At Night She Dreams of Monsters by emilyest Email: emily.est@hotmail.com Rating: PG-13 Category: msr, angst Summary: She tries to forget about Special Agent Scully, but she never can. Spoilers: Post-The Truth, pre-IWTB Disclaimer: Carter, C. C. et al. (1993-2002). The X-Files. Or more simply, not mine. Author's Notes: This is the first fic I have actually made it all the way through, which may not be saying much seeing as it's fairly short. Hope you enjoy. At night she dreams of monsters. Of little girls turning to sand, of sisters bleeding from gunshot wounds and of lovers coming back from the grave. But most often she dreams of little boys who are dying, little boys who will never know their real mothers, little boys abandoned. - In the morning she gets up early. Drying her hair, she watches him hide under the covers to block out the noise. He never gets out of bed before 10am. She dresses, her wardrobe still feeling unfamiliar after all this time. She makes sure nothing new she buys reminds her of the things she wore before. She blows a kiss to the lump under the sheets as she takes her keys off the nightstand and leaves for the hospital. - At work she tries to pretend she has a normal life. She makes polite conversation with her colleagues and forces herself to believe that she has always been Doctor Scully, even though it sounds so unfamiliar as it always has. She tries to make her work seem worthwhile, tries to forget she is saving lives that might very well end so soon. She tries to forget about Special Agent Scully, but she never can. - As she drives through the snow, she imagines what she might come home to this evening. Will he have spent the day watching movies and making a mess of the kitchen and lounge? Will she smell burning as she opens the front door the sad remains of his attempt to cook them dinner? Will he be locked away in his office again, throwing pencils and clinging to parts of their life lost? Or will this be the night she comes home and finds the house empty, finds that he is gone taken. She thinks about that night almost everyday, on her way home, but prays it never comes. - Before bed she only thinks of him. She steals glances at him from the bathroom mirror as he stretches out on their bed, glasses perched on his nose. He pretends to be reading his book, but his eyes meet her reflection and she sees his lips curve upward. She can never help but return the smile. His book always lays forgotten at bed time, as she slides between the sheets beside him. She grips his shoulders as he leaves trails of kisses up her stomach. She helps him to feel alive again, while he makes her remember why they will do it all over again tomorrow. Before bed will always be her favourite part of the day, because he never lets her forget what it's like to feel like no one can touch them. He makes her forget the monsters of her dreams.