She's disappeared from my life.

We don't know just what happened to Scully. To Dana

I know they took her, like they took my sister. Another woman I loved, stolen from my life. Vanished.

I can think of her now, her laughing green eyes, her sparkling red hair. She was so beautiful. I'd forgotten that as time passed. The longer I knew her, the less I thought of her as a woman. I overlooked her startling beauty until just now, when I happened to glance at a photograph of her. Her image, like a muted echo from a previous time.

Dana. Her name sounds strange upon my lips, and I say it again. Dana. I always called her Scully, she called me Mulder. Perhaps it was a way of distancing ourselves from the underlying attraction of which we were both cognizant.

So much I could have said to her. So much I never did.

She's gone.

She has disappeared.