From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Sat, 29 Apr 2000 14:56:24 -0500
Subject: A Bedtime Story by Marie Endres
Source: direct

Reply To: joemimi@prodigy.net


                                                 
                                                           
" A Bedtime Story"
by Marie Endres  joemimi@prodigy.net

Classification: M/S Angst; MSR

Rating: PG

Spoilers: "All Things", "The Unnatural"

Summary: Mulder tells Scully a bedtime story after
the events of "All Things"

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. They belong
to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.

Thank You's as always to Georgia, for your beta help
and dear friendship, and to The X-Scenes group, a better 
group of writers and betas could never be found! May
many cheesecakes be in your future!

 

                                                          
"A Bedtime Story"


    She's not drooling. It's a strange 
observation, I know. I continue to 
wonder how my partner, this woman before 
me, could see so much which would 
frighten the bravest of souls, and still 
find enough trust in her heart to fall 
asleep, drool-inducing sleep, at the drop of a hat.

Not tonight, however. She has fallen 
asleep quickly, but it is not a deep 
sleep. Her eyes fluttered closed not too 
long ago, but she is not truly resting. 

She has been shaken more than stirred. 
That is why she is here, here with me and 
not with her past.

I watch her eyes move quickly under the 
tender skin that forms her lids. What 
does she see in these dreams that 
envelope her subconscious, causing her to whimper--wishes, 
desires, fears? Do I figure in any or all 
of the above?

It's not all about you, Mulder, I remind 
myself using her words which I've 
repeated so many times that they
are seared into my brain.

I reach out to touch her, to make contact 
with her in some way. Although she
is sitting right next to me, she seems a world apart.
Only the tips of my fingers graze her cheek. 
She has just revealed to me a world which 
I've never known to exist: a world where 
Scully was a maiden to be wooed and where 
a knight was brave enough to do the wooing.

I should just leave her to sleep. 
Sometimes the greatest comfort that can 
be given is knowing when to quit.


    I would quit here and turn to go to 
my bed alone, if not for the fact that I 
just discovered that Scully has recently 
adopted a definitely painful position. I 
better move her legs onto the couch so 
she doesn't awake in mid-cramp.

Slowly, slowly, almost there, keep sleeping,
I repeat in a silent plea.

"Mulder?" she asks groggily. 

Dammit. I knew I couldn't do this.

"SHH. Go back to sleep. You're okay. I'm 
going to bed, too," I murmur as if to a 
child. I once again tuck the blanket 
around her. I turn to go to my bedroom.

"Don't go, Mulder. Stay with me a little 
while, please," she says in sleepy whisper.

Inwardly, I panic. Of course, I don't 
show it. I never do. I fear I'm 
going into a place marked "Here be 
Monsters." It is place where I was once, 
seven years ago, when a half-naked Scully 
came to me looking for answers,
assurances. Tonight, she is once again 
before me, laid bare by her confession 
and asking for my presence.

Instead of running or stiffly hesitating, 
I take a seat on the floor. I steady 
myself by leaning ever so slightly into 
the leather cushion of the couch.

"What is it?" I question.

"I had a bad dream," she says.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. That always makes me 
feel worse," she concludes in typical 
Scully fashion. A small smile begins at 
the left corner of her mouth.

"What?" I offer.

"My father used to comfort us after 
nightmares by telling us very elaborate 
stories. He not only swept away the fear, 
but replaced it with something 
beautiful." Her face began to fall at the 
sense of loss.

While I knew I could not be a substitute 
for the storyteller of her childhood, I 
could weave a tale here, tonight, in the 
waning days of her youth. And so I begin.

"Well, Scully, I just so happen to have 
brought back with me, from the land of 
the Pendragons, a little-known legend 
which I think might intrigue you. First, 
though, you must close your eyes."

Amazingly, she complies. I feel as though 
I am calling her outside to play again, 
much as I did last spring around this 
time. For a short while that night out on 
the baseball field, I sensed a winsome 
spirit, a playfulness in her and myself 
that I never knew existed. Tonight I 
hoped to draw her out again, past the 
pain that remembering rekindled, past 
ourselves. Plus, it felt incredible to 
have her in my arms that night, without 
tears or threats. It was a sensation I 
hope my story will manage to recreate.

"That's good," I encourage her as her top 
lashes embrace her lower ones.

"Did you know, Scully, that the fair 
Guinevere had red hair?" I start to see 
the rise of an eyebrow, but then it 
retreats. Already blessed by her silent 
reassurance, I continue.

"Really, she did. It may have been a 
little singed by that whole burning-at- 
the-stake thing, her punishment for the 
little indiscretion with Lancelot. 
Anyway, after she was allowed to go free, 
Guinevere faced two prospects, neither of 
which delighted her. She could get 
herself to a nunnery or go home to 
Arthur, whom she admired but no longer 
loved.

As she debated the options, with 
smoke still swirling around her, 
Guinevere saw a tall, lanky knight. 
Silently, he beckoned to her from the 
edge of the crowd. Her eyes questioned 
him, and he mouthed the words, 'Come with 
me.' "


I pause here, collecting my thoughts and 
delightedly realizing that a small smile 
is gracing Scully's face. I move closer 
to her.

"Somehow she made her way through the 
now-thinning crowd toward the knight. 
Quickly, he led her to his waiting steed. 
helped her up, well he didn't need to 
help her that much," I insert in response
to her knitted brow, "and they rode off 
into the surrounding woods."

"Pray thee, sir, what is thy name?" 
Guinevere inquired.

"Foxwaine, was the knight's reply


"Oh, please, Mulder!" Scully good-
naturedly chuckles while still keeping
her eyes closed.

"Hey, hey, stay with me here!" I chuckle
back.

"So the knight told the red-haired queen,
I am on a quest, my lady. A pure white 
dragon is out there. I have seen glimpses 
of it- a tail here, a few scales scattered on
a hilltop somewhere else. Can you imagine the 
renown, if only I could slay it? So far I 
have been unsuccessful in my search, but 
with your fair presence, I may be able to 
charm him into submission. Will you come 
with me fair queen? I cannot promise 
success, but I can promise an adventure 
with which to be reckoned."

I look down into the delicate face of the 
woman who lies before me, so like the 
queen of my "tale". She has been turned
inside out by the decisions of her heart, 
and now another one remains.

"So what did she decide, Mulder?" Scully 
presses.

Happy that she has allowed herself to be 
carried along by the story, I continue.

"They had now reached a great and teeming 
stream. Guinevere had to make a decision. 
If she left now, she could still go back 
with few questions about her little side 
trip. If she decided to go with the 
brilliant, yet seemingly crackpot, 
Foxwaine, her life would never be the 
same. Even though his quest seemed to 
consume him, she knew that the same 
single-mindedness which he had for that 
dragon would soon be turned in her 
direction."

I pause.

"So tell me!" she demands.

I lean in until my lips are within a 
breath of her ear.

"I can't, Scully. Only you can tell me."
I am sure my pounding heart can be heard 
as clearly as my words.

A peace has settled over Scully.
I know because I begin to feel it
as surely as an embrace.

With eyes still closed, she turns on her 
side toward me. I involuntarily close 
my eyes as well while I await her response:

"Of course she went with Foxwaine. Where 
else was, is there for her? Ashes of a 
forbidden relationship, remnants of an 
empty life? How could these things 
hold a candle to the promise of a real 
adventure? So yes, of course, she went 
with him. How could you ever doubt that?" 
she whispers and I can hear the smile in
her voice.

Opening my eyes, I look at her. I know 
that Arthur's queen was never more 
lovely than the woman before me. Taking her hands,
I lift them to my lips, realizing that her gaze has now 
met mine.

"Welcome back to the journey, Scully," I 
assure her, ready to begin anew, as I 
know my lady is no longer in waiting.


END


Feedback: It is more precious than a
pure white dragon. Please send as much
as possible to: joemimi@prodigy.net