|Life with My Girl, Reyes|
|These Dreams - Chapter 3|
|Home | Scully & Reyes at Work | About Gish/Reyes | About Scully/Anderson | SRR Artwork | SRR Photo Album | SRR LoveSongs/Music | Stories by MyGirlReyes | Send A Card | Awards/Codes | Contact Me|
Still in Monica's Bed Three Hours Later:
"God," Monica rolled over again taking the little redhead right along with her. "I can't believe it's after two and we're still in bed," she said glancing at the clock.
"Um, yes, but that quick lunch was quite satisfying."
Monica smirked. "Are you talking about me, or the gumbo?"
"Both," Dana chuckled snuggling in against her.
"So you liked the shrimp?"
"Oh yes, Cajun style. I like everything Cajun style, especially my lover's hot little—"
"Gosh, I'm never really quite sure what you're going to say."
Dana chuckled. "But whatever it is, it'll embarrass you?"
"Mmm, something like that," she smiled.
"And why is that? Why should anything I say about your scrumptious body, your delectable—?"
"Or your edible—?"
The redhead laughed. She did have a wicked little tongue and foul mouth when it came to Monica's voluptuous physique and sexual escapades in general.
"It's just that, you hide it so well. No one would ever believe me if I repeated some of the things you have said to me during sex, before sex, moments after sex, my gosh!"
Dana chuckled again. "Are you suggesting that you might need to file an official complaint?"
"No. It's just that—"
"I don’t know. You just amaze me sometimes, I guess. You present yourself to the world as this quiet, studious, rather shy and aloof, hard-working, determined, by-the-book, quite meticulous, and assiduous intellect, all-consumed by her job, with only the slightest hint of a sense of humor—which I find unequivocally irresistible, by the way—when in fact, you're actually quite the opposite; at least when we're together and we're alone."
"And you find this to be a bad thing?" Dana teased cocking an eyebrow.
"No, it's what attracted me to you. And I love knowing that I am privy to another side of you—the aspiring and ambitious intellectual, Dana Scully. Privy to another side that no one else gets to see."
"Oh my, my," Dana chuckled.
"But, I will say this. You did frustrate the absolute total hell out of me up there on that mountaintop the other morning."
"I did? Why?" She chuckled again.
"Because! Gosh, Dana! You were so brusque, standoffish, and—"
"Yes! Rude. And so closed-up, and determined to not let anyone in. And it frustrated the absolute total hell out of me."
"Oooh, baby, why?"
"Because I knew that you were about to, that there was this vulnerable side of you, that was about to—"
"Oh, okay. Let's not talk about it right now. Do you mind?"
"Hah." Monica silenced her observations and just watched her for a few seconds. …Good gosh!... For Dana Scully to admit that she might be a little vulnerable on occasion.
Dana smirked. "Look. I acted that way for a reason, all right? I had to. I had no other choice."
Monica continued to watch her.
Monica continued to watch her.
"And I—Well?—I was attracted to you, okay? As soon as I saw you."
"Really?" the brunette grinned.
"Yes. Really. God! I was so—I could hardly breathe standing that close to you."
"Yes. And when you came into my room that night, the night that I had that vision of Mulder?"
"I—My God! I wanted to—My God! It took everything in me to not just—"
"Whoa. Really?" Monica's eyes shot to the ceiling.
"Yes! I wanted to fuck you, Monica Reyes, right then, right there."
"Well, my goodness, I—"
"Yes! You were driving me insane! I could hardly breathe! And I knew that you had no idea. I knew that you were straight, and had no idea how—my gosh! I was so—ohhh! And when you put your arms around me? My God! I thought I was going to lose it right there, and kiss you. My God! I wanted to kiss you so bad. All I could think about was kissing you, tasting you, and tasting your lips, and—"
"Yes! I—I wanted you. I wanted you so badly. And I wanted you to want me," she blurted out. …Oh my God, I can’t believe I just told you that…
"Well, gosh, I had no idea."
"And if you had kissed me right then, I'm not sure how I would have reacted. I—Gosh! I'm not sure. And I had no idea that you were feeling that way while I was holding you. I—Wow! How the hell did I miss that?"
Dana chuckled. "Because I am very meticulous—as you say—at concealing that part of myself. I've done it for years. Had to."
Monica nodded. She could understand that.
"Most think I'm asexual, having no sex at all, and probably haven't had since college."
Monica sat for a moment, silent, then guffawed with laughter. "Oh wow! How wrong most can be," she laughed.
Dana laughed, too. "Indeed. And I'm very good at it. I'm very thorough with concealing most things about myself. I know that. I realize that. It's quite deliberate. And I’m very proud of it. And I also realize that I keep people at a very distinct, comfortable distance from myself. I've purposefully practiced that for years."
Monica nodded again. She could understand that, too. Dana was a very private person. She was not one to share herself with most anyone, much less the world in general.
"Mon? Listen. You bring out the best in me, things I have kept well-hidden for years, okay?"
…Ohhh… The brunette's heart skipped a beat.
"And I feel safe, very safe, when I'm with you. And I feel loved, very loved—genuinely—when I'm with you."
"Ohhh," the brunette's heart skipped another beat.
"And so maybe you do see more of me than I typically present to the world, but, it's because I—I—Gosh, I'm not even quite sure myself as to why, but—"
Monica's eyes had watered up.
"Oh baby no, don’t cry, but I wanted you to know that, that you've given me back my life, in just a week, a little over a week, okay? And—whew." She had to hesitate herself to regain control of her own raging emotions.
Monica felt a tear begin to trickle down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away then wiped a stray tear from the little redhead's cheek as well. "Well gosh. I don’t know what to say, except that you leave me without words at times, and then I am at a loss. And then, the only thing I know to do is show you, and touch you, and let you taste me, and listen to my heartbeat, when it's about to beat out of my chest, every time I'm near you. I've never loved anyone quite like this before. But then I've told you that already. I only hope that you'll believe me when I say it. Because I have no other way of proving it to you, except through my actions. And, as the old saying goes, 'Actions speak louder than words', so—" she shrugged.
Dana grinned. "So you could kiss me right now."
"Ah, yes," the brunette chuckled then moved in for another kiss.
They kissed for several minutes, gently probing and tasting each other's lips, gently suckling and tugging on each other's lower lips and then the upper. Then gently sucking on each other's tongues, dancing and probing inside of each other's mouths, one taking the lead then surrendering, as the other then took the lead then surrendered, back and forth, back and forth, one and then the other, allowing each other to dominate then surrender, dominate then surrender, dominate then surrender.
It was a playful little game of power and submission they played, neither wanting to dominate the other exclusively, but share in the playful little game. And both were such good kissers, too. They both knew exactly how to send sizzling electrical bolts of arousal straight down to each other's very centers with their gentle and probing kisses.
"Mmm, my God," Dana moaned.
They both were beginning to breathe more heavily as their mutual kisses ignited the slow ambers still burning inside. It wouldn't take much to send them both over the edge, ready for a little more hands-on lovemaking, and not just these gentle and easy little probings with their tongues.
"Mmm, Monica," Dana moaned again as Monica slid her tongue back inside, gently probing, sliding and circling the warm, wet chamber of Dana's mouth, then suckling on her lower lip again. "Mmm, baby," she whimpered, feeling that tingling sensation beginning to take over her very center. "Mmm, God Moni."
"Hum?" Monica grinned then began to slow her kisses and suckles, pressing her lower body in even more firmly against the redhead's crotch, ultimately pressing her mound in against her clit.
"Mmm, oh baby, my God, you're making me want you. Mmm, and I don't know how much more of this I can take," she panted.
"Want me to stop?"
"Umum." The little redhead's entrance and clitoris were tingling so hungrily with arousal.
Monica then slid down and lightly kissed one of her swelling breasts, then tugged and suckled on a nipple for a few seconds before sliding down a little farther. They each had redressed, as Dana had slipped on another pair of Monica's sweatpants. But her chest and breasts were still bare, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Monica then slid down a little farther, just below her navel, then gently suckled and kissed, licked and circled her abdomen, easing her waistband out of the way, until the little redhead's soft, fine curls were partially in view. "Mmm, baby, I love your curls. They're so soft, so fine, like a baby's hair," she breathed, tickling the little redhead's abdomen, as she eased her hand down a little farther, then gently combed her fingers through those soft, fine, baby-like curls.
"Oh God," the little redhead moaned grabbing onto the sides of her head. "Oh! Moni." Her hips bucked up to meet her lover's hand. "Mmm." Was she going to make love to her again, or just tease her? Make love to her, or just play with her? Make love to her, or just caress her? Sliding her hand down, and then gently combing her fingers through her curls again. "Oh God." Whatever she was going to do, she was driving her insane right now while she did it.
The brunette then eased her hand down a little farther and hugged her entrance with her palm.
"Oh my God." The little redhead was so aroused. She pressed her entrance in against the brunette's hand silently giving her permission to enter her if she wanted.
"Mmm, Dana," Monica moaned. She could actually feel the redhead's strong, rapid heartbeat throbbing against her hand, that strong and steady pulse pulsating through her clit. "Mmm, baby, I think I'm gonna wait for now, okay? We don’t have enough time for me to make love to you the way I want," she smiled, arching an eyebrow, then gently removed her hand from the little redhead's pulsating crotch, sliding it back up over her womb.
"Huh? But, Moni?"
"Shhh, no baby, besides, I need to talk to this little guy for a few minutes, okay? I haven’t been giving him the attention he deserves," she said as she eased down and began to kiss the redhead's abdomen, just above her unborn son.
"Huh? Well. I—Mmm," Dana moaned just as her little unborn son kicked. "Oh!" she jumped. "My gosh."
Monica chuckled. "Hey there sweet baby. You're mummy's feeling really good right now."
"Hah. You've got that right," Dana quipped. Oh yeah. She was feeling really, really, really good. But her son was getting all of her lover's attention right now. Oh well. Her time would come again.
"Have you named him yet?"
"Hum?" Dana grunted running her fingers through her dark, wavy hair.
"Have you named him?"
"Oh. Yes. William. After my father."
"William. Ohhh, sweet William. That is such a pretty name for this little man," she cooed gently kissing the area just above his head.
They both felt another swift little kick.
"Oop," they both cooed then giggled. And then he must have decided to do a little belly-dance. Because Dana began to giggle at all of the baby-movements she began to feel happening inside her belly.
"What? What's he doing?"
"Playing, dancing, doing summersaults, I don’t know, but he's very active."
"Ohhh," Monica cooed again then rested her cheek just above his temporary home, and then began to talk to him again, using a very low, soft and gentle voice, telling him about his mother, and about this great big world of his that he would soon be entering; and how that he was exactly where he needed to be for right now though—safe and secure inside his mother's womb—and that when he was ready, he could come out and meet this great big world of his.
Dana smiled, her heart doing summersaults as well, as she listened to her lover's gentle words whispering specifically to her son. She continued to comb her fingers through the brunette's dark, raven hair as she listened to the one-sided conversation. Although she wasn't quite sure how one-sided the conversation actually was, as she continued to feel her little son's movements, and even quite possibly his tight little fist moving across the wall of her womb, in response to Monica's whispers. It was as if he knew that the soft, gentle and soothing voice he was hearing was meant especially for him. Maybe it was only wishful thinking on her part. But then maybe not. Either way, it was a very nice idea to contemplate indeed.
Monica moved her palm directly over the area where they were both feeling the most activity from his subtle movements. "Oh William. Sweet baby William. That is your name, baby boy. Oh yes. That is your given name. Your mummy has chosen it especially for you, sweet baby. In honor of your grandpa. Yes. And I think I'm going to start calling you that from now on, okay? If your mummy will let me," she said glancing up to Dana for a little motherly approval.
Dana grinned nodding and winking in approval.
"Oooh, baby, she said 'yes'! So what do you think about that, sweet William?" she cooed again as she felt another swift little poke and swoosh against her palm. "Ohhh," she began to laugh.
Dana laughed, too, as she felt that same subtle, but quite responsive, little sensation as well—even better than Monica had, obviously. For he was inside of her. "Mmm, I swear some times, I think he understands you."
"You think?" Monica giggled.
"Mmm, probably wishful thinking on my part, but don't go telling anyone that I've already named him, okay? Nobody even knows it's a boy. Much less that I've already named him."
"Okay. Did you tell your mum?" Monica glanced up again as she gently rubbed her palm across the same area again.
He had kicked again. They both chuckled.
"And she was elated. Surprised, but elated."
"Um, I knew she would be. Who wouldn't be, you carrying this beautiful little man-child inside of you?"
"Hum," Dana sighed happily. "But what if it were a girl?"
"A girl? All the better. Girl or boy. I don't care. It wouldn't matter to me. I'd love your baby either way."
"Oh gosh, come back up here, and let me kiss you."
Monica giggled then moved up to let her kiss her again.
They kissed for several more seconds.
"Mmm, God, Monica, I think you've shown me quite well, how much you love me, and my son. I think I need to leave you speechless more often."
Monica giggled again then glanced up at the clock. "Oooh wow, gosh baby. We probably need to get up, and get cleaned up."
"Because I've got some dinner reservations set for us at five. And it takes about forty minutes to drive there, so—"
"Oh. Okay. Well, let's get up. We're getting up right now, as we speak," the redhead said as she let go of her and then began to sit up in the bed.
"Okay. Gosh, I can’t believe we have spent all day in bed," the brunette laughed again.
Dana laughed too then glanced at the clock herself. "Well, it's not quite a quarter 'til. We'll need to leave a little after four?"
"Okay, good. That gives me enough time to ask you about something else."
"Uh-oh. Oh my God, now what?" The brunette cocked an eyebrow. "We've already talked about female ejaculation and you jacking me off some time later. So now what? Strap-ons?"
…Strap-ons? Oh yes, indeedy… Dana widened her eyes in gleeful anticipation then laughed. "Nooo. But that could make for an engaging conversation."
"Oh my God. Holy shit," Monica replied shaking her head. …Strap-ons. My woman is into strap-ons… She chuckled. She had never tried them, but then she was open to the idea—not surprisingly—with all the male, in-the-flesh hard-ons she had experienced in her life.
Dana continued to laugh until her tummy almost hurt from her giggles. "Oh my. You can make me laugh so hard. Anyway. Nooo. I wanted to ask you about something else," she said as she pulled the pretty little light blue touchstone that Monica had given her last week out of her sweatpants pocket.
"Oh," Monica chirped. "What do you want to know?"
"Well. You told me that your grandmother had given it to you, correct?"
"And that it had been yours for a very long time, and that you had carried it around with you for many years."
"And that your Grams had given it to you when you were just a little girl, correct?"
"And then, well, you left it inside my coat pocket last week," Dana giggled. "With a note. And, oh gosh Moni, that was so, you have no idea what that did for me, your love-note, and this touchstone."
Monica smiled, double-winking at her, then leaned back against the headboard. "Well. I'd say that about covers it. What else do you want to know?"
"Yes, I want to know all the pertinent details surrounding this little stone."
"Ahh," Monica glanced at the clock again. "Hum. Well. Okay. I think we've got enough time for me to tell you the story."
"Umhum. It's a family legend, a tradition, on my mother's side."
"Umhum. And it's very special."
"Umhum. Very. Come here, and I'll tell you," she said as she reached over and then pulled the little redhead in next to her.
Dana smiled happily then quickly snuggled in.
"Okay. Let me see it for a minute."
Dana smiled handing it to her.
Monica then held it in her hand for a few seconds, rubbing her thumb across it and tumbling it inside her palm. "First. I need to ask you: Do you believe in soulmates?"
"Umhum. What is your position on the possibility of soulmates?" she asked as she finished rubbing and tumbling it around inside her palm, warming it, charming it, and imprinting it to her intuitive satisfaction, then handed it back to her.
"Hum. Soulmates," Dana repeated. "Whoa!" she jumped. "Wow! It's so warm and tingly!" Her eyes were wide with wonder looking at Monica.
Monica just shrugged then chuckled double-winking at her again.
Yes. It was very warm and tingly. And Monica knew why. She had just purified it, charmed it, and further imprinted it yet again, with a little more of herself and her supernatural abilities, enamoring it with more of her undying love, strength, endurance and protection for the little redhead. Dana would always be carrying a part of her around with her—a part of Monica's very soul—and her undying love, strength, endurance and protection with her, when the little redhead might need some, to help her make it through the most difficult times that lie ahead in her life.
Dana would probably never know. But then Monica might tell her—at least part of the family legend, passed down from generation to generation—since she had asked. Hopefully it would not frighten the little redhead, but help her to feel more safe, strong, loved, capable and calm through the hard times. That was all that Monica wanted. To share more of her enduring love, strength, endurance and protection with Dana, if and when she might need it.
"Hum," Dana sighed happily, then smiled at the smiling brunette, who was gazing into her eyes with the most alluringly devoted expression. …Oh Monica. Hum… Something about this little touchstone made her feel so loved, so wanted, so strong and capable, ready to conquer the world, yet so calm and peaceful, safe and secure, every single time she held it inside her palm. …Hum. I don’t know… She smiled again. She knew it had to do with Monica—somehow—and possibly Monica's somewhat extrasensory, extraordinary "gift". Somehow Monica had to have something to do with it. She was quite sure of that. …Hum… She leaned in and kissed her, then wrapped her fingers around the little stone, keeping it safe and secure in the palm of her hand.
Monica smiled then double-winked at her again. …Oh yes, my love. That's right. Hold it. Hold me right there, in the palm of your hand. Know that I am always with you, Dana, right there, in the palm of your hand… She smiled again then closed her eyes inhaling a deep breath. Her soul had already begun to feel the slight pull coming from the little stone as Dana held it close.
"Mmm," she exhaled, then opened her eyes looking at Dana again. …Oh God, yes… Dana was her soulmate. And now she was sure of it, beyond any shadow of a doubt. No one else could ever have that kind of physical and emotional effect on her, or that kind of physical and emotional reaction to her little personal touchstone, but Dana, her mate, her soulmate. It was prophesied, through the family legend. To anyone else that held it, it would be nothing more than a mere pebble, a simple touchstone, with no warm tingly sensations radiating from it. It was foretold, passed down from generation to generation, that the only one whom could feel such stirring vibrations radiating from deep inside the little stone would be one's forever soulmate. And Dana could feel it. She could actually feel it. And she had been able to feel it since the first time she had ever held it. She did not realize that she was actually feeling and experiencing some small part of Monica's very soul as she held it. But she could feel Monica's strength, power, love and protection surrounding her when she held it. And Monica did not have to pass it around to any other person now, to make sure that Dana was "the one", her one-and-only, her soulmate. It was prophetically meant for only one—her soulmate. And now, she was sure. Dana truly was her soulmate.
…Thank God… She closed her eyes again. She had waited and waited, and had remained patient and diligent, keeping it with her, and carrying it around with her everywhere she went, continually imprinting it, charming it, purifying it and strengthening it with her love, strength, guidance and protection, waiting to find the "right one", to give it to. And because of her patience, tenacity and diligence, she had not made some of the earlier mistakes that some of her earlier ancestors had made, giving it to the wrong person, in haste, and not realizing that the person was not the right one—their soulmate—until it was too late. And then having to go through many, many difficult times to get it back, then cleanse it from their error, having to start over, charming it, purifying it and imprinting it yet again with their love, endurance, protection and devotion for the right one, their love-mate.
It could be so sad, so difficult and heartbreaking, to not find the right one. And then to live that life out all alone, just wandering around all over this earth, with no real sense of purpose, direction or true love in one's life. Some of her ancestors had experienced that, too. And it had been so heartbreaking for them. How could she have been so lucky to get it right the first time? And find her true love on the very first attempt, giving Dana her touchstone? …Wow. Thank the Gods above… She smiled again, so happy and relieved with her heavenly discovery. Now. She may not tell Dana the whole truth about the little touchstone. But then she might. But then maybe not. It might be too much for Dana to comprehend and accept right now. If it was, then she would wait until the time was right to tell her the entire story. But right now she would just sit back, relax, and follow Dana's lead on how much the little redhead wanted to know. She had found her true love. And that was all that really mattered to her now. How blessed they both were. For Dana had found hers, too, whether she quite realized it yet or not.
"Hum. Well. Soulmates," Dana resumed the conversation. "Hum. Well. Monica? I'm not sure that I want to delve into that discussion right now."
…Oh. Yikes… Monica began to rethink her original plan of telling her about the family legend. …Frig… Maybe she should wait and not tell Dana anything at all about the family legend. "I um, but why?" she asked anyway, innately hopeful.
"Because, Mulder and I—" the redhead hesitated. …Oh God… A flood of emotions began to wash over her.
…Whoa… Monica could feel the profound sadness beginning to invade the redhead's heart. They lay there for several moments in silence. "Dana? What is it?" She could take it no longer. "Why did my question upset you so?"
"Oh Monica," Dana rolled in and squeezed her tight burying her head in against her chest. "I—Gosh I, because, Mulder and I, we worked on a case one time, and—Whew."
"Yeah?" Monica encouraged her as she began to massage the redhead's shoulder-blades.
"I um, Mulder. He met his soulmate, on that case."
…Whoa. Holy shit… Monica's lower lip dropped. "Are you sure?"
"But—wow! His mate. His love-mate. His true-love, mated for life?" Monica analyzed, wanting to make sure that they were both on the same page, indicating the very same type of intense, extraordinarily strong, unbreakable bond between two souls in love.
"Yes. I believe that he did," Dana verified.
"Oh wow," Monica was astounded. "And this upset you—"
"No, oh no, not really, not him finding her, meeting her, but—Oh Monica," she breathed again grabbing onto the brunette and holding onto her tight. "God, just hold me, okay? I need you to hold me for a few minutes."
…Oh wow… Monica's heart skipped a beat. "Okay, of course honey, I can do that," she said instantly wrapping her arms more securely around her. They lay there for several moments in silence. "Dana? What happened?" She could take it no longer, then rolled them both over to their sides, ultimately facing each other.
Dana gazed into her dark brown eyes. "I um—He—We met a woman. A young woman, by the name of M, Melissa Riedel," she stammered on the name.
"Okay," Monica encouraged.
"And—" …God!... What were the odds of that young woman having the same first name as her older sister's. "And she," she stuttered again. "I—Originally. I thought that she might be suffering from a multiple personality."
"Okay," Monica nodded, "Dissociative identity disorder," she said quite familiar with the medical term used for the condition.
"Yes. Correct. But in the psychiatric community some still don't believe that it even exists."
"Right. But you do."
"Yes, I do. I do believe in the phenomena. I believe that it is rare. But I do believe in the phenomena, that it exists."
Monica nodded again. She did, too.
"But not in this case."
"Okay," Monica replied then clasped hands with her, pulling her hand in close to her heart.
Dana grinned in response to the loving gesture. "And um, so, Melissa—I had reasoned, through our second interview—had what appeared to be three, maybe four, distinct personalities."
"Wow. Four?" Monica's eyes widened.
"Yes. I deduced four. But Mulder wasn't convinced. He believed that she was being invaded by possibly two, maybe three different past-life incarnations."
…Whoa. Wow!… Monica's eyes widened yet again. "Incarnations?" …Holy shit!… "But you didn't."
"No. I didn’t. Not at first. But Mulder arranged for a therapist, trained in hypnosis, to work with her, against my better judgment and medical recommendation."
"For a past-life regression."
"Yes, correct. But I was so sure that she was suffering from a dissociative disorder, that I—Gosh, I—I was concerned that it might send her into a tailspin, induce her into a suicidal breakdown, if we put her through something like that. But Mulder—My God, Monica. He was experiencing fleeting recollections himself!"
…Whoa! Holy shit!… Monica's eyes widened yet again. …Jeez!… "So were they actual incarnations? Or simply fleeting recollections?"
"I um. Memories. Visions. Intermittent recollections."
Monica nodded again. "And you were sure about this."
"What made you so sure?"
"Hah," Dana smirked. …All right, Mulder… She could almost chuckle at the similarity. "Because, that night, when Melissa underwent her hypnosis—" she paused.
"Yeah?" Monica encouraged her yet again, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Oh Moni," Dana whimpered, leaning in and burying her head in against her chest again.
…Whoa… "What? Dana?" Monica wrinkled her brow. …What in the world?... She quickly let go of her hand and wrapped her arms around her.
The pained redhead buried her head in even closer. She really did not want to talk about it right now. Mainly, because she had tried, for years, to forget about everything that had happened that night. Mulder's recollections, and her lack of any real recollection, were all much too painful for her to reminisce about right now. Especially with Monica, some four years later. But she guessed that she would go ahead with the story, and tell Monica everything. After all, she was the one that had mentioned the case in the first place.
"Well, honey? What—? Why are you so upset?" Monica asked again squeezing her tight. "I would think that—"
"Shhh, I'll tell you, it's just that, I have tried very hard over the years to forget about everything that happened that night, all right?"
"Okay, but why?"
"Because I—oh Christ."
"Dana? What? Why did—? Did it upset you to find out that you were not Mulder's soulmate? His chosen? His love-mate?" she asked leaning back out so she could make eye-contact again.
"Oh no, no, not at all, I—No. That did not surprise me at all. I would have expected that. Some part of me had already known that for years. So no, I would have anticipated that."
"Oh. Okay." …Whew. Thank God… Well then, what?" she asked again relieved.
"I—Oh for Crissakes. Just let me start at the beginning, okay?"
"Okay," Monica replied then cupped her face and stroked her cheek with a thumb.
"I um—Well. We had been placed on assignment, near Chattanooga, Tennessee, to help on a raid, with the BATF, in search of illegal weapons, possible illegal chemicals, claims of child abuse, within the specific group compound, and the possibility of paranormal activities: channeling, astral projection—" she hesitated for a moment, wondering how those last two activities might sound to her keenly intuitive, if not arguably, telepathic, psychically-gifted lover.
"Oooh, bad," Monica replied. …Well, maybe not all bad… She repressed a smirk. Those last two activities, of the paranormal variety, were not necessarily bad, depending on who was involved in such paranormal activity: namely herself, on occasion. …Hum… She made an effort to repress a second smirk.
Dana cocked an eyebrow, observing that second slightly-repressed smirk.
Monica grinned, caught. "Okay, go on," she snickered.
Dana chuckled, too, then smirked herself. "So, while on the first raid, Mulder and I met Ms. Riedal. And Mulder had some type of unexplainable, instantaneous obsession—well, that might not be the appropriate term, but there was something about the young woman that drew him to her."
"And later that night, she underwent the hypnosis—again against my better judgment and medical recommendation. And three distinct personalities resurfaced, one in particular named Sidney, that we needed to question, in reference to the possible child abuse allegations and a hidden stockpile of illegal weapons located somewhere near the compound, that we had yet to locate."
Monica nodded again.
"But the third personality—when she resurfaced, it—wow."
"She—I'll never forget this, Moni—but when she looked at Mulder, she appeared to have recognized him, and then she reached out her hand to him, telling him that his 'eyes may have changed shade', but that the shade would never 'color the soul that was behind them'."
"Ohhh. Wow. Excellent," Monica gasped.
"Yes. And then she said, 'We have come together in this life, this time, only to meet in passing'—"
"Oh, my God," Monica gasped again. Now that hurt.
"Yes. And then she placed her hand over her heart—" Dana stammered herself with sadness. "And then she started to cry, telling him that, she missed him—"
"Ohhh. Dana." Monica's eyes watered up. …Oh my God... Now that really hurt.
"Yes. And that it was so hard for her—simply heartbreaking—to wait for him."
"Ohhh. Jesus!" Monica gasped again. Now that really hurt. Her heart was beginning to really ache, horribly.
"Yes. And Moni? Christ." Dana gazed into her eyes. "I—What I did? It was—deplorable. Because I—I didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe her, Moni, and I—Because I thought that she was making it up. I swear I thought that she was making it up! To deliberately throw Mulder and myself off the—ohhh," she paused. "Oh baby." Her heart skipped a beat. "My gosh, look at you, you're so sensitive," she said leaning in and cupping her wet cheek. …Oh sweetheart, look at you, crying over this. Ohhh, you are so sweet, gentle and tenderhearted…
Monica was sniffling softly. Yes. She was actually crying and shedding a few tears over the story, feeling the pain and heartache inside her heart for this woman named Melissa and Mulder. It was true. She was extremely sensitive to another's pain. Even if she did not know them, she was still very sensitive to another's pain and heartache. And her heart was aching horribly for Agent Mulder and this other woman named Melissa—two people whom she had never even met. And Dana had not even finished the story yet.
"Oh God, Moni, I love you," Dana breathed, suddenly overcome with emotion, and realizing that now more than ever. "Jesus, you're so, how could I be so lucky?"
Monica sniffled, wiping a couple of more stray tears away, then chuckled softly. "Well, I don’t know about the 'lucky' part, but this story is really wigging me out," she said wiping another tear away.
"Um," Dana chuckled, lightening the mood.
"But Dana? Why did you not believe her?" she said, wrinkling her brow.
"I um, well. Stubbornness on my part, I guess."
"Hah. Dana? Frig."
"I know, I should have, remembering back," she agreed. And yes. She should have. She should have at least believed in Mulder, her own partner at the time, if not this woman. But she hadn't.
"But Dana? Shit," Monica huffed. …For Godsakes… The acknowledgement of this unwarranted spiritual skepticism really frustrated her—this highly sixth-sensed, extrasensory-skilled, spiritually-minded, sometimes arguably-telepathic brunette. "Was it too transcendental, or otherworldly, for your analytical mind to wrap around?"
"Um. Yeah. I guess. Maybe," Dana shrugged again.
"Oh Dana. Shit." She wiped another tear. "Shit," she fussed. …Dana? Shit… She was so frustrated, not only for this other woman and Agent Mulder, but for herself as well. Nothing about this story so far, seemed to be too farfetched or otherworldly to her. It was fascinating—simply mind-boggling—and yet so inspiring, to know that someone might, on occasion, actually experience fleeting memories from one's past-lives, even if those fleeting memories were quite sad. At least it verified that those fleeting memories and images had actually taken place, and were not just some wild, flamboyant figment of one's imagination. "So what happened next?" she asked, sniffling a little bit, then settling in for the rest of the story.
"Well. Mulder decided to undergo a past-life regression himself, that very night."
"Really? Good for him," she stated matter-of-factly.
"Hah," Dana huffed herself. …All right, Mulder… she mused. "Well. Maybe. Maybe not. Because during his regression, things came out that were almost inconceivable to me; and yet—oh God," she hesitated again.
Monica cocked an eyebrow.
"I—Christ! I had such a hard time believing it. Any of it!"
"But why?" The brunette clasped her hand yet again.
"Because! I—I didn't—I couldn't—Damn! It hurt him! It devastated him, Moni! And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it! And I didn’t want to see him go through that! Okay?!"
"Oh shhh, yes baby, okay, I understand," Monica soothed rolling in and pulling her into her arms again. "Shhh, yes, I understand, I do, really, I do," she whispered, kissing her on the crown. And she really did. "And I am so sorry that you and Agent Mulder had to go through that, okay?"
Dana nodded, holding onto her tight and allowing her warm embrace and whispers to calm her soul yet again.
"Shhh, it's okay." She continued to whisper comfortingly to her.
And the highly sensitive brunette did understand that. It had to have been very difficult for Dana, to not be able to do a thing but stand by and watch, as her best friend suffered through so much emotional pain. She understood that kind of feeling of utter helplessness, quite well. She had gone through a similar situation with John Doggett, when he had lost his only child. So she understood the great burden it placed on one's shoulders, when at a loss as to how to relieve someone else that you love of that kind of deep depression, pain and sorrow. It was a very hard road to travel, when one loved one's friends as much as she and Dana did. They both were very loyal and true to their two best friends, John Doggett and Fox Mulder. And both men had suffered great losses in their lives. But then so had they—more than either had even come to realize quite yet.
"He—Mon? He remembered the Concentration Camps, Poland, World War II, Hitler, the Gestapo, and he and his family being pulled away from each other towards the trains."
"Oh my God. He was Jewish." Monica felt nauseous.
"Yes, a Jewish woman, out of Poland. And Melissa was his husband. And his sister his son. And Melissa was being pulled away from him, to be taken to another camp."
"Ohhh, Christ." Monica began to feel the nauseating acid building up inside her stomach.
"And—oh God Monica, it was so heartbreaking to watch. So—ohhh! I wanted to—I couldn't—I wanted to scream!"
…Jesus… Monica closed her eyes, forcing back the acute nausea stirring around inside her gut. …Oh sweet Jesus. The Camps, the Death Camps. Sweet Jesus, Lord God Almighty… "Oh Dana," she whimpered. "I—Christ, I understand now, why you've tried so hard to forget. I—Maybe we shouldn't talk about it—"
"No. I think we should. I think I need to. Because there's more," Dana said resting her forehead in against the brunette's.
"Oh honey. I'm not sure that I want to hear more."
"Um, I think you might. It involves me."
"What?" Monica gasped, gazing into her eyes. …Oh Dana, no. No, no, no. Please, don’t tell me. No. Not you, too…
"Yes. Mulder remembered me, too. As his father. Dead, in the street."
"What?! Oh Christ! Dana?" Monica gasped yet again. "As his father?!"
"Yes. As his father. I was his father. Dead. In the street."
"Oh my God. Dana? Did you remember it? Any of it?"
"No. Only Mulder. And then some part of him regressed back even further into another life. Earlier. Almost eighty years earlier, happening some time during the Civil War."
"The Civil War? Holy Christ!" Monica gasped again. …No! No, no, no!…
"Yes. In 1863. Some time in and around November 26th, 1863."
…What? The 26th? November 26th? No! No, no, no!... Monica's heart tightened inside her chest. …Oh my God, no! It can’t be!… She stared into Dana's eyes. "In the Fall of November? 1863?" she repeated wanting to be sure of the date.
"Yes. Fall of '63. And Mulder could see himself dead, in that same field surrounding the area where our raid had taken place."
"Oh nooo," Monica groaned. …No. No, no, no… Her heart tightened yet again inside her chest.
"Yes. And I think that might have been the catalyst that triggered his memories, his past-life recollections, as well as Melissa's."
"Of course, that would make sense," Monica mumbled under her breath, trying so hard to remain calm, as her heart flipped, flopped and fluttered yet again inside her chest. …Ohhh, sweet Jesus. Nooo. It can’t be... Her chest was really beginning to ache badly now.
"And he remembered wishing that, he could tell her not to worry I guess, because they would be together again, one day, in a future life. But that, in the mean time, he would wait for her—"
…Oh Christ!... Monica placed her palm over her tightening chest for a moment, trying to calm her aching heart. …Oh no! Christ! Jesus Christ! Please!... Her tight chest was really beginning to hurt, and feel as if there were a vise-grip wrapped around her rapidly beating heart, squeezing it tighter and tighter, trying to squeeze the very life out of her. …Oh! Christ! Please!... She sucked in another deep breath and held it for a few seconds, forcing herself to remain calm, and push the painful sensations away.
"And I—according to Mulder's regression—I was in that field, too."
…Nooo! Nooo! No, no, no! Nooo! I know! IknowIknowIknow! Somehow I know!… Monica's heart began to flip, flutter and slam—hard—against her chest wall. …Ohhh! Dana, nooo!... Her chest was really hurting now. And if she didn’t know better, she'd think she were having a heart attack. …Oh God! Stay calm, stay calm, I've got to stay calm... She sucked in another deep breath then slowly exhaled. "I um—And you were there, too?" she stated calmly, as she successfully hid the inner pain and turmoil raging inside her heart.
"Yes, in that life, too. I was his command—"
"Commanding officer," Monica muttered answering the question for her.
"I um—Yes." …Wow… Dana cocked an eyebrow.
Monica's eyes had watered up, reeling with emotion. …Oh no! No, no, no! Oh my God! No! Dana? No! It can’t be! It can't be! It can't, it can't, it can't! Or can it? Could it? My God! Could it be?... She reconsidered, as she looked back up and gazed into the redhead's eyes more intently, beginning to search into the very depths of her soul for the possibility. …Oh Dana, my God! Are you—? Could you be? My God! Could you be Devin? Oh God! I think, you might. My God! I think you are. Are you my Devin?... She continued to gaze into the little redhead's eyes, considering the possibility, as she searched even deeper into the depths of her very soul for the answer.
Dana watched her closely then began to resume the conversation. "I um, yes. And I was his commanding officer. His—"
"Sergeant," the anguished brunette muttered again, answering correctly, then broke the intimate eye-contact and looked away.
"I um, yes," Dana mumbled herself intrigued. She then furrowed her brow. Now how in the heck could Monica have known that?
…Oh my God!... Monica had recognized him. …My gosh! Christ! You are! You are! You're Devin! You're my sweet Devin!... She had recognized him—her lover, Sergeant Devin Brody McFadden—hidden behind those piercing blue eyes of Dana's, one of her wildly, adventurous heroic lovers from some of her wildly, imaginative dreams.
"With the Rebs, the Confederates," she answered correctly again.
…Whoa!… "Um. Yes," Dana cocked an eyebrow yet again. Now how in the hell could she have known that, too? "I um, yes. I would assume so. Although I find that hard to—" she paused. …Whoa. Monica?... She instantly reached up and cupped her cheek.
Suddenly the brunette was very pale.
…Baby? What in the world?… "Moni?" Dana said, beginning to grow concerned that she might possibly pass out, right then, right there, in the bed with her. "Moni?" she said again, "Look at me," as her medical doctor training began to kick in. …What in the hell is going on with you?...
"I um. Did—Did Mulder, ever mention any names?" the brunette stuttered. …Calm down, calm down, just calm down. You have got to calm down… she reminded herself.
"Um, yes. Mulder had been a young Confederate soldier named Biddle, Sullivan Biddle. And Melissa had been a young nurse, named Sarah. Sarah Kavanaugh."
…Oh my God… Monica breathed deeply yet again, trying her damnedest to remain calm and slow her rapidly beating heart back down, as it slammed so painfully hard against her chest wall. …Jeezus!... "And um, so this—this field that you mentioned—"
"In east Tennessee, near—"
"—Missionary Ridge," they both said the historical location together.
"Yes! Missionary Ridge," Dana cocked an eyebrow yet again, watching her closely. …Holy crap. Now how in the hell could you have known that, too? What in the hell is going on here?... She began to study the brunette's subtle, yet somewhat disturbing behavior more intently. "I um, near Chat—"
"Chattanooga, Tennessee. North Georgia. West Chickamauga Creek. Lookout Mountain. The Tennessee River," Monica rambled.
…Whoa. Holy crap!… "I um. Yes." Dana furrowed her brow yet again. …How in the—? What the—? How in the hell could you have known that? Shit!... Her heart fluttered inside her chest. "Um, Monica? What is going on here? You're beginning to alarm me," she said growing more concerned with each passing second.
"Oh no. No, my love," Monica whispered, barely audible, then glanced back up, making eye-contact. She then barely smiled through her tear-filled eyes. "Oh no, love, don't be frightened. I'm jus—remembering—" she mumbled again, almost incoherently, as she gazed into her lover's eyes then reached up and caressed her cheek.
…Remembering? Remembering what? What the—?... Dana furrowed her brow. …What in the hell is going on here? What are you talking about?... She mused, then began to watch her more closely, as the medical doctor in her fully kicked in. Monica's words and unusual behavior were really beginning to concern the medical doctor in her.
Monica then smiled again, ever so tenderly, as she gazed into her eyes. …Oh God yes, my Dana, my Devin, you're my Devin, I've been waiting for you for years, to come back to me. In all my dreams, I wait for you to return. Oh my God. And why didn’t I recognize it before now? Why didn’t I recognize you? You're my Devin, my Dana, my love. Oh baby, I've been waiting for you for years… She smiled again, reaching up and caressing Dana's cheek once more with her thumb. She had finally recognized her former lover's soul hidden behind those ocean-blue-eyes of hers as she then eased her hand back down and cupped her chin.
Dana just lay there quietly gazing into her eyes. Something about those dark chocolate brown eyes of Monica's could almost hypnotize her at times, as they were about to do right now, casting a spell on her, mesmerizing her, and causing some small part of her to want to reach down inside, and search out the truth—her truth—as well as Monica's, hidden deep down inside of those dark brown eyes.
…Oh Dana, my Dana, my Devin, my love… Monica continued to gaze into her eyes, with such an overwhelming expression of love, loyalty and devotion, Dana could hardly breathe. Her heart was beginning to beat more aggressively inside her chest, too. …Jesus… Something about that expression, and those deep, dark, sparkling brown eyes, was different. Just enough different for the redhead to notice, causing her to want to interrogate the brunette even further.
"Moni?" she tried again. "What's going on with you, hum? What's going on inside your head?" she said as she dropped the little touchstone down on the bed between them then reached up and clasped both her hands.
"Mm," Monica whimpered softly, slightly pulled from her past-life reverie for a few seconds, then squeezed her hands more affectionately.
Dana continued to gaze into her eyes, searching for something deep inside—something she was not quite sure of—but something that she knew she needed to be searching for, all the same.
Monica then let go of her hand, reached down and grabbed the little touchstone from off the bed. "Hum," she smiled, then closed her eyes for a few seconds, holding the little touchstone loosely in her palm, then kissed it, and then began to rub it again with her thumb and fingertips as she held it close to her heart.
Dana just watched, intrigued.
Monica had been dreaming about this particular past-life—this particular love story, involving herself and this very woman named Dana Scully, as a young man in her dreams named Devin McFadden—for years; since she had been a young teenager. She knew that these specific dreams had to have been occurring in and around the same timeframe, during the American Civil War, and during the late fall, early winter of 1863, as Dana had referred to the possibility of one of her own past-lives—thanks to Mulder's regression. She could almost guarantee it, because of the style dress she would always be wearing, the style enemy Confederate uniform Sgt. Devin McFadden would always be wearing, the surrounding area that they would always be located in, and the covert operation they would always be working together. Helping to find, place and relocate runaway slaves from their Southern oppressors, providing them with enough food, water, and provisions to carry them through, until her little band of freedom-fighters could guarantee them safe-passage to the North, and to ultimate freedom from their owners.
She and Devin worked on this noble mission together, hand-in-hand—he on the inside, infiltrated into the Confederate Army as a sergeant, while she remained on the outside, working in and around the surrounding towns and villages as a private citizen, involved in securing the secret locations, passages, trails and depots of the Underground Railroad—the Freedom Trails—that, nationwide, had helped thousands of escaped fugitives flee to the North. In every dream, they always met near a little mulberry tree, on a horse farm located somewhere halfway between Flintstone and McFarland Gap, Georgia, and then began to work this noble, covert operation together, rescuing, protecting and giving aide to hundreds of their African-American friends—their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers and children in their eyes—from their bondage and securing their safe-passage to the North.
"Mon?" Dana whispered softly, breaking once again into her past-life reverie.
"Hum, oh Dana, my Dana," the brunette mumbled softly as her eyes watered up yet again with unshed tears.
"Whoa, sweetheart?" Dana cupped her cheek once more in concern. "What in the world is going on with you? Hum? Won't you tell me?"
"I um—Mulder—Did he, ever say your name?"
"No. Never. And I never asked," she said, almost feeling some regret over that. But, she had never wanted to know. She had never been interested in that past-life—if it actually had been one of her past-lives—and if it actually did involve her fighting for the South, the absolutely totally, embarrassingly wrong side, in her opinion. …How in the hell could I have been a commander in the Confederate Army trying to maintain the status quo of legalized, sanctioned slavery? Jesus! That was so wrong. So wrong! So wrong!... she screamed inside her head. And she never wanted to know about it either, if it really were the truth—her truth—that she might have actually been fighting to maintain something so morally wrong. …Jesus!... That concept went against everything she had ever believed in. She could hardly fathom the possibility that she may have actually been a sergeant in the Confederate Army. It went against everything she believed in. That one fact had been part of the cause of why she had never really wanted to believe, or come to terms with, Mulder's past-life regression. She couldn’t live with the guilt of that. She couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that she had been an active participant in part of the wrong-doings from the past. It made no logical sense to her that she would have been an active participant in the Southern army in that war. …Jesus! I don’t want to know! I don’t want to know!... she screamed again inside her head. …Please! I don’t want to know!... And she never wanted to know, not if it were the truth—her truth—from part of her.
"But, Dana? Did he—? What else did he say, about his sergeant?" Monica asked, breathing in deeply, and trying to prepare herself for the worst.
"He saw me—his sergeant—dead, in that—"
"Oh no. Nonono," Monica rambled, clutching at her chest once more as her breathing began to come in short, shallow, little gasps.
…Whoa… "Monica?" Dana said again. …My God! What is going on with you?...
"Oh no. Nonono," she rambled again as tears began to roll down her cheeks. …No. No, no, no, Devin, my Devin, no, that's why you never came back, that's why. You were killed! Oh Devin, you couldn't, you couldn't, my God, you couldn't come back to me, ohhh, Devin, my sweet Dev… She began to sob—openly, painfully, sorrowfully.
…Whoa! What in the hell?... "Monica?" Dana gasped, instantly reaching over and grabbing onto her shoulders. "What in the hell is going on with you?" she said. Obviously, she could not understand Monica's outpouring of emotion, and where all of this gut-wrenching pain and sorrow was coming from. And yet a part of her could almost feel that same gut-wrenching pain and anguish, too, raging so painfully deep inside the brunette's heart.
"Ohhh, Dana," Monica sobbed rolling into her arms and burying her head in between her breasts. "It was you, he was youyouyou," she mumbled, almost inaudible.
…What?... "Who? Who was me?" Dana asked, somewhat hesitant to ask the question, and yet knowing that some part of her needed to know the answer.
Monica mumbled something incoherently yet again as she continued to cry and sob against her bare chest.
"What? Baby, shhh, I don't—I couldn't understand you," Dana replied not understanding a damn thing she had tried to say. "Moni? Please, shhh, I need you to say it for me again, okay? Can you do that? Say it again for me? Please?" she said as she held her more securely in her arms, stroking her shoulder-blades and kissing her on the crown, over and over, trying to comfort her. "Oh sweetheart, please tell me, tell me what is going on with you, okay? Tell me. I need you to—"
"I—can't," the brunette hiccupped through her sobs.
…What?... "Oh baby, of course you can. Why do you think you can't? Hum? Sweetheart?" Dana whispered squeezing her tight in her arms.
"Nooo, I—can't," she hiccupped again shaking her head. "You won't—believe me," she choked out, sobbing, as she kept her wet face and cheeks buried in against the redhead's chest.
"Oh my God," Dana groaned. …I won't believe you? My God, Monica. What the hell?... "Monica? You have got to trust me. You've got to be able to trust me, and tell me what is going on with you, before I can—"
"Nooo, you'd never—believe me."
"Monica? Now hush with that. Shit. What makes you think I won’t believe you? Huh? Shit!" Dana retorted, frustrated.
"Because, you—you didn’t—believe him."
"Mulder," she squeaked out.
…Oh. Christ... Ouch. Now that hurt. Dana cocked an eyebrow. …Oh for Crissakes… "Monica? Please. Try me. Trust me. Trust in me, okay?" she said. And she would make damn sure that she did not make the same mistakes with Monica that she had made with Mulder four years ago. She would not hurt her, even if she did not fully believe her, she would not hurt her, as she had Mulder.
"Nooo, you—you might think that—I'm crazy or—"
"Oh Monica, hush with that. Shit," Dana huffed again in frustration. …Crap!… She would never think her crazy with some of her unconventional hypotheses due to some of her extrasensory skills. She might not believe her, or come to the same conclusion as Monica would, on some of her unusual theories, but she would never think her crazy. She had been working on the X-Files much too long to think something like that of her. And, as a medical doctor, she had seen her share of those suffering from various forms of mental illness and disease anyway. And she knew Monica's mind. Monica was not suffering from any form of mental disease. She was just paranormally "gifted". Besides, her own eyes had flooded over with unshed tears as well, hearing, feeling and trying so hard to comfort Monica as she cried in her arms from such turmoil. "Oh baby? Please, I promise you, that I will—"
"Nooo!" Monica wailed at the sound of that, too—the word "promise"—a promise potentially broken from her well-intentioned lover. Devin had never intended to break his promise to her either. He had always intended to come back to her. But he had been killed, through no fault of his own. And Dana would never intentionally break a promise to her either. But, sometimes life had other plans.
…Well, for Crissakes… Dana inhaled deeply, frustrated. …Shit… And that sudden wail of Monica's, in reaction to her words, had not gone unnoticed either. Monica had really reacted to that idea of a promise in the most negative and heartbreaking sort of way. "Sweetheart? Now listen to me. I am promising you, that I—"
"Nooo!" she wailed again.
…Well, for Crissakes!... "Shush, now listen to me. I promise you, that I will listen, with an open heart, and an open mind. And that I will—"
"Shhh, baby, yes. I promise you that. I am promising you, that I will—"
"No," the pained brunette barely hiccupped her response then nuzzled her forehead in against Dana's chin.
"Oh baby," Dana soothed kissing her on the forehead and beginning to rock her in her arms. "Shhh, shhh." They lay there for a few seconds in silence. "Baby, what is going on? I need you to tell me what is going on, okay? Please? Can you do that?"
Monica sniffled and hiccupped some more as she kept her crown buried in against Dana's chin.
…Oh for Crissakes!... Dana was growing so frustrated. …Shit!... "Sweetheart? I love you. And I need to know what is going on with you. Okay?"
Monica sniffled some more then looked up. "You—promise? That you won't—judge me? Or make any quick assumptions? But that you'll—listen? And not—"
"Shhh, yes baby, I promise I'll listen, and that I won't jump to any premature conclusions, but just listen, okay?" Dana reassured her then kissed her on the forehead combing her fingers through her hair.
Monica just lay there quietly in her arms.
"Sweetheart? Is there—? Do you—? Does some part of you, think that, maybe you know something about Mulder's past-life regression, or—?"
"Yes. Yesyesyes," she rambled.
…Ahhh. Okay… A tiny hint of relief washed over the redhead's heart. Now they were getting somewhere. "Okay. Then I want you to talk to me about it, tell me what it is. I want you to talk to me, and tell me what you're thinking, feeling. Can you do that? Can you trust in me enough to tell me, no matter how unusual it might sound?"
Monica lay there for a few seconds thinking about it, then finally rose up, sniffled a little bit, looked at Dana, then eased her head back down against her shoulder.
…Ohhh. Sweetheart?… Dana just held her. They lay there for several more seconds in silence. "Sweetheart, what is going on? What is hurting you so much?"
Monica sniffled again, then rose up a little more and reached over to the nightstand by the bed and grabbed a tissue. She really needed to blow her nose. She then sat up as Dana let go. She nibbled on her lower lip for a moment then glanced back down to her. "Be back in aminute, okay?"
"Okay. I'll be right here, waiting for you."
"Oh," Monica closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling another deep breath, then sniffled a little bit, then opened her palm and dropped the little touchstone back down in the bed next to Dana again.
Dana looked down making a quick mental note of where it was, so as not to lose it in the sheets.
Monica then got up and went to the bathroom, quickly blew her nose, then washed and wiped her face and hands with a damp washcloth, then returned to the bedroom. She then sat back down on the bed next to her again.
"Oh sweetheart, come here," Dana whispered opening her arms up and reaching for her.
Monica then snuggled back into her arms once more.
"There now, tell me. What is going on with you?" Dana whispered, as she combed her fingers through her thick, dark raven hair once again and began to stroke her back with the other.
Monica just lay there quietly, soaking in the warmth of her woman.
"I'll try. But, it hurts. And I'm not sure if I want to go through that again."
"Oh." Dana closed her eyes then inhaled a deep breath herself. Well. She could understand that. Some things were just too painful to go through time and time again.
"I um. Would you hold me like you were a minute ago? I think I need that."
"Oh." Dana then instantly wrapped her arms more snuggly around her. "You mean like this?"
"Yeah," the brunette sighed contentedly as she snuggled back in.
"Okay." Dana kissed her on the crown again. Of course she could hold her like she had been a few moments before.
Actually, it seemed as if they both needed to be held for a little while, after such a long and adventurous morning of great sex.
"Hum," Dana sighed contentedly herself. She could actually feel herself falling more deeply in love with this woman as she held her in her arms.
Monica seemed so different, so vulnerable right now, and so very, very much in need of her, compared to last week, Helena, Montana, and her short stay in Georgetown. Monica had been her strength, her comfort, her support. So loving and devoted. Like a rock. Her rock. Her stabilizer, the whole time that she had been with her in Helena, Montana and then Georgetown. But now, she seemed so different, so vulnerable, and in need of her own "rock, and stabilizer" after going through such a hellacious week last week. And Dana loved that feeling of being needed and wanted, and being Monica's "strength, comfort and stabilizer" for a little while. She rarely ever got to experience that kind of feeling. She knew that Mulder had needed her on occasion, through the years. But he had rarely acknowledged that or given her much appreciation for it. But then maybe she had been guilty of the very same thing at times, and had rarely acknowledged Mulder's support and friendship towards her either through the years. They had worked well together, overall, but they had certainly kept their deepest secrets and emotions at a comfortable distance from each other, too. And, looking back, she wasn't sure if that had been such a good thing or not. But it had been the way it was, take it or leave it.
Monica nuzzled her nose back in against Dana's soft, cushiony breasts.
Dana chuckled at the intimate contact.
"Mmm." Monica loved the scent of her woman, and her warm, smooth chest and warm, soft breasts. …Oh yeah… She moaned contentedly yet again then reached up and began to play with one of those soft, luscious breasts and hardening nipples.
Dana chuckled again then cocked an eyebrow at the brunette's gentle playing with her breasts.
"Hum," the brunette sighed contentedly as she began to remember some of her earlier, Civil War dreams again.
Devin had had two very tight, sensitive and responsive little nipples, too. Just like Dana's. But they were much smaller and not nearly as pointy. And he had had a very nice chest, too, with a perfect abdomen. Just like Dana's. With a very well-developed little six-pack of muscles always showing when he had his shirt off. He had had the most amazing body, and gorgeous chest, with hair as soft as a kitten's, covering his whole upper body and chest area, spreading down to his stomach and abdomen, until it tapered down into a thin trail, venturing all the way down to his. …Oh yeah… She almost giggled, remembering his. …Oh yeah… And it was so tantalizing, to run her fingers through his thick, auburn chest hair, and watch him jump and squirm, the closer her fingers got to his nice, big, bobbling. …Oh yeah… She almost giggled again. And Dana would always jump and squirm, too, the closer her fingers got to her nice little throbbing erection, her swollen clit and pulsating hood, too, as she grew more aroused. She chuckled, noticing the light brown strip stretching from just below Dana's navel to her pubic hairline—the same one that she had noticed back in Georgetown. It appeared to be getting longer. Not any thicker, just longer. …Hum… She wondered what it was for a moment, then eased her hand down and barely caressed it, just below Dana's navel.
"Oh!" Dana jumped.
Monica giggled. …Hum… She loved this woman. And she loved this wondrous soul. She absolutely adored this wondrous soul. And she needed this soul in her life. She would always love, honor and cherish this soul, protecting it from any harm when she could, even if it meant her own life to do that. She would always need, love and cherish this soul, no matter what size, shape or form of body it chose to come back in.
She reached up and gently cupped one of Dana's warm, soft breasts again. …Oh yes… She loved this body that her soulmate had chosen to come back in. …Oh yes… She loved Dana's gorgeous body and breasts. Now, she began to wonder about some of her other more vividly imaginative dreams. Were they actually dreams? Just figments of her wildly adventurous imagination? Or were they actual past-life experiences as well? Had she really lived in all those emerald forests? Those snow-capped mountains? Those sandy deserts or grassy plains? Near the ocean? Near a river? Or a snow-white beach? Up in the Appalachian Mountains? Or on an old horse farm? A sheep farm? Or a dairy farm? During Victorian times? Grecian times? Renaissance times? Or Babylonian times? Medieval Times? During the days of Julius Caesar? Queen Cleopatra? Or Marc Anthony? Alexander the Great? Or Joan of Arc? During the days of the sinking Titanic? Or the Roaring Twenties? And the crash of the 1929 Stock Market? Had she ever lived as a woman named Gabrielle? Riding on a chestnut brown? Or at other times as a woman named Xena? Riding a palomino? It could be so confusing. And had she actually lived those dreams, those Civil War dreams, as a woman named Anna Marie Baxter? With a young lover named Devin Brody McFadden?
…Hum… She remembered her lover boy, Devin Brody McFadden, very well in her dreams. He was the most amazing lover. Simply the best. Even if he was her first. And he had been more gentle, slow and careful than any of her other male lovers she had experienced in actual life. He had had the most amazing body, lips and chest as well.
…Hum… She leaned in and kissed Dana on the lips, then on one of her rigid little nipples again. …Oh yeah… She loved Dana's rigid little nipples. Devin's would always get hard and rigid like that, too—among other things—but not as hard and tantalizing as Dana's were right now. …Oh God… And she loved Devin's hard body and even harder manliness between his legs. But she loved Dana's soft, silken body, and even softer, velvety-smooth womanliness between her legs right now, even better. Much better. …Oh yeah… She could almost become addicted to Dana's soft, smooth, silkiness and velvety-smooth womanliness between her legs.
"Mmm, Moni?" Dana finally panted, pulling the brunette out of her reverie yet again.
"Oh God baby, if you don’t stop, you're gonna need to make love to me again, okay?" She squirmed a little bit.
"Oh." …Wow!... Monica had not even realized it that she had been squeezing, cupping and playing with Dana's breasts and nipples again, arousing her, higher and higher, while she cupped and squeezed her breasts with her palms, mentally comparing them to Devin's, and remembering the feel of his muscled chest and small, tight nipples, compared to the feel of Dana's soft, smooth chest and cushiony breasts, with much tighter, more tantalizingly erect little nipples. …Oh yeah, baby… She loved the feel of this woman's soft, smooth body and rigidly erect little nipples much better than the man in her dream's hard and hairy body with tiny little nipples.
"Mmm. Ohhh. Baby?" Dana finally had to reach up and still her busy hands. "Christ, I am serious. If you don't stop, I'm gonna have to have you relieve me of this ache you've created between my legs. Do you understand?"
Monica giggled. "You've already got an ache?"
"Yes! My God! You're killing me! You've got me so aroused. Damn!"
…No kidding… Monica giggled again. …Must be the man in you… She giggled again. …Oooh baby… She was really beginning to like this arrangement, the more she thought about it. …Oooh yeah, baby… A male libido in a female body. …Oooh yeah… She really liked that idea a lot. And Dana was the most incredible lover, so experienced in knowing how to please her.
Dana then moved her mischievous hands off her aching breasts and just held them there, close to her heart. "Oh my. Whew. My gosh." She readjusted her hips and pelvis a little bit. Her pregnancy had really begun to play with her hormones and increase her sex drive. And her pulsating clit was letting her know about it. "Um. So. Are you going to tell me anything about what happened earlier?" she asked deciding to ignore her sexual cravings for the moment. Whatever had happened to Monica just moments before was much more important than her pulsating clit at the moment.
Monica nibbled on her lower lip then looked away.
"Monica? Come on now."
The brunette then glanced back up. "I um—Maybe."
Dana then cupped her cheek. "Moni? Come on now. Try me. I might surprise you."
Monica gazed into her eyes for a few seconds, trying to make a decision.
Dana cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Well. This might sound crazy, but—"
"I do well with crazy."
Monica chuckled, almost embarrassed with what she had just said.
"Mon? Come on now."
"I um, I have—dreams."
"Yeah. Dreams. Like. Well. Almost like—Jeez! I don't know how to explain it exactly."
Dana then scooted up in the bed, and then rested her back against the headboard, reaching towards the taller woman.
Monica then scooted up in the bed too, and moved in closer.
"Take your time, I'm listening."
"Well. They're like, more than dreams sometimes," she mumbled then looked away.
"More than dreams."
"Yeah, like—they're real. Vivid. Life-like. Like, when I first wake up at times, it takes me several minutes to reorient myself, to the present."
"Oh." …Hum… Dana found this to be very interesting. "So. Are you suggesting—? Well, crap, what are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that, well? I don’t know. I'm not sure. I just know that, sometimes I dream about foreign lands. Distant homelands. Ancient cities. Different time spans. Famous people. People that it would be impossible for me to know, and yet—Well?" she shrugged. "I'll dream about them. People I've never even met. And that have been dead for centuries, and yet, when I dream about them, I appear to be living with them, among them, in their world, in their time and space, experiencing my life journeys with them, and—"
"You mean as if going back in time, like a time warp, or a time machine."
"Yes. Exactly. Something like that."
Dana nodded, "Okay. So earlier, when I told you about Mulder's past-life—"
"I—We lived it too, Dana," she whispered softly glancing away.
"We?" Dana repeated.
"Yes. We. You and I," she whispered again. …Devin and I rather… she mused, hesitant to even say it. She glanced back up and gazed into Dana's eyes again with that same overwhelming expression of love, loyalty and devotion she had had just moments before.
…Oh wow… "Monica? Are you suggesting that—?" …Wow. Whew… Dana hesitated. That intense look she was presently receiving from the brunette was causing her to stammer and stutter all over her question. "I um. Are you—? Are you suggesting that—? That you've been dreaming about—?"
"Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I am suggesting. I know it sounds crazy, but—" Her eyes began to flood with tears. "I—Dana? I've only told my Grams about these dreams, my dreams. No one else, and—"
"Well, because I've been afraid to. Afraid of what others might think."
Dana nodded again.
"And I—I don't know," she shrugged again. She knew it all sounded quite farfetched and far-reaching. But still.
…Hum. Well… Dana sat quietly contemplating Monica's supposition. She could certainly understand it. Nothing about Monica's dreamscape theory sounded any more farfetched or far-reaching than some of the other more unexplainable things she had seen, heard or experienced over the years due to her work with the X-Files.
"And Dana? I—Look. I—I've always—I've always considered them to be—just dreams. Nothing more than dreams. You know? But now, I'm not so sure."
"Okay," Dana responded. She could understand that, too. She nodded, then closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to decide whether she really wanted to delve any further into this conversation, and hear more about Monica's compelling dreams, and this man that she seemed to think was Dana herself in her dreams, and Mulder's past-life regression or not.
"Dana, I—I know it sounds crazy, and I—I don't mean to frighten you—"
"No, shush, you're not frightening me," Dana reassured her opening her eyes and smiling at her.
Monica smiled in return.
"But. Hum. Well? If one were to believe in such hypothetical occurrences as past-life experiences and future incarnations, then I would consider it a possibility."
"Umhum, yes, Monica. You forget that I've been working on the X-Files for a very long time," she smiled again.
"Oh, thank God," Monica breathed, relieved.
"But, I am not sure where I stand on that particular ideology. Is it plausible? Yes. Irrefutable? No."
"Um. Right." Monica's heart sank to the floor.
"Nor am I sure that I'm ready to hear about it, either way."
"Oh. Okay." …Frig… Her heart sank down even lower, all the way down to the basement.
…Oh Monica… Dana could see the hurt in her eyes. "Moni? I—It goes against everything I've ever believed, as a Roman Catholic. And I—Well? More than that, I do not want to hear anything about a possible past-life of mine if I were fighting for the Confederates, okay? I can’t, I would not be able to live with that, okay? I just couldn't."
"But you weren't, I mean you were, well, you weren't, not in the way that you might think."
"Huh?" Dana's eyes widened, understandably confused.
"I mean that, in my dreams, you're always working with me, undercover, with my group, a group of abolitionists, supplying goods, shelter, transportation and safe-passage to the runaway slaves."
"What?" Dana's heart leaped to her throat. "Abolitionists?" …My gosh...
"Yes. Even though you—Devin, is a sergeant in the Confederate Army, we are both abolitionists. And we work together, covertly, with the Underground Railroad, in coordination with my contacts and other safe-houses in and around West Chickamauga, Georgia, supplying food, water, shelter and provisions, until we can secure safe travel for them towards the next station, near Friendsville, Tenn—"
"What? Wait. The Underground Railroad? Next station? What in the hell are you talking about?"
"Yes. We had an entire network of people, all across the country, with codenames and code-words, helping the runaways flee to the North, sometimes as far north as Canada—"
"The North? We—this man in your dreams—he was a sergeant, enlisted in the Confederate Army, fighting in some battle atop Missionary Ridge, possibly around November 26th, 1863, and yet he was working undercover, with you, to help free escaped slaves."
"Yes! Yes! He was a hero, Dana! My hero! Hundreds of people's hero!" Monica's eyes lit up with excitement.
…Whoa. Well, well now… Dana leaned farther back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds. …Hum. Well, well now… This changed everything, simply everything. Now she could live with that. If it were true, she could absolutely live with that.
"Hum? Oh. Yes. Please. Go on, tell me more," she said glancing back down and making eye-contact.
Monica grinned, all excited, then leaned in against the headboard herself. "Okay, well. In every dream, we always meet under this little mulberry tree, near the stables—"
"Umhum, near some horse stables, on Ole Man Walker's Place, about halfway between McFarland Gap and Flintstone, Georgia. What happened was, I was about to get raped—"
"Yes, but Dev—"
"Raped?! Jeezus, Monica!"
"Yes, but now just wait a minute, okay? You—I mean Devin, always gets there in time."
"Yes. Devin McFadden. I believe that you might be Devin McFadden, in my dreams."
"Oh. Wow. Okay. Whew. Holy crap!" Dana shook her head for a few seconds. …Damn. Okay. Holy shit… Hum. Well. The name did sound oddly familiar. But to be dreaming about this man—this Devin McFadden, whoever he was—and him quite possibly being nothing more than a figment of Monica's imagination. …Shit!… Although, she had promised the enthusiastic brunette that she would listen, and not jump to any hasty conclusions. And most of all, she had promised herself that she would not hurt her, even if she did not believe in this highly unlikely probability, she would not hurt her. She had promised herself that.
"Hum. Okay sweetheart, I'm listening," she smiled, regrouping her thoughts, then squeezed the brunette's hand affectionately. …Oh my, my. What have I gotten myself into?…
"Wait, now wait. Who was trying to rape you?" she asked wanting to at least get the facts straight inside her head, dream or no dream.
"Oh. Um. Some bounty hunters. Searching the surrounding area for escaped fugitives."
"Fugitives? You mean the—"
"Yes. The runaway slaves."
"Okay. Oh my, my, Monica. I cannot imagine dreaming about such a horrible time in history as this, and then about an attempted rape, too."
"But, I'm not. Not really. Devin always gets there in time. He fights the first man off, kills him, and then holds the other three at gunpoint, until the local sheriff—"
"Whoa, wait. Fights him off? Kills him? Holy crap. And there were three others?"
"Yes. At gunpoint. Four men total. Attempting to rape me."
"Oh my God." Dana felt sick. …A gang-rape, by four filthy bastards… "Oh Monica. I can't—ohhh," she groaned. …My God… The very idea of it was making her sick.
"What a minute, now. Just wait a minute, and listen. They knew that I was one of the ringleaders of the local abolitionist group. And, well, I guess they wanted to frighten me."
"Frighten you?! Bloody hell, me Anna! They wanted to have their bloody way with you! And then kill you, dammit! My Gawd! The bloody bastards!" Dana yelled, her blood suddenly boiling inside her veins.
…Whoa!... Monica sat silently waiting to see if Dana had noticed any of her slips-of-the-tongue. …Oh my God. You do remember. You do! You do! You just said my name! Dana? Jeez!… Her heart was jumping into jubilant summersaults inside her chest. But Dana had not seemed to notice. And Monica was not going to push it either as she began to sense just how distressed the fiery little redhead had become over this first part of her story.
"Oh jeez, honey? It's okay, I'm okay, I never get raped in any of my dreams, all right? You—Devin always gets there in time, okay? He always makes it in time to save me," she began to reassure her.
…Ugh! Ngh! Gawd!... Dana could feel the anger and rage boiling inside her veins as her peaked adrenalin rushed throughout her system—that same heated rush of adrenalin she always felt, flooding throughout her system when she had used her weapon to shoot someone.
Monica could sense that same heated rush of anger and adrenalin flowing throughout the fiery little redhead's system, too. …Wow! Oh my gosh. Dana? Jeez!... "Honey? It's okay, I'm okay, I never get hurt."
Dana looked at her for a moment, then closed her eyes swallowing hard, trying her best to calm her angered soul back down. …Christ! What the hell just happened to me?... She could hardly believe it how her body had reacted to Monica's retelling of her story. She almost felt as if she had just killed someone. …Crap!... "Whew." …For Crissakes… She glanced back up at Monica. "Moni? I—I don't—"
"Shhh, it's okay, I’m okay, I never get hurt, nothing ever happens to me, okay?" she smiled. "You—Dev always gets there in time. Always. He never lets me down."
Dana nodded again as her racing heart began to slow back down. "Whew." …Good gosh! Sweet Mary... She reached up and massaged her forehead for a few seconds, totally flabbergasted with what had just happened, and how her body and soul had reacted to Monica's retelling of her dreams.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I—Whew! I'm not sure what just happened, but, continue. I want to hear more," she said looking back up.
"Okay," Monica smiled, squeezing her hand, then began to tell her more about her dreams of Devin and Anna Marie Baxter. Confederate Generals Patrick Cleburne, Braxton Bragg and Federalist Generals William T. Sherman and Ulysses S. Grant. West Chickamauga and Flintstone, Georgia. The East Tennessee, Georgia Railroad tunnel. Lookout Mountain and the Tennessee Valley. Steamboats, tugboats, railroads, and riverboats. Mules, horses, horse-buggies and wagon trains. More and more about her dreams, as Dana grew more and more captivated by all the different stories, all centering around the same basic timeframe, the same basic locations, the same basic historical battles and historical events occurring during that era, Monica's various dreams just giving her more and more insight and information into the area, the historical events and basic timeline.
It was amazing, simply fascinating—all of Monica's dreams—and how vivid and accurate they actually seemed to be. And Dana didn’t know why or how, but occasionally, she was able to provide specific facts, dates and missing locations herself; and specific moments in time, that Monica had not been made aware of through her dreams. And was able to add key information to Monica's retelling of her dreams, occasionally feeling as if she had lived in that time and space, too, as her heart jumped and fluttered inside her chest at some of the retelling of specific events.
And, at times, she began to wonder if maybe she should just go with it, believe in it, and believe that she had actually lived it, too, since both Mulder and Monica seemed to be so sure that she had. What could it hurt? To believe in such a fascinating story—a love story of sorts—and believe that she had fallen in love with such a beautiful and courageous young woman as this, Miss Anna Marie Baxter, in the Fall of 1863? What could it hurt?
She grinned gently squeezing Monica's hand again.
Monica stopped her story for a few seconds, then cocked an eyebrow, wondering what that tender little squeeze of her hand was all about.
Dana winked then leaned her head back against the headboard again closing her eyes. "Tell me more, baby, tell me more."
Monica grinned then resumed the magical love story between Devin McFadden and Anna Marie Baxter from her dreams, and how that his regiment had been stationed just west of Chickamauga, Georgia, since late September of 1863, which gave them almost two full months to fall more deeply in love with each other before their ultimate and final separation.
Most nights, he would sneak off from his camp, and meet up with her, as she brought him more runaways to escort to the river or to other members of her abolitionist group located farther north, then paddle them up river, using old fishing boats and canoes, towards the enemy Union lines. Then the Union soldiers would give them safe-haven behind Federalist lines, until they could be guided and transferred again farther north towards the next safe-house. And then, later in the night, or the very wee hours of the morning, sometimes just before first-light, Devin would meet up with Anna again, under the stars, or twilight, or underneath the canopy of their little mulberry tree, and then the two of them would sneak off and hide somewhere, inside an old barn, an old horse stable, a lone rock ledge along the riverfront, or ultimately ride off together on horseback, into the forest, towards the nearest cave, or down into the lower valley when needed, to find a little more time to be alone, for some of the most romantic, most intimate conversations—both spiritual and intellectual—with all kinds of moments for a little physical intimacy, too. Kissing, snuggling, cuddling and caressing, and ultimately making-out under the stars, out in the open fields, inside an old horse stable or wine cellar, or even inside a lone cave a couple of times, and, ultimately, on their very first and only time to actually consummate their love, inside an old barn loft on Ole Man Walker's place.
Dana giggled. "So are you telling me, Ms. Monica Reyes, that you were not the young, dainty, frilly and innocent little Southern Belle that we always read about? But were actually this mischievous, unrelenting little temptress, teasing and seducing this nice young man of yours until he finally lost his resolve inside his pants?"
Monica snorted. "Oh yeah, he lost his resolve all right. Creamed himself all over the place that night."
Dana guffawed. "Poor thing."
Monica laughed, too. "Oh yeah, I know. But I had him. I was rubbing my—you know," she cupped her crotch for a moment, "up against him and I could feel him, feel his willie—"
"His willie?" Dana grinned.
"Yeah. That's what we called them back then. A willie. Their willies."
"Willies? Oh my," Dana laughed.
"Well? It was not nice to talk about such things back then," she giggled. "And with my innocent eyes—"
"Innocent eyes my ass," Dana countered.
"No, really. I'd never seen one before. And I had no idea what it looked like, or what it could do—"
"Oh my Lord," Dana laughed even harder. "Oh, Sweet Mary, I don’t remember when I've laughed so hard."
Monica was laughing, too, enjoying remembering some of these wonderfully sweet, yet funny times with Devin.
"And he wouldn’t let you touch him?"
"Hell, no! Are you kidding? It wasn't ladylike. Nor was it gentlemanly like."
"Oh my. And I cannot imagine that you would let some proper BS protocol of the day, stop you from doing what you wanted to do," Dana giggled again.
"Yeah, but times were different back then."
"And so you took it upon yourself to about kill him?" Dana teased her.
Monica giggled. "Yeah. I kept rubbing myself up against him while we were kissing. We were kissing like a couple of wild banshees in heat or something, and I could feel him getting harder and harder, inside his pants and, damn! I'd never felt anything like that before. So when he started trying to move away from me, he couldn't. Because I had him trapped up against the wall. He was struggling a little bit, and then I knew that something different was about to happen—"
"No, really, I knew that something really different was about to happen, because every other time he had always managed to back away from me in time, to stop whatever was about to happen—"
"Umhummm," Dana giggled again imagining the scene, and this handsome, healthy young man, at his sexual peak, in such dire need of some sexual relief, with his rock-hard penis throbbing inside his pants. …Oh my, my… She suddenly felt a wave of sexual heat wash over her.
"And then I'd glance down and see this big, huge, bulging cock straining inside his pants, and—whoa, Nellie."
Dana laughed again. "That big, huh?"
"Oh yeah, that big. Very big. And hard."
Umhum. Very. And wet."
"Wet?" Dana cocked an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah, you know. That little wet spot that always soaks through, just before they're about to come."
"Oh." Dana guffawed.
"And that just intrigued me even more."
"Oh my. I'm sure that it did, my inquisitive little seductress," Dana laughed again.
"And darn, Dana, I'd never seen one before. So I had no idea what that little wet spot meant either, but I knew that it had to be good, right?"
"Oh my, my." Dana guffawed again. "I guess so." ...Oh, the joys of innocence...
"And, the poor baby? He was about to unload right there, inside his pants, and I didn’t even know enough to know it. No wonder he would end up leaving me so fast. He had to have been riding off to somewhere, fast! Until he felt safe, and could jack himself off."
Dana snorted then guffawed again. …Oh, my, my… "Yep. Unzipping those uncomfortably tight pants out there somewhere, underneath those stars, and jacking himself off by the light of the moon."
Monica giggled. "Yeah. And then one time, I had finally drummed up enough courage to reach down and touch him one night. And he jumped so far, I swear. But it moved! God! That big, bulging cock of his moved! And jerked up against my hand! Shit! And that made me all the more curious—"
Dana snorted. "Oh Christ, so inquisitive." …So beautifully sweet and inquisitive…
"Yeah. Is that not amazing? But anyway, on that one night, he started whimpering my name, and then I grabbed his butt—tightest butt this side of Knoxville—and then he reached around for my hands, but I kept pressing myself in against him, rubbing my—"
"Oh my, my," Dana whimpered herself. …Ohhh. Shit! How hot… She could almost feel the inquisitive brunette pressing herself up against her throbbing erection, too, as she envisioned the scene. …Mmm… And Devin's aching cock, throbbing and bobbing inside his pants, needing something to thrust into, so he could unload all of that backed up sexual energy into somewhere. …Oh yeah…
"Yep. And he kept on whimpering my name, while I clutched at his cute little butt some more, and pressed myself in even harder against him, and I swear, I could feel his—ohhh, God! He was so big! And hard! His big willie thrusting in against me, and straining inside his pants, trying to—"
"Oh God, Monica," Dana panted, as more waves of arousal washed over her. …Shit!... She felt more trickles of moisture gush out between her legs. …Christ!… Now she was really beginning to feel what desperate little Devin had been feeling that night, just imagining the scene, as his Anna—her Monica—was pressing her mound up against his/her big, hard, rock-hard, pulsating cock. …For Crissakes… That is if she had one.
"And something about that thrusting sensation just urged me on. So I groped at his butt again and pressed myself in, even harder against him. And then he started whimpering my name again, saying that we needed to 'stop', and I'm thinking 'stop, hell!'—"
Dana snorted then giggled again, getting so aroused herself she could hardly stay still in the bed. …Ohhh, Jeezus… Her erect clit was really beginning to ache.
"And I kept doin' what I was doin' until I felt his hips start jerkin' up against me—"
"Oh Christ. Monica?" Dana had just creamed herself yet again with warm liquid gushing out between her legs. …Gawd!… Maybe they should stop this conversation, too—or maybe stop talking about this particular event in her story at least. …Jeezus!... Before she came herself from just listening and envisioning the scene.
"And then he starts to make these soft little grunts; I know now, trying not to come inside his pants—"
"Oh my gosh. Monica? Whew!" Dana wiped her brow. …Holy crap!… She was so hot and horny herself right now, just listening and envisioning the scene. …Gawd!... And if she didn’t know better she'd swear she had a big, rock-hard cock pulsating between her legs right now, too, trying to unload inside those sweatpants.
"And I knew he was trying not to do something. Hell! I didn't know what. I'd never seen a man come before, but I figured, 'What the hell? There's gotta be somethin' good goin' on down there', right? So I reached down and tried to grab his cock, through his pants, but he grabbed onto my hand in time, then moved it around to my side—"
"Oh my, my."
"But it was too late. He was struggling so hard not to come. And I remember grinning at him and then thrusting my hips in against him one more time, and that did it."
"Oh, I bet," Dana panted, running her fingers through her hair again, as she felt more trickles of moisture gush out between her legs. "Whew." …Jeezus! Oh yeah, baby…
Monica chuckled, "Yeah, and then his hips jerked up a couple more times, and then—blast off!"
Dana snorted then guffawed again, bending double with laughter.
"He grunted into my ear, like a baby, and then unloaded himself all over the inside of his pants—"
"Ohhh, Christ. Monica?" Dana had begun to fan herself. "Whew!" …Jeezus!... She felt as if she had just unloaded herself all over the inside of those sweatpants, too. "Christ. And I'm so fucking hot right now, I could—Jeezus! Just thinking about this, is making me—Whew! Shit!"
Monica giggled. "Yep. It was hot all right. Damn hot. And poor little innocent, virgin me didn’t even know what had just happened. Not fully. But by the look on his face—Oh Dana. I thought he was gonna cry, he was so embarrassed."
"Ohhh," Dana cooed. "How sweet."
"Yes, it was. He was so sweet. The perfect gentleman."
"Oh my, my. Mmm." Dana reached down and cupped herself just to the edge of her clit, giving herself a little relief. "Shit! No wonder you like dreaming about this. Christ! I'm so—Mmm."
"Wet?" Monica giggled, cocking an eyebrow.
"Mmm, umhum. Can’t deny it," she chuckled as well.
Monica giggled. "Oh wow. Did my story just give you a little wet fantasy?" she teased cupping Dana's hand with her own.
"Mmm. Umhum. A nice little wet fantasy," she grinned happily.
"Um. Yummy. And guess what? There's more."
"Oh. I'm sure," Dana chuckled again.
"Oh yeah. After that night, he would let me touch him, and get him off. Or he'd let me watch, while he got himself off, and then he'd teach me how to—"
"Oh Christ. Monica?" Dana gasped again. "Whew. You are really wearing me down. Mmm." She could really go for a quick little fuck right about now.
"Mmm. Nothing, but why was he doing that? Why didn’t he just—"
"He didn’t want it to frighten me, his big cock. I guess he was afraid that it might spook me, or make me a little nervous and leery of the idea, for when we were actually gonna do it. He wanted me to know what to expect, what would happen, and how his body would react before he ever went inside of me. And, actually, I'm not even sure that he was planning to do it with me anyway, before we got married. But, little vixen me—" she winked.
"And then he taught me more about myself, too, and how to get myself off—"
"Well? I'd played around down there a few times myself, but I didn’t know anything about how to—"
"Moni? Christ!" Dana panted again.
"What?" Monica grinned.
"Well? It was unladylike back in those days, to masturbate," Monica giggled. But she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly how much her story was driving the little redhead wild with desire. And she knew exactly how aroused Dana could get from just the mere mention of sex and masturbation. "Yes?" she chuckled again.
"Mmm, Jeezus! You're driving me crazy!" the redhead said.
…Mmm, and don’t you think I know that?... Monica giggled at her thoughts.
"Mmm. Jeezus! And I wonder why that is anyway? Shit! To hear about someone else's sexual escapades, and doing it with all your clothes still on anyway? Shit!" The aroused redhead pressed the heel of her palm in against her tingling clit yet again, giving herself a little more relief.
"Hum." Monica cocked an eyebrow. She could feel the heat radiating off Dana's crotch, too, through her palm. "Well. Maybe because you feel as if you're doing something that's forbidden?"
"Um, yes. That's it. Jeezus! I can’t believe how hot this story has made me. Shit!" The redhead pressed her palm in against her crotch again. …Good grief!... She was so hot. And wet. And she wished she had one of her strap-ons with her right now to put on, so she could play a little game with the tantalizing brunette. They could play a new little game called "Devin and Anna". That could be fun—a very nice little roll-playing game—with all the clothes, and all of that sweet and innocent puritanical virginity to work with. …Oh yeah, what fun… And she would not mind at all playing "the man" in the little game. She wouldn't mind playing Devin at all. Hell! She was Devin, from another life. She was just not quite ready to admit to that yet.
Monica giggled, then pressed her own palm over Dana's cupped hand again, then leaned in and kissed her. "Mmm, baby, we don't have enough time for me to make love to you properly, like I want to, but as soon as we get back home tonight, I will, okay? As soon as we come through that bedroom door."
"Mmm, yes. As soon as we enter the house. But, we do need to take some time out to eat."
Monica chuckled again. "Yes. A little dinner would be good. And soon. Or we'll be running out of energy for tonight."
"Mmm, right. And my ache is finally beginning to subside," Dana grinned, amazingly not embarrassed in the least with what she had just revealed to Monica. She trusted Monica to not judge her, or think her a sex maniac or something just because she had become so physically aroused by the story. Imaginary sex can be so erotic anyway, leading to such emotional arousal too, as well as physical.
Monica chuckled again. She had a sneaking suspicion as to why Dana had become so physically aroused hearing about her dream, anyway. …Hum, because maybe it was your cock, Dana Scully? That I had been rubbing my twat up against? Making it harder and harder? And causing you to ache so bad? With it jerking and throbbing inside your pants, until you finally couldn't take it any longer? And had to let go? Popping your top inside your pants? Hum?... She giggled again.
What fun it could be, pretending that Dana had a cock on occasion anyway. Now that could be a lot of fun. She wouldn’t mind pretending that Dana had a cock. That could be so much fun. And she had a sneaking suspicion that Dana would be very open to the idea, too. She was into strap-ons after all. …No wonder… She grinned. …You use to have a cock. Twice! That we know of. Shit!... And she had had a cock too, in a former life, if she were to believe in all of her dreams. According to one of her other dreamscapes, Dana had been her wife. And she had been her husband, with three little children running around. …Wow!... Now was that not intriguing; having a family of five—herself, three kids and a wife—in a former life. …Hum… And a little gender-bending game could be very intriguing, indeed; especially if they both were actually reliving former lives from their mutual pasts.
"Mmm, wow," Dana sighed as her clit finally stopped aching. "Gosh, this is all so fascinating."
"Yes. Simply fascinating."
And the stories were fascinating—simply magical—even with all of the bad things that were going on during that time in American history. After all, there was a civil war going on, about to split the country in two. But if one were to believe in Monica's dreams, then there had been much good happening, too, just underneath the surface.
She smiled again then squeezed Monica's hand affectionately moving it off her clit. …God… And she loved this woman. She was thoroughly captivated listening to her tell about all the many minute, pertinent details, so significant to Devin and Anna's story. "Hum," she sighed contentedly then gently squeezed Monica's hand affectionately yet again.
Monica grinned. "Wanna hear more?"
"Hell, yeah, I wanna hear more. This is amazing." She grinned again.
"Okay." Monica glanced at the clock for a moment then chuckled. They still had some time before needing to get up and get showered. "Hum. Well. So. As you can see, we always made time for ourselves, even if it were only for a few minutes, we'd always make time for ourselves. And then you—oh gosh, I'm sorry—Devin would dash back to his company in time to make roll-call. And I don’t know how in the hell he ever managed to do that, without getting caught."
"Maybe I—" …Whoa… Dana paused. "I um, maybe he did at times."
"Cleburne was quite the sympathizer towards the abolitionists. The history books don’t like to admit to that, but—" Dana paused again. …For Crissakes… Now how in the heck could she have known that kind of inside information about the man, unless she had been there, too, living back then, and fighting under his command? …Holy crap!… She had astounded herself yet again. "I um. Continue."
Monica just sat quietly, fascinated with Dana's slow but progressive recollections. Evidently, she really was beginning to remember some small parts of her former life as Devin. "Um, so, anyway. You—oh frig, Dana, I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep doing that."
"It's all right. You're just very sure about this, aren’t you?"
"Yes. I am," she said. …Very sure… Her eyes began to water.
"Oh no. No more tears," Dana said reaching up and running her fingertip across her chin.
"Okay. I'll try."
"Yes, there now. I just want to hear more about the story, okay? About Devin and Anna. Now what did you say that my—" …Oh! For Crissakes!... She had caught herself yet again. "Um. What did you say that his full name was again?"
Monica grinned, not missing that slip-of-the-tongue either. "Devin Brody McFadden. Out of—"
"Johnson City," Dana answered correctly.
…Yes! Oh my God, yes!… "I, um, yes. Out of Johnson City, Tennessee. And he was Irish, an Irish immigrant."
Dana chuckled, "As was Cleburne."
…What? Oh my goodness... Monica's eyes widened. …Yes. Holy shit, honey!… The redhead was really beginning to remember things now, even if these small slips-of-the-tongue were going unnoticed by her. "Hum. And how did you know that?" she playfully interrogated her, just to see how she would answer.
"I um, hum. Well?" …Crap!... Dana sat there flabbergasted. She had no idea. …How the hell did I know that? Shit!... "I um, I don't know," she replied.
"Oh Dana, shit. One question: Doesn't it strike you odd, how you seem to—? Oh frig, never mind." Monica knew it best to not push it, or push her, but just drop it, and let the redhead figure it out on her own.
Dana sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. …Hum. Yes. Shit… Yes. It was striking her odd—very odd, indeed—at how easily she was beginning to remember things, undoubtedly from her studies in her history classes through the years, she reasoned. Of course she had never really studied much about the American Civil War, Braxton Bragg, Patrick Cleburne, Ulysses S. Grant, Joseph "Fighting Joe" Hooker, William T. Sherman, the Army of the Tennessee, or the Army of the Cumberland, the Battles of Chattanooga, or any of the other specific dates, specific maneuvers and notable battlegrounds surrounding the local area and timeline. Yes, it was striking her. But she was choosing to ignore it.
Monica chuckled, shaking her head, then leaned in and gave her a quick little peck on the cheek. …Um, um, um, my stubborn little woman… Dana was remembering. Whether she wanted to admit to it or not, she was remembering.
Dana smirked. Somehow she knew what the brunette was thinking, too. "So. Tell me again, about that barn loft, and how I made love to you that first—" …Oh crap… She hesitated. She had done it again.
Monica chuckled, her heart skipping a beat. "Hum. Well?" she grinned. "For Godsakes. I should have known, that that would be what you would find the most interesting—Devin and me up in the barn loft, the night he deflowered me."
Dana giggled. "Well? It sounds as if he was a damn good lover, and did it quite well—deflowering you."
"Oh God." Monica felt her cheeks turning pink. "Um, yes. He did. And he was. The best. Simply the best man I ever had."
Dana laughed. "Now that's gotta be a bitch. Your best man, and yet he's not real."
"Oh, he's real all right. Very real, inside my head."
"Mmm, and did he get you wet that night, too, just before he made love to you?"
"Oh frig," Monica grinned looking away, as she felt her cheeks growing even hotter.
Dana chuckled mischievously yet again. "Well? Did he? Did he make you wet that night?"
"Dana? Yes. Quite." Monica's cheeks were burning red hot now.
"Mmm, and then I, deflowered you?"
…Whoa. Honey?... Her heart skipped another beat. Was she flirting with her? Or had she really not noticed that latest slip-of-the-tongue? "Um, yep," she said.
"And you're a virgin? Every time? In every dream?"
"Yep. Every time. In every dream. Before I finally lure you up into that barn loft."
Dana chuckled again then reached up and cupped her cheek. "Well. I'm sure you didn't have to do much luring to get me up into that barn loft with you."
Monica giggled then leaned in against the headboard again as the little redhead suddenly became quite aggressive indeed with her advances, pressing her hard against the headboard with her highly arousing kisses.
…Mmm. Whoa! Holy shit!...Monica could hardly breathe the kisses were so aggressive.
They kissed that way for several seconds before Dana finally broke contact.
Monica lay there panting, still leaned up against the headboard. …Damn, woman! When you kiss me like that. Holy shit!… Her insides were still quivering with arousal.
Dana cocked an eyebrow, lightly panting herself. "Hum. So did this Devin of yours ever kiss you like that?"
Monica just grinned licking her lips.
"Well? Did he?"
"Oh my goodness. I should think you know."
"Ahhh. Hum," Dana cocked an eyebrow yet again. …Well, yes, wes. I think I should, too…
She then leaned back against the headboard again herself, closing her eyes. And it did seem that some small part of her did know. It did seem that some small part of her knew exactly how she had kissed this young, sweet and innocent, young woman named Anna Marie Baxter, several decades ago, inside a little barn, up in the highest loft, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, between the hills and valleys of McFarland Gap and Flintstone, Georgia. Maybe some small part of her did remember the wonderfully passionate times she had shared with this young woman—as her man, Devin McFadden. She would certainly like to remember splendidly romantic times like that, and know that, when Monica had described their very first time together to actually make love, that she really had been as careful and considerate as Monica had described, with this sweet and innocent young woman named Anna Marie Baxter, if it really were Anna's first time to be with a man. She certainly hoped she had been that gentle, careful and considerate, and had been able to control her manly urges, as she had used only a finger at first, and then two, to gently touch, stretch and ultimately pierce her woman's hymen, making sure that she was very, very ready and very aroused, so that nothing about her first time with a man would hurt her. …Hum. Yes… If Monica's dreams were actually memories from their past-lives, then she had nothing to worry about, fear, or be ashamed of. And she must have really loved—that is, this Devin—must have really loved this woman named Anna Marie Baxter immensely.
She glanced back up at Monica again then began to rub her thigh. "Okay. You've told me about the good. Now it's time for you to tell me about the bad, and what made you so upset earlier."
Monica continued to look at her for a few seconds then just tucked her head in, rolled in, and buried her face in against her chest.
"Well. Moni?" Dana wrapped her arms around her.
Monica didn’t respond.