Disclaimer: You don't need an Oxford degree to know what this disclaimer will say.

A/N: Part of this story is based on a dream that I had a few nights ago. Thank you, crazysockmonkeys, for encouraging me to turn my dream into a fan fiction!

Note: Set during Scully's cancer.

Only In Dreams

Dana Scully sat on a weathered bench in front of the Potomac river, admiring clusters of pure snowflakes as they cascaded softly from from the sky, swirling and mingling with one another in the current of a mild winter's breeze before landing on the ground and adding to the few inches of snow that partially hid Washington's grassy parks and cemented sidewalks. Others landed in the river before her and melted away as the water's current carried them off. Any carefree passerby delighting in the view would be sure to take full pleasure in the tranquility and purity of the wintery scene, and Scully would also agree to the beauty of it. But Scully was not a carefree woman- her work and life no longer afforded her innocence- nor was she healthy either, and as much as she would hate to say it, she would have to admit that this weather was almost disturbing as it was beautiful. Although it wasn't too cold outside, Scully shifted slightly on the bench and pulled her trenchcoat more snugly around her and sighed. If anything, she was frozen with fear; fear brought on by the agressiveness of her cancer, of its inevitable effect. The symptoms were mild for now, but subtle reminders of its existence were beginning to show, and the weather seemed to mock her troubles. The sky above was foggy and pale, much like the flesh of her own skin was starting to become. Fortunately it wasn't too visible at this stage, but a close look would reveal that she definitely lost a little weight and color in her face. As more snow continued to fall gently to the ground, she thought about the grass in the parks and leaves on the trees, suffocating under the weight of flakes as they continued to pile on one another. It was much like the fate of her body and bloodstream, doomed to suffer the effects as mutated cells slowly and progressively increased in number, spreading throughout.

Scully wished she didn't have to take a sight so serene and have such a dark perception of it. Things once so simple now became so complicated. She continued to stare into the metaphor of her fears, lost in thought. Here, she could be honest, allow herself time to be afraid, so that she could better cope with what was to come. She let her fears quietly flood her mind, letting her mental guard down.

Suddenly she was startled from the realms of her reverie by the familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder. The contact contrasted to the mild winter chill, leaving Scully with a sensation of warmth brought on by the care and friendship expressed in that simple touch. "Hello, Mulder." She greeted him without facing him and then scooted to one side of the bench to make room for him. Silently he seated himself next to her, brushing off bits of snow that had landed on the arms and shoulders of his own trench coat, and then used one hand to pull back a few strands of Scully's hair, slightly moistened by melted flakes, and push them behind her ear. His message range loud and clear: she was not alone, and she didn't have to hide. Scully knew this, and here, in this state, she would not recoil from that.

Mulder then brushed his hand along her pale cheek, and gently fingered red rims marking where the skin around her eyes was just barely starting to sink in. She did not shy from his touch, and she was not ashamed to let him see the true effects of the disease. For a moment she glanced at him, and then returned her gaze back to the Potomac river, eyeing its uninterrupted current and wishing her own life could run just as smoothly. After a minute of staring, her partner's voice broke the silence. "What's wrong, Scully?" he asked softly.

She closed her eyes for a moment and spoke the simple truth: "I'm afraid, Mulder." Her partner nodded in understanding. He knew what she meant and didn't have to say anything. Wordlessly, he draped one arm across her shoulders and pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. Scully closed her eyes and leaned into Mulder, sensing now that sunshine was starting to break through the clouds, melting away some of the snow on the ground and allowing life to breathe again, completely refreshed. In Mulder's arms, she felt her own fears were melting away, too, and her hopes rejuvenating.

…...

Dana Scully opened her eyes, rested from a rare full night's sleep, and turned her head to see that the morning sun had begun to bleed through the window, marking the start of a new day. She groaned, wishing she could continue sleeping, go back to the place where she could admit her fears without shaming her strength. Only in dreams could she allow herself this, and accept Mulder's offer of comfort without pushing it away. It was a shame, she mused to herself, that she could not allow herself these indulgences in the real state of existence. To allow others to care for her, to admit she had never been more scared in her life, would destroy any testament to her strength and will-power. Cancer aside, she had enough challenges to face, such as being a female agent in the FBI, or the "boys' club," as she had once called it. Achieving respect meant keeping her guard up 24/7, or at least trying to. And now she had a cancer to battle; to confess her fears would make it look like she had given up. But Dana Scully wasn't a quitter, she could handle her own problems. And that was the image she would display for all to see, Mulder included.

Reluctantly she got out of bed and made her way to her closet, choosing a navy blue pant suit, a matching pair of 3-inch heels, and a white blouse to wear underneath her suit jacket. After she dressed for work, she made her way to the bathroom, grabbed a brushed, and applied heat to force out the waves in her hair and style it straight. Grabbing her cosmetics bag, she made up her face to hide the pale hue starting to show, adding color to her cheeks and lips where it appeared to be dwindling. Once she had eaten breakfast and was ready for her day, Scully finally placed her golden cross, the symbol of her faith, around her neck. With her final defense in place, she grabbed her keys and briefcase, and left for another day of work.

In all honesty, this routine of steeling herself against the hardships of life was really beginning to wear on her, and there were days she longed for a break from it. She did her best though, to never let it show, knowing that she would reserve this desire, and act on it, only in dreams.