DISCLAIMERS: After months of intensive therapy, I have 


finally progressed to the point where I can admit that 


Mulder and Scully don't belong to me.  Turns out those 


voices in my head were lying to me---they really 


belong to Chris Carter, FOX, and 1013.  Mulder and 


Scully, I mean, not the voices.  Although sometimes I 


think CC hears them, too.  Sure would explain a lot.


SPOILER: Beyond the Sea.


RATING: PG-13 for language.


CLASSIFICATION: V/A, Mulder/Scully UST.  


SUMMARY: Scully goes to visit Boggs in jail after 


Mulder has been shot, and finds more than she 


bargained for.  


BACKGROUND: I have learned, to my dismay, that Chris 


Carter was stomping shipper impulses as early as first 


season. In Scully's visit with Boggs after Mulder has 


been shot, she says, "I came here to tell you that if 


he *dies* because of what you've done, four days from 


now, nobody will stop *me* from being the one that'll 


throw the switch and gas you out of this life for 


*good* you son of a *bitch*!" However, my spies tell 


me that the original version of that line was slightly 


different than what ended up on the show.  I liked the 


original better, and ran with it.  The title is Latin 


for "a sick man's dreams."


COMMENTS: Thanks again to Laine for yet another 


wonderful beta.  You're the best.  Oh, yeah, send the 


feedback to: jenbird@earthlink.net











AEGRI SOMNIA


by: Jennifer Maurer





I don't think I've ever been so angry in my life.  





I try not to think about why and instead let the 


adrenaline propel me.





I have pushed aside my fears for Mulder to concentrate 


on the hatred I feel for Luther Boggs.  I left the 


hospital while Mulder was still in surgery.  I 


couldn't bear to sit around and wait.  All I could do 


was replay the scene in my head over and over, from 


the crack of the gunshot to Mulder's lifeless body 


being wheeled into the ER.  





This is the only place I want to be.  Doing this will 


not ease any of my pain and guilt, but it is something 


I have to do.





It should have been me who was shot.  





Punishment for believing.





I burst into Boggs's cell before the gate has opened 


all the way.  He turns to look at me, startled by my 


angry expression.





"You set us up.  You're in on this with Lucas Henry.  


This was a trap for Mulder because he helped put you 


away.  Well, I came here to tell you that if I *lose 


him* because of what you've done, four days from now, 


nobody will stop *me* from being the one that'll throw 


the switch and gas you out of this life for *good* you 


son of a *bitch*!"





I watch Boggs's expression turn self-righteous as I 


finish screaming.  The sight angers me so much that I 


have to turn away or I will grab him by his greasy 


hair and slam his head against the wall.





"Dana..." he begins.





I turn to face...Mulder.  Mulder is sitting on Boggs's 


bunk, wearing his orange prison uniform.  My heart 


stops.





"You're the one who believed me."  God help me, it's 


even Mulder's voice.  I shut my eyes and clap my hands 


over my ears.





"NO!  No, I do *not* believe you!"





"You don't believe me, maybe you'll believe yourself."





Boggs heaves a gusty sigh and slumps over, his chin 


resting on his chest.  His head rolls around and then 


he looks back up at me.  On his face is an expression 


of disappointment.





"Why did you lie on your police report?  What you're 


really saying is that you didn't want to go on record 


admitting that you believed Boggs.  The Bureau would 


expect something like that from *Spooky* Mulder, but 


not Dana Scully."





It's not Mulder's voice this time but the words are 


like a knife to my heart just the same.  In a bizarre 


reversal of roles, he had tried to talk me out of my 


beliefs.  He was worried I wouldn't be careful, and 


get hurt.  Now he's the one dying.  Ripped away from 


me, like my father was.





"Does this have to do with your father?"





I don't know if I can stand it.  I can't breathe.  I 


can't find my voice to scream at Boggs to stop.  He's 


not supplying my half of the conversation, but he 


doesn't have to.  I am reliving every second of this 


encounter with my partner.





"If this is clouding your judgment, you're putting 


yourself in danger."





"Stop, I can't..." I choke on the rest of my sentence, 


determined not to show that I am allowing myself to 


believe in Boggs's psychic abilities.  I feel my 


control slip through my fingers.  Everyone I love is 


leaving me.  I'm losing all my chances to say how I 


feel.  I close my eyes to stop the tears.





"C'mon, Dana," he drawls, "Tell me you've opened 


yourself up to extreme possibilities.  Mulder might 


not be pleased, but I'd sure like to hear you say it."





Every scientific instinct I possess is screaming at me 


to deny it, but I believe Luther Boggs.  I believe he 


can somehow channel other people's souls.  I could 


convince myself that hearing him sing "Beyond the Sea" 


was coincidence, or even the product of my distraught 


imagination.  Now that Boggs has quoted Mulder's 


conversation back to me, I must admit it, if only to 


myself.





I open my eyes and stare at Boggs, the tears finally 


overflowing and streaking down my cheeks.  Boggs 


reaches in the pocket of his prison uniform and hands 


me a tissue.  Stunned by the gesture, I reach out with 


a shaking hand and take it.  I smear away the tears 


and force myself under control.





"Mulder did say those things to you, didn't he."





I nod.  Boggs sits back in satisfaction.





"I knew he did.  He's worried about you."





"I know," I whisper.





"He says I'm the greatest of lies."





I nod again.





"But you know I'm not.  You know I'm telling the 


truth, don't you, Scully?"





I turn away, ashamed.  "I don't know what to believe 


anymore," I mutter.





"Believe in extreme possibilities only when they're 


the truth.  That goes for Luther Boggs, and your 


father."





<Oh, Mulder...>





I turn on Boggs and get in his face.





"ENOUGH!"





He sits back again, runs his hands through his hair.  


Watches me.  Waits.  I force the words out.  They 


taste bitter.





"I...believe you, Luther."





His smile is not smug with satisfaction as I expected.  


It is relieved.  After his stunt with the scrap of 


Knicks jersey, Boggs knew he wasn't convincing Mulder 


anytime soon.  I get the feeling he is not a Svengali 


looking for another sucker.  Boggs simply wants 


someone, anyone, to believe him.  





Now he has me.





"Thank you, Dana," he says.





"For what?" I ask bitterly.





"For admitting you believe me.  I know it was hard for 


you."





I close my eyes and sigh.  "You have no idea."





"Oh, I think maybe I do," he answers, "I know how 


worried you are about Mulder.  Especially after losing 


your father."





My eyes fly open and I stare daggers at him.





"How did you---?" I cut myself off, angry at myself 


for confirming his suspicions.  Then I decide, what 


the hell, he somehow knew anyway.  I have nothing left 


to lose.





"You believe in me, Dana," Boggs reminds me.  "For 


better or worse, you're stuck with that.  Not even 


Mulder will ever be able to convince you otherwise."





I grit my teeth, not wanting to face the truth in his 


statement.  Mulder can say what he likes about Boggs, 


but this time our roles have truly been reversed.  The 


skeptic has been converted, if only temporarily.





"Not that Mulder has ever been able to convince you of 


much of anything," he adds in an offhand manner.





I glare at him, my patience with his psychic abilities 


(and how quickly I have accepted their validity) fast 


running out.





"You don't know the first thing about Mulder and me," 


I snap.





Boggs gives me a sly smile.  





"I know more than you might think, Dana."





I exhale loudly, as annoyed with myself for giving him 


the opening as I am with him for taking it.  





"Really, Luther?  Such as...?"





I wait for him to replay another conversation I've had 


with Mulder.  Already I am adapting to my belief in 


Boggs's abilities, the shift in my mindset.  That 


frightens me a little.





"Oh, you know," he drawls, giving me a shy smile that 


is horrible to see on his face.





"No, Luther, I don't," I snap, "Unlike you, I don't 


have the ability to read minds, so why don't you 


just..."





"He will love you, Dana.  Someday." Luther interrupts 


quietly, almost meekly.  





"I am sick and tired of your mind games, Luther," I 


say quietly, willing my voice not to shake.  I have 


recovered from my brief lapse of control, and 


determination turns all my agitation into a cold rage.





"I am giving you one more chance to tell me: where are 


those kids?"  My voice is crisp and professional once 


again.





Boggs sits back against the wall, a cunning look 


spreading over his face that is easy to read: he wants 


to deal.  I'd spit in his face if it weren't for those 


kids.  I am more convinced than ever that he knows 


where they are.  I can't afford to scorn him, not with 


their lives at stake.





"What makes you think I know anything about that?" he 


asks innocently.





I roll my eyes.  





"Oh, come on, Luther," I answer, "That's why you 


called Mulder down here, isn't it?  To show off your 


amazing abilities, find the kids, and save your sorry 


ass?  Well, you got your revenge on Mulder, and now 


you have me to believe you in his place.  So don't 


insult my intelligence by playing dumb at this late 


date."





He nods, impressed.





"Fine.  You're right.  So let's get down to brass 


tacks.  Nobody finds out anything until I get a deal."





Dread rises in me, the kind I imagine Mulder might 


feel when he has to explain one of his theories to me 


and face my skepticism.  I believe Luther and I am 


willing to risk everything on that belief.  But how 


will I ever convince someone else without sounding 


like a lunatic?





And the answer, that Mulder must also know, is this: 


you can't.  You charge ahead and ignore the funny 


looks.  When it's over and you're right, you keep 


quiet while they explain it away.  In your heart you 


know that you saved someone's life, and maybe that's 


enough.





It will have to be, for me.





"What kind of deal?" I ask dully, already knowing what 


he will say.





"My life for the kids'."





I sigh, only wanting to get this over with as quickly 


as possible.  Besides, a nasty little voice whispers, 


you don't have to keep your word on this one.  Who 


would blame you for lying to a murderer?  You can just 


tell Boggs that the deal was denied, and he'll never 


know the difference.





"And don't play games with me, Dana," he continues 


suddenly, as if he has read my thoughts. "Do 


*not* underestimate my fear of dying and do *not* 


underestimate my fear of going to back to that gas 


chamber."





I think of my father, and his belief in honor.  I  


know that I cannot deceive Boggs, no matter what kind 


of monster he is.  If we find those kids I will have 


to make a genuine effort to save his worthless life.  





"I understand, Luther."





He looks at me, into me, and sees I am telling him the 


truth.  He nods.  His gaze drops from my face and goes 


somewhere far away.  I flinch in spite of myself when 


he starts to gasp and his eyes roll back into his 


head.





"Blue...it's the devil...old machines...keeps 'em 


there...he's almost ready..."





I scribble all this down, hoping it's not another one 


of Boggs's tricks, when his eyes fly open and he looks 


right through me.





"The old Blue Devil Brewery.  They're there."





I slap my notebook shut and turn to go.





"SCULLY!"





My heart freezes in my chest.  It's Mulder's voice 


again.  I turn slowly, praying that it will be Boggs I 


see, and not Mulder.





My prayer is not answered.





The prison bunk has been replaced with a hospital bed.  


Mulder is lying in it, tubes snaking into his body.  


He is again wearing an orange prison uniform and looks 


as pale as death.





"Oh my God, no..." I whimper.





"Be careful, Scully," Mulder/Boggs begs me.  "Don't 


follow Lucas to the devil.  Please be careful.  If I 


lose you because of what he's done..."





I clap my hands over my ears again and shriek, unable 


to withstand the emotions that are engulfing me.  Fear 


for Mulder, pain for my father, my disgust and 


fascination with Boggs.  The events of the past few 


days have finally broken my iron self-control and I 


think for a few seconds that I really am going crazy.





I am brought back to reality by the sound of pounding 


footsteps coming down the hall.  I turn to the door 


without opening my eyes and grip the bars.  The 


guard's voice grounds me.





"Agent Scully!  Are you all right?"





I open my eyes and manage to compose my face.





"I'm fine, thank you.  I just...had a scare, that's 


all."





The guard opens the door and solicitously escorts me 


out of the cell.





"Watch it, scumbag, or you'll be going right back to 


solitary," he snarls over my shoulder, back into the 


cell.





For a crazy moment I think about asking the guard if 


he sees anything...but I gather the scraps of my 


control around me and turn to look for myself.





Boggs is lying back on his bunk, looking wasted.  He 


turns his head slowly and looks at me.





"Dana," he calls out weakly, "You remember what I 


said, now.  You believe one thing, you got to believe 


all of it.  They love you and they want you to take 


good care.  Don't leave Mulder to follow the devil..."  


His voice trails off into incoherent mumbling.





I stumble away from the cell door and down the hall, 


using all of my concentration to get out of this 


place.  Another officer offers to drive me back to the 


hospital and I accept gratefully.





In the end, it falls out as Luther predicted it would.  


Lucas Henry was holding the kids in the Blue Devil 


Brewery.  I saw that scowling blue face and 


froze...which saved me from plunging to my death.





I will go back to the prison later and thank Luther 


for saving my life.  Why he chose to spare mine when 


he took so many others, I don't know.  And, although 


it repulses me to be in his debt, I am nevertheless 


grateful to be alive.  Perhaps it was his way of 


repaying my unwilling belief in him.  It probably will 


not save him, but somehow I don't think that was 


Boggs's only motivation anyway.





Sitting by Mulder's bed, I think about everything I 


have to tell him.  I know he will be angry with me for 


listening to Boggs even though it ended up saving 


lives.  Mostly I think about that one thing Boggs said 


to me.  





<He will love you, Dana.  Someday.>





I wait for Mulder to wake up and wonder if I will tell 


him.





I wonder how much of what Boggs said is the truth, or 


will be the truth in the future.  And, despite my 


newfound and reluctant belief, I wonder just how he 


knew.








***


End 1/1





Well, that one surprised even me.  Boggs turned out a 


little nicer than I planned.  Hey, maybe he did kill 


his entire family over Thanksgiving dinner, but he 


saved Scully, so he can't be *all* bad, right? ;) 


Send your comments to: jenbird@earthlink.net