From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2000 04:30:06 -0600 Subject: Then What of Our Nightmares? 1/? by Kelly Moreland Source: direct Reply To: k_a_moreland@hotmail.com Title : Then What of Our Nightmares? 1/? Author : Kelly Moreland Archive :Anywhere, just let me know. Spoilers : None really.. Rating : NC-17 for disturbing images. Category : SAngst/MT Summary : Post Colonization.. It's gritty. Be warned. Feedback : is what keeps me writing. k_a_moreland@hotmail.com Disclaimer : In the big inning, CC created M & S, and the fans saw that it was good. Then CC proclaimed 'Let them have any fun, and I will sue you!' And the fans saw that this was bad, and did it anyway! ;-) Authors note : And if sometimes dreams come true, then what of our nightmares? -- Thanks to Jemirah! Don't know what I'd do witout ya! Then what of our nightmares? by Kelly Moreland I weep at night. Everyone pretends they don't notice, but they do. I appreciate the pretending though. Skinner can always tell. He never says a word, not even in private, but his eyes tell me he knows. They also tell me not to give up hope. Hope endures, he once told me. I laughed and said the only reason hope had survived, was because the human race hasn't figured out how to kill it yet. He didn't find that funny. I've grown cynical over the past two years. Cynical and bitter. But who wouldn't? Two years, four months, and nineteen days. That's when the world stopped. That's when *they* came. If I had to do it all over again... I would have never left him. I wouldn't have let myself be lead away, even at his insistence. I would have stayed by his side and fought. If he fought. The problem is not knowing. We never found Mulder's body. We don't know that he's dead. My heart tells me he's alive. I want to believe. Frohike, Byers, and Langly pulled, no, dragged me away from Mulder's apartment that night. He said he'd join us. He never did. Langly and Frohike snuck back to his apartment once, they said it was a wreck. No blood though. No body. I can't imagine *they* would take time to bury him. So I hang on to that one small fact. Mulder's alive. He has to be. Somewhere. We're a nomadic group now. We have a caravan of thirty six people. We've established nine safe houses to date. We have a stockpile of weapons any third world country would envy. Well, would have envied. We blow those green, oozing sons of bitches straight to hell every chance we get. I've come to enjoy it. More than any good doctor should. Skinner is our fearless leader. He won't admit it, but he's happy in that position. Once a marine, always a marine. Frohike is his second in command. They've formed a friendship that is amusing and baffling at the same time. If I wasn't absolutely sure of their sexual orientation, I'd really have to wonder about them. Right now, they sit hunched over opposite sides of a chess board. Their only conversation is occasional grunts, snorts, or chuckles. And they understand each other perfectly. That's really frightening. Mulder would laugh till he hurt himself over it. I wish he were here. Every installation we get a lead on, every one we stumble across, we look for him. For any sign of him. We've found four others, but not him. Not yet. Hope endures. Even if I don't think I will endure, my hope does. Tomorrow we hit the 'alleged' installation in Athens, Georgia. Another day, another chance. I hope, and I pray. I have to believe. -DKS, 2/26/04 "Report." Skinner calls out to us. He gave up trying to keep me out of things a long time ago. My will is as strong as his. I won't be protected by him, or any of them. "Section A, clear." I hear Byers call over the headset. "Section B, clear." I answer. There is a long pause. "Section C calling for secured channel!" Langly sounds panicked, he's practically screaming. His call for a secured channel alerts me immediately. Something is up. I pull out my map, and track the quickest route to his check-in point. I might not have known Langly's designated secure channel, but I did know his check-in location. Five minutes later, I'm there. He's standing outside a doorway with Skinner and Frohike. When Skinner steps in front of me, blocking my path, I know something is wrong. "What is it?" I ask him. "Dana. Go back to your post." He continually sidesteps, keeping me from the doorway. Frohike steps up. "Go back Scully. Please." His face is grim. Suddenly I know, and I go berserk. I fight against both of them, and I'm not fair about it. Skinner might never reproduce, by the time I break from his hold. Langly wisely decides to keep clear. I pull up short at the door, and there he is. It's Mulder. His hair is long and shaggy. His naked body thin to the point of emaciation. He's huddled against the far wall in this stark, bare room, his cheek pressed flat against it. "Mulder!" I feel faint. My heart is pounding as I run to him. I lay my hand on his shoulder, and he screams as if I've burned him. I recoil in shock. I catch a glimpse of his face then. There is no recognition in his eyes. He doesn't know me. I slowly move around into his field of vision. He back peddles away from me in a crouch. "Jesus Mulder." I'm crying in shock and horror. "What have they done to you?" He looks at me with the feral eyes of a rabid animal. He makes no sound. Just watches me wearily. I slowly extend my left hand to him again, and sinks his teeth into it, just below my pinky. I gasp, but don't cry out. I can feel his teeth deep in my flesh. It's excruciating. Skinner is suddenly beside me. "Mulder!" He bellows so loudly that it makes my ears ring, but Mulder lets go of my hand and backs into the corner. His eyes roll wildly around the room. "Goddamn it!" Skinner mutters, wrapping a bandanna around my bleeding hand. "He's completely mad." Langly mutters sadly. Frohike steps a few feet from Mulder. "Mulder? Hey buddy?" He smiles jovially. "It's OK. You're safe now." Mulder's eyes roll toward the sound of his voice, and his teeth, still covered in my blood, gnash angrily. Frohike steps back. "He doesn't know any of us." I say, cradling my hand to my chest. "Everybody back out. Give him some space." I strengthen my voice, making it an order. "It's not safe for you to be in here alone Dana." Skinner objects. "It's Mulder. Try to take me from this room, and one of us will be seriously hurt." The threat is genuine, and he recognizes it. "We'll leave the door open. Yell. We'll be in here if you do." I nod. "Have someone set my pack inside the door." He grunts, and I take that as a yes. Before he turns to leave, I unsling my carbine and hand it to him. Along with my back up pistol. He doesn't like it, but he takes them with him. Mulders eyes watch me as I move in front of him. He suddenly flattens himself against the wall again. Hugging tightly against it. "Mulder, you're the psychologist here. What would you do?" I speak softly to him. I don't think my words even register in his mind. I hope my voice does at least. I see Frohike out of the corner of my eye, setting my pack in the door as I asked. I back all the way to the other corner, then move along the wall to my pack. I get out my canteen, a couple of power bars. I retrace my path back to him, keeping myself a few feet away from him. I very slowly set down the canteen, and the bars. I nudge them along the wall an inch at a time. His eyes flit between my approaching hand, and the food and water. My arm is out as far as I can extend it. I shift slightly, his wild eyes settle on me. I hear a low growl rumbling in his chest. I use my foot to nudge them closer to where he is. When I can reach no further, I back up a couple of feet, and stay still. He's hungry. He's lost at least forty pounds since the last time I saw him. My throat closes as I remember that night. This is the same man who kissed me. Who said, "Go Scully, so I know you're safe. I'll be there soon. I will find you." He's moving. So slow it's almost imperceptible. He lunges forward and grabs the canteen, then backs into his corner again. As I watch him struggle with the top, I wish I'd thought to uncap it. He actually bites it with his teeth, twisting it with his hands to open it. I notice his gnarled, crooked fingers. "Oh Mulder." I'm crying again. I can't help it. Two of his fingers have been broken, and not set. They've healed badly. He suddenly looks at me as I speak. For a moment I think I see a glimmer in his eyes, but then it's gone. He upends the canteen, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. The distrust I see breaks my heart. Trust was the only thing we had for so long. Now we don't even have that. He drains the canteen in huge gulps. "Easy Mulder. You'll make yourself sick." I whisper to him. He doesn't even spare me a glance. He clutches the empty canteen to his chest and takes the offered food. Again he uses his teeth to open the wrappers, and wolfs them down greedily. As he swallows, I watch his Adams apple bob. I can count every rib on his sides. I can see scars crisscrossing his arms and his back. To say he's been through hell would be the understatement of the century. His knees are huge knobs in the middle of his thin legs. His arms are stringy, wiry at best. "Dana?" I hear Skinner call from the doorway. I turn slightly to look at him from the corner of my eye. "We're setting up camp. We'll stay here till he's ready to travel." He keeps his voice quiet. I nod at him. When I look back, Mulder nods at me. I don't know if it is a genuine gesture, or simply mimicry of my behavior. His eyes are locked on me. But I still can't be sure if he recognizes me. I gingerly stretch out my arm, inching my fingers along the wall, to test my theory. He does the same. His palm flattens against the cold concrete wall, and his fingers inch toward mine. When our fingertips touch, tears spill from my eyes again. "There you are." I whisper to him, smiling slightly. This he doesn't mimic, but his eyes are focused on mine for a moment. Then they glaze over again, as distant as the stars. "Talk to me Mulder." I whisper softly. "I need to hear your voice." He just looks at me, not exactly a blank look, but not very far from it. My hand is throbbing, I know I need to disinfect it, so I creep over to my pack. I take out a bottle of betadine, and pop it open. Mulder begins to scream. I stare at him, dumbfounded. The empty canteen thumps the wall, an inch from where I am. He's wild eyed and flailing in the corner. The doorway is filled by Skinner, Frohike, Langly, and now Byers. "What is it? What happened?" They all yell in unison. This makes Mulder even worse. His screams turn in to howls of outright terror. "Get out!" I yell at them collectively. They drift from the doorway quietly. I pour the betadine over my hand quickly and re-bandage it. As soon as the bottle disappears he stops. The silence is deafening by comparison. Any progress I actually made with him is gone. I can tell that as I crawl back over to the wall, and he scoots away from me again. I cover my mouth with my good hand, and break down. Mulder, what happened to you? I wonder silently. How do I reach you? How do I get you back? He still huddles in his corner, his arms wrapped around his bony knees. Watching me with baleful eyes. When my tears run their course, I sigh and start all over again. I get as close to him as I can, without a violent reaction, and then just stay there. It's all I know to do. I lean my head against the wall and watch him, watching me. A couple of hours later, Byers comes in with a fresh canteen, and two plates of food. "Eat, Scully." He whispers to me, setting them by the door. He looks at Mulder, studying him for a few minutes. "Christ, look at him. PTSD?" He whispers, as I creep my way over to him. Mulder has settled into his corner, seeming to relax a bit. I don't want anything to disturb that. He still watches us closely. "Outright torture, by the look of it." I whisper back. I pick up the plates of stew, and realize I'm starving. It smells like rabbit, something I've learned to love the past couple of years. I crawl back to my corner, opposite of Mulder. Byers quietly backs out the door, leaving us alone. I'm halfway through my dinner, when I realize I'm being watched intently. Mulder is sniffing the air, scenting it like a dog, or a coyote would. "I'm not bringing it to you this time." I tell him. "You have to come get it." I point to the plate sitting next to me. I see him lick his lips. I know he's starving still, and though it may seem cruel, I have to reach him somehow. Maybe food is a start. It worked a little before. His wild eyes flit between me and the plate. "You used to trust me. You also used to eat with me. All the time. Do you remember?" I've slowed down now, savoring each bite. Making a show of it. I hear his stomach growl from across the room. "C'mon Mulder. It's good." I can see the hollows of his flanks, as he moves forward, crawling across the floor on his hands and knees. He reaches the plate, and forgoes the spoon entirely, cramming the meat and vegetables into his mouth quickly. This is the closest he's been to me yet. To my surprise, he didn't grab the plate and dash away with it. He's eating from it where it sits, not six inches from my hip. I could reach out and run my hand along his knobby spine, and as much as I ache to touch him, I don't dare. I carefully remove the lid from the canteen, and take a long drink from it. He's finished his plate, even licked it clean. I slowly hold the canteen out to him, and with a wariness that hurts my soul, he cautiously takes it from my hand. He drinks from it, keeping one eye on me the entire time, ready for something bad to happen. When nothing does, he pushes it toward me, his hands trembling slightly. I keep my movements agonizingly slow, and accept it. "Why don't you stay here with me a while?" I set my empty plate on the floor, speaking softly. His eyes are actually searching mine now. I say nothing else, waiting for his reaction. He slowly sinks to the floor, curling up tight, his back against the wall. He's so close, it's all I can do not to reach out and touch him. I dig my fingernails into my palms, to fight the urge. Within minutes he's asleep, breathing evenly. I don't know if it's from a thread of trust, or pure exhaustion, but he's sleeping next to me. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get. Once I'm sure he won't wake, I move slowly to the door, carrying the two empty plates. Skinner and the Gunmen are just outside, along with a couple of others. I walk out the door, and breathe a heavy sigh. Langly takes the plates from my hand, as I sit down heavily on a camp stool there in the hallway. "Do you think he'll be all right?" Frohike asks, breaking the heavy silence. "I don't know. He's been through shit, I don't even want to imagine. I don't think he even recognizes me. But he's making a little progress." "Progress how?" Skinner asks, holding out a cup of coffee to her. I take the cup with a grateful smile. "Well, after he ate, he fell asleep next to me. I take that as a good sign." "Has he told you anything at all?" Byers asked, his face pensive with concern for his friend. "He hasn't said a word. If it wasn't for the screaming, I'd wonder if he'd been rendered mute." I laugh without humor. "He looks like a concentration camp survivor." Langly grimaced. "He's severely malnourished." I kept my feelings masked in front of them. I wasn't about to let anyone see me fall apart. No matter how bad it hurt to look at Mulder. No matter how badly I ached for his suffering. Before anyone could ask anymore questions, or voice anymore comments, I stood up and grabbed my sleeping bag. "Where are you going?" Skinner asked, eyeing me with a frown. "To sleep. I'm tired, my hand hurts, and I.." "You can't be serious." He cut me off, realizing what I intended. "Watch me." I replied, walking back into the room where Mulder still slept. As carefully as I could, I spread my sleeping bag out next to him. Two years, four months, and twenty days. I wasn't about to let him out of my sight now. I still had to fight to keep from touching him. He looked so pale and weak, laying on that bare cement floor. The bastards could have at least given him a cot. I dozed after a while. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "SCULLY!" I leapt to my feet, grabbing for my pistol which wasn't there. I was in the dark, and someone was screaming for me. It sounded like Mulder. A scuffle and a barrage of curses came from the hallway. Light spilled into the room, from a lantern that someone held. It was Mulder, I saw him huddled on the floor, thrashing and crying out for me. It froze my heart in my chest. "SCULLY!" I didn't hesitate this time. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him across my lap. "I'm here. I'm here Mulder. It's all right." He stilled instantly. I waited for the screams and the recoil. They didn't come. He shivered on my lap, his despairingly thin body curled double. The hard planes and angles of his form dug into my flesh, almost as sharply as his teeth had. "Shhh." I whispered to him. "It's OK. You are safe Mulder. I'm here. Skinner is here. The Gunmen are here too. No one will hurt you ever again. I swear it." My voice cracked with the weight of my emotions. I had never meant anything more in my life. "Promise." It was so soft, I thought I'd imagined it. I felt his hand grip my thigh. "Promise?" It was clearer this time, but it was unmistakably Mulder. "I swear it." I cried, my tears spilling over him. "I swear it." He looked up at me then. His eyes clear, even in the gloom. He sees me, and he *knows* me. "How long?" He croaks, his voice a bit louder. "Too long." I don't even try to stop the tears. He lays his head down on my thigh, shivering slightly. "Hey?" I call softly to him. He raises his head. "Let's get you off this floor." I smile, it's genuine. It's the first real smile I've had in a long time. He nods slowly, and I scoot out from under him. I unzip the sleeping bag, laying it flat across the floor. He lays down on one side, and as soon as I lie down on the other, he curls close to me. I can feel his bony knees pressing against my hip. "Am I dreaming?" He asks, each time he speaks, his voice grows a bit stronger. "Not unless I am too." I roll to my side, facing him, and smile again. "If I am, I hope I never wake up." "Shhh. It's okay." I reach out slowly to touch him and he backs away screaming. Oh god. Not again. "It's just me Mulder." I hear Skinners voice behind me. "It's OK. I just brought you two a blanket. That's all." Skinner is backing away slowly, having dropped the blanket on the floor next to us. Mulder has quieted, but his breathing is ragged and panicked. "It's just Skinner." I whisper to him, picking up the blanket. "Come on. Let's go back to sleep. It's all right." It takes a few minutes, but he crawls back over to the spread-out sleeping bag. He lays down again, watching the door. I cover us up, and pull him close to me. He shivers at my touch, but allows it. I think I need the contact even more than he does. I smooth his long hair, and stroke the back of his head, but it's a long time before he sleeps again. End part 1 Then What of Our Nightmares? (2/3) by Kelly Moreland I woke up cold that morning, because Mulder had stolen the blanket. He sat with it wrapped tightly around him, his back to me. "How are you this morning?" I spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. "I don't have any clothes. I need some clothes Scully." His voice was still a shadow of what I remember, but it sounded wonderful to my ears. "We'll get you some clothes. First thing this morning. OK?" I sat up and touched his shoulder. He flinched, not once but three or four times in succession. It was almost as bad as if he'd pulled away. I took a deep breath and told myself not to expect too much, too soon. I still had no idea what he'd been through. "I'll go see what I can find." I stood up, a little concerned that he wouldn't look at me. Too bad, I thought. Time to push the issue a little. I walked around and knealt in front of him. He averted his eyes from me. Staring at the wall instead. His face looked gaunt, I hadn't noticed it last night. His cheek bones stood out grotesquely, his skin a sallow, yellowish color. I wondered when he'd last seen the sun. "I'll be back. I'll bring you some breakfast too, OK?" He nodded, still not looking at me. I left him alone this time. The hallway was empty, but the sleeping bags and other gear gave evidence to the fact that at least two people had slept out there last night. I knew it was Skinner and Frohike. They watched over me as much as possible. It was endearing and annoying at the same time. I found them in one of the long corridors that ran east to west in the building. It was a psychiatric facility, or had been at one time. The hallway where they were had been converted into a mess hall. Everyone in our group was making the most of the break in travel. There was a low din of laughter, conversation, and even music. Frohike and Skinner were engaged in their on-going chess war. "How is he this morning?" Frohike asked. "Not great, but better than he was." I shrugged. "We saved breakfast for both of you." Byers sat down next to me at the table. "Thanks." I smiled at him. Byers had become a source of wonder to me. Over the last two years, through all we had seen, and all we had been forced to do, I'd only seen his calm demeanor break once. And his hadn't been the only one to break in that circumstance. We had found twenty children at one of the installations *they* held. For whatever reason, all of them been crudely lobotomized. Shaved heads and blank staring eyes. None of them older than eight, I'd guessed. We couldn't care for them. We couldn't leave them to starve. We couldn't do anything for them, so we made a grim decision. Byers had carried it out. He'd gently put a patch on each child's arm. Morphine, six hundred milligrams per patch. They went to sleep an hour later, and never woke up. But he'd cried his own tears for many nights after that. Sometimes true strength comes from the most unlikely places. "I need some clothes that will fit him." I spoke, breaking myself from my reverie. "Well that lets me out." Frohike laughed. "He can probably wear some of mine." Langly said from behind me. "They might be a little loose though." "That'll be great." I nodded. "When do you think we'll be able to talk to him?" Skinner asked. "I don't think today would be good." I remembered the way he wouldn't face me. "It's going to take a while. He's been through a lot." I felt ridiculous, stating the obvious, but it was also the truth. I got up and fixed two plates. Oatmeal, toast, and coffee. Langly donated a pair of sweats and a tee shirt, which I slung over my shoulder. I went back to Mulder's room. "Hungry?" I ask, noticing that he hasn't moved from his position. "Yeah." His voice is still ragged. I cross the room to him. "Got you some clothes, compliments of one Ringo Langly." I'm hoping for a smile, but I'm disappointed. He reaches for the clothes, ignoring the food for the moment. He turns his back to me again, and drops the blanket. As he slips into the sweats, I'm struck again by how rail thin he is. When he bends over, I can clearly see every vertebrae in his spine. He has absolutely no body fat, and next to no muscle tone. If it weren't for his face, and the scars I knew so well, I wouldn't have believed it was him. Miraculously, the clothes fit. Shoes we'll have to worry about later. At least for now he's dressed. He sits back down in front of me, still avoiding my face. I hand him a plate. At least this time he uses the spoon. I let him eat in silence for a minute, his gaze held fast to his plate. "All right Mulder. Enough of this. Why won't you look at me?" I finally ask, out of frustration. "I don't want to see pity." He mumbles back. "You won't. You didn't last night, did you?" "It was dark last night. It's not dark now." "You might see a lot of things, relief will definitely be one of them. But I promise you, won't see pity." I hope my words reach him. They do, and he faces me for the first time that day. His eyes search mine, and I don't try to mask any emotion I feel. It soothes him, I think. "Hi." He says it with absolute innocence. As if we'd just bumped into each other on the street. Not as though we'd just spent a night sleeping curled up together, after being apart for over two years. It surprises me into a smile. "Hi Yourself." He does it then. He breaks into a smile. The 'ok, I know I've just done something really stupid', smile. I can't remember the last time I saw it. It was a lifetime ago. We eat the rest of our breakfast in a companionable silence. When we are done, he scoots over next to me. Leaning back against the wall like I am. His hand reaches for mine, and I hold it gently. It's the hand of an eighty year old man. It trembles slightly in my grasp, and his skin feels as thin as tissue paper. "Mulder, when was the last time you were out of this room?" I ask after a few minutes have passed. His face darkens, making me regret the question. "I've never been out of this room. Not since the first time they put me in it." "The door has been open since we found you, but you've never tried to leave." He doesn't answer for so long, that I begin to think he won't. "I don't know what's out there." His voice is down to a low whisper again. "Your friends are out there. People that would like to see you. To talk to you, to know that you're ok." "I don't want anyone to see me." He looks down at his legs, stretched out in front of him. "Not like this. I don't even like you seeing me right now." "It doesn't matter to any of us what you look like." I point out. "Do you know how good it is to just see you? To know that you are alive?" He looks at me. Not just a glance, but looks me over from head to toe. "Don't let them see me yet, Scully, ok?" His voice wavers. "Not yet. I'm not ready." "OK. Another day then. Skinner won't move us out till you are ready to travel. That might be a few days." "Skinner." He says his name with a mixture of nostalgia, remorse, and even fear. "He wants to talk to you. He asked about you a few minutes ago." "He brought in the blanket last night." His voice held realization. "I thought I'd dreamed it." "No. He's here. He's the leader of our resistance." "You're hurting them bad." "Yeah, how did you know?" "I heard a few things." He looks distant again, his eyes clouded. "Anything we should know?" His head turns, and his eyes focus on me. "I can't go with you." His voice is sad beyond reason. "What? Why not?" I sputter in surprise. He doesn't speak, he takes my hand and places it to the back of his neck, underneath his hair. I feel a small scar marring his skin. It soft and pliable, it's not an old scar. I'm on my knees in an instant, and he bends forward to let me look at it. "Oh God." I gasp. "They weren't real careful about anesthesia. I woke up during that one, and a few others. I think it's a tag, or a marker. Maybe a tracking device." "We have to find out." "I know." He says simply. "Mulder, what else did they do to you?" He shakes his head repeatedly, but says nothing. "Did they rape you?" Just asking the question makes my stomach knot. "Not like you are thinking. But they did things." His eyes are haunted by memories. The weight of his words drag me down into despair. I pull him to me as I start to cry, and he welcomes my embrace. I feel his arms encircle me. His lips press against my shoulder, and I kiss the top of his head in return. We hold each other for a long time. It's not the first time we've cried together. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ I looked at the small chip in my hand. It wasn't exactly the same as the one we'd found in my neck, but I feared the consequences of removing it. For that reason I'd kept it. I'd removed it just this morning, the third day. Mulder was paranoid about being put to sleep, so I gave him a local anesthetic and took it out. I was afraid to do it, as weakened as he is, but he insisted. "They've taken enough of me. I won't be anyone's puppet, or lapdog, or spy. I don't even know who I am anymore Scully. I'm almost afraid to find out. I can't try to be me, if they are under my skin." "Mulder, what happens if taking it out gives you cancer, like it did me?" I couldn't stand the thought of anything else happening to him now. He'd been through so much already. "I'll take that chance. If it does, you can put it back in." I eventually gave in to him. The Gunmen had gone over it as thoroughly as they could, but couldn't determine exactly what it's purpose was. It didn't appear to be a transmitter, and it didn't appear to be the same as mine. It was still a mystery. I placed it carefully in glass vial, and stored it in my medical bag. He was starting to look better. We'd walk the hallway sometimes, as long as I made sure no one was around. He still refused to talk to or see anyone but me. He tired very easily, but he was trying to regain his strength. He still wouldn't talk about what they'd done to him. All I could do was give him time. I cut his hair. He insisted on it. I secretly liked it, but did as he asked. I have to admit that he looked more like himself afterward. I also talked him into moving to a different room. One a little closer to the rest of the group. Skinner and the guys found a couple of beds, a table and chairs to go in it. It was a lot more comfortable than the bare, cell-like one he'd been in. Frohike got tired of waiting, and appeared in the doorway on the fifth morning. He didn't cross the threshold, but waited to be noticed. "Mulder." I said softly, laying my hand over his. We'd been playing cards. He looked at me and followed my gaze. "Brought you a couple of presents buddy." Frohike said, still not coming into the room. He had both hands behind his back. He sat down a pair of sneakers. Mulder looked tense, but nodded his thanks. I walked over and picked them up. They were even his favorite brand name. "And this." He held up a basketball, grinning. Mulder actually smiled. He held his hands out, and Frohike tossed it to him. He caught easily, and stared at it for a few minutes, still smiling. "Thanks Frohike." "Good to have you back Mulder." He left it at that, and walked away quietly. Melvin Frohike was a lot smarter than he looked. "Hey Scully, think I can find a hoop around here somewhere?" He was Mulder again, at least for this moment. I relished it. "I'm sure we could rig up something. I don't think you are up to the play-offs yet though." "A man's gotta have goals." He arched an eyebrow at me. "Bad pun. Bad pun." I scolded. He laughed openly. It was a beautiful sight. His face was filling out, and his color was not that sickening yellow from the first day. He was getting better, but slowly. That night as we got into our beds, something happened. He began to talk. The lights were out, and there was no sound other than his voice. I propped on my elbow and listened, afraid to say anything and interrupt him. "Scully. I'm not sorry I made you leave that night." He began. "I would do it all again, the exact same way. They got me coming out of my apartment, about an hour after you had left with the guys. I was in a hurry, I wasn't paying attention. I didn't see them till they tackled me. They didn't bring me here first. I was somewhere else for a while. I don't know where. I know I was drugged a lot. I'd wake up groggy and disoriented. Something they were putting in my food. When they came and took me to the exam room, I was usually awake." He laughed harshly. "I wish they'd have drugged me for some of that!" I sat up quitely in the darkness, I wanted to go to him. To be close to him, but I was afraid he'd retreat into his shell again. So I stayed still for the moment. "They would inject me with something. It wasn't always the same, or at least it didn't have the same effect all the time. They shot me up with something once, made my whole body swell up. It felt like my skin was going to burst. Something else made me bleed for days. God it hurt! I bled from my mouth, eyes, nose, ears. Even from my rectum and penis. Every orifice in my body. I eventually got sick of the smell of my own blood. I couldn't eat for about a week after that little adventure." He drew a shuddering sigh. "I always put up a fight." There was another harsh laugh. "You know me. But they had something like tazers. They'll take the fight right out of you. Until the next time, at least. They're what left the scars on my arms and back. Some of them anyway." I couldn't stand it anymore. I crossed the short space between our beds, and sat down next to him. His hand found mine, and he went on. "I wasn't the only one either. I'd hear screams sometimes. There were men and women. Scully, that's a dark place where no person should ever have to be." His hand squeezed mine, and I squeezed back gently. "They took something from you. Remember?" "Yes." We both knew what they'd taken. My ova. "They took something from me too. I think they harvested my semen." I felt him shuttering, as he remembered. "They.. They did a procedure once. I've got two scars on my scrotum. I was awake, but I couldn't move. I was strapped down. At first, I thought they were castrating me. That's what it felt like. It hurt that bad. I screamed myself hoarse. My nuts were swelled about four times their size for the next few days. What did they do to me, Scully?" "I don't know Mulder. I don't know." I was crying silently for him. But he knew. He scooted back to the wall, and pulled me down next to him. He spooned up against my back, and clung to me. "I don't even know if I'm a man anymore." He whispered after a time. "I guess it depends on how you measure a man. You still are to me." "I never really understood how it made you feel. When they.. did that to you. I do now. I'm sorry Scully. I'm so sorry." "I wish you didn't know. I wish.." "Let's not talk about it anymore. Not tonight." He interrupted me, his voice urgent. I nodded. I didn't want to hear anymore. I'd heard enough to give me nightmares for months. I'd tried several times to examine him. He wouldn't let me. Not even a cursory exam. He got angry, almost to the point of violence. He'd insisted he was fine, and no amount of arguing would change his mind. I'd stopped mentioning it after a few days. "Let me examine you tomorrow." I said softly in the darkness. "No." He was adamant. "Mulder. We have to find out what they did. How else are we going to do that?" He didn't answer. He knew I was right. "We have to know." I insisted. "All right." He caved, but I could feel the tension in his body. "It's just me Mulder. No one else will be there. OK?" "Yeah." He was getting angry. I rolled to face him. I reached my arm over him, and stroked his back. "Don't baby me!' He snapped suddenly. I pulled my hand away quickly. "I feel like enough of a freak, as it is." His voice was a hiss. I'd been expecting this. Mood shifts brought on by feelings of helplessness, or defenselessness. It was a common side effect of violent trauma. Knowing that did little to sooth the pain of his tone however. I slipped out of his bed, and returned to my own. "Goodnight Mulder." It was a struggle to keep my voice even. He didn't answer. End part 2 Then What of Our Nightmares? (3/3) by Kelly Moreland The exam was a trial for both of us. I know that with as much as he'd been through, being poked and prodded--even by me--was horrifying. I found he was anemic, which I'd suspected. I had iron supplements for that. His electrolytes were way out of balance, he had some internal parasites. All these could be remedied with medication, and time. There were some abnormalities in his blood, that I couldn't quite figure out with the simple equipment I had. Residue from the injections they'd given him, no doubt. Possible side effects of them, I had no way of knowing. The physical exam was the worst part. I'd seen him naked that first day, but I was so relieved to see him at all, that I missed a lot of things. There was a small ridge on his right side, over the fourth rib. It had been broken, and healed slightly out of alignment. The pinky and ring finger on his right hand could be re-broken and reset, at some point in the future. But it was out of the question for now. He wouldn't be able to cope with it. Neither could I. The scars that covered his arms and back were burns. High voltage burns, like from a powerful tazer. Just as he said. A few of them were badly healed cuts, that should have been stitched. He'd told me about the experiments, but he hadn't said who had beaten him so brutally. I'm not sure I wanted to know anyway. He was laying flat on the examination table shivering and it wasn't from the temperature in the room. I knew he was scared. I couldn't blame him for it. I looked at the two scars he'd told me about the night before. One on each side of his scrotum. They were slightly crescent shaped, about two inches long. They looked a lot like a vasectomy. A very badly done vasectomy. He cringed every time I touched him, so I finally just gave up. This wasn't exactly life threatening, and I couldn't stand the way it affected him. He relaxed a little after he was dressed, but now he wouldn't meet my eyes again. "Are you all right?" I asked him, careful not to stand too close, nor too far away. After his outburst last night I was treading a fine line. "Yeah. I'm just tired." He ran his hand through his hair, and faced me, but kept his eyes downcast. "So? What did you find?" "You aren't that bad off, actually. We'll have you back in shape soon." "Cut the crap, Scully." His eyes were hard when they finally met mine. "I'm not giving you any crap, Mulder." "I'm a goddamn walking nightmare, and we both know it!" He yelled at me. "You'll get better. You'll gain weight..." I sighed as he stormed past me. No sense wasting my breath. I hung my head. It'll pass, I told myself. "Problem?" Skinner asked, standing in the doorway. "Welcome to emotional outburst 101." I forced a smile that he didn't buy for a minute. "What do we do for him?" He had obviously seen Mulder's grand exit. "Just give him time. It's all we can do. This kind of thing is common after violent trauma." "How many times has he bitten your head off like that?" "A couple. I expect it to get worse. He has to come to terms with everything. I just can't get him to open up enough yet." "Maybe some outside interference might help?" "I don't know. He's unpredictable, he's just.." He cut me off. "He's clinging to you. He wants you there, so you are. He pushes you away, and you let him." I couldn't argue his point. "He's playing you like a violin, Dana. He may not even realize he's doing it." "What do you suggest?" "Get in his face! In two years I haven't seen you back down from anything. Except this. Reality is harsh now, and he needs to face it." "He's been through a lot..." I was interrupted again. "And you haven't? I've seen you fight. I've seen you kill. I've seen you shot twice. I set your arm after the dust-up in Lexington, while you stayed calm and told me how to do it right. I've watched you wade through bodies, trying to decide who you can save and who is a lost cause. We've all been through a lot." His words were hard and truthful. "But we've been through it together. He's been isolated." "And he's staying isolated, because you let him. It's been almost a week. How much longer do you plan on hiding him?" He was pissing me off, mostly because he was right. "I can't make him well overnight! It's going to take a while." "How long it takes might be up to you, more than him." I sighed in exasperation, as he walked away. Maybe he had a point. I left Mulder alone for a while. I didn't go right back to our room to check on him. Instead, I put on my coat and went outside. The walk did wonders to clear my head. Skinner was a hard-nosed son of a bitch, but he wasn't a cruel person. He just had a brutal way of stating the facts. I decided to give it a try. I walked back into our room about an hour later, and Mulder was pacing the floor. "Where have you been?" His accusatory tone was the last thing I needed to hear right then. "I went for a walk. You should try it, fresh air would do you good." "I don't want to go outside." He sounded petulant. "I've noticed that. In fact, you don't even like going outside this room." My voice took on the 'don't screw with me' tone. "So?" He plopped down on his bed and stared at me. "So?" I took Skinner's advice to heart, and literally got in his face. I know he meant it figuratively, but I was fed up. I leaned down, crowding him. "What is with this self pitying, bullshit routine?" He stared at me in surprise. "You've been locked in here," I tapped his forehead. "More than you've been locked in this room. The people that love you most are here, and you won't even speak to them." "I can't face them right now!" His shout was deafening. "Why not?" I yelled back. "Because I can't!" We were nose to nose now. "Because you _won't_!" He didn't answer me. He just sat there, breathing hard and staring at me. I didn't back down this time. I didn't reach to calm him. I wanted to, but I wouldn't let myself. "You don't understand." He looked away from me, his face still storming. "Then make me." His knees drew up to his chest, and he rested his chin on them. "I know who they are. I just don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I am, or where I fit into anything." His voice had softened again, but still had a bitter edge. "I can tell you who you are. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You are the one who never gave up. Who always looked for the answers and found them. You were the one man who believed that he could fight the future. You made the rest of us believe it too. That's what we've been doing. What you would have done. We need you Mulder. We can do this without you, but we could do it a hell of a lot better with you. But you have to crawl out from under this self-imposed rock, first. And none of us can do that for you." His eyes snapped back to me. I had his full attention. "You told me once that I kept you honest, that I was your touchstone. I took that to mean I was your center. If you don't know who you are, or where you belong, I'll show you the way." His anger passed, as suddenly as it flared up. He leaned toward me, pressing his forehead against my own. "I look and feel like a freak." He whispered. "You aren't. You're sick, I know how you hate that. You always have. But you are not a freak." "I guess I need to talk to them, huh?" "You have to at least try." I agreed. "They are going to ask a lot of questions that I don't want to answer." "No they won't. They are your friends, they'll understand." "I need you with me." I chuckled, "Just try to keep me out." When I told the guys that Mulder wanted to talk to them, you'd have thought I announced free beer night at Hooters. "If he hedges a question, don't push. What he's told me would make all of you shrivel. There are things he just isn't ready to talk about. We all have things like that. And don't mention how he looks. He's seriously hung up on it right now." "Is the lecture over yet, Scully?" Frohike asked with his usual charm. "I just don't want anything to go wrong." I explained. "Trust us, Dana." Skinner said, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets. "I do. I'm just worried." It was tense at first, but it went well. Langly, God bless him, acted like nothing had changed. Like a day had not passed since he last saw Mulder. I think that helped a lot. It broke the ice. We sat around the table in our room after dinner, and talked for hours. Skinner filled Mulder in the resistance movement, and how wide spread it really was. We are the Eastern division. We have a Northern, Western, and Mid-West divisions as well. We are more than two thousand strong. He, in turn, told us what he information he had, most of which we already knew. We were making an impact. A hard one. The facility here had a skeleton crew, when we took it. Most of them cleared out and moved to other locations just before we arrived, he didn't know where though. It did a lot for him. More than I had hoped. Byers said something just before he left, that I could have kissed him for. "It was great to find you Mulder. But it's even better now that *you* are back." He shook his hand, and left. He was the last one to go. "Not that bad, was it?" I asked him. "No. I'm glad you kicked my ass today. I needed it." "I know. Kicking your ass in one form or another has become a very fulfilling occupation." He stretched out on his bed and grinned at me. "You play rough Scully. You know that?" "You think this is rough? Wait till you see what I've got lined up for you tomorrow." He groaned, "Do I want to know?" "Probably not." He propped up on his elbows. "Lay it on me." The banter was great, it restored a lot of faith for me. He was coming back. Slowly, cautiously, but surely. "Physical therapy." I smiled broadly. "Sadist." He pouted at me. I'd missed that pathetic little pout. "Whine, whine, whine." The change over the next week was remarkable. He walked with me everyday. He didn't even complain that much. After the first few days, he even looked forward to it. Frohike, Langly, and Byers kept him company a lot. Langly told him that the Internet was one of our main forms of communication with the other divisions, and they spent one entire afternoon checking in with the other groups, relaying leads and information. Near the end of the week, I sat outside enjoying unseasonably warm weather, while he and Skinner shot hoops using a backboard nailed to a tree. It tired him out, but he loved it. His moods were still a little off-kilter. He would get dark and quiet sometimes. There were still things that clawed at him from the recesses of his mind. Things he still wouldn't talk about. Not even to me. I was startled awake one night, with someone standing over me. I grabbed for my pistol, just as he spoke. "Scully. It's me." "Jesus Mulder. Don't do that." I laughed shakily. "Move over." He whispered. I knew something was wrong. I slid over in the narrow bed, and he crawled in beside me. "What's wrong?" I could feel him shaking. "Just bad memories." I put my arm around him, and gasped. "Mulder, you're freezing! What is it? What happened?" "No. Not now. Please. Just hold me." He sounded tired, ragged. "It's ok. Just relax, it's all right." I rubbed his arms to warm them, as I spoke. He felt like ice. He curled up facing me. His head on the pillow next to my own. His hand reached up and stroked my cheek. I took it in mine, kissed his palm, then pressed it to my cheek again. "When will I be able to travel?" It was something he'd never asked before. "Soon I think. Maybe another week, why?" "I want to put this place behind me. To forget all of this." "Tell me what happened." "I want to, but I can't." He shook his head. "How can I help?" "I don't think you can on this one. Some things I have to handle alone." "Where ever you are my heart is with you. You're never alone Mulder." I whispered to him. He raised up and kissed me. It was soft and tender at first, then deepened to become more hungry, more powerful. His tongue slipped inside of my mouth, seeking my own. He tasted bitter sweet, and I savored it. I felt his hand, feather light against the side of my breast. His thumb brushed across my nipple and I shivered. My hands ran across his shoulders restlessly. He shifted over me, his thigh sliding between mine. I ran my hands over his chest, then slowly pulled his shirt up over his head. He wasn't cold now. His skin felt warm underneath my fingers. I raised up to let him slide my shirt off. His head lowered, and he rubbed his closed lips over my nipple. I arched at his touch. He took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it slowly, kneading the other his hands. I slid my hand inside his sweats and grasped him, squeezing him firmly in my hand, satisfied with the sharp gasp I heard in response. I dragged my nails lightly over his glands, as he gently tugged my nipple with his teeth. He teased one breast, then the other, as I squirmed beneath him. He leaned back and pulled my sweats down my legs in one smooth motion. I sat up, pushing his down to his knees. He yanked them the rest of the way off, and lay me back onto the bed again. He kissed my neck and my face. His lips burned against mine in another long kiss. He pressed his hips forward, spreading my thighs and rubbing his hard length against me. I gasped at the feel of him against my folds. I moved under him, grinding our bodies together, until I heard a deep growl from his chest. I reached between us and guided him into me. He filled me slowly and completely. He moved languidly inside me, his thrusts shallow at first but gradually deepening. I ran my hands over his shoulders, then down his back, arching toward him with each stroke. "You feel so good." He groaned raggedly. "So good Scully." My insides have coiled tight, and I whisper his name feverishly. He moved faster now, and I could feel his body tensing above me. "Mulder!" I cry, as the wave of tension suddenly broke inside me. From far away I heard him calling my name over and over, as he buries himself deep inside me with one powerful thrust. It was a long time before either of us could move. When we did, it was just to change our positions slightly. He lay on his back, and drew my head to his chest. His breath evened out into a sleeping rhythm in minutes. I fell asleep listening to the beat of his heart. The next day while Mulder was out with the Gunmen, I tracked down Skinner. I motioned him away from everyone else. "What is it?" His eyes were shadowed with concern. "Nothing bad. Mulder told me last night that he wanted to leave here." "Is he ready?" "Let's give him a few more days. A week at most. Once we are on the road, he's not going to get as much rest." He nodded thoughtfully. "He talked to me last night." Skinner's words surprised me. "About what?" "He has some ideas. Damn good ones." I didn't have to ask what he meant. I knew. This would have been Mulder's fight from the beginning, if fate had been a little more kind. "Did he talk about anything else?" I ventured. Skinners jaw tightened, and he nodded. "He talked a little. Not much." I remembered last night, and it all clicked into place. Mulder standing over me, cold as ice, not wanting to talk, but wanting to be close to me. That had to be when he came back from talking to Skinner. "It was late when he came back to the room." I said casually. "We talked for a long time." He confirmed my thoughts without realizing it. "I'm glad he can tell you the things he can't tell me." "You wouldn't want to know." His tone was grim. "I thought of something last night, after he went to bed. I have an idea." Skinner spoke quietly, looking at the walls around us. I listened to what he had in mind, and I agreed. The meetings had become a nightly habit, but now included most everyone in our group. Mulder looked a lot better than he had before. He'd gradually met the others in our party, getting to know some of them very well. He was still thin and I knew it would take months before his weight was normal again, but I had noticed that his ribs were less visible, his cheeks less hollow. A lot it was from the Vodka cakes that Frohike kept making. Mulder loved them, and they were really high in calories. A few days later, he helped plan our next campaign. We'd gotten some information on another installation in Jacksonville, Florida. We received the blueprints through e-mail, and reviewed them. We assigned check-in locations. Mulder pointed out some good vantage points, and potentially dangerous areas. His mind was as sharp as ever. He was less than enthusiastic when we asked him take the lookout position. He wanted to be down front. We managed to convince him that if anyone was going to watch our asses, we would rather it be him, than anyone else. He said he didn't know if that was a compliment, or a perverse insult. The old Mulder was definitely back. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The next couple of days were hectic, as we prepared to hit Jacksonville. There was a lot to be done, and Mulder was right in the midst of it all. I think it was having a sense of purpose that finally brought him back to us so completely. He laughed more, and I loved hearing it. I wasn't the only one either. I never knew Skinner to tell dirty jokes, but he'd put any sailor to shame. But Mulder had also changed drastically in one respect. He was openly affectionate to me since we'd started sleeping together. I didn't really mind, it wasn't a big secret that we loved each other. To quote Langly, a blind man could see it. I was in the mess hall with Frohike, taking inventory of our stocks, when Mulder snuck up behind me. He spun me around, and gave me a loud, smacking, kiss. "Oh jeeze. Get a room." Frohike chuckled. "But then you'd miss the peep show." Mulder remarked, before leaning down and kissing me again, more sincerely this time. "By the power invested in me by the state of confusion, I now pronounce you man and wife." Skinner called out, coming down the corridor toward us. "Is that legal?" Mulder grinned at him, sounding hopeful. "No, it's not legal." I said. "It's legal." Frohike and Skinner answered in unison. They were really spooky sometimes. "It's not legal." I said louder this time. "They say it is!" Mulder pointed to them accusingly. "It's not legal because you never asked me." I smiled smugly. His playful smile faded. "I asked you a long time ago. You just never gave me an answer." He sounded serious. I blinked at him, waiting for the punch line. "You were joking." "Says who?" My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I didn't know what to say. "Well?" Mulder whispered, his eyes searching mine. He was serious! "Well?" Frohike mimicked. Skinner was watching as well, a mischievous grin half hidden by the hand cupping his chin. "Yes." I finally found my voice. Mulder's face lighted up like the sun. "You may now kiss the bride." Skinner nodded. "He already has." Frohike grinned. That didn't stop Mulder. He kissed me again. It was a kiss that I'll never forget. Familiar, promising, and gentle. It was a wedding day kiss. "Now it's legal." Skinner grunted. "But you have to delay the honeymoon, or make it a real short one." "Hey guys!" Frohike yelled out. "Mulder and Scully just got hitched!" That brought Langly and Byers both on the run. "'Bout damn time!" Langly laughed, clapping loudly. "Seriously?" Byers asked, looking from me to Mulder and back again. "Yes." Mulder answered him, smiling broadly and still holding me close. "Yeah. That means they'll both be useless for the rest of the day." Skinner muttered gruffly. He wasn't quite pulling off the tough boss act. "Go on. Get out of here." Mulder was enjoying this too much to turn down the offer, he drug me, still dumbfounded back to our room. We didn't come out till dinner time. We loaded up and left the next morning. Mulder and I rode out with Skinner, making sure we were the last ones to leave. Mulder looked back as we left, his expression both relieved and pained at the same time. Crawling out of hell isn't easy, I thought as I looked at him. Skinner looked tired, but I knew why. He'd been up early this morning. He stopped the van on a small rise, about a mile from the facility we'd just left. It was just visible in the distance. Mulder looked back at me quizzically, but I just shrugged. "Mulder, come on." He called over his shoulder, getting out of the van. Mulder opened his door, and got out, while I came out the side door. Skinner was standing with his back to us, looking down at the plain white building we had occupied for the past two weeks. "What is it?" Mulder asked, walking up to stand next to him. Skinner didn't answer, he just handed him a small black box. Mulder took it and looked back at me again, his eyes wide. "Do it Mulder." I nodded. "Put it behind you." He turned back around, and looked at Skinner, who also nodded. He pushed the single button on the detonator, and the building rumbled loudly, falling in on itself until it was nothing but a pile of rubble. "Everybody has to leave the darkness sometime." Skinner said, before turning back to the van. Mulder looked at me again, his face strong, if still a little thin. We smiled at each other. We got back into the van, and this time he didn't look back. Fini~ AUTHORS NOTE : When I started this a couple of days ago, I had a definite beginning, middle and end to it. I just had no idea how long it would take for me to tell it. I don't usually publish a WIP. I personally hate to read them! You never know when you'll get the next part of a great story. It's nerve wracking. This story has ended, but there are many more that could be told in this 'reality'. I see a million avenues I could take. So don't be surprised, if you see a sequel to, or companion to 'Nightmares' at some point. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. But I'm also glad it's over. It's been giving me nightmares of my own. Kell