Title: Masayume
Author: Dantzi Jean and Kailee
White
E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com
and Emily_Jane99@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Category: M/S friendship, VSR
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: Random eps. Throughout
the series, up until "All Things
Summary: "Masayume"-
Japanese for "a dream that comes true. "Author's Notes:
At the end!
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
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
