Dreamcatcher 17
Ally

Dreamcatcher. May 5th, 1999. Time unknown.

Scully's first conscious thought was that she was cold. Not the kind of chill that comes as a result of leaving her bedroom window open on a blustery night. Because on the odd occasions she had made that mistake, awoken shivering slightly as the wind whipped around the old Georgian building she called home, she had simply risen sleepily and closed the window. Wasting no time, she would then cross back over to the bed and huddle beneath the weight of the comforter, hardly even fully awakening before sleep once again overtook her.

But this was different.

This was a cold that invaded her very core, turning her to ice. Unrelenting, unimaginable *cold*.

She groaned slightly and reached out a hand to grope for the covers she assumed she had kicked off during the night. Instead of soft cotton, her outstretched fingertips connected suddenly with a hard, cold, slightly damp surface. The impact was enough to elicit a gasp of pain as the unyielding surface bent the digits back on themselves.

Jolted almost fully awake now, Scully forced her eyes open, bringing her injured hand to her mouth as she did so. But instead of her mouth, she encountered some kind of substance plastered across her parted lips. Slightly glutinous to the touch, it too was freezing.

She tried to open her mouth, to shout for help.

{Mulder!}

But the tube that snaked down the back of her throat prevented her from making a sound. It caused her to gag reflexively as she began clawing at her face.

{Oh, God, Mulder...help me...I can't breathe...}

Her efforts to free herself were futile, and were hampered by her rising sense of horror as she began to recognize her surroundings.

{Antarctica.}

{Mothership.}

Tears began to trickle down her face, becoming frozen mere seconds after they gained release, and Scully slammed her eyes shut as she shook her head from side to side.

{This is *not* happening. It's impossible.}

Even as she repeated the denial over and over, she could feel a faint fluttering from deep within her stomach as the fetus within her turned slightly, nourishing itself in readiness for its birthing.

And somewhere inside herself, Dana Scully began to scream.

**********

Eeazy Sleep Motel Cleveland, Ohio 1:20 p.m.

Mulder raised his arms above his head wearily, stretching deeply as he attempted to release the kinks from his neck. Lack of sleep and too much caffeine had resulted in a headache which had swelled to mammoth proportions as the morning wore on.

Hunching over Scully's laptop for the last three hours had hardly helped matters, and not for the first time he was painfully aware that he wasn't getting any younger.

There was a time, he reflected ruefully, when he could go days without sleep, forgoing rest when in the grip of a difficult case, relying on his endless stores of nervous energy to see him through.

Now, though, his body was screaming abuse at him for putting it through this kind of torture. Pushing forty was not a good age to be pulling an all-nighter, Mulder decided.

As the computer's screen once more blurred and danced before his eyes, Mulder finally removed his glasses and rose gingerly to his feet. Ignoring the pain in his head, which he was barely keeping under control with over- the-counter pills, he crossed the small room to where the beverage rack jostled for position with a kettle on the small, chipped shelf. Without bothering to rinse his cup, he simply shook more low budget coffee granules into it and refilled it. He didn't bother searching for the cream and sugar.

Slightly more alert as the evil-tasting brew washed over his tongue, he wondered idly if he would soon be dispensing with the water and just chowing down on spoonfuls of the stuff.

It wasn't a pleasant prospect.

Despite this, he returned to the laptop. He had chosen to work from Scully's room, telling himself that it was just easier that way, since she already had the computer hooked up to a modem connection.

In truth, though, he simply needed to feel close to her.

{Face it, Mulder, old buddy: you can't function without her anymore.}

He blinked, as he banged the coffee mug down on the surface violently enough for some of its contents to slosh over the side.

"SHIT!"

Bolting to his feet, he spun around suddenly and slammed a hand into the flimsy wall in front of him.

The impact sent a slashing pain up his forearm as his aching muscles protested at this sudden harsh treatment. But the pain itself was a release, allowing him to calm a little.

"Where the hell are you, Scully?" he muttered.

Sighing heavily, he grabbed some tissue from Scully's night stand and carefully mopped up the spilt liquid that seemed intent on marking a path towards her computer.

Mulder smiled ruefully. Scully's ever- present laptop was like an extension of herself. It had accompanied them on every single case they had ever worked on, and she had only one rule regarding it: He wasn't allowed to use it without her being present to supervise.

She would be less than pleased if he wound up returning it to her with its innards clogged with caffeine.

If, of course, he wound up returning it to her at all.

The thought sobered him immediately, and he once again took a seat in front of the glowing screen. Tapping his fingers absentmindedly for a few seconds, he finally replaced his glasses. An idea had been building inside of him for some time now, pushing up to the surface. Demanding his attention.

Felicia Slabbert. The twelve-year-old girl who, he was pretty sure, held the answers he needed.

Mulder blinked rapidly, and began his search.

**********

Dreamcatcher. May 5th Time unknown.

Scully groaned softly, feeling the warm weight of the blankets that covered her. No longer cold, she realized with a sudden jolt of relief that she had been dreaming. Just a nightmare that had transported her back into that cold, dark place she had almost succeeded in pushing to the back of her mind.

Occasionally the horror reasserted itself through dreams, but for the most part, she was able to ignore it. To file it away to join all the other horrors she had witnessed over the last six years.

Hiding behind walls. Persuading herself that it had never even happened at all.

But slowly, the nightmare receded back to where it belonged and Scully became more aware of voices around her. Whispered voices, voices that seemed to come from far away.

"How's she doing?"

{Skinner?}

What the hell was Skinner doing in her bedroom? What the hell was he doing in Cleveland?

Scully dragged her mind back, fighting through the layers of fog that seemed to overwhelm her.

And then Mulder's voice, broken, fragile, full of despair. "Not good. It...it won't be much longer."

She could hear the tears plainly. Could recognize the way he tried to hold them back, unwilling to show weakness in front of their boss.

{Much longer? Much longer until *what*?}

Had something happened that she was unaware of?

Scully struggled to open her eyes, panic rising as she realized with horror that her weighted lids refused to cooperate. But through it all, she could feel his hand covering hers. Tempering her fear just a notch. Making it bearable at least.

"I'm sorry, Mulder." Skinner again, his voice also breaking with the strain. "I know how hard you tried. I know how hard you tried to save her...and I'm here, to ask you to reconsider..."

He trailed off, and Scully felt the weight of Mulder's head as it lowered to rest against her chest.

He was crying. Crying hard.

{Oh, God, Mulder, what is it? What's happened to me?}

"Leave me alone."

His words were muffled, she could feel the vibrations of them through her body.

"Mulder...please...quitting the Bureau isn't the answer. It won't bring her back."

"I *said*, leave me the fuck alone!"

She flinched inwardly at the venom in his tone, listening as Skinner's footsteps eventually receded in answer to Mulder's plea.

And then he was speaking again, his words almost lost in the wracking sobs that seemed intent on tearing her apart inside. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry. I did try...I tried so damn hard...and I know you can't hear me right now..."

{I can hear you, Mulder. I can hear you. Oh, God, what's happening to me?}

"...but I need you to know that...I tried. I always tried."

Scully fought against the buzzing in her ears, straining to hear his whispered words. But slowly, they faded into nothingness as a dreadful realization hit.

{Cancer? God, no. This can't be real. Not like this, please not like this.}

"Scully?"

The buzzing became louder, more insistent, and she was only barely aware as Mulder gathered her violently against him, rocking her gently, smoothing his hands against her hair.

Her last thought was one of abject horror as his anguished wail imprinted itself on her soul forever.

"Sculleeeeee! Oh, Christ, no, no, no..."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her once again alone.

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