REVELATIONS 1: DAWN (8/30) by Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com) Begun 7/95, completed 8/98 For Disclaimer see chapter 1 Chapter 8 Friday, 4 p.m. "Come on, Mulder, let's go to the basement and get your spare clothes, the ones you keep for emergency trips. Then we'll go to my place for a shower and some food. How about that?" Dana didn't know why she was babbling so. Mulder certainly wasn't talking and whether or not he was listening was dubious. Since they had left the meeting he seemed to be drifting deeper and deeper into a kind of fog. Instinctively, Dana headed for their wing of the building and the basement, only when they got to the top of the stairwell she realized that stairs were probably not a good idea in Mulder's condition. Sitting him down on the top step, she left him leaning against the wall for the thirty seconds it took her to run down to their cave for the smaller of Mulder's two overnight bags, a small navy blue duffle. Unceremoniously, she dropped his briefcase on his desk. She had her own copies of the case reports if absolutely necessary and maybe, if he didn't have his notes, it would dissuade him from working. she mused, as if the lack of notes of any kind could keep Mulder from working. Dana drove, which was a first since they had been working together, except when she had driven a frighteningly blank-eyed Mulder away from Ellens Air Force Base. She actually had been wondering how to bring up the subject of driving. Somehow it felt very un-liberated of her to allow him to do the driving all the time even though he obviously preferred it. It wasn't as if she didn't always put the time to good use - catching up on much needed sleep or going over case file. She wondered, however, if this would become the pattern, that she would drive at those times he would be too hurt, exhausted or distracted to be allowed behind the wheel. Like after Ellens. "I hope you don't mind our going to my place. Your apartment is too depressing. And until you learn to clean or get a cleaning lady I'm not really inclined to spend too much time there." No reaction except that his head fell back against the headrest. He must have heard, however, because he made no protest when she did not take the turn towards the Roosevelt Bridge which would have taken him towards his Alexandria, Virginia home but instead headed into Northwest Washington. Dana had seen his place exactly once when they stopped to get something he had forgotten. It really wasn't that bad for a bachelor's flat, but she enjoyed kidding him about it. Her biggest complaint was that it was dark and cheerless. Like its occupant. A fitting den for the Fox but not a great place to recuperate from the stress of what the last few days must have been like. Besides, the day was dark enough. The October clouds hung heavy and gray making the time seem more like late evening than afternoon. Although there was much about the whole situation which frightened her, Dana was determined to act as nearly normal as possible. Mulder sat beside her mute and staring out the front window. She did not have any real plan but knew her fear was not OF him - that was something the other members of the team seemed to project - but fear FOR him. Maybe it was the late night chat they had had in her motel room during their first case. She had gone to his door in just her robe and underwear and practically disrobed before him. For his part, after what Dana realized now was understandably stunned hesitation, Mulder had been the perfect gentleman, belaying her fears without being condescending. While she curled on the bed, he sat on the floor at her side they had started talking. That was all, but Dana discovered that night the private person that Mulder seldom showed the world; a gentle soul, driven by an obsession which would not let him go. She needed to reach that solitary man again tonight. Food, Dana considered as she drove. Taking a mental inventory of the unexciting contents of her refrigerator, she frowned. Mulder was just not a yogurt and salad kind of guy, and yet she'd be damned if she was going to feed him greasy hamburgers or pizza. She pulled up outside a Chinese take out. "Mulder?" No response. She touched his leg and he jumped so abruptly that he hit his knee on the dash. As he realized who was sitting beside him, the startled confusion dimmed in his eyes until his pale face no longer showed any expression at all except exhaustion. "I'll get us some Chinese," she told him hoping her precise, slightly louder than normal words were getting through. She blushed as she realized that her voice had assumed the same condescending tone too many of the members of the team had used. Mulder didn't seem to notice, however. "You can stay in the car, I'll be back as soon as I can." No protest, only a mute nod. Dana had to fight to keep from running up the steps to the little place. She ordered whatever they could put together in five minutes. When she returned, Mulder's head was resting against the passenger's side door. He was sound asleep. He was still sleeping when they reached her apartment building, so Dana took in the food, her brief case and his overnight bag and then came back for him. He woke groggily and staggered getting out of the car but the cool fall air seemed to revive him. Watching him look with something like interest at her building and then around at the interior of her apartment convinced Dana she had done the right thing. Taking him back to his own place would not have helped bring him out of the dream he was in, but putting him into safe and only vaguely familiar surroundings seemed to capture his attention. He had, after all, been here only once before and that had been when Tooms had tried to harvest her liver for a late night snack. At the time he had been a little too busy to sightsee. "Do you want to eat before or after you take a shower?" she asked, sounding as though taking a shower in her apartment was something he did every day. His voice was not strong and lacked its normal preciseness. "Right now I'm not sure I could stand up long enough to take a shower." Right now he didn't look like he should try. Probably, he shouldn't even be trying to stand unsupported in the middle of her living room. He swayed like a willow in the wind. "If those are my only options, I guess I'll take food." He let her push him down in a chair at her table and put a bowl of hot and sour soup in front of him. The strong, pungent aroma brought some animation back to his eyes even before he took his first spoonful. Watching the spoon shake as he fought to get it near his mouth, it took all of Dana's control not to go to his aid. Over the next few minutes as she got out the entrees and set a place for herself, she was relieved to see the tremor in his hand grow less. The tart and tangy taste was doing more than waking up his taste buds. As the heat flowed into his stomach, Dana could almost see his rigid muscles begin to melt. Only when the bowel was empty did his head raise. He looked around at her apartment with curiosity. "Nice place. I didn't have a chance to tell you before. Very... neat. Very clean." "Unlike yours?" she asked with a small smile. He started unhappily, as if he was afraid he had insulted her. "What I mean is - I'm not surprised, knowing you. You're a clean and neat sort of person. It's just that for the last few days there hasn't been much in my life that's been anything like this. I probably could say that about most of the last eight years." He looked down with some surprise. He seemed to have forgotten that he had finished his soup and that disturbed him. "Do you want more?" Dana asked. "N-No, thanks," he stammered. Instead, he piled chicken with hot garlic sauce on his plate. Dana had bought several entrees to give him a choice and wondered if he really liked this one or just took what was closest at hand. He took a long, long drink of the ice water she put in front of him while they waited for the tea water to boil. His eyes remained fixed on his plate though he probably didn't see it, part of him definitely still out of it. Lamely he began, "I guess you noticed... doing profiles upsets my delicate balance just a bit." "Just a bit," Dana agreed. "That's why you didn't want me in on this? That's really it? You didn't want me to see how wrapped up you can get?" A smile actually touched his pale lips. "'Wrapped up'? Well, that's not exactly how it's been described in the reports by the VC guys. I know they play poker to see who loses and has to shepherd me around once I begin to - well, 'lose touch with reality' is the popular jargon. Your everyday shrink would say 'dissociate'." Dana found herself chewing so slowly, she realized she wasn't hungry. Seeing him like this had taken her appetite away but at least it didn't frighten her any longer. He was exhausted nearly to death but sane. Working with Mulder had always been a challenge. This was just a new twist. A twist and a half actually. "Did you think I would run?" He raised his eyes. They were rimmed in red, but she was relieved to see the pupils were no longer dilated and they focused on her. "I hoped you wouldn't but I thought you might. I've gotten used to working with you. I didn't want to have to break in a new partner." Dana had to work to keep from smiling. Unconsciously, this partner of hers, who generally found attending to the social pleasantries a waste of time, had just given her a compliment, and she felt extraordinarily pleased. She had come within the last few weeks to realize that she honestly liked working on the X-Files cases with him. What she had been afraid of was that he wanted to be rid of her. "You've handed me rotting, mutant corpses; shown me ambulatory, catatonic patients; exposed me to federal coverup activities; introduced me to time loss phenomena; and embarrassed me to death in front of my colleagues. No, it's going to take more than you walking around in a nightmare to scare me away." Her words seemed to have a deeper meaning to him than she had intended. He had gone a little more pale and just when she thought the food had begun to bring some color into his wan cheeks. "Something wrong? Was this a bad idea and are you going to be sick?" He pushed aside his plate, the serving he had taken barely touched. "No, at least I don't think so. I will, however, stop while I'm ahead." He looked down at his suit and seemed suddenly to be aware of how he must look and smell. "Ugh! How can you bear to be in the same room with me. Can you point me towards the shower?" From somewhere he pulled some laughter into his eyes. "Wait, I believe I remember from the last time I was here." Walking more steadily than before, he made it to the bathroom. A few seconds later Dana knocked. She couldn't suppress a slightly dismayed gasp when he opened the door for her to hand him clean towels. He looked down at himself and then back at her. He was stripped to the waist. "Something wrong?" There was very little wrong with Mulder half naked, but Dana didn't dare tell him that. "Is that the same bandage I taped on you in your office over a week ago?" It looked ragged and worn and a little yellowish. His expressive face shifted imperceivably to a sulk. "I've been a little busy." Dana reached forward. "Let me - " He recoiled. Not far, but it put her on notice. "I can do it," he insisted. Probably more curtly than he intended, he shut the door. Dana didn't move away immediately but continued to stand stupidly before the closed door. She'd been taken aback by his sudden show of temper. She sighed. Just like all the other times, she could forgive him this, too. He had been through a lot and things had gotten uncomfortably domestic between them very quickly. From behind the door came a soft ripping sound as the tape parted protestingly from his skin. At the same time she heard a startled gasp and a muttered oath. When she heard the water start, Dana headed for the kitchen, smiling. Served him right. She would have been more gentle. Mulder emerged barefoot and in sweats minutes later, hair wet and tousled like that of a young boy. He'd even shaved which reinforced the image. He obviously kept his overnight well supplied. The difference between this sleek, though tired, greyhound and the mongrel she had taken into her apartment, brought home with a vengeance just how attractive Fox Mulder could be. There were times when he was damned distracting. This was one of those times. There was also times - most of the time - when his challenges to her world view were distracting enough. He had just sat on the couch and laced his sports shoes when Dana appeared at his side, economy sized first aid kit in her hands. "Let me see what's left of the beast woman's tender caresses." He glanced up with pique but stood obediently, though it took three attempts to get his weary bones out of her soft couch. Dana whistled low when she saw the four angry tape-sized chunks of angry flesh. They were far worse than the original claw marks which were well on their way to healing cleanly, despite the neglect. "You ripped off some chunks of skin here along with the tape." "I'm aware of that," he remarked sourly. She reached into her box of bandages, ointments, injectables and pills. "Let me put something on that to take away the sting. Then I'll leave you in peace." Warm and moist from the shower, his skin was soft under her fingers as she smoothed on the first aid cream with its topical anesthetic. she warned herself. Task complete, she watched with some regret as he pulled down his sweat shirt. He was slumped on the couch when she came back from putting away her supplies. "Do you want to watch a video or go home and get some sleep? I can drive you." Dana had intentionally left his options at the bare minimum. She wanted him to turn his brain off. Further discussion on the case was clearly forbidden. Besides conversation would probably be fairly one-sided tonight anyway. Mulder squinted at the clock on the VCR. For the first time he seemed aware of the time which was not yet eight. "Movie's fine. Anything you want." After turning on the Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation she had barely begun the night before - only the night before? - Dana sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Glancing over at her guest after five minutes showed that his eyes were on the screen but nobody - but nobody - was home. Ten minutes later his head had slumped to the side at an awkward angle. Dana gave him until the next scene change to be certain he was sound asleep before retrieving a pillow and blanket from her bed and swinging his long legs over onto the couch. He didn't quite fit but close enough. Nothing moved except the gentle rise and fall of his chest and a slight flaring of his nostrils. He was definitely out. Taking off his shoes, marveling for the first time at how big his feet were - but then all men's feet were big compared to hers - Dana covered him with the blanket and then settled down on the floor to finish watching the movie. By morning Dana would not be able to remember the plot. Her mind drifted. The blanket... the pillow... the shoes. Why did she have a feeling that she was going to be performing this little routine again in the future - and often. The stereotypic female nurturing bit should bother her but, oddly, it didn't. The sound of his breathing was comforting if only because she knew that, if he was with her, he was safe. Dana sat upright in bed, her heart beating wildly. The old sympathetic nervous system had kicked in. Now what had triggered that? As her eyes strayed to the clock - two a.m. - she listened into the dark for a repeat of whatever odd sound had awakened her. She didn't have to wait long. A deep keening, punctuated with small muffled cries seemed to fill her apartment. The sounds weren't loud, but chilling enough. This must be how a mother hears her child cry out in the night, Dana thought, though as she leaped from the bed, she couldn't imagine any child producing such fearful moans. Sleep numb though she was, it took Dana longer than she expected to remember her house guest. She had left Mulder asleep on the couch when she went to bed at eleven. She had not had the heart to wake him, especially since he hadn't so much as twitched since nine. Besides, she was too tired to drive him home. It had, after all, been a long twenty-four hours since a certain Associate Director had broken her own sleep. From her bedroom doorway what Dana could see by the dim light was a long, lean form tossing in a very uncoordinated fashion on the couch. He had kicked off the blanket. Even as she walked hesitantly towards him, wondering what WAS the best course to take when confronted with a person in the grip of what was obviously a humdinger of a nightmare, Mulder woke on his own. Jerking upright, he swung his legs around until he was sitting with his feet on the floor, his breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. Dana crept nearer. She had left the light on above the kitchen sink so he could tell where he was if he woke in the night. By that light she could see the sweat glistening on his face even as he shivered. He sat huddled over, clutching his stomach. By the distracted look in his eyes, he was maybe not as awake as Dana had first thought. She wanted to do something, anything, to help but, not knowing what, she resorted to retrieving the fallen blanket and draping it over his shoulders. At that moment a car drove down the normally quiet street in front of Dana's apartment house. The woofers from its souped up stereo system were booming. The noise was enough to bring Mulder fully aware. He dropped his face into his long hands. As he peered upward, his eyes opened. What he saw was a small, slightly out of focus figure in blue quietly sitting in a chair across from him. His hands balled into fists and locked. He even found himself holding his breath. For just a moment it was as if he were young again and Sam had come into his room. She had had the irritating habit of creeping into his room to sit and watch him sleep as if he were some bug she were studying. A familiar voice, a female voice which wasn't his mother's and not Sam's, asked gently, "Do you know where you are?" Clearly he didn't, a least not... immediately... but as he blinked the vision cleared. Such a mass of tousled hair in that particular shade of red had never belonged to Sam. He nodded slowly and the figure relaxed a little. "By the time this night is over," he began his voice unsteady, "I'm not going to have any secrets left." Dana sat, maintaining a stillness as a sort of comfort. It was the only thing she could think to do. Secrets....? It was obvious from that remark that this nightmare cycle was not new. She had suspected he did not sleep much. They always requested side by side rooms whenever they were out of town and she had become used to hearing the sound of his television until the very early hours. Sometimes all night. Then he could be heard moving around very early in the morning. Dana assumed that his compulsive nature and probing intellect didn't require much sleep. Now she knew it was something more. Did he leave the TV on for company, like a nightlight against the terrors in his dreams? After today, she had no doubt there were many. Belatedly, Dana remembered a comment he had made once. When was that? Yes, the morning following the day she had retrieved him from Ellens AFB. He had asked if she had heard any disturbances in the night. They had changed their motel, but still Dana worried. She had no desire to be visited by the NSA's goon squad again. "Did you hear anything last night?" he had asked. "Like what? Prowlers? Or do you think the No-Such-Agency boys have tracked us down again?" "Not like that... Just sounds. Nothing woke you?" "Nothing. It's hard to wake me when I'm tired." Dana recalled, changing her position then to see him in a better light. "Mulder, you're looking a little green around the gills. Are you certain that you don't want me to take you to a hospital?" The look he gave her would have stopped an alien space craft in mid-maneuver. "And tell them what? That our government kidnapped me and extracted some of my memories like taking a pit from a plum? Not likely." But he had looked terrible and she realized now he must have come to her room that early morning straight from a nightmare, a bad one. Though they had returned to D.C. after that, he had looked drawn and haunted for days afterward. Present time, weeks later, Dana sat in the big chair across from her couch, hands between her knees. She sat a little hunched as though cold and studied this new version of Fox Mulder, though she tried to keep the analyst's intentness out of her gaze. Uncomfortably aware of her scrutiny, Mulder wiped his forehead on the cuff of his sleeve, then stood, pausing for a moment to catch his balance. He was recovering quickly now. He seemed surprised to find he wasn't wearing his shoes. Despite the bad dream, this man looked much more like the Mulder Dana knew than the one who had sat across from her at dinner and nothing like the figure in the shadows she had seen at the briefing. It was as if someone had pressed a reset switch. "Do you want to talk about it?" Dana asked carefully. Suddenly aware she was dressed only in her pajamas, she pulled an afghan from the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl. Her guest eyed her attire and her attempt at modesty with the slightest smile. "I grew up in a house with two brothers, all right?" she snapped, realizing how unsophisticated the pajamas must look. "They're comfortable." "They're you," he said softly. "Practical, sensible." Despite the fact that the circumstances which brought him here had nothing to do with romance, this was still the first man Dana had had in her apartment in a LONG time and she wished she were dressed in something a little more feminine. "I'm not sure I should take that as a compliment," she said with some irritation. What woman liked hearing that she looked practical and sensible in her nightclothes? "From a man who has 'Spooky' as a nickname that's a compliment. Being unique is not all it's cracked up to be." As if realizing what he had just said, a soft, nearly soundless chuckle escaped from him as he pushed back the hair from his eyes and stretched. "Oh, would the cigars-and-beer gang in VC have a comeback for that one." He eyed his new partner suspiciously as if waiting for her to come up with one as well. When she kept silent a sort of peace seemed to settle on him, remolding his pinched features in a way that reminded Dana like a physical blow of how good looking Mulder could be when one wasn't overwhelmed by how exasperating he could be the rest of the time. "Thank you," he said as he began roaming restlessly about around her living room, his now very awake eyes curiously absorbing all the little personal touches. "I didn't do so much. Put some food in front of your nose and let you sleep on a couch which is too short for you." "You did more than anyone else would have and you know it." After popping a few elbow and shoulder joints, he lounged back in the center of the couch, long arms spread out wide on either side along the back. "Just between the two of us, what do you think?" Dana pursed her lips and blew softly. That was a loaded question. She took the safe route. "Of the case?" Oh, that smile, like the one from the first day they'd met. The everyone-thinks-I'm-half-crazy-so-I'm-going-to-play-with- your-head smile. "I don't think I'm ready just yet to hear your opinion of my performance this afternoon, so, yes, let's stick to the case. I want your honest opinion." End of Chapter 8