Dreamcatcher 18
Ally

Eeazy Sleep Motel Cleveland, Ohio May 5th 1999 2:14p.m.

Mulder rocked back in his chair, staring at the computer screen with an expression that bordered on disbelief. he had gone looking for answers - even the slightest clue that might lead him to his partner - but what he had found was so much more than that.

It hadn't been easy accessing the information - much of what he was now seeing was a direct result of Langley's hacking skills rather than any investigative prowess on his part - but eventually, he had been able to gain access to the Child Service's database.

He and Scully had already ascertained that both of Felicia's parents were deceased. That much was just standard background knowledge. It was what they *hadn't* been told that now seemed to jump out of the screen at him.

The history of this troubled child was laid out in front of him. Her mother, it seemed, had died during childbirth. A difficult pregnancy had resulted in a sudden onset of pre-eclampsia. Despite everyone's best efforts, she had lapsed into a coma from which she had never recovered.

Felicia, although premature, had proved to be a fighter and had eventually gone home to be cared for by her father.

And all that was fine. Tragic, yes. Unusual, no.

What was unusual, though, was that this child was regularly seeing psychiatrists by the age of three. Mulder counted eight different psychiatrists over the next ten years, all with a slightly different take on this child's unique problems. But all were in agreement on one aspect: that the child was extraordinarily bright. Unfortunately, despite being dressed up in flowery language, it was also clear that they all were of the conclusion that, at best, Felicia Slabbert was blessed with an active imagination; or, as one eminent doctor so succinctly put it, she was a pathological liar.

There was even evidence to support that she may also be suffering from some kind of multiple personality disorder.

She had also suffered from various sleep disorders throughout her young life. From simple nightmares, through night terrors, sleepwalking, sleep apnea, this kid had experienced all of them at one time or another.

Until last year, when her father perished in the fire that destroyed the child's home.

And then everything had stopped. No more nightmares, no more terror. She had been moved to Brackenhurst on Julia Brackenhurst's approval, and aside from the usual grief that would be expected from a girl of Felicia's age, she had settled well.

Mulder shook his head. No, not settled. She had thrived. The visits to the psychiatrists had lessened over the following months, and it seemed that whatever it was that had plagued her throughout her life had settled.

Until now.

Mulder closed his eyes.

Was it possible? Was it possible that this child somehow held a connection to the dream world? That she was able to link into it? To allow others to link into it with her? But if so, then for what purpose? And more to the point, when had it started to go so horribly wrong for her?

Too many questions, and too few answers when all the time, the clock was ticking down for Scully. What was the point of gathering information when it was the information itself that was most perplexing to him?

{Think, Mulder. Let it come.}

He leaned back and closed his eyes, willing the images inside his head to assimilate, to become ordered.

What was it Caitlin had said? That he and he alone could bring back Scully, that she needed him to bring her back. Tears of frustration burned beneath his closed lids, until suddenly, from another time, another place, Scully's voice whispered inside his head. The almost forgotten memory of her brushing a hand across his cheek when, so many years ago, he had arrived feverish and heartsick at her apartment the night his father died.

Her voice. Gentle, cajoling.

{Sssshhhhhh, rest. Just rest.}

And he had allowed her to lull him into dreams.

{Rest. Just rest.}

Mulder's eyes snapped open abruptly.

Could it be so simple? Could the answer be so intrinsically *simple* that he hadn't even seen it?

When was it that he had last slept? Certainly not since she was taken. Sleep had been impossible to come by. Sleep was a redundant luxury, pushed way down to the bottom of his list of priorities by his need to be doing something, *anything* to find her. Sleep had been out of the question.

Mulder unconsciously caught his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully as his gaze drifted toward the still unmade bed.

Could it really be so simple? Could it?

**********

Dreamcatcher May 5th. Time unknown.

Scully groaned softly, her consciousness urging her slowly through the disappearing layers of sleep. For a while she fought it. Her mind was still hazy and confused, filled with horrifying images of past nightmares, and she was terribly afraid that if she opened her eyes again, she would be confronted by yet more demons.

But the thought was fleeting, replaced almost immediately by a sense of calm. There would be no more nightmares. At least for the moment.

Slowly, carefully, Scully opened her eyes. The scene before her was dazzling in its beauty. Stretched before her as far as she could see was a wide, blue expanse of water, catching the sun's rays and sparkling with an intensity she had never before experienced. Colorful sea birds dipped and swirled above the water, occasionally disappearing beneath the waves only to reappear seconds later clutching a wriggling prize in their long beaks.

The smooth emerald turf ended a couple of feet in front of her, transforming seamlessly into powdery, white sand that reflected the sun's glare with an intensity that made her blink. Palm trees waved gently in the breeze, whispering softly to her through softly ruffling leaves.

{Paradise}

Or at least some version of it, Scully decided. A part of her fought the notion, but while she had slept, some measure of understanding had fought its way through the layers of deception.

Wherever this place was, it was a combination of her fondest dreams and her darkest nightmares. Just as Felicia had told her it was.

She hadn't believed then. Hadn't understood. Now she did.

{The Dreamcatcher. I'm *in* the Dreamcatcher.}

Scully clambered carefully to her feet, ignoring the creak of joints held in one position for too long, and surveyed her surroundings thoughtfully.

Her heart sank as she turned a full circle and realization hit. The scene before her, which only seconds ago she had found so breathtaking, was repeated exactly at every turn. It shimmered slightly when she changed her perspective, only to settle itself once again with frightening precision.

A paradise with no depth. An illusion.

{Nothing is real here, Agent Scully.}

Scully bit down on the thought and began to walk forward, tentatively, hands unconsciously held out before her as though to ward off some as yet unseen adversary. A part of her expected she would make no headway, would keep feeling the cool grass beneath her feet as she walked. Like a million childhood nightmares where the bogeyman was gaining, but no matter how fast you ran, you remained in the same place - she expected to just keep feeling the turf.

The transition, when it came a few steps later, was almost shocking in its suddenness and Scully jerked her foot back from where it had burrowed slightly into the warm, fine sand. She remained motionless for long seconds, afraid almost to leave the sanctuary of the firm ground, before finally starting forward once again, heading for the water.

Eventually, the warmth beneath her feet cooled and hardened as she reached the water's edge. Tiny waves broke and played around her toes, dragging the sand beneath them away with each backwards swell. The water itself was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and for a few seconds she marveled at the contrast between hot and cold. The sun continued to beat down upon her back, the emerald green flannel of her pajamas drawing in the heat like a magnet. Down here, closer to the water, the breeze was more pronounced, whipping her hair around her face in its intensity. But the wind too was pleasantly tepid, warmed through by the sun's rays.

But despite the ambient temperature, Scully couldn't help a shiver that worked its way up her back.

{Nothing here is real.}

And standing here now, looking out across the calm water, Scully had never felt so alone.

**********

Eeazy Sleep Motel. May 5th 1999. 4:10p.m.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep had not come easily for Mulder. He had lain fully dressed atop Scully's bed, willing his mind to shut down sufficiently, for his body to relax into sleep.

The scent of his partner had assailed him as he flipped over onto his side and burrowed his head in her pillow. He identified the lingering traces of her shampoo that clung to its surface, and for a while, he had considered changing rooms.

Maybe sleep would be easier if he was away from the distraction of her. But here, he felt closer to her somehow. Here he felt the connection he suspected was paramount to his success.

So he stayed. Emptying his mind until he felt his eyes grow heavy, conscious of the Dreamcatcher becoming loose in his curled hand.

{Ssshhhhh, rest. Just rest.}

Mulder sighed softly through slightly parted lips, relaxing. Letting it happen.

Until finally, he slept.

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