From: sister-sue Date: Mon, 28 Sep 1998 08:04:49 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Falling 1/1 Title: Falling Author: Suzanne Schramm E-mail: sister-sue@rocketmail.com Rating: PG Classification: V, MSR, maybe a little A Archive: I'll send it to Gossamer. Everyone else, only if you ask first (I won't say no, I just want to know where it ends up). Spoilers: Ascension, One Breath, End Game, Small Potatoes, and the movie. Summary: A dream becomes reality for Scully. Disclaimer: The characters in this little story belong to CC, Ten-Thirteen, etc. I'm using them without permission but I hope you'll overlook my indiscretion. Author's Notes: All my thanks and devotion go to Alanna, Aileen and Rachel for keeping me honest. If this story makes any sense, it's all due to them. Dedication: For Mark, my one in five billion. ****** Sometimes I dream I'm falling. I've had these dreams all my life. As a child I had a recurring dream of being chased over the edge of a cliff. I'd have this dream at least five or six times a year - before starting school, before a major test, every time we moved to a new base and, strangely enough, the night before my birthday. Often it was only a nameless, faceless sense of terror that sent me hurtling out into nothingness. I'd see the ground rushing toward me and be unable to close my eyes. My mouth would be open to scream but no sound would come out. Just as I was about to hit the bottom I would awaken, springing up in bed almost as if I were bouncing back from the impact. When I was ten I confessed to Melissa I was having the dreams and she promptly became an expert in dream interpretation. "Dreams of falling mean that you feel out of control and helpless," she informed me. Well, like I said, I was a child. How much control does a ten-year old have? "Make sure you wake up, Dana, before you hit the bottom. If you hit the bottom in your dream and die, you'll die in real life, too." Those words would come back to me when I'd dream of falling after that. I'd realize that I was dreaming and I would wake up, long before coming to the bottom. I owe Melissa that. The dreams became less frequent as I grew older and more in control of my destiny. In fact, until the last few years, I didn't have them at all. Then they returned with a vengeance. I awoke in a panic in the Northeast Georgetown Medical Center the night after coming out of a coma. I had dreamed I was back on Skyland Mountain in the trunk of my car. I could see Duane Barry above me, his eyes fevered as he spoke to me in what he, no doubt, hoped was a reassuring tone, "It's almost time. You must come with me." After hours of being cramped in the trunk my legs shook and I had been unable to walk. Barry had half-dragged, half-carried me in his zeal. "Come on, come on! It's almost time!" He had become more agitated the closer we got to the crest of the hill. In my dream I did what I'd been unable to do in real life, I ran away. My bound wrists swung from left to right in front of me as I struggled through air that felt heavy and thick. My whole body shook with the effort to keep going, desperation driving me onwards. When my legs dropped out from under me I fleetingly thought I had stumbled until I realized I was falling. For the first time I couldn't see the ground rushing toward me. I was surrounded by a Stygian emptiness and the sickening sense of plummeting through open space. Without the ground to remind me it was only a dream and I only had to wake up to make it stop I continued falling, my throat turning raw from silent screams. After an eternity I sat up in my bed. My left wrist stung where I had pulled out the I.V. Dazed and blinking I stared at the parking lot lights diffused through the half-closed blinds on my window. What had brought me here - literally and figuratively? I couldn't puzzle out an answer. My mind wandered in circles for a few hours before I finally slipped into a dreamless sleep. I've had the dream other times since then. Most bizarrely a week after Eddie van Blundht made his appearance on my couch. Only this time he didn't turn back into Eddie. Instead he morphed into that stiletto-carrying bounty hunter who'd also used Mulder's face as his passport. Horrified I pushed back from him, off the couch and into nothing. As I fell I looked up to see his impassive face joined by Mulder's. The disbelief and shock on Mulder's features were still with me when I woke up. I dreamt of falling when I was diagnosed with cancer. I woke up to a nosebleed, my sheets tangled and sweaty around me. It should go without saying that I've come to hate the sensation of falling and the implications it has on my ability to control my life. Until just now. Tonight. Tonight, wide awake, but dizzy just the same, I feel myself inching closer to the edge of that metaphorical cliff Mulder and I have danced on for six years now. The attraction between us, never spoken of but understood clearly, is taking on a life of its own. In a way it was much more obvious when we first started working together. He used to flirt with me openly. As time passed and we grew to know each other's moods and unspoken language he became much more subtle - a touch, a glance, a teasing remark. I knew them for what they were - seduction. Tonight Mulder has become bold, driven by the realization that he is losing me. He holds my gaze, refusing to back down and I am unable to look away. He confesses that he needs me with his words while his eyes confess that the need goes much deeper than anything sexual. It is a much more elemental need, a recognition of all our shared experiences and the forces that had never yet succeeded in dividing us. Right now I am confident nothing could ever separate us. I move to embrace him and we stand, just holding each other, sealing his words between our bodies. "You make me a whole person." When I move back slightly he remains with his head bowed. It is the most natural thing in the world for me to kiss his forehead. It is a promise, a silent return of all the emotions he just laid bare before me. I rest my forehead against his, overcome with tenderness. Only in my nightmares do I fall. Mulder has spent over twenty years in a free fall. I've always realized that I was his life line but tonight it no longer seems like such a burden. I acknowledge to myself, at last, that I need him just as desperately. He, too, makes me whole. Tonight he is the one who's grounded and I am falling. My eyes fill with tears and I cannot find the words to express my overwhelming love for him. Mulder's hand tightens reflexively on my shoulder and I know that he understands. I give him a shaky smile as I sway toward him, taking that first step off the cliff. His lips brush mine and the world spins. I am in a free fall and then, pain!, sudden and sharp at the back of my neck. I pull back, confused. For a split second I think it's actually my conscience crying out at the breaking of this ultimate taboo. "Sorry." Mulder's voice is soft and uncertain. "No. I've been stung." My mouth is dry and my tongue feels thick. My suddenly numb fingers locate the bee and I look at it uncomprehendingly. Mulder murmurs something to me but I can't understand him, my ears are ringing. I can feel his hand move soothingly over my neck and I rest my head against his shoulder, feeling heavy and weak. I try to push back so I can see his eyes but find I can't move. "Scully?" Now I truly am falling. I can feel Mulder's arms trying to stop me, I can sense his panic matching my own as I try to tell him in cold clinical terms what's happening as I drop further down into blackness. My last conscious thought is that he'll catch me. **** END