TITLE: "Dream Watcher"  
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com  
RATING: G  
CLASSIFICATION: Mulder/Scully Friendship / UST  
CATEGORY: S A  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.  
SPOILERS: None as far as I know  
FEEDBACK: Please. Mulder, chocolate and feedback keep my  
life bearable ...  
SUMMARY: More or less a sequel to Dream Catcher. Scully has  
given Mulder a Dream Catcher and that night he has a very  
strange dream ...  
NOTE: Natalia requested this sequel, plus a third part which until  
this very day hasn't been written yet. Maybe it will be one day, 
maybe it won't, who's to tell? 
 
XxXxX  
"Dream Watcher"  
XxXxX  
  
   "A what?"  
   "A dream catcher", Scully said with a smile. "It's called a  
dream catcher."  
   "Right", Mulder answered. "And what does it do?"  
   "Well, according to a Native American belief this thing,  
this dream catcher, will catch dreams while they fly through the  
air. These people believe dreams are all around us, just waiting  
for an opportunity to get inside our heads and that's when we  
dream. A dream catcher's purpose is to catch those dreams and  
then at night let the good dreams go and keep the bad dreams  
caught up in the webbing until the morning sun can burn them."  
   Mulder turned the object around in his hands. Its weight  
was minimal, and it wasn't particularly beautiful he noticed. In  
fact, it was pretty coarsely made.  
   "You know", he said with a lop-sided smile, "that didn't  
sound like you just a second ago, Dana Scully. I'd never have  
believed you actually believing in a legend like that." He held the  
dream catcher up and let a few rays of sunlight that filtered  
through the blinds play with the webbing. For a short moment the  
dream catcher looked on fire. "I mean, I've heard of the story a  
very long time ago, I just never knew what these things really did  
or that one could buy them here in DC. And I certainly didn't  
think you'd ever buy one for me."  
   "I don't think I would have either, it's just that I had no  
choice but to buy it for you."  
   "No choice?" Mulder frowned.  
   "Well, apparently it was destined to be yours. It's supposed  
to be watching over you as you dream. Besides, you're the natural  
possessor of this dream catcher." She smiled at the confusion in  
his eyes. She loved it when he was puzzled by her words.  
"Remember that little Indian boy who always sits in that street  
near the J. Edgar Hoover building? Today I went to see him, you  
know, to talk to him. His story was quite remarkable and he made  
this dream catcher while we talked. Did you know his name's  
Fox?"  
   Mulder looked up sharply, then looked at the dream  
catcher again. "Well, 'Fox' is not a very unusual name for an  
Indian boy."  
   "No, I guess it isn't", Scully said. "What was unusual  
though was that he knew things about you and me he had no way  
of knowing."  
   "What do you mean?"  
   "Well, he knew my name before I mentioned it, he knew  
your first name, he knew my father was dead and he knew the  
petnames we used to give each other. He knew about Samantha  
and about the way your father treated you when you were younger.  
In fact, I didn't realise how much you two have in common until  
now ... You know, he lost a sister as well, I was perplexed when  
he told me his story, and he told it so casually! Oh, and he asked  
me to tell you something ... eh ..."  
   "What?" Mulder asked. "What did he ask you to tell me?"  
   "Eh ... I'm afraid I forgot ... This is stupid, he insisted on  
my telling you ... eh ..."  
   "Do you remember in what context it came?" Mulder tried.  
   "Well, it had something to do ... with ... I don't know ..."  
She shook her head. "Damn, that's strange", she sighed.  
   "Well, as long as you don't forget to call me when you  
remember", Mulder smiled. Actually he thought it was rather cute  
the way she had to search her mind to remember.  
   Scully nodded. "Sure. You know, he insisted that I'd tell  
you, he made me promise it before I left, so it's rather  
embarrassing forgetting it ..."  
   " 's Okay", Mulder said, looking at his watch. "It's getting  
late, Scully, I think it's best for you to go home. After all, we've  
got to start early tomorrow to get the reports ready for handing  
in." He yawned. "And I'm getting tired, too", he said and he  
stretched.  
   Scully raised her eye-brows and smiled. "What? You, my  
favourite insomniac, are getting sleepy?" She feigned shock.  
   Mulder grinned and helped her in her coat. "Drive  
carefully, Scully", he said for no reason at all apart from a sudden  
feeling of protectiveness.  
   "I'm not a bad driver, Mulder", she said smiling. "I may be  
a woman, but I can drive!"  
   "I know you can, I'm just concerned about your safety,  
that's all. And if I'm sleepy, you must be practically in deep  
sleep!" He looked at the dream catcher.  
   "You like it?" Scully asked. "You know, you never told me  
what you thought of it ..."  
   "I like it. I think I begin to like it more and more", he  
answered. "Where do you think I ought to put it?"  
   "The boy said it should be near an open window so that the  
morning sun can burn the nightmares."  
   "Oh, well, in that case we've got two tiny problems here ...", 
Mulder said.  
   "Which are?"  
   "Well, my window faces south, I don't get any sunlight in  
the morning. Besides I'm not going to sleep with an open  
window!"  
   Scully smiled. "In that case I guess we'll just have to  
improvise, won't we?" She pulled a chair to the window, then  
went through his collection of stationery and revealed a thumb- 
tack, and within seconds she had the dream catcher attached to  
his ceiling. "Looks all right, don't you think?"  
   "It does, though it doesn't catch any sunlight now", he  
answered a bit uneasily.  
   Scully rolled her eyes. "Didn't your mother ever teach you  
how to at least pretend you're grateful?" She jumped off the chair  
and crossed her arms. "Here I am", she said, "defying my beliefs  
in rational science by buying something like this, then facing you  
on one of those night you clearly planned to spend with a six-pack  
of beer and a few of those disgusting videos that aren't yours; and  
when, in the end, I risk my neck on one of your chairs to attach  
this thing to the ceiling, you start nit-picking! I think it's time for  
me to bid you good-night and leave you alone, Fox Mulder!"  
   Mulder chuckled, not in the least intimidated by her words.  
"I guess you're right", he answered, surprising her by giving her a  
sound kiss on her cheek. "I like it. I really do. Thank you very  
much, Scully!"  
   She smiled. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it." Then  
she took her purse and opened the door. "Good night, Mulder, see  
you in the morning, seven o'clock sharp!"  
   "G'-night, Scully", he said and she closed the door behind  
her.  
   'A dream catcher', Mulder thought when he was once  
again alone in his apartment. 'Phew.'  
   He turned around and sitting down on his couch he flipped  
channels, feeling quite tired. And before he knew it he was fast  
asleep, the only sounds in the apartment the sounds of his TV  
where a woman was getting brutally murdered by killer pussy-cats ...  
  
   "Fox, leave your sister alone!"  
   Fox sighed and his sister stuck her tongue out to him.  
   "Nah-nah-nah! You know mommy likes me better than  
you!" she nagged, a smug expression on her little face. His  
masculine pride demanded revenge, so in a flash he took one of  
her long shiny plaits and he pulled. Hard.  
   She screamed and crying loudly she ran towards their  
mother. Fox knew what was coming, but it didn't matter. His  
humiliation had seen revenge; besides, his father wasn't here  
anyway, he wouldn't get punished very badly ...  
   "I will never ever play with you again, Fox!" his sister  
screamed, seeking comfort in her mother's arms. "You are mean!"  
   She cried and Fox sighed. What was it in little girls that  
they could always have it their way? What was the reason that she  
could start a fight and he'd still be the one who got blamed? Once  
she had told him that adults always liked girls better than boys  
because girls were so much cuter. Of course he had refused to  
believe that ludicrous idea, but right now he seriously started  
contemplating it. So far it had worked out that way every time ...  
   He walked on, his personality wallowing in the feeling of  
injustice the world had caused in him. He found a pebble in his  
way and kicked it away. After all, what pebble would have the  
guts to be in his way and not deserve being punished for this  
unforgivable crime? Clouds of dry sand appeared with every kick  
he gave the pebble.  
   'Girls ...'  
   "Fox!"  
   He sighed. His mother again. He thought about ignoring  
her, about pretending not to have heard her, but his mother was  
no fool. And her hands were always hitting target when she  
thought he deserved it ...  
   He sighed again, feeling tremendously sorry for himself.  
"Yes, mother?"  
   "Fox, come here!" she shouted.  
   Fox picked up the pebble and put it in a little bag he  
always carried with him. The bag contained the treasures of his  
world, infinitely valuable things such as two round stones, a  
feather, an egg-shell -- broken, true, but he knew nobody who had  
ever seen such a beautiful blue hue -- a rabbit-skull, and some  
beads which he had taken from his mother when she wasn't  
looking. He was a very rich man indeed ...  
   When he was almost where his mother was he saw two  
people he didn't recognise. His mother did seem to know them  
though, and she was awfully polite to them.  
   She saw him and hurried towards him. "Fox, you look  
terrible", she whispered. "What are those black smears on your  
face?" She shook her head in frustration, just like he did. What  
did she mean by 'smear'? These were war-colours! He was the  
chief of the mighty Navajo tribe! Well, before his friend had to go  
home that was. Right now he was simply Fox again, but he still  
wore the colours of a chief. And the world should take that into  
account, no questions asked. "We've got important guests, so for  
once try to behave like a good little boy, will you?"  
   " 'Kay, mom", he sighed.  
   His mother seemed content with his answer. "And this is  
one of my sons, sir", she said in the most syrupy voice he had ever  
heard from her. It made him hate these people instantly. If these  
people were so important that his mother went all grovelling, then  
they couldn't be up to much good.   
   And they were white people. He didn't like white people.  
They dressed stupid. They made him dress stupid. They had  
invented school. He didn't want to go to school, his father had  
never gone to school, yet he was the best hunter of the entire tribe.  
What good was being able to read and write of that took away  
valuable time learning how to hunt? Reading the Bible was  
probably good for something, but as long as God didn't catch the  
buffalo, he preferred being an excellent, though illiterate, hunter!  
   "Hello, little fellow", the man said, extending his hand.  
Fox didn't take it. The man looked ridiculous with that top hat. He  
didn't like people who looked ridiculous.  
   "Come on, Fox, behave!" his mother whispered.  
   With a sigh and a wary glance he shook the gentleman's  
hand. The man seemed pleased.  
   "Now there's a good little boy. What's your name?"  
   "Fox", he said, hiding his fury. A *little boy*? He was a man!  
Damn right he was!  
   "His name is John, sir", his mother said quickly and with  
an apologetic smile.  
   "No, it isn't, mom, it's Fox!" he protested. His mother  
always made white people call him John. It was as if his Indian  
name wasn't good enough ...  
   "So, your name's Fox then, isn't it?" the man said, paying  
no attention to his mother's words. The man smiled. "That's quite  
a coincidence, young man, as my name is Fox as well."  
   Fox looked up. A white man with an Indian name? That  
was weird!  
   "Oh, by the way, this is my wife, Katherine Mulder", the  
man introduced the woman beside him.  
   "Good afternoon, madam", she said to Fox's mother.  
"Hello, Fox"  
  Fox shook her hand. She was pretty, he noticed, but her  
hair was so red! He had never seen a person with hair as red as  
hers. He wondered what was wrong with her ... "Hello, ma'am",  
he said, receiving a satisfied little nod from his mother.  
   "Actually", the man said, "we just came by because she's  
going to be the new teacher at the school in town while I'll be  
deputy sheriff for the time being. She suggested going around and  
meeting her future pupils." He looked at Fox during these words.  
   Future pupil. Hah! He wasn't going to school, that was for  
damn sure! But he wisely kept his mouth shut. No use upsetting  
these people already ...  
   "We arrived only a few days ago, so we haven't had much  
time to meet other people. She intends on starting as a teacher on  
January 5th. Of 1816, of course!" he added with an amused grin.  
   Fox was not amused. Yes, *of course* she'd start in 1816 if  
she wanted to start on January 5th! It wasn't like she could go  
back in time to January 5th of this year! He made a mental note of  
having to ask his mother whether white people thought this a  
funny joke or that they were simply that stupid ...  
   "Do you have any more children apart from little Fox  
here?" Mrs Mulder asked.  
   'Little Fox'? God ...   
   "Oh yes, ma'am", his mother said. "I have four girls and  
two boys. Six children."  
   "Heather had a baby last month", Fox proclaimed proudly.  
Oh yes, a nice little baby boy to play with!  
   "Heather is your sister?" Mrs Mulder asked and Fox  
nodded. Then she turned to his mother. "And what is you name,  
madam?"  
   "Elisa, ma'am", she answered, the name sounding  
unfamiliar on her tongue. "Elisa Margaret"  
   "I take it those are not your Indian names, are they?" Mrs  
Mulder asked and his mother shook her head. "Then what is your  
real name?"  
   "I ... I'd rather not tell, ma'am", she answered, her head  
bowed.  
   Fox saw Mr Mulder frown and open his mouth to protest,  
but his wife cut him off with a smile and saying: "Of course,  
Elisa, that's all right."  
   Meanwhile Fox had noticed that his sister had once again  
made her escape. Lucky her, she could play whilst he was stuck  
here, getting interrogated by the new deputy and his wife ... He  
decided to thoroughly spoil his sister's fun.  
   "Mother, why is Mary not here?"  
   "Mary?" Mr Mulder said.  
   "Mary is my eight-year-old daughter, sir. She was here just  
a minute ago, in fact I don't know where she's gone ..." Mary was  
nowhere to be seen. Typical ...  
   "Excuse me, sir, ma'am", his mother said. "Mary!"  
   Fox decided to help. The sooner he had gotten her here,  
the sooner he'd be released from this dreadful talking. After all, a  
girl's cuteness should be good for something, right? "Mary!!"  
   "I'm here, mother", a high girl's voice sounded amidst the  
sound of trampling hoofs. His sister approached them ... riding  
his father's best horse! Hey-ho, he was gonna get her in trouble  
with this big time! Maybe his ultimate act of brotherly revenge  
came sooner than he'd thought!  
   "Ah, there she is", his mother said. Then she turned  
towards her daughter. "Come on, Mary, dismount! It's not polite  
to stay on a horse whilst talking to people!"  
   "But I don't wanna get off!" Mary drawled, a stubborn look  
crossing her features.  
   "It's fine, Mary", Mr Mulder said. "You can stay on the  
horse if you want to." Fox didn't think that sounded very sincere.  
   Meanwhile Mary had approached Mrs Mulder. "That's a  
beautiful dress, ma'am", she said with barely disguised awe as she  
looked at the burgundy silk gown the white woman was wearing.  
"I want to have a dress like that when I'm older too. Are they very  
expensive?"  
   Mrs Mulder looked at her dress and so did Fox. He didn't  
see what it was that Mary thought beautiful about it. He thought it  
looked hot and confining. And not at all comfortable. "Well", said  
Mrs Mulder, "I'm sure when you grow up you wi- ..."  
   At that very moment a rabbit ran past them. Mary's horse  
started and with a loud neighing it bolted.  
   "Mary!!!" his mother and Mrs Mulder screamed  
simultaneously.  
   "Fox!! Fox, help me!!!" Mary screamed as the horse under  
her went totally out of control. She tried to hold onto the horse's  
manes as the animal jumped and ran towards the river. Then,  
when it was a mere ten yards from the river bed, the horse made a  
90 degree turn, a move so sudden that Mary lost her grip and got  
thrown into the fast-flowing river.  
   "Oh God", Fox heard his mother's horrified words. "She  
can't swim! Please!! Someone please save my little girl!!!" And  
Fox made up his mind.  
   Before the white man had had a chance to take off so much  
as his coat, Fox was in the river. Mary may have been his most  
annoying little sister, but she was his sister and he was her big  
brother and he had to take care of her. He had to make sure she  
was safe. He was her big strong brother and he was responsible  
for her ...  
   "Mary!" he shouted. "Mary! Hang on, Mary, I'll get you!  
Don't worry!!" Damn, the current was so strong right here ...  
Then he lost his balance on the slippery rock under him and he  
fell backwards into the water. He wildly flung his arms around to  
get to the surface, but was terrified to find his arms caught in the  
plants that grew under the surface of the water. He felt his lungs  
slowly fill with water as he desperately tried to pull himself loose.  
In a surge of panic he opened his mouth, trying to get the oxygen  
his body needed, but only managed to get down a large amount of  
even more water. The pressure on his lungs made every cell in his  
body hurt like hell and in a desperate attempt he pulled again.   
   Then the feeling of asphyxiation diminished within a  
heart-beat and as all went black, he idly pulled a last time, a  
weak, uncaring movement which -- without him knowing it --  
was enough to make the plants let him go. His body floated to the  
surface and was pulled from the water together with the body of  
his little sister by a white man with a ridiculous top hat and a  
woman in a burgundy silk dress, and tears were rolling over their  
faces.  
  
   "Mulder? Mulder, wake up", he heard a gentle voice near  
his ear and a hand tugging insistently at his shoulder. He tried to  
open his eyes, but his vision was clouded by tears that streamed  
from under his closed eye-lids. He was clutching his pillow for  
dear life.  
   "Mulder, are you awake?" Scully asked, noticing his  
change in position on the couch.  
   He nodded. "He's dead, Scully", he said, his voice breaking  
on the words and he held onto the pillow as if it were a little  
child. He rubbed it in a comforting gesture.  
   "Who is dead, Mulder?" Scully whispered.  
   "Fox is dead", he sobbed. "And Mary's dead ... No-one  
could save them ..."  
   Scully was silent. Stupefied. "M-Mary?"  
   Mulder nodded. "His little sister. She fell into the river and  
drowned ..." He seemed to wake up slowly and, still holding the  
pillow tenderly, he sat up and used the back of his hands to wipe  
away the tears on his face and from his eyes.  
   Scully sat down beside him and rubbed his back, not  
showing her amazement at hearing his words. Fox ... And Mary.  
Mary ... She had made a promise about Mary ...  
   "Mulder, there's someth- ...", she began, but at that  
moment Mulder looked at the clock and saw the time. 11:03 a.m.  
   "Oh, God, Scully", he said, instantaneously awakened. "It's  
eleven o'clock! We were supposed to start at seven!" He looked at  
her. "What happened?"  
   "Well", she said. "That's what I came to your apartment  
for. You didn't show up for work this morning and you didn't  
answer your phone nor was the machine on so I got worried. I was  
afraid something happened to you."  
   Mulder looked at her, at last releasing the grip on the  
pillow. It was a pillow again. When he spoke, his words came  
slowly, deliberately.  
   "I think something did happen, Scully", he said. "I think I  
saw something ..." He was silent for a moment. Then he looked  
down at the pillow he had held to tenderly and continued. "I ... I  
know you don't buy much of the stuff I believe in, Scully, but ..."  
He looked at her, "it almost feels like I had a dream which ...  
which showed me something an ordinary dream doesn't. A life I  
lived before this life ..." He awaited her reaction.  
   She smiled. "I think you might have, Mulder. Would you  
like to tell me more about it?"  
   He looked in her eyes for a conformation that told him she  
really meant her words of interest. They held a gentle invitation of  
sincere interest so he continued. "I was in an Indian village, in  
1815 or 1816. I was dressed in 19th century clothes with a top hat  
which ... which the boy didn't seem to like ... Fox didn't like my  
clothes." He frowned, then smiled a bit. "And I saw ... you." He  
laughed softly. "We were married, I think we were very happy  
together. You were a teacher and I was a sheriff's deputy." He had  
taken her hand and held it warmly. "I know it sounds unlikely,  
you and I married, but ... but I think we didn't question it back  
then. I think it would have been expected from a man and woman  
who were together so much of the time. Still is, I guess ... 1999  
and 1815 aren't very different I think ..."  
   There was no way he could know how his words, so  
casually uttered, affected her. She was sitting completely still, her  
eyes fixed on his tender caressing of her hand, her mind starting  
the fantasy she had cherished for so long, but never dared to so  
much as think about.  
   "... Fox's mother was there and his sister", Mulder  
continued, his voice starting to sound hollow with unshed tears.  
"His sister drowned, Scully", he said looking at her, his eyes  
filling with tears. He started to weep softly when he continued. "...  
They both drowned ... and there was nothing I could do about it ...  
nothing ..." He cried with his face in the pillow and for once  
Scully decided to give in to her sentimental heart and allowed him  
to cry in her arms, allowed herself to open her heart to him for  
comfort.  
   His voice was a mere whisper when he spoke again. "He  
died in my arms, Scully. I pulled him from the river, but he didn't  
breathe. He died in my arms ..." Then suddenly the pitch in his  
voice changed and when he spoke again his voice was the voice of  
a child. "I tried to save her, father, I really did ..."  
   Scully felt her heart break and before she knew it she  
found herself talking to him in a way a mother would speak to her  
little boy, rather than an FBI-agent speaking to her partner. "I  
know you did, Fox, I know you tried to save her ..."  
   She rocked him slowly, soothingly. "And you know, Mary  
forgives you, too", she whispered with a smile, kissing his fingers  
softly.  
   He looked up at her, his eyes soft and wondering. "She  
does?"  
   "Of course she does. You told me so yourself ...", Scully  
answered smiling, an answer which was rewarded by a smile, a  
sigh, and a soft sob from the man next to her. He rested his head  
on her shoulder and closed his eyes.  
   After a short while she noticed he had dozed off and she  
laid him down on the couch, her right hand clutched firmly to his  
chest by both his hands, while her left hand took her phone out of  
her coat pocket and with a few short words she called them both  
in sick. Then she placed the phone on the side-table and watched  
him dream.  
  
The End