From: sugarellie2000@yahoo.com   
      
   Chapter 13   
      
      
   I open my eyes and look around unaware of where I am   
   at first. It takes a while before my eyes register a   
   ceiling quite similar to the one of the hotel room   
   we’ve been living in. I feel my leg, asleep from lying   
   in an awkward position. It takes another few moments   
   to become aware of a feeling of uneasiness and the   
   strangeness of that. I’m at the hotel room, I was   
   sleeping in my bed and I have the strange feeling I   
   don’t belong here.   
   	Unable to place it I get up. I walk to the bathroom   
   to take a pee and start to ponder what the day will   
   bring. I’ll go to the police station, where are we on   
   the case? Then it hits me. I’m not supposed to be   
   here. Well, I am, but I’m not here. Everything flashes   
   back to me. The case, Colton, Stradford and   
   Fitzgerald, the victims, Fitzgerald’s dead body, the   
   search, Scully, oh God, Scully.   
   	I sit down against the wall, suddenly breathing   
   rapidly. Capwell, Scully, the Dreamland, Scully. I   
   need to find her. Worry is grabbing my heart,   
   squeezing it until it can barely beat anymore.   
   	Where is she? Where am I? Am I in my own dreams or am   
   I in hers? The last. So if I’m in her dreams, am I   
   real, or is there another dream-Mulder walking around   
   here? And where is she? Where would I be in her   
   dreams?   
   The strangeness of it hits me. I’m walking, peeing,   
   feeling the cold of the bathroom tiles like it’s all   
   real. But it’s not. I now understand why those women,   
   why Scully didn’t wake up. How can you discern this   
   from real life, if you don’t know you’re sleeping.   
   Even I am not entirely sure I’m dreaming. I takes a   
   minute for me to fully grasp the situation and with   
   that my task at hand becomes apparent again. Where   
   would I be in her dreams?   
   	Her hotel room, the police station? But what if she’s   
   not in Chicago. It’s her dream, her world. She could   
   be anywhere. Where do I start? I walk towards the door   
   connecting are rooms and knock on it, hard. But no   
   answer.   
   	Her cell phone. I grab mine and push the speed dial   
   number. A woman’s voice tells me this person is unable   
   to answer because he or she is out of reach from the   
   network. The voice conjures up memories and constricts   
   my throat while worry fills my mind again, but I shake   
   it off. I quickly put some clothes on and decide to   
   drive to the police station to see if she’s there. I   
   get my car keys and practically run to my car. The   
   tires shriek as I pull away.   
   	There must be a reason I woke up here, instead of DC.   
   She must still be in Chicago. But where? Something   
   tells me she isn’t at the police station. Aimlessly I   
   drive around, the vastness of Chicago hitting me, all   
   the while fearing the vastness of the whole of the   
   United States. If she’s not here, not at home in DC,   
   where is she. I try her cell phone again, but of   
   course the woman still tells me the same. Distracted,   
   I don’t see the cars putting on the brakes in front of   
   me, and I have to jam mine to come to a halt in time.   
   I look at the crossroad, not really seeing, then   
   suddenly I do.   
   	Quarry’s industry park.   
   	The warehouse.   
   	I recklessly change lanes when finally the lights   
   turn green again. It’s somehow the best chance I have   
   if she’s still in Chicago. For a moment I contemplate   
   the strangeness of having to fly to DC in her dreams.   
   Technically, if they were my dreams, I should be able   
   to force my mind to think I’m in DC. Unfortunately I   
   don’t think my rules apply in her dream world.   
   I drive fast. Fast enough  to have my license taken   
   away indefinitely. Then I realize I can’t have my   
   license taken away, I’m in Scully’s dream. Though she   
   would probably find it just if I was caught speeding,   
   while in her dream. She told me who knows how many   
   times I needed to obey to the laws of traffic. The   
   closer I get to the warehouse the surer I am that   
   she’s there. I start to feel it in my gut. She’s   
   there. Excitement flushes me.   
   	I’m there and it looks exactly the same as last time   
   I got here. Though I can’t really get here, because   
   I’m still there. Going back to where I am. I feel a   
   sneaking curiosity to see myself lying in a coma,   
   though I know it isn’t possible. I slam my car door   
   shut and run to the front door, where I find the door   
   unlocked. As far as I can see the main hall is   
   deserted and I feel a stab of disappointment. Then my   
   eye falls onto the back and I remember the basement.   
   This time I find the trap-door effortlessly and I   
   hesitate only slightly before opening it. So close,   
   finally. My hand pushes down the doorknob, the door   
   opens and I step into an empty room, I recognize from   
   an earlier encounter.   
   	How can this be? I know she’s here, I can feel her   
   everywhere around me, in me. I open every door and   
   look in the empty rooms behind them. I want to scream,   
   cry. Where is she? Where is she? I knew she was here.   
   How could I be so wrong? I slam my hand against the   
   wall in anger. Hard enough to have it really hurt.   
   Which feels good. For a moment it can distract me from   
   a pain much worse.   
   	“FUCK!”   
   	I walk back up the stairs again. The despair is   
   overwhelming. Where can she be then? DC. I curse the   
   time it will cost me to get there. I cross the main   
   room and I’m only halfway when the front door opens.   
   Then my breath, my heart, my feet, everything stops.   
      
   ~   
   	   
   The trip went by. Not slow, not fast, it just went by.   
   I sat in the airplane, looking out of the window the   
   entire flight. I wasn’t even excited, as I had thought   
   I would be. Nor anxious. I just sat there, looking out   
   the window at the clouds. Only once I thought of   
   heaven and where Mulder isn’t.   
   	The cab ride is the same. I plainly state my   
   destination and he drives, on and on. I look out the   
   window, occasionally recognizing things from my   
   previous stay, but no feeling. None. I think my heart   
   is bracing itself for impact. An all or nothing   
   response. As soon as I feel something, I will feel   
   everything and I will sit down on the ground and cry   
   like the world has ended. But for me it will have.   
   	Maybe it is this last goal, this final destination I   
   have to visit that holds me upright on the way over   
   there. To come to terms with it, or maybe to realize I   
   can never come to terms with it. I am drawn there, I   
   need to see it, where he has died, before I...before I   
   would.   
   	“18,70, lady”   
   	I give him twenty and get out. It’s the place all   
   right, but no memories of it come to mind. I realize   
   I’ve never seen the outside. Unconscious when I came   
   her, unconscious when I got out. He was conscious when   
   he got in and dead when he came out. Death surrounded   
   this case from the beginning and it only got worse.   
   Slowly I walk up to the front door. I never even   
   wondered how I would get in. I have no key or anything   
   to pick the lock with. Surprisingly the doorknob gives   
   way when I push it down. A sigh of relief escapes me,   
   though it might as well be a sigh of anxiety.   
   	I push the door open and a strip of sunlight falls on   
   the dusty floor. Apart from that it’s pitch-black   
   inside, but that strip is enough. I feel it everywhere   
   around me, in me, that this is where he must have   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)