From erica.miszti@premium-mail.co.uk Wed Dec 25 18:16:31 1996
This is not a Christmas story but a story meant for Christmas.  

Thanks to the people that wrote to me when I said that I felt alone.  I
didn't mean it to be taken that seriously but thanks for caring.  This
story is for you.

Rated: G
Archiving:  V (very short) and A (for a little bit of Mulder-angst)
Summary:  Mulder isn't quite sleeping but it isn't really awake - he's
in the Place of Half-Dreams.  

Disclaimer:  Come on, it's Christmas!  Lighten up a little.  It's just
for fun.  Mulder and situations described aren't mine.  I didn't pay for
him, but I returned him to the specified location when I was finished
with him.  (Undamaged but tired).  

*********************************
The Place of Half-Dreams (1/1)

by
Erica Miszti (Erica.Miszti@premium-mail.co.uk)

*****************************

Mulder wasn't asleep, but he was dreaming.  The couch wasn't comfortable
but the smell of the warmed leather gave him comfort.  He wasn't awake,
but he could feel sleep.  It was a weird place that he was inhabiting at
this moment.  He'd been here before many times, but the first time he
really remembered was the night after Sam was gone.  

He could half-hear the sharp raindrops hitting the window pane and the
faint hiss of sound from the TV which he'd forgot to set on the
off-timer before falling asleep.  He could half-hear Sam's bright
laughter and her voice calling to him, coaxing him, during a game of
hide-and-seek; "Come and find me Fox".  He could half-hear the sound of
his parents arguing downstairs from that horrible day after Sam
disappeared.  He could half-hear the taunts of the children in the
playground about the spooky boy with the stupid name who's sister had
vanished into thin air.  An expensive education but not a happy one.  He
could half-hear Phoebe's shrill laughter, set against church bells.  His
most vivid memory of England was those bells.  He could half-hear Scully
telling him that she wouldn't put herself on the line for anyone but
him.  He could half-hear her desperate voice calling to him; "Mulder!  I
need your help..Mulder!!".  He could half-hear the mournful sound of
Lucy Householder crying.  And his own tears..echoing endlessly..  

A thousand other perfectly preserved memories flashed through his brain
and before his eyes.  A stream of information which felt to him as if it
went on forever, but he wasn't asleep and this wasn't a dream.  All this
had happened and he couldn't get any of it out of his head.  

But he wasn't awake.  He knew that because things made a twisted kind of
sense here.  As if all the answers were here, in *these* memories,
somewhere inside *his* head.  Maybe he should investigate his head as an
X-File.  Inside the half-dream world, he grinned.  In the half-reality,
he grimaced.  That about summed it up.  All of it.  He lived here most
of the time.  Somewhere between reality and the inside of his own mind.
The answer *had* to be in here purely because he was in here.  

Scully was here, but she could never see inside.  No one ever could.  No
lover.  No friend.  No parent.  Not even a lost sister.  And certainly
not a partner who had pain enough of her own to deal with.  She had her
own Place of Half-Dreams and he was denied access to that just as she
was to his.  But he was there.  Maybe that's how it is with everyone.
All of us alone inside our own minds with just ourselves for company.
Madness, but willingly.  

2 AM.  Some part of him informed the rest.  How his body was so sure
Mulder would never understand.  Running true to his nocturnal pattern,
he would soon need a trip to the freezing cold of the bathroom.  He
schooled himself not to think of anything cold or he might precipitate
the trip.  In the way of many unknown to him, Mulder didn't want to
leave the Place of Half-Dreams just yet.  

His thoughts drifted away from the specifics of his life without him
really noticing the moment that they left.  He was still aware of his
apartment around him; the slight cold chill off the glass of the window
because he'd forgotten to pull the drapes again, the sound of the rain,
the TV set meaninglessly droning on and the filter pump of the fish tank
giving unnecessary air to the ghosts of long dead tropical fish.
Suddenly everything made perfect sense.  The world was calm and still.
He could see everything so clearly.  The meaning of existence.  The
entire universe was within in his grasp and he reached out his hand to
encircle the brightness of the stars hovering above the couch.  He felt
cold.  The apartment was cold.

It all began to slid away.  He reached further, higher, just one more
inch, just one more fraction, just a little, fingertips grazing the
answer, the truth...and he fell off the couch.                       

Despite being slammed straight into completely unwelcome consciousness
Mulder still tried to hold on to the wisps of the knowledge he had
glimpsed.  It was too late.  Reality had won and the dream world had
vanished once more into the depths of his mind.  The knowledge of a
thousand stars gone in an instant.  Forgotten.  He could reel off a
million facts from a hundred books and articles, but he could not
remember the thoughts of the previous few moments.  Torture.  Then his
bladder woke up as well.  It was freezing cold in the moonlight blue
apartment.  "Bathroom - *now* Mulder."  His bladder informed him.
Mulder hauled himself up off the floor, ran a weary, resigned, hand
through his hair and staggered into the bathroom.

He came back feeling better *and* warmer, though he couldn't really
figure out why because the apartment was just as cold as it had been
before.  He drew the drapes closed after a quick glance out of the
window at the cars parked beneath.  Dark sedans.  Could mean anything,
but from this angle he couldn't see if there was anyone inside them.
Probably just paranoia.  He hadn't done anything drastic recently.
There were always the bugs he regularly checked for in the apartment,
but a bug didn't actually need to be on the premises in order to hear
his every word.  Technology is a such a wonderful thing, he thought
sarcastically.  Ignore it.  Live with it.  They were your parents.  This
is their legacy to you.  Their present.  Round the clock surveillance.
Gee mom, I wanted a train set.  

Then came the big question: couch or bed?  He turned off the TV set as
he tried to decide.   The apartment wasn't silent without it as he'd
almost expected.  The rain still fell heavily outside and the filter on
the tank pumped water around endlessly.  He stared at the cloudy water
for a moment, noting once again the absence of fish.  He felt very
alone.  With the drapes drawn and the TV off it was quite dark in the
room and he stood there in the centre - dark suit pants and white shirt
both crumpled beyond belief - just thinking about how alone he was.  His
cell-phone lying on the top of the TV caught his eye.  It would be so
easy to ring Scully.  

"Hey Scully, were you asleep?"  He'd say with a repressed grin, knowing
full well that she had been.  
"Mulder it's 2 AM, why would I be asleep?"  She'd counter in the thick,
sleep roughened tone that made him smile and turned him on.  

He didn't pick up the phone.  She'd be sleeping peacefully.  Maybe in
*her* Place of Half-Dreams.  

The couch.  He decided and lay down.  He curled onto his side and
crossed his hands over his chest like a vampire hanging from the
ceiling.  Except vampires didn't hang from the ceiling, his eidetic
memory reminded him.  They prefer to frequent bars in LA.  How could you
expect anything else?  You need more sleep and less caffeine, he
chastised himself.  He closed his eyes and saw Scully smile in his
memory.  Without thinking, he smiled too.
"Goodnight Scully."  He whispered.  

In no time at all, Mulder was granted admittance back into the Place of
Half-Dreams.  The knowledge which gave him peace was back within his
grasp.  If only for a few hours.  

********

We're all lifetime members of the Place of Half-Dreams.  It exists if
you just believe in it.  We think we're alone when we go there but we're
not.  Next time when you lie there in bed, suspended between reality and
somewhere else, allow yourself the possibility that the Place of
Half-Dreams *is* real and that millions of other people are just a
heartbeat, a whisper of a dream, away from you.  Nothing devides people
except for their own belief that they stand devided.  Mulder knows that
intellectually but is unable to apply it to his life and to act upon it.
 Most of us feel the same.  We never see the holes we dig for ourselves
until we're in so deep that we can't get out without help.  

Alone?  We're never alone.  Devided?  Only if we choose to be.  If we
let ourselves be.  Or if we let others make us that way.   

Now if I can just convince myself of that..<g>

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,
Erica (25/12/96)

XXX