TITLE: Dream Catcher 
AUTHOR: Kirsten Kerkhof * kirsten_xf@yahoo.com 
RATING: G 
CLASSIFICATION: Mulder/Scully Friendship 
CATEGORY: S  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. 
SPOILERS: Beyond the Sea  
FEEDBACK: Please -- A Mulder to taste for those who care to 
write back. 

SUMMARY: Scully finally finds time to talk to a mysterious little 
boy she's seen sitting in the streets of Washington DC. It turns 
out he has a story of his own to tell ... 

NOTE: I wrote this story on the day that I bought myself a dream 
catcher. It's hanging in my bedroom doing pretty much nothing 
except for looking kinda weird. Still, I love the thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
Washington DC, one day in May 
 

There he was, a little to the side, trying not to be too 
conspicuous, just sitting there quietly and seemingly at ease. With 
smooth, quick movements his little boy's fingers weaved the 
strings to form a web within a wooden ring. In front of him were 
several other smaller and larger rings just like the one he was 
making right now. The wood used for the rings was dark brown 
and the feathers, three per ring, were of a lighter shade of brown 
and they were attached to each ring and decorated with wooden 
beads and strips of rusty iron. They were not particularly beautiful 
and it didn't seem like the boy ever sold a lot of them. 

From time to time the boy would look up at the people 
passing him by and smile and say something to them upon which 
he was usually ignored. But clearly it was not important to him 
whether or not he received an answer, for he'd just return to his 
work and within seconds he'd be totally absorbed by the weaving 
of the strings which would slowly start to form a delicate webbing 
that looked a bit like a cobweb. From time to time people could 
hear him hum a little tune nobody recognised and then see him 
start giggling as though the words of the song held the most 
mischievous secret his little boy's mind could think of. Meanwhile 
his tiny  fingers would swiftly and skilfully weave the strings into 
the cobweb-like objects. 

That's how Dana Scully often saw him in the streets of 
Washington DC. Sitting on an old blanket which was torn and 
ragged and of which the original colour could no longer be 
identified, something familiar about him always managed to 
captivate her attention and she'd watch him from a distance for 
about fifteen minutes after which she'd walk on because more 
important matters were calling and they effectively prevented her 
from finding out more about this little Indian boy who was 
spending his days in the streets of DC weaving his little webs and 
singing his mysterious funny songs. 

But today Scully had nothing important to do so she 
decided to see if the boy would be in his original place again. And 
he was, sitting on his faded, torn blanket with a few of the webs 
he'd made spread out before him. He was humming again, a tiny 
smile lighting up his little face. It made Scully smile as well as 
she walked up to him and squatted before him. 

"Hi", she said and the boy looked up from his work. 

"Hi", he answered, smiling friendly but not pausing from 
his work. 

Scully looked at the web he was weaving. "They're 
beautiful", she said. "What are they?" 

The boy picked up the last of the three feathers and 
attached it to the wooden ring. Then he folded some iron strips 
around the base of the feathers and strung the beads onto the 
feathers.  

"They're called dream catchers", he said eventually, 
placing the newly finished dream catcher on the blanket. He 
looked at the arrangement for a minute, then looked at her. 
"They're not really in the right order, are they, Dana?" 

Scully, who had been watching him arrange the dream 
catchers, suddenly looked up, startled by the unexpected use of 
her name. "How do you know my name is Dana?" she asked. 

"Well, it is, isn't it?" the boy said, obviously not aware of 
the surprise his words had caused. Scully nodded. "Well", he said, 
"then that's all that's important. Do you think it would look better 
if I swapped this one with that other one?" 

"I think so", Scully said. 

He changed the dream catchers and nodded. "Yeah, it 
looks much better that way." He looked pleased with the result 
and sat down again. Then he reached in an old cotton bag that 
was behind him and took out some pieces of string and another 
wooden ring. 

"How many of these do you usually sell in a week?" Scully 
asked. "May I?" she asked, pointing at a bit of the blanket that 
wasn't yet covered in dream catchers. 

"Sure", he said, evading her first question by simply not 
answering it at all. Scully sat down and watched him carefully 
running the ring through his thin fingers. Suddenly he stopped 
and with a delighted smile he rubbed his thumb over one 
particular spot on the ring. Then he raised it to his ear and 
listened. 

"Listen", he said to her, handing her the wooden ring. 
"The wood is singing a little song!"  

Scully put her usual scepticism aside and listened, but 
heard nothing. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can hear it", she said. 
She gave him the ring back and he listened to it again. 

"Most people can't, but sometimes some people can hear 
it", he said with a smile that told her he didn't mind her inability 
to hear the wood sing. "It's a pity you can't really hear it, because 
the wood is singing this song specifically for you, you know." 

"For me?" Scully asked astonished. 

"Yes, of course" 

"What tune is it?" 

"I don't know, but I think you'd recognise it. It has 
something to do with your father. Your father is dead, isn't he?" 

Scully nodded, confused by the fact that this boy appeared 
to know this intimate thing about her. 

"The wood is singing a little song for Starbuck, but I don't 
know anybody with a name like that. It's a silly name, isn't it?" 
the boy said, giggling at this last remark as if it were the best joke 
in the world. 

"My father used to call me Starbuck", Scully said softly. 
"It's from a very famous book he often read to me when I was a 
little girl. He'd read it to me before I went to bed." 

"Oh", he said. "I can't read, you know; I mean, I'd like to 
be able to read and people say I ought to go to school 'cause I'm 
twelve, but mom and dad haven't got enough money to send me to 
a good school. Besides I like making these dream catchers." He 
had started to wrap the rings in flat pieces of string, every now 
and again listening to the wood singing. 

"He says he's very glad you're working so well." 

"Who says that?" Scully asked. 

"Ahab does", the boy said matter-of-factly. Then he looked 
up again. "Do you have children, Dana? My mother's got lots of 
children. I've got four sisters and two brothers and my eldest sister 
had a baby some time ago. Do you have kids, Dana?" 

"No. I can't have babies", Scully said softly. 

"Oh", the boy repeated and they were silent for a little 
while. Then he continued. "Fox says he'd like you to be able to 
have babies. He says he's very sorry and that he wants to find 
something so you can have babies." 

Scully was silent, struck by the boy's words and the way he 
so casually revealed one thing after another about her father, 
about Mulder, about herself ... 

"How ... how do you know all these things?" she asked. 

"The wind tells me. Can't you hear the wind talking to 
you?" 

Scully shook her head. "I've never heard the wind speaking 
to me." 

The boy chuckled. "No-oh, the wind doesn't speak to you, 
it *talks* to you! The wind can't say words, the wind just, you know, 
puts things in your head that you can't really know and stuff." He 
smiled a disarming smile. "I think Fox would hear it, wouldn't 
he?" 

"Fox?" 

"Yeah, that man you work with. His name's Fox, isn't it?" 

"Eh ... yes, it is ...", Scully stammered. 

"My name's Fox, too, but I always make people call me 
John, especially white people, because they think Fox is a stupid 
name. Don't know why." 

"I like it", she said. "I like that name very much." 

They were silent for a few minutes. Fox continued weaving 
the dream catcher while Scully watched his nimble fingers create 
complex structures by simply knotting and tying the strings 
together. 

"I think this one's supposed to be for Fox", the boy said. 

"Is it?" Scully asked. "Why would it be for Mulder?"  

"Mulder? Why do you call him Mulder?" Fox asked 
instead. 

"Well, we started calling each other by our last names 
when we first started working together and we haven't changed it. 
It feels better that way. You know, he calls me Scully and I call 
him Mulder", she answered, looking at her hands. Once again 
Fox had been given a way out so that he wouldn't have to answer 
the question, but Scully didn't notice. 

"Dana Scully and Fox Mulder", the boy said. Silence fell 
again and Fox started humming softly while he continued 
weaving the web. 

"Fox isn't very happy, is he?" he asked after a while. 

"No, sometimes he isn't", she answered. "He has a lot to be 
very sad for." 

"I was very sad when I lost my sister." 

"You lost your sister?" Scully asked. 

"Yeah, but at least I've still got four other sisters, Fox had 
only one. It must be very hard for him. Does he cry a lot? I know I 
do." 

"He sometimes cries, but he's a grown-up and he doesn't 
show it often", Scully answered. 

"No, I believe he doesn't", Fox muttered. Then he looked at 
her. "But he's crying right now. He's very sad now, he wants to 
have his sister back." 

"He's crying right now?" Scully asked, immediately 
reaching for her cell-phone. 

"No, not with tears, he's asleep right now. But, you know, 
his spirit is crying. It cries all the time", he explained. "And he 
feels it so much because he never found his other sister either and 
he thinks they think he doesn't care about either of them." 

"His other sister? What do you mean by 'his other sister'?" 
she asked confused. What did this boy know that she didn't? 

"You know, he had this older sister when he lived in this 
other place with his other mommy and daddy and his other 
brothers and sisters", Fox said, his tone revealing his surprise that 
she didn't know this. "But, you know, it's not his fault his sister 
drowned, you should tell him it's not his fault. It was all the 
horse's fault and she just flowed away on the river and he jumped 
into the water to save her and that's how they both died." 

Scully was totally dumbfounded. 

"You see, he tried to save her, but she fell into the river 
and drowned and so did he." 

Scully barely heard this as her own thoughts raced through 
her head. Finally she started to understand a bit more about the 
reason for Mulder's huge guilt-complex, a feeling of guilt towards 
his sister that was so all-compassing that she sometimes thought 
he was exaggerating. But he wasn't. He probably wasn't even 
consciously aware of it, but when Samantha had slipped away 
from him that fateful night, it was the second time a sister of his 
had 'flowed away' from him and again he hadn't been able to save 
or even help her. And the first time he had apparently jumped 
into the water and consequently drowned in an attempt to save his 
other sister. And he probably would have jumped out of the 
window just as easily to save Samantha if the 'light' hadn't 
paralysed him like that.  

The combination of these two traumas kept him burdened 
with a guilt-complex that hung around his neck like a mill-stone. 
He had lost two sisters. And he felt he was the one to blame. 

Poor Mulder. 

"You should tell him about Mary. Tell him Mary forgives 
him", Fox said. 

"Mary?" 

"His sister", he answered simply. Scully looked at him and 
saw the boy regarding her intently. The contrast between his eyes 
and the rest of his body was frightening. The boy's body was that 
of a twelve-year-old, but he had the wisdom of an old man in his 
eyes. This boy knew far more than was good for him; he had seen 
more, been to more places than he should have. 

"Where are *you* now?" she heard herself ask him. "Are you 
in DC or are you some-where else?" 

The boy narrowed his eyes and placed his hand 
protectively over the dream catcher he was weaving. "I say you 
tell me!" he said slyly. 

Scully smiled and picked up the dream catcher nearest to 
her. "I say you're somewhere else. Your body is here, but your 
soul, your ... spirit is somewhere else, somewhere far from here 
where it feels better at home, where it can be with its own 
people", she said, tracing the delicate web that formed the dream 
catcher. "Right?" 

The boy smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you're right, I don't 
really wanna be here ..." 

Scully put the dream catcher back on the blanket and Fox 
continued weaving. 

"Do you know the story of the dream catcher, Dana?" 

She shook her head. "No, would you mind telling me?" 

"Sure", he started, holding a finished dream catcher up to 
show her. "You know, you're supposed to hang the dream catcher 
near your bedroom window and then it will catch all the dreams 
that come into your room, good ones and bad ones. The bad 
dreams will get caught in the webbing and when the morning sun 
comes they burn and disappear. The good dreams will also get 
caught in the webbing, but they know their way through the little 
hole in the centre, you know, and then they filter down into the 
feathers and the following night they fly out of the feathers and 
into your head and you have only good dreams and no 
nightmares." He placed the dream catcher back on the blanket. 
"Nice story, isn't it?" 

"I love it, it's a beautiful story", Scully said. She looked at 
the skilful movements of the child. "Who taught you to make 
these dream catchers, Fox?" 

"My sister did, you know, before she died. My eldest sister 
named her baby after her to remember her. She was only fifteen 
when she died." 

"How did she die, Fox?" 

"She was riding one of my father's horses and then all of a 
sudden the horse bolted and threw her into the river. She 
drowned, nobody could save her. You know, I really tried, but of 
course I couldn't because the water was too wild. It makes me very 
sad though ..." 

"How old were you when that happened?" Scully asked. 

"Too young", he said in a low voice, resting the dream 
catcher in his lap. 

Scully was once again amazed by his answer. The way he 
sometimes answered her revealed the striking contrast between 
the boy's body and the soul inside. And this was certainly not an 
answer one would expect from a twelve year old boy! 

"Far too young and I've got to make it good", Fox 
continued. He sighed and reached into the bag to retrieve a bunch 
of feathers and some beads and iron strips. 

"Which feathers do you like best, Dana?" he asked 
excitedly, suddenly a boy again. "I like these feathers best, but 
maybe you think they're a bit too ruffled and ... which ones do you 
like, Dana?" 

Scully studied the feathers and took three. "I like these 
best", she said, handing the feathers over to him. 

"Yeah, they're great. They're quite beautiful, aren't they? 
You know, I really like feathers because they're so soft. Can you 
feel how soft they are?" Fox said, stroking her cheek with the 
feathers. She closed her eyes and focused on their softness. She 
sweared she could feel soft, gentle fingers on her cheeks, Mulder's 
fingers ... 

'Scully!' 

She started as she suddenly heard Mulder call out to her, 
his voice sounding helpless and full of tears. Her eyes flew open 
and she scanned the crowd in the street, but Mulder wasn't there. 
But he had to be, she had heard him loud and clear ... 

Fox held the feathers in his hand and looked at her with a 
frown. 

"I heard Mulder, Fox!" Scully said. 

Fox smiled broadly. "Hey, you can hear it after all then, 
can't you?" 

"Hear what?" 

"The wind. The wind carries messages on its wings and 
sometimes people can hear them!" 

"I ... I heard him say 'Scully'; it sounded as though he 
really needed me. I heard it when you ran those feathers over my 
face, I ..." 

"Well, it's his dream catcher and you chose the feathers 
...", Fox said by way of explanation as he attached the feathers to 
the dream catcher. He decorated it with the beads and the iron 
strips and held it in his hands. It was finished. "Fox spoke to you, 
didn't he?" he asked. He let the dream catcher lie on the blanket 
and looked at her. "You heard Fox talk to you, didn't you?" 

"Well", Scully began hesitatingly, "I'm sure I just imagined 
it, after all it's not possible to hear a person that way, you know ..." 

"Dana, after all you've seen, after all you've experienced, 
why can't you believe?" She heard Fox say softly and sadly. She 
looked at him in shock at hearing these too familiar words. 

"I can't ... I'm afraid to believe", she whispered, tears 
starting to roll down her cheeks. 

Fox got up from his sitting position and crawled towards 
her. "Dana, don't cry, please", he whispered, extending a small, 
very dirty hand and wiped the tears away. He smiled a hopeful 
smile at her and she answered it by smiling as well. 

"You should wash your hands a little better, Fox", she said 
with a forgiving smile. 

"Mommy says that too, but those strings make my hands 
really dirty so I can't really help it. You're not mad at me, are you, 
Dana?" 

"No, of course I'm not mad at you, Fox", Scully smiled. 

Fox grabbed the dream catcher he'd been making whilst 
talking to her and gave it to her. "I think you ought to give this 
one to Fox." 

Scully took it. "Why?" 

"You know, to keep his nightmares away. It's got his name 
all over it, it's his dream catcher, it will bring him good luck", he 
said. "Oh, and it's five dollars", he added matter-of-factly. 

Scully smiled and took a ten-dollar bill and gave to him. 
He started to look a bit uneasy. "I haven't got any change, Dana, 
you're the first one who ever bought one of my dream catchers." 

"I don't want any change. Just look at it this way: the first 
five dollars are for your mother because that's what the dream 
catcher costs and the second five dollars are all for you. The first 
few dollars that will eventually let you go to school, Fox!" 

"To school? How do you know I'm going to school?" 

Scully got up and looked down at him. "The wind tells me 
that", she said with a smile and a shrug. 

Fox smiled broadly at her as he folded the bill and stuffed 
it in his pocket. "Then the wind tells you lies, but that's okay. 
Don't forget to tell Fox about Mary!" he said, filling his old cotton 
bag with those dream catchers he hadn't sold. 

"I won't", Scully said and smiled. Then she carefully put 
the dream catcher -- Mulder's dream catcher -- in her bag and 
walked back to her car. 

She never saw Fox again.  
 
 
The End