The first few cases seem baffling, but Dana Scully refuses to give up. There have to be rational, logical, scientific reasons why each case turned the way it did. There are no such things as monsters, nothing that goes bump in the night. Her father explained it to her over and again. Her mother did as well, far more patiently.
The dreams of the big furry creature saving her from the chameleon monster were not real, because such things cannot exist.
Looking at her partner, she can't help but wonder if he ever had that kind of dream as a boy, and if his parents just never convinced him of the truth.
Move, move, strike...DUST! She cheers herself, eyes lighting as she looks at the people working with her, gnawing on the dissatisfaction in her soul at their grim, gritty looks. Don't they get it? They all just won the fight, took the bad guys down. You fight, you win, you do it again, and get your kicks off in between them.
She wonders, laying back in the bed later that night, the boy snoring next to her, where all the Kitties and the Mike Wazowskis had gone, and why she only meets Randalls now. Still, it's because of a giant furry monster that she knew in her heart of hearts that monsters were vulnerable, and she uses that every night she goes out.
After Hoggle and the rest leave, Sarah pulls a very old drawing pad out of her desk. It's manila paper, and the earliest drawings are in crayon, the waxen lines having lost their shine long ago. She wants to keep her new friends safe in visual memory, just as she did the first ones.
Her eyes mist over as she looks at the green cyclopean monster, and her chest feels tight looking at the blue furred one with his purple splotches. It was all so long ago, even that other visit, when her 'Kitty' came back to see her, but she remembers it still.
How can anyone grow up past the magic, when the monsters offer so much love to their childhood friends?
She was a woman grown and dedicated. The rig was her dream come true, everything she had known she could make happen. Watching Bud attempt to throw it all away, watching the company kowtow to the military...all of it was conspiring to kill her methodical dream. Finally on the verge of being known, having risen above her five brothers, and the world was trying to literally drown her attempts.
Maybe, she thought after it was all said and done, that was why she was the one the probe came for. The 'Russian water tentacle' incident had reawakened, far more firmly, her long suppressed belief in the unknowable. She'd lost sight of the wonder, lost that the world is not all about science and accomplishment.
A softer smile lit her face as she stood with Bud, later, on the alien vessel, as she wondered if the aliens had closet monsters to keep their wonder alive.
The science behind the gates was a little more than Janet wanted to hear about, as she listened to Sam rattle on and on. She doodled on her napkin, listening, though, because Sam Carter...intrigued her. That brain, the way the energy just cascaded through her on everything, her aggressively confident manner all made Janet look for excuses to share time with her.
She glanced at the doodles, surprised at the half-familiar shape of imaginary childhood friends forming there. She looked back at Sam as the woman was wondering if there might have been more limited, single destination gates of some kind in the Ancient's world.
Janet didn't say a word, because seriously? Closet doors were not gates.