Title- The Nightmares of Angels
Author- Meaghan McScully
Written: August 2001 Feedback- Framed
Archiving- Sure, go ahead, just keep my name attached and let me know.
Spoilers- Requiem, S8 free
Rating- PG
Category- V, A, R Keywords- Mulder/Scully Romance, Scully/Skinner Friendship, Angst
Disclaimer- I don't own 'em or get money from 'em.

Summary: Even angels have nightmares.


The incessant knocking on his door brought him through the living room and to the front door. Knowing who it was and half hoping she'd be able to sleep through an entire night, he opened the door to reveal her. His nighttime angel.

"...I'm sorry, I should.. I should go home," she whispered as he drew her into his warm neutral- colored apartment.

He led her to his couch, gently forcing her to sit. Padding into the kitchen to make tea, he thought about the woman seated in his living room. About the pain he knows she's silently suffering, about the child encased in her womb.

About her partner.

He quietly walked back to her, two steaming mugs of Chamomile tea encased in large, loving hands. Placing the mugs on the coffee table, he reached around her and loosely draped a blanket he had started keeping there for her late-night visits around her. He silently leaned forward and pressed the hot mug into her freezing hands.

"Did you have that dream again?" He sat back and turned slightly, able now to read her face more clearly. Her silent, yet tearful, nod brought a concerned look of understanding to his face. "More details this time, huh?" His voice gently prodded her, knowing that speaking about the atrocities she dreamed nightly would lessen the intensity of them. Another nod, this time accompanied by a choked back sob. Gently taking the mug from her grasp, he set both down on the table, and pulled her to his chest, softly murmuring reassurances into her ear.

After a long, soul-baring cry, he felt her begin to relax against his chest. Gently lifting her into his arms, he carried her to his bedroom and laid her on the bed. He drew the covers up around her, stroking her hair from her eyes as a father would. "You can sleep now. You're safe here." She turned, curling on her side and grasping his hand as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. He knew, however, that he was just a replacement- a temporary fix for a much larger wound. Her much loved partner was missing, and he would do everything in his power to get him back.

A soft sigh, words whispered so softly that would have been forever lost if the building had not been silent, came from the bed.

"Thank you, Walter."

Fin.

 


"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of the dream. Wandering by lone sea breakers, and sitting by desolate streams. World losers and world forsakers, for whom the pale moon gleams. Yet we are movers and the shakers of the world forever it seems." ~Arthur O'Shaunessey

"Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It's not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything." - Muhammad Ali

"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, by my soul." -Judy Garland

"Dreams are the touchstones of our character." -Henry David Thoreau

"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good." -Vaclav Havel

Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." -Gene Fowler

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