Title: Do You Dream of Me? Author: Virtie E-mail: virtuesandvices@aol.com Web site: http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/ Rating: PG-13 Category: Classification: MSR, Alternate Reality(sort of), Mythology Spoilers: Up to Season 8. *My* Season 9. Archive: Yes. Just keep my name with it, please. Summary: Scully has a dream while Mulder's away. Disclaimer: What do you mean, I don't own these characters?! I know them better than you do, CC! *sigh* Oh, all right. Please don't sue; I need to feed my horse, dog and cats. Author's Note: This is not really a sequel to "Let's Face the Music and Dance." It's more like an interlude. But if you haven't read "Dance" yet, you may want to before venturing into my world... Dedication: This is for Windsor. Dreams do come true. ***** "Do You Dream Of Me?" - Michael W. Smith Dreams, within the still of night, On wings of hope take flight Inside of me There, upon some distant shore We want for nothing more Than what will be And you and I, here we are I wonder as we've come this far If I could only read your mind Tell me the answer I would find Do you dream of me? And when you're smiling in your sleep Beyond the promises we keep Do you dream of me? Love has found a matching space A deep and hidden place Where time stands still Now, I hold you in my arms You know you hold my heart And always will And you and I, here we are And it's a wonder that we got this far And after all that we've been through, You've leaned on me, I've leaned on you Do you dream of me? And when you're smiling in your sleep Beyond the promises we keep Do you dream of me? ***** Dreams. We all dream. Every one of us. EveryTHING dreams. Well, every mammal, anyway. Except for sloths. For some reason, sloths don't need to dream. Being a scientist myself, I can honestly tell you that science truly doesn't know why we dream. Is it simply a way to exercise our brain? Or is it a way for our brain to refresh itself? REM sleep, where most dreams occur, is necessary for our mental health, so does this mean that dreams are a way to restore our minds just as sleep restores our bodies? We remember things in dreams that we can never recall while we are awake. Most people cannot even remember dreaming, but some people can actually control their dreams. Lucid dreaming, it's called. For thousands of years people have been fascinated by the phenomenon called dreaming. Some people even think a dream can be 'interpreted' and you can see into the dreamer's soul this way. Bullshit. I've never believed dreams themselves to be paranormal in any way. Not normal dreams. But it's been over a year since I've had a normal dream. Fourteen months, to be exact. Not since the day Fox Mulder got into my head. Now, I never dream alone. Well, I shouldn't say 'never', but it isn't often that I sleep nowadays and not have a dream built for two...sometimes three. How do I know? Well, first of all, I have never been one to remember my dreams with any clarity, not to mention control them to a certain extent. But now I can. Secondly, I could never in my right mind dream up the stuff I see in my dreams all by myself. Cotton candy worlds and chocolate rivers and...well, let's just say it reminds me a lot of Willy Wonka. And those are the G-rated dreams, the ones where Will is present. When Will isn't around... And the third reason I know I'm not dreaming alone is that I can 'feel' him. Actually, when I think about it and work at it, I can feel him all the time, but it's always a vague sense of his presence, his life-force. Nothing significant. In fact, there are some days when I'm convinced I'm just imagining it. But at night, when I'm asleep, my unconscious is in control, and his presence is strong. I can tell if he's happy or if he's sad or if he's angry or frustrated. And I can do my best to soothe, comfort, or take comfort. There are never any words spoken in these dreams, nor do I ever see him. But I feel him. Sometimes, it's the simple pressure of his hand on the small of my back, or his familiar scent in my nostrils as if he's leaning in toward me. On rare occasions, his touch becomes intimate, but erotic dreams like we used to share when we were together and still learning about this connection of ours aren't common, nor are they as explicit as they used to be. I'm not quite sure if this is because he is so far away from me physically that it is too difficult for him to control such a complex dream or if he just refuses to go that far; it does hurt more upon waking knowing he isn't really beside me in our bed after dreams like these. Despite the pain and longing these dreams bring, I look forward to sleep. Because feeling him, knowing he's there, knowing he's alive and well, keeps me going. Well, that and our son. Will is talking, and he's frighteningly good at it. And he's walking. Running. Thinking. Though he's only twenty months old now, he acts more like a five year old. And the mind working behind those hazel eyes of his is only getting stronger. To this day, I'm not sure if it is he or his father who created the chocolate river in my dreams; Mulder never had a sweet tooth like his son does. Will has a much stronger connection to Mulder than I do. Sometimes I'll catch my son sitting far too still and staring off into nothingness, a small smile on his face. I try never to disturb him when he is like this, but my mother and Monica, who often spend time with him on weekends, both get worried when they see him so still. It often takes more than a few calls of his name to get his attention. I can't tell them to let him be; I would have to explain why. And they don't know. They can't know. Nobody must know that Mulder is still alive. Several months ago, shortly after Mulder and I discovered that I could 'talk' back to him using telepathy, Mulder boarded a small plane with Marita Covarrubias and her baby daughter, Rebecca, on their way to meet with CGB Spender and make a deal to keep both Rebecca and Will safe from harm. The plane exploded shortly after takeoff, killing all on board. Only, without anyone's knowledge, Marita, her baby and Mulder had managed to slip off of the plane at the head of the runway on that cold, dark night. Mulder had known that he had been marked for death; the alien Rebels feared he would take control of the Syndicate that dealt with the Grays. Which is exactly what he has done. Only it wasn't because he was power hungry as the Rebels feared, and it certainly wasn't because he was like the man whose place he had taken, Cancer Man himself. He had done it for his son. I hadn't expected the explosion that night. And if I hadn't had a solid lock on Mulder's presence far from the plane when it dissolved in the sky, I might had believed what everyone else believed: Mulder was gone. John Doggett believed it. As did his partner in the X-Files, Monica Reyes. Even my mom has come to terms with the loss, grateful that I seem to be moving on with my life, focusing on my son and my job at Quantico. The Gunmen mourned for Mulder and now they spoil Will, watching over the two of us as they felt Mulder would have wanted them to do. Frohike's flirting, however, is held in check now. The ring I wear on my left hand may have something to do with that, but they truly believe Mulder is never coming back. Walter Skinner, on the other hand, is a different story. I often wonder if my acting wasn't good enough to fool him or if he simply sensed something from Will, but he never truly accepted Mulder's 'death'. He is acutely aware of how Will can see a picture of Mulder and say 'Daddy' without any hesitation. Or how when someone mentions Mulder, I don't get all misty eyed or nostalgic like I had had a tendency to do when he was 'dead' the first time. Or how I often find myself touching my throat, where my cross used to hang, staring off into space with a silly smile on my face, not unlike Will's when he and Mulder are 'talking'. He knows. But he'll never admit it. In the meantime, I am continuing to live life from day to day. And night to night. Knowing that I will see him again. I am living for that day, but I fear it as well. After all, when Mulder comes out of hiding, it will mean the beginning of the end has begun. For now, I'll simply be content to dream... ***** "What the...!" The sound of my own voice startled me and added even more questions to my confused brain. I was dreaming. I was sure of it. But I was in a place I had never before been, either in real life or in my mind. The fact that I was talking aloud was also different. It was never necessary when I shared dreams with Will; we already knew each others feelings, and he and I had no trouble 'speaking' without words. With Mulder, words were rarely used as our connection was tenuous due to the distance of our bodies. Carefully, I reached out with my mind to find Will. He was sleeping undisturbed in his bedroom, and I immediately pulled back and shut my mind off from his. He wasn't a part of this dreamscape, and until I knew what it was and why I was here, he did not need to know about it. I was often the victim of a reoccurring nightmare that I refused to let him discover, blocking him from my mind whenever it reared its ugly head. Often during this dream, which I had first had shortly after his birth, he would reach out for me in his sleep, and when he couldn't find me, he would wake up and complain...loudly. I would wake as any mother would and that would be that. I would let the same thing happen here. I reached for Mulder next. He was there, as he always was, but his touch was indifferent. More distant than usual. Was this his dreamworld? And if it was, where was he? I looked about me, taking in the terrain I had been thrust upon. I was in a field with tall grass that grew nearly to my hips. It was waving almost violently in the wind that was blowing, and the soft roaring sound surrounded me on every side. I looked upward into a cloudless, blue sky, comforted by the fact that there didn't appear to be a storm on the way. I blinked and faced the wind, noticing as I did so a group of trees about 200 yards away. I took a step in their direction when a sound from behind me sent my heart racing. I spun around. I was no longer alone. "Frohike?!" The little hacker did a complete 180 degree turn, his eyes wide. He stopped and faced me. "Scully?" My heart slowed, and a smile tried to compete with the frown already on my face. "What are you doing here?" "What am I doing here?!" Frohike exclaimed. "I don't even know where HERE is!" Folding my arms, I let the smile win. "You're dreaming." His eyes widened. "Huh?" "Or should I say, 'I'm dreaming'?" I felt the frown set in again. "But if that were true, why are you here?" Not that I didn't love Melvin to death, I just couldn't see why he would be in a dream I was sure Mulder was controlling. Unless... "Is this *my* dream, or yours?" Frohike stared at me for a moment, comprehension slowly dawning, then he ogled me up and down. "It's gotta be yours." "Why?" "'Cause if it were mine, you wouldn't be fully clothed." I felt my face heat, then looked down at what I was wearing. He was right. Though my dream-garb was far from what I wore in real life, it was still modest. With a long, flowing skirt, the white dress had full sleeves that ended slightly past my wrists and a scooped neckline that wasn't nearly low enough to attract unwanted male attention. The waist was tight, however, as was the bodice. I looked back up at Frohike. "You look like a princess," he said softly. I grimaced. "I look like Princess Leia." With a gasp, I brought my hands up to the sides of my head, then sighed with relief when I felt my own shoulder length hair blowing in the wind. Frohike laughed. "You look pretty smart yourself, hotshot," I grumbled good naturedly. Frohike's smile faded as he looked down at himself. He was wearing black breaches and leather boots that came to his knees. His clean white shirt was complimented by a black leather jacket with a high collar. The only things that kept him from looking too abnormal were his glasses and his leather half-gloves. He winced slightly, then shrugged and turned his attention back toward me. "So what now, Princess? How do we wake up?" I looked back toward the trees. "We can't wake up, yet, Frohike. We need to see this thing through." "Wait a minute!" He rushed toward me and grabbed my arm. His touch was gentle but insistent. "What do you mean? If this is your dream, why am I here? And how?" He let my arm go and backed away a step. "Are you getting to be like Mulder was? Are you in my head?" I frowned. Until that moment, I had been sure Frohike was simply part of the dream, a companion for whatever adventure Mulder had in store for me. Someone I could trust. But now I was beginning to wonder if maybe he wasn't a figment of this very real dreamscape. "I'm not, Frohike," I told him softly. "I'm not that strong. But..." I looked off toward the trees again. 'Mulder?' I thought silently. No response. He was here. I could feel him. But I couldn't touch him. It was as if all his concentration was elsewhere. I looked at Frohike again, and I suddenly knew where. "Let's go," I told my companion. "I have a feeling we'll have the answers we need over there." I headed for the trees. "A feeling, huh?" Frohike grumbled as he began following me. "Great." ***** As I strolled along through my dreamscape, I let myself look around a little more. There really wasn't that much to see. Except for the trees we were walking toward, all around us was an endless expanse of grass. Tall and green, it was beautiful in its own way. The wind produced waves that many oceans would envy; no whitecaps, but the sun shining on the underside of the seeds on the grass-stems caused silver ripples to glow amongst the bright green. And the smell of the fresh earth was wonderful. I took a deep breath and glanced back at my companion. Frohike trudged along behind me, watching the ground rather than his surroundings, his expression grumpy. "Not an outdoorsy person, are you, Melvin?" God knows I would never call him by his first name in real life, but here I felt a little less like Agent Scully and more like the tomboy Dana I used to be. Despite the dress. "Not really, no." I sighed and kept walking, lifting my face toward the sun. We reached the trees. Kind of. What I had seen from a distance was, in fact, only the tops of several trees. They were actually in a deep ravine, three times as tall as they had appeared from our starting point. A small stream tumbled along at the bottom of the miniature canyon and the wind produced an even louder roar as it blew through the cottonwoods in front of us. Frohike stopped next to me and looked about curiously. "So," he said, his voice still a bit morose sounding. "Do we go down?" I looked over at him with a slight smile on my face, positive that he wasn't part of my imagination. If Frohike ever appeared in a dream of mine or Mulder's, he wouldn't be this grumpy. Somehow, for whatever reason, Mulder had dragged the little man into his head along with me. "Yeah," I told him, keeping my voice firm but cheerful. The last thing I needed was for him to become uncooperative. Mulder had him here for a reason. "I think we should." He looked over at me, his eyes suspicious. "Why?" He turned toward me, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you know?" I gave him a secretive smile. "What's the matter, Melvin? Don't you trust me?" I turned and headed for what appeared to be a well-worn path leading down into the ravine. "I'm not sure of anything," I continued as I walked, "but something is telling me this is where we need to be." It was true. I felt that this was the direction to go. Don't ask me how. I couldn't tell you if I tried. Mulder-radar maybe. I've had something like it for years, and I try never to question it. "You can come with me or not, Frohike." "Scully, my dear," he responded with faint humor. "I will come with you anywhere." I was halfway down the side of the ravine when he said this. I stopped and turned to glare up at him. In reality, I was more than thrilled to see the little smirk adorning his face; he was finally getting back to normal. I continued down the hill and heard him start down it himself. A few dirt clods loosened by his feet tumbled down past me, and I sent him another glare. "Don't you dare fall." "Ah, come on, Scully. It's a dream. Nothing can hurt us." He paused, then met my eyes with his own. "Right?" I shrugged. If he wanted to know the truth, I had no idea how far this dream could and would go. If Mulder was truly in charge, of course we wouldn't get hurt. But because of the realistic detail in this dream and the fact that I had a partner, I wasn't sure of anything. The bottom of the ravine was cool and shady, and after having worked up a light sweat on the hike over, it was pleasant. The wind wasn't nearly as strong down here, either, which I think Frohike was greatly appreciative of. Glancing at him, I headed down the same trail we climbed down on, which now ran parallel with the stream. "Who do you think made this trail?" Frohike asked as he followed me. Again, I shrugged. "Deer, maybe? Or maybe it's a hiking trail." He responded with a noncommittal grunt and we continued on silently for a while. Then he spoke up once again. "Hey, Scully?" "Yeah?" "If I'm in your dream, you must be in my mind, right?" I bit my lower lip and took a deep breath. "I never agreed it was *my* dream." "Yeah, but we already decided it's not *mine*. So who's running this thing?" I kept walking, waiting for him to make the realization. I knew he would; he was far too smart a man not to. And if Mulder wanted him here, he must want Frohike to know the truth. I heard him stop suddenly behind me. With a sigh, I turned to face him. "You have dreams like this often?" His expression was bare. "I don't think I've ever had a dream quite like this one," I replied honestly. "But you do have...dreams? Controlled by someone else?" I looked him straight in the eye. "Will and I sometimes dream together." He was silent for a while, studying my face. Then he looked around at the beauty surrounding him. "The kid's a genius, but this ain't his." He mumbled the statement, and I knew he expected no reply. "So that leaves," he looked back at me, his eyes bright. "Will's father." I nodded my head, not sure what to expect. "You've known all along, haven't you?" Anger flared in his eyes for a brief moment, but then it died. The glow returned, and I looked away, knowing it was caused by tears. "And now it appears he wants you to know as well," I said softly. I heard him take a deep breath and looked up. He was blinking away the tears and wiping his nose. With a grin, he looked at me again. "Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Returning his grin, I turned and headed up the trail again, more than curious to see what lay ahead. But I stopped short as I noticed the shadows slipping through the trees ahead of us. Shadows that were gradually getting larger...and noisier. Frohike squeezed up beside me, squinting. "Are those horses?" "And riders," I confirmed. About five horsemen were making their way up the trail toward us, but they didn't look like your average trail riders. Glancing back down at the garb both Frohike and I wore, I told myself I shouldn't be surprised by the looks of the riders. They were wearing armor. Black armor. And capes. And all their horses were black or almost black as well. Swords flapped gently from scabbards that hung off the left side of their mounts, and I was reminded of one of my old history teachers, who taught that the common practice of mounting horses from the left side was started back when their riders carried swords; it was easier to mount a horse from the left so the rider wouldn't have to swing a heavy, sharp sword over his steed. I remembered asking how lefties did this. I was promptly told there were no lefties back then; none that would admit to it, anyway. "Are they the good guys or the bad guys?" Frohike whispered to me. "They're wearing black," I responded. "What do you think?" "I'm just hoping we haven't stepped into 'The Lord of the Rings'." I shook my head. "More like Camelot," I said. "Only, those aren't Arthur's knights." Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling about this. ***** There I was, shoulder to shoulder with Frohike, watching five angry looking men dressed as knights on five battle scarred horses coming toward us, and all I could do was stand there like some helpless maiden in a fairy tale. 'All right, Mulder,' I couldn't help but think to myself. 'You did this to me. It's all your fault.' But 'talking' to him wasn't working; he still wasn't responding, but there was an overwhelming feeling of nervousness that seeped from his consciousness into mine that I really didn't like. I glanced at Frohike and saw the fear in his eyes and knew he felt it, too, though he probably had no idea why. I turned back to the horsemen, squaring my shoulders and lifting my head in a manner Mulder once called 'regal'. He hadn't been complimenting me at the time. They stopped about fifteen feet in front of us. My eyes met those of the man in the lead. Recognition flooded through me, and I couldn't control the involuntary gasp that escaped me. Knowle Roher. He frowned at me from the top of his mount, leaning forward as if that helped him to see me better. Then he sat up straight. "Who are you?" he demanded. But before I could answer, he continued, his voice harsh, "What reason do you have to trespass here?" I took a deep breath, then spoke, keeping my voice as steady as possible. "We did not know this was somebody's property, therefore, we did not know we were trespassing." The man frowned even harder, then turned to look at the men behind him. They all wore similar expressions of confusion and growing anger. He turned back to face me. "How could you not know who owns this land? Where do you come from?" "Far from here," I continued. "We..." 'Come on, Scully. Make up some story. It doesn't have to be believable.' But nothing came to mind. "We're here to see your boss," Frohike said from my side. "My 'boss'?" the soldier said. "What is that?" "You know," the little hacker continued, his own nervous voice getting stronger as he went on. "The head honcho. Your supreme leader. The guy who signs your paychecks." "Frohike," I whispered, trying to get him to shut up. But I shouldn't have worried. Mr. Black seemed to appreciate my companion's facetiousness. "You'd like to meet The General, is that what you're trying to say?" "Yeah! That's it. Your general." He seemed oblivious to the fact that the man had said *the* general as if it was a name or title, not a rank. With a smirk on his face, Mr. Black eyed us up and down. "And how do I know you're not from the rebel faction? Here to assassinate The General?" Frohike stepped away from me a bit and spread his arms out. "Do we really look dangerous to you?" Neither of us carried weapons, and my small stature and feminine appearance most likely looked innocent enough. Frohike wasn't much taller than I was, and as Mulder once told him, he was 'just a little puppy dog' and he looked it. Mr. Black turned his mount and began to quietly consult with the others. I looked at Frohike, who didn't look nervous any more. "This is kinda cool, Scully," he told me. "It's like our own little version of a fairy tale." He chuckled softly. "Of course, if this is Mulder's fairy tale, I probably should have told the guy, 'Take me to your leader'." He chuckled again, but stopped when he saw my frown. "Hey, you okay?" "I know that man," I told him, keeping my voice low. Frohike looked back at the horsemen. "You mean, he's not just a part of the dream?" I shrugged. "I don't know." I looked over at Mr. Black just as he looked over at us again. "Whether he's real or not, don't trust him, okay?" "'kay," Frohike agreed. Mr. Black had turned his horse to face us once more. "We will take you to the compound and tell The General you are here. He will then decide what is to be done with you." Frohike leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Why do I not like that sound of that last sentence?" Before I could tell him I sympathized with his feelings, Mr. Black dismounted. "You will ride with me," he said, nodding his head in my direction. He looked at Frohike. "You may ride with Kunhardt." The man behind Mr. Black was also getting off of his horse. He was big and burly and scary looking. "Oh, joy," Frohike mumbled, sarcasm strong in his soft voice. Despite my long skirt, I was able to mount the big black horse with relative ease, but it took both Mr. Black and the man called Kunhardt to get Frohike on the back of his mount. Then both soldiers remounted, turned their horses, and we began to march down the valley. I tried to tell myself that this was working out wonderfully. After all, we were going in the direction I had been leading Frohike. We were probably going where we were supposed to. But I couldn't relax. Maybe it was the fact that I knew the man seated behind me, his arms caging me on both sides as he held the reins, was a deadly, indestructible alien replicant. A 'man' who could easily crush me, break my neck...or even cut it off with his own arm. 'Mulder?' I tried once more, desperate now. And still, there was no answer. ***** We rode for nearly an hour before the scenery changed, but what a dramatic change it was! The little stream we were following suddenly met up with a larger creek that flowed out of its own gorge. The result was a much larger valley and a deeper creek that had a much faster current. We rode alongside this small river for a short while, and I noticed how the sides of the valley began to shrink and widen, leaving more room for meadows and open areas. It was in one of these open areas that the compound Mr. Black had mentioned stood. I really didn't know what I had expected. A castle of some sort maybe, like the one at Disneyland. Or maybe a fortress reminiscent of the middle ages. This ugly chunk of rock in the shape of an octagon wasn't it. At least, that's what it looked like; a chunk of rock. I glanced back at Frohike and he responded with a nervous look of his own. As we rode closer, I began to realize the size of the man-made structure in front of us; it was huge. The outer walls stood only about three stories high, but the circumference of the whole thing had to be nearly as big as Staten Island. Well, maybe not quite THAT big. But it was tremendous. Two large, heavy wooden doors unexpectedly opened in the wall directly in front of us. Their color nearly matched that of the rock they had been joined to. If you couldn't easily see the obvious trail leading up to the double doors, you would not have known they were there from a distance. Without hesitation, the horses carried us into the shadows that were revealed by the open doors. My nerves were already hopping, but the dark, forbidding passage that lead to the interior of the compound set them on fire. I was used to working in the dark, but not without my flashlight. Or my weapon, for that matter. The horse underneath me went steadily forward, however, and the simple fact that *he* wasn't afraid helped calm me. We turned, and I was suddenly faced with the proverbial 'light at the end of the tunnel' in real time. Taking a deep breath, I loosened my grip on the pommel of the saddle, not quite remembering when I had grabbed it. The horse carried us into a large cobblestone courtyard, full of people and animals. The smells and sounds rushed at me, and I felt a sense of wonder at the realism of this amazing dream. Once again, I looked at Frohike and noticed the same stunned look on his face that must have been on mine. Now, this was more like it. It may not look like a castle on the outside, but inside... Both men and women bustled about, the women in simple homespun skirts and blouses, the men in trousers and rough looking work shirts. Most wore what looked like leather slippers on their feet, but some went barefoot. Only a handful of the men wore boots like the ones Frohike wore, and their clothing appeared to be finer as well. Children of all ages ran about with bare feet and dirty faces. They stopped as the soldiers rode by and watched, smiles bright and eyes wide. When the horse underneath me stopped suddenly, my attention was diverted from the children to several young men in front of us. These young men were dressed in fine attire like the 'noblemen' I had seen but were obviously not quite up to the same level yet. They took hold of the horses' bridles, and after we dismounted they led the horses away. Stable boys. Squires. Learning from the 'knightly' soldiers. They looked with open curiosity at Frohike but kept their eyes down when they faced me. Was it a sign of respect... or the opposite? I didn't know. Mr. Black took my elbow and led me to a doorway off to the side. It was dark and cool inside, and I suddenly realized how hot it had been in the courtyard. With the sun beating down on the stone floor and only a minimal breeze reaching up over the walls, the temperature inside the compound was several degrees warmer than that outside of it. I still would have much rather stayed out in the hot sun than in this dark, dank, musty smelling hall, however. My 'escort' lead me to a flight of steep stairs and proceeded to climb them. With his grip tight on my arm, I could do nothing but follow, though I could barely see in the dim light. Candles lined the wall to my right, but they barely broke the surface of the deep darkness that surrounded me. The shuffle of footsteps behind me comforted me a little; Frohike was being taken up the stairs as well. We finally reached the top, but it wasn't much brighter there than it had been in the stairwell, though torches had been lit and set about the room we stood in. Small, narrow windows off to the side let in thin streams of sunlight, letting me know that it was a southern facing wall. Mr. Black dropped my elbow and looked down at me with piercing eyes. "Wait here." He proceed forward to a door in the stone wall. He rapped on it with his knuckle and paused. It opened almost immediately, but I couldn't see who was on the other side. I heard the murmur of voices, Mr. Black's and a softer, almost feminine one. The door opened wider, and I could see what looked like bright, natural light on the other side. The soldier walked in, closing the door behind him. I folded my hands in front of me and consciously tried not to fidget. I looked at Frohike, but he was staring at the door intently, as if he was trying to see through it. He frowned, seemingly frustrated. Glancing at me, he gave me an apologetic look and shrugged. Wondering what he had been trying to do, I turned back to face the door once more. We waited for what seemed like an eternity, and I began to wonder idly if I would ever get tired enough to sleep in this dream. My feet hurt. And I was a bit stiff from the ride. And I was hungry. But would I get tired? And even more importantly, would I ever need to go to the bathroom? I shook my head and laughed silently. Crazy thoughts. The door opened suddenly, and I could easily see the sun filled room that had been hidden behind it. A tall, feminine shape graced the doorway, and a woman's husky voice reached my ears. "The General will see you now." I walked toward the familiar voice, and wasn't surprised to see Marita holding the door. She was wearing a dress similar to mine, but it was a deep midnight blue instead of white. Her hair was piled on top of her head in an elegant fashion, indicating that it was much longer in this dreamworld than it had been when I had last seen her in real-time. She stepped aside as I entered, and then my attention was directed to the room. It was incredible. Magical. The whole upper portion of the south wall had been cut away, as had part of the ceiling, and sun streamed down upon the stone floor. Bright tapestries with pictures of animals and mountains covered the opposite wall and the back, brightening the room even more, and plants grew throughout, taking advantage of the light. A large table with several chairs around it sat on the left side of the room, and beautiful rugs and cushions were on my right, the sunlight hitting them perfectly. It was a room befitting a king. Or a General. My breath caught in my throat as I faced the back of the room. Mr. Black stood next to a slightly raised dais with a chair on it. Not quite a throne, but definitely a place of honor. A man was sitting there, and I knew without a doubt that this was The General himself. He was dressed in much the same manner as Frohike and the nobles outside: white shirt opened at the throat, long, full sleeves caught tight at his wrists, black trousers with high, black boots. His dark hair was slightly long, brushing his collar, and a goatee adorned his face. That and the diamond stud flashing in his left ear made him look almost piratical. Other than the earring, the only jewelry that I could see was a simple gold band on his left ring finger. He stood and stepped down from the dais, and my gaze ran over his lithe form. There was no more fear. No more worry. Only pure appreciation of the fine figure before me. I was almost tempted to wipe my chin and assure myself I wasn't drooling. "Oh, yeah," I heard Frohike say from somewhere behind me. "This is definitely *your* dream." I couldn't help but smile. I had finally found Mulder. ***** End Part 1/2