Title: Let's Face the Music and Dance
Author: Virtues&Vices(AKA Virtie)
E-mail: virtuesandvices@aol.com
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/
Rating: Hard R for Sexual Content
Category: XR - X-File/Romance
Classification: MSR, Conspiracy/Alien Colinization
Spoilers: Lot's! If you don't know about the major
events that lead up to 'Existence', then
you better scat.
Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name stays with it
and I get to visit!
Summary: Even if you enjoyed 'Nothing Important
Happened Today' (which I did), forget it
happened. This is MY Season 9 premiere,
finished two weeks before NIHT aired.
Disclaimer: Uh, yeah. They aren't mine, I'm not making any
money from them, yada, yada, yada... The
lyrics for the songs 'Let's Face the Music and
Dance' and 'Go There with You' are used without
permission. Sorry.
Dedication: Thanks need to go to five very important people:
Al, who found me the perfect title song; Meg, who
found me another song that fit wonderfully with
the story; Yoda and KissMeMulder, who provided
encouragement and the needed corrections; and
Storm, who got me hooked on fanfic in the
first place. This is for you guys!
************************************************************
Let's Face the Music and Dance
There may be troubles ahead
But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance
Let's face the music and dance
Before the fiddlers have fled
Before they ask us to pay the bill, and while we still have
that chance
Let's face the music and dance
Soon, we'll be without the moon
Humming a different tune - and then...
There may be teardrops to shed
But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance
Let's face the music and dance, dance
Let's face the music and dance...
*****
It was like a vision of Hell.
Or, at least, what she had always envisioned Hell would be
like. Fire and brimstone. Fear and suffering. Anger and
hate. She felt it all surround her as she stood on the
hilltop overlooking the valley below. It had once been a
beautiful valley, she thought. She could still see the
skeletal remains of trees, now burnt almost beyond
recognition. And she saw what appeared to be a pond, which
had once fed water to the valley, but now sat bubbling and
steaming up into the frigid air. She breathed in deep,
amazed at how cold the air was considering the inferno below
her. She wondered vaguely how cold it would be without the
flames.
A large ball of glowing light shot by overhead, powerful
rays from some unknown weapon raining down on the already
battered ground. She felt more heat billow up from the
resulting explosions. What did they think they were doing?
she wondered. Wasn't the valley dead enough for them? Were
they trying to kill the Devil himself?
She heard a noise from behind her and turned. Coming up the
rocky trail she had just traversed (though she had no
recollection of having done so) was a man. He was tall and
lean, his bare arms well muscled, the rest of his body
covered in makeshift armor and weapons. His hair was almost
non-existent, having been clipped as short as possible in a
severe military cut. In the light emanating from the fire
below, it blazed red. His eyes also mirrored the flames,
their natural dark green color fighting to be seen.
"What the hell are you doing up here?!" he called out, his
voice as cold as steel, yet tinged with fear. "Do you think
you're indestructible, or do you just not care anymore?"
"I care!" she heard herself respond. "I care more than
you'll ever know!"
"Then get the hell away from where they can see you." He
reached out and grasped her elbow, and she let him lead her
away from the destruction behind her.
She turned one last time and looked out over the valley
floor, seeing in her mind's eye how it used to look: Green,
verdant, full of life. "It used to be so beautiful," she
said quietly.
Somehow, he heard her over the wind and the roar of the
flames. "I know, Mom. I remember."
*****
Scully's eyes flew open, the visions of fire and explosions
still imprinted on her corneas, the smell of smoke and death
still fresh in her lungs. She threw the covers off herself
and sat upright, swinging her bare legs over the side of the
bed. Still breathing hard, she reached over and flipped on
the bedside lamp, then stood on shaky legs, unconsciously
tugging the hem of her nightshirt down as she stumbled over
to the crib that sat in the corner of the room.
William lay sleeping peacefully inside. Cautiously, she
reached out and touched his cheek, assuring herself his skin
was still warm. That he was still alive and real. He moved
his head at her touch, a soft moan emanating from his open
mouth, but he didn't wake. She sighed and closed her eyes,
trying to calm her racing heart.
"Scully?"
Opening her eyes, she turned to look at the man sitting in
the bed she had just vacated. His dark hair was tousled and
his lower face was shadowed with stubble. His hazel eyes
were filled with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said quietly, careful not to disturb Will.
"Just a dream."
"A dream," he asked, "or *the* dream?"
Scully sighed again and moved back toward the bed. "It's
just a dream, Mulder," she whispered. "Don't make it out to
be more than that." She kneeled on her side of the bed. It
was amazing how quickly she had adjusted to a 'her' side,
especially after almost ten years of sleeping alone. "It's
not a vision, or a premonition, or the reincarnation of some
spirit that has taken over my mind and is waiting for the
perfect opportunity to take over my body and ravish you
until your heart stops beating and you can't breathe
anymore."
"Damn," he muttered, slowly sinking back against his pillow.
"What a way to go." He gave her a cheeky grin, which made
her grin in return as she slid back under the covers. She
reached out to extinguish the light before stretching out on
her back.
She closed her eyes, but she could feel him staring at her.
With a soft groan, she turned her back on him. "Mulder, I'm
sorry I woke you. Now, go to sleep."
He didn't respond, and she still felt his gaze on her. For a
moment, she wondered if it was her imagination, and that he
had, in fact, already fallen asleep. But if there was one
thing she had learned in the many years she had worked with
this man, it was that he never gave up easily, if at all.
And that the 'feel' of his stare was as intense as his
actual gaze.
With another groan, she sat up and turned to look at him.
He was lying on his side, leaning on his elbow, head propped
in his hand. And he was indeed staring at her.
"Quit it," she said softly but sharply.
"Quit what?"
"Quit staring at me like that. It makes me nervous."
"Why does it make you nervous?" His lips had curved into a
soft smile.
"Because, I can never tell what you're thinking when you
look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Mulder!" she said, exasperation filling her voice. "Would
you quit with the twenty questions already? I'm tired and
I'd like to go back to sleep."
"So sleep."
"I can't with you staring at me!"
"Why not?" His voice was calm, relaxed. "You do it all the
time."
She lay silent for a while, then she looked at him. "I do
what all the time?"
"Sleep while I 'stare' at you," he said, his voice becoming
husky.
His admission that he watched her while she slept should
have unsettled her, but instead it shot an arrow of arousal
down to her groin. "Mulder..."
As quick as a jungle cat after his prey, he was upon her,
pinning her to the bed beneath them. Her struggle was
halfhearted at best, and as soon as his lips and tongue
encountered the bare skin of her throat, it ceased
altogether. "Mulder..." she said again, the tone of her
voice deeper and richer this time around.
"Don't you know I watch you when you sleep, Scully?" he
whispered into her neck. "I have for years." He was
unbuttoning her nightshirt, and Scully felt herself arch up
into him as his knuckles brushed her breasts. "Only now," he
continued. "I don't have to wonder what it would be like to
touch you. To taste you." He sucked lightly on her
collarbone. "Now, I can just do it."
"Mulder?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are you going to ravish me?"
"Yep." He latched onto her now bared breast, suckling it
gently, careful not to bring forth the milk which she still
provided to their six-month-old son on a daily basis.
Scully let herself drift into the mindless ecstasy of her
lover's touch, knowing that, as much as he was enjoying it,
he was doing it to help her forget the dream; to help her
sleep peacefully. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes she slept
straight through until morning.
Sometimes, it returned. The same exact images she had dreamt
nearly every night for a month now. The nightmare that she
was beginning to fear was so much more than just a dream.
*****
It was time.
Now or never. Slowly, she made her way into the kitchen. She
had been thinking about this for some time now; about how
she would do it. What would be the quickest, most painless
way for both her and her child? She couldn't stand the
thought of stabbing him with a knife. Besides, she would
have to make sure she hit an artery, else he would probably
heal himself before he bled to death. Overdosing on drugs
had been another option. But, his stomach was so sensitive,
she knew he wouldn't be able to keep enough down to send him
into sleep forever. Drowning? No. Too much like that woman
in Texas, who had no earthly reason to do what she did to
her kids. Not like she did. But, her reason wasn't earthly,
either.
Opening the drawer next to the sink, she pulled out the
handgun she had dug out of the back of the closet earlier
today. Quick. Easy. Ray had taught her how to shoot before
she married him. But, like the knife, she would have to make
sure she aimed at an area that would ensure immediate death.
Then she would have to find the same place on her own body.
Her son could not live any longer. And she couldn't live
without her son. So tonight, they were leaving this world
together.
Cocking the weapon in her shaking hand, she turned and
headed for the bedroom her son slept in. Her mother was
staying with friends in Eugene tonight, so it was just her
and R.J. Silently, she moved down the hall. She quietly
pushed open the door to the bedroom. He was laying there,
still and innocent in sleep. If only he hadn't been born,
she thought. If only he had been born normal.
With a deep breath, she raised the gun, aiming it for the
little boy's head. His eyes opened. Widened. "I'm sorry,"
she whispered, though she knew she didn't need to say
anything out loud to him. "I'm sorry."
Her finger tightened on the trigger.
*****
When Scully entered the main doors to her apartment complex,
one arm wrapped around a brown bag full of groceries, she
heard the booming bass immediately. Actually, she didn't
hear it, but instead felt the throbbing beat through the
floor. She sighed and rolled her eyes, glad it was only a
little after 4:30 in the afternoon else she would be calling
her landlord to complain. She made her way to her apartment,
slowly realizing as she drew closer that the familiar,
repetitive beat was emanating from behind *her* door.
Mouth agape, she opened it, meeting Queen's 'We Will Rock
You' face to face. With a grimace, she glanced down the hall
to insure no one was going blame her for the noise, then
walked through the door, slamming it behind her.
"Mulder!"
No answer. Of course not. He probably couldn't hear her over
the noise. At least, that was the excuse she knew he would
use. She set the bag down on the counter, a little too hard,
and put her hands on her hips, glaring at the man in the
kitchen. His back was to her, so he didn't see her. Then
again, she thought with growing amusement, he was a little
distracted.
Mulder was dancing and singing along with the song, sliding
around the linoleum floor on his socks, his hips swaying and
his head bouncing in time with the triple beat blaring from
her stereo. William, sitting in his high chair nearby, was
trying valiantly to imitate his father, but was a little off
the beat. Make that far off the beat, she thought, a grin
overtaking her frown as the red haired baby pounded the tray
in front of him a little too fast.
Mulder, who was attempting to make dinner as he danced,
turned to face Will. "You got mud on your face!" he sang,
slightly off key. "A big disgrace!" He reached over and
tapped Will on the nose, creating a huge grin on the little
boy's face. Turning back to the counter, he wiggled his hips
again, and Scully's grin turned to a full blown smile as she
eyed his tight butt, outlined perfectly by his well-worn
jeans. Using the slick floor to his advantage, he spun
around, stopping with a shocked look on his face when he
spotted Scully.
"Oh, sh--" He glanced at Will. "Shoot!"
Biting her lower lip, Scully turned toward the stereo,
shaking her head slightly as she turned it off. Then she
turned to face her former partner and current live-in lover,
her eyebrows raised, arms folded across her chest.
"Hi, Scully!" Mulder said with forced cheerfulness. "My,
you're home early. I thought you had a meeting."
Will had turned to look when the music had quit, and
realizing his mother was there, he began pounding the tray
in earnest, another huge grin splitting his face in two.
Scully walked toward the baby, whose arms were now stretched
in her direction. Picking him up from the chair, Scully
answered, "It was canceled. So this is what you two do when
I leave you alone all day. It's a wonder we haven't been
evicted."
Mulder braced his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing.
"Now, wait just a minute. We were just getting psyched up
for our guests tonight. Both Will and I find it relaxing
to..." He seemed to be struggling for a word or phrase to
describe the loud music and dancing.
"Lose you hearing?" Scully finished for him, her tone
serious, though she wasn't really mad. Then she replayed his
words in her mind. "What guests?"
Mulder grinned. The same kind of grin he used to give her
just before telling her of an outrageous case he had
committed himself and her to when they had both been a part
of the X-Files. "It's a good thing you got home early,
Scully. It's much easier telling you this face to face
instead of over the phone."
Scully felt dread seep into every crevice of her body. Since
Mulder had moved in after the baby's birth, her home life
had been more than interesting. Of course, for the first few
months, sleep had been rare because of Will, and arguments
had been a regular occurrence, but they had never held much
real anger. And both were so much more content than either
had imagined sharing the same abode. The same bathroom. The
same kitchen. The same bed.
When Will had turned three months old, Scully had returned
to work, but not to the X-Files. Agent Monica Reyes had been
working with Agent Doggett since Will's birth, and both
Scully and Skinner agreed that Reyes should stay on the
project; Scully wasn't too thrilled with the idea of
returning to such a dangerous vocation now that she had a
child. She had settled into motherhood easily. Now, she was
back to teaching at the Academy...and still very active with
assisting with the X-Files at Doggett's request.
Mulder, on the other hand, seemed to have no inclination to
go back to work. Any kind of work. For the last six months,
he had been completely content to be Mr. Mom, only
half-heartedly looking for work. Reyes often came to him for
advice on certain cases, which he gave without question, but
he was never excited or enthused about helping with an
X-File. His behavior worried Scully, and she would have
questioned him about it long ago if he hadn't seemed so
happy. And he was. He was undeniably happy. Only Scully's
recurring nightmare seemed to worry him; it was during the
rare moments when she talked about them that the old Mulder,
the intense, serious Mulder, returned.
Now, even though he was grinning, she noticed the strain
around his eyes and the darkness underneath their humorous
glow. "Mulder? Who's coming to dinner?"
"Your mom," he said. But before Scully could sigh in relief,
he continued. "And Bill and his family."
*****
How in the hell had he gotten himself into this mess?
Mulder asked himself this question for the seventeenth time
in the last forty minutes, the amount of time Scully's
brother had been present in their apartment. The man hadn't
even said anything degrading. In fact, on the outside, he
seemed the perfect gentleman. But Mulder had seen the
distaste and anger in the other man's eyes; eyes so similar
and yet so very different from Scully's. And he could feel
it. He didn't know whether he was happy Bill was keeping his
hatred to himself, thereby keeping the peace, or whether he
hoped the man would pick a fight so they could get it over
with.
When Maggie had called him that afternoon telling him Bill
and his family were in town, he had immediately found
himself on the defense. And yet, he was looking forward to
the challenge, as well. So, when Maggie had asked him if he
and Scully would join them for dinner at her place, the
little devil on Mulder's shoulder had requested they come to
the apartment instead. Maggie, who had been by for dinner
several times in the last few months, agreed readily.
But, even Maggie seemed different tonight. She had always
gotten along with him in the past, and since his
relationship with her daughter had surpassed the
professional, she had treated him like another son. Tonight,
however, he noticed that while she was talking and smiling
and keeping up with the conversation moving around the
table, she refused to look him in the eye. For some reason,
this unnerved him greatly.
Bill's wife Tara was an enigma as well. He had only met the
perky blonde once, at Emily's funeral more than three years
ago. She had been depressed about the child's death, and
exhausted over her own child's birth, so he knew her
behavior that day hadn't been normal. Despite her laughter
and bubbly personality this evening, he sensed an
undercurrent of tension in her whole being. It was very
subtle, but it was there. Unlike her mother-in-law, she did
meet his eyes, but she never let her gaze linger, and more
often than not, she would look at Bill with something like
guilt afterwards. It was almost as if she wanted to befriend
him, to like him, but was afraid Bill wouldn't approve.
Mulder was very tempted to look beyond what he could see
with his eyes to find out what he should expect from this
meal, but he had promised Scully long ago that he would not
take advantage of the people around him by 'stealing their
secrets'. That's what Scully called it, anyway. It was a
great way to keep Mulder and his growing talent in check.
He knew that Scully seemed to sense the strain, as well,
though she herself was very relaxed. That's my Scully, he
thought. Nothing ever got her riled without a very good
reason.
Matthew, Bill and Tara's three-year-old son, was the only
one at the table that evening who didn't seem to be anything
other than himself. Mulder studied the boy, wondering if
Will would grow to look like this child. The cousins shared
the same hair color, the Scully red, but Matthew had
inherited his father's blue eyes. Just in the last month,
Will's eyes had darkened to a rich hazel, with more green
than brown, and flecks of gold. Scully had been overjoyed by
the change. Mulder had been as well, though he didn't tell
her so.
Mulder had made a simple meal of spaghetti, with a fresh
tossed salad and garlic bread on the side. He was a fair
chef, who had improved greatly since Scully had returned to
work and he had taken on the majority of the cooking, but he
had not wanted to attempt anything elaborate tonight. Now,
as he watched Matthew play with his pasta, he wondered if he
shouldn't have chosen something a little less messy. No one
seemed concerned that the boy preferred using his hands to
eat the noodles, covering his fingers and face with the
sauce. Mulder was glad Will had fallen asleep shortly after
the Scully family's arrival, else the boy would be learning
some unwanted mannerisms from his cousin.
Scully and her mother handled the clean-up before dessert,
with Scully telling Mulder to relax since he had done the
cooking. Mulder felt even more uncomfortable as his
trustworthy back-up for the last eight years left him to
check on the baby just as they were getting started on the
brownies and ice cream. Conversation stilled.
Tara was the first to speak. "So, Fox," she paused, but
Mulder didn't bother correcting her. She was, after all,
family. Kind of. "Dana told me a while back you were
considering writing a book. That sounds wonderful."
Mulder felt his face heat. A book? In actuality, he had made
some wry comment to Scully several weeks ago about how if he
wrote a book on their adventures with the X-Files, no one
would buy it because they wouldn't believe any of it. When
Scully had told him they could market it as Fiction, he had
laughed. "Yeah. Then people would complain the stories were
too far fetched and silly." He had never seriously
considered putting anything about his life down on paper,
and he knew Scully knew this.
"Well, I've thought about it," he lied. "But I'm no writer."
That was Bill's cue. "You're not much of anything, as far as
I can see." The husky man looked about him. "You do keep a
clean house, though." He met Mulder's gaze with his own, the
challenge there.
Mulder just smiled. "Thanks. It'll be nicer when it actually
becomes a house."
That got Maggie's attention. "You two are thinking about
buying a house?" Mulder knew why the woman sounded so
excited. A house meant a commitment. Not quite marriage, but
close. It meant he wasn't thinking about leaving her
daughter anytime soon. How could he explain to her that he
would never willingly leave Scully? Married or not, she was
his and he was hers. Forever, as far as he was concerned.
"We've considered it, yes," Mulder responded.
"And how exactly are you going to afford a house?" Bill
asked. Mulder looked back at him. He looked formidable,
elbows on the table, hands folded in front of him, his chin
resting on them. His eyebrows were raised in question.
"My job pays well," Scully said from behind him, having
heard her brother's question while on her way back from the
bedroom. "And Mulder inherited a buttload from his mother."
Mulder was both irritated by and grateful for her
interruption. While he knew he could never live without her
back-up, some fights he really wanted to handle by himself.
"I'll be working again soon," he added, glancing up at
Scully as she lightly touched his shoulder in passing before
moving back to her own chair. He didn't miss the surprised
look on her face, but she covered it well, and he knew the
others hadn't noticed.
"Really?" Bill continued, his disbelief evident in his
voice. "Doing what?"
Copying Bill's posture, Mulder brought his elbows up to the
table, folded his hands and leaned his chin on them, giving
Bill what he hoped was a mysterious smile. "That information
is classified."
He heard Scully snort with laughter, and soon her
sister-in-law was also giggling. Maggie smiled, but her
eyes, he noticed, looked haunted.
"Bill," Scully said. "We are doing fine. Mulder isn't living
off my income, nor is he not busy. Do you know how wonderful
it is not to have to send Will to daycare?" She glanced at
her mother. "And Mom already raised four kids. She doesn't
need another." With a soft smile, she reached over and took
one of Mulder's hands in hers. "We are doing fine."
Watching Bill's impassive face, Mulder returned the squeeze
Scully gave his hand. But, despite her words, he felt guilt
and depression fill him. They were doing fine, but could
they be doing better? He knew Scully sometimes watched him
with a worried expression, and he wondered if she missed the
old Mulder. The obsessive, married-to-his-work Mulder. He
didn't. At least, not very often. He sometimes felt like he
was a bear in hibernation. Waiting, not for spring, but for
something not nearly so sweet. He needed to keep his mind
and body fit, which he did by running, weight lifting and
reading every chance he got. But, he didn't know quite what
he was waiting for.
Tara changed the subject, and once again conversation
flowed. It wasn't any less tense than before, but it went
smoothly. Mulder excused himself first, insisting that he do
the dishes. He didn't rush the job, and by the time he was
done, the rest of the Scullys were ready to leave. Tara gave
him a peck on the check, and Matthew high-fived him. Bill
just nodded, so Mulder simply nodded back.
Maggie came forward for a hug, which he returned willingly.
While she was in his embrace, she whispered, "You know, Bill
might be a little warmer toward you if you married my
daughter."
He smiled and pulled away. "I'm not the one you should be
talking to, then," he said softly.
"I'm trying, I'm trying," the older woman said, a hint of a
whine in her voice. It reminded him of Scully when she
wasn't getting her way. She glanced at her daughter and
shook her head, clearly frustrated.
Scully, who had heard none of the conversation, looked at
them, her brow furrowed.
With a final kiss on his cheek, Maggie turned to leave. "You
better keep trying, too, Fox." Her voice was stern, now.
Mulder gave her a mock salute. "Aye, aye, ma'am." Maggie
laughed and left, closing the door behind her.
Mulder turned to see Scully watching him with a frown, her
arms folded in front of her. "What was that about?"
"Nothing," Mulder told her with a smirk. He headed for the
couch. "Just your mom trying to get me to make an honest
woman of you."
He heard Scully's resigned sigh behind him. He let himself
fall full-length on the couch, emitting a groan of
exhaustion. "I was so sure Bill was going to do a lot more
than what he did." He flung his arm over his eyes.
He felt Scully sit down on the edge of the couch next to his
hip. He jumped slightly as he felt her hand rest on his
chest. Typical reaction to her touch these days, he thought
wryly. Before Will's birth, before his abduction, when they
had been just starting to learn about each other sexually,
and still working together to boot, her touch had been rare
and treasured. It certainly wasn't rare anymore, but it
still enflamed him like nothing ever had before or since.
Especially since his brave, independent,
I-can-look-out-for-myself Scully rarely initiated sex. This
didn't mean she was a passive lover. Far from it. But, she
still seemed to be afraid of rejection. As if he would ever
reject her. As if he could.
He knew her shyness arose from both her Catholic upbringing,
and her past relationships, which all seemed to involve
dominant men. Of course, Mulder had been working on changing
the way she approached sex. Knowing how uninhibited she
became once passion took over, he was convinced it wouldn't
take much for her to become the aggressor from time to time.
Apparently, one of those times was now.
She carefully pulled herself along his length, lying fully
on top of him. Mulder dropped his arm to look at her,
dismayed at the look of uncertainty in her eyes. He didn't
bother to say anything. He simply lifted his hips slightly.
Her eyes widened and they met his. She had felt his
erection, which was already growing simply because she was
touching him. "Mulder?" she whispered, the uncertainty gone.
"Hmm?"
"You know I love you, don't you?" She kissed his chin.
"Yeah," he said, bringing his hands around to lightly place
them on her butt.
"And you know that I would love to marry you, right?"
Did he? He had asked. More than once, in fact. She had
turned him down every time. "Well, yeah," he said, and he
couldn't help the sarcasm that slipped though. "You're just
wanting a really, REALLY long courtship."
She had been nuzzling his chin, but at his words she
stopped. He looked at her. Her eyes were sad, but anger sat
just underneath the surface. "I do, Mulder. I do want to
marry you." She sighed and looked away. "Just not yet."
Will's impatient cry echoed from down the hall. "He probably
needs to be changed," Scully said softly, pushing herself
away from him and standing. "He went to sleep too early
tonight." Without looking at him, she walked away, leaving
him alone, sprawled on the couch and half aroused.
"Looks like we're both waiting for something unknown,
Scully."
*****
End Part 1/7