REVIEWED BY: Jennifer J. Chen ON: April 16, 1999
ORIGINAL AIR DATE: December 14, 1997
"Why didn't you call me sooner?"
"Because I couldn't believe it. But I need you now to be a
witness on my behalf in this hearing."
"And I should have declined...if I never want to see you
hurt or harmed in any way."
The opening teaser for this episode was absolutely gorgeous--one of the show's best. Gillian's flowing chiffon-thing, walking in the desert sands--loved it. I thought the speech was a little stilted, but I liked the coming full circle idea when she picks up the cross necklace (that thing can't seem to stay on, can it?) from the sands and does the same thing at the end of the episode. The haunting imagery parallels Dana Scully's mindset, that she is alone in a barren world. Of course, I don't truly believe that she really believes herself to be utterly alone, but we all get that feeling sometimes, even if it's not strictly true. If this episode proved anything, it proved that Scully is definitely not alone--she has Mulder, and he is not an ally to scoff at.
Throughout the episode, we see Mulder showing all the best sides of himself. He is, in a word, perfect--no one could ask for more from a friend, a partner, or a human being. He is simply there, willing to do whatever Scully needs him to do. He gives her space, yet is strong and is completely willing to take action when necessary. He is understanding without being suffocating or wimpy. He is gentle with Scully and Emily and unyielding and driven with others. Mulder is in full protective mode; that Emily is part of Scully is enough to make her worth any effort. This episode is a gem if only because it provides us with the knowledge of Mulder's main motivation in no uncertain terms. What he has done in his life for the past few years he has done to avoid seeing Scully "hurt or harmed in any way." A more powerful image I cannot conjure in my mind. Yet this wasn't the only factor that made this episode a gem; it had plenty of great qualities.
Mulder is willing to do anything to keep Scully from being hurt...and willing to act upon anything she wants--even things she only thinks she wants. The conversation that they have in the hospital when Scully tells Mulder that Emily has slipped into a coma is extremely revealing. Mulder does not say a word, but Scully knows him, knows what he is feeling without him having to express his concern into words--she immediately tells him that she is okay, because she knows that is his main concern.
Yet Scully is in her own world, trying to make sense of things, her emotions at the very surface of her being. She does not know how significant her words are, how Mulder is carefully weighing her every word so that she can have what she wants. Vial of green liquid in his hand, a possible treatment for Emily, and he poses, "But if you could treat her..." Scully, in her own fog of sorrow, and normally tuned into Mulder's every nuance, misses the slight anxiety that colors his voice. If she had her wits completely about her, she would have felt the significance of the moment, heard the words that he was not uttering--that he was asking her to make a decision. Scully replies, "I wouldn't. I wouldn't do it to her." And if fully-aware Scully hadn't gotten it before, she surely would have with Mulder's next question--"Are you sure?" But again, the pain of losing her daughter, even one that she has only known for a few days, clouds her perceptions. She believes he is being hypothetical, while he wants her to give her honest opinion, uncolored by the knowledge that he has.
Knowing what he has done, we want Scully to bask in his comfort and love--but she does not know what he has done in the time he has been away from her; she does not know how close to her daughter he really is, because of her. Mulder tells her that he will stay with her, meaning to share in her pain and hopefully alleviate it somehow by his presence, but Scully requests to be alone. She is asking to bear her pain without him, and though the very idea is hurtful to him--I hurt for him--he concedes to her wishes, leaving her to say goodbye to perhaps the only daughter she will ever know. The scene is left with Mulder once again bearing the weight of knowledge that he does not want to burden his partner with. For Scully, he will keep his silence and do what he has to do to keep her from hurt and pain. For Scully, it is a burden that he gladly carries.
From the get go, Mulder acts much like a hurt significant other, demanding, "Why didn't you call me sooner?" with the authority of a person with the right to ask such a question. Scully does not deny his claim, and instead explains why she did not. He defends her in the hearing, and puts into words Scully's rights to Emily more succinctly and passionately than anyone else could have: "[The] fact that she can adopt this child, her own flesh and blood, is something I don't feel I have the right to question and I don't believe anyone has the right to stand in the way of." When he believes that Dr. Calderon has led them astray, and being uncooperative about Emily, Mulder flips out. In a show of violence that only seems to present itself when Scully's well-being is involved, Mulder basically kicks Calderon's ass, making threats, getting things done, venting his disgust and frustration at this, the source of Scully's pain. The one beef I have with Mulder's actions in this episode is when he believes the person that he sees emerging from the nursing home is actually Detective Kresge--hasn't he been around the green stuff enough to know that Kresge couldn't possibly have come away unharmed after shooting the alien and the spending that much time around the substance? But with his other heroics all episode long, I can forgive him for this one bit of not thinking.
The significance of Scully choosing to stay with Mulder after Emily's funeral is not lost on me. Emily was Scully's blood daughter, yet instead of leaving with her blood family to share that family's newest loss, she chooses instead to stay with Mulder--who consists of her new family. Mulder understands and mourns Emily's loss more than her blood family ever could. They were hesitant to believe Scully's certainty that Emily was somehow related to her sister, and after that they never spent much time with the little girl. Mulder's ties are much stronger; his feelings for Emily are rooted in his love for Scully, in their shared bond and experiences. Scully acknowledges all this and more when she tells her mother, "I think I'll ride back with Mulder." It's more than a "ride back"--it's a choice of who she shares her pain, her life with, now.
The music at Emily's funeral is somber but not overly weepy or dramatic, and Mulder is conspicuously absent. Then notice that as Mulder appears, the music swells enormously; it becomes brighter, signifying hope and something that cannot be taken away--love.
Mulder, continuing his I'm-the-perfect-partner routine, turns away when Scully lifts the lid of Emily's casket to give her some privacy in a very personal moment. Yet she finds there only sand and her cross. They have taken almost everything else away, but they cannot take away what that cross necklace represents--faith, hope, and a partner's untiring devotion.
"Who are the men who would create a life whose only hope was to die?"
Please feel free to
"I don't know. But that you found her...and you had a
chance to love her...then, maybe she was meant for that too."
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me at jenu1bruin@centropolis.org
1999 by Jennifer J. Chen