Title: All Dreams of the Soul: Genesis 1/4

Author: Tiger Lilly

E-Mail address: Tigerlillyme@yahoo.com

Rating: NC-17

Category: XA

Keyword: RAPE. Mulder/Scully. Scully/Krycek. 
Scully Angst. UST

Spoilers: 5th season

Summary: Scully experiences some unusual 
dreams. However, their effects on her are very 
real. And mysterious.
     

Disclaimer: Okay, we all know the words. So sing 
along. The characters Mulder, Scully, Skinner 
and the gang are all property of Chris Carter, 
1013 productions, Fox and probably several 
other huge corporations. I know that I am taking 
my life into my own hands by borrowing these 
characters for my romp into mind candy. Please, 
don't sue!
     

Warning: This story is NC-17 for language, adult 
situations, sexual content and RAPE. It's not 
pretty, but it drives this section of the story. I'm 
sorry if I offended anyone by including it, but I felt 
it was necessary.
   
  
Author's note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction. 
And I feel a little strange about coming out of the 
closet about my X-files obsession. This is the first 
of four installments. By the way, this really isn't a 
smutty romance, except in Scully's subconscious, 
so don't let the first scene of the story discourage 
you from continuing on.

     

Please send me your feedback at 
Tigerlillyme@yahoo.com. Be gentle on me. It's 
my first time out. And yes, I know Krycek has only 
one arm. You'll find out the reason why I did it in 
later installments. Okay to archive anywhere. Just 
please send me an e-mail so I'll know.

     


Genesis

     

     She was floating. A pool of crystalline water 
surrounded her. She could feel its darkness 
engulfing her, her body totally relaxed and 
rocking on gentle ripples.

     Slowly she was becoming aware of lips 
tenderly kissing her. His lips. Warm and wet like 
the water around her. She felt his body against 
hers, his hands in her hair. She sighed his name.

     "Oh, Mulder."

     His hazel eyes were coming into focus now, 
looking at her tenderly, lovingly. He caressed her 
cheek gently, water dripping down her face from 
his long, wet fingers. He bent his head forward to 
plant slow, soft kisses on her neck.

     "Oh, Mulder."

     She was becoming aware of his skin against 
hers. She realized they were naked, floating 
together on a sea of darkness. 

    "Oh, Mulder."

     Her hand felt every muscle in his back. She 
could feel his wet hair against her face. Smell his 
aftershave and shampoo. His hand reached 
down and caressed her breast. Tendrils of water 
snaked from her nipple to her stomach, causing 
her to quiver.

     "Oh, Mulder."

     Gradually, she became aware that the gentle 
ripples had taken on a new, subtle rhythm. He 
was making love to her. Slowly, gently. She felt 
him moving inside her. Her hands ran through his 
hair and down his back. She ached for him to go 
faster, harder. And he did.

     "Oh, Mulder!"

     His name became a chant as the ripples 
became crashing waves. They washed over her, 
warm and liquid. They were rocking, rocking, 
rocking...

     "OH, MUL..."

     

     Dana sat straight up in bed. Her eyes darted 
around her dark, empty bedroom. She was 
alone.

     "Jesus," she said, half-whispering in the dark.

     She slowly lowered herself back down to her 
pillow. Hesitantly, she glanced over at the alarm 
clock beside her bed. 3:15 am. She started to 
panic a little and closed her eyes to try and focus. 

     This was the 12th night it had happen. The 
dreams, so unbelievably real. She could 
remember every detail, every sensation. For a 
moment she almost thought she could taste his 
lips, smell his scent. She licked her lips and sadly 
realized the taste was gone. Evaporated into the 
darkness with her dream.

     It had been like this every night for over a 
week and a half. And always she woke up at 
3:15.

     Coincidence. Purely coincidence, she had told 
herself after the first few nights. But even then she 
didn't really believe it. After all that she had 
experienced, she was believing less and less in 
coincidence every day.

     Now she was searching her memory for any 
sort of medical reason or psychological condition 
that would cause her to have such vivid dreams 
and wake up again and again at the exact same 
time.

     It wasn't like she hadn't dreamed about Mulder 
before. Any time they were working on a stressful 
case, she dreamed about him making love to her. 
It was a natural release, she rationalized to 
herself. Her mind's unconscious way of dealing 
with stress. But these dreams were different, so 
unnerving. No case, no stress. Just piles and 
piles of tedious paperwork and expense reports.

     And these dreams were so real.

     She felt herself shudder in the darkness. She 
knew that she wouldn't be able to go back to 
sleep. Only lay there and stare at the ceiling. 
Suddenly, she was surprised to feel a hot, wet 
tear slide down her cheek. Jesus, she was crying.

     She hadn't even been aware of it. Why was 
she crying? she asked herself. She searched her 
feelings, slowly becoming aware of the pain that 
was building up in her chest. The lump that was 
rising in her throat. 

     It was because it was only a dream.

     


     Dana sighed a deep breath and looked at her 
watch. 4:45. Only a few more minutes to go. She 
lowered her glasses down her nose and rubbed 
her eyes.

     "You look tired."

     Mulder's voice almost startled her. All day, she 
had attacked the files around her, never even 
looking up at him. She told herself that it was 
because she wanted to get everything under 
control before the weekend, so she could relax. 
Deep down she knew it was because she 
couldn't look at him without replaying one of her 
many vivid dreams in her head.

     "Hot date last night, Scully?"

     She realized he was waiting for her to answer. 
To come back with some remark full of the 
innuendo and humor that had become their 
standard means of communication. But today, 
Dana didn't feel like being witty.

     She glanced up and caught a glimpse of his 
eyes. The same hazel eyes in her dreams. 
Suddenly, the latest image of him making love to 
her flashed through her mind. She quickly looked 
down at the file she was reading, trying to keep 
her face as blank as possible.

     "No, Mulder, only a long day here." She had 
tried to say it dryly. She thought she had pulled it 
off.

     "Are you okay? Are you sleeping okay?"

     He had said it with genuine concern, but she 
felt a little angry at the question. How many 
months had she sat here in this office, dying of 
cancer, waiting for him to ask if she was okay and 
really want the answer? She heard his voice in 
her memory casually disregard her fears. "...But 
you're okay, aren't you, Scully?" She felt her face 
redden. She reread the same line for the 5th 
time.

     "Yes, Mulder. I'm fine. Just a little tired."

     She heard him shift in his chair. She didn't 
have to look up to know that he was leaning 
back, studying her intently with his eyes. 

     Read the damn file, Dana, she told herself.

     "Scully, why can't you look at me?"

     Her heart stopped. Mulder usually wasn't so 
astute. Why did he have to pick now to suddenly 
become less self-absorbed? She felt the terror 
and emotion from last night rising in her throat 
again. She had to get control. Find that wall that 
she kept up against him most of the time, keeping 
herself from feeling anything more than she could 
handle. Why the hell was she so worried about it 
anyway? They were only dreams. A piece of her 
unconsciousness that she had no control over. 

     She knew she had to answer him, and she 
better make it convincing this time.

     "I don't know what you're talking about." She 
had tried to make it sound like she was 
preoccupied, totally focused on the file in front of 
her. Instead it had come out a little angry. And 
guilty.

     She heard him stand up from behind his desk 
and walk towards her. His footsteps echoed 
through the office. Damn basement. Nothing to 
absorb sound. Only hard walls and cold tile 
floors.

     She was aware that he was standing over her. 
She could hear him breathing. Her heart raced. 
Get control, Dana. He was standing above her, 
and all she could do was think about 
redecorating the basement.

     He reached down under her chin and lifted her 
face up. She desperately tried to resist the urge 
to jerk her face away. She needed to find that 
wall. Badly. 

     Once again she saw his eyes. They were filled 
with concern, studying her face. She looked 
around his face, searching for a place to rest her 
eyes that was safe. She found herself gazing at 
his chin.

     "You're not telling me the truth, Scully." 

     He sounded concerned and a little pissed. 
She knew that was the one thing that really made 
him angry with her, hiding the truth when 
something scared the hell out of her. 

     She had to think of something to tell him. 
Some version of the truth. Something that he 
wouldn't pry about. The lie came to her quickly. 
She would tell him she was having nightmares. 
About dying of cancer again. She knew he would 
retreat at the mere mention of it. 

     She took a deep breath and opened her 
mouth to speak. Then it hit her.

     His smell. The aftershave, the shampoo. 
Suddenly, her senses overloaded, and she felt 
herself getting lightheaded. She grabbed hold of 
the table with both hands.

     "No!" She jerked her head away to look at the 
filing cabinets. She was on autopilot now. Not in 
control as she pushed herself away from the 
table, grabbed her jacket, and headed towards 
the door. She was sweating. She couldn't 
breathe. She had to get out of there.

     His hand grabbing her arm brought her slightly 
back to reality. She jerked her arm away, never 
letting her gaze leave the door. She swallowed 
hard to get the words out. Her throat was so dry it 
was sore.

     "I don't feel well, Mulder. I'm going home." She 
said it as she walked towards the door, trying 
hard to sound calm, trying hard not to let her 
heart pound out of her chest. She slung open the 
office door and felt the cold air of the hall hit her 
face. She concentrated on taking determined 
steps, not letting herself completely lose it until 
she was safely in her car.

     Leaning forward on the steering wheel, with 
her head in her arms, tears threatening to stream 
down her cheeks, she could picture him standing 
behind her in the office, watching her walk out, 
looking shocked and frightened. She was glad 
she hadn't looked back.

     

     

     She was lying face down on her bed, drifting 
in the nowhere place that exist between asleep 
and awake. Her brother Bill had called it dizzy-
dosing. And that was exactly how it felt.

     She was falling, falling, sinking deeper into 
her mattress, unable to move or think about 
anything other than the air swirling around her. 

     She suddenly knew she wasn't alone. She felt 
his breath on her neck, his body lowering down 
on her. He stretched out over her, his hands 
following the path of her arms, interlocking his 
fingers around her own.

     She arched her back up against him, felt his 
lips kissing the back of her neck. She didn't have 
to open her eyes to know who it was. It was 
Mulder. There was no one else but Mulder.

     Funny, she expected him to feel heavy on top 
of her. Instead he only felt warm and protective. 
She was dreaming again, wasn't she?

     She smiled to herself, and his hands moved 
down her sides, over her hips and thighs. He 
gently lifted her nightshirt up around her waist, 
allowing his hands to caress her buttocks and 
back.

     She muffled a moan in the back of her throat. 
For some unexplained reason, she knew she 
couldn't make a sound or the spell would be 
broken.

     He pushed himself in her, slowly thrusting. His 
hot breath was still on her neck, his hands on her 
hips, pulling her to him. She felt him fill her, and 
she tried desperately not to speak his name. 
Make a sound and the dream is over. 

     Again and again, he rocked into her. She 
instinctively followed his rhythm, trying to make 
the feeling last forever. She felt her body moving, 
her back arching, her wet crotch starting to spasm 
around him.

     His face nuzzled beside her ear. One hand 
reached under her and grabbed her breast, 
massaging it gently. And he said it.

     "I love you, Scully."

     

     Dana gasped and pushed her torso off the 
bed. She was lying there, just like her dream, 
stomach down, her nightshirt up around her 
waist, her crotch wet. She was panting. Her heart 
was racing.

     Outside rain was pounding against the 
window. The wind howled and thunder crashed 
in the distance.

     She didn't want to look at the clock, but 
couldn't stop herself from confirming what she 
already knew.

     3:15.

     She flipped over on her back, trying to 
concentrate on slowing her breathing. Trying to 
calm down. What the hell was going on? 

     She sat up and swung her legs off the bed. 
The last thing she needed to do was lay there, 
where he had just fucked her in her dream. 

     She walked into the dark living room. In the 
corner of the room, she saw the answering 
machine blinking. She closed her eyes and 
remembered the worried messages he had left 
on her machine that evening.

     "Scully, please. Call me."

     She had just sat there, listening to the phone 
ring, listening to the sound of his voice. Wishing 
she could tell him, but also knowing she couldn't.

     Thank God she didn't have to look at him until 
Monday morning.

     She slowly eased herself onto the couch and 
grabbed the remote. She flipped on the 
television, turning her head and squinting until 
her eyes adjusted to the light. She laid back and 
flipped. Channel after channel. Watching nothing. 
Wanting only to forget the dreams.

     Suddenly, she became aware of what she was 
doing. Laying on the sofa in the middle of the 
night, flipping through the channels rather than 
sleeping. Haunted by her dreams.

     God, Dana, she thought, half laughing at the 
irony of it. You've become just like Mulder.

     

     

     Saturday's were always lonely, but this one 
was the worst. Dana wandered wearily around 
her apartment, trying to find things to occupy her 
mind. She knew she needed to rest, but she 
couldn't bring herself to lay back down on her 
bed. The dreams were still that real to her.

     She cleaned out drawers, closets, vacuumed. 
Thinking about anything other than the inevitable. 
She knew she would have to sleep, eventually. 
She was just too tired to deal with it right away.

     After an unnecessary trip to the market to get 
groceries she didn't really need, Dana decided 
that the fatigue was more than she could take. 

     This is ridiculous, her tired mind thought. Just 
go in there and take a nap.

     She looked at the bed, so inviting, so 
comfortable. It had betrayed her the night before. 
But she had to erase that from her mind. Besides, 
the longer she stayed up, the more the dreams 
invaded her thoughts.

     She looked at her watch. 6:30 pm. She could 
play it safe. Lay down now, go to sleep, and wake 
up in plenty of time to miss 3:15. She had to 
admit to herself, she was letting this get to her. 
Besides, it wouldn't help her to be exhausted on 
Monday morning when she had to explain her 
sudden and uncharacteristic departure to Mulder.

     She trudged into the bedroom, pulled back the 
covers, and laid down on the bed. Dana closed 
her eyes and waited for sleep to overtake her. 
Behind the darkness of her eyelids, she let 
herself relax. Her mind wander. And it wandered 
to Mulder, the way his hands touched her in her 
dreams. The wonderful way it all felt. 

     Her eyes flew open. She felt panicked again. 
She could not let this unconscious fantasy enter 
her consciousness, too. 

     She stood up and walked into the bathroom. 
Somewhere, she had some sleeping pills 
stashed. A prescription she had written herself to 
help her sleep after Emily's death. God, she 
hoped she hadn't throw them away in her 
cleaning frenzy earlier. 

     They were there, in the medicine cabinet over 
the sink. She took two pills in her hand, filled a 
glass with water, and swallowed them down. 

     When she closed the medicine cabinet, she 
took a good look at her face in the mirror. She did 
look tired. Dark circles surrounded her eyes. The 
skin on her face actually seemed to droop. Every 
thing about her looked tired, even the smile she 
tried to give herself.

     On Monday, she would make an appointment 
to see a psychologist. Not one of those mumbo-
jumbo hypnotists that Mulder seemed so crazy 
about. Someone respectable, maybe someone 
who specialized in sleep disorders. 

     Am I losing my mind? She took relief in asking 
herself the question. Just the fact that she thought 
of it probably meant that she wasn't. Dana 
wanted to get this under control before she lost 
the ability to ask.

     

     

     She was running. She was outside, on some 
nameless street, in her nightshirt and bare feet, 
running. She was trying to get away from 
someone, but she didn't know who.

     Am I dreaming again? she asked herself. She 
seemed positive of it, but the terror building within 
her told her that she had to get away.

     She ran, hearing footsteps behind her. A man 
was chasing her, coming after her. The terror in 
her heart told her that it wasn't Mulder. It was 
someone she was horribly afraid of, someone 
who was going to hurt her.

     She tripped and fell, her head and body 
crashing into the pavement. She felt blood 
running down her cheek. She tried to get up, but 
he was already upon her.

     The man behind her jumped on top of her and 
held her to the ground. Her hands were clawing 
at the pavement, her legs kicking, trying to free 
herself.

     Wake up, she told herself. Just wake up.

     She could feel his hands grab her arms and 
pin them behind her back. She raised up her 
head to scream, to call for Mulder to help her, but 
he took one of his hands free and pushed her 
face hard back into the ground. Dana's heart was 
racing.

     Wake up. Wake up now.

     She felt the blood on her face, the terror in her 
throat. Her knees were throbbing and bloody 
from her efforts to push away. She tried to twist 
around to see who was overpowering her.

     Then she froze. He was lifting up her nightshirt 
and tugging down the waistband of her 
underwear. She suddenly realized what he was 
trying to do.

     She tried to free her hands, to roll over and 
defend herself, to run, but he was stronger and 
bigger. He was holding both her hands behind 
her back with one of his, plus applying enough 
pressure on her back to make it impossible for 
her to move. His grip was maniacal. She felt the 
hard pavement underneath her, the painful way it 
was digging into her skin. His other hand 
grabbed hold of her shoulder and roughly held 
her while he pushed himself into her.

     Dana managed to turn her head sideways and 
scream the most blood-curling scream 
imaginable. She knew no one heard. 

     The pain was excruciating. She felt herself 
ripping, her legs scrapping against the rough 
road. Hot tears streamed down her face. She was 
still screaming.

     Why can't I wake up? Oh God, please let me 
wake up!

     She felt him grab her shoulder hard and 
ejaculate into her. She could hear him panting. 
For a moment, his hold on her lessened.

     Dana took her chance. She broke loose of 
him, put her feet underneath her, and started to 
run. She hadn't gone more than a few feet when 
he grabbed her around her arms and waist, 
tackling her with all his weight. She crashed once 
again into the pavement. She felt her shoulder 
crack, her mouth bleed. Her breath was gone.

     "We're not done."

     That voice. She vaguely knew that voice. He 
grabbed her shoulders and roughly turned her 
over. The pain from her shoulder made her 
scream out again. 

     In the darkness, she couldn't recognize the 
face immediately. She was still struggling, 
scraping her back against the street. He had his 
hands on her shoulders, holding her down. He 
sat down on top of her, hard, making it impossible 
to breathe. His knees held her hands down. Her 
legs were still kicking.

     "I said, we're not done!"

     He leaned his face in closer, and she got a 
good look at him. And she gasped as her mind 
put the face with a name. Krycek! Alex Krycek! He 
was leaning in, trying to roughly force his lips on 
hers. Dana bit his bottom lips as hard as she 
could. She tasted his blood in her mouth.

     "God damn, bitch!" he yelled. His face was full 
of rage. He reached up and touched the blood 
oozing from his bottom lip. Then he leapt to his 
feet and began kicking her. 

     Dana curled up into a ball, her arms covering 
her head. He was kicking her full force in the ribs. 
She felt herself gasping for air. She felt her face 
contort with pain.

     Wake up!

     

     Suddenly, she realized she was lying in her 
bed. She was still gasping, trying to breathe, 
curled up in a ball, tears streaming down her 
face. 

     What the hell is going on? she asked herself in 
panic. She swore she could still feel the blood on 
her face as it was in the dream. 

     Slowly, through her terror, she began to 
become aware of something else. Pain. She was 
in horrible pain. It was increasing every second, 
becoming more and more unbearable. 

     She moved to lift herself off the bed and let out 
a scream. Just moving made the pain increase 
tenfold. She now could feel her swollen lip, her 
bloody knees and back. The pain in her shoulder, 
between her legs. 

     She felt unconsciousness trying to overtake 
her. She knew she was going into shock and had 
to stay alert long enough to get help. Her hand 
reached out for the phone beside the bed, 
knocked the receiver off, and hit the redial button.

     She didn't know who she had called last from 
this phone. She didn't really care. She heard the 
phone dialing and began to ring. She tried to 
count the rings to keep her mind off the pain. It 
was becoming harder and harder to stay 
conscious. 

     It seem to ring for an eternity. And then she 
heard his sleepy, irritated voice answer the 
phone. She realized she had called Mulder's cell 
phone.

     "Do you know what time it is? This better be 
good."

     And she screamed his name, at the same time 
being pulled into the long, dark tunnel of 
unconsciousness.

     

     

     Dana was becoming slowly aware of stripes of 
alternating light and dark. The pattern slowly 
focused into venetian blinds, letting bits of light 
through the window. Her eyes blinked. She 
wasn't sure where she was. 

     She slowly tried to turn her head. It hurt to 
move. She sucked in air at the wave of pain. That 
hurt, too.

     Her mother's concerned face came into her 
view above her. 

     "Dana, does it hurt? Are you in pain?"

     Dana slowly tried to nod. She saw her mother 
reach across her.

     "I'm calling the nurse. Try not to move."

     She closed her eyes tight and obeyed. Her 
mind was racing. Nurse? Was she in a hospital? 
Her heart jumped until she remembered her 
cancer was in remission. Then what had 
happened? Dana searched her memory for the 
events that brought her here. She drew a blank.

     She heard a female voice ask if they needed 
anything. She realized from the sound that it was 
coming from the call speaker. Her mother 
answered.

     "Dana's awake, and she seems to be in a lot of 
pain."

     A lot was an understatement. Every breath 
hurt, and her head throbbed.

     "Someone will be right there," the nurse 
answered calmly. She sounded as if she was 
speaking through a tin can.

     She felt her mother pat her hand gently. 
"Someone will be right here," she repeated.

     Dana opened her eyes. She had to know. Had 
she been shot? Had this happened on a case? 

     "Mom," she whispered. "What..." Her voiced 
trailed off with a whimper. It hurt to talk.

     "You're in North Georgetown University 
Hospital, baby. An ambulance brought you here 
early this morning, after..." Dana saw her mother 
pause, searching for the right words. Her face 
was full of as much emotional pain as Dana felt. 
"...After you were beaten. You..."

     Her mother stopped speaking abruptly as 
Dana heard the door swish open. She saw a 
nurse's face move in beside her mother's. 

     "The doctor ordered morphine before he left," 
the nurse said dryly. "Let me know if this doesn't 
help." 

     The nurse leaned down beside her. Dana 
could tell that she was injecting the pain killer into 
an IV in her hand. How many CCs she 
wondered? The nurse disappeared from her line 
of vision, only to return with a blood pressure cuff.

     "Just need to check your vitals while I'm here." 

     Dana felt the cuff slip around her arm and 
heard the inflation of the automatic gauge. She 
looked over at her mother, searching her face for 
the answers she needed. The only thing she 
could read in her mom's face was discomfort and 
tension.

     Slowly, she felt the warmth of the morphine 
envelope her. The pain when she breathed 
slipped into the background, still there, but 
bearable. She could at least think more clearly.

     Dana heard the door swish close as the nurse 
left. Her mother looked down at her and touched 
her forehead. She was searching for the right 
words. Dana could read every bit of indecision on 
her face. 

     "Fox Mulder found you," she said after a long 
pause. 

     Made sense. He was her partner after all. But 
what case had they been working on? Who had 
beaten her? She could only hazily remember 
lying on the ground being kicked.

     "Mom, I don't remember." It wasn't the first time 
she had found herself in this hospital, saying 
those words to her mother. "Where did he find 
me?"

     "In your apartment, Dana. In your bedroom." 

     There was something her mother was hiding 
from her. She could tell, but she didn't feel like 
pressing her. She just wanted to close her eyes. 
The morphine was making her head spin.

     "You have a bad concussion." Her mother was 
trying to make her understand why she didn't 
remember. She didn't really care, she just 
wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. 
Instinctively, without thinking, she started to roll 
over on her side, to curl up in her usual sleeping 
position. She had barely moved sideways when 
she felt the pain. It cut into her like a hot knife, 
throbbing and sharp all at one time. She cried 
out, immediately coming back down from her 
morphine high.

     "Baby, you can't roll over." Her mother was 
grabbing her arm and gently rolling her back onto 
her back. "You have a dislocated shoulder and 5 
broken ribs on that side."

     Jesus, Dana thought. Who in the hell did this 
to me? She closed her eyes again and waited for 
the pain to move away, as it had before. As she 
lay there, something her mother said struck her 
as strange. She opened her eyes and gathered 
enough strength to ask.

     "Mom...why did Mulder find me in my 
apartment?" She knew now she had been laying 
on the ground outside, on hard pavement, her 
body screaming in pain as the phantom foot 
slammed up against her over and over. 

     Her mother didn't answer. She was looking 
away, staring at something on the wall above the 
bed. Dana asked another way.

     "What case were we working on...when I was 
attacked in my apartment?"

     Her mother looked back down at her daughter 
tenderly. Dana could see the pools of tear in her 
eyes. She knew something about this was very 
bad. Really bad.

     "The FBI is trying to determine if this had 
anything to do with any of the cases you've 
worked on." Her mother's voice sounded 
strained.

     Any of the cases she'd worked on? This made 
no sense. Come on mom, she thought. Give me 
more credit than this. Whatever it is, you know I 
can take it. "Mom, I need to know."

     Her mother took a deep, slow breath. She 
looked down at Dana, and started to quietly 
speak.

     "Fox found you alone in your apartment 
around 4 this morning. He said he came over 
because you had called him, screaming for his 
help."

     Dana nodded slightly. She suddenly regained 
a glimpse of the memory of calling Mulder. She 
heard herself screaming out his name. None of 
this makes any sense, she thought. I was 
attacked outside, I'm sure of it. 

     Her mother must have read the confusion on 
her face, because she took another deep breath 
and continued. "Dana, do you remember 
anything that happened. Anything at all?"

     Dana closed her eyes and tried to remember. 
The image of her running in terror popped into 
her mind. 

     "I was running. I was running away." Her 
mother nodded, listening to her words. She was 
stroking her hand lightly. "I was running and..." 
Her voice trailed off as the image of her laying 
pinned on the ground flashed in her mind. She 
remembered the pain of the pavement digging 
into her face. "I was outside. I'm sure of it."

     Her mother looked confused. "No, sweetheart, 
Fox said the FBI is sure that whoever did this to 
you did it while you were in bed. They came in 
while you slept."

     While I slept, while I slept. She turned the 
words over and over in her mind. Had she been 
asleep? She closed her eyes and tried to 
remember again.

     It hit her like a freight train. The dreams. She 
was having another dream. The whole dream 
flooded back to her. She felt herself falling on the 
ground, the man pinning her down, her hands 
held behind her back, him...

     "Oh God." Dana eyes shot open. The tears 
streaming down her mother's cheeks was all the 
confirmation she needed. Hot tears began 
streaming down her own face, a lump rose in her 
throat. She needed to scream.

     "Oh God," was all Dana could say, over and 
over.

     

     

     The nurse had given her something to help 
her sleep, to sedate her. If it hadn't been for that, 
she didn't think she would have made it through 
the night. But here it was, the next morning. She 
open her eyes, still feeling drugged, and found 
Mulder sitting in a chair beside her bed.

     "Rise and shine sleepy-head. I was beginning 
to think you were going to sleep all day." She 
could tell he was trying to his best to sound 
upbeat.

     She rubbed her eyes with a hand covered by 
IV tubes. She had expected to see him here 
sometime today. Mulder never stayed away too 
long when she was hospitalized. The last time 
they had seen each other, her sudden and 
emotional departure, seemed like a distant 
memory. She was confident that he wouldn't ask 
her about it.

     "I thought you might like a little company. That 
is, if I meet your approval." He smiled a boyish 
grin at her. 

     She opened her mouth to speak and found 
she could only whisper. Her throat was so dry it 
hurt. 

     "Mulder, can you get me some water?" She 
had barely managed to whisper it, but he jumped 
up and started pouring her a glass from the 
pitcher on the bedside table. He slipped his cool 
hand gently behind her neck and raised her head 
up. He put the cup to her lips and supported her 
head while she drank. The water felt cool and 
soothing on her throat. She closed her eyes and 
savored it.

     "Enough?" he asked. She opened her eyes to 
find his face hovering over her. Once again he 
was just a little too close to her. It unnerved her a 
little, but she knew Mulder had a bad habit of 
invading her personal space. 

     "Yes." She pushed the feeling of him being too 
close into the back of her mind.

     He popped the cup back on the table and sat 
back down, leisurely stretching his long legs out 
in front of him.

     She looked at him, sitting in the chair beside 
her bed, looking back at her. He's wearing jeans, 
she thought. Why would he be wearing jeans? 
She knew it was Monday. Wasn't he going to 
work today?

     She sighed at the thought of him spending the 
day sitting beside her bed, talking endlessly 
about animal mutilations or whatever else 
interested him from this week's National 
Enquirer. Inside, one part of her shuddered at the 
prospect of it, another part of her felt a strange 
delight in it.

     "So, Scully. What's new?"

     Dana turned her head a little and squinted at 
him suspiciously. He was sitting back in the chair, 
looking very casual. What the hell did he mean 
what was new? He had to know what had 
happen to her. Did he want all the details too?

     "Oh, Mulder, I don't know. What's new with 
you?" She could play the game back just as well. 
She knew time had taught him that.

     "Well..." she watched Mulder's face darken a 
little. "Not much except I found you in your 
apartment yesterday morning with the shit beaten 
out of you." She was startled. He had gone right 
in for the kill. She hadn't expected it. 

     He leaned in towards her, touched her arm, 
and gently said, "Skinner wanted to send some 
other bozo down here to take a statement from 
you. I told him I was the bozo for the job."

     She knew that it hadn't been that easy. He 
probably had a shouting match with Skinner over 
it. He had done it because he thought she'd be 
more comfortable telling him the details. She was 
sure of it. But she wasn't sure that she really 
could be comfortable telling him anything.

     She looked away from him and noticed the 
other two agents in dark suits standing in the 
doorway.

     "Don't worry about them, Scully. There just 
here to write anything you say down. You know I 
never take notes." She felt his hand pull her face 
back towards him, and she found herself looking 
directly into his eyes.

     Those hazel eyes.

     Dana squinted her eyes shut, but she was too 
late. A tear streamed down her cheek.

     "I can come back later if you want me to." His 
voice sounded more than a little bit uneasy. She 
wondered if it was because she looked like she 
was going to cry.

     "No, Mulder." She took a deep breath and 
regained control. " I want to get this over with."

     Where should she begin? How much did they 
need to know for their investigation? She 
decided to tell them everything about the night of 
her attack. Nothing more. Nothing about the other 
dreams. She took a deep breath.

     "I was outside, Mulder. On a street. Running in 
only my pajamas."

     She could tell by the look on his face that he 
wasn't buying it.

     "Scully, I found you in your apartment in bed. 
You had used the phone beside the bed to call 
me. There was blood all over it, and the receiver 
was still off the hook. No evidence has been 
found that suggests a crime was committed 
anywhere else in or around your apartment."

     God, Dana thought, he sounded just like her. 

     "No, Mulder, you don't understand. I was in 
bed. But I was also outside. I had to be."

     He looked at her puzzled. She could hear the 
other agents in the background scribbling notes. 
She knew it was too late to make up another 
story. She had already gone too far into this one. 
They'll think I'm crazy, she thought. She could 
hear herself saying it to Mulder on case after 
case,"Typical case of post-traumatic stress 
disorder...Obviously delusional." She knew it 
sounded crazy, but she also knew that she 
wasn't. Suddenly, she was glad that Mulder was 
there. He was the only one who would 
understand. 

     Here it goes, she thought. 

     "Mulder, I've been having some abnormal 
dreams." The way she said it, it sounded so 
clinical, so completely different from how she 
really felt about it. She was hoping she would be 
able to continue to separate herself from the 
reality of it.

     "What kind of dreams?" He was leaning back 
in his chair, smiling. Jesus, Mulder, she thought 
glancing at the agents in the doorway. Not 
everybody understands the sexual innuendo that 
enters our private conversations. 

     Then she pushed the thought floating through 
the back of her mind further back. There was no 
way he could suspect what she had been 
dreaming about.

     "No, Mulder, I'm serious. These dreams, 
they're unusual."

     "What do you mean?"

     "I mean, they seem real. Really real. I'm 
dreaming, but I'm not." She looked at him. She 
still wasn't making him understand. "I was 
outside. I was running. I knew I was in my bed 
and dreaming, but I was also outside running. I 
was both."

     Mulder squinted his eyes a little. She could tell 
he was thinking about what she had said.

     "Go on, Scully."

     "I was running down the street, and I knew 
immediately that I was being chased." She was 
pleased at how detached she was seeming, how 
she was able to call up the events without 
actually feeling anything about them. "I fell and 
the perpetrator attacked me from behind. I knew I 
was asleep, and I tried to wake up, but I couldn't."

     She expected him to make some comment 
about the significance of dreams. About how 
Native American believe that dreams are only 
another level of reality. Or some other outlandish 
theory incorporating everything she was telling 
him into one huge assumption that would border 
on the absurd. 

     Instead, all he said was "What happened 
next?"

     She didn't know how she was going to tell the 
rest and remain so completely detached. But she 
had to give it a try.

     "The perpetrator forcibly held me to the 
ground. My attempts to defend myself and 
escape were..." Her voice trailed off. 

     Oh, Mulder, she thought, how am I going to 
say this?

     She started again, quietly. She was talking 
just to him this time. "He held me down, Mulder. 
He pinned my arms behind my back. I couldn't 
scream or get away. And then he..." Her voice 
wavered on the last part. And she felt it again. 
The lump in her throat, the tears pooling in her 
eyes.

     "Scully, you have to tell us what happened 
next. We have to have it in your own words." He 
was leaning very close to her, almost whispering 
in her ear. For a brief moment, it reminded her of 
the dream where he confessed his love. "You can 
do this, Scully," he whispered. Somehow, she 
gathered the strength to clinch her teeth and say 
it.

     "He...raped me." She was biting her lip, 
holding back the tears.

     "Full penetration?" a voice said from the front 
of the room. 

     She knew very well they knew the answer to 
that question. She closed her eyes. She didn't 
want to see Mulder's face when she answered.

     "Yes."

     "Were you penetrated anywhere else but 
vaginally?" another voice asked.

     Another question she knew they knew the 
answer to. 

     "No." She felt Mulder's hand rubbing her arm. 
And the tear streaming down her cheeks anyway.

     "And the beating came before or after he 
violated you?" 

     Violated, violated. The word sounded so 
innocent for what he had done.

     "After," Dana said through her tears. Her voice 
was shaking. She was about to lose all control. 

     "Agent Scully, did you recognize your 
attacker?" one of the voices asked.

     Dana couldn't answer. She felt herself let out a 
huge wail and break into uncontrollable sobbing. 
She tried to put her hands up to her face to cover 
her closed eyes. She felt Mulder arms wrap 
around her, hugging her. She lifted her head off 
the pillow to rest it on his shoulder and wrapped 
her arms around his neck. Regardless of the pain 
it took to do it, she had to have someone to hold 
on to while she cried. She knew she was only 
going to let herself cry about this one more time, 
and she was going to make it good.

     She heard the other two agents leave the 
room, shutting the door behind them. 

     And she held on to Mulder and sobbed 
uncontrollably. 

     

     

     Dana laid on the floor in front of the fireplace in 
her apartment looking up at the ceiling. She had 
been home from the hospital for exactly 57 
minutes. And she just laid there, looking up at the 
ceiling, her face expressionless, her arms 
stretched out from her sides.

     She had already tried to get comfortable in 
every chair, on the sofa, sitting up, laying back. 
Nothing seemed to work. The floor had been her 
last option, and now she laid there, staring hard 
at the cracks in the ceiling, trying to feel nothing.

     She was still in a good deal of pain, she 
admitted to herself. Nothing like when she first 
woke up at the hospital, but it still hurt to move. 
She could feel how cold the floor was through 
her shirt. 

     "Dana," her mother called out from the 
bedroom. "I'm going to take your laundry home 
with me."

     "Okay, Mom." Whatever. Just don't make me 
think about anything else.

     She hadn't gone into the bedroom yet. She 
hoped to ease herself into it, waiting until she 
was alone. She knew her mother had come here 
yesterday, to remove the rest of the reminders of 
what happened. She imagined her scrubbing 
away the black smears where the crime lab had 
dusted for fingerprints, throwing away anything 
that she couldn't clean.

     She could hear her mother making the bed. 
She would have needed to go out and buy a new 
comforter and pillows, Dana thought. She knew 
that if the bed was as blood-stained as Mulder 
had implied to her, all the linens and pillows 
would have been confiscated as evidence. And 
the nightshirt and panties she had worn probably 
were now in evidence as well.

     Her hand reached up and lightly touched the 
stitches in the middle of her forehead. Four 
stitches. From where she had fallen in the dream. 
Last night was the first time she had seen her 
face in a mirror, and it had shocked her. She 
hadn't expected the swelling and bruises to be so 
bad on her face. But one whole side of her head 
was black, purple and yellow. She knew from 
looking that she was lucky to only have suffered a 
concussion . 

     "Dana," her mother's concerned face suddenly 
blocked the view of the ceiling. "Are you sure you 
don't want to come home with me?"

     "Yes, Mom." She said it blankly, her face like a 
statue. She was lying, she knew that. But she had 
also insisted that her mother bring her here rather 
than take her to her house. And she wasn't 
backing down now.

     "Well, at least let me stay with you. I can sleep 
on the sofa."

     "No, I'll be fine." Dana let her eyes met her 
mother's. "Really." If I don't stay here alone 
tonight, she added to herself, I probably never 
will.

     Her mother retreated back into the bedroom to 
finish unpacking Dana's things from the hospital.

     Dana systematically went back over the 
discharge instructions the nurse had given her 
before her release. She had tried to tell her that it 
wasn't necessary, that she was a physician and 
was aware of her limitations, but the nurse had 
kept on talking. She heard her words, "No lifting 
or exertion for 3 weeks. You need to spend as 
much of your time as possible flat on your back." 
Dana almost laughed in her face at that one. She 
knew that as soon as she could move around 
without a great amount of pain, she would be 
back at work.

     She had only this morning gotten her hands 
on her chart. The nurse had left it lying on the 
bedside table while she went to get her pen. 
Dana knew that they were trying to keep 
whatever was in that chart hidden from her. But 
she told herself she could handle it and read as 
much of it as she could while the nurse was 
gone.

     She hadn't realized how bad her condition 
was when she arrived in the ER. Dangerously 
low blood pressure, labored breathing, 
unresponsive, a classic case of advanced shock. 
She read the description of the procedures they 
had performed on her, the dry way the ER record 
noted that she had "vaginally tearing and 
bruising consistent with forcible penetration." 
They had removed asphalt from her knees and 
back and under her nails. 

     No evidence of a crime committed anywhere 
other than her bedroom? she thought to herself. 
Mulder, you are so full of shit. She smiled a little 
at that thought.

     For a moment, she tried to image what he had 
seen the night he burst in, responding to her 
scream on the phone. She imagined him with his 
gun drawn, calling her name. She could see his 
hand searching for the light switch beside the 
door, calling her again when she didn't answer. 
She tried to picture herself laying in a ball on the 
bed, unconscious, covered in her own blood. And 
she cringed a little when she realized her panties 
were probably around her ankles and her 
nightshirt was probably pulled up her back. He 
had to know immediately what had happen.

     The ER had gone through the usual 
procedures, the rape kit, the x-rays. She had 
required 2 sutures to close the tearing the rape 
had caused. The discharge nurse had needlessly 
informed her that those would dissolve in a few 
weeks, but the ones on her forehead would need 
to be removed by her regular physician in a 
week. 

     She noted from her chart that all the usually 
tests for venereal disease had been run, coming 
back negative, but a round of precautionary 
antibiotics had been given to her anyway. She 
knew in a few months she would have to submit 
herself to another HIV-test. She pushed that 
thought from her mind.

     "You'll need to make an appointment with your 
gynecologist in a few weeks, to make sure you've 
healed completely," she heard the discharge 
nurse say in her mind. "We strongly recommend 
that you also have a pregnancy test at that time."

     Dana didn't have the heart to tell her that a 
pregnancy test was a waste of time, that she 
couldn't get pregnant even if she wanted to. But 
she just nodded compliantly.

     She pulled away from this thought, thankful 
that her mother was talking to her again.

     "I'm putting your pain medicine on the sink in 
the bathroom."

     "That's fine," she called back. She wasn't 
planning on taking any of it anyway.

     She wondered what would happen when she 
went to sleep tonight. Would she dream as she 
had those 14 nights in a row? And would it be the 
Mulder dreams or another attacker? Somehow, 
she had come to accept the dreams as real. And 
almost feel they were some inevitable force that 
she had no resistance to. The dreams of Mulder 
that had upset her so much that last afternoon at 
work had suddenly become a quiet sanctuary for 
her. They eased her mind, gave her some relief. 
Not having anything but normal dreams in the 
hospital had also helped, giving her some 
perspective. 

     She hadn't told anyone about the Mulder 
dreams. She knew she would ask him about 
them someday, if he had remembered dreaming 
the same things. But not now. Their relationship 
was too awkward and uncomfortable. And she 
knew he would just try to read alot more into it 
than she was ready to admit. She didn't need that 
right now.

     "Dana," her mother was back in the room with 
her. "I don't know if I should leave you here."

     Dana realized how she must look, lying there 
on the floor, with an almost catatonic stare on her 
face. Snap out of it, she thought. You're scaring 
her.

     "Mom," she said forcing a little smile. "I don't 
need you scurrying around here all week, 
treating me like a 5-year-old. I'll be fine." Besides, 
she thought, Mulder will be right outside. Even 
though she had refused Skinner's offer of a 
guard, she knew Mulder would be sitting across 
the street from her apartment in his parked car. 
She could almost picture him popping sunflower 
seeds and listening to late-night talk radio.

     "If you are sure this is what you want." Her 
mother seemed to be satisfied. That was way too 
easy, she thought. Apparently Mulder had let her 
in on his plan. "Do you want me to help you to the 
bed before I go?"

     "No, I'm actually quite comfortable here." Dana 
knew that her mother probably wouldn't buy that 
one.

     "Dana," she said, entering her line of vision 
again. "Dana, call me if you need me." She was 
very serious. Dana noticed she looked very 
concerned, very worried and tired. 

     "Mom, go home and get some rest." Her 
mother leaned down and kissed her on the cheek 
and silently walked towards the door. She quietly 
shut the door behind her, leaving Dana alone 
with her thoughts.

     

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