Dreamscape

by Foxsong

(early March 1999)

PG - just like on TV, nothing happens!

A pleasant little vignette... just a little Mulder angst & a hint of UST.

Archive: Sure! Why not? Just let me know so I can come visit it.

Feedback: Bring it on at foxsong@earthlink.net

This was written after seeing the 'scenes from next week's show' before
"Arcadia" aired. I was all excited thinking that Chris Carter would put them
in the same room, and let my imagination run away with me. After seeing the
episode and finding out Mulder had to go sleep on the sofa, I avenged M. &
S. by revising this and turning it into my "Night in Arcadia". So there!

Disclaimer: The X-Files and the charachters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully
are the property of Ten Thirteen and Fox. No copyright infringement is
intended. ...even if Fox 'n' Dana *do* like me better. :)


I.

.

In the dream I could hear the voice, soft and far away, murmuring, almost
moaning, so piteous and heartbroken and pained that it almost frightened me.
When I was startled from sleep by Mulder's quick movement behind me I was
more relieved than put out. I stretched a little and made myself comfortable
and meant to go back to sleep, but something - *something*...

That sound, it was - Yes, it was Mulder's breath, rapid, shallow, uneven. He
was sitting up, and after a few minutes I began to wonder if I'd really
dreamed that voice at all, or if it had been real, and had wakened him too.
I sat up and turned toward him.

"What is it?" I asked him. "Did you -"

And stopped, because he was slumped over, his face in his hands, and his
breath was coming almost in sobs. I put my hand on his shoulder and found he
was trembling. "Mulder, you're shaking," I said aloud.

"It's nothing. It's just a dream," he said thickly, and didn't lift his
head. I put my arm around his shoulders; he was chilly, the fabric of his
pajamas damp. "You're cold," I murmured, and I reached over and stroked the
tousled hair away from his forehead, put my hand beneath his chin and turned
his face up toward mine. Slowly he lowered his hands, and even in the dim
light I could see the streaks of the tears glistening on his cheeks. And all
at once I realized that the voice had been his, that he had tried to cry out
in his sleep - "It's alright, Mulder," I found myself whispering, caressing
his face. "It's over. You're alright..."

He swallowed hard, and hung his head, but I put both my arms around him and
pulled him close. And, slowly, he turned toward me, and leaned into my
embrace, and I felt the tension begin to ease out of his neck and shoulders
and back, felt the trembling lessen and finally cease. I held him and rocked
him until at last he lay quiet, heavy and still in my arms; at last his
breathing became soft and even. I think I held him for a long time.

Finally I lifted my head, kissed his forehead; he stirred, and looked up at
me. "Sleepy?" I whispered, still stroking his hair. He yawned and nodded.
One last caress - I let him go, and plumped up his flattened pillow,
smoothed the twisted sheet and blanket tangled around him. "All set," I told
him. "Here, lie down."

He did so, with an air of obedience; humming softly to myself, I tucked him
in. And quite before I'd realized I'd meant to, I laid down close beside him
and reached out to take him back into my arms. "Go to sleep now," I
whispered, "I'm right here." I think he was surprised: I felt him tense up
again, resisting, and he began to raise his head from the pillow. Maybe he
thought - "There's nothing to read into it, Mulder," I murmured, perhaps
just a little too dryly. "Just go to sleep."

He never spoke a word; he laid down his head, and I felt him relax again. A
moment later his hand touched my side, then tentatively, almost
apologetically, his arm encircled my waist.

A little time passed, and I thought he had dozed off, but he stirred, and
shifted closer, tucked his face into the hollow of my throat, and let out a
long, soft sigh. There was no more tension at all, no more shivering... just
Mulder, warm and still, asleep now in my arms. And I felt myself slipping
away...

In the morning he was sprawled across the other side of the bed..

I didn't know whether or how to ask him about it, so I didn't; but I kept
catching him from the corner of my eye all day, studying me thoughtfully,
his expression unfamiliar and unreadable, when he thought I couldn't see
him.



II.

It was the same dream: back in Antarctica; I was lost, chased by the aliens,
and I couldn't find Scully, but I could hear her crying - And, like the
other times, I bolted awake at last, panting, sweating, my heart racing...

The shadows were unfamiliar, and the room didn't seem like home. My breath
caught in my throat, and the panic of the dream welled up again, but a
movement beside me in the bed brought me back. Yes: I was on assignment. I
had moved into this house today, under an assumed identity; Scully -
Scully! - was asleep at my side. With a great sigh of relief I put my head
down in my hands and willed myself to stop trembling.

But it was too late. I'd awakened her - she was turning over, sitting up,
putting her hand on my shoulder. "What is it?" she murmured. "Did you -
...Mulder, you're shaking."

"It's nothing. It's just a dream." I couldn't keep my voice steady enough to
fool her: she knows me too well. Her arm went around my shoulders. "You're
cold," she said, and put one gentle hand under my chin, turned my face
toward hers. "It's alright, Mulder," she whispered, stroking my hair. "It's
over. You're alright."

I felt awkward, and vaguely foolish, but I was still shivering, and her
touch was motherly, and comforting. I let her draw me into her arms. She
rocked me, slowly, gently, silently. At length she drew back, and kissed my
forehead once.

"Sleepy?" she whispered, and I nodded, yawning. Scully let go of me and
puffed up my pillow and straightened the blankets I'd tangled. She patted
the pillow, saying, "All set. Here, lie down."

I did as she bade me, and she tucked the covers around me. She was humming
something under her breath, soothingly; she surprised me by lying down close
to me and putting her arms around me. "Go to sleep now," she whispered.. "I'
m right here."

I was so caught off guard that I hesitated, holding myself back from her.
She seemed to understand even that, and murmured, "There's nothing to read
into it, Mulder. Just go to sleep." Even through the wry tone I could hear
the smile in her voice, and had to smile a little myself. So I relaxed, and
let her hold me, and presently nestled closer, and felt myself growing
drowsy listening to her breathing, slow and even, feeling the last tender
little caresses of her fingers growing feebler as she drifted to sleep...

In the morning, neither of us mentioned it.