From: "yoursmineandours5" Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2001 22:25:10 -0700 Subject: No Subject Provided Source: direct Title: What Dreams Are Made Of Author: Fyrekittin E-mail: fyrekittin@hotmail.com Classification: TRA Keyword: Spoilers: you gotta have a general notion of the x-files and the latest episodes to understand this story. Archive: anywhere as long as I know where it's goin' Disclaimer: Those guys? MINE? Ya, I dream about it, but we all know it ain't comin' true. Summary: How Scully is taking Mulder's death. She lay curled in a fetal position, her tear-streaked face hidden on her knees. He was never coming back. He was dead. Mulder was dead. She pushed a soggy strand of hair off of her cheek with the palm of her hand and gave a shaky, gasping sigh. She knew she sounded like a child, lost and forgotten, but that was exactly how she felt. Lost at sea, drifting farther and farther away from any conceivable consolance of the firm earth beneath her feet. Mulder had been her Earth- her World. He had been her everything. Her life energy, her will to go on, her reason to strive for the truth. Then when he was taken, her hope of finding him was the kindling that kept the meager fire of life glowing in her breast, but now... now she was dying. She could feel it deep inside of her breast. She felt the empire of her being crumbling into nothing as any building would when the earth is taken right out from under its foundation. Her telephone was unplugged, her door was bolted shut, and her blinds were securely drawn. She wanted to be left alone, for Doggett and Skinner to stop pounding on her doors and windows. That was all she wanted, but there went the pounding once more. That infernal racket that kept on and on, like she would open the door if they knocked enough. They could paint her door with the blood from their knuckles, she didn't care. Her whole being was smothered in the blood of her slain spirit, woefully beaten and broken. She didn't have time for them and their silly condlence. Because Mulder...he was... her fiery rage gave way to an over-whelming wave of misery sweeping over her, pulling her under even farther, drowning in her own broken heart. He backed up and rammed his whole body into the door, still shouting hoarsely. "Scully! SCULLY!" his voice rasped loudly. Another blow to the door didn't even seem to faze it. "Scully! Dana! Open the door, Dana!" Skinner shouted beside him. Dogget backed up for another run at the door when Skinner grasped his forearm and stopped him short. He looked him in the eyes and finally murmured, "You ready?" Those two words spoke volumes through his serious brown eyes. Doggett squared his jaw and nodded. "Yes, sir". Skinner nodded solemnly and backed with him. "One...two...THREE!!!" Their bodies hit the door simultaneuosly and it burst open, a small shot of wood splinters spraying the air. "Scully!" Doggett shouted, bolting for her bedroom. Once again he was held back by the older man. Without a glance at teh agent, Skinner strode to her room and paused at the doorway. It was slightly ajar and he gently nudged it with the back of his hand. It creeped open, spilling light slowly across the darkened room. "Dana?" he murmured. The shades were shut tight against the offending rays of sun, casting a dusky appearance over the room. He peered around, barely seeing the figure hidden in the bedsheets. "Dana." He moved quietly to her side and touched the bundle gently. It didn't move, so he nudged her a littel harder. That created no response, so he glanced back curiously at Doggett, watching silently in the doorway. Skinner sighed and moved to the other side of her bed then kneeled down to try to see into her face. He reached out his fingers to her buried face, pulling back a soaking strand of hair slicked to her face. "It's going to be alright, Dana," he murmured, "it's going to all turn out okay." He thought she was still motionless and was about to rise to leave when he realized that she was shaking. He lay his hand on her shoulder and she shifted, slowly raising her face to him. She was a pathetic mess with her ruddy hair sticking to her streaked face and her great, blue eyes staring imploringly out at him, rimmed red and black from her running mascara. She began to shake violently and launched herself into his arms, sobbing. He hesitated, then held her tightly and rocked gentlyback and forth, his own tears beginning to stream down his face. He backed silently out of the doorframe, feeling like an intruder on their tears and woes. He never met Mulder. He sounded like a nut-job the first time her heard about him, and the second, and the third... but when Skinner talked about him, or Langley or Byers or Frohikey, he seemed to be a great guy. And when Scully talked about him- which was rare- the look in her eyes and the curl of her lips were all that needed to convince him that not only was Mulder an outstanding guy, he had a wonderful woman here that loved him. He didn't understand why Skinner seemed edgy of the subject whenever a discussion drifted in that direction. It was obvious- obvious to him, obvious to everybody in the bureau who had ever seen them together, so it had to be obvious to Skinner who had worked with them from the beginning. He cringed at a swell of sobbing coming from Scully's room. It was probably just a tender subject. You didn't want to go up to somebody and say "Hey! Didn't you love that guy that you spent eight years of your life with who has just been found annihalated in a feild? Weren't you supposed to be, like, soulmates or something?" He sighed and ran his fingers through his ragged hair. It seemed that that kind of thing was expected from him. He wandered over to the door, shutting it while thinking. He had to stop and ponder now about his career. He had just been viewed as the guy who was filling in for Spooky Mulder, but now who was he? He could never fill Mulder's place; in the X-files, in the Bureau, and definitely not in Scully. He sighed again, staring straight ahead, wondering what to do next with Skinner and Scully striking up what he guessed as a conversation on the non-existent hope of Mulder acctually being alive. He pursed his lips, then rubbed his face vigorously and began to pace the room. On his second lap past the front door, there came a knock. He paused, a knock came again, so he leaned into the door and peered through the peephole. His lungs let out a whoosh of air, his whole body sagging into the door as the last scientific certainty he had was cast from his mind. He reached for the door knob, and weakly tugged it open to a haggard and wild looking Mulder. "Where's Scully?" he croaked, his voice catching on syllables. He had to go. Go and get to her and just be there, there with her again. He needed to be there with her again. And now he was here, looking into the submissive face of Doggett. He looked like a beaten puppy as he veiwed Mulder's weakly swaying figure. "Where's Scully?" he repeated, afraid his voice would give out. He felt the blackness washing up over him and he sunk, almost landing on his knees. Doggett's strong arms were supporting ihm, guiding him over to the couch. "No," he refused weakly, pushing Doggett's arm away and heading shakily for Scully's room. He paused in the doorway, looking down at Skinner and Scully, backs to him, quietly conversing over something... over him. Scully was so frail and weak beside the beaten man, and she collapsed against his shoulder, sobbing. He didn't want her to cry. God, he would get himself killed again if it would make her stop crying like that. But the knew what she needed to stop crying. He opened his mouth, but words couldn't come in the struggle to keep back his own sobs. His throat wheezed slightly, and he finally got out a weak whisper. "Scully?" Neither could hear him over her sobs. "Scully," he repeated, trying to make his voice stronger. Her crying subdued into hiccupping sniffles. He took a deep breath and said in a broken, quavering rasp, "Scully?" She froze. He hoped that she wouldn't start crying again- his voice was shot and he didn't think he could handle another second standing there, watching her in so much pain over him... he felt relief and anticipation roll over him as she began to turn. When her eyes fell upon him, her breath hitched in her throat and for a split second they stood staring into eachothers eyes. She looked so tired and broken, sitting there in her gray cotton pajamas. The moment was broken and she stumbled over her bed and threw herself into his arms, her sobbing increased three-fold. He leaned against the doorframe for support and clutched her to him tightly, closing his eyes and revering in the moment he had dreamnt about all of those long tortureous hours on the ship. She was warm and planted firmly up against him and he couldn't remeber when he had ever been happier. He mouthed her name over and over, kissing the top of her head and holding her even tighter. He opened his eyes to those of Skinner, whose hand planted firmly on his shoulder in greeting, then her was suddenly enveloped in his boss' arms, too. Skinner quickly released him, and gave a firm nod and shake before he had to turn away with the threat of tears over coming him. Mulder smiled to himself and wrapped his arms around Scully's shoulders. She led him into the living room where they were greeted by her softly closing front door. He looked into her eyes, loving her more than ever. Her face grew blank and she abruptly sat down. He saw the question of how enter and leave her mind in a split second. He kneeled before her and lay his head in her lap, closin his eyes and revering in the soft closeness of her. She ran her fingers through his hair and around his ear and he sighed, happy to be home once more. "Mulder," she said, looking down at him. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers. "Don't speak... don't worry your vocal cords, they've been under alot of stress-" a small squeeze on her leg silenced and agreed with her, so she continued, "but... God, Mulder... I love you." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I can't go any longer without telling you. I love you more than I ever thought possible. And this is the last time where your life has to be what brings me closer to my confessions. I love you and I need you, Mulder. Forever and Always." He took her hands in his and gently tugged at them, guiding her to the floor. When she was finally kneeling before him, he stroked a piece of wet hair out of her face, then bent over and kissed her, tasting the salt from her tears on her lips. She touched his face, tracing along his jawline and down his neck. She was so real and alive under his lips, the smell and taste and very essence of her sent his mind reeling as he pressed into her. When they broke their kiss he sat back and saw she was looking at him with complete reverence in her blue eyes. She gazed at him a second longer, then pulled him into another embrace, burying her face into his neck. His lips brushed her ear, the warmth of his breath sending tingles through her body. "This is what dreams are made of," he breathed into her ear. She sat back, watching as her finger traces his lower lip and nodding slowly. He smiled his first smile in a long, long time and took her face into his very capable hands, kissing her again.