From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Tue,  1 Jul 2008 12:33:20 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: Sleep Sweet Dreams (PG) by Adrienne
Source: direct

Reply To: davephile@yahoo.com


Title: Sleep Sweet Dreams (1/1)
Author: Adrienne < davephile@yahoo.com > 
Date: July 1, 2008
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Classification: V
Keywords: MSR
Archive: Anywhere, in its entirety
Summary: Dreams are a window to reality.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't my characters; they 
belong to CC and the crew. They're just my reason to look 
forward to the end of July.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sometimes I surprise myself and write 
something that's not so dang nasty. Hope it's enjoyable.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm afraid to dream," Mulder said. He gazed out the window 
above his desk, his elbows on his knees.

"Why?" Scully asked, clicking the television off. She sat 
back on the couch, watching him examine the leaves beating 
against the thin pane of glass. It was a sad attempt at 
distracting himself from the significance of his words.

"Because it's rarely good."

She thought of her dreams, bits and pieces she recollected 
from mornings past. She'd had her share of disturbances, 
peppered with scenes of sanguinity. They'd seen some of those 
nightmares play out in front of their very eyes. Nothing 
seemed impossible anymore.

"Psychologically, dreams are just a reflection of our 
subconscious concerns or desires, Mulder. It doesn't mean 
they're prophetic or at all a realistic representation of 
what we perceive as actually affecting our lives," Scully 
said.

He looked back at her, smiling and shaking his head. "You're 
too much sometimes."

"Hey. Do you want help or not? I'm just trying to help." She 
nudged her elbow against his arm. He let a soft laugh escape.

"Maybe you can help me sleep," he said.

"Do you want me to continue with the psychobabble until you 
fall asleep from boredom?"

"If that hasn't happened already, it never will." He shied 
away from her, expecting and receiving a gentle shove on his 
arm. "But maybe, I don't know. Would you lie down with me for 
awhile, just until I'm out?"

It caught her a little off guard. She raised her eyebrows 
with a sigh. "I could."

"Would you?"

She glanced sideways at him. "Okay. But no funny business."

"Come on, Scully. When have I ever conducted myself funnily?"

"Will you just go? Get ready and let me know when you're in 
bed."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Scully?" he called. It was odd, hearing him call her name 
from his bedroom of all places. She rose from the couch and 
nervously peeked around the door. Mulder was climbing into 
bed wearing a t-shirt and boxers. Scully repressed a sigh of 
relief. No funny business.

She waited until he'd settled in to take off her shoes at the 
side of his bed. She slid into bed, facing him. He was on his 
side and watched her pull the sheet and comforter up over 
their bodies. Scully tucked it around him and he slid his 
hand up under his face, resting against it and staring deeply 
into her eyes. She gave him a soft smile and relaxed into the 
pillow. Mulder smiled back.

"You can't sleep with your eyes open," she said.

"I don't want to stop looking at you," he answered, a little 
pout slipping past his lower lip.

"You can look at me tomorrow." She snuggled deeper into his 
bed.

"Promise?"

Her laugh was barely audible. "It depends on how you're 
looking. Now close your eyes."

Mulder sighed and did as he was told. Scully traced feather-
light fingertips along the edge of his ear, his jaw line, 
across his lips.

"How am I supposed to sleep with you doing that?" he asked, 
kissing her fingers as they swept past. It made her smile 
more.

"Well, by not talking, for one," she answered, pressing one 
finger against his soft lips. "I used to do this to Charlie 
all the time, when we were in back of the car on family 
vacations. We always drove, no matter how far. It made me 
crazy sometimes. I always got stuck taking care of him."

"Just like you're always stuck taking care of me," he mused.

She pushed her fingers through the soft tufts of hair along 
his forehead, silk sliding through and escaping to be 
captured again in slow, methodical strokes. "I'm a doctor. 
That's what I do."

Mulder opened his eyes. "In that case, I'm overdue for a 
physical."

She tugged on his hair and he grimaced. "Not now. Now, you 
sleep."

"Yes, Dr. Scully," he sighed, closing them again.

She continued stroking his hair, massaging his scalp 
delicately. The silence provided a welcome embrace to both of 
them. Streetlight filtering through his window was the only 
reminder of a harsh outside world, waiting just beyond to 
send them rushing into morning yet again.

Scully's gentle movements started to take their 
intended effect. Sleep slowly captured him, detectable only 
in minutiae at first. The flutter of his eyelids and his 
futile struggle against it. His lips slightly parted, taking 
in a first settling sigh. Mulder, who'd waged war on the most 
despicable forces imaginable, waged war on peace as well. 
Like giving in meant giving up.

"Scully...stay," Mulder murmured. His breathing cycled 
rhythmically as he lost grasp of the few remaining tendrils 
of lucidity. She stroked his head lightly, her motions 
slowing, until her fingers finally traced down to the nape of 
his neck.

She observed him in beautiful repose, at long last his mind 
at ease.

She fell asleep with her hand there, as if the connection 
could keep him from pulling away from tranquility.

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