TITLE:  Nightmare (1/1)

AUTHOR:  Brandon D. Ray

EMAIL ADDRESS:  publius@avalon.net

FEEDBACK:  Lay it on me.  I'm tough; I can take it.

DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:   Anywhere and everywhere, so long as my name stays
on it and no money changes hands.

SPOILER WARNING:  None

RATING:  NC-17 for sexual content and violence

CONTENT WARNING:  Character death; also, the treatment of religion may be
upsetting to some readers

CLASSIFICATION:  VA

SUMMARY:  Bill Scully, jr., has a nightmare

COMMENT:  This was originally written as a chapter in a longer piece (which
I am still working on).  It turned out not to be appropriate for several
reasons, but I am nevertheless proud of this bit of writing, and feel that
it can stand alone.

DISCLAIMER:     I don't own these characters.  Sheesh!  Would I be posting
fanfic on a public server for no compensation if I did???

GRACIAS:  To Nonie for beta reading above and beyond the call of duty; and
to Eleanor, who I have come to trust as no other, for wise counsel and
advice -- and for 14 happy years, with many more to come.


Nightmare
by Brandon D. Ray

<<Bill Scully stood at the back of the church, listening to the organ
music.  His dress uniform was snow-white, crisp with starch, and his medals and
decorations, as well as his ceremonial sword, glinted, glinted in the
candlelight.  Dana stood at his side, her bridal gown an equally snowy
white, a look of sublime joy on her face.

<<The music changed; Dana laid a gloved hand on the crook of his elbow, and
they began the slow march down the aisle, towards the altar at the front of
the church.  The pews were packed; Bill saw the joyous faces of friends and
family, including people he hadn't seen in years.

<<Bill felt a constriction in his throat, born of anxiety.  (This isn't
right,) he thought wildly.  (This shouldn't be happening.  Not to my family
-- not to Dana!)  He looked down at her, and tried to speak, but the
constriction in his throat was too strong, his anxiety too intense.

<<Now the altar was clearly visible.  Standing before it, next to Father
McCue, was Fox Mulder.  His suit was black, midnight black, as black as the
soul of a child molester or a serial killer.  On his face he wore an
expression of lust and lasciviousness, and there was an bulge at the crotch
of his trousers that writhed obscenely in seeming anticipation.

<<Bill wanted to run.  He wanted to take his sister's hand and flee from
the church.  (Dana!) His mind called out to her in agony, but still he could
not speak, and his feet kept moving, against his will, carrying him inexorably
forward.

<<Now the music changed again, and with a rising sense of horror, Bill
realized that it was no longer the bridal march, but a dirge for the dead.
He looked down again at Dana; surely NOW she would understand.  But her
face still wore the same mask of oblivious joy, and she continued to walk
towards the altar in measured, deliberate paces -- and Bill could not seem to keep
from matching her, step by step by step.

<<At last they reached the altar.  Dana turned to Bill, her eyes shining,
and she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.  Then she turned way
and moved to stand beside Fox Mulder.  Mulder threw a depraved leer at Bill,
and then the couple turned their backs to him, and faced the priest.  Again
Bill wanted to speak, to cry out, but still he could not utter a word.  He could
not move; he could scarcely even breathe.

<<As Bill watched, helplessly, Father McCue launched into the marriage
ceremony.  Yet the words were not quite right; they seemed twisted and
wrong somehow.  As the priest's words floated over the congregation, gradually
weaving an unbreakable bond between the man and woman standing before him,
Bill fought an inner war, raging and struggling against the mysterious force
that held him silent and unmoving.  (Dana!)  His sister's name echoed in his
mind again.  (Dear God, I beg You by all that's holy, and in Your name, I
must save Dana!)

<<And suddenly he was free!  He looked around wildly; the congregation was
immobile, transfixed, mesmerized -- as Bill had been only a moment
before -- by the spell of words spoken by the priest.  In front of the altar, Dana
still stood by Mulder's side, and now Mulder's hand openly massaged and
explored her buttocks.  And over it all the organ continued to play,
daunting, oppressive and somehow inevitable.

<<With a cry of outrage, Bill leapt forward and grabbed Dana's left arm,
pulling her away from Mulder with a surge of strength that he didn't know
he had.  Father McCue broke off in mid-sentence, and Dana looked up at Bill,
an expression of shock and confusion on her face.  Bill found that he still
was unable to speak, yet somehow he HAD to make her understand.  Already, she
was struggling, trying to pull away, displaying surprising strength as she
commenced to fight against him.  It could only be a matter of seconds, Bill
knew, before Mulder, and perhaps others, would intervene.  He had to act,
NOW.

<<(Dana, I'm sorry!)  Bill cried out in his mind, and slapped her hard
across the face, twice.  Dana stumbled, and fell to her knees, and again she
looked up at him, but now her face displayed hurt, and pain, and fear.  A trickle
of blood emerged from her lip, where his Academy ring had cut her.

<<Yet Mulder did not intervene.  Instead, from the congregation there was a
shocked gasp, followed by a rising growl of anger.  Bill looked up from
Dana's eyes to the congregation, and saw that they had been released from
their trance, and now were rising from the pews.  The guttural, animal
growl rose in volume and in pitch, and their faces were twisted into masks of
malignant hatred and evil.  Bill watched in horror as the people emerged
from the pews and began advancing in his direction.

<<Desperately, he took Dana's hand and dragged her to her feet.  (We have
to get out of here!) he screamed at her in his mind.  But already the aisle
was completely blocked by the advancing congregation, now transformed into an
ugly, soulless mob. Through all of this, Fox Mulder stood silently, unmoving, 
the same lewd, anticipatory smile on his face, and the music continued to play.

<<Bill yanked Dana to his side, and dragged her up the steps to the altar.
Surely Father McCue --

<<But even as the thought formed in Bill's mind, it shattered and was gone.
The priest stood behind the altar, as silent and motionless as Mulder, and
wearing the same look of prurient lust.  At that sight, Bill's sense of
horror rose to a fever pitch, and for the first time in his life he felt
rising in his mind the feeling of pure, unbridled terror.  He knees almost
buckled, and only his duty to protect his sister allowed him to remain in
control of his faculties.

<<With a mighty heave he overturned the altar, and pushed the priest aside.
He dragged Dana with him, despite her renewed effort to fight and struggle.
The congregation continued to advance.

<<All too soon, Bill and Dana reached the back wall behind the altar, and
Bill turned to face the advancing mob.  He was dully unsurprised to see his
brothers and his mother in the front ranks, their features distorted in
anger and hatred.  (If only I could speak,) he thought despairingly.  (If only I
could explain.  I could stop this.  I know I could!)

<<But it was not to be.  Try as he might, he remained unable to utter a
word; not a single syllable; not even an inarticulate cry of defiance.  The mob
now was only a few feet away, and Bill knew that it could not be more than
another moment or two before he would be overwhelmed, and Dana would be
lost.  Lost.  Frantically, he searched the faces of his attackers, looking
in vain for any slightest hint of humanity and compassion.

<<Finally, he realized that all was lost.  There was only one means left to
him by which he might save his sister, and perhaps himself.  With grim
determination, his hand fell upon the sword at his hip, and he drew it
smoothly from its scabbard.

<<Normally, the ceremonial swords worn by officers of the U.S. Navy are
blunted, their edges dulled to minimize the chance of accidental injury.
Bill saw immediately that this one, however, was razor sharp.  A hiss of
anger rose from the mob as he flourished the sword, and Bill knew that only
seconds remained.

<<Hastily, in the ultimate moral agony, he turned to the lessons of his
childhood:  (Oh Lord, my God, I am heartily sorry that I have offended
Thee!)  And with that, tears welling up in his eyes, he turned to his
sister (Dana -- forgive me!) and drove the point of the sword directly into her
heart.>>



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