Title: Masayume Author: Dantzi Jean and Kailee White E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com and Emily_Jane99@hotmail.com Rating: G Category: M/S friendship, Scully POV, V Timeline: during and after "All Things" Disclaimer: They aren't ours and we wouldn't want the headaches those actors cause so we only write about them and dream of owning them. Spoilers: Just about everything through All Things Summary: "Masayume"- Japanese for "a dream that comes true. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- I float, suspended in the air, a bodiless feeling coming to me, settling itself upon my limbs, paralyzing me. I feel no fear; the sense of weightlessness soothes me. I embrace the feeling, opening my arms and relish in this new freedom. The abundant darkness surrounds me, filling my eyes with its vastness. The garish and harsh light of day has disappeared, leaving me with a warm and soothing blackness. I take pleasure from in this feeling, and for one, all too brief moment I have discovered true peace. It does not consume me, but rather takes all of my daily concerns and worries and hides them, shielding my mind from their burden. I am free. That serenity is short-lived, as I am ripped from my comforting sphere of weightlessness and night, and I fall. I fall into nothingness, the speed of my descent lifting my white gown as I fly through the darkness. I feel as if I've been shot through the air from a cannon and am hurtling downward, toward an emptiness that is raw and unknown, into a darkness I do not wish to fathom. I feel panic rise through my body, breaking through every shred of sanity I hold close, the yell of terror about to escape from my lungs, as if the noise itself will somehow stop my periless and inevitable fall into this vast void. I cannot scream. I cannot move. I still fall, never-ending. And as quickly as I had begun to fall, torn away from the comfort of the softness of the night, time begins to linger, everything playing in slow motion. The blackness of my descent coming alive with color. Images take shape before my eyes, blinding me with their vibrancy and intensity. I see myself, a young green agent, walking through the myriad of people toward the office of Section Chief Blevins, a man I would later come to despise, a man who lied to the world, who would risk killing billions of innocent people in order to save himself. I see the old man, smoking a cigarette, lurking in the corner, trying to avert my glances. I can almost smell the foul, putrid stench as the smoke rises and dances across my nose. I fall so fast through these images that most of them don't make sense, falling in completely random patterns that my mind is only slightly aware of. I know these faces and feelings. I feel my own want and need to prove myself to the man sitting in his chair before me. I am reminded of this moment, all those years ago, and suddenly I do not shake with fear. And then, blackness. The images disappear, their illumination leaving their resonating effect within my mind as I close my eyes. The air rushes past my body, pressing my dress up against me, skin tight. I still fall. I fall through my own image, as if it were smoke from the man's cigarettes. And once again, I am thrown into the overwhelming darkness of this incredible void. The feeling of terror replaces the peace and serenity those short, dim memories have brought me. Another manifestation becomes visible in front of my eyes. I recall the memory as if it had happened only days, not years ago. The image of a man's car pulling in behind my own plays before me, as if I were watching my life pass as a movie in front of me. I see the fear reflected in my own eyes as I approach the old man's vehicle with the small parcel clutched within my arms. I argue with him, protesting the inevitable events. The man seems apprehensive as we observe a white van approaching, driving past us and parking in front of us a few meters ahead. I relinquish the precious parcel and walk towards my own car, the man walks to the white van, clutching the package holding the proof Mulder had been searching for, the proof I was trading for his life. Voices behind my car grasp my attention, the memories flooding back to me as I am forced to watch the driver shoot Deep Throat, and Mulder's lifeless body thrown neglectfully from the back of the van. I run towards them, first checking on Mulder, who groans in pain, a sign of consciousness. I leave him, confident in my quick assessment of his injuries. The other man, who's chest is heaving heavily, is critically injured. I lift his head, but the sensible part of me knows it is too late to do anything. His parting words have been engraved on my soul and branded into my memory and they will always serve me in my work. "Trust no one," he says, his last gasp for breath escaping his mouth. The words resonate in my mind as the image disappears, and I continue to descend into the darkness, falling faster and faster. My body falls rapidly, the air punishing my face with incredible strength, my hair whipping behind me. I cannot see how far I have fallen, the sheer force of my descent renders any action impossible. And as quickly as I am able to understand my surroundings, my body ceases to drop, and I slow with gentle movements. Before my eyes, the black surroundings become light, the whiteness of my environment impairing my sight. In front of me, I see my father, sitting in my living room chair, speaking in words I cannot hear, words I cannot make sense of. This sight brings much pain to me, and I feel the tears begin to fall. Luther Lee Boggs claims he is a medium for the dead, and I see my father in him. As hard as it is for me to believe that he couldn't contact my father, I can't deny it. Luther Lee Boggs vanishes, his face and his chained hands become a whisp of clouds as I fall farther and farther into nothingness, though the light does not seem to return to it's original state of pitch black. It seems as if some of the vision has remained, leaving a slight resonating effect upon the darkness. So slight the difference, however, I cannot discern whether I just want to think something might be at the end of this endless descent, or if there really is a light at the conclusion of my perilous drop into the unknown. I do not know where this will end, when these images will cease, where I will end up, if I will end up. The uncertainty frightens me, my fate eluding me. So much of my work rides on the unknown, my search into it's truth, and yet this plunge into darkness has no end in sight. That is what truly frightens me. All of a sudden, he has me from behind, this crazy man trembling with what I remember to believe as fear and desperation. A light, incredibly white, shines from above, freezes the image in my place and holds me captive. I was so scared then, with due cause of course. I see myself, in the clutches of this man, and not knowing whether or not to move, or to run for my life. I remember fighting his grip around me, thinking with determination that at any moment, Mulder would show up and pull me from Duane Barry's control. But then the bright, intense, blinding light consume the image in front of me, and all becomes black. My body picks up speed as it continues to plummet into the void beneath me. With each second that passes, I fall further and further away from where I started. But I don't even know where that is. I can't go back to where I came from when I don't know how to get there or where I'm going in the first place. I can't help but tremble at the thought that I might not wake up from this terrible dream, that these visions might become more frequent, and that I might be only play spectator to my life for quite some time. I don't fight the fall anymore. I have realized that it is useless, that no matter how hard I try to turn, you can't fight the laws of physics and gravity. A vision presents itself, and immediately I feel nauseated and want to go back to the comforts of my bed, wrapped up in the covers and go to sleep. I see him, the devil's personification of the perfect human, standing before me in his open door, knife in hand. I close my eyes, not wanting to see the ensuing events, but knowing how the movie that is my life plays out, I can't turn away. I fight him, Donnie Pfaster, with my life's strength and all that I have left in me. Our cat and mouse game ends as quickly as it begins, as we fight for his dropped weapon. I try to fire his gun and he knocks it carelessly from my hands, trying to hold me down with the weight of his body. Mulder and Detective Bocks pound through Pfaster's door and have him in their gun's sights within seconds. And then I am free, with the bonds off my hands, and in Mulder's arms, protected and safe. He lifts my chin, looking at the fear I tried so hard to hide, and I realized I didn't need to keep that from him. I could be human for a moment, and cry. I breathe a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding. Even as the events are past me, part of my history, mine and Mulder's, they still carry the same amount of fear that they did when they actually happen. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened had I done something different, had I gone left instead of right, stayed with Mulder instead of going to do an autopsy. I guess I can never know. I remember, now that I see this new vision in front of me, how hard it is to lose a loved one, especially your only sister. Sitting at the side of her hospital bed, with Mulder beside the image of myself, I try to make sense of the events, trying to justify her death. I can't. It's impossible. She was an innocent person whose life was taken by people intending to take mine. Mulder tries his best to comfort me, pulling me close as we embrace by her bedside. That vision vanishes, leaving me with a longing to hold Melissa once again, to be with her, to laugh and cry and to feel real. In place of the dark, dreary hospital room, I now find myself in a room quite like the one I just saw, except I wasn't sitting down by Mulder in a black suit, but encased in a bullet-proof vest, tears coming to my face in front of me as I watch Robert Patrick Modell push Mulder into attempting suicide. I detest that man, I fear for my life, I fear for Mulder, and I am shocked when he points the gun at the woman portrayed in front of me, even though I have lived this moment in reality, and in the nightmares that followed. I run from the room as I hear Mulder shoot the gun, nearly killing Modell with the one blast. I wish he had. And then, Mulder vanishes in a cloud of smoke right in front of my eyes, and I fall through his apparition as if he had never even been there. The falling doesn't bother me anymore. There is no use in questioning it, or fighting it. It won't get me anywhere, it won't pull me from this nightmare, from these images from my past that seem to haunt me. And after a few seconds of blackness, I wonder whether these visions have ceased. But before I could even finish my thought, the blinding whiteness of another vision presents itself before me. I recognize myself, sitting next to Mulder as he is regressed into his past, trying to make sense of Melissa Riedal-Ephesian's allegations, trying to understand his past, his connections with her. As Mulder digresses, delving further into his subconscious, I remember questioning the reliability of these proceedings. Now that I am forced to look back upon these moments, I remember despising Melissa Ephesian, how she could manipulate Mulder's emotions so profoundly that he didn't even know what was happening around him. They are connected, he says, forever, in this life and the next. And it doesn't matter what I believe, honestly, because if Mulder believes in her, in their soul-connection, then I can't do anything to stop it. I couldn't then, and I can't now. So many images, so many memories. My life is passing in front of my eyes. Maybe this is what death is like, a slow procession of all your most momentous memories taking shape in front of you before you pass on. Mulder vanishes before me, disappears into a mist of vapors that my body falls through on my way down to nowhere. Before long, a new form takes shape, the setting of my office, mine and Mulder's. Since I have spent many days in that office I had a hard time figuring out the particular event, but before long, a dried rose petal on the desk before me dragged the memory forward, forcing me to remember. Ed Jerse. Mulder and I were talking about Ed Jerse, and my actions in Philadelphia. I remember not wanting to defend myself to him, that there was no reason to. I tried to explain that not everything was about him, that I needed to lead my own life. Mulder's response awakened a feeling inside of me. I now know, looking at this picture, that he wasn't being over-zealous, protective or plain rude, but he was concerned because he cared. I don't even notice the image disappear and a new one take shape. It has become routine. I again see an image of myself, but paralyzed on a hospital bed, sick. I was dying with the cancer which at one time had consumed me until I was not sure if I was myself at all, but a host for which this disease could breed. I was afraid, afraid for what Mulder was telling the FBI panel, afraid for his future. And I had no control. I couldn't be there for him, I couldn't help him. I pray with a priest. My lips and his move in sync with each other's, knowing the words to the prayers we are saying by heart. I feel the fear I felt at that moment. It comes alive in me, rising within my body. My lips move, speaking the familiar prayer "'Hail Mary, mother of God...'" I felt as if both our lives were lost, and utter despair. But my faith brought me hope, hope I thought I had lost along the way. Right now, I have hope that one day this dream will end and I will be able to resume my life, without the fear of constantly falling, not knowing where I'll end up. I begin to fall again. The sensation of my body slowing relinquishes my fear, and the light which I can see on the horizon beckons to me, clearing and almost disappears into another image of my life, almost as if someone has turned the pages on my life's memory book. A new page comes into focus. This memory is one that brings joy and fear to my mind. I hear the familiar sound of my off-key voice, and the sight of myself holding Mulder, trying to keep him warm. His face shows surprise at me. I regard the tree-line warily, looking for any sign of the intruders we have come to look for. He asks for the chorus to my song and I obligingly give it to him, warning him that he will regret it later. I remember wanting to hold him closer, calming him and keeping him safe. And in that moment, I became calm. I fall again, listening to the sound of my voice being swallowed in the fall, hearing it fade into the distance, lost to my ears. This time I feel the emotions deep within me before my eyes see them on my face in front of me. I feel for the child at my feet. I feel the want deep within me to have that child, to make her a part of myself. I felt an ache within myself to become that child's mother. I wanted to see her grow, I wanted to see her live and become her own person. I wanted her. I saw her then and my throat clogged with emotions, which were overwhelming to me. I watch as her small child-like hand reaches out and touches the delicate gold cross at my neck. I look into her eyes and see the wonder there. I reach around my own neck and grab the clasp and undo it. I put my arms around her small frame and secure the gold chain. She reaches out and lovingly strokes the small token I have given her. I feel a tap on my shoulder and I know it is time for her to go. I reluctantly pull away, and the door closes behind me and I see her in the small child's seat through the window. I watch the van ride away with that small treasure of life inside, a life that perished too soon. I see my own fear grace my features. I worried and I wondered. For one small, tenuous moment I had a daughter, and she was mine. And I knew, for one moment, that no one, not even the men who took her from this world, can take her memory from me. I reach out into the vision, wanting to feel her baby-soft skin in my hands one more time, to be met with nothingness and the long fall from that nothingness into a sunrise of light and darkness. My head swivels upward wanting one last glance at my daughter only to be met with a vision which takes its place. A full smile breaks on my face as I see what page of my life this is. Mulder stands above me, his arm extended in a very sanguine manner. I look at it, wondering what it is he is up to. I reach out and grab it only to be pulled into an embrace, which I wish could have lasted forever. He smiles a slow and sensuous smile that's contagious. He slowly rocks us back and forth setting a rhythm to the music. His eyes don't leave mine and a smile breaks out on my face. I move with him as we dance, Cher's music taking over, and his hazel eyes light with delight. I smile at the sight of us. The dance slows and we move accordingly, we look up at the stage and then we look back at each other, smiling all the while. As if being dropped out of the sky, I am again falling, the air flying by me. I can see through the semi-darkness, but that sight is restricted as the speed I have accumulated makes it impossible to comprehend anything more then a blur. Then time begins to slow, another picture coming to my sight. I see the moment which has much occupied my mind since its occurrence 2 years ago. Standing the hallway, I see myself and Mulder. His hands come to gently cup my face. Touched by his words and his sincerity, I reach and kiss the top of his forehead. I see the tears that threaten to break loose from their tenuous barrier of my eyes. Then something in his eyes change, and I smile, quietly thanking him with my expression. He doesn't smile back, and I feel the tension of the moment. He leans in, invading my personal space, and any barriers I had set between us. He brings his lips closer, and closer. I feel myself lean toward the image, patiently waiting for what is to come. I feel his breath against my skin, and as our mouths inch closer, wanting to explore this new facet, I feel a sharp pain on the back of my neck and, seeking refuge, I bury my head in his chest. Confused, he apologizes. But something isn't right. I tell him of the stinging sensation on my neck and he affectionately rubs the back of my head and my neck. I lift the bee, and I am forced to remember the pain and regret as the symptoms start to worsen. I felt each breath become harder and harder to take, and my vision beginning to fade. Then I see nothing but blackness as my body crumbles to the floor. The next scene take shape rapidly, and makes me smile to myself. I see myself and Mulder, standing in his apartment. I'm tired from the events of the day. Unable to get the night's incredible and unusual out of my mind, I go to his apartment. We stand and talk, then he shyly announces that he has a present for me. I'm touched by his sentiment. I smile. And I tell him I have one for him too. He rewards me with a smile of his own. We exchange packages and head for the couch, as if we were two children who have woken up and found Santa had left goodies for us under the tree. We open our gifts, and before I can see what happens next, the memory fades to black, and I resume my fall. In the beginning of this unexplained trip down memory lane, I was surrounded by dark and coldness. That has dissipated and left me with a lovely light gray glow, which surrounds me, calming my fear. The glow is replaced by another vision of myself and Mulder. This was a happy time, making me smile at the memory. He holds me close with the bat in front of me. I hear his deep baritone voice from behind me, giving me a crash course in professional baseball. "Hips before hands" he says, as he gives me a first hand demonstration. We swing the bat in a slow motion. Then the balls start flying, his voice becomes louder with the excitement of the moment. He starts babbling about the letting go of our "nagging concerns of the day. " I laugh and hit the multitude of balls flying at me. My reverie is interrupted as I fall again from this moment into another, still hearing my laughter echo in my mind. This next vision does not bring a smile to my face, but only serves to take it away. I see myself walk into a room with television sets. I'm angry and I turn on Skinner. I see my brilliant partner reduced to this pathetic form, hovering in the back of the small room. The injustice of what I see before me flames through my mind. Agent Fowly enters the room, as does a doctor. I protest, raising my voice in front of them all. This form before me is not my Mulder; this is some person they have created. He's not insane, and certainly is not going to die. This is not him. I want to yell these things at them, make them all believe me. But I just walk from the room. I know that to find the answer to what is wrong with him is to explore the unexplained things I have discovered. Skinner follows me as does Fowly, and my anger flies. I cannot hold it down any longer. "You're both liars!" I spit out at them, as I stalk away from them. I leave determined to save him from this illness. I know the answers are right in front of me. I will save him. I have to. And as this is happening before me, as I relive it, I am proud to say I was right all along. Immediately, I see myself, walking down his all to familiar hallway, and knocking on Mulder's apartment door. He opens the door momentarily, wearing his New York Yankees hat over his head bandages. He tells me that Albert Hosteen had died last night, coming from a two week coma, and that there was no possible way that he could have been in my apartment, praying with me for Mulder's safe return. Even now, I am floored by the news, trying to understand how any of this is even plausible. And I had to tell Mulder about Diana. There was no way around it. She had helped me find him, despite her previous entanglements. It scared me so much, that I didn't know who I was anymore, who I could trust, or what I was even doing. But Mulder, he made me feel whole again. He called me his "touchstone," telling me he too didn't know who to trust once. And now, as I watch this play out before me, I remember how that made me feel, how I ached to hold him when his hands graced my face, how I wanted to tell him just how he was able to reach me inside. But this wasn't the right time. I kissed his forehead, carefully avoiding his wounds, and replaced his hat upon his head. And because he smiled his smile, I knew everything would be right again. I was flooded with a warm, almost hazy feeling, as I watched myself walk away from Mulder. And, as if I were pushed from behind, I begin to tumble through the image, falling further and further each second. I've noticed my surroundings change progressively. The complete blackness of the air has lightened to a light gray, giving me some opportunity to take stock of what actually is happening around me. All around me, I see gray. A fuzzy, light, cloudy gray. Something is happening, something is changing. This has to lead somewhere. And just as I am exploring my immediate environment, another image presents itself to me. And all at once, my emotions run over as I see myself, a sling-armed Mulder, and the New Year's Ball drop in Times Square. That was such an important day in our lives, so momentous and revealing. As I watch the ball drop, I am given an opportunity to see how the events played out from an outsider's perspective. It's interesting to notice how I looked then, how Mulder looked as we kiss. There was no regret there, no awkwardness, no hesitancy. It felt perfect, just the right step in our relationship. And as the memory fades into the gray surroundings, I am left with a great feeling residing in me. I don't even notice I am falling anymore. I feel so strange, reliving all of my memories. It is very odd, disconcerting somewhat. But before I can analyze anything, a more recent, humorous memory comes to play. I see myself, wearing more armor than the majority of our military does, Mulder on the ground beside me, and Maitreya the cowgirl threatening us with her gun. So I shoot. What's there to do? I wasn't about to leave Mulder in there with her. Round after round from my gun I continue to defeat Maitreya. And when I think I've finished, that she's gone, a huge tank comes at us, ready to kill us at any moment's notice. So we run, hide in the module, hoping it would provide some sort of protection from that woman. Sooner said than done, the Gunman and Phoebe are there, prying open the door and finding us intact. Holding that huge gun, I must admit, was quite the rush. I might not agree with the reasoning behind such a game, or the reasons that men come to partake in such trivialities, but it was fun. I will say that much. And again, I begin to fall. Picking up speed, it seems that my descent has become much faster than I remember. All of a sudden, my anxiety and fear has returned as I fall further and further, faster and faster. Nothing comes before me, no image, no vision, nothing. Just continuous whiteness, as I fall. There is a light, bright and vivid, right before me, blinding me with it's luminescence. It grows stronger and stronger as I approach it's origin, a "light at the end of the tunnel" you might say. I am flying so fast, so much faster than before. Suddenly, nothing. I've stopped, someone pressing on my brakes. I just sit, suspended. I look around me, and all I see is bright white. I can't tell from where I came, or where I'm going. I'm just surrounded by such intense light. Then, before me, an image slowly makes its way through the brightness, slowly taking shape. I see myself, and Mulder, laying under a bedspread, bodies close, talking in the dark. I had fallen asleep during our earlier conversation, about Daniel, about all of our life changes and how we turned up. I remember, I woke up, unaware of where I was, what I was doing, when instantly I recognized the surroundings of Mulder's apartment. I walked slowly to his room, as to not disturb him. I looked at the clock, it was around 4 am. To my surprise, he was awake, reading a book on Crop Circles. I sat on the end of his bed, and we talked, really talked, about life, about the choices that we'd made, and about fate. He asked me if I was sorry if I had made the choices that I had, and I smiled. Although I would do things a little differently, nothing would alter the way I felt then. I was happy to be there, with him, together. And he smiled. I crawled under his covers with him, and we continued talking. It felt really, really good to have a decent adult conversation with someone again. And I found out that Mulder was happy too. That made me smile. I felt whole, complete. __________________ I awake, and groggily pull the covers up to my neck. It's not time to get up yet, it's still dark outside my window. I feel warm, comfortable. But a new sensation makes its way through my dazed mind. I'm not alone. An arm is snaked around my waist, resting there, possessively. I turn my head slightly, and I find Mulder's head, asleep on the pillow next to mine. I begin to wonder what is going on, why this man is next to me in bed, when it all comes back to me, the floodgates opening and the last nights events come back to me. I woke up from my sleep, as confused as I was moments ago. I walked to Mulder's bedroom, and found him awake, reading a book. He saw me standing in his doorway, and put his book down, beckoning me to join him in bed. I sat on the end of his bed, and we talked. We talked about Daniel, my feelings for him, and the major decisions that shaped our lives thus far. He didn't ask me, but I knew he wanted to know. I told him that I was happy with where I was. I wouldn't take anything back, because that would mean not ending up being with him. I wish I could have changed the way things happened along the way, but I wouldn't change where I am in my life right now. He accepted my response, and pulled down the covers next to him. I crawled in, and he settled himself behind me, his body molding around mine. His right arm came across my side, pulling me closer, and he whispered "I wouldn't change anything either, Scully." I smiled, laid my hand within his, and closed my eyes. It was a beautiful night. I had the strangest dream though. I was falling, and kept seeing all these images of my life in front of me, as a third party. I couldn't participate at all, I just watched. Time slowed in my dream, so I could watch each and every memory with meticulous attention. I never really understand my dreams, they vary with odd randomness. But this one, it's timing, it can't be ignored. These memories that came to me, they were of the major events in my life, and how I reacted in them. I am genuinely happy with where I ended up. Though I wish my father and my sister were here with me, I wouldn't change any one of those decisions. They make me who I am, and they set me towards Mulder. I don't regret one thing, as I lay here with this man asleep next to me. It feels right, as if I've been directed here, to this moment. And I am happy. Utterly, truly, honestly happy, for one of the first times in my life. I snuggle down deep under the sheets, pulling Mulder's arm closer to my, laying mine upon his. As I drift off to sleep, I turn and look at Mulder's sleeping face. I know this path is right. It's led me to him. ___________ The end! Finally! Send all comments to phantom_lass@hotmail.com AND emily_jane99@hotmail.com