TITLE: Influenza
AUTHOR: Cynthia Amaya 
CLASSIFICATION: MSR
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: Up to mid-5th season
ARCHIVE: Anywhere; as long as my name and e-mail stays on it and it's
archived in its entirety.
KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully relationship, Scully angst.
SUMMARY: Scully contracts a virus, experiences hypnagogia, and is
subjected to Mulder's version of therapy.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, Skinner, and any other X-Files characters
belong to Chris Carter and 1013. No infringement is intended. No profit
is being made. Also to Todd Rudgren, for the song Influenza, that I've
used without permission.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my very first attempt at fictional writing of
any kind so I don't mind if it is lacking in skill but know this; it
comes from an honest desire to create and share. The story idea came to
me last winter while I was sick with the flu, not such a bad way to mark
time while waiting to get better!  My friend and fellow X-Phile, Chris,
inspired me to write it. Thanks Chris. (Get well soon) Dedicated to my
husband Richard.
FEEDBACK: Good or bad, please e-me! rreis@texas.net

INFLUENZA
by Cynthia Amaya

It was a Tuesday afternoon and Mulder and Scully had chosen to work
through lunch. Scully had begun to feel weary the day before. Her
oncologist and her good sense told her to expect to feel run-down now
and then; although her cancer was in remission her immunity system
wasn't up to par yet and the past stresses could leave her vunerable to
illness and depression. So far she had handled the psychological stress
just *fine*.

"Mulder, is it cold in here or is it just me?"

Mulder looked over his glasses back at Scully and said, "It's ok to me
but you know how they don't want us comfortable down here in the
dungeon. Want me to check the thermostat?" Mulder started to get up.

"No, that's ok. I probably just need to get up and stretch."

"What's the matter, too much brain drain Scully?" Mulder wisecracked.

Scully just gave him that look, the one whenever Mulder was trying to
get a little rise out of her. 

"Want to break out and get a bite to eat?" Mulder asked, trying to make
up.

"No, I just want to finish so I can go home early."

Mulder nodded slightly and continued typing.

Scully sighed as she also began typing. The report wasn't difficult but
she was having trouble concentrating. Staring at the computer screen was
causing her eyes to burn with dryness. Her face felt like she was
wearing a heavy mask. She could actually imagine what this mask looked
like: a dusky red color with striated outlines of each muscle group like
in her anatomy textbooks.

Scully sneezed. 

Immediately Scully's nose burned and tingled and her sinuses began
filling. She anxiously wondered if there was blood but a quick swipe
with a tissue relieved her when there wasn't. Finished, she glanced over
to  Mulder, sure that he was staring at her. 

He was. Intently. 

Scully waved him away impatiently and bent back to her work.  

Over the next few hours the two agents were busy typing and reading
their field notes, pausing now and then to confirm some minor detail
with each other.

Suddenly, Scully said, "OK, that's it, I'm done and I'm out of here. Can
you get the printout and turn it in for me? If you see any problems call
me."

"Sure. You ok Scully?"  

He thought that Scully look pale and rundown. He tried to sound
nonchalant but inside alarms were going off.  

"Yeah, I'm probably just coming down with a little cold. Soup and a hot
bath are in order," she replied. 

"Sounds good. Take care Scully and don't worry about a thing. I'll
handle it," Mulder grinned.

"I'm sure you will."

Driving home Scully noticed how heavy her arms and legs were feeling.
Her throat was scratchy. "Shit," she muttered to the traffic. Arriving
home she threw her things down to the nearest chair, scattering her mail
to the floor in the process. "Screw it, I'll get it later," was her
answer to that.  Her head was pounding. She shuffled into the kitchen
and decided to throw a frozen dinner into the microwave while she ran
her bath. Before she left the kitchen she got a glass of water and
swallowed some pills for her headache. Later, exhausted but snug in her
bed, she fell fast asleep in a dreamless slumber.

At 3:02 AM something woke her. 

Pain. 

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?" she wondered out loud. Every joint in her
body ached and she was burning with fever. She cautiously got up to go
to the bathroom. She felt dizzy. She gathered her thermometer, pills,
and fresh water. "Hope it's not the flu," she prayed. 103.2 degrees,
read the thermometer. She tried to go back to sleep but it took at least
an hour before she passed into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning Scully woke up feeling worse. She didn't even bother to
call Mulder, she sent off a quick e-mail that told him she was sick with
a bad cold and wasn't coming in today and then she clicked off the
computer. 

By Thursday Scully wasn't much better. She still had a fever, her head
felt like it was vaccumed packed, and she had a dry cough that burned.
The day before she hadn't eaten much, just some dry toast. She got up
out of bed to go to the kitchen where she put on the kettle to make
bouillon and tea.

As she wobbled around the kitchen she realized she was running low of a
few things. It had been well over a week since the last time she was in
a grocery store. "Oh well," she thought, "there is always delivery." Not
to mention she knew that Mulder would fly to her rescue if she even
hinted she might need a new box of tissues.

***************************

By Thursday Mulder still had the sense that he shouldn't call Scully for
fear he would wake her up from much needed sleep or bother her somehow.
But he couldn't help himself. Mulder knew how well Scully could isolate
herself; she was just so stubborn that way. He only wanted to be there,
help if needed. Help her even if she didn't need it.

He tried to figure out when the best time might be to call her and then
just did it. He immediately felt terrible after he heard her struggle to
speak. 

"I woke you up," Mulder stated. "Sorry," he winced.

"Oh, umm, that's ok," Scully mumbled.

Mulder ventured, "How are you feeling?"

Scully heard the concern in his voice. "Well, I've felt worse," was her
feeble attempt to kept the mood light. "I have a little fever but I
should be fine in a day or two." 

"Do you need anything?"  He already knew the answer but he asked anyway.
"Want me to come over?" 

"No, no. I'm fine. I'm just going to sleep this off." Scully added,
"Thanks for calling."

After he hung up he wished for the hundreth time that they could go that
little step past partnership, past friendship. He could always imagine
that little step; it was a delicious fantasy. But ahead of that and his
imagination always stopped dead cold and he was filled with a vague
sense of dread. 

Mulder would be at work and he would impulsively want to tell Scully
some new interesting find or bounce some theory around with her. The
realization that she wasn't there with him was different than when she
was away doing independent work for a case; then he could call or e-mail
her. It was even different when she had been missing - that had seem so
final he had pretty much shut down in grief.

So, he didn't care for the empty space in his office that Scully usually
filled; it was depressing.   Even more than usual he tried to avoid
co-workers in the halls, labs, and offices who would ask him, "Where's
Dana, heard she was sick?" or,  "How is Scully doing?"

"Oh, she's fine, just off betting at the races," Mulder would deadpan. 

**************************
 
As Thursday wore on, Scully began to wonder just how much sicker she was
going to get. She was sleeping around the clock now, barely able to do
anything except simply survive through the ordeal. During that night her
fever soared so high she felt that she was hallucinating. That had
scared her. 

"Here is one of the few drawbacks of living alone; no one to care for
you when you are really sick." She felt a rush in her chest to add to
the fevered thudding of her heart as Mulder immediately came back to her
thoughts. "I may have to call him if things don't get better very soon,"
she admitted to herself. 

It used to be something like the flu wouldn't bother her. However, now
she understood how close at hand total catastrophe could be. Clinically,
she knew how one exquisitely tiny thing could go wrong within a person's
body, setting up an extensive chain reaction that ended in that person's
annihilation. 

During her illness Scully was also having plenty of time to ruminate of
other things. Events that she thought were put away came to the
forefront. She missed her father and especially, her sister. She allowed
herself to wonder how people in her life - how Mulder - would react if
something were to happen to her, and immediately felt childish doing it.
At this point she felt an overwhelming sense of depression settle over
her. She tried to fight it for but soon all the stress, all the
sickness, all the pressures real and imagined consumed her. She felt
silly and ashamed for such weak, negative thoughts and as she spiraled
down she began to cry. She knew this would only make her feel sicker and
she felt no real release in her tears. 

She turned on the bedside light and looked around for a book, a magazine
-  anything to distract her. She thought of her writing in her journal
but she felt too weak and sick to do that. She found the novel she had
been trying to read and opened that. She never got past a whole
sentence; she kept reading the same sentence without comprehension until
she quickly fell asleep.

**********************************

Skinner came down to Mulder's office to inquire after Scully and chat it
up with Mulder. Skinner rarely did this - he rarely had to. The duo were
usually in hot water about one thing or another and were often called to
his office.  Lately he hadn't seen too much of Mulder. Skinner shook his
head and thought, "Not a good thing to leave Mulder to his own devices
too long." 

He imagined the two agents as a kind of modern day Nick and Nora
Charles, the wisecracking, witty, married detectives of the old "Thin
Man" movie series. One minor detail though - Mulder and Scully weren't
married. He kept waiting for signs that they were more intimate but
after five years he couldn't see what would bring them together if they
hadn't by now.

Skinner stood at the doorway and asked, "How's Agent Scully doing?" 

Mulder looked up mildly surprised and replied, "Looks like she has a
touch of the flu but she should be coming back to work next week."
Mulder pressed his lips into his mouth and bit at them before releasing
them with a slight sucking sound. He was avoiding Skinner's face.

"That's good to hear." Skinner said. He sat down in what he now thought
of as Scully's chair and continued, "You feeling all right, Agent
Mulder?" 

Mulder snapped to attention. "Now why is he asking me that?" Mulder
wondered. 

"I didn't catch whatever Scully has, I feel fine."

When Skinner saw the guilty look on his face he almost laughed. Instead
he raised his eyebrows and said, "Just thought you looked a little tired
and worried. I know how it is when your partner is down. Feels like
something is missing, like a phantom limb."

Mulder got a mischievous look on his face. "I'll tell you what. If I
start seeing any phantom limbs floating around here you can bet I'll
open an X-file on it."

"You do that," Skinner replied as he left.

***********************

Friday morning Scully was finally feeling better. Shortly before sunrise
she had broken her high fever and she woke up surprised at the amount of
sweat that had soaked her nightshirt. She was relieved that the fever
was reduced. Feeling dehydrated, Scully made sure to drink plenty of
water. She reached for her book and spent a few hours reading before she
fell back asleep. 

Now Scully leaned against the bathroom sink surveying the damage in the
mirror. "Oh yeah Dana, you look like shit and you don't smell too good
either," she mentioned to herself as she reached for her toothbrush.
 
Later, after her shower, she curled up on her sofa surrounding herself
with her blue and white throw. Scully felt fatigued just from the effort
of taking a shower so she hadn't bothered to dry her hair. She turned on
the TV but really wasn't paying much attention to the early evening
news. She half expected another phone call from Mulder any time now.  

She realized that she was hungry - really hungry. "I'll get up in a few
minutes," she thought.

Scully drifted to someplace between sleep and full alertness. Her
thoughts became dreamlike and she entered that state of consciousness
that sometimes confused her; she was dreaming and aware of it but was
also including the outside world. The noises of her environment, mostly
her TV and street noise coming through the windows, that are normally
turned off or ignored by the sleeping mind, were somehow incorporating
into her dream state. 

She heard the phone ringing and she struggled to sit up and answer it.
When she picked up the receiver the voice at the other end didn't seem
to hear her. "Hello? Hello? HELLO?" She seemed to be  yelling into the
phone but the other person still didn't hear. "Must be a bad
connection," she mumbled, "they'll call back." She put the phone down
and soon went back to her busy dreams. A few minutes later the phone
started ringing again. 

This time Scully really did wake up. She sat up quickly, looking in the
direction of the mute phone when she heard a noise at the door. Her
heart was pounding and she was confused. 

"Scully?" 

She thought someone was coming after her. She couldn't breath in panic.

"Scully, it's me. I'm coming in."

Scully just stared over the back of the sofa at the tall man standing in
her doorway. 

Mulder thought she looked stunned, afraid, and sick. "What's the
matter?  Are you okay?" 

Scully was panicky. She couldn't remember where she had put her gun. The
man's voice echoed loudly in a hellish manner and a hazy grey tunnel
outlined his dark figure. 

Scully finally blinked her eyes, swallowed, and started panting. She put
one hand on her chest and one hand out in a stop motion.

"Scully! What's wrong? Tell me," Mulder loudly asked. Prickles of fear
went through him.

When she still didn't answer him he quickly strode over to her.

To Scully, this surreal image of danger running towards her was becoming
too much to bear. She let out a low groan that ended in a loud "NO!"

This startled Mulder and he backed off a bit.

Now the fog was beginning to lift. 

"I'm okay, I'm okay, just give me a minute. I was in the middle of a
dream," she said breathlessly.

Mulder leaned down and felt her forehead and the back of her neck as she
continued talking. She was not looking at him anymore but focused on
some spot under the coffee table. 

Scully knew that most of what she was saying was about the dream but
then she starting babbling of other nightmares; being sick and feverish,
being taken, feeling like she was going to die, knowing that death and
monsters were all around her, and that she was scared and alone. 

Mulder knelt down and studied her face and took it all in wordlessly. He
had never seen her in this state.  He held her hand and she gripped his
tightly. Soon she worked herself to a near hysterical pitch and cried as
she spit out the words: 

"I was alone, Mulder, all alone and there was no one to help me. And I
was so angry. It was hurting me and I couldn't stop it and it kept
coming and coming and I all I wanted to do was hit it, stab it, shoot
it! And I tried and I tried and it just kept coming back, laughing at
me! IT WOULDN'T DIE AND I COULDN'T KILL IT!" 

Scully by now was clutching Mulder's shirt. Her face was wet and burning
and her breathing was ragged. 

Mulder felt compassion surge over him.  His own worried eyes moisten. 

"What hurt you Scully? What couldn't you stop?" 

She looked up at him with so much pain on her face.

"YOU! I couldn't stop YOU! Somehow this horrible evil thing turned into
you and I hated you! I wanted you to die!" Scully started raw crying set
free from the depths of her soul. 

"Wha-? Scully." 

He pulled her to him and they clung to each other while Scully continued
to cry. Mulder was busy trying to take in Scully's distress. He wondered
how much of it was the dream and how much of it was perhaps some kind of
recovered memory of her abduction. His empathic skills understood most
of the dream, understood the triggers and the releases it brought. His
understanding of the mind worked for him and he thought he knew why he
played that role in her dream.  It was still a shock to him however, and
he couldn't help but be a little hurt by the accusation, mixed with a
strange pride at being allowed into such a deep secret place.

Scully immediately regreted what she told him. She blurted, "I'm sorry!
I didn't mean it."

"Shhh, it's okay. I understand. It was only a dream, just a dream." They
were rocking gently.

"I was just so...disoriented," Scully continued, "it was frightening." 

"Yeah, I know. I've had a few bad dreams myself."

Mulder looked around and spotted the tissues on the coffee table. He
wordlessly handed a few to her and put the box nearer to her. He stroked
her still damp hair. 

Scully had stopped crying but her breath still came in hitches. 

"Oh Mulder, it hurts," she hiccupped and tapped her chest. 

"I know," he said. "Can you take a deep breath?" Scully shook her head
no.

"Come on, try," Mulder encouraged.

Scully let out a short sigh. Mulder coached, "No, do it with me, like
this." Mulder took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. When he did
it again Scully followed. "Again," he said.

Scully let out a few blows. "Better?" Mulder asked. 

She nodded yes against his chest. It felt so good to feel him this way.
She lifted her head a little and muttered, "Your T-shirt. I've gotten...
stuff all over it." She was embarrassed at the whole situation now.

"I don't care about that but my knees hurt." 

Scully wondered out loud, "Your knees?" Then she understood. "Oh,
sorry."

Mulder joined her up on the sofa while Scully grabbed a few more
tissues, trying to hide her face.  Scooting down to accommodate her
height he put one arm around her. Scully had her own arms up against her
chest with both fists jammed under her chin. 

They felt the hot dampness between them; her tears, her hair, their
perspiration. They were aware of breathing in each other's air while the
rhythm of their breathing synchronized occasionally. Scully could swear
she heard Mulder's body humming as if she was listening not only to the
strong beat of his heart but listening down to the fibers of his muscles
and nerves. 

She felt so tired but it was a good tired and she relaxed into it. The
horror of before was fading away and something good and clean and right
was rushing in now. Soon Scully didn't know where her body ended and his
began on the places they shared. Scully found great comfort in this warm
place so close to Mulder. 

Meanwhile, Mulder's mind was leaping ahead. "Oh my god," he thought,
"it's going to happen."

END PART 1/2

INFLUENZA
by Cynthia Amaya

Mulder and Scully quietly watched the television, each pretending to be
absorbed by the images. Every once in a while Scully would let out a
snuffle and a sigh and Mulder in turn would give her arm a little rub
and a couple of pats. 

Outside, the brilliant sunshine began to be obscured by fast moving grey
clouds. Occasionally the wind rattled one of the living room windows.
This was the same window that had been broken during Scully's abduction.
By now Scully knew that sound and hated it. She had traced the noise
back to the upper window pane, the untouched one that had seemed so
solid until just the right wind came along. Whenever she heard it
memories of the terrifying night when she had been taken would instantly
replace any previous thoughts and she was reminded of her own shattered
self image.

For the first time Mulder heard that rattle. He turned his head quickly
towards the sound and froze. When he was satisfied there was no danger
he resumed staring at the TV but his face had gone dark. Scully had
wanted to say something but couldn't think of anything so she said
nothing at all. Once Mulder relaxed again he brought his other arm
around her protectively and gave her a little hug. 

Scully impulsively pressed her hand slowly across his chest and returned
the hug .  Mulder took a deep breath and hugged her warmly for a long
time. His hands began to slowly and sensually caress her arm and back,
anywhere he could reach. Although Scully's head was horribly congested
and her body still weak she couldn't help but notice how aroused she was
quickly becoming. It was as if she had came back from some abyss and
wanted to feel life again. 

Scully began to move on her own, reaching for more and more of him.
Mulder arched his back attempting to scoot down lower, causing Scully to
press more fully on him. At the same time he turned his head down,
rooting for closer contact with her face. Scully could feel the heat
radiating off him. She closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck and licked
her lips, tasting the salt of her tears mixed with the taste of his
skin. Their bodies pulled at each other, transformed by the pure
physical craving of  warmth and love. 

For those blissful moments Scully and Mulder simply enjoyed feeling each
other, too overcome to think of anything else. Scully let out a low
sigh. Things began to feel dangerously close to a point of no return.
Her mind snapped back to reality. Instinctively, Mulder also felt the
need for a pause, for a chance to evalute.

As Scully pulled away and sat up, she and Mulder locked eyes. Mulder's
eyes were seductively focussed on her. She could see how dialated his
black pupils were, how compelling that made them. She felt that Mulder's
whole life was compressed into that blazing gaze. Behind the fire she
could see his soul laid bare for her. Scully saw the lust, the need, and
the love; it shocked her. She didn't think she could return the feelings
in equal amounts. 

"Mulder, what are we doing?"

"I think you know."

"Well, we shouldn't do this," Scully said half-heartedly. She stopped
trying to pull away but stayed tensed.

Mulder felt he still had self control - barely. So often he had counted
down the reasons this shouldn't happen. Now circumstance brought him
this chance. He wondered if he was being a fool but suddenly, he didn't
care. He wanted to stay and trust his instincts. 

All Mulder could see was Scully's face; her red nose and splotchy face,
her slightly bloodshot eyes and the dark circles - all ravages of the
cold and crying - yet Mulder worshipped this face. He watched her large
expressive eyes looking back at him, watched the mixture of emotions
washing across her face. He glanced down to her swollen lips and felt a
wave pulse through him. He leaned over, brushed the hair back a bit from
her eyes and tenderly began kissing her face. 

Scully blinked slowly, enjoying the warmth of his lips, while her heart
skipped and she tingled in various places. Mulder's hand cupped her head
while his lips traveled to her mouth. For moments they hesitated,
prolonging the intense sensations, each not willing to be the first one
to close their eyes.

They brought their lips together lightly for a few times; lips exploring
and teasing each other until Mulder tasted Scully's mouth with his
tongue. That was all Scully needed; they were overcome with desire and
began fully kissing. Scully let out a small noise of pleasure into his
mouth that made Mulder draw his breath in sharply as they continued to
kiss with abandonment.  

Scully became breathless - literally. It was she who had to break away
first, her clogged sinuses interfering. "Oh god," Scully sighed,
surprised at how dizzy and light headed she felt and for how much she
had enjoyed their kiss. For Mulder it was like coming home and he
greedily wanted more.

"Wait - I can't breathe," she half laughed.

"Sorry. Breathe," Mulder whispered, not yet able to overcome the knot in
his throat.

Scully looked up at him and made a strenuous effort to remember her
previous mindset. Although she was determined, she dreaded what she had
to say next. She racked her brain for the right words and made several
false starts until she became frustrated and closed her eyes to him. 

She looked at Mulder again and saw across his eyes a flicker of
something - what? Hope? Surrender? Fear? She became irritated. Damn him.
Damn him for being so needy, so alone, so misused. In that instant she
was thankful for her anger; it gave her the energy she needed to refuse
him.
 
"We can't do this," she stated.

"Why not?"

Scully took a deep breath and said, "It won't work."

"Sure it will. We'll make it work."

"I don't want it to work out this way." 

Mulder had his guard down. "What's wrong? Don't do this. Don't ruin us." 

Scully was astonished. "Ruin us? Me ruin us? What about you?"

Mulder sat back in disbelief and panic. He fought hard to think clearly,
to not give in to the chaos. Abruptly he thought he had the answer.
"Don't give me that, you're just looking for an excuse!"  

"Look, I don't need an excuse. I know what's best for me. In the end you
will see that's it's probably best for you too."

Mulder quickly and angrily said, "don't decide what's best for me!"

They both grew quiet for a moment.
 
Scully began, "I wasn't looking for this but it happened; I can't do
anything about that now. So much has happened to me where I had no
control -"

"Don't blame me Scully," Mulder interrupted, "blame *them*. Better yet,
don't blame anybody. You can't go around always in control no matter who
you are or what you do. For once in your life stop fighting it." He
plaintively added, "Stop fighting me."

Scully countered,  "I'm not blaming you for anything, you know better
than that. I've worked hard to avoid being a victim in all this. My
beliefs, my faith, my family, who I was before - has helped me, not
hindered me." She continued with resignation in her voice, "I haven't
given up the war, just the battle. This has got to stop. It's insane.
It's too painful. I don't know how much time I may have left and I just
can't waste it."

Mulder stood up and paced a few steps. He was getting hurt and confused
again. He wondered how these things could turn bad so fast. He wanted to
understand what she was doing but it was hard not to think of her
rejection signifying him as a waste of space.

He went forward as rationally as he could. He asked her, "Well, what DO
you want? This is as much a part of you now as ever.  You can't stop it.
You can't run away from it. And even if you could, sooner or later
you'll discover that all you have is your work and you'll look up and
there won't be anyone there. You WILL be all alone. Is that what you
want?" 

Scully knew exactly what to say to that. "I'm not running away from
anything, Mulder. You're projecting on me. This is what YOU do."

Mulder measured those last words all the while glaring at her and
chewing his lip. 

"Goddamn it Scully! You think I don't KNOW that? There is nobody there
for me, only -"

Mulder looked away and put his hands on his hips for a long time.

Finally Mulder turned back to her and quietly said, "You are all I have.
We can be there for each other, just like before."

Defeated, Mulder started walking out of the room.

Scully stood up to follow him. 

"Mulder -" 

"I'm leaving Scully," he said evenly. "This isn't going anywhere. I
won't ask you to stay with the X-Files or me. You have to decide that
for yourself and from the sound of things you already have." He headed
for the door.

Somehow, after getting what she wanted, she began second guessing
herself. "Mulder, I'm sick and I'm tired. Did you forget? We can talk
about this later." 

Mulder took a few steps back towards her. His voice was straining with
anguish as he spoke loudly, "That's just it, I know you are sick. I know
some of the unspeakable things that have happened - are still happening
to you. I want you to know you are not alone. You don't have to be so
strong all the time. Do you think you have to be strong for me?"

It was Scully's turn to look away.  She sat back down heavily on the
sofa. 

Mulder followed and sat with her.  He sensed a chink in her armor.
Suddenly he had an idea, something that would help her see the truth.
Calmly he asked,  "What do you think that dream was about? Do you know?"

Scully became wary but she wasn't about to let him know that. She pulled
herself together, leveled a look at him and began, "I believe it was
induced by the flu, probably the results of the combined effects of my
fever and elevated levels of naturally occuring chemicals during sleep;
serotonin, epinephrine, endorphins and such, that were likely
artificially heightened by the drugs I was taking for the flu. This in
turn set off and provoked higher levels of brain neuron activity that
manifested itself onto my brain's dream sites." 

"In short, Mulder, a dream gone bad."

Scully thought she sounded like such a smartass but she didn't care; she
was hedging.

Mulder sighed, "That was just the catalyst. You haven't answered my
question Scully."

"I'm getting to that, Mulder." Scully went on, "What I experienced a
while ago was hypnagogia, the 4th state of consciousness, the 'twilight
state'. This often occurs in the interval preceeding stage 1 sleep not
to be confused with REM dreaming." 

Mulder interrupted, "You did have a nightmare. Maybe not just now but
earlier. You told me that."

"Yes, I might have incorporated that. But a more likely explanation was
the association of hearing you knocking at my door during this fleeting
psycho-physical state, inducing paranoia." Scully was on a roll now and
she knew it. She continued, "You know as well as I that hypnagogia is
associated with the paranormal hypothesis. That's it's a fertile source
of ghostly experiences, out of body sensations, astral projection. This
altered state is quasi-hallucinatory or even full-blown hallucinatory."

"It can also be a time of personal transformation," Mulder said with
quiet intensity.  

"You mean how do I interprete the symbolism? It's really quite simple -"

"Cut the crap Scully," he sneered.  "What about how you felt, what you
were feeling emotionally? Towards who or what?"

The anxiety pain in her chest was coming back. She struggled with
herself for awhile, fighting her wish to fly from the room, make him
dissappear, anything to keep from answering truthfully. 

She didn't want to compromise her honesty anymore though, she needed to
get this out. She was just going to have to tell him. 

"You. All the unresolved issues I have with you."

"Why Scully, you have issues? Do tell," he said smugly. Mulder thought 
he could widen that crack for sure now and he kept digging at her. He
knew he sounded ugly and revengeful.

"Don't. And you can stop using that tone with me." Scully was
disappointed and annoyed with Mulder now. She had no intention of
sharing her feelings if he was going to carry on like that.

"What is so hard that you can't tell? You can do anything Scully, isn't
that right?" Mulder badgered.

"Stop it."

"You don't have anything to be afraid of. It was just a stupid dream,
nothing, remember? Just a jumble of brain cells randomly firing, isn't
that so Scully? Why can't you talk about it then?"

"Stop it! Back off Mulder!" Scully didn't think she should have to
endure his stupid harassment anymore. She could feel her anger rising. 

Mulder was persistent, "Tell me Scully! What are you afraid of? What's
happening to you! What's your dirty little secret!" Mulder's temper  and
impatience kept going up to match Scully's.  

Something close to blind panic slammed into Scully for the second time
that day. Adrenaline punched through her like a jackhammer. Scully felt
a huge bubble rising and it threatened to choke her. 

"Damn it, Mulder, stop. Just stop! I'm not telling you anything. Get the
hell out of here, LEAVE!" She punctuated those last words with shoves
against him.    

"No," he said defiantly,  "Tell me."

Scully reached her breaking point and her voice strained, "I've said
enough as it is!"

"No, you haven't, Scully. What are you hiding?" Mulder pushed her back. 

"Fuck you, Mulder!"

"No, fuck you, I insist," Mulder replied flippantly.

Scully balled her fists and began pounding on Mulder's chest. They
struggled after Mulder quickly caught her wrists. 

Scully blurted, "I feel so used! I should have been able to stop this.
They've taken so much from me.  And I don't want you feeling sorry for
me. I felt pathetic. I hated being hurt, letting myself be hurt by you
while we were busy holding each other off at arm's length. I hated
myself and you for making me fall in love!"

Scully stopped struggling with Mulder.  "How could you make me go
through this now?" she cried.

Mulder wasn't shocked and he wasn't feeling guilty - he was relieved. He
grabbed her face and declared, "Because it's time for both of us to 
commit to something more solid, tangible, something we can count on.
I've decided to take that chance, Scully. I'm in love too, don't you
see?"  

The words hung in the air.  

Mulder was the first to speak again. He assured her, "You can do this
with me. We can try."

Scully shook her head slightly and huffed. Large silent tears fell down
her face. She shook her head again more vigorously.

"Scully, you can do this, don't be afraid." 

She gasped and shuddered. She *was* afraid.

"Scully? Please."

Mulder appealing to her stirred something in Scully's willful spirit.
Looking at him now she saw a bit of herself in his face; the same fears,
the same despair, the same hopes and dreams. She began to understand she
didn't have to lose herself to be with him. That they could take care of
each other on equal ground.
 
Through her fears and her doubts she decided to try; she would crack
open that door and allow Mulder in. She owed that to herself. Scully
gave Mulder a look of resignation along with a small nod. Mulder let out
a gasp of relief and immediately put his arms around her.  Scully
glanced at his face at the last moment and saw the intense mixture of
relief and joy. When they pulled back Scully shyly looked at him and
Mulder sweetly kissed her until Scully once again had to stop in order
to breathe properly.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, "how do you feel?"

"Actually, not too well," she said faintly.

Although Mulder was concerned for her he couldn't help secretly  being
delighted that she had finally told him that. "Hold on," Mulder got up
and told her, "Be right back."

Mulder went over to the grocery bags he had dropped on the floor when he
had first come in, picked them up and went into the kitchen. He soon
returned with a glass full of ice and something clear. "Got something
for you," he offered. Scully took it gratefully.

"Ginger ale, supposed to be good for you when you are sick, isn't it?"
Mulder asked.

He sat beside her and stroked her as he spoke. "I'm going to get you
something to eat. I'm going to take care of you," he said seriously. He
kissed her, got up, and went back into the kitchen. Scully grabbed the
afghan around her, pulled up her feet, sat back sideways to the couch
and closed her eyes, nursing a headache.

After much rustling and banging around in her kitchen he finally brought
to her a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. 

"Comfort food, Mulder?" 

"Just like mom's."

She couldn't decide which was better; the hot salty food or the light
sweetness of the cold ginger ale. Scully thought it was the best food
she had tasted in a long time. 

"What about you, aren't you going to have some?" 

"I will later. You need to get some rest now. Do you want to stay on the
couch or go back to bed?"

"Bed would be nice but I'd like to change the sheets first." 

Scully wearily got up and got fresh sheets. As she walked into her
bedroom she realized Mulder was right on her heels; it felt awkward.
Scully decided to ignore the discomfort and just get on with the task at
hand. She dropped a pillowcase and bent over to pick it up. She gave a
small grunt when the pressure and pain from her head hurt her. 

"Here, let me do that." Mulder began moving so quickly that Scully
thought she might do well to step back and stay out of the way.

"Come on, in you go," Mulder coaxed.

Scully slid in bed and sat back against the headboard. Mulder sat down
on the edge of the bed and said, "Call me if you need anything." She
nodded. They held hands; she looked at his profile while he looked down
at the floor, lost in thought.  

Mulder looked at her, smiled, and gave her another kiss. He
straightened, and with a little nod of satisfaction, turned out the
light. Mulder was enjoying this new role; he felt whole again. 
  
Scully murmured, "I could get used to this," as she snuggled down under
the covers. She heard Mulder knocking about the kitchen again. The
noises began retreating as she nearly drifted off to sleep. 

She heard him walk into the living room and sit down. As she listened to
him change the channels on the TV she was just...about...asleep.

And then she heard something that caused her heart to skip a beat and
her eyes to fly open. "Oh no," she groaned.

Mulder sneezed.

**************************

There's a part of my heart that says stop
please go no further
I just can't take the pressure
So I try to resist then my heart tells me  don't bother
that this pain is pleasure

I can tell, I can feel, I can see
something  is changing
To me change is no stranger
I don't run, I don't hide, I don't fight
what fate arranges
I don't think about danger

I should trust myself
I should beware of this 
but it's like a stranger's kiss 
and somehow I can't resist

And I can feel, I can feel
I can feel my will slip away
under your influenza
I can feel, I can feel
I can feel my mind slip away
under your influenza
I can feel, I can feel
I can feel my heart slip away
under your influenza

END PART 2/2

Comments? E-me at rreis@texas.net