Singing in My Sleep

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Disclaimer: All characters belong to Chris Carter and are being used for non-profit entertainment only. Song lyrics to "Singing in My Sleep" belong to Semisonic.

Note: All words in italics are thoughts and all words in <> are song lyrics.

Singing in My Sleep

By Arial Dagger

The room was dark, darker than midnight, darker than the depths of the ocean, darker then evil. There was only darkness and he felt as though he had been thrown into a pit of the mysterious black oil, that strange and alien goo that came from the bottom of the sea. But only when the light from the window hit him and he heard his sister’s cries for help ringing through the still air, did he scream.

Fox Mulder’s eyes snapped open and his screams died in the thick air of his apartment. Breath ragged, eyes flickering here and there as they examined the apartment and then scanned it again and again, he reached the for the liquor bottle that was sitting on his coffee table. Slowly he lifted it to his mouth only to discover that it was empty. Cursing under his breath, Mulder threw the empty bottle into one of the dark corners of his apartment and sat, shaken and afraid, on his couch.

With a hollow moan, he brushed a hand through his dark brown hair and began to reach out towards the phone. I’ll call her, he thought. I’ll tell her that the dreams are back again. I’ll call her... But just as his fingers were brushing the phone, Mulder turned on the light instead.

I have no right to wake her, his mind screamed as dull illumination flooded over the objects in the small room. I have no right to wake her.

In the darkness of a side street, a woman was running. Her red hair kept whipping around in the wind, getting in her eyes, blocking her vision. Yet she kept on running.

The footsteps behind her grew louder and faster. Now she could almost see the smoke billowing up and the sound of his honeyed voice. Clip, clip, clip, and then a ring of smoke.

One of her feet hit something slick and she was falling, falling down, hitting the ground. In her vain attempts to stand, regain her footing, get away, she twisted her ankle. Finally she lay, helpless on the ground, gazing up as the man in the shadows stepped into her line of vision.

Cancerman stood there, pulling long drags on his cigarette and then letting the smoke drift up and away. A blood-chilling smile danced over his lined face as he drew a vial from his coat pocket.

Then the aliens were carrying her away.

Dana Scully woke with tears running down her face and the various sheets and covers kicked off her bed and unto the floor below. As she pulled into a ball on the middle of the bed, she knew that she wasn’t shaking because she was cold. Just another of her nightmares coming back to haunt her. But at least this one wasn’t about Mulder, thank God.

The first thing Scully did was reach out and turn the bedside lamp on. Light streamed across the bedroom, gleaming off satin this and silk that, making her room seem more like a glacier than a place of sleep. That was just the way she liked it, though. A bright room, full of light, light to chase the shadows away, to chase the nightmares and the dreams away.

As her breathing began to slowly get back to normal, her fingers involuntarily wrapped around the gold cross sitting in the hollow of her throat. Her faith. The one thing she had left, besides Mulder.

Mulder, the thought of him stopped her.

Maybe I should call him, Scully thought as she got up and put the covers back on the bed. No. What if he’s asleep? He sleeps so little...I’d hate to wake him.

With a sigh she pulled on her bathrobe, breezed past the phone, and settled into the kitchen, placing the teapot on the stove to warm.

Somehow, Mulder had gotten himself into the car without realizing it and was cruising through the empty streets...on his way to Scully’s apartment. Every once in a while a stray car would drift along the roads, headlights blazing, destroying the calm, perfect night. Mulder’s mind was almost past seeing them and to him the cars became fireflies dancing in the pre-dawn darkness.

What am I doing? he thought. The question soon faded away into the recesses of his mind to become a little buzz that no longer bother him and never would again.

Scully was just sitting down to sip her cup of Chamomile tea when there was a knock on her door. Mulder, she thought as she got up and crossed the room, got to be Mulder.

He stood there staring at nothing as she opened the door. His hazel eyes, so cloud and frightened and filled with tears, didn't even seem to see her or anything else for that fact. Strands of his dark brown hair were sticking this way and that, as though he had just gotten up. But it was the look on his face that stopped Scully cold in her tracks. She had never seen him look like that before, so lost and forlorn, so…hurt.

Before she knew what she was doing, Scully had grabbed his arm and was tugging him inside her apartment, steering him to sit on the couch, and putting a cup of tea in his hand. Mulder just sat there for a moment, eyes wandering around the room, looking for something familiar. Finally, they settled on Scully.

"Hello, Scully," he breathed out in a hushed tone. "I was just thinking about calling you."

"How’d you get from calling me to driving over to my apartment in the middle of the night?" she asked, watching him carefully as she poured herself another cup of tea.

Instead of answering Mulder just shrugged, tears flowing from the corners of his hazel eyes to cascade silently down his cheeks.

"What's wrong, Mulder?" Scully inquired as she sat her cup of tea down and sat next to him. She wanted to reach out, hug him, hold him, and tell him that everything would be fine. Something was holding her back, keeping her arms from reaching for him and her fingers from running through his hair.

"I…I," he stuttered, his voice turning into such a still whisper in the night.

The spell was broken when he looked at her again. Mulder's eyes, turned liquid hazel by the tears, touched her soul, spoke to her, called to her, and before she knew it, Scully had moved to his side and had wrapped her arms tightly around him.

"There, there, it's okay. It's okay," Scully murmured as she ran her fingers over his back in a soothing manner and felt his tears fall on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Through his tears, and the choking sobs that were threatening to consume him, Mulder was able to choke out, "I had another nightmare…about Samantha."

"It's okay, Mulder. It's okay," she told him, still hugging him tightly but, at the mention of nightmares, tears began to fill her own eyes.

Mulder heard the catch in Scully's voice and could not keep himself from looking up to see what was the matter. Unshed tears shone like dewdrops in her intense blue eyes and an emotion very close to fear had plastered itself about her face.

Now he felt bad for coming here and getting her involved in his problems. He felt like a jerk for not making sure she was alright because, now that he paid attention to her, it was clear that she was upset.

Slowly, he pulled away from her embrace and sat back, leaning against the arm of the couch and looking intently at her. "What's wrong, Scully?" he inquired, reaching a hand out to brush a lose strand of red hair away from her face.

She wouldn't look at him and instead kept her eyes on the calm surface of the Chamomile tea that was sitting on her coffee table.

"Scully, what's wrong?" Mulder insisted more fiercely, reaching a hand out to tip her chin up so that their eyes locked.

The tears that had been forming in the corners of her round blue eyes were now trickling down her pale skin. "Nothing, Mulder. I'm fine."

"I don't want to hear you say that, Scully," he exclaimed. "I want the truth."

Scully almost giggled at his words although this wasn't exactly a funny moment. Mulder and his ever-elusive quest for the truth. But the moisture on her face and the pleading eyes turned on her, how could see do anything else but break down and tell him, tell him everything, tell him the truth.

"Well," Mulder pushed; gazing at her, tears still clinging to his hazel eyes and his dark brown hair still mussed.

"I…had a nightmare. It woke me up. That's why I was awake when you knocked on the door," she finally admitted.

By now, something seemed to have stilled in Mulder's heart. It no longer mattered what had happened to him, what had scared him. The only thing that touched him, the only thing that could touch him, was what Scully thought and what Scully felt and what Scully was afraid of.

"What was it about?" he questioned when he had found the voice again to speak.

The intense blue eyes flickered away from his face, lingered on the tea, and then focused back on him just as she whispered, "Cancerman. I was running from him. I just kept running. But he was always there, around every corner I turned, always in front of me. And, in the end, he let them have me again. He gave me back to the aliens."

Scully hung her head, letting the round tears drip off her nose and down her neck. Then she was sobbing as Mulder wrapped her in his arms, not whispering, not murmuring words of comfort, but quietly singing, sweetly singing. Singing to her, even as she fell asleep, as she had done once, many years ago, for him.

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