Dreamcatcher 30
Ally

They had walked for a long time, hands entwined together, their fingers playing softly, skin against skin.

The breeze had picked up again, a response to the brightening sunshine as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, keeping them comfortably warm. The grass was soft against Scully's bare feet, each step deliciously cool as she matched Mulder, pace for pace.

There was no hurry now in their movement as they allowed themselves the luxury of exploring this place. They were conscious that soon they would be leaving, that they would never return, and for a second Scully closed her eyes, remembering the darkness that had come again and again to cloak her days.

But now the darkness had gone. Mulder was here and had replaced the darkness with light. She had no conscious idea of how he could have known and she had already dismissed the thought as being irrelevant. He had come for her and that was all that mattered to her now.

She had held out her hand to him and watched as, without the slightest hesitation, he had caught hold of it, drawing her toward him. For a moment he had just stared at her in wonderment, eyes intense, as though waiting for her to disappear once again. Finally he had wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent as their heartbeats merged into one.

A simple embrace that had seemed so much more.

Because Scully had never felt closer to him. It was as though the world around them ceased to exist. For just a moment, time stood still. And every fiber of her being became wrapped up with his.

Two separate beings who, just for a second, became the whole world.

She didn't pretend to understand it. Deep down she already knew, knew all that they meant to each other. She realized that when this was over, they would go back to the way they always had been, refusing to acknowledge everything they shared.

The knowledge was enough to make her heart contract painfully inside her chest. To feel so much and not be able to bring closure to it hurt her. It hurt her more than she could ever tell him. And just the feel of his fingers against her skin told her he felt it too.

There was so little time left. The sun was dipping lower in the sky and somehow Scully sensed that they wouldn't be here when night finally came. Their time here was drawing to a close. Not enough time. Never enough time.

She came to a halt, feeling Mulder's forward momentum carry him onwards for just a footstep before he turned and gazed at her quizzically. "What is it?"

Scully dropped her head, staring at the ground beneath their feet. "Will we remember?" she asked quietly, her words almost lost as they floated downwards.

Mulder frowned. She sounded so lost, so lonely, her voice filled with a thousand yearnings he knew he could never hope to ease. And more than anything he wished he could give her the answer she needed. But he refused to lie to her. He refused to deceive either of them more than they had already been deceived. "No. We won't remember."

His voice was decisive, as already he understood that they would remember this place only as one would remember a dream. Half-forgotten fragments that would occasionally resurface, only to be pushed away again. To be filed away in that elusive part of the human memory that crumbles even as it builds itself up. A constantly changing landscape from one day to the next.

Scully nodded. The movement was barely perceptible, and suddenly Mulder knew that they couldn't end it all this way. That there was more to be said. With actions that were permissible here even if not in their waking lives.

And gently, so gently, he placed his index finger beneath his partner's chin, drawing her face toward him until he could look deep into her china blue eyes.

"Mulder?"

Scully breathed his name. The tiniest intonation of doubt seeped toward him, and for the first time Mulder allowed himself the luxury of ignoring that doubt. It didn't exist here. It wasn't a part of who they were.

Out there, back in the real world, he could never have allowed himself to touch her this way, couldn't have let his hand linger against the graceful curve of her neck as he leaned in closer to her.

"This is right," he whispered, watching as her pupils enlarged, her head tilting toward him in affirmation. An invitation to finally come together in the way they had always yearned.

And as their lips met, she felt herself sinking once again, falling into the depths of him until nothing else existed. Making the final step towards the end of a journey.

The world around them grew hazy, the colors swirling, blending into one, stealing away form and feature as they clung to each other, unaware now of the shift in their reality.

And in the distance, Felicia smiled as she bestowed upon them a final gift before they left this place.

**********

St Mary's Hospital. Cleveland, Ohio May 17th, 1999 12:42p.m.

Margaret Scully rounded the corner that led to her daughter's room. The few minutes she had spent away had revitalized her somewhat and despite Skinner's best efforts, she had insisted on returning to the ICU to sit with Scully a while longer.

She would attempt once again to persuade Fox to leave her bedside, for a while at least. He needed sleep. That much was obvious even to her. But she doubted he would listen. Sometimes, when she looked at him, seeing his eyes fixed so intently on the woman before him, she doubted he would ever listen to anyone ever again.

For perhaps the first time she had fully appreciated just what they meant to each other, and while she could respect his level of commitment, she was smart enough to realize that it would eventually be his undoing.

Squaring her shoulders in readiness for the argument that was bound to ensue, Maggie glanced toward the line of waist- high windows that afforded the medical personnel an unobstructed view of the occupants within, and just for a second, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widened as the image of the empty bed slammed into her conscious mind with all the force of a sledgehammer.

And then, a heartbeat later, they were there again. Faster than it had taken for her to blink her eyes, the image was shattered into a million pieces and replaced with the view of Mulder, still sleeping, his head turned to the side as though watching over her daughter in his dreams.

Margaret smiled and shook her head.

A trick of the light maybe? The product of a tired mind and a tired body. Nothing more than that.

She stood, staring through the glass for a minute longer, unwilling to disturb Mulder from his slumber, so lost in thought she almost missed it.

A movement so tiny, so inconsequential that she almost didn't see it at all.

But the movement was there. There was no doubt about it and Margaret felt the tears forming, choking her in their intensity as they began to gather beneath her lids. But she wasn't conscious of them as they began to spill over, making a salty path down her cheeks. Wasn't conscious of anything other than the sight of her daughter's eyes, fluttering open before her.

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