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dead.  No financial gain is made from this writing.  

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HELP ME THROUGH THE NIGHT (1/1)
Yvonne J Richards
Yvonne-Richards@msn.com
No spoilers for anything
RATING - G one naughty word S**T
CONTENT WARNING -  NONE
CLASSIFICATION -  V with   A


Mulder has a bad dream and Scully finds a way to express her feelings.






HELP ME THROUGH THE NIGHT
by Yvonne J Richards
August 1997


Apart from love, fear is the most inexplicable feeling in the world.  No two 
people love the same way, no two people have exactly the same fear.  They may 
fear the same thing, but their reaction to it is totally different.

If not brought out into the cold light of day and explored, fear is left for 
the darkness of the night, when the mind is in turmoil.  

It is like a dark shadow that appears from nowhere and just as suddenly 
disappears.  It is a fear that creeps up on you and then it grows and grows, 
like a phantom in the night.  It takes over and triumphs in its stranglehold 
on you.  Only to dissipate when morning comes and the light takes over your 
world, but still it returns for it's nightly vigil by your bedside.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


My eyes snap open.

Turning, I look at the clock, it is just 2 am.  I blink and then screw my eyes 
up wondering why I have woken this early.

Then I hear it.

The rain.  It is pelting against the window, there must be one hell of a storm 
coming I think.  It's cascading down the window panes like a waterfall.  It 
seems never ending and then there is a bright flash of lightening and overhead 
a clap of thunder.  I don't think anyone would be able to sleep through this, 
the noise is terrific.

And yet, above it all I hear him scream my name.

Mulder.  Omigod.  Mulder.

I throw back the comforter and grab my robe from the end of the bed, not 
bothering with slippers I run to the connecting door of our motel room.  This 
is neither the time nor the place to knock so I push the door firmly and 
stride over to his bed.

He is sat up, his hands covering his face.  I try hard not to look as 
desperate as I feel when I reach him.  There is sweat pouring from him but he 
is shivering.  Another bad dream I think.  Pulling his robe from the end of 
the bed I motion to him to slip his arms in and then I pull it around him and 
tie it.  

There really is very little I can say to him, this is a regular occurrence 
when we are on cases together, and, I suspect as regular an occurrence when he 
is at home.  That's why he tries *not* to sleep.  But before I have time to 
say anything he slumps into my arms.

"Mulder?  Are you okay?"

Silence.

His arms are tight around me, holding on to that thin thread of sanity, when 
in the small hours of the morning it seems as if all sanity has fled the body 
and mind.  His head is down on my shoulder, his breathing laboured and I hear 
him saying he's sorry.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I'msosorry."

"Don't be Mulder.  Bad dream?"

He just nods and nestles closer into me.  I can feel his warmth encircling me 
and then he begins to shiver again.  I tighten my hold on him but it doesn't 
seem to work.  He is shaking, either with cold or with fear, or both.

Trying to soothe him, I loosen my grip on him and stroke his hair back from 
his forehead.  It is stuck with the wetness of his sweat and his eyes are shut 
tight. He is biting his bottom lip until I'm sure he will draw blood.  He is 
still pale and shaky.  But now he's tensed just a little.  He is getting it 
back under control and pushing me away.  I desperately want to help him but 
even if he wanted it, he is giving off signs of being able to cope again.

It was then that the storm broke.

Before we heard the clap of thunder there was an enormously bright flash of 
lightening which illuminated the small dark room.  Mulder jumps and clings on 
to me like a frightened child.  Deep down, emotionally, that is what he is.  A 
frightened child trying to be a man.  When he draws back from me I can see the 
terror in his eyes that the bright light had triggered.  My heart flips.  
Samantha.  The light reminded him of that night.  As soon as he sees that 
realization in my eyes he pulls away completely and I know I have lost him.  
Again.

Another clap of thunder and then another bright flash.  He winces and I put my 
hand out to comfort him.  He doesn't pull away.  Perhaps.  Just perhaps.

"You know Mulder, I used to be scared of the rain when I was little.  The 
thunder made me jump and I used to be in awe of the lightening, but the rain 
scared me."

"What did you do?"

At least he's speaking to me.

"I used to call Dad."  Why did I tell him that?  He wouldn't have called his 
Dad anyway.  And he probably wouldn't have been there or even come to him if 
he had.

"Oh."  He sounds passive, disinterested, but then he looks directly at me, 
realizing my loss and asks, "What had he used to do?"

Before I realize what I'm doing I slip under the comforter and hold him, he 
draws back a little, but reassuringly, for me, not too much.

"He would slip into bed with me and hold me.  Like this."  I encircle him with 
my arms again.

"Did you like that?"  There is a hint of sorrow and just the slightest tinge 
jealousy in his voice.

"It was warm and safe and because he wasn't always around it was all the more 
precious."

"I can understand that."

"Then he'd stay with me till morning.  He'd pull me into his arms like this 
and I'd rest my head on his chest."  The words were coming out and the actions 
to match them were being mirrored by Mulder.  He had slid down the bed and was 
resting his head against my shoulder and I was stroking his hair.

"What did he do then?"  It was the twelve year old boy speaking now.  That 
tinge of wonderment in the voice, as if you were in the middle of telling him 
a story and he wanted to know what happened on the next page before this one 
was finished.

"He would tell me to go to sleep and then he'd kiss my head, just like this 
and he would say, I love you."

I feel his body start and hear him swallow hard and then the dam breaks.  He 
sobs as I hold him as tightly as my small frame will allow.  Still I hear him 
continually telling me he is sorry.  Sorry for what?  Sorry for being human, 
for having feelings, having fears?

It takes some time before he is sufficiently composed to speak and all the 
time I soothe him with my arms and brush his brow, murmuring to him, stroking 
his back, comforting him.  I feel an immense sense of relief wash over me.  I 
have, in a roundabout fashion, told him how I feel.  Told him I love him.

"Thank you" he says at last.

"For what Mulder?"

He doesn't answer me for some time and then he turns to look at me.

"You have to be a very special person, to love someone, when you can see all 
of their fears.  To be able to help them through the night."

Did he mean me?  No.  He didn't --- did he?  Keep it on track Dana, keep on 
Dad.

"There's a special relationship between parent and child though isn't there?"  
Oh shit!  What in God's name did I say that for?  Have I lost all of my brains 
tonight?  Before I have chance to take any of it back he puts a finger to my 
lips.

"He was very special to you."  It was said matter-of-factly, leaving no room 
for apology.  I had been talking about my own relationship with my own father 
and he had taken that on board.  Had not balked because he did not have the 
same upbringing.  I choke back the grief of losing Dad and the emotion that 
the compassion in Mulder's voice has aroused in me.

"Yes he was."  I manage.

Almost as special as you are.
  
I wish I could tell you that.

As I lie here beside you terrified that what I feel is unique and 
non-returnable.  That you see me as someone to trust and someone to lean on 
when you need it.  Then you ditch me and I feel betrayed again.  But I still 
have these feelings for you, they never leave me, they burn within me, finding 
no release.  I think you needed to hear that I loved you.  I think I needed to 
hear me say that I loved you.  But is it a maternal love that you need?  Do 
you need me as a mother or could you need me as a woman?  Whichever role you 
want me to play though, I still think that you need me.  And that is enough 
for now to make me feel special.

"Thanks again."  He smiles at me now.

Perhaps this time he'll say what I want to hear as I ask, "What for?"

"Helping me through the night."

He tightens his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

I think I hear him murmur I love you.

I know that's what I want to hear.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All I remember was the light.  The goddamn light.  It was so bright, so harsh, 
so intense.  The light was all around me, and yet it shone through her as if 
she wasn't there.  As if she was invisible.  She was and she was not.  What 
was I to believe?  

And the light was gone and the noise was horrendous, it filled my head and all 
around me and she faded in and out of view, coming towards me, retreating.  
Holding out her hand to me to save her.  Or was she saving me?

I awoke with a gasp.  Her name on my lips.

"DANNNNNNNA."

And she was there.  As always.  She was there.  My rock.

I didn't see her come to me I just remember her sitting by me and then pulling 
my robe around me.  I was shaking, shivering with fear and anxiety.  I 
couldn't lose her.  I'd already lost someone I loved, I couldn't lose her too. 
 Not her.  Not my Scully.  Not my Dana.

I fell into her arms.  I couldn't help it.  The pain of my fear was so acute 
that I just wanted to physically reassure myself that she was real.  I buried 
my head on her shoulder, into the warmth of her hair and I nestled there.  
Content.  Safe.  Her small arms encompassing my huge frame, but it felt quite 
the reverse.  I felt so small and safe in her embrace.  I wish I could stay 
here forever.  I hold on to her.  Tightly.  All I can think to say is I'm 
sorry.

She's asking me if I'm okay.  I can't answer her.  My fear is choking me, all 
I want to do is feel her near.  She asks if I've had a bad dream, I just nod 
and nestle down further against her.  She'll think it's Samantha.  I can't 
tell her that it was about her.  She'll know the way I feel about her then.  I 
can't let her know.  I begin to shiver again.  

I feel her push me away, so gently, and she's pushing my hair away, stroking 
my brow as if I were a child.  I feel like a child when I'm afraid like this.  
But I don't want her to think that I'm a child wanting her as a mother.  That 
isn't so.  It's not what I want.  It's not what I want to give her.  I want to 
give myself to her as a man, and I can't.  I'm not whole enough to give myself 
to her.  Not yet.  One day.  When I can master my demons and ghosts without 
her.  But I wonder if I could ever do it without her?  She has changed my 
life.  Turned it upside down.  From that first day when she walked into the 
basement, my life has never been the same.  Never.  

My eyes are shut tight and I'm biting down on my lip just to try to stop 
myself telling her I love her.  Telling her my need of her.  My muscles tense 
in trying to contain myself and she releases me gently.  I expect she believes 
that I'm in control again and have no further need of her.  She couldn't be 
further from the truth.

Another flash of lightening, another clap of thunder.

My heart races.  Omigod.  The dream again.  She'll fade away again, I cling on 
to her for dear life and then she sees the fear in my eyes.  I pull away, 
she's read my thoughts.  I have to pull away from her.  I can't let her know 
how much she means to me.

Another flash of lightening, another clap of thunder.  I wince and she reaches 
out and touches my hand.  The lightest of gossamer touches, I should pull 
away, I know I should, but I don't want to.  My fear and my need of her 
override my senses.  She begins to talk to me.  She tells me how she was once 
afraid of the rain and how she would call her father to her in the night.   I 
see the pain she believes she has evoked talking about her childhood.  This 
pain has left me, replaced by nothing, no feeling.  Nothing.

She continues to tell me how her father would come to her in the night when 
she was afraid and slip into bed beside her and put his arms around her.  It 
seems so natural for me to mirror these actions as she says them and without 
thinking I am slipping down beside her, laying my head on her shoulder.  I ask 
her what her father did next and she kisses the top of my head.  Tells me he 
would have told her to go to sleep and then those immortal words.  I love you.


Could I dare to hope that she means those words for me?  I can no longer 
contain my emotion. I break down and sob in her arms.  She probably thinks 
it's because my parents didn't love me enough or they never told me so in the 
middle of the night when I was afraid.  That is part of it.  But the biggest 
part is so wanting those three words to be meant for me.  For her to love me.  
It's not important any more if anyone else loves me.  I crave her affection, 
her attention, her acceptance of me.  I crave her love.

I lie cradled in her arms until I can bring myself to speak to her.  All I can 
do is thank her.  She asks me what for.  I tell her how special someone has to 
be to continue to love another with all their fears exposed.  For a second she 
falters and then proceeds to tell me how important the parent/child 
relationship is.  Again I see her pain for me.  I put my finger to her lips, 
she should not be apologizing to me.  It was her childhood, her parents, her 
life.  There is no comparison.

"He was very special to you."  I say matter-of-factly.  I see the emotions 
played out one by one in her eyes before she answers me.

"Yes he was."

As special as I am to you I wonder?  I doubt it.  But you are so special to 
me.  I would die without you.  I am nothing without you.  If you left me, or I 
lost you, then my whole world would be nothing.  My feelings are beginning to 
overpower me.  I need her beside me.  Always.  I thank her again, and again 
she asks me what for.  I wish I could tell her that it is for caring about me. 
 I don't dare to hope that she loves me, but I know she cares deeply for me.  
When she asks me what for, I tell her, for helping me through the night.

I encircle her in my arms and kiss the top of her head.

I murmur I love you.

I wish to God she would hear me, because then I would never have to spend 
another night alone.

With my fears.

Without her.





THE END

"A beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings in 
vain."  
 From 'Shelley' by Matthew Arnold

Doesn't that just sum up Mulder's quest beautifully? 


Thank you for reading thus far.  Any comments to Yvonne_Richards@msn.com

If you enjoyed this and want more, my other stories are archived on Gossamer 
and  this
and future stories are also available on XFCreative  and XFF.

Adrift - Poem
A Desperate Search - Poem
Believe the Lie 1/1
Bring Him Home 1/1
Butterfly Kisses 1/1
Casting Out Demons 1/3
Do I Have a Choice Mulder? 1/1
Ghosts 1/5
Help Me Through the Night 1/1
Her Last Gift 1/1
Only on My Own 1/1
Silence of the Lamb 1/1
The Long Hard Road 1/1
The Unspoken Truth 1/5
Through Your Eyes 1/5
Twister 1/1
Who'll Stand Up for Me Now? 1/1