From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Sun, 12 Nov 2000 12:55:11 -0600 Subject: Sorreis and Dreams by *Biala* Source: direct Reply To: bialakamiena@hotmail.com Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, I know. I don't own them and never will. But hey, it doesn't matter, because I use them anyway! Major spoiler for Triangle, so if you haven't seen it, you kind of miss the whole point. But it is about a ship that went missing in 1939, which magically reappear in the Bermuda Triangle in 1999. Scully POV Now on with the show! Sorries and Dreams I regret the words the moment they slip through my mouth. "Oh brother." How on earth could I say such horrible words to Mulder after he just said what I most of all want him to say? If anyone in this partnership is crazy, it's me, no matter what everyone else says. At least when it comes to talking. Why do I always screw special moments like this by running away from my own feelings? Why can I never learn not to be afraid of myself? God, I hate me at this moment! I let myself drop in one of the chairs out in the hospital hallway and sigh. What the hell was I thinking about? Nothing that I should think about, apparently. I mentally slap myself very hard in the face. Whish Mulder could do it instead. It would feel so much more if he did it, create so much more pain in me, both physical and psychological. "I love you." I once again recall the words I heard just a minute ago and lift my eyes from my palms to look at the door to Mulder's room. I see his face before me, just as he looked when I walked out on him *again*. I mentally slap myself again. When am I going to stop walking out on Mulder? My Mulder. My Mulder who I in fact do care for, even if it doesn't seem like it at times like these. Here I have to stop myself from going any further. I have to think. *My* Mulder? When did he become *my* Mulder? Nope, Dana. He isn't your Mulder, and he never will be, if you keep hurting him like this. And yet there's no other thing in the world I want more than Mulder to finally become *my* Mulder. And I keep spoiling the chances. Have I made a mess of my life or what?! I sigh once more and recall all the other things Mulder said to me. About me saving the world on board on a luxury liner stuck in the Bermuda Triangle, Skinner as a Nazi, and all the other stuff. Then I feel my lips curl upwards in a smile. It's just so Mulder, all of this. No one else would ever be able to create such a story and then try and convince me that it's true. But Mulder does, and if I didn't know better, I'd start to believe him. Then I remember why I'm out here in this very uncomfortable chair and my smile stops. I bury my head in my palms and close my eyes. I see his face before me again: His puppy- dog eyes begging me to take him serious as so many other times before, his bruised cheek, which looked as though someone had hit him very hard on it. But he probably just got it from hitting his small boat when falling overboard. Now, this is just like me. Finding rational solutions to everything. And I sure know how to pick the right times for doing so! Now I feel sleep coming over me like a wave. In a few moments I won't be able to resist. I'm just too god- damned tired. It's hard not to be after chasing my partner around half the country trying to save his ass. As usual. Just before I'm ready to give up to the wonderful feeling of rest and sleep, I try to recall what really happened at the "Queen Anne". The only thing I manage to remember now, however, is a strong feeling of deja vu in one of the corridors as I chased after the Gunmen. It felt just as if I had been there, on the exact same place, only a very long time ago. Almost as if my former me walked right through me at that very moment. But I know that can't be true. And now I finally give up and sink in to the land of dreams. I hear voices. The familiar and beloved sound of water against a hull is mixed with the sound of many voices shouting in English and in German. The floor under my feet moves slowly, just as if I were on a ship of some kind. A rather big ship, according to the slow movements. I try to look around, but there's some kind of fog in front of my eyes, clouding my vision. I have a strange feeling in my gut; I know it's me standing there experiencing this, yet I don't feel like myself at all. I close my eyes hard, trying to sort my thoughts and feelings, but it's too hard. I give up and slowly look up again. Now the fog isn't so dense, and I can see that I'm in some kind of ball room, with a lot of people in and a band on a stage. It appears as though the people, including me, were dancing, and the band playing, but now everybody stands still, looking at a couple of men in uniforms shouting angry things in German. One of them is pointing at a man with a gun, and another, who appears to be the one in charge, gives order to shoot. The one with the gun pulls the trigger and the man at the other end of the muzzle of the gun drops dead to the floor in a pool of blood. Everyone in the room takes a step back and there's horror in the eyes of everyone. I feel even weirder than I did before. I know somehow that I'm part of all this tumult. But I still stand aside as a watcher. I can't get the pieces together, no matter how hard I try. Everything I see, everything I hear, is in slow- motion. Then, my eyes catches something so familiar to me I'd recognize it anywhere: Mulder's face. And in some strange way I know that this is really Mulder, not some double of him living in what appears to be the late 1930s. I try to talk to him, but he obviously can't here me. I can't even hear my own voice, the words get stuck somewhere, it is as though there's no air for the sound waves to travel in. Suddenly, people start throwing chairs and pointing guns at each other everywhere in the room. I feel Mulder grab my hand and I both see and feel myself running out of the chaos in the ball room. We run along the long corridors of the ship, hide around corners, trying to prevent the German soldiers to find and shoot us. Then the weirdest thing of all happens. I feel myself as I did before and I see myself not in one but in two versions. One 1999- Scully, and one 1939 in a long red dress. We are running in opposite directions and then through each other. We both stop for a moment, trying to get what just happened, but then we both shrug our shoulders. Mulder grabs my 1939-hand and pulls me with him in the other direction. I follow Mulder, I can actually feel myself running hand in hand with him down towards the stern. Then I hear a voice shouting something in German and we stop. I exchange a few words with Mulder, then I hear a gunshot. Someone who looks just like Skinner has killed the man who made us stop, and we start to run again. When we finally come up on deck in the stern, the slow- motion disappears and I only feel myself in the body of the 1939-me. Mulder explains to me that I have to turn the ship around, otherwise Germany will win the war that broke out that very day when Hitler and his army occupied Poland, and it'll be the end of the world. I here myself saying: "So if I don't turn this ship around?" "It's most likely that I won't exist. And neither will you. So in case we never meet again" Mulder continues my questioning statement and grabs me around the waist. He presses his lips hard against mine and kisses me. It's a long, hungry kiss, and eventually I give in to it. When we finally break it, gasping for air, I lift my right fist high in air and hit him hard across his left cheek. My fist aches and he touches his presumably hurting face, mere saying: "I was expecting a left." With that empty statement he jumps overboard. I run to the railing, but it's too late, so I just throw out a life buoy to him as he sinks deep into the water... "Agent Scully?" I hear a familiar voice calling my name and open my eyes to meet myself face to face with A.D. Skinner. I feel myself redden, both from the memory of the elevator incident, and from his having to wake me up like this in a hospital hallway. I straighten up in my chair and reply: "Yes, sir?" "Agent Mulder is asking for you." "Oh," I say and smooth my shirt, which has gone wrinkled during my sleep. "I thought he was asleep, sir?" "He was, yes, but he woke up just a few minutes ago and immediately asked for you." I get up of my chair and take a deep breath, trying to remember everything I dreamt. I walk slowly to Mulder's door and open it. A nurse is bending over him, checking his blood pressure. He smiles at me and the first thing I notice is his left cheek, which has a bruise just the size of my fist. I find it hard to meet his eyes, but force myself to it, and as the nurse walks out and closes the door after her, I walk to sit on his bedside. I feel all my love for him rush through me and take his hand, as so many times before at his bedside at a hospital. "You asked for me?" I say hesitantly. "Yeah, I... I just wanted you here with me." He smiles at me, and I try to return it, but it's hard. I just hate myself too much at the moment. "Mulder, I-" I can't continue. "What Scully? What is it?" "Mulder, I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry." "For what?" He genuinely sounds surprised. "First: hitting you so hard in your face. Second: Not believing you. Third: 'Oh brother'." "I'm the one who should be apologizing. First of all I'm sorry for ditching you. Again. And making you break all possible rule trying to save my ass. Most of all, sorry for making you kiss the boss..." Here he gives me one of his lopsided grins, and I know he's teasing me. "I...I...Did he tell you about that?" I know I sound stupid, but I'm just so surprised. "Well, he was quite embarrassed, and I believe he wanted to know if it was something you did on a daily basis or something, I guess." "Stop it Mulder!" "Alright, I won't tease you for getting passionate with the boss." "I'm serious, and once you get out of here..." "Alright. Well, I'm sorry for what I said earlier." Now he looks serious, in fact, he doesn't even look me straight into my eyes. "Did you mean it?" I whisper, playing with the blanket with one hand, holding his with the other, my heart reaching world record in number of beats per second any moment now. "Yes." It sounds so simple when he says it, yet when I look up at him, and he lifts his gaze to mine, I know that it takes all the strength he has to say it. "Then there's no need to be sorry. I love you too, you know. I'm just so damn good at hiding my feelings and running away every time I get scared by them." I lower my eyes and continue to play with the blanket as I talk, but when I feel a weak squeeze on my hand, I look up. As I meet Mulder's gaze again, I see tears forming at the corner of his eyes. I lean in to kiss his cheek, but before reaching it, he cups my face between his strong hands. My gaze falls to his mouth. We're both narrowing the space between our faces, inch by inch. His thumbs stroke my cheeks and I recall what happened outside his apartment last summer (damn bee!!). When I hear his next words, I know he does, too. "You know how I hate to leave things unfinished?" "Yeah?" "Well, I guess this is the chance to do something about one of them." And with those words our mouths finally make contact and we both lose ourselves in this wonderful first kiss of ours. The End.