From: JGreco217@aol.com Date: Mon, 20 Sep 1999 17:30:01 EDT Subject: xfc: New: Dreams are Answers (01/02) by Jamie Greco Source: xfc From: JGreco217@aol.com Dreams are Answers (01/02) *Author* Jamie Greco jgreco217@aol.com Rating: PG Classification: Story with a lot of UST or even some MSR in small doses. Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Anasazi, The Host, Teso Dos Bichos. Summary: Mulder is wounded and unconscious as a vision of Scully attempts to rescue him. (It's kind of odd, I'll admit it. But, it'll make sense while you're reading.) Meanwhile, a young girl looks to Mulder for help, despite his condition. Disclaimer: M&S belong to 1013. The rest is mine. Especially the oddball concept. Archive: Sure, I'd be honored. Just let me know where. Feedback: You know what I like... It was still a little bitter, at least when the wind blew. But spring was definitely a possibility. Lovey could see it in the crispness of the sky and the way the clouds rushed off, like there was something special coming they didn't want to miss. She smiled up at the blueness of the heavens and the trees, that were beginning to renew themselves with the lightest of green leaves. They reminded her of babies, and she smiled at the thought as she swiped the hair from her face. There were so many promises in the wind. It dappled the shadows of the tree across her face, and she delighted in it. The slam of gunshot not far off caused her heart to hammer. Her brothers had told her to stay out of the woods when they were hunting. She'd be beaten for sure if they found her. Quickly she crept low among the dried embers of what was once lush vegetation. If she made it back to the main house before they saw her, she'd spare herself another whipping. The biggest problem would be getting across the meadow unseen. But she was quicker and smarter than her brothers realized and she felt hopeful. But then she heard her brother's voices and they were angry, so she grew still and waited. When she realized that their anger was directed toward each other, curiosity got the better of her. She crawled over a small rise in the land until she could see their heads and hear their voices clearly. Although she could hear their words, she couldn't understand them. "Finish him off? What the hell are you talking about? He's not some damn buck!" "No, he's worse than that. He's a goddamn Fed! He's our ticket to life in some hell hole. The kind they keep just for people who kill Feds!" "You don't know he's a Fed. He could be...I don't know..." "Dressed like that? Do you know anyone who comes up this mountain dressed like that, 'cept for government?" Her younger brother started to whimper. "I didn't mean to shoot him. That's gotta mean something!" "That won't mean dick!" "What if he doesn't die? What if we fix him up and send him back? What then?" "Who are you, Dr. Quinn? How are you planning to fix him up?" "Or we could take him up to town and leave him at Doc's and, you know, get the hell out of there!" "I swear you're stupider than a bag of hammers. Do you think we could get in and out of town with nobody seeing us? Especially with a grown man being tossed out of our truck?" They were silent for a minute, and her oldest brother lifted his rifle. Lovey crept forward to see what a Fed was. What she saw made her gasp aloud. She threw her hand over her mouth too late. Both of her brothers turned toward the noise and time stood still. "Goddamn!" her brother yelled. "Get down here, you!" Lovey lifted herself from the ground and slowly, as if to the hangman, drooped her way toward her brothers. "Now, what are we going to do?" Her oldest brother, Ben, asked her brother Carl. "You know she can't keep a secret." "I know," Carl answered sullenly. "If we kill him now, she'll tell somebody for sure." "I know," Carl reiterated with more force. Lovey ignored the bickering that picked up and squatted next to the man who lay face down in the damp moss. Glancing up at her brothers, she determined they were far too involved in their argument to notice if she turned him over. Bracing her feet into the dirt, she pulled at his shoulder until the rest of his body followed him around. She placed her hand over the smudged white dress shirt and counted his heartbeats. One...two...three...four...She grinned, relieved by his life. Sparing another glance at her brothers, she began to pick dirt and twigs from his face and hair, taking in his features as she ministered to him. She liked his looks and decided she would tell him so when he finally woke up. Placing her palm against his cheek, she was surprised by the coldness of it. She began to tug at his overcoat, meaning to pull it around him, when something fell from his pocket and landed on the ground next to him. Lovey felt a tingling excitement but didn't want to snatch the wallet too quickly, fearing her brothers might take it from her. She bit her lip and stared at it, creeping her hand slowly across his chest and finally grasping it and pulling it toward her in a single catlike movement. "What you got there?" Ben asked, pulling the wallet from her hands before she had time to hide it. "Damn!" he exploded. "You shot yourself an F.B.I agent, you stupid sack of shit!" "What?" "Fox Mulder, Special Agent, says right here." They stood quietly for another minute before Ben kicked Lovey aside with his boot. "Pick up his feet," Ben finally ordered. "I'll take his arms." Lovey skittered aside, peering at her brothers from her squatted position. Carl did as he was told, an angry grimace across his features. "Where are we going to put him?" he grunted. "We'll throw him into the tool shed for now, till we can think this through." They plodded away, huffing out smokes of breath as they went, the man's hands and head dangling between them. Lovey watched anxiously. She had been the target of her brother's anger enough to know that they were to be taken very seriously. As they disappeared over the ridge, she scrambled to her feet and followed behind, keeping a safe distance. Mulder struggled against the syrupy darkness that encased his mind. He had thought himself asleep as he had gained some awareness, but soon realized that his present level of consciousness was as far as he could ascend. He felt pain...and cold. It was a start. He heard the birds, and it puzzled him. An attempt to move his fingers seemed to fail; he wasn't sure though. He wondered if Scully was sitting next to him, waiting for him to come around. A smile almost tugged through. He tried to form her name on his lips. "Scully?" Had he spoken? No, he determined. Her name had just bounced around the caverns inside his skull. His aching, pounding skull. "Mulder?" Ahhh, her voice. She was there after all. He opened his eyes but recognized the dream world that pervaded reality. Relaxing from his fight for consciousness, he accepted this current vision. "Scully," he said in greeting. She shook her head, a small bemused smile on her lips. "What?" he asked "You tell me, Mulder," she said as she watched him closely. He shrugged a little. "I don't remember..." "What's the last thing you remember?" "Bad pizza." "That could be a memory from any time in the last six years." "I think I remember the particular pizza from this case." "Why?" "Tasted like barbecue." Scully nodded. "That's the one." "Why do we continue to get pizza everywhere we go?" "We, Mulder?" "You order it too." "I think it's desperation and exhaustion. Mulder, I don't want to talk about pizza." "Hot dogs?" "No, I want--" "Because I refuse to discuss tofu, frozen or otherwise." "Mulder! I want to talk about...about...what's going on here." Scully's image jumped and lurched like film falling out of a spool. Mulder frowned and concentrated, and she seemed to settle in again. Something occurred to him. "Why are you here, Scully?" Mulder ventured. Scully looked him over coolly. "I wouldn't even begin to plum the caverns of your psyche, Mulder." Mulder chuckled. "I guess I meant, how are you here?" "That seems obvious," Scully replied. "Indulge me." Scully rolled her eyes. "Don't I always?" Mulder nodded, waiting. "I am a figment of your imagination." "A fantasy?" "Well, not precisely. A fantasy would require your conscious effort." "So an unconscious effort wouldn't rely on my imagination?" "I didn't say that. What are you getting at, Mulder?" "Are you open to an alternate theory?" Scully sighed loudly. "That's so Mulder of you. You're half dead, conjuring up images of me to keep you company, and you still can't help but come up with some frustratingly inconceivable theory. Do you do this to aggravate me, Mulder?" "That's just it. If you were a figment of my imagination you wouldn't be aggravated." "I wouldn't?" "No." "What would I be then?" Mulder lowered his eyes. "That's not really the point." "No, Mulder, you brought it up. What would I be if I was your fantasy?" "Scully..." "Let me guess. I'd be wearing a push up bra and garter belts and licking my lips and calling you... Fox, baby." He raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Fox...Baby?" He drew out. "Foxy?" she offered. "Scully, you seem to have given this some thought." "You're the one who just admitted you have fantasies about me." "I don't recall admitting anything of the sort," he protested. "Stop changing the subject. You said if I were a figment of your imagination, in other words, a fantasy, I wouldn't be annoyed with you, right?" "Right." "So, I'm not a figment of your imagination," she stated. "Damn right." "And why are you so sure of this?" "Because if I were imagining you, you wouldn't be wearing that suit." Scully glanced down at herself quickly. "What's wrong with this suit? I love this suit!" "There's nothing wrong with the suit, Scully. You look very professional. I just prefer to think of you more...casual." "Casual?" He grinned a little. "And you wouldn't be wearing the makeup over your mole." Her hand flew up to her mouth and fluttered down again. She seemed to collect herself. "Are you going to tell me your theory?" Mulder was beginning to grow tired. He closed himself off from Scully's image and felt the landscape start to fade. "Mulder?" she called sharply, and he focused on her once again. "Your theory?" He nodded and licked his lips. "I'm not imagining you. You're really here...Your essence, your spirit, your entity." "Let me get this straight, Mulder. You think I dispatched my inner self to keep you company? While my outer self is, what? Flapping around somewhere with a blank expression on its face?" "I haven't worked the kinks out..." "That's an understatement." "And you're not just here to keep me company." "I'm not?" "Nope, you're going to save me." "Again?" He nodded contentedly. "Sorry, Mulder, I'm not buying this." "There! Don't you see? The fact that...all right, Scully. Let's test this out scientifically." She raised her eyebrows. "You must be a figment of my imagination. I thought you just said we should test this scientifically." "I said exactly that." "Okay, it's your mental playground. How do you propose to do this?" "You have to promise not to hurt me." "Hurt you?" "Yes." "How could I hurt you? I'm not even here!" "Scully, just promise. I'm blinking out." "Fine. I won't hurt you. Now what do you want to do?" "Nothing. I want you to come here and kiss me." Scully blinked. "You want me to kiss you? Why?" "Telling you that would affect the results." She looked at him uncertainly. "On the lips?" He nodded firmly. "Plant one on me, Scully." She watched him warily and finally he closed his eyes in exhaustion, with a small triumphant smile on his lips. "You won't do it because you're not my--" His words were muffled under her pliable lips, and he opened his eyes slightly to help himself believe. Her face was unfocused and overwhelming, and he closed his eyes once again, blissful. When she stopped, she lifted away from him, pulled her jacket into place and returned to her position. "I like this suit," she reiterated. Mulder stared after her, dumfounded. "Now, according to your theory, what did that prove?" "My theory?" he squeaked. She touched her mouth, wiping errant lipstick from under her lip, while Mulder studied her. "Are you going to keep me in suspense?" "You're right," he finally murmured. "What?" she answered, astonished. "You're right. You must be a fantasy." "Why? Because I kissed you?" "Y-yes." She rose gracefully. "Then that proved nothing," she told him over her shoulder as she began to fade. "What do you mean?" he called after her. "You're the guy with the theories. You figure it out. And, Mulder..." "What?" he asked. "Have a drink. Your body needs fluids." "See? That's what I mean, Scully. Scully? You never doctor me in my fantasies! Scully!" he called after her, making his head rattle with pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. Maybe, he thought, if I can pass out completely, if I can make my brain stop entirely, the pain will go away. He concentrated on creating nothingness, inviting the blackness to come in and stay. "Why Fox? That's what I want to know. Lovey is a strange name too, but Fox? My mama said she thought of my name the first time she saw my face. Lovey, she thought, and that was my name. I wonder what you made your mama think of foxes. Were you quick like a fox or clever like a fox? I just don't see how a baby can be any of those things." Mulder struggled for more darkness and its accompanying quiet; but somewhere her voice swirled in colors of sickening hues around his ears, every syllable a stinging hornet. He tried to at least moan his displeasure, unable to form words of his own that might smack down her droning monologue, but nothing came out. Lovey, meanwhile, crept closer on her hands and knees, the gritty filth of the dirt floor digging into her skin unnoticed. She had never been this close to a man not related to her, and that always bore the threat of violence. She glanced over her shoulder and then back at the man so temptingly near her fingertips. "I've heard crazy like a fox, but that never made no sense to me. And who would think a baby was crazy unless your mama was crazy? No offense." She glanced behind her once again, lifting the candle she had pilfered from the house in order to see in the thick darkness. His eye socket was heavily bruised from his tumble forward, and his lip was cut slightly. Setting the candle down near his face, she traced the bruise near his eye gently as if she had healing powers. His skin was warm and soft, and she drew her hand back to consider that. She had always thought a man's skin to be hard and coarse, much like their personalities. But that didn't seem to be the case where this man was concerned. Slowly her fingers crept into his hairline and pushed her hand through his tangled hair. His hair wasn't even as she expected. She let her eyes drift over his features and decided this man could be a friend; she could tell by the warm, downward slope of his eyes and the generosity of his mouth. "You feel nice, Fox," she whispered near his face. "Are you nice? I hope you're nice. Maybe we could be friends, you and me." She glanced down at the blood that soaked his clothes low on his belly, wondering if she dared to check his welfare in a place she knew her mama would disapprove. Finally, she lifted his shirt and glanced quickly, hoping not to see burbling blood. She turned her attention back to his face. "I think you're scabbing over, Fox. The body is a wonderful thing, don't you think? I mean it can just--" Time is a fluid thing and has no texture or touchstones without daily life; Wake up, breakfast or whatever you use to jump start your brain, that first traffic light you have to arrive at by 8:15 if you're going to get to the office before your prompt and conscientious partner. Consequence and structure make up our days. When your rattling around in the vacancy that once contained a multitude of thought processes, time loses all meaning. I might have been laid out for days or weeks. Maybe I was dead and all the angels looked like Scully...I wouldn't be at all surprised. "Mulder, wake up." She can be more than a little demanding though. I mean, it's not like I fell asleep during a stake out. "Mulder, I need to talk to you." "I'm tired, Scully." "Did you get water?" "I..." "Wake up, Mulder!" "Dammit, Scully! Do I yell at you when you're unconscious?" "I can't say that I recall." "There you go." "Look, I've been thinking," Scully began. "Mmm-hmm..." "You left me around 7:30 tonight, right?" "It's a funny thing, Scully. Time is relational thing. If you're not getting up at a certain time or meeting deadlines, what have you, it has no texture, no real meaning. Actually time is made up of consequence and meaningless structure--" "You said the Knicks game would be on in half an hour." "7:30, so?" "So, I fell asleep right after Frasier." "Right after Frasier what? Who's Frasier?" "So I'm asleep, and you're part of my dream." "That's your theory?" "Yes, Mulder, that's my theory." "Why can't it be that I fell asleep, and you're part of my dream?" "Because I'm thinking things." "So am I!" "So you say. I think I'm just having one of those 'I gotta save Mulder' dreams and if I figure out how to save you, I'll wake up." "You dream about saving me?" "Repeatedly." "Damn." "What?" "I was hoping you were having hot dreams about me." Scully grinned a little. "Who says I don't?" "Scully! Tell me one hot dream you've had about me." "Later. I have to figure out what to do about you." "Come on, Scully. I'll tell you my mine if you tell me yours." "Go to sleep, Mulder. I'm going to look around and figure this out." Mulder closed his eyes and drifted a little, but then opened one eye. "You'll tell me about your dreams later though, right?" "If you're good." He smiled to himself and began to doze. "So I've been told." "Mulder!" "What?" he demanded, his eyes flying open to the sound of her terror. "Mulder, you're right! It's your dream. If you pass out, I go...somewhere else." "Where?" "I don't know." "Scully?" "'What?" she asked absently. "I'm scared." "So am I." Lovey lay in the dirt next to Mulder, watching him breathe. She decided if she monitored his every breath he wouldn't dare to die. His chest rose and fell with a satisfying rhythm, although the occasional breath seemed labored and out of the beat. She squirmed closer to him and placed her hand lightly on her chest to remind herself to stay awake. "When my mama died," she told him, "it was the worst, most horrible day of my life. She loved me fierce, my mama. She begged my brothers to send me to my aunt's in California. They lied to her on her death bed. Have you ever heard anything worse that that? They told her they'd send me right out there. But they didn't. They said I had to stay here and cook and stuff. I didn't want to though." She propped her head up in her hand to escape the exhaustion that threatened to overcome her. Tracing his features with her finger, she continued. "I'm hiding money, a little at a time. When I get enough, I'm outta here. I wish sometimes that I could just be with my mama though. You know how that is. Nobody ever gonna love you like your mama, right?" "I think I have to get you right outta here. I'm scared my brothers might try to kill you if I don't. I just don't know how to go about it. If I had a phone, I'd call your friends...the Feds, right? We don't though. Ever since Carl tore it outta the wall." "I mean, you need a doctor." "I wish you could tell me how to go about it." She slapped her hand over her mouth, having heard a snapping in the night that could have been footsteps. "Shh," she told him as she blew out her candle. (Part 01/02) From: JGreco217@aol.com Dreams are Answers (02/02) Author *Jamie Greco* jgreco217@aol.com See part one for all other info. Their words were distant, like a neighbor's TV and just as irritating. He could get bits and pieces of what they were saying, but their words tumbled around him and became muddled in the process. The dryness of his mouth was all encompassing, and he had trouble concentrating on anything but his need. But he was being discussed, and he felt he should try to at least get the gist so he could tell Scully when she came back. "Go back in the house, Lovey." "No." Murmured so quietly as to almost be silence. "What did you say to me?" A male voice, threatening, ominous. "I-I said--" Her scream was shrill, but Mulder felt distant, detached. Soon it was silent again "He's still alive." "I can see that." "Maybe it's good if he lives." "You mean if he lives after you shot him and after we dragged him half dead into a tool shed and left him to die?" "What are you saying?" "I'm saying we need to...take care of him." "But...what-how--?" "Come on back to the house. We can't talk here." Mulder struggled to come around, to save himself. But the darkness circled around the tatters of his consciousness and moved in. "Okay, I've got a plan," Scully began. "No 'hello, how are you'?" "Hello, Mulder. I've got a plan." "No kiss to prove you're really here?" "Don't push it." "Okay, what's your plan?" "I've been thinking. You know how I can see while we're here together?" "Yeah." "Mulder!" "What?" "Stay with me. I'm going to see how far away from you I can get and still see your surroundings and--" "Is this plan based on my theory that I'm unconscious and you are here in some form to rescue me?" "No, this is based on my theory that I'm asleep and I won't be able to get any rest until I rescue you." "What about the fact that I am here while you're gone and I'm thinking, but when I blink out from wherever I am you cease--" "Mulder! Do you want to compare theories, or do you want me to save you?" "I want you to save me, and you'd better be quick about it." "Why?" "Heckle and Jeckle were here a few minutes ago...or an hour, I don't know. Any way they sounded like a cross between the Clampetts and the Corleones." "What does that mean?" "It means they're going to finish the job soon, Scully." "All right...all right. Let's see what I can do here," she began to search for the entrance but the world began to dim at the edges. "Mulder, wake up." The three dimensional aspect began to fade away and look like a poor rendering of a murky landscape. "Mulder!" "What?" With a snap, the candlelit scene returned. "You have to stay with me," she told him, her lungs feeling completely hollowed of air. "It's hard, Scully." "Okay, I want you to talk to me, Mulder. Keep talking until I tell you to stop." "What do you want me to talk about?" "Since when did what I want you to talk about ever become an issue?" "It's just that I'm having trouble sorting through my brain. Everything is...I'm confused." "About what?" "Everything...you." "Me?" "Yeah." Scully had just stuck her head out of the entrance when it seemed as if someone began to turn down a dimmer switch once again. "Mulder?" "Hmm?" "What about me confuses you?" "What doesn't?" She stepped hesitantly as if the earth might dissolve under her feet. The night was almost completely impenetrable, although she thought she saw a house in the distance. Mulder sounded as if he were talking in his sleep. "Sometimes I wonder how you feel about me. I mean, sometimes I think you'd go through fire for me, and other times I think you'd like to throw me in a bonfire just to see what color light I'd make as I burned." "I'd never set you on fire, Mulder." "Really?" "Yup," she continued as she took a few more steps and lost the visual entirely. "I'd just shoot you. It's a lot easier, and I've already had the practice." "Well," Mulder said dryly, "that's a relief." "I can only get a few feet before everything goes black. So I can't see where you are. Are you sure you can't remember where you were when you were shot?" "I was shot?" "That's what I'd guess." Mulder tried to get a handle on his memories, but his brain would only consider the present. "Sorry, Scully. I just don't remember." She dropped her head and sighed. That was when she saw what looked like a sneakered foot. "That's okay, Mulder," she said as she squatted down. "We'll figure something out." "I know," he responded sleepily. "I can always count on you, Scully." She squinted in the dark and thought she could make out a tangle of dark hair. "Can't I, Scully?" "Can't you what?" "Count on you." "I hope so. Mulder?" "Hmmm?" "Have you got any idea if there is anyone here besides the two men you heard talking?" "Besides you?" "I'm not here, Mulder." "You're not?" He was sounding muddled, exhausted. "Not so that I can help you. I have to figure out how I can get here physically. Can you remember a girl, Mulder?" "You mean Lovey?" "Her name is Lovey?" "I think so. Does that help somehow?" "Maybe. Listen, Mulder, the sun is about to come up. Mulder!" "What?" "You're drifting away." "I'm trying...I think I'm going somewhere." "Where?" "I-I'm not sure." "Okay, I need you to hear me, Mulder. When the sun comes up, my alarm goes off, which means, if this is my dream--" "This isn't your dream, Scully. Remember? You kissed me." "What's that got to do with anything, Mulder?" "It has to be my dream if you kissed me." "I don't have time to discuss why that's irrelevant now. But I don't think it's my dream either. But I do believe I'm able to be here in some capacity because I am asleep. Once I wake up, I have to remember...something that will get me back here...something...Mulder? Mulder? Oh my god...Mulder. Come back!" Mulder winced at the pain that radiated in such a way that it was impossible for him to decide the source of his agony. The sun burned brightly through the doorway, and it only added to his desire to go to back to the blackness behind his eyes. "Fox?" He wasn't sure he had even heard his name. The wind was blowing so fiercely that it sounded like a thousand names being called urgently at the same time. He shifted his eyes and caught sight of a minimal slip of a woman as she leaned heavily against the door frame. "Scully?" "No," she murmured, lifting her hand to her eyes. "No, I think...I think she went away." "Where?" "I don't know. I just know we gotta get outta here, you and me. You gotta get back to wherever you came from, and I gotta get to California. They'd be happy to kill the both of us, Fox. We gotta get outta here." "Lovey? Lovey, right?" "That's right," she answered with a sad, sweet smile of surprise. "You remembered." "We have to stick together," he gasped as he tried to pull himself up on his elbow. "Those of us with unusual names have to stick together." She smiled more openly now. "I think Fox kind of suits you though." "How's that?" "I don't know," she answered dreamily. "You're kind of...pretty," she finished shyly. Mulder slung his weight behind him and tried to pull himself upright; but his head swam and he feared he would vomit, certainly negating Lovey's assessment of his looks. When he settled back though, he felt his mind settle back as well. He breathed deeply, hoping to come around. "Thanks, Lovey," he finally replied. "You're pretty too." "No, I'm not. My brother's say I'm uglier than a dog attacked by a weasel." "Don't believe everything brothers say. They're kind of required to say bad things to their sisters." He heaved himself up to a sitting position once again and found he was a little less unsteady, so he held that position. "Do you say bad things to your sister?" He looked at her, a little taken aback. When was the last time someone other than he had referred to Samantha in the present tense? It felt good. "I used to...say bad things when we were young." "But you didn't mean them?" "No." "And you still loved her?" she asked hopefully. "Yes, I loved her." "And now?" "I still love her." "Do you ever wish you had never said those bad things?" "I wish that a lot." "So...you're sorry?" "Yes, I am. But, Lovey, I never hurt her like your brothers hurt you." Her face fell. "I know they don't love me. But I always hoped they'd change their mind." "There will be somebody else to love you." "Really?" she asked breathlessly. "Do you really think someone will love me someday?" "I'm sure." "Like my mama?" Mulder watched her tender face twist with longing and hope. His heart squeezed with his desire to give her something to hold to. Something, he himself was sorely lacking. "Nobody loves you like your mama, Lovey," he murmured, testing his desire to move forward. "But, there's all kinds of love in the world. You have to go out and find it though. It's just not going to be here." She nodded her head slowly. Deciding, he was capable of trying again, Mulder leaned forward and braced his hands against the earth. Jacking up his knees and pushing harder, he wavered and spun out, but Lovey caught him and struggled to keep him upright. Finally they ended up against a wall. Lovey, under his raincoat, held him fiercely. They panted together, both weakened by their respective attacks, but Mulder more so. When their breathing evened out, Mulder looked into Lovey's timid face and smiled a little. Her sweet ferocity touched him; and he became determined to save her, even as he still depended on her for his salvation. "Are we ready, Lovey?" he whispered. She nodded, biting her lip. "We're ready, Fox." But she wiped tears of dreams long held, now shattered, from her eyes. "Let's go," he told her as they staggered out into the damp grass. He was surprised he was able to stay upright and concentrated on every step. Sunlight glittered on the fragrant grasses and he squinted to block it out. "Where are you going to go when we get out of here, Lovey?" he asked, mostly to keep himself in the present. "Don't you remember? I told you before. I'm going to California to live with my auntie." "California's nice," he responded, his breath mingling with the dampness of the air. "You been there?" "Yeah. Lot's of nice people out there, Lovey." "I bet you were a good brother, Fox," she told him in a small voice. Mulder paused and looked down at her, most of her face hidden within the confines of his raincoat, and he touched her cheek. It meant a great deal to hear her words, although she had no way of knowing or even the criterion to make a judgment. He told himself that he would help her when the time came for her to go to California. But all he spoke aloud was a quiet, "Thank you." "Hey, you!" A voice rang out over a steep incline. He heard the blast before he could turn his body to shield Lovey, and he tumbled backward over her, trying to save her from the full impact of his body. But soon he realized he had not been shot. Lovey had pulled him with her when the bullet found her and threw her back and away from his side. His horror was unfathomable. He pulled her out from under the folds of his coat and looked at her face. Her eyes were wide and still held the tears she had shed over her brothers. "Nooo," he moaned over her again and again, completely unaware of the team of police officers who screamed commands of compliance as they headed over the hill. He pulled Lovey against his chest and stroked her hair. He could smell the earth and the sky all at once in the knotted strands. "Don't die, Lovey," he pleaded. "Don't die. I swear I'll make it better for you. You just have to try a little longer." He looked down into her sweet face and knew she was gone, and his heart shattered into innumerable pieces. He closed her eyes and she looked like she was having a pleasant dream. Sinking to the ground beside her, he cradled her head and whispered to her until they came to take her away. "Mulder?" There was no answer. "Mulder, it's me." Scully pushed the door open with her shoulder as she juggled her packages in her arms and scoped his small apartment. "Where the hell is he?" she murmured to herself as she went into the kitchen. "Mu-" Her words were cut off in surprise as she turned quickly, encountering Mulder, freshly showered and dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. "Jeez, Scully, you scared the hell out of me!" "I scared the hell out of you!" She bent over slightly and concentrated on evening out her heartbeat. Mulder grinned. "You'd think it would take more than a surprise encounter to scare the two of us. I mean...two words...Fluke Man." Scully smiled back. "Not to mention the killer kitties." "Didn't even phase me," Mulder countered blandly as he began to rifle through the bags. "You keep telling yourself that." "No Cheetos?" He complained as he removed items haphazardly. "Nope, ne'ery a one. How are you feeling, Mulder?" "Okay. I'm getting used to being shot. Pretty soon you'll be able to watch an eclipse through me." "Hungry?" "A little." "If you swear not to tell anyone, I'll make you an omelet." "With cheese?" "Sure." "Real cheese?" "If you must." She began to gather equipment, pretending not to notice that Mulder had sunk into a chair and placed his hand over his eyes. "Tired?" she asked casually. "I shouldn't be. I've been in bed for a week." "It's natural to be tired. It's your first day home, and you were very sick." "Yeah," he barely acknowledged. "Mulder, I hear you had Lovey's body shipped to California." "Yeah," he replied again. "Always a day late and a dollar short." "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked as she whisked the eggs. "Nothing. I just wish..." "Mulder, you didn't even know that girl. You could not have intervened. It was entirely out of your hands." He shrugged. "You don't believe that though, do you?" "Maybe if I could have come to earlier." She dumped the eggs into the hot frying pan. "Now you're going to blame yourself for being unconscious! Mulder!" "And I was the one...I convinced her that she should leave." "What would you have preferred, that she stay with her brothers? It was her one chance and she knew that. Her brothers took that from her, not you." "Scully...I don't know...I just know somebody should have taken care of that girl. Why wasn't there anyone to do that?" "That's just the way it works out sometimes, Mulder." "Yeah...well...it pisses me off." "Me too." "I'll never forget her," Mulder said quietly, just barely aloud. "I know," Scully confirmed sadly, watching him briefly. "But I hope you can forgive yourself." "Scully, she was under my arm! If she had been apart from me, she'd be alive today." She turned the heat down and walked to him, shaking her head slightly. "You have some kind of crystal ball, Mulder?" "You don't need a crystal ball to know it's dangerous to know me, even briefly." She draped her arm around his shoulders, and he laid his head against her waist. "Good thing for you I like to live on the cusp of danger." "Is that so?" "Yup, danger, in fact, is my middle name." "I thought it was Katherine." "Changed it." "Does your mother know about this?" "No. And don't tell her." "What'll you give me to keep my mouth shut?" She smiled as she walked back to the stove. "Make up a list, and I'll look it over." Mulder grinned a little shyly. "That seems worth living for." "Good," she replied as she returned to the stove, slid the omelet onto a plate and placed it in front of him. Mulder looked at the appetizing omelet and looked into Scully's face with appreciation. "This looks great!" "Tastes even better," she advised as he dug his fork into the steaming eggs. He closed his eyes and moaned under his breath. "Mmm, Scully, you're a constant source of fascinating delights." "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." She enjoyed watching him eat. There was no denying it, although she doubted she'd ever share the information as the reasoning behind her pleasure had little to do with sustenance and everything to do with sexual comparisons. He poked at the eggs after a while and looked at her hesitantly. "Scully?" "Nope, I didn't buy bacon." "Damn! Then can we talk about...what we talked about in the hospital?" "You mean the dreams we had?" "Scully! Come on! You've admitted that there were many parallels." "So there were parallels. It's a coincidence." "Oh, it's a coincidence that you happened to wake up with Lovey's name tattooed on your consciousness! Tattooed, Scully! And that was the way you found me!" "It was...I had been to that house with you the day before. I probably saw her name somewhere." "You admitted that you dreamed," he paused to mime quotation marks around the word dream, "that you kissed me! I dreamed that you kissed me!" "Mulder...have you ever made love to me...in your dreams." "Wh-what?" "I asked you if--" "I heard you. I don't see where that has any bearing--" "Just...tell me, Mulder." He sighed and looked at his eggs, stabbing at them randomly. "I don't think it's unusual for a man to have dreams with sexual content concerning the woman he works with." "So the answer is yes." He dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter. "Yes, so what's your point?" She looked away from him, as if she just remembered something that had been bothering her for years. "My point is...I've dreamt about making love to you too." Mulder's mouth dropped lightly, but he recovered quickly. "I'm flattered, Scully." "My point being, do you feel that we have made love together as a result of our having similar dreams?" He pushed back from the table abruptly and got to his feet. "Scully, goddamit!" He saw spots float across his field of vision and he swayed slightly, grasping the table. "Mulder," Scully said questioningly as she quickly came to his side. "Are you all right?" "Yeah, I think I'm just...tired." "Come on, let's go to bed." "Scully, I can't tell you how long I've--" "Oh, shut up, Mulder. Couch or bed?" "Bed." "Come on," she guided him toward his bedroom. "I'm all right, Scully." "I can see that," she said as she helped him crawl under the covers. Once he was settled, she headed back toward the kitchen but stopped at the threshold. "Mulder?" "Hmm?" he answered, rolling over and watching her through hooded eyes. "When...we were together," she grinned at her concession, as did her partner. "Did I say why I kissed you?" He shrugged a little. "It was to show me you were really there. That you were with me." She pursed her lips and nodded before she walked back to his bed, slid her hand under his neck and placed a gentle but arousing kiss on his lips. He stirred when she parted and reached out for her, and he returned the kiss with a little more insistence. But she pressed him back, willing him to rest, to recover. Leaning over him as he reluctantly and silently agreed to her unspoken request, she whispered, "I'm with you, Mulder. I want you to know that I'm with you." Did you like it? Email me, I'd love to hear... jgreco217@aol.com