Live the Dream (1 of 3) Anna Chait arc42@webtv.net Rating: PG-13 Category: V, R, H, A (mostly MSR) Spoilers: None Keywords: MSR Summary: A party at the French Embassy puts a man in Scully's path who could destroy Mulder's dreams for the future. PLEASE POST TO GOSSAMER. ANY OTHER ARCHIVE OR MAILING LIST REQUEST PERMISSION. Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not my creations. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. No copyright infringement is intended. The character of Francois DePaul I stole from a movie I saw once. No infringement intended with him either (although it might be?.nevermind). Feedback is like chocolate, you can never get enough. arc42@webtv.net ********************************* LIVE THE DREAM (1 / 3) By Anna Chait It was bound to happen, he kept telling himself. Someday she'd find someone. She'd meet someone and fall in love and leave and he knew it was only a matter of time. Years had gone by and still they had not opened their hearts to each other. He'd had a lot of time to tell her how he felt about her and he really had no one to blame. They'd been partners for nearly six years. Six years at the FBI as special agents investigating the X-files. Together they had seen and done things that forged a bond between them that was hard to break. Abduction, loss, cancer, life threatening injuries, serial killers, conspiracies and extraterrestrials; experiences that created an extraordinary closeness and at the same time allowed for certain things to be taken for granted. When one of them called, the other came running. It was understood. In all this time it seldom occurred to him to look for female companionship beyond their cases and the infrequent personal time that Scully gave him. He never seemed to need it. Oh, occasionally he longed for someone next to him in his bed, to hear her soft sighs and whispers. Every now and then he'd like to be able to roll over into the safe haven of a woman's arms, someone to hold and hold him. Someone who for a short time could make him forget his life. When these urges overwhelmed him, there seemed to be no lack of women volunteering. Occasionally he'd ask someone out, but after a single night he realized that they were only stand-ins for his flame-haired partner. Now she was something to dream about. And that was it. He could live on his dreams. Maybe Scully couldn't. Maybe he should ask her what her dreams were. Slow down, he cautioned. It was only a date and a first date at that. He hoped he'd been able to hide his surprise when she told him. He wondered if the panic he felt made it's way to his face. ***************************** The Previous Week "So, you want to get something on the way home?" They did that a lot. It was a comfortable routine they had fallen into. A small smile crossed her lips and she looked away, still gathering papers to put in her briefcase. "Can't, Mulder. Not tonight." She slipped the papers in, snapped the case shut and stood waiting. She knew what would come next as surely as she knew her own name. "Gotta date, Scully?" There was more than a little sarcasm in his voice, and something else she wasn't sure about. What surprised her was the momentary shock on his face. It passed quickly to be replaced by disappointment. "Yes, Mulder, I do. A nice man I met at a party last week." She shared this information gently. He was pretty territorial where she was concerned. Oh yeah, he thought to himself. Last week she went to that embassy thing with brother Charlie. Mulder wanted to interrogate her about this "nice man" but knew better. Scully would not be open to such questions and he had no right to ask. She had a right to see men. He certainly had no claims on her. He wanted to, though. He wanted to be the man in her life, and he had been for nearly six years. He was comfortable with it and most of the time didn't want things to change. He liked their relationship the way it was, he supposed. They were the best of friends. He was closer to her than he had been to anyone, ever. But sometimes he wondered what it would be like to run his mouth up and down the creamy column of her neck. What would she feel like in his arms?..willling?.don't go there, Mulder. She can read your mind when you start down that path. For him, the risks involved in escalating their relationship were great. If they became lovers they might quarrel and break up. Where would that leave their partnership? Was risking the partnership worth it? He asked himself this question over and over and eventually got tired and gave up. Best to let it go and leave things the way they were. Wasn't it? Now she was going out with someone and it wasn't him. "Well, have fun Scully. I'll see you on Monday." "Sure. Have a good weekend?." She called after him. He was out the door and gone quickly, leaving it open behind him. As if, he told himself, pounding the elevator button several times before giving up and taking the stairs. As if the weekend could be enjoyed while thinking about Scully out with a man. *********************************** Her brother had introduced her to Francois. Captain Charles Scully was a military attache with the state department now, and he invited her to the embassy party. Usually embassy parties were as dull as rocks, but Charlie had only been in Washington a few weeks, not enough time to meet any presentable women, or so he said. As she recalled, Charlie was a "babe-magnet", as Mulder might say. It was your usual embassy function. Politicians and diplomats, dancing and mingling and pressing the flesh. This one was being given for the new French ambassador, a sort of welcome-to-the neighborhood party. Scully recognized some of the faces though she rarely mixed in embassy circles. Politicians seemed to mix it up with everyone, even the FBI. "Come on, Dana. There is someone I want you to meet." Charlie clutched her elbow and began to propel her through the crowd. "Oh, you've met someone. Why did you have to drag me out if?" "No, it's not what you think. This is a man. A Frenchman. I believe he owns a vineyard." She turned to stare at her little brother. Even he thought she needed help meeting men. "Really, Charlie, you don't need to?" she stopped mid sentence as a strikingly handsome man made his way through the crowd to them. If this is the guy, she thought, I'm in trouble. She quickly ran her tongue over her front teeth to make sure none of her favorite red lipstick clung to them. "There you are, Captain Scully." He said taking Charlie's hand and shaking it briefly. Dana was aware that even as he spoke to Charlie, his eyes were on her. Intensely. "Monsieur DePaul, I would like to present my sister, Dr. Dana Scully." They had agreed that they would not mention to anyone at an embassy function that she worked for the FBI. You never knew who you were speaking to. "Enchante', Dr. Scully." He murmurred, taking her hand. For a moment she was sure he would kiss her hand, but he bought it to his chest briefly, enfolding it in both his hands. "Dana, this is Monsieur Francois DePaul. Monsieur DePaul owns one of the ?." "Largest vineyards in France." She finished for him. "And the most celebrated, I believe. It's lovely to meet you Monsieur." She said, smiling that toothy smile that rarely found it's way to her lips. Francois DePaul was a notorious recluse. He seldom left his chateau or his country. What was he doing at an Embassy party? "Your brother has told me that you are in forensic medicine, I believe?" "Yes." She responded, a bit disappointed that his first question had been about her job. Why was it that in most men's eyes a person was defined by their job? "I had expected someone a bit different. A shame such beauty and presence is wasted on corpses." She swallowed a chuckle and smiled at him. A Frenchmen indeed. The conversation proceeded to more neutral topics, then he asked her to dance. It had been a long time since she danced with anyone. He was a good dancer; smooth and confident. They talked about the weather and wine, and eventually he'd asked to see her again. He was hard to resist. Tall and handsome, lean like Mulder, but classically European where her partner was all-American. His hair was long to his ears, and waved over his forehead. He wore a beautifully cut, white dinner jacket and expensive shoes. Yep, he was trouble, and why would she resist? ********************************** That had been a week ago. She'd tried to casually broach the subject of the Frenchman several times with Mulder, but chickened out. She knew that if she opened it up for conversation, her partner would grill her about this man, or worse, tease her. She wanted to see Francois again. Hell, she wanted to go out like other people did. She wanted to enjoy herself away from the FBI and autopsies and death. And if it wasn't going to be with Mulder?well, she had a right. And she wanted more. The symphony was performing outdoors, a concert of Chopin and Bach. It promised to be a beautiful lspring evening and she was looking forward to it. Francois arrived in a limo dressed causally, with a light supper tucked away in a basket for later. It had been such a long time since she'd heard the symphony and she hoped it wasn't completely obvious. It was a beautiful night. Her companion was most charming; it was wonderful being the focus of attention of one man for an evening. After the concert they walked by the river. He would be leaving the following week. He had only been in the country at the invitation of his sister, who, as it turned out, was the wife of the new French ambassador "I like your city. It's exciting and interesting. Reminds me of Paris." He nodded at the river, which this evening was jammed with pleasure craft. Scully had never been to Paris, but dreamed of going. But you needed to be in love to visit Paris, didn't you? Could one walk the streets of one of the most romantic cities of Europe alone and not lament the lack of a hand to hold, resent the absence of a partner to share a glass of wine in a cozy downtown bistro? No, in her mind that the old saying about Paris when it sizzles referred to days and night with a lover, not Monmarte in August alone. How could someone from the city of lights think Washington D.C. was exciting? What other city on the planet compared with Paris? She had thought about it often, envisioned walking along the Siene, counting the bridges. She tried to pull herself back to the here and now. "Do you visit often?" "No, Dana, I don't. I seldom leave France. I came at my sister's special request. But I could be persuaded to return more often, if I had a reason to." He had a killer smile and a way of looking at her as though she were the most important thing to him. Perhaps for this evening it were true. "May I see you again?" She considered this for a moment. He'd asked for no commitment, he'd not tried to kiss her, made no advances. But he would come all the way here to see her? That was a commitment on his part surely. "Francois, I know you know I am not married and not involved with anyone. And knowing my brother I'm sure he filled you in on any men in my life?perhaps we could go somewhere and talk?" She wanted to think about what to say, and a drive somewhere would serve to divert his attention long enough for her to compose her thoughts. "Perhaps a drink? A cup of coffee? What would mademoiselle care for?" "Coffee would do. There is a nice place not far." What should she tell him? How to say what needed to be said was her problem. Before she realized it they were across the river and in Georgetown with it's many colonial style pubs. Francois ordered coffee for them both, and waited for her to begin. He slowly stirred his coffee, waiting for her to speak. When she didn't he decided to get things going. "I gather this is the place where you tell me that I am a very nice man, but you are not interested?" Actually, she was interested. For the first time in a long time. "No, that is not what I wanted to say. My brother did'nt lie to you when he told you I am a doctor. I am. But I work for the FBI as a forensic pathologist. My partner and I are very close. To tell the truth I always hoped, well?.at some point I sort of hoped that it would be different between us. We've been through a lot together." Francois smiled and nodded his head. There was no anger, no jealousy, not even disappointment on his face or in his eyes. Just interest and perhaps concern. So different from Mulder. "He's not interested in you? Foolish man." "I don't know. But I know that I am tired of waiting for him to decide. I want more out of my life. I need more. I am telling you this because I don't want you to go to the expense and bother of travelling when I am not sure about anything." He laughed. "It would not be a bother for me Dana. The prospect of coming back to see you intrigues me." "Well, as I said, I'm not promising anything." He took her hand and kissed it. "I can live with that I believe. Now, let me get you home, I'm sure it's been a long day for you." "Thank you, Francois." Someone was actually enjoying her company, concerned that she was enjoying herself. It was exhilarating. You really do need to get a life Dana she chided herself. Later, after she had washed her face and was looking for that certain comfortable spot in the bed, she reflected on what it might be like to date again. It was at once exciting and frightening. End of part 1 of 3 *********************** LIVE THE DREAM (2 / 3) By Anna Chait They dodged the topic of the weekend for an hour. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted to know, yet at the same time dying to know. Dying to know if he still had a chance. "So, now to the topic we've cleverly avoided,?. the weekend. How'd the date go?" he asked, then held his breath. "I want to tell you about him, I do. But I, uh, get the feeling that there might be some reason you don't really want to know. Hmmm?" she asked, slipping into his chair at the desk, watching him busy himself with things that didn't need doing. "I asked you, didn't I?" he responded, a little too sharply. Regretting his tone, he turned to her and softened his approach. " I do want to know. You can tell me, Scully. I'm your friend and I am interested." You're an idiot, Fox Mulder, he repeated to himself like a mantra. Sit down and listen to your friend, you're very best friend; she has something she wants to share with you. Don't be a jerk. "Charlie introduced me to him at the Embassy party. His name is Francois DePaul." His jaw dropped, and his heart sank. "The Francois DePaul? The one who owns half of France and makes a marginal merlot?" "Yep. That's the one. Anyway, he's very nice. He took me to a concert." The knife slipped in so easily. A charming Frenchman. A wealthy, charming Frenchman. A wealthy, charming Frenchman who likes classical music. Well, he thought, that's about as far away from me as she could go. While he recovered, his partner casually launched into a description of Francois. "He seems to be somewhat of a recluse. He told me he seldom leaves France. His sister is the wife of the new French Ambassador and she invited him for this party??" Mulder leaned back in his chair and absently spun a pencil on the desk. It gave him something to focus on as he listened with one ear as Sully proceeded. "He took me to the Bach concert down on the river. It was so nice to be able to get away from here and?." She stopped. Had she almost said it was nice to get away from him? Now the knife twisted painfully. Maybe they did spend too much time together. He didn't realize that he had cut her off mid- sentence when he asked when DePaul was going back to France. Scully knew he'd have a hard time with this, so she let it go. But it bothered her. He didn't want her, that much was obvious, but he couldn't see her with anyone else? ************************************ She tossed and turned in her bed for an hour before giving up. She made a cup of herbal tea and sat in the chair by the window for a while. Thinking. How did she know that Mulder didn't want her? Well, he'd certainly had enough time to declare himself. Sometimes she was sure about what she thought he felt. And other times, she wondered if she had been mistaken. Her relationship with her partner was very complicated. Finally, tired of thinking about a situation with no solution, she returned to her bed and fell asleep. She dreamed that evening of dancing with a faceless man under the steel framework of the Eiffel tower. ********************************** Sleep eluded him as well, but that was not unusual for him. All of his thoughts about the present included Dana Scully. But did he think beyond tomorrow? Did he have dreams of a sweet future? Why had he never asked her about her dreams? Friends shared these things, didn't they? Not that he had that many friends, but surely they discussed their dreams for the future. His wish was granted the following week as they returned from an out of town court appearance. They had collected their bags and he left her with the luggage to fetch his car. It was after nine when he pulled the car to the curb at her building. She invited him in for an omlette because she knew he wouldn't eat. He'd go straight home and hit the couch, too tired to cook for himself, too tired to call out and wait for the delivery, and certainly too tired to stop on the way. After quickly preparing the food, they ate. They were tired, but too keyed up to think about sleep. She sat on the couch poking through the three-day accumulation of mail while Mulder flipped through the channels hoping for basketball scores. "Look Scully! Fantasy Island reruns. Did you watch this show when you were a kid?" She looked up over the paper at the familiar opening for the show. "Sure. Melissa and I used to spend hours weaving these complicated fantasies that they could use on the show." He chuckled. Somehow he knew that Scully would have watched this show, dreaming all her teen-dreams. She noted the chuckle. "Let me guess. All your fantasies probably involved Charlie's Angels." "Close. I was a big Wonder Woman fan." Figured. A busty chick in red leather boots with a whip. Well, in Wonder Woman's case it was a lasso, but in Mulder's fevered adolescent brain it would be a whip. She put down her newspaper and turned her attention to him. "I should have known. Seriously, Mulder. Don't you have something that you think of as your fondest desire? And I don't mean sex fantasies or anything. No blonde babes in g-strings. I mean earnest desires about your future maybe, or something you'd like to accomplish." His greatest desire was to pin down the truth about his sister, but she already knew that. After that, his desires usually involved her. He'd like to see her really happy. What would it be like for her to be ridiculously, deliriously happy? What would she be like? For lack of an acceptable answer, he turned the question back to her. "I'll have to think on that. How about you? No, let me guess. You'd like to win the Nobel prize for Science, or discover a cure some disease." She gave him that exasperated, oh-you-think-you're-so- smart look and picked up the remote control and switched off the sound. "No, nothing quite so lofty. I always had this dream about going to Paris. Since I was very young." "Really? You're a big girl now. Just take a vacation and go to Paris." She settled back into the cushions and crossed her arms over her chest, staring out the window at the rain. "No. You need to be in love to see Paris properly." She said, almost as a sigh with the briefest suggestion of a smile. Before he could think about it, before his mind could analyze the effects his next words would have, and surprised he actually said them aloud, words fell out of his mouth that he would regret. "Perhaps Monsieur DePaul??" She blinked slowly and cut her eyes in his direction before replying flatly. "Perhaps." She stood, moving toward the door. "I'm tired now Mulder. Time for you to go home." He berated himself all the way home. She'd opened the door for him as she had so many times and what did he do? Made yet another flip remark. Good job, idiot. ************************************ The Frenchman was back in a week. This time with tickets to the Ballet?in New York. And dinner, probably in some exclusive restaurant. Pretty stiff competition. On the barstool in Georgetown that had become his second home, he convinced himself that it was time to put up or shut up. He needed to make up his mind about his partner and follow through on it. Risk it. As soon as she comes back from New York, go to her. Tell her that all of your dreams for the future include her. Open your heart to her before it's too late. Tell her how much she means to you. How without her you're not complete. But it was already too late. She returned from New York with that look. That look that said she might be in love. And Mulder returned to the barstool hoping for some new inspiration. All he was able to obtain was a hangover, and the determination to let Scully discover love with DePaul if that's what she wanted. ************************************ Charlie was not happy with this situation at all. Dana was getting closer to DePaul and Mulder was drowning his sorrows nightly. He had hoped that she would come to the conclusion that Mulder was "the one" on her own. He liked Agent Mulder. He liked his irreverent outlook and dry wit. He never understood Bill's dislike for the man. Bill always took the older brother role too much to heart. But it was all falling apart now. He hated to meddle, but meddling might be required. He'd waited outside Mulder's apartment for an hour before giving up. He knew where to find him. It was a nice place really. Old, faintly colonial. Lots of wood, not dark and smokey like most bars. And sure enough, Special Agent Mulder was seated alone at the long oak bar. In front of him were 3 empty shot glasses lined up like toy soldiers. Charlie took the stool beside him and ordered a beer. Mulder didn't turn his head, but looked at the man next to him out of the corner of his eye. "Captain Scully. What are you doing here?" "Been looking for you. I thought I might find you here." Mulder straightened his spine and turned, trying to focus his attention on Scully's brother. He was having a hard time remembering if this was the brother that liked him, or the one who'd shoot him on sight if murder weren't a felony. "And why would you be looking for me? Want to hear some abduction stories? How about the one where I was held in a Russian Gulag?" "Just how long are you going to wait before you go after my sister?" Might as well cut to the chase. Mulder looked at him again. That arched eyebrow, the pale red hair?just like Scully. "Go after her? Is she in trouble?" Charles Scully shook his head slowly. "You know Mulder, for years I've been hearing how brilliant you are. From Dana and my Mom, they both think you are pretty smart. I don't see it." Mulder chuckled and motioned to the bartender for a re-fill. "I have diplomas and certificates, maybe you'd like to see them sometime." "A diploma proves nothing. Right now what I see is an idiot letting the most wonderful woman in the world slip through his fingers." Mulder set down his glass and turned his body, stool and all, to face the other man. "Okay, Charlie, spit it out. You obviously came here to say something to me. Take your best shot. I guess it's your turn." "I didn't come her to chew you out but to tell you that if you have any idea in your mind about my sister, you better get off the dime and do something quick." Charlie knew he had Mulder's complete attention now. "I've watched the two of you together. I never saw two people try harder to deny their feelings." "So you're saying Scully has feelings for me?" This was not exactly news to him. What her reaction would be to his feelings was the big question. "She's been waiting for you to say something, and I suppose that's your story as well? This is where the rubber meets the road, my friend. If you love my sister, you've got to tell her. Risk it. At this point what have you got to lose?" "Scully's in love with another man and I think it's only fair that she have the opportunity?" "You're scared, aren't you?" He had discovered Mulder's secret. Fox Mulder who stepped in the way of unspeakable danger on a regular basis was afraid of a 5 foot 2 inch redhead. The two men stared each other down for a while before continuing. "And what if I am?" he said, his voice lower. "It's too late for us." He murmured then turned back to the bar. Charlie sat quietly, trying to decide just what to do next. He would like to lock them in a motel room somewhere, but short of doing just that he couldn't force them to talk. "Well, if that's what you think. I tried." He got up and headed for the door. "Charlie?wait." Charlie stopped and turned back. Mulder's eyes pleaded with him for something. "What should I do?" he asked, his voice husky and thick with emotion. Captain Scully shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I think you know what to do." He considered briefly what he might do. He'd dreamed many times of the life he might have with Dana Scully, but just how they would get there remained a mystery to him. Neither of them were very forthcoming with their inmost feelings. "But will it work?" "I can't answer that. No one can going in. You play your hand and take your chances and if it's good it works." Mulder put out his hand and Charlie took it. Something good passed between them while as they shook hands. If Charlie Scully was pulling for him, perhaps that offset the fact that Bill Scully hated him. And he was pretty sure Mrs. Scully liked him. Maybe with these things in his corner there was enough good karma to tilt the balance of things in his direction. Perhaps his dreams were more attainable than he believed. "Thanks, Charlie." "Make her happy, Mulder. I think you're the only one who can." Please God that is true, he mused watching Scully's brother walk out the door. Please, God. End of part 2 of 3 ************************** Live the Dream (3 of 3) By Anna Chait ************************** Later that week The tickets arrived shortly after nine Wednesday evening. A round trip ticket to Paris and reservations at the Georges V. There was no card, nothing to identify the sender. It had to be Francois. A long weekend in Paris! And with a man she?well she liked him, anyway. She thought once or twice maybe she was in love with him, but she knew it wasn't true. She didn't love him. There was only one man she loved. Damn you, Mulder. Why can't I get you out of my heart? I want to be free of you, I want a life of my own. No. The more she thought, the more she realized she didn't want to be free of him at all. She wanted him more than ever, wanted a life with him. They were bound together, it seemed, by some unseen force. Why had Mulder formed no attachments to any women in all this time? And herself, why had she not been able to find love among the many fascinating men she came in contact with? Because they belonged together and the fates would not have it any other way. That's it, she thought to herself. I'll have to go to Paris this weekend and tell Francois that I can't go on seeing him. Then I'll come home and have it out with Mulder. That's the way it has to be. And if he knows what's good for him, he'll go along with the program. With this settled in her mind, she began to pack. Now, how to tell Mulder she was going to France, but not for the reason he would think. But it wouldn't really matter, his pouting and snooping, because when she got home they'd have all of this straightened out. Thursday morning she broke the news to him. "A long weekend, hmm? Where, the shore? Jersey, or maybe the Carolina's? Myrtle Beach is really nice, I hear." "Don't worry about it. I need to get away and I'll be back on Tuesday." She said, picking up her bag and heading for the door. What she didn't say was, and when I get back we need to talk. That would only make him worry needlessly. She opened the door and turned to face him. "Have a nice time, Scully. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She looked up at him, his warm hazel eyes holding hers for a moment. She resisted the temptation to touch his face. Such a handsome, intelligent face. Why haven't we done something about this thing that's between us when it's obviously so strong? What are we afraid of? Mulder smiled at the door as she closed it, and quickly picked up his jacket. So much to do and so little time. ***************************** She arrived in France shortly after 9 am, Friday morning. On the ride in from Orly, she watched the French countryside slide by, dreading the call she would have to make when she got there. She slipped quickly into the massive revolving door of the Georges V and stepped into the lobby of one of the world's finest hotels. And now she knew why. It was beautiful, and she was ushered to the desk by a very helpful doorman. She presented her passport and was surprised by the reaction. "Oh, oui, Mademoiselle Scully! We have a beautiful suite for you. The gentleman made special arrangements for your stay." The man was grinning at her like a fool. "He did? Well, if I may go to my room now." She signed the register thinking that all of these arrangements were making her feel guilty. Francois had gone to a lot of trouble. Maybe she should have just called him from home. No, she knew she couldn't do that. She would repay him for his expenses, tell him what she had to, then go home to Mulder. Her suite was spectacular. High, ornately carved cielings; a sitting room and separate bedroom, a luxurious bathroom and the largest bouquet of flowers she had ever seen. In fact flowers filled the rooms. After tipping the bellboy she stood in the middle of the room and exhaled, trying to get her bearings. The card in the large bouquet read "meet me at the Eiffel tower at 5pm." It was barely eleven in the morning. She could get some sleep and take a city tour before rescheduling her return flight and meeting Francois. After a nap and a soak in the tub, she requested a cab and set out to see something of Paris. She had two hours and had consulted the concierge about a quick tour. He had recommended a guide, but that would take too long. Instead she took a map, circled the places she would like to see and gave it to the cabbie. They drove through the Place de la Concorade, down the Champs Elysee to the Arc de Triomphe; up to the Sacre Couer then out onto the Isle de la Cite to see Norte Dame Cathedral and some lovely residential areas. Finally, she asked to be dropped at the Eiffel Tower. With half an hour to kill she wondered just exactly where under the Eiffel tower would he be? She strolled around looking, but it was a big area and there were so many people. "Meeting someone?" she heard a voice from behind her, a familiar voice and she turned quickly. The owner of the voice was standing there, hands shoved into his pockets, smiling. "Mulder! What are you doing here?" She was confused. "Am I late?" "What?" "Is it five?" She swallowed hard. This was not happening. "It was you?" she asked. It couldn't possible have been Mulder who sent her the tickets, booked the Georges V and filled it with flowers. Mulder? The same man who barely remembered her birthday every year. Not the Fox Mulder she knew; with not one sentimental bone in his body. But if it was, how absolutely, bloody marvelous! As soon as she regained her voice she would ask for all the details, but at this precise moment all she could do was stand there and smile and bask in the feelings that were flowing through her body. He looked wonderful, dressed in a beautiful new suit and looking more handsome than she had ever seen him. His smile was something he usually held in check, saved for special occasions. But it beamed across his face like a small boy's and made her laugh out loud from sheer delight. "Aren't you a bit overdressed for sightseeing?" she asked, stepping forward to adjust his tie and smooth invisible wrinkles in his shirtfront. He looked down at her and laughed. "For sightseeing, maybe. For dancing, no." "Dancing?" she asked, trying not to giggle. Her heart was full to bursting just now, her feelings swirling around inside unchecked and unpredictable. "Hmmm?.but of course." He turned his head a bit and nodded. From behind a kiosk a man with a violin appeared and began to play. Scully threw her head back and laughed uncontrollably. Had her laugh always been so musical, so wonderful to hear? Then again, had he ever heard her laugh like this? Who knew that Mulder had a wild and crazy romantic side? How had he kept it so cleverly hidden all these years? She tried to pull herself together, wiping her eyes and trying to be a bit more serious. After all, this man had gone to some elaborate lengths to profess his feelings. He stepped closer to her and slipped one hand around her waist. The other hand he held out, waiting for her to take it. "May I have this dance?" he asked in a steady voice. "Here? Now?" "Here and now." She slipped her hand into his and took a small step forward, preparing to be led by his body in the dance. "Okay, handsome. Take your best shot." The violinist was playing a waltz. A slow waltz, but a waltz nonetheless. She had never waltzed before and was surprised to know that he had. He slipped easily into the three-quarter time, nothing flashy, no mad swirling like Anna nd the King. Just a slow movement with the music. She smiled at him and shook her head. "Just how did you manage all of this?" "The concierge at the hotel. And this is France, you know. The home of romance. Or is that Italy? Anyway, when I explained my situation he was more than happy to lend a hand." "And exactly what was this situation that required the special capabilities of the Geroges V?" She was fishing and she knew it, but since he started this she would see it finished. Now. His eyes held hers as he explained. "I told the concierge such a sad story about how I was going to lose the woman I loved if I didn't do something fast. And something really special. I couldn't let you go to that Frenchman. Or anyone for that matter. I've waited?.maybe too long. But you must know that I love you, even though I never told you." The eyebrow moved a bit, headed for her hairline. "No, you never told me." "I'm telling you now. I love you, Dana Scully. My life would be nothing without you." His feet stopped moving as he waited breathlessly for a response. There was no one else in the world at this moment. Here she was in the arms of this wonderful man, less than one hundred feet from the Eiffel tower. The gentle stings of a violin playing somewhere lent the whole scene a dreamlike quality. A dream come true. "Oh, Mulder." She sighed, running her fingers gently through his hair. "You could have told me this back in Georgetown." "Maybe. But it wouldn't have been near as much fun, would it?" "No." She said, rising up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his mouth. "I love you too. Thank you for all of this." Before she could move away, his arms went around her and lifted her off her feet and into his body. His mouth fit over hers and this time their kiss was more earnest, full of years of pent-up feelings and lost opportunities. But no more. No more longing for something he thought he couldn't have. No more watching her walk away. He would live his dreams now, make every day count toward a future for the two of them. Nothing would be easy, they were used to that; nothing ever had been. They would be living their dreams together. She pulled away to catch her breath, eyes closed, her body still locked in his arms, her feet off the ground. "You know," she whispered, licking her lips and trying to slow the rapid beating of her heart. "I have a great suite at this wonderful old hotel with a huge big bed and the most marvelous bathtub. Perhaps we should think about?" "Perhaps we should." End of story Author's note: I never seem to tire of dreaming up ways to get these two together. After having left the X-files alone for the summer, I watched a few of my tapes. As always, I am struck by the obvious depth of feeling they have for each other--feelings they seldom discuss or act upon. I know how this feels. I understand and need to write about it. Feedback is welcome -- good and bad. arc42@webtv.net