Chasing Away Nightmares
I didn't have the nightmares this morning. The ones I'd been
at the hospital were my worst nightmares, always ending in my
inability to save Scully from whatever demon was threatening her. I
would see events play out in my mind, the only alteration being that
I never got to her in time. Every time. They say that heavily
drugged people don't dream because the drugs disrupt their sleep
cycles. I must be an exception to that rule, because the nightmares
were worse than what was happening to me when I was awake, and that
wasn't all too pleasant either.
I knew that Scully was off seeking evidence without me, without
backup from me or anyone else. That itself explains why the
nightmares, though each a different case we had worked on in the past
six years, always ended the same way: I'd be too late to save her.
What if she were followed by Krycek or someone equally odious, out
for themself, playing both sides against one another? The terror
actually got worse as they decreased the amount of drugs in my
system. I dreamed more and more vividly, despite reassurances during
my few waking hours that she was alive and calling my friends
regularly. I needed tangible proof that she was alive and well, not
I had a wonderful dream yesterday. It lasted through the night
I'm still experiencing it at this very minute. I imagined that
Scully came to the hospital, put me in a car and drove me to a luxury
hotel, far from the mean streets of downtown D.C. She told me about
the spaceship she found at the archaeological dig on the Ivory Coast.
She told me that we couldn't go see it yet, that I had to rest, put
some distance between me and the psychiatric ward at Georgetown
I wanted to disobey her orders, to ditch her and fly off to the
Ivory Coast immediately. I never had a chance. Agent Scully knows
me too well. She knows I'd never bolt and run when confronted with a
truth much nearer and dearer to my heart. Literally nearer to my
heart at the moment, a living, breathing Scully doll that I only
imagined in my wildest dreams. She's still sleeping, overcome from
all the stress, anxiety, and jet lag the last few days have brought
We didn't even get to the hotel till 2 a.m. She had told me all
about the craft by the time we arrived, and I was honestly thinking
of taking off as soon as she fell asleep. That is, before we got to
the room and I found out that their was a queen bed, and no
connecting door to the next hotel room. I told her she was insane,
offering her an out if she was just doing this to prevent me from
escaping to the Ivory Coast, bad behavior all too familiar to my
Scully. She told me that her trip had reinforced her faith in God
and her love for...and her voice faltered and died before saying the
word I had hoped to hear. Luckily, I finished her thought for her,
without telepathy, extrasensory perception, or other parlor tricks.
Yeah, I can read people's thoughts now. But I'm not sure that
talent will last. It seems to be dissipating, the rubbings must be a
direct stimuli to whatever brain center controls this so-called gift.
It's not a gift if it destroys your ability to function, gathering up
every thought from every person in your immediate vicinity, then
tossing them all together and serving up a dissonant salad of
I might have been able to survive the headaches and the noise with
the right treatment. Instead, Diana came along (how did she know
where I was?) and gave me something to send me into a frenzy. I'm an
asshole for not believing Scully earlier this year. I wanted to have
just one person in my past who wasn't guilty of manipulating me for
their own private agenda, aside from my sister Sam. Well, Diana's
certainly got an agenda, and it has nothing to do with my best
If I lose this ability tomorrow, I'll still be grateful that it
showed me what a fucked-up bitch she is.
Back to my wonderful dream, one which became a reality when I
realized that Scully loved me, perhaps for as long as I have loved
her. Which would be...since her abduction for sure. Before that I
was probably resisting the attraction, unwilling to risk our
friendship for a roll in the hay. As our friendship has developed
over the years, so has my boundless love for her. I just couldn't
get the message across the usual way, beset by obstacles, bedeviled
by circumstances, thwarted by my own cowardice.
If it took getting locked up in the loony bin for several days, I
guess it was worth the trouble. I'm still crazy now, though. Crazy
in love. I study the lovely woman beside me and thank God for her
bravery, her loyalty, her breasts. Well, O.K., that last item seems
just a bit incongruous with the first two, but they are beautiful, as
is the rest of her, body and soul.
We made love for the first time this morning. Just before, when
almost sputtered out that she loved me, I was determined that it be
her call, that she could ease out of the situation if it made her
uncomfortable. But when she asked me to share just a tiny bit of
unbridled, restorative insanity with her, I was over that edge and
sliding down the precipice, whisking her along with me.
Insane, I thought, I can do insane. I've been doing a superb
imitation of it the last few days, in the real loony bin. That we
could even make light of that horrid experience is a testament to the
strength of our friendship, our partnership, our love affair. It was
worth 1001 lonely nights at home to get to the point we are now,
spooned in this beautiful bed, in this classy hotel, miles and miles
from our real lives.
I just hope we can make this last. My insecurities always kick in
as soon as I realize how damn lucky I am. If I can't sustain this
relationship, I AM the sorriest son-of-a-bitch around. Scully stirs
next to me now, finally waking up at (oh God, it's that late) one
p.m. I guess we'll just have to stay another night since we missed
checkout time. You'll hear no complaints from me.
"Wha time iz it?" she mumbles.
"Time to fool around some more," I say lightly.
"Oh, Mulder. You are insatiable," she teases back.
"I have to call
Mom and tell her how you are. She wanted to know by this morning.
Except it's now afternoon and I don't want her to worry."
I ignore her plea temporarily, taking small bites out of her neck
and rubbing my hand over her bare tummy. She responds by turning
around and flashing that beautiful and rare smile that I love, that I
know is only for me. We kiss, hands retracing paths taken during the
wee hours this morning. Scully pushes me onto my back and straddles
my hips, firmly balancing both hands on my chest. I'm beginning to
feel lucky here when she shifts slightly and grabs the cell phone
from the night stand. She smiles slyly and says, "Mom first, you
"I'll get you, my pretty," I cackle in my world's worst
the Wicked Witch from Oz.
"O.K. now, try not to distract me too much during the call,
Mulder?" I behave at first. But not for long...
"Hi, Mom...Yeah, it's late. I had jet lag I guess...Yeah, it's a
beautiful hotel, just like you said...He's fine, Mom. I don't think
I've ever seen him looking so well after a hospital stay..."
Scully grins down at me with a gleam in her eye. "Hold on,
Scully places her hand over the phone. "Stop tickling, Mulder!..."
Back to Mom. "We're staying one more night and then I'll call
when I get home, O.K.?...I love you too, Mom. Thanks for everything.
Well, Mulder, that made me feel better...now what was it you wanted
me to do earlier?"
She flashes me that sexy little smile that I have so gratefully
etched into my memory bank. "Gee, I seem to have forgotten," I
tease, reintroducing Scully to clear evidence of my need. We make
love again, simply taking pleasure in the lazy afternoon and each
other. I know for certain I'll have no nightmares tonight, for all
my fondest dreams already lie in my arms today.
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