A/N : Yupp you guessed it. Vengeance here again. So this is my first X-Files Fanfic, and also my first attempt at a One-Shot! So I'd love to know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the X-Files. Not even David Duchovny! *Unhappy Face*
It was strange to Fox Mulder as he sat in the backseat of the black FBI issue SUV. He had decided to try and figure out what Father Joe was playing at. It was crowded sitting in the middle. Father Joe on his right, while Scully sat on his left fast asleep, using his shoulder as a pillow. His arm had long gone fallen asleep, and he couldn't even wiggle his fingers, he didn't try to move or change his position however. He knew Scully didn't want to be there, uneasy being around the convicted pedophile, but she stayed. Stayed because he needed her, the way she had always stayed with him.
He knew they were still a few hours from the crime scene, and he was tired as well. The two agents in the front were talking quietly about this and that, so he laid his head down on Scully's gently, and closed his eyes. He never really got to falling asleep because, just as he was drifting off a few quiet gasps echoed like thunder through the SUV. At least it sounded loud to Mulder, who had heard them a few times before. He knew them as a tell tale sign that Scully was most likely having a nightmare. Mulder should have known that working another X-File, even helping with one might do this to her. Send memories back to haunt her. He wanted to help, make the nightmare stop, but he didn't want to wake her.
He moved his head away from where he had laid it and look to see if anyone else had noticed her quiet talking. The two agents in front didn't seem to notice anything, and just continued talking amongst themselves. Father Joe on the other hand, was looking at Scully. Mulder's first instinct was slightly put off, knowing Father Joe's track record, but then calmed slightly when he saw he didn't seem to have any wrong intentions. He seemed to be staring at his lips, probably trying to decipher the cryptic movements that formed words. After making sure there wasn't any cruel intent in Father Joe's looks so he turned back to Scully. He gently tried to start and move his arm from where it was trapped in between their two bodies. It was slow going as his arm had still been asleep and then as he moved it, the pins and needles started to attack his arm and hand. Though after a minute or two, he managed to get his arm unpinned and moved it up over his head, trying to stay still because Scully seemed to start to rouse.
As she settled again, this time tucking her face into the nap of his neck, he managed to move his arm around so it was wrapped around her shoulders. He hugged her closer to his body; even asleep Scully gave no resistance, and found herself comfortingly forming to Mulder's body, even in the cramped space of the backseat. He played lightly with the stray hairs that were flung about her neck, mussed from her sleep. He then used his right hand and took her two slender hands in his. She was so tiny; it was easy to hold them both. At least he might be able to calm her, reassuring he was still there, no matter what.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, though he always seemed to be holding his breath during Scully's nightmares. He couldn't stand it when she was being plagued by yet another monster in the dark, one he couldn't protect her from. It was his fault after all. None of these nightmares would ever have plagued her if he hadn't begged her all those times to stay and help him. If he hadn't allowed her to stay on the X-Files, after everything that had happened, her cancer, loosing their son, having to go on the run. It all came down to being his fault.
"Whose William?" came a voice. Only when it was broken did Mulder realize that he had been in a daze, a reverie. He had been thinking in particular about the time he had almost killed Scully. Scully, his partner, his one in five billion, he had almost shot her. He hadn't wanted to, but Model had that weird pull on his mind and it was like he was a puppet, and Model was pulling the strings.
"Well?" came the voice again. It took Mulder a few minutes to take his eyes off Scully's face and look to see that it was Father Joe talking. He was looking at Mulder, expectantly. At first Mulder was confused, and then remembered the Question. He figured that Father Joe hadn't had to be psychic to figure out the name. Scully often mouthed it, or gasped it when she was having a nightmare. It was a usual topic of grief for her. Having to give him up, not being able to be a good mother and protect him, though she didn't understand that she was being a good mother and protecting him by giving him up.
"He was our son." He said, looking back to Scully's face, his hands drawing circles on her hands, and he relaxed a little, the nightmare probably receding. Luckily he knew how to calm the terrors. He looked back to Father Joe, who was looking out the window again, seemingly satisfied with the answer, or not wishing to push any further.
Deciding Scully would be ok for a bit, he laid his head back on hers lightly kissing her Forehead, like she had done so many times to his, and whispered a quiet "I love you." in her ear before closing his eyes and finally catching up on some sleep. And as his breathing slowed, he missed the calm smile wash over her face and the silent "I love you." That came from her lips as quiet as a thought on a breeze.