From: Dtcsm@aol.com
Date: Sat Jul 01 21:15:51 2000
Subject: xfc: *NEW* "Dance" 1/1
Source: xfc

Title: Dance
Author: Brit*Vik
Date: 20/12/99
Category: V, UST, Scully POV
Spoilers: "Post-Modern Prometheus"
Feedback: Make a girl's day. Go on. It's free and easy and will make
one little girl very happy (but only if you're nice to me!).
E-mail: Rapunzelinthetower@talk21.com
Archive: Remember, archiving is for life, not just for Christmas. (OK,
that made more sense at Christmas when I wrote this, admittedly. But
the sentiment is still the same.) Please, *please*, PLEASE archive me.
Do I sound pathetic enough yet? 
Disclaimer: (:: exasperated sigh ::)
Weeeell, *this* Mulder and Scully belong to the realm of UST, which
doesn't appear to exist any more, so they're not the same one we see
(and drool over) on TV every week and on video/DVD whenever we so
desire.  <(:: Gulp::) Brit*Vik lowers her head and shamefully raises
tear-filled eyes.> Please don't sue. 
Rating: U
Summary: Just a little post-"Post-Modern Prometheus" that just popped
into my head. Scully's thoughts immediately after the last (undeniably
gorgeous) scene. 

Apologies for the crap, and really rather obvious, title. It's from
the line "Could I have this dance/ For the rest of my life?" from a
song that I love, about two people and a last dance, and I'm sure
someone out there knows what I'm talking about, but I can't remember
its title. If anyone can help me out, I would really appreciate it. I
think it's by someone called Anne Murray, but I might be wrong.
Anyway, I thought it was appropriate.

"DANCE"

Cher's voice dies away as the last notes of the song ebb on the edge
of my consciousness. I'm not too sure I'm sure of anything any more,
except that I am dancing with Mulder. Not just any dance. Mulder, my
partner, best friend and confidante of five years has, within the last
minute, extended his arm to me and offered me something more. I'm not
sure what yet, but I like it already. His arm is around my waist,
pulling me tightly into his body. His hand, the one holding mine, is
lightly caressing me with his long fingers. But that caress is nothing
compared to what I feel coming from his eyes. I just can't drag myself
away from them, and every now and then, the music dies away and I
start to sway, except I know that I would never fall because Mulder is
holding me so tightly. Then I snap back to reality, slightly
incredulous that this *is* reality. Every sensation is so hyper-alert
that even the hair resting on my cheek feels leaden. 

So, the music has already died away but I'm aware that we're still
dancing. I feel an uncontrollable urge to drop Mulder's hand, put both
my arms around his waist and snuggle as deep as is humanly possible
(and then some) into his chest; but that would be impractical. Because
if I got hold of Mulder now I know I would never let go; which would
be dangerous if we were, for example, chasing a gun-toting suspect or
an 'alien' with 'toxic blood'.

Mulder smiles slightly, more with his eyes than with his mouth, and
it's then that I know. I once heard it said that the mysteries of the
heart were so deep, that we never know the moment when we fall in
love, but we know the moment when we fall out of it. That's only
partly true. I know now that I am in love with Mulder (and very deeply
so, as a matter of fact), but I also know that this is not *the*
moment when I fell in love with him. I've been in love with Mulder for
a long, long time. I just don't think I've ever realised before. I
don't think so, but I can't be sure. It's like something I've always
known, and has always been a part of me, lying in wait; pulsing,
throbbing and growing, waiting to be discovered, like Carrie's
knowledge of menstruation and 'the stones'.

I know what you're thinking now. You're waiting for me to rip Mulder's
clothes off, or make some declaration of undying love, or shout it
from the rooftops and hand in my resignation to Skinner so I can spend
more 'quality' time with Mulder... but I think we both know that's not
about to happen. For one thing, we are in public and would probably be
arrested if I attempted option A. Imagine the gossip. A lady keeps
these things private, my mother has always said, and she's right. As
for the second, another song has started now, and he probably wouldn't
hear me anyway. Besides, why should I push the issue? We've been
taking our time so far, and things have been going great, so why not
carry on like that? As for the last, well, that's just horrendous. If
I handed my resignation in to Skinner to spend more time with Mulder,
Mulder would also have to hand in *his* resignation, and I could never
do that to him. Or to me. The quest for the truth is both of ours now,
and it's what bro! ught us together. It also happens to be Mulder's
life. I could never force him to leave, nor would I want to.

The song that's just begun is a rock number from the late seventies or
early eighties. Our slow dancing looks slightly out of place (not that
that's stopped us until now). Reluctantly, we pull apart. Mulder grins
and giggles, but mischievously, not self-consciously. And I know that
Mulder feels the same way. I feel secure, held in this shared but
unspoken knowledge, like the safety blanket I had until I was four and
Bill burnt it. I love Mulder and Mulder loves me. Ten minutes ago that
fact would have shocked the hell out of me, but now it's a natural as
knowing that the world is round, grass is green, the sky is blue and
red blood cells have no nuclei so do not carry DNA (hey, for me,
that's natural).

So, what will we do about this now we know? Nothing. But that's OK. We
can get used to this new dynamic without having to deal with it
properly just yet. Find our feet in the new relationship, so to speak.
I may not declare undying love today or tomorrow or in ten years time,
but it *will* happen someday. I know that for a fact. And I can't help
but smile. 

FIN

"And I take to the sky on a natural high, loving you more till the day
that I die."

"Dance, ballerina, dance, and do your pirouette
In rhythm with your aching heart,
Dance, ballerina, dance, you mustn't once forget
A dancer has to dance the part,
Once you said his love must wait its turn,
You wanted fame instead, I guess that's your concern,
We live and learn... And love is gone, Ballerina, gone."