From: XAPen Date: Wed, 15 Apr 1998 08:36:57 EDT Subject: XAPEN: "Pavor Nocturnus" by L. Howell (1/1) Title: Pavor Nocturnus Author: L. Howell Feedback: bookdal@bellsouth.net Disclaimer: The XFiles and its characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, Chris Carter, 1013 productions, etc. No money is made off of this endeavor. Rating and Class: R, VA Summary: A vision of Mulder's dream world. Author's Notes: This is a story that came to me one night. It's kinda strange, but I hope it is enjoyable. I have found Mulder to be a fountain of creative inspiration. Pavor Nocturnus By L. Howell Somewhere in The Night. . . . "Come to me Fox." The ethereal voice of heaven sang to his soul and Fox Mulder knew death was imminent. Life and silence played with each other, rehearsing the lines of an age-old motion picture. And he stood by while the band marched and the spirits flew. "Come to me Fox." He walked to the center of his being, the core of the mandala. To be here. To taste the sweet air of a static moment where nothing and everything existed simultaneously. To be here, listening to the voices of his lovers united, their words mingling with the sounds of his beating heart. To be here. To be dead. To be. "Fox? It is time." But Scully is not here. Scully, with her brilliant red hair and cold blue eyes. No, she is out there in the arena of images, clinging to his name. "Come to me Dana." All of a sudden the lights came on. Blinding white. Intense. Every particle in his body shot forward into the darkness, dragging him through elongated tunnels of perception where colors were scents, sight was sound, touch was taste. His limbs encompassed the flight, moving through space with ease and comfort. It was warm and heavy like suspended gelatin. Sensation rippled along his skin. To be dead. The journey stopped in a field. It was carpeted with a thousand Samanthas. All of them saying his name. "Fox!" He covered his ears with his arms, but he could still hear them. "Fox!Fox!Fox!!!" A tidal wave of familiar faces crashed down upon him, drowning him with their innocent breaths. Killing him with his name. Then, from somewhere, a finger alighted upon his lips. Eyes open, Mulder sees her. Scully. But it is not her. It is the fantasy her, draped in layers of transparent silk. The lines of her body carving out his vision, obscuring the world around her. All things were her. He felt the soft finger tip trace his face, sketching his cheeks and mouth. Marking him. "Come to me Fox." Her husky voice embraced him as did her arms. Fiery red hair, cold blue eyes. Her mouth moved along his neck, her teeth nipping at him in small, intermittent bites. Ecstasy engulfed him. "Fox..." The sound of his name on her lips excited him. It was a foreign experience fraught with the aching familiarity of life's desires. A wicked thought came to him. In death, he could possess her. He grabbed her face. His lips descended on hers with repressed hunger, devouring her from the outside in. He needed to feel her essence inside his mind, savor her intelligence and her beauty while he had the chance. His arms slid around her waist, lifting her with subtle ease. And the field was transformed into a bedroom. It resembled a church with high ceilings that peaked somewhere in the heavens and stained glass windows that painted the interior with multicolored shadows. An altar. A bed. A sinner and a saint. He laid her down, letting the folds of her gown slip through his fingers until all of her was covered with the hues of his chapel. He stared at her. Her eyes looked at him with lethargic lust, the drowsy stare of an aroused lover. The fragrance of incense enveloped her, consecrating her body with divinity. To be here with her. Slowly, like a connoisseur, he sipped her. "Fox," his name again on her breath, "slip under my skin." Obeying her command, Mulder slid into her body. A moment of reverence overtook him, stilling his movement. His mind tumbled over history, uncovering the hidden secrets of timeless knowledge. God was her presence. His gaze locked with hers. She knew him. Her life was engraved on his soul, her body imprinted on his flesh. Instinct drove him forward, pushing him into the light. He stretched into the vision, grasping at the tiny speck of luminosity that invited him to collapse in upon himself. Not alone, he could hear her in his brain. His decadent companion raced towards the same goal, and as they drew near, the tiny dot exploded into infinity, tearing them apart with energy and rapture. Being separated from itself and Mulder saw her. Not the fantasy her, but the real her. Standing on the other side of his mirror image, weeping the tears of the mournful. For one brief, endless space of time he caressed her face, saying with a touch what could never be said with words. He kissed her lips and noticed she smelled of roses. Lifting his eyes, he felt the thorny pricks jabbing his cheek and mouth. Black roses replaced her. The walls dissolved and a field of nothing appeared. To be here. To be dead. To be dead with her. "Come to me Fox." The voice beckoned him, guiding him to a house from the past. His childhood rose up before him, introducing the man to the memories. Peeking in, Mulder saw the young boy and the little girl playing a game. They were arguing. A smile lit the man's face, remembering the small spats that seemed so serious yet were not. In fascination, he watched as the young boy pushed his sister. Children, he thought. The little girl pushed back, and a struggle ensued. About to turn away, Mulder stared in horror as the boy's hands connected with the girl's shoulders. In slow motion, the little girl fell backwards. Her descent was illuminated by the flickering, eerie glare of the television. Her hand reached out for the paralyzed boy, but hit the button on the television instead, changing the channel. A scifi movie accompanied the moment when her head met the hard, unbending edge of the table. The boy screamed. His eyes moved back and forth between the fallen girl and the television screen. Death and aliens melted together into his unconscious while the man outside screamed with the terror of restored life. "NO!!!!!" He ran inside. The boy still stood immobile, caught in the terror. Passing the boy, he kneeled beside the lifeless body. Brushing aside the long brown hair, Mulder touched the bloody wound at her temple. Her eyes were open, its expression trapped by unexpected death. The strange glare covered her face, and the boy just stared. His decision made, Mulder picked the girl up. He reached the door when he heard, "Wait. Where are you taking her?" Mulder glanced back at him, taking in the room and its iridescence and said, "I am abducting her." Turning away, he caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror and saw the face of his dead father staring back. Suddenly, the scene changed. The girl evaporated into his black roses. Emptiness smelled like flowers. To be here. To be dead. Agony and ecstasy united into one voice, "Come to me Fox." And the heavens sang as he lifted the roses to the sky. "I am here. I am alive. Come to me." And the world collapsed upon itself as Mulder awakened to the bright light of a new day. An unsettling emotion gripped his stomach, but his vision was blinded to the memories and the desires. Sunlight and false light greeted his ignorant mind. The terror of the night forgotten in the dawn, but somewhere deep inside his soul, death whispered, "Come to me Fox." But Fox Mulder is deaf today. The End Author's Notes: Did you like it?