Dreamcatcher 25
Ally

Dreamcatcher May 8th. Time unknown

The child smiled at Scully, a tremulous, hesitant smile which made no attempt to belie the sadness behind her eyes. It was as though this child had seen every horror imaginable, that those sparkling green eyes had witnessed things a child should never have to face.

Her skin beneath Scully's touch was soft and smooth. Baby skin almost.

Slowly, as though weighing up the question, Gina nodded. "I think that's who I am."

Scully frowned. Whatever else she had expected, this wasn't it. "What do you mean, Gina?" She tried to keep her voice gentle, to not frighten this child any more than she already was.

Despite that, however, the child's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head from side to side. "I mean, I think I'm me...I'm just not sure anymore."

Scully tried to gather her thoughts together enough to make sense of what the child was saying to her. It was hard. She felt as though she had awoken from a very long, very deep sleep. It was difficult to shake off the fatigue. Difficult to concentrate on Gina's words.

"I don't understand." She gently tugged on Gina's arm to bring the child down to her level. Maybe then she would begin to open up to her. "Gina, tell me what you mean."

She knew this child should be articulate. She knew enough about her background to know she was intelligent, precocious, outgoing. But right now, as the child stared back at her through the tears that now spilled over from her eyes and trickled down her rosy cheeks, Scully could see none of those things. Instead, there was just a little girl. Broken, terrified, hopeless.

For long seconds, Gina didn't speak, until finally, she swallowed back the sobs just sufficiently to force the words out. "Sometimes...sometimes I think I'm dead. I wake up and it's all dark and I can't breathe. And that's when I think it."

Scully reached out a hand and smoothed Gina's hair away from where it had blown across her face, forcing the child to look at her. "Gina, honey, that's not true."

Gina shrugged. "I don't want to believe it. But Fliss says I might be."

"*Fliss* says?" Scully's voice was incredulous.

"Yes." Gina nodded, her words coming faster now. "She says that sometimes when we're here, that when we think bad thoughts, they can come true. That if I *think* that I might be dead it might come true..."

Gina's face crumpled completely then as Scully pulled her into a comforting embrace, rocking the little girl gently against her as her voice rose in a pitiful wail that made Scully's throat close up. "Agent Scully...I don't want to die. I just want to go home."

Scully stroked the child's hair gently, feeling the warmth on the palm of her hand as the sun beat down above them, allowing Gina to cry against her, the tears dampening the material of the green flannel pajamas she still wore.

"Shhhhh. I know you do, sweetie. I know."

Scully closed her eyes, seeing her partner's face behind her lids - an imprint of him that seemed to have been burned on her soul, an image of his face as he was torn away from her, screaming out her name. She wondered fleetingly if she would ever see him again, and then the thought was immediately replaced by the need to comfort this child.

She gently disentangled herself from Gina, pushing the child back so that she could once again look into her eyes. "I *know*, Gina and I promise that you will be okay. We both will."

But her words sounded hollow. Even as she spoke them she knew it was hopeless. Out there, in the real world, she would have had answers. But here she had none. The fact didn't escape Gina.

"No, we won't," she said dully. "Not until she says we can."

"Who says?"

"Fliss. She's in charge. She always has been. We have to stay until she says we can go back. She...she gets real angry if we try and leave."

Scully felt the hairs on the back of her neck inexplicably stand on end as a sudden chill swept over her. Beneath the warmth of the sun, goose flesh broke out on her skin. She could *feel* it. For perhaps the first time she could almost reach out and touch the evil that existed here. And like a jigsaw puzzle the pieces began to slowly fall into place.

"Did Elisabeth try to leave before Fliss said it was okay?"

She felt Gina tense a split second before she pulled herself out of Scully's grasp, and she could swear she saw the color literally drain from her face as the child stumbled backwards away from her.

"Gina?"

Gina held out her hands to Scully, a supplicating almost pleading gesture. "Please don't ask me that. We're not supposed to talk about it. Fliss would be angry if she knew."

But Scully persevered. "She tried to leave, didn't she? And Fliss didn't want her to?"

She watched as Gina dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands as she began to cry again. She considered comforting the child, but another part of her, the pragmatic part that lurked at the forefront of her personality, recognized that she needed answers. Her voice took on a hint of desperation. "Gina, if you want me to help you, you have to tell me. Did Fliss hurt Elisabeth?"

Slowly, so slowly, Gina raised her head, her breath hitching in her chest, reminding Scully of the way she had looked when they had discovered her hiding, terrified, behind that dark armoire. How long ago was that? Scully couldn't be sure. Time held no meaning here. Nothing had meaning except the burning need inside her to find whatever answers she needed to leave this place.

"You can't help me," Gina said. "You can't help me 'cuz you don't understand. Fliss...she didn't mean to do it...she was trying to stop her. Lilly was going to tell, you see. Fliss couldn't let that happen, so she tried to stop her...she made her think bad thoughts."

Scully rubbed a hand wearily across her brow. This was getting them nowhere. It was like being locked inside the most perplexing conundrum.

{Mulder would know.}

But he wasn't here. Scully was no longer sure where *here* even was anymore.

"Bad thoughts?" she queried uncertainly.

Gina nodded. "Nightmares. Do you ever have nightmares, Agent Scully?"

"Sometimes," she admitted as the child turned away from her. Even from her position behind her, Scully could see the sudden droop in the girl's shoulders.

"Fliss says that nightmares are made up of the things that we are most afraid of. All the things we can't think about when we're awake. She says that's what dreaming is for. To get rid of the bad stuff."

{Blood bone and tissue.}

"Gina?"

The child remained standing with her back to Scully. She made no attempt to turn back to her, but Scully sensed she was listening, ready to answer now.

"What was Elisabeth most afraid of?"

The question seemed to hang, balanced on the air between them until finally Gina spoke. Her words were so soft that Scully had trouble even hearing them. But it didn't matter. Because she already knew.

{Chewed up and spit out.}

*Spiders.* Seven-year-old Elisabeth Armstrong, like many little girls her age, had been afraid of spiders.

Scully slammed her eyes shut as the bile began to rise in her throat.

{That's impossible.}

And when she opened her eyes once more, Gina was gone.

**********

St Mary's hospital. Cleveland, Ohio. May 8th, 1999. 7:56p.m.

Mulder was all too aware that she was watching him. He could feel her eyes boring into him in much the same way he was able to feel Scully's when she was concerned about him.

It wasn't surprising that he should feel this same connection now. And it was comforting somehow. It was as though a piece of Scully was there with him. But he refused to raise his head, to make contact with her. To make contact would be to admit his own fatigue. He might be able to fool Skinner, but Margaret Scully was another matter all together.

She had arrived earlier in the day, had stood horror-struck before her daughter's lifeless form, her eyes darting wildly around the room as she fought to hold on to her composure, and he had admired her for it. Had admired her for not breaking down. Like Scully, she would do her crying in private. She was a strong woman. Just like his partner.

He had thought for a minute that she hadn't even noticed him there. Sitting quietly holding Scully's hand, he had made no sound. He could hardly bear to look at her, this woman whose daughter had suffered so much at his hand. Who now might die.

But she *had* noticed. Had crossed the room and gently laid a hand against the back of his hair. Offering forgiveness even before he had time to open his mouth. Telling him without words that she didn't blame him for this. Just as she had never blamed him for things past.

Mulder hadn't wanted to respond, hadn't wanted her to comfort him when he didn't deserve to be comforted, but despite himself, he had turned his head and allowed her to hold him against her as his tears began to flow.

They had remained there for a while. Not speaking, just seeking some kind of solace from each other. Until finally, Margaret had asked him the question he had been so afraid of.

"What happened, Fox?"

He hadn't been able to answer her. Hadn't been able to give her any explanation, and he hated himself for it.

The only surprise had been that Margaret Scully didn't hate him too.

But she didn't. The very fact that she was not only watching over her daughter, but him as well, only added credence to that fact. He knew he didn't deserve it.

"Fox?"

It was easy to ignore the fact that she had been watching him, but almost impossible to resist her when she spoke. He lifted his head and faced her. They sat, either side of Scully's bed. Just sat there. Hour after endless hour, hoping for some sign, some tiny movement to suggest that she was still with them. So far, though, their hopes had been in vain.

He rubbed a hand across his face, wincing as he inadvertently disturbed the small square of gauze that covered the wound on his temple. Pain flared briefly to be replaced with a dull ache. He knew he was pushing it. And from the look on her face, Margaret knew it too.

"You need to rest."

He shook his head. "I can rest here."

"Fox, please..." She rose to her feet then, moving to stand by his side. He allowed her to drop a hand on his shoulder, feeling his throat tighten at her next words. Words she knew would have the desired effect.

"Dana would want you to take care of yourself. At least come with me to get something to eat."

Margaret reached across him and gently smoothed a hand across her daughter's arm. "She needs us both now, Fox. She needs us to be here for her. To hope for her. And she needs you to be whole. Can't you see that?"

Mulder nodded slowly, tearing his gaze from where his partner lay.

{Don't leave me, Mulder.}

{I'll never leave you, Scully.}

And he rose to his feet, dropping a kiss on her brow before he did so.

"I'll be back."

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