TITLE: Butterfly Dreams (3/?)

RATED PG-13 (Chapter 2) | | X-files M&S Angst

Author: Darshann 

Repost?: After complete definitely, just keep it intact with all 
installments and with my name on it,please! 

Spoilers: Everything up to mid-Season 7 is fair game

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and the X-files are not mine, thank you 
so much CC for creating them. The rest of this story and it's 
characters belong to me However, if the people of the X-files 
should ever stumble upon this story and like it, take it and use 
it. Just let me bring GA some coffee between takes :)

Summary: M and S explore the world of dreams both individually and 
in reference to a case involving a series of strange deaths and 
discover some things about themselves they may not be ready to 
know.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

[Chapter 2]

"...When we dream we do not know that we are dreaming. In 
our dreams we may even interpret our dreams. Only after we 
are awake do we know that we have dreamed. But there 
comes a great awakening, and then we know that life is a 
great dream...

Once I, Chuang Tzu, dreamed I was a butterfly and was 
happy as a butterfly. I was conscious that I was quite pleased 
with myself, but I did not know that I was Tzu. Suddenly I 
awoke, and there was I, visibly Tzu. I do not know whether it 
was Tzu dreaming that he was a butterfly or the butterfly 
dreaming that he was Tzu. Between Tzu and the butterfly 
there must be some distinction. [But one may be the other.] 
This is called the transformation of things."

Chuang Tzu (350 BC)
Taoist Philosopher

__________________________________________________

The ride down in the elevator only serves to emphasize my 
building uneasiness. The metal walls closing in all around 
bounce back my thoughts, amplifying the things I have been 
fighting all morning to shut out. 

'Afraid to love him.'

'Am I?' A small voice in the back of my head whispers to the 
affirmative. Which I unsuccessfully try to squelch.

'...Though I do love him. Deep down under the charade of a 
strong independent woman who needs no one to make it 
through life.'

It echoes back at me. An answer from my own mind, my 
own heart. My own words betray me. I stab uselessly at the 
button to the basement; wanting to leave this tube, shake free 
of these thoughts that surround me here.

The elevator bumps, and the hum begins as the doors slide 
open. Finally! I step out into the poorly lit hall that leads to 
our office. My heels clicking on the hard floor. 

Suddenly I feel self-conscious of my appearance. Such a 
strange feeling; I stop abruptly. I smooth my skirt. Why did I 
wear a skirt today? Don't answer that! A hand tentatively 
touches my hair before I realize what I'm doing. My hair. 
God. The surge of blame for the state of my hair pushes 
away the lingering thoughts of "do I look okay?" and I jump 
at the opportunity to replace the uncomfortable feelings with 
more familiar ones. Quickly straightening up and pushing 
away the silly concern with my appearance, I continue on 
down the hall. 

..............................................................


The images of dead bodies and newspaper articles flash 
across the computer screen as I scan the information for 
hidden clues. 'No cause of death', 'Cause of death unknown,' 
'died in sleep'. Ten of them in the last month. The first few 
didn't seem strange, as they were older. In fact the locals still 
don't link them. But the rest: young, healthy. All in their 
sleep, without any discernible cause beyond simply not waking up 
again.

I hear the click of her heels echoing down the hall. My face 
flushes and I feel my heart beat faster in my chest. My palms 
clammy. Get a grip, Mulder. She's the same as yesterday. 
Nothing's changed. Get. A. Grip.

I lock my eyes on the screen as she enters the room. Thank 
God I finally got her a desk. Out of the corner of my eye I 
notice she is wearing a skirt. That tiny piece of information 
sends a shiver down my spine as my mind skitters back into 
my fantasy. I dip my head as if to scrutinize the papers on my 
desk, trying to hide my reaction. Just focus on the case at 
hand.

"We have a case." I state the obvious. My voice gruff with unease.

"Great, what is it." She sounds annoyed. What's new? 

I look up before thinking, wondering what put her in a bad 
mood this time. Our eyes lock for an instant and then we 
both look away quickly. So beautiful. God, she's so beautiful. I 
am always amazed at the beauty of those deep blue eyes. The way 
they are perfectly set off by her fiery red hair, ivory skin.

"Um, ten bodies spreading out over the past month, no 
apparent cause of death. They were all found in bed having 
apparently died in their sleep, which is why the first two went 
unnoticed, it was assumed they died of old age, but the rest are 
all young and in tiptop shape. So autopsies were ordered which of 
course found nothing. It's like they went to sleep, everything 
fine, only they never wake up again." 

Scully moves closer to my desk. The curves of her small body 
gently caressed by the tailored cut of her dark blue suit. "Well, 
they obviously missed something. People don't just drop dead for 
no reason, Mulder. How 'bout sleep apnea?" 

I look at her questioningly. With out taking a breath, she 
explains, "A sleep disorder, where the throat relaxes and the 
airway becomes obstructed resulting in the cessation of 
spontaneous breathing. Usually, the person resumes breathing in a 
matter of minutes, however, in extreme cases, they in essence end 
up suffocating to death. Did any of them have a history of 
snoring?"

"I don't know, they were all living alone. In most cases, it was 
discovered they were dead only after they had been missed for over 
a week."

I can almost see the gears turning as she offers another 
possibility. "Could have been suicide by deliberate dehydration." 

"Within the space of a month, ten people all decide to commit 
suicide in a manner that I would bet ranks statistically as the 
lowest probable method for offing oneself, without so much as a 
note, any signs of preparation, or discernable reason?"

"Worth looking into, maybe it's some kind of suicide pact." She 
picks up the case file and begins to flip through it nonchalantly.

For a moment, I think her hands are shaking as she holds the 
folder. But then she slaps the file down on the desk, placing 
her hands firmly on the edges as she continues to read. Her voice 
is hard and controlled. "There are only eight listed here, you 
said ten."

"Yes, the first two, as I said, were not connected due to their 
age. But I...."

"See a connection." Our eyes meet again. Her gaze so intense and 
electric, I find myself captured within the twin pools of blue. 

"Yes." Silence seems to fill the room. Her aroma suddenly 
floats under my nose as if tantalizing me. It dangles like a 
carrot at the end of a stick... cinnamon and strawberries, 
clean air after it rains...

"Mulder?" She is staring at me, waiting for my explanation, 
her eyes wide with curiosity. I wonder if she has noticed my 
odd behavior.

"Uh, well it's a small detail really. I had noticed in each of 
the, uh victims, that they all had been exploring the 
phenomenon of dreams in some form or another." 

I hear a sharp intake of breath. Geez I haven't even gotten to 
the weird stuff yet.

"See, I was playing around on the internet a few days ago and 
found some articles on dreams. You know how some 
philosophers think that when you dream, you enter another 
dimension? "  She is scowling at me now. "Well, anyway, 
lots of brilliant people have speculated on this, and there is a 
large online community of people who like to explore their 
dreams and share with others, as if they were mapping out 
another world and on one of the bulletin boards, someone 
had posted the obituaries of the first two, saying they had 
been successful at 'leaping'."

"Leaping?" She raises one of her luxurious eyebrows. 

Mmmmmm, look away, look away. "Yeah. Um, I didn't 
think anything of it at the time, but one of the eight 'victims' 
had a book called 'Leaping into the Dream'. I'm thinking 
maybe somehow these ten people figured out how to enter 
their dreams, leaping, and then chose to not return for 
whatever reason, maybe they were happier in the dream 
or...." 

"A bit of a leap, Mulder, even for you. Has anyone autopsied 
these two?"

I shake my head slightly and smile in a way that I hope 
shows great need and humility. Her eyes grow big, reminding 
me of the look you imagine on a deer caught in the 
headlights of an oncoming vehicle. She quickly looks away. 
What was that? "I've gotten permission from the families to 
exhume the bodies. They seemed pretty eager to help. In fact 
a little too eager." 

She looks at me again, questioningly. "I don't think they had 
anything to do with the deaths. They just seem strangely detached 
from the deaths. I don't think they were all that close as 
families go."

"I am definitely afraid to ask, but what is your theory?" She 
crosses her arms over her breasts... Stop it! Concentrate, you 
pig, concentrate.

"Well, have you ever heard of Chuang Tzu?" 

"Yes, I studied philosophy in college. We covered Tzu quite 
extensively." She pauses without breaking her gaze. "The 
Butterfly story?" I nod back. "You mean the idea that reality 
and our dreams are interchangeable?  Let's see he proposed 
that both a dream and reality might exist at the same time. I 
may really be a butterfly dreaming I am a woman, or a 
woman dreaming I am a butterfly, or both at the same 
time..."

I can feel my grin spreading across my face, not being able to 
help it even though I know I look like an idiot. "You never 
cease to amaze me, Scully." There's that look again. "Are you 
okay?"

She ignores the question. "You mean to say, you think these 
people are somehow choosing to be the butterfly? That they 
are consciously merging reality with their dreams?" She 
shoots me a skeptical look. "I don't think even Tzu would 
buy that theory, Mulder. But, even if that were even remotely 
possible, where is the crime?"

"Well, first off, this case has been assigned. The various 
police departments involved are convinced it's a serial killer 
with some special method of killing. They called us in 
because of the unexplained cause, and because it is crossing 
more and more state lines. The first two were in South 
Carolina, the next three in North Carolina, then two in 
Virginia, two in West Virginia, the last here in DC."
 
"So there is some geographical connection. It is centered in 
the greater DC regional area, but it is moving north. 
Suggesting some kind of connection. Some way the killer is 
coming into contact with these people." She starts chewing 
unconsciously at her lip as she stares off into space, thinking.

I focus on my pencil and start tapping a tune on the desk. Jumpin' 
Jack Flash is a gas, gas, gas.... then I stop remembering where I 
had heard that last. "Or some way in which the key to 'leaping' is 
being passed on. I think our job will be to find the source of the 
key, not a killer."

"The book?" She snaps out of her thoughts and looks directly 
at me with all the force of a hurricane. Her face eager with the 
certainty of her revelation.

She seems so proud of her ability to follow down this 
paranormal road of mine that I almost hate to burst her 
proverbial bubble. "No, it was released nationwide, and I 
have read through it already. It mostly alludes to the 
philosophy behind the idea of leaping, but it doesn't tell you 
how to do it, or even put it forth that there is a way."

"Well, I suppose our first order of business is to search the 
crime scenes for a connection to a killer.  Or, I guess, this 
key."

"Actually, I was hoping you could get to work on going over the 
autopsy reports and perhaps reexamining the eight bodies to 
confirm the original findings or as seems to be the case, lack of 
findings. I had them sent to the FBI lab an hour ago. They should 
be there pretty soon. I'll go look at the crime scenes."

She lets out a sigh. Was that relief? I thought she'd be upset. 
"Well, just keep your mind open to the possibility of a 
perpetrator existing, Mulder."

"Me, open mind? Come on, Scully, don't worry your pretty 
little..." Oh, God.  Bad choice of words. "Don't worry about 
it, I'll be as thorough as if you were there." 

She doesn't seem to have heard my slip as she walks toward the 
door, nodding. "I'll call you when I'm done, and I'll join you if 
you're still in the field." 

I watch her backside without shame, now that she isn't looking. 
Appreciatively viewing her curves like a naughty little schoolboy. 
If this continues, I'll need to pick up some new porno. Get my 
mind off of her and fill it with other images. I can't work with 
her when I'm like this.

"I'll start with the last few crime sce... locations, since the 
trail will be most recent from there." She disappears from view 
and I hear her heels echo down the hall to the elevator. 

I begin gathering the information spread out on the desk so I 
can bring it along in the car for easy reference. I pick up the 
phone to call the local police to inform them of my 
intentions. 

Slowly, I feel my mind relax as it empties itself of Scully, and 
focuses in on the X-file at hand.

[End of Chapter 2] 

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