Authors: Darkstryder
( CClaib2155@prodigy.net )
Title: To Dream In the City of Sorrows
Catagory: A, A, A
Keywords:
Summary: What I think happened after
"The Red and the Black." Part one of two.
This one's from Scully's, but the next
will be Mulder's POV.
Spoilers: The Red and the Black

Disclaimer: Okay, okay, I'll talk. Just
put down the gun. Ahem. All characters
that you recognize in this piece
of fanfic aren't mine. There. I said it.
Are you happy? And the title is taken
from a Babylon 5 book; I loved it and
couldn't resist.

I was thrilled to get so much feedback
for my last two stories, "Maelstrom" and
"Embrase the Night," ( I didn't mean to
spell it wrong ) that I can't wait
for more. Hardly anyone writes to me from
Gossamer. I'm taking requests; tell me
what you want, and I'll see if I can
write it.
( CClaib2155@prodigy.net )

Oh, yeah: In case you didn't read the
disclaimer, the title is taken directly
from a Babylon 5 book. Watch the show.
Trust me on this.

Quote:
"You cannot harm one who has dreamed a
dream like mine."
Jason Ironheart
Babylon 5
"Mind War"

TO DREAM IN THE CITY OF SORROWS
BY DARKSTRYDER

The night was black. Not the usual
blue-black that stars peer at us
through the moon-reflecting clouds,
but a deep, deep black that swallowed
us whole, taking in every breath and
every heart beat. The only light
came from the lit street lamps,
their glow like lighthouses on the
jagged shores of the coast.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream
and shout and bang my hands against the
wall, shrieking at the top of my lungs
how much I hated this cruel world, a
world that creates life only to destroy
it, laughing at us mere mortals as we
run around trying to live long enough
to die a lingering death, a whisper
of our former selves as mummies buried
within pyrimids of Time.

But I couldn't. These walls that I had
built up over time would not fall. If
life tosses you enough stones you can
build with them; I chose a wall, not
a bridge.

Mulder sat beside me, hands in his lap.
He was done crying, the dried tears
on his face the only sign that they had
been there in the first place. We were
sitting on his couch, my legs sticking to
the leather, skin damp from both sweating
and shivering at the same time. We left
the lights off; no light would enter
our cave until morning.

What he had seen, I did not know. We
had come straight to his place, after
being harrassed by the military. Damn them.
Damn all of them.

If I was another woman, I would do
something about it. If I was the
same person I had been five---was it
only five?---years ago, I would have made
an official complaint, telling the
Main Man at the base how roughly
we had been handled. How they
had screamed in our faces and demanded
that we tell them what we know.

We knew nothing. As usual. And, as usual,
they didn't believe us. I was afraid,
afraid for Mulder, afraid for myself,
afraid for this truth that we have been
so determined to find, a truth that keeps
changing faces on us.

"Scully." He said my name, it sounding like
the voice of an angel.

He looked at me. No, a Dark Angel.

Mulder's eyes were black. I could see no
green-gold iris tinted with grey that
surrounded the pupil. His eyes were
as black as the night that surrounded
us, as black as our souls, as black as
the lies *and* the truth.

I fell into his eyes and saw the dead dancing
atop their graves, singing wild songs
of blood and death and loss while waving
their long, slim bones in the air. I saw
the flames leaping from the fires of
burning homes, children trapped inside
and screaming for the safety of the arms
of their already-dead parents, killed by
the smoke and heat. I saw myself reflected
in those eyes, a thin and pale woman with
faded crimson hair and empty blue eyes,
a woman who just escaped Death and begged
for him to come back and take him into
his arms.

I found myself touching his face, feeling
the angular planes and the skin that was
both soft and rough at once, so warm
to my cold hands that it burned. But I
couldn't bring myself to pull away;
to let him go would have been to tear
my soul from my body: it would have
been his, and then I would truely have
been empty.

Mulder closed his eyes and leaned into me.
His hands found my waist and held me to him,
a soft sob escaping his throat, the sound of
a man defeated and torn. The tears in my eyes
threatened to fall at that small sound.

No. I would not cry. I could not cry.
Someone had to be strong.

"Scully," he whispered again. He hadn't
cried, pulling himself together. He let go
of me and pulled my hands from his face,
staring deep into my eyes.

"Scully, I saw . . . I saw---"

I didn't want to hear this. What he saw
didn't matter to me; what mattered was
the way his eyes were faded and dead,
the hope and strength sucked from
his body and soul, eaten alive by the
monster that we call the Truth. I placed
a finger on his lips, beckoning for him to
understand.

His eyes lowered from mine, and he turned
and looked out into the ever-lasting night.
If that took away our breathing and the beating
of our hearts, than the darkness in that room
took away our dreams and hopes.

After a few moments he looked back at me.
Eyes, still empty, found my own empty ones.
His burning hand found my cold one. We needed
no words, just to be together.

Together, we watched the sun rise.

THE END
What'd you think? Hmm? Good, bad, or
so-so? Tell me!
CClaib2155@prodigy.net

I don't know when part two will come out.
Hopefully soon. It'll have a different
title, so read the summary.

Don't forget: I'm taking requests for
stories. Write!