Spoilers: various, up to Redux I.





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Excerpts from the journal of Walter S. Skinner



I knew there was a flood coming.  I fucking knew it.  I'm losing--have

already lost--Dana.  The body wasn't Fox's, and she didn't trust me enough

to tell me.  And the accusation in her eyes when she collapsed, as though my

presence triggered something--



God, Dana, how did I lose you?  What do you believe I did?  I'm being set

up.  Your silence about Fox, about how sick you were, about your

suspicions--what the hell do you know that you didn't say?



I held her when she collapsed, felt the coolness of her skin and the flutter

of her heart.  She was so fragile in my arms.  The strength of her character

is all the strength she has these days.  Dana is dying, and God knows where

Fox is.  Perhaps *only* God knows where Fox is.  



Hell.  She looks like an angel now more than ever.  She seems to shine as

she lies there, silent, her life bleeding away from her.  I want to cradle

her body against mine, curl up behind her on the bed, protect her.



She wouldn't appreciate the sentiment.



I want to go out and find Fox and kiss him senseless and then ream him a new

asshole for frightening me, for making me think he was dead.  That's not

entirely figurative, to be honest.  My fantasies about Fox have been getting

steadily more explicit for months. 



For all his flirting with me, I'm almost certain he's straight.  Dana would

know for sure, but she'd never tell me.  Not that she could, now.  She

sleeps the sleep of the dying.



I wonder if they're lovers.  I've never been sure how she feels about him. 

She's a hard woman to read sometimes.  As hard as heartbreak, as beautiful

as sunrise, an enigma wrapped in a riddle.  Fuck.  How am I supposed to

understand what's going on, to protect both of them, when no one tells me

anything?  



My only hope is for Fox to turn up, in that magical way of turning up that

he has, and tell me.  If he doesn't think I betrayed them, as Dana so

clearly does.  This is worse than I thought.  The flood has hit us, and I

was right: I can't hold it back by myself.



If Fox doesn't come to me, if he is no longer loyal to me, this sink-or-swim

game will end the wrong way for all of us.  I have my suspicions, but no one

I can trust--and Fox is a stronger swimmer than I.



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