"Nightmare In 42"
by Becca O.

Rating - PG-13 for one choice word.
Category - MSR
Spoilers - Season 6, "Dreamland 1 & 2"
Keywords - Mulder/Scully Romance
Summary - Episode epilogue. Let's tie up a few
loose ends, shall we? *g*

As always, all characters belong lock, stock
and barrel to CC, 1013 and FOX.
I promise to return them when I'm finished playing, ok?

All comments welcome, send to becca@trekybecky.com
Archive anywhere, just drop me a note so I can visit!


"Nightmare in 42" by Becca O.

Three ... two ... one ...

The shrill ring of the phone was right on cue.


"Scully, exactly what the hell went on over here?"

"Who's this?"

"Don't be coy. What happened to my apartment?"

Scully smiled and braced herself for the explanation to follow.


The effects of the time warp were supposed to be irreversible. *Supposed* to be. For all intents and purposes, they should never know what had transpired over the three preceding days.

Until Scully entered her office, opened the desk drawer and found the coin: a penny and a dime, merged into one magical sphere by some unseen force. It was the key that unlocked her recollections of the horror that had been her life; her life in "Dreamland".

"Dreamland" -- the code-name given to the section of Area 51 where hers and Mulder's lives had nearly been transformed forever. Personally, she thought it had been more of a nightmare. To see Mulder before her, hear his thoughts, so radically diverse that she knew without a doubt, albeit too late, that *her* Mulder was the one locked away for being a traitor.

Recognition had finally dawned and reality set in. God, the clues were there, she just hadn't wanted to believe. But then that had been her problem all along, hadn't it? Refusal to believe had nearly cost her Mulder yet again.

Playing along, she had accepted the dinner invitation to "his" apartment. If she hadn't been convinced before, she was now. A bed? Mulder had not owned a bed in the entire time they'd been together.

Which is exactly where Mulder-Fletcher-whoever had wanted her. In bed.


Shuddering at the memory, she knocked on Mulder's door. The drive to his place had been blessedly short; she knew he was beyond impatient by this point in time.


"A waterbed, Scully. The sonofabitch stored my files and bought a *waterbed*. What the hell was he thinking?"

Scully crossed her arms over her chest and raised one eyebrow in disbelief. Even Mulder couldn't be that dense. Could he?

"Oh. OH."

"Mulder, you're blushing. It's cute."

Ignoring her amusement he continued, "How did you ..."


"Handcuffs? Scully! I never imagined you to be that type."

"In your dreams, Mulder."

"No, I'm afraid I never went that far with you in any of my dreams, Scully." Flopping onto the bed, setting a wave in motion he added, "You're cute when you blush, too. Makes me wonder exactly how far that blush goes ..."

Dodging the pillow she sent hurling his way, he laughed and relaxed into the soft motion of the mattress. "Damn, he was good. There's even a mirror."

"He wasn't that good, Mulder, or I wouldn't have needed the handcuffs."

"Am I?"

"Are you 'what'?"

"That good."

A sudden seriousness invaded the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Scully drank in his features, remembering with clarity the last time she'd been in this very room.

"I couldn't have done it, Mulder." Stretching out on her side, facing her partner, she continued, "He wasn't you. I mean he was you, but he wasn't you. Am I making any sense at all here?"

Leaning forward, Mulder tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Tell me more."

"He looked just like you. He talked just like you. But, God, Mulder--he called me 'Dana'. I should have known the first time I heard that."

"You'll always be 'Scully' to me." But he sensed there was more. "What else?"

"I'm sorry I called you ugly. And I'm sorry I didn't kiss you when I had the chance."

"I'm sorry, too. You know, you could've just closed your eyes..."

"What, and clicked my heels together three times? Been there, done that. It never works Mulder."

"Not even now? Go on. Give it a try."

Giggling at her own efforts, Scully found that clicking her heels together while reclining on a full-motion waterbed was impossible. "It won't work."

"Betcha it does. Close your eyes, Scully." Rolling to the side, he covered her body with his own, her mouth with his, righting a wrong that should never have happened in the first place.

Hours later, the lights dimmed and the garish covers pulled over their shoulders, Mulder dropped a light kiss on Scully's head. "Remind me in the morning to send a thank-you note to Morris Fletcher."

"And flowers to his wife," Scully added. "C'mon Mulder. Let's see how many waves we can make this time."


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