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The eerie moonlight seeped in through the crack in the curtains, the thin sliver illuminating the small form that lay spread-eagled in the bed under the window. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow underneath her, and one strand moved slightly with every breath exhaled through her nose, threatening to get tangled in her tiny silver nose ring.
There was a soft but insistent knocking at the door, one which gradually grew louder, and Dana Scully opened her eyes, wishing whoever was there would take the hint proffered by her silence and leave her alone. Rolling onto her side, she reached for her alarm clock and hit the snooze button to light up the display, groaning and throwing her arm over her face when it cheerfully glared a blue 3:02 a.m. against her tired retinas. When the knocking continued, she figured it must be something important, because if it was Michelle returning from the rave she’d tried to drag Scully to, she’d be hollering like a, well, like a drunken college freshman. She swung her bare legs out of bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily and hissing when her toes touched the cheap, cold linoleum. She fumbled for her glasses on the bedside locker, knocking her copy of 1984 to the floor with a thud.
“Hold on, just a second,” she called out, struggling to find a pair of socks to cover her frozen feet, silently cursing herself for falling asleep with her feet out of the covers for the umpteenth time. Her bitten nails scrabbled under her bed for the pair she’d been wearing earlier, and came up with the pair of black fluffy socks with the green aliens that Mulder had given her at Christmas. She pulled them on quickly and stomped to the door.
Her face was pressed up against the door, thinking she probably should have asked the question before she got out of bed, “Who is it?”
“Scully? It’s me, Mulder.” His voice sounded tired, but relieved.
That’s weird, she thought. Wasn't he meant to be at the rave too?
She swung the door open, and, blinking at the harsh light in the hallway, found him in a similar state to herself. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt and black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. She blushed slightly. His hair was sticking up in the back and the edges of his eyes still had sleep in them. From the look on his face, she wasn't looking so hot either. He didn't even comment at her charcoal grey Rumors shirt that was three sizes too big and came to just below her knees.
“Mulder, what is it? Do you know what time it is?” her voice came out grumpier than she meant it to, but she honestly had no idea what he was doing at her door at three in morning. He shifted restlessly from foot to foot, and Scully noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks. She looked back up at him. She sighed, blowing the errant strand of feathery hair from her face and up toward her forehead.
“Just come in, and stand on the rug, but don’t get comfy, okay?” she ordered in her best bossy tone, stepping to the side to grant him access to the room behind her. He ducked his head and walked silently in.
Scully scuttled past him and clambered back under her duvet, pulling it up under her armpits in a sudden case of modesty. She waited as he paced silently on the rug and then shifted her feet as he plonked down on the end of the bed. He ran his hand through his shaggy hair. She smiled to herself- he really needed a haircut.
He was unusually quiet, and it was starting to worry Scully. He was normally so talkative, even late at night, maybe even more so, when it was just the two of them in the library, and he babbled away about his latest conspiracy, not caring who heard, earning glares from the eagle-eyed librarian over their tall stacks of books.
“Mulder? You okay?” she laid a hand on his arm, and only then did he look up. His eyes were watery and large in the silver lighting that the moon cast on his face. Only then did she notice how bitten his lower lip was, all split and cracked down the centre, like he had been chomping into his lip, thinking it was a quarter pounder. Her voice softened.
“Was it another nightmare? About Samantha?” she knew only bits and pieces about Mulder’s little sister, but enough to know that she was a fixture in his dreams and the driving force behind his obsession with anything extra-terrestrial.
He nodded.
“But not about Samantha,” he croaked, breaking eye contact with her and suddenly becoming very interested in his nail beds. Scully tugged insistently on his arm, and he was suddenly reminded of Samantha, begging him to reach the Lucky Charms off the shelf for her.
“It was about you.”
Scully brought her free hand to her mouth, running the centre knuckle of her index finger up and down her upper lip, brushing gently against her Cupid’s bow. Her eyes were big and cerulean blue behind her glasses. It was her turn to be quiet this time, and she let him continue.
“You are- were- in a field with me, I think it was near an army base or something, I’m not sure, but it was beside the sea, really close to the beach, practically on the damn thing, and I remember that so vividly, because when the men in the dark suits grabbed you, and I know, I know that’s a cliché, they knocked me in the back of the neck, near my shoulder, and y’know, usually if that happens, the person blacks out, but I didn’t-” he paused for breath, his pace slowing as he ploughed on, “-I didn’t black out, and that’s what made it so awful, Scully, I could hear the ocean and your screams, you were screaming out my name-” She squeezed his arm reassuringly, but stayed silent, her bent knee straightening and making her left foot peek out as pins and needles sneaked up her leg and exposed her sock to him.
He smiled, pinching her foot playfully and seeming to take heart from the concept of her wearing his gift. He took another deep breath, exhaling loudly. “-and then, because I could see this whole time, I got up and started after you, but I couldn’t get any traction in the sand. All of a sudden, I was there, in this kind of a tent, and you were there too, but-” his voice cracked and he spoke to his hand, which was wrapped around her foot, subconsciously tracing the bright green aliens.
“You were on this table, and there was this huge drill- Sorry if I’m freaking you out, but it gets weirder- and it came down and I tried to run to you, but this really buff guy held me back, he was so strong Scully, and I really tried to get to you, but I couldn’t, and then when he let me go, it was only when you had stopped screaming that he did, I ran to the table, but you were so quiet and small, like small, like a child, like-” “Samantha?” “Yeah. And then I realised why you were so quiet. You were dead, Scully. There was blood everywhere, it made your hair all sticky, and it stained your skin so I couldn’t clean it off. I just-”
“It’s okay, Mulder. It was just a dream, it doesn’t mean anything.” Her tone was gentle and soothing. She touched the side of his face lightly, trying not to reach out and brush his lip with her thumb.
“It was just so real Scully, it was frightening. I hated that I couldn’t help you,” he sighed, pulling lightly on the pieces of hair that flopped into his eyes, and he turned fully to face her, one lock still strapped between his finger and thumb, and he looked at her slightly cross-eyed. He cracked a smile. “Aren’t you lucky to have me come in and wake you up at some godforsaken hour like this? Totally makes me best friend material, huh?”
“Come here, you big goof.” Scully scooted forward on the mattress, trying in vain to wrap her tiny arms around his neck, as he came to meet her, and they clumsily bumped heads. Or rather, she head-butted him right in the nose, and they broke apart, giggling and cursing.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, hand flying to the top of her head, as Mulder, ignoring his own injury, put his hands over hers, completely dwarfing them. “Shit, Scully. Sorry! Looks like I’ll have to stay here and make sure you don’t black out, hmm?” he quipped, ruffling her hair affectionately. Then, catching her off guard, blurted out; “Sculls, can I sleep here tonight? I don’t really feel like explaining to Frohike why I kept shouting your name in my sleep and then spent nearly an hour in the bathroom, you know how he is-”
“Muulderr,” she growled, “I want to sleep-”
“That’s a sure sign, Scully. I’m not gonna leave now, you know.” He smiled at her, knowing she wouldn’t make him leave, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep after what he’d seen in his dreams. She glared at him, and he could see her weighing out the pros and cons, ever the scientist. Finally, the corner of her mouth turned up just a little, and he knew he’d won.
“Okay, Mulder. But strictly no funny business, it’s already four a.m. and I have a lecture at eight.”
“Scout’s Honor, no funny business.” he retorted, holding three fingers to his chest, showing he clearly was never an attendee at any kind of Scouts meeting. Scully rolled her eyes at him, and threw open the duvet, letting him clamber over her and lie down under the windowsill. He lay perfectly still on his back, waiting for her to join him. She honestly expected him to pat the mattress and wiggle his eyebrows at her, but he was calm and observed her with a serene look on his face.
“What?” she demanded, shooting him a sharp look. “Oh, nothing. I’m just glad my dream was just a dream, is all.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks had gone rather pink, and she slid off her glasses and put them on her bedside locker carefully, burrowing further into the covers and eventually turning to her side, keeping her back to him so he wouldn’t see the smile on her face. His tanned arm snuck around her middle, resting just under her ribs, and he pulled her gently to him, breathing in the scent of her hair. He felt her go stock still under his touch, and he whispered in her hair, tickling her ear.
“No funny business, I swear.” She could feel the smirk against her hair, and she knew he wasn’t lying. She relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes.
“Sweet dreams, Mulder.”