Classification: M/S Angst; MSR

Rating: PG

Spoilers: "All Things", "The Unnatural"

Summary: Mulder tells Scully a bedtime story after
the events of "All Things"

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren't mine. They belong
to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Broadcasting.

Thank You's as always to Georgia, for your beta help
and dear friendship, and to The X-Scenes group, a better
group of writers and betas could never be found! May
many cheesecakes be in your future!Many Thanks to Alcott for the
invitation!
 
 
 

"A Bedtime Story"
 

    She's not drooling. It's a strange
observation, I know. I continue to
wonder how my partner, this woman before
me, could see so much which would
frighten the bravest of souls, and still
find enough trust in her heart to fall
asleep, drool-inducing sleep, at the drop of a hat.

Not tonight, however. She has fallen
asleep quickly, but it is not a deep
sleep. Her eyes fluttered closed not too
long ago, but she is not truly resting.

She has been shaken more than stirred.
That is why she is here, here with me and
not with her past.

I watch her eyes move quickly under the
tender skin that forms her lids. What
does she see in these dreams that
envelope her subconscious, causing her to whimper--wishes,
desires, fears? Do I figure in any or all
of the above?

It's not all about you, Mulder, I remind
myself using her words which I've
repeated so many times that they
are seared into my brain.

I reach out to touch her, to make contact
with her in some way. Although she
is sitting right next to me, she seems a world apart.
Only the tips of my fingers graze her cheek.
She has just revealed to me a world which
I've never known to exist: a world where
Scully was a maiden to be wooed and where
a knight was brave enough to do the wooing.

I should just leave her to sleep.
Sometimes the greatest comfort that can
be given is knowing when to quit.
 

    I would quit here and turn to go to
my bed alone, if not for the fact that I
just discovered that Scully has recently
adopted a definitely painful position. I
better move her legs onto the couch so
she doesn't awake in mid-cramp.

Slowly, slowly, almost there, keep sleeping,
I repeat in a silent plea.

"Mulder?" she asks groggily.

Dammit. I knew I couldn't do this.

"SHH. Go back to sleep. You're okay. I'm
going to bed, too," I murmur as if to a
child. I once again tuck the blanket
around her. I turn to go to my bedroom.

"Don't go, Mulder. Stay with me a little
while, please," she says in sleepy whisper.

Inwardly, I panic. Of course, I don't
show it. I never do. I fear I'm
going into a place marked "Here be
Monsters." It is place where I was once,
seven years ago, when a half-naked Scully
came to me looking for answers,
assurances. Tonight, she is once again
before me, laid bare by her confession
and asking for my presence.

Instead of running or stiffly hesitating,
I take a seat on the floor. I steady
myself by leaning ever so slightly into
the leather cushion of the couch.

"What is it?" I question.

"I had a bad dream," she says.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, not really. That always makes me
feel worse," she concludes in typical
Scully fashion. A small smile begins at
the left corner of her mouth.

"What?" I offer.

"My father used to comfort us after
nightmares by telling us very elaborate
stories. He not only swept away the fear,
but replaced it with something
beautiful." Her face began to fall at the
sense of loss.

While I knew I could not be a substitute
for the storyteller of her childhood, I
could weave a tale here, tonight, in the
waning days of her youth. And so I begin.

"Well, Scully, I just so happen to have
brought back with me, from the land of
the Pendragons, a little-known legend
which I think might intrigue you. First,
though, you must close your eyes."

Amazingly, she complies. I feel as though
I am calling her outside to play again,
much as I did last spring around this
time. For a short while that night out on
the baseball field, I sensed a winsome
spirit, a playfulness in her and myself
that I never knew existed. Tonight I
hoped to draw her out again, past the
pain that remembering rekindled, past
ourselves. Plus, it felt incredible to
have her in my arms that night, without
tears or threats. It was a sensation I
hope my story will manage to recreate.

"That's good," I encourage her as her top
lashes embrace her lower ones.

"Did you know, Scully, that the fair
Guinevere had red hair?" I start to see
the rise of an eyebrow, but then it
retreats. Already blessed by her silent
reassurance, I continue.

"Really, she did. It may have been a
little singed by that whole burning-at-
the-stake thing, her punishment for the
little indiscretion with Lancelot.
Anyway, after she was allowed to go free,
Guinevere faced two prospects, neither of
which delighted her. She could get
herself to a nunnery or go home to
Arthur, whom she admired but no longer
loved.

As she debated the options, with
smoke still swirling around her,
Guinevere saw a tall, lanky knight.
Silently, he beckoned to her from the
edge of the crowd. Her eyes questioned
him, and he mouthed the words, 'Come with
me.' "
 

I pause here, collecting my thoughts and
delightedly realizing that a small smile
is gracing Scully's face. I move closer
to her.

"Somehow she made her way through the
now-thinning crowd toward the knight.
Quickly, he led her to his waiting steed.
helped her up, well he didn't need to
help her that much," I insert in response
to her knitted brow, "and they rode off
into the surrounding woods."

"Pray thee, sir, what is thy name?"
Guinevere inquired.

"Foxwaine, was the knight's reply
 

"Oh, please, Mulder!" Scully good-
naturedly chuckles while still keeping
her eyes closed.

"Hey, hey, stay with me here!" I chuckle
back.

"So the knight told the red-haired queen,
I am on a quest, my lady. A pure white
dragon is out there. I have seen glimpses
of it- a tail here, a few scales scattered on
a hilltop somewhere else. Can you imagine the
renown, if only I could slay it? So far I
have been unsuccessful in my search, but
with your fair presence, I may be able to
charm him into submission. Will you come
with me fair queen? I cannot promise
success, but I can promise an adventure
with which to be reckoned."

I look down into the delicate face of the
woman who lies before me, so like the
queen of my "tale". She has been turned
inside out by the decisions of her heart,
and now another one remains.

"So what did she decide, Mulder?" Scully
presses.

Happy that she has allowed herself to be
carried along by the story, I continue.

"They had now reached a great and teeming
stream. Guinevere had to make a decision.
If she left now, she could still go back
with few questions about her little side
trip. If she decided to go with the
brilliant, yet seemingly crackpot,
Foxwaine, her life would never be the
same. Even though his quest seemed to
consume him, she knew that the same
single-mindedness which he had for that
dragon would soon be turned in her
direction."

I pause.

"So tell me!" she demands.

I lean in until my lips are within a
breath of her ear.

"I can't, Scully. Only you can tell me."
I am sure my pounding heart can be heard
as clearly as my words.

A peace has settled over Scully.
I know because I begin to feel it
as surely as an embrace.

With eyes still closed, she turns on her
side toward me. I involuntarily close
my eyes as well while I await her response:

"Of course she went with Foxwaine. Where
else was, is there for her? Ashes of a
forbidden relationship, remnants of an
empty life? How could these things
hold a candle to the promise of a real
adventure? So yes, of course, she went
with him. How could you ever doubt that?"
she whispers and I can hear the smile in
her voice.

Opening my eyes, I look at her. I know
that Arthur's queen was never more
lovely than the woman before me. Taking her hands,
I lift them to my lips, realizing that her gaze has now
met mine.

"Welcome back to the journey, Scully," I
assure her, ready to begin anew, as I
know my lady is no longer in waiting.
 

END
 

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