Dreaming of Whatifs

Dreaming: Dreaming of Whatifs

By: Jamie Ruby

Email: scullygirl818@comcast.net

Rating: PG

Category: VRH (not exactly romance, more of a UST piece - you'll see what I mean if you read it)

Classification: Humor, UST, Episodic Piece

Spoilers: Small Potatoes, XF: FTF, Dreamland II

Summary: In "Dreamland II," Morris, who Scully thought was Mulder, invited her over for dinner. What was running through Scully's mind? (a character piece)

Takes place during "Dreamland II."

I got this idea after watching "Dreamland II" again. I believe Scully really wanted it to be Mulder who tried to seduce her. What was she thinking? This is the result.

Disclaimer: As always, "The X-Files" and characters belong to Chris Carter, 20th Century Fox, and 1013 Productions. No infringement is intended.

All situations belong to me.

*This story, if it gets good feedback, will become a series of small vignettes. All will be of different characters' points of views during the episode - each will be able to be read separately or together.*

PLEASE send me some feedback, any feedback:) This is the first story I've posted on my website and I would like to know what everyone thinks:)

You can read a complete review of Dreamland or Dreamland II, as well as find more picstures from the episodes through those pages..


Dreaming: Dreaming of Whatifs

It all started when he invited me over for dinner. I can't believe it. And he's cooking no less - not some cheap greasy cafe or fast food. Mulder. Cooking. For me. I can't believe it. Is this like a date?

"Get a hold of yourself, Dana! He probably just feels bad because he narked on you to Kersh," says the other part of my mind.

Oh, how I wish it were more.

I start to get ready for the 'date,' not knowing what to wear. It's just Mulder after all...But, that's the problem. My mind argues back and forth for awhile before I realize I have to stop analyzing everything before I'm late.

I finally decide on a respectable suit as always. Safe. I don't give my mind a chance to wander as I grab my keys and head to the car.

The traffic isn't heavy so I get there quickly. Why am I so nervous? It's not like I never spend time with Mulder. We're partners, best friends.

Although, Mulder's been acting strange. Going by the book. Listening to protocol; ignoring the X-Files. When did this start? What happened to his quest - his crusade? All that was so important, and now he's turned into Kersh's pet.

I'm overanalyzing again I realize. Just because Mulder wants to spend time with me does not mean something is wrong. What do I expect? Another fiasco like Eddie? We aren't even on a case for anything to go wrong. Not an X-File anyway.

As I head down the hallway to his apartment I remember the scene that took place in this exact hallway not that long ago. Part of which is most likely the reason I'm so nervous. Mulder kissed me. OK, almost kissed me. His lips barely grazed mine before I was stung, but it was a kiss none the less. It had nothing to do with me going to leave the bureau. Not on my part, anyway. I would have kissed him no matter what had been going on, when presented with the chance. Then why don't I kiss him now, you ask. Why haven't I? I'm constantly asking myself those questions. Because of our jobs; because of our friendship. A million reasons, a million excuses. Why am I so afraid?

I reach the door and Mulder eagerly ushers me inside his apartment.

"Perfect timing. Welcome." he says.

I am surprised when he takes my coat for me. I hadn't expected that.

"Wow. Mulder." I say.

What the...His apartment, it's well, clean. Not that Mulder's home is usually dirty, it's not, it's just usually messy. UFO magazines everywhere, probably as well as some others that 'aren't his.' Here though, I see none of that.

"You like, huh? Yeah, I thought it was time I stopped living like a frat boy. Come on and see the rest of the place. Over there."

Mulder's bed

Showing me around, he takes me into his bedroom. I never even knew he had a bedroom, let alone the four poster bed that sits in the corner. I tell him this.

"I didn't even know you had a bedroom."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, got to have someplace to lounge around and read the Sunday "New York Times," you know."

He pats the bed for me to sit. He wants me to try it? Sometimes he amazes me.

"Uh, no, that's okay. Thanks." I tell him. I'm so nervous.

"Seriously, just check it out. Seriously." he tells me. What is he up to?

Check it out

After his encouragement, I sit down on the bed. He follows suit. As soon as he hits the bed, the movement causes the both of us to fall backwards. It's a waterbed!

"Oh!" I exclaim, once again surprised.

"Whoa! Uh-oh."

We laugh. I hardly ever get to hear Mulder laugh. He should do it more often. Then again, he could say the same thing about me.

I look up.

NY Times backwards

"Mulder!" I exclaimed surprised. Above the bed in the canopy is tiled mirrors. I see our reflections, wondering why he brought me in here.

"Maybe I like to read the "New York Times" backwards!" he says, turning to face me.

Not for the first time, I think "Mulder, you're nuts!" But then again, that's what I love about him. Did I just think that? Am I in love with Fox Mulder? I push the unpartnerly thoughts down.

"Do you hate it?" he asks me.

I come back to the present. Oh yeah, the bed and mirrors. No. Why would I? It's pure Mulder. Even the faux leopard skin blanket that's at the end of the bed.

"No, I don't hate it." I say.

Scully on bed"Well, all right then. Uh, don't go away." he says jumping up from the bed suddenly.

I sit up.

While he is gone, I ponder the events that have just occurred. Something is wrong. I know it. It's not just because what's happening between us is unexpected. There's always that sexual tension in the air, it's just not usually acted on this way. I can sense it now, something it just not right.

My mind flashes back to the gas station where Morris Fletcher was arrested.

"Scully! He's not me! Would I do this?!"

I think about that. Would he? Would he normally turn in one of his contacts, when he possibly could have information for his search?

No. Never. Nor would he give up his quest, listen to Kersh, or nark on me. It's starting to make sense. Maybe...

But it can't be. He is Mulder. He has to be.

My mind flashes back once again to a case some time ago. The Van Blundht case - Eddie as Mulder. On my couch, ready to kiss me. And then...the real Mulder comes through the door and the Mulder on the couch shifts into Eddie.

But this is different. Definitely different.

Last time I thought nothing was wrong because I wanted it so bad. I let my common sense and judgement slip away. Mulder was talking to me, not about work, but about us. And I liked it.

I will be cautious. I won't let it happen again.

When Mulder walks through the door with wine, he's singing a Marvin

Gaye song from the seventies, "Let's Get It On." He shuts the door so we're alone.

I need to know the truth, no matter what it may be. I know that I must take a chance. But not the chance I would have taken last time with Eddie as Mulder.

I could be wrong, but if I am, Mulder will understand and forgive me. I have a right to be the paranoid one for once too!


When he sits down on the bed and gives me a glass ready to be filled with wine, I say, "Do you know what would really be fun?"

I can't believe I'm doing this. What if it is really Mulder? I answer my own question - I'll have one hell of a good time.

"What?" he asks me intrigued.

I pull out my handcuffs and dangle them in front of Mulder.

He sucks in a breath and smiles. "Oh, yeah. Me first?"

"You first." I say.

"First time. Now what?" he says as he takes the handcuffs from me.

He handcuffs himself to the bed rail; I grab my gun.

peeing through a catheter

I point the gun at him.

"You're not Mulder." I say, trying to stay calm.

"What?...Baby?" he asks as comprehension runs through him.

I aim the gun lower. "Baby me and you'll be peeing through a catheter! Your name is Morris Fletcher! It was Mulder who was arrested in the desert. He was telling the truth about you. Now, how do we get things back to normal?"

You go girl.

He doesn't deny it. I thank him for that at least.

"How should I know? I wouldn't do it even if I could. You saw my wife. Do you think I want to go back to that? Two kids who'd probably kill me in my sleep for the insurance money. A $400,000 mortgage on a house that just appraised at $226,000.

And my job... Eee-gads. You think being a man in black is all voodoo mind control? You should see the paperwork."

He doesn't want his life back. Of course not, why would he? I should have known. After everything. My heart lifts - Kersh's secretary. Never Mulder. Maybe this isn't such a bad revelation after all.

"Are you through?" I ask, still trying to sound harsh.

"As far as I'm concerned this thing is a gift from heaven. Besides, no one is ever going to believe you so you might as well just get used to me being here."

"Or I just shoot you... Baby."

He looks panicked now.

"I'm telling you, I have no idea how to change things back."

I think he might actually be telling the truth now.

"What about Mulder's source? The man he was supposed to meet in the desert? What about him? Do you know how to get in touch with him?"

"I don't know anything about that. Sorry. You're out of luck."

Maybe shooting him wasn't such a bad idea.

The phone rings pulling me out of my reverie. He lets his answering machine get it.

"Hello, hello. I'm very busy entertaining a *special* guest. Leave a message and I'll get back to you." is what comes from the machine as Mulder's greeting. Creep.

He actually has the dignity to look embarrassed.

The man on the phone comes through the speaker.

"Agent Mulder, I'm trying you one last time. Are you or are you not interested in the classified information I have to give you? Please pick up the phone if you're there."

I look at him, indicating to pick up the phone. He does, and holds it up to his ear so I can hear as well.

Into the phone he says, "Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, listen very carefully." comes the voice.

After the unknown man finishes telling us where to meet him, we leave. Everything will turn out right. It has to. I haven't gotten that kiss yet.


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