From nvrgrim@aol.com Mon Sep 16 22:47:58 1996
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From: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "A Notorious Affair" by Nicole Perry 1/9
Date: 16 Sep 1996 23:47:58 -0400
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Author's Defense:  NO, YES, YES.  The answers to your top three questions.
<g>  NO, this isn't the next installment of the road story.  YES, I'm
working on that sequel now.  (I have, in fact, been working on it quite
awhile now -- I actually sent this story to the EMXC at the beginning of
August.... I'm a little late posting it here.  Sorry!!  But I've been busy
writing.... <g>)  YES, I think you should read this story anyway --
assuming you are a fan of Mulderangst, Scullyangst, M&S romance, and old
movies.  Enough said.  :-)

About This Story:  I'm a *huge* movie buff and have seen some of my
favorites many, many times.  "Notorious" is one of those movies -- I loved
it as a kid, and then watched it numerous times in school under the
pretense of studying Hitchcock ("Look at the cup in that shot!  Notice how
it dominates the frame!") with the kind of intense scrutiny that can suck
the joy out of almost anything.  <g>  But although I'd always found the
movie to be romantic, I had never before thought of it in terms of UST --
that of course being an M&S related phrase that's only recently become a
huge part of my vocabulary. <bg>  It was actually Karen R., Queen of Words
and my e-pal extraordinare, who called this fact to my attention -- and
the moment she did, my mind started spinning, absolutely rocked by the
possibilities.  So I'm dedicating the results to the ever-fabulous Karen,
in the hopes that she likes what I've done with the inspiration she gave
me. :-)

Disclaimer Stuff:  Basically, I'm taking the characters created by Chris
Carter, tossing them into the old-time movie world created by Alfred
Hitchcock, and mixing them in Nic's Creative Blender without anyone's
permission.  Fans of the Cary Grant/Ingrid Bergman masterpiece should be
aware that I've changed quite a bit in order to better tell the story I
want to tell, and have put more emphasis on the UST aspects than the
thriller stuff (after all, that's the *fun* part about fanfic! <g>) 
However, I do want to mention that I've sprinkled some of Ben Hecht's
original dialogue in for good measure -- he's a genius and I figured, why
mess with perfection? :-)  Anyway, I hope the end result is as fun to read
as it was to write....



A Notorious Affair (1/9)
by Nicole Perry
nvrgrim@aol.com
8/6/96



Fox Mulder stood against the back wall of the courtroom and listened as
the judge prepared to render his decision.  "After weighing all of the
evidence that has been presented in this courtroom --"

 "They're gonna throw the book at him. You can take that to the bank," Tom
Colton whispered confidently.  Mulder brushed him aside, tired of his
colleague's attitude.  Colton's arrogance was hard to take under the best
of circumstances, and Mulder found it especially taxing when, like now, it
distracted him from the matter at hand.

 Ignoring Colton, Mulder turned his attention back to the man being
sentenced.  Captain William Scully stood ramrod straight behind the
rectangular table where he had sat these past weeks, listening to the
presentation of evidence and the litany of accusations that implicated him
in the crime of treason.  His face was blank, impassive, void of
expression, as though the trial had sapped all of the life out of him.

 And perhaps it had, Mulder mused.  Trials like this were becoming more
and more common in postwar America.  Though they were often merely
referred to as 'hearings', the results were usually tragic -- the
blacklist had a way of destroying people's lives.  This was certainly true
in Captain Scully's case.  A soldier decorated for his achievements in the
First World War, he had gone on to become a high ranking Naval officer. 
In 1941, when America entered World War Two, Scully was made the commander
of what became one of the most formidable naval fighting units.  At the
time, no one questioned Scully's close relationships with the officers of
the Soviet Navy.  After all, the USSR and the United States were allies,
fighting together to bring about the destruction of ultimate evil the
Nazis represented.  

 But now things were different.  It was 1952, seven years after Hitler's
armies had been defeated and world peace had been restored.  Thanks to a
new state of mutual distrust and hostility, the Soviet Union was no longer
thought of as a wartime ally, but was instead considered an international
threat.  And it was the job of the House Committee on Un-American
Activities to search aggressively for signs of Communist subversion. 
Anyone unfortunate enough to have exhibited Communist or 'leftist'
tendencies was suspect, to say nothing of those tainted by any sort of
Soviet interaction.

 Captain William Scully had served his country in two world wars, the
second of which had cost him the lives of both his sons.  When the
investigation into his "anti-American" tendencies had begun a year ago, he
had sent his wife and two daughters to England in an attempt to protect
them from further ignominy.  The Committee's witch-hunt had already ruined
the captain's career and effectively destroyed his family, yet Mulder
feared Colton was right -- it looked as though Captain Scully was about to
lose his freedom as well.

 The judge's voice snapped Mulder out of his ruminations as the verdict
was handed down.  "I find Captain William Scully guilty of the crime of
treason against the United States of America, the penalty for which shall
be life imprisonment for twenty consecutive years."  

 The courtroom erupted in a cacophony of noise and confusion at the
judge's words.  Captain Scully was placed in handcuffs and escorted away
from the table by several uniformed officers as the reporters at the back
of the courtroom furiously recorded the scene in their notebooks.  Mulder
looked at the captain, at the noble lines of his face as he walked
alongside the officers, and couldn't help but wonder if justice had indeed
been served.

 "Daddy!"  A small woman dressed in a tailored suit fought her way through
the crowd, pushing past the officers to throw her arms around the captain.
 The elegant beige hat she was wearing fell to the floor as she buried her
face against his chest, revealing a surprisingly radiant tumble of auburn
hair.  "Oh, Daddy...." the woman murmured, her words muted by her father's
uniform.

 "Quite a looker, eh?" Colton remarked, but although Mulder agreed with
the assessment he gave no response, focusing instead on the scene as it
unfolded before him.

 The cuffs prevented the captain from returning his daughter's fierce
embrace, but he was still able to place a kiss on the crown of her head. 
"It's alright, Dana," Captain Scully said.  "I'll be alright."

 The woman looked up at her father then, a pained expression on her face. 
"It isn't fair," she told him, and Mulder could see the tears in her blue
eyes from where he stood.  

 "Life isn't fair, Dana.  Remember that."  The captain leaned in as though
to kiss her again, but the officers pulled him away, leading him out the
side door of the courtroom.  

 The woman stood where she was for a moment, watching her father as he was
taken away.  Then she took a deep breath and leaned over to pick her hat
up from the floor.  As the reporters fired questions at her -- "What do
you think, Miss Scully?  Do you think your father got what he deserved?"
-- she adjusted the hat on her head and walked past them as though they
weren't there.  

 Mulder gave a nod to Colton and followed the woman out of the courtroom,
past the throng of photographers who were waiting for her, their cameras
at the ready.  Followed her at a discreet distance, being careful not to
attract any attention as the flashbulbs fired around him.

 That was, after all, his assignment.



Dana Scully took the shot of whiskey and knocked it back, feeling the
satisfying sting of the alcohol as it burned her throat.  "Another," she
called to the waiter as he passed, placing the empty glass on his tray.  

 "Dana!  My goodness, how many of those have you had?"  A woman -- Dana
thought her name might be Claire, but she wasn't sure -- stared with wide
eyes over a glass of champagne. 

 "Does it matter?" Dana answered, her tone imperious though her words were
slightly slurred. 

 The blond man next to her laughed.  "Not at all, my dear.  After all,
you've had quite a day."

 Dana threw him a coy smile as the waiter brought her new drink. "That's
right," she replied, "and you'd better keep 'em coming.  After all, I'm a
marked woman -- and liable to blow at any moment."

 She drained half the glass and gazed around the crowded supper club
through tired eyes.  It was a private club, very popular with a certain
clique of Maryland socialites.  Dana had fled the courtroom right after
her father's sentencing, relieved to be away from the fishbowl that was
Washington.  Despite feeling tired and drained, she had immediately hooked
up with friends and come out, desperate to put recent events behind her.  


 It was a fairly exclusive group that frequented this particular club, and
though Dana had a hard time with names, she recognized nearly all the
faces.  There was one man who seemed both familiar and unfamiliar all at
once, and he piqued her curiosity.  He was tall, with a full head of brown
hair, and although his dinner jacket was extremely well-tailored, it
wasn't his appearance that was out of the ordinary.  It was more the
expression on his face, the intensity of his stare, the way he watched her
when he didn't think she was looking.

 Dana swallowed a silent laugh as she stood up from the table, glass still
in hand, and made her way across the room towards the man.  Since she was
a little girl, Dana Scully had been acutely aware of the power she wielded
over men, and had grown up enjoying her ability to toy with them, to beat
them at their own game.  Her physical attributes were only a part of the
equation;  truth be told, Dana had always considered her taller, more
glamorous older sister Melissa to be the beautiful one.  Yet it was Dana
who possessed a remarkable sophistication, having traveled the world with
her military father more than once.  And she used her rapier-sharp wit to
disarm men who were tempted to dismiss her as a silly girl, only to fall
victim to her intellect and bewitching charm.

 Dana approached the man where he sat, alone at a small table, and downed
the rest of the whiskey as she regarded him through half-closed eyes. 
"Awfully quiet in this corner," she remarked by way of introduction.

 "Awfully loud in that one," the man pointed out, indicating the table she
had vacated with a wave of his hand.  "Care to join me?"

 With just the slightest inclination of her head, Dana slipped into the
chair opposite the man and studied him.  Up close, she caught a better
glimpse of his eyes, which were a fascinating shade of hazel even in the
dim light of the supper club.  

 A waiter was passing their table and the man asked, "Another round?"

 "Certainly," she replied, "Bushmill's."

 The man looked a bit surprised but he hailed the waiter and ordered two
shots of the whiskey.  "Not exactly a lady's drink, is it?"  said the man,
turning back to face her.

 Dana raised an eyebrow at him.  "It's my father's drink," she told him,
as the waiter returned with their glasses.  Her lips curved up in a bit of
a smile. "Besides, who said anything about being a lady?"

 "Point taken," the man responded with a smile of his own as he raised his
glass to hers.  "Cheers, then."

 Dana took a long sip, looking at the man over the rim of her glass as she
did so.  "I like you," she announced.  "Let's get out of here -- go for a
walk.  I could use some air."

 "Could you, now?"  The man's expression was unreadable, and Dana took it
as a challenge.

 "Yes, I could.  And you're coming with."   Dana rose from the table,
ignoring a wave of dizziness as she grabbed the man's arm.  He allowed her
to pull him to his feet, and she leaned against him for balance, suddenly
aware just how tall he was.   Her head barely reached the top of his
shoulder, but it didn't intimidate her in the slightest. 

 "Okay, then," the man replied.  "Guess I could use some air myself."

 "Good."  Dana favored him with a wicked smile full of promise as he took
her by the arm and escorted her out of the supper club.



Mulder shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. 
It had been a long night, and although he was quite tired, he hadn't been
able to do much more than doze.

 He glanced across the room to where she lay on the couch, covered in an
afghan that he had found in the hall closet.  Whatever her devious
intentions had been, Dana Scully had succumbed to the effects of the
numerous drinks she'd consumed the moment they had returned to her hotel. 
Mulder had arranged her in a more comfortable position against the sofa
cushions, unwilling to invade her privacy further by taking her into the
bedroom.  And then he had settled himself in the nearby armchair to wait
for morning, trying in vain to catch a few winks of his own.

 Watching her sleep, Mulder was struck again by how young and innocent she
seemed.  The dossier he had studied had led him to expect her to be
harder, more severe.  He knew that Dana was fiercely independent, a
stubborn woman who had returned to the United States to be with her father
during the trial against his wishes.  He also knew that Dana was a party
girl of some reputation, unlike her married sister who had remained in
London.  It was unusual in 1952 for a woman to be unmarried at the age of
thirty, and it had led Mulder to assume that there was something
undesirable about her.

 If there was, Mulder was having a hard time figuring out what.  Her hair
was a brilliant shade of red, and lay in sleep-tossed waves against her
smooth ivory skin.  He was entranced by the lines and planes of her face,
by the sensual curve of her mouth.  He was equal parts frustrated and
thankful that the blanket concealed her body, still clad in a silver
sequined evening gown, from his view.

 Mulder didn't have much of a clue as to why he'd been given this
assignment, but it wasn't his job to ask questions.  It was his job to
follow orders, and he intended to do so, as he always did, to the best of
his abilities.

 Despite the fact that he found Dana Scully damn attractive.

 She stirred under the blanket as she began to awaken, and Mulder rose
from the chair, heading into the kitchen in search of a glass of water.



On the third try, Dana managed to force her eyes open, ignoring the
throbbing pain in her temples.  After a moment of disorientation, she
realized she was lying on the couch, not in her bed, and that she was
still dressed in her gown from the previous evening.  "Damn," she
muttered, the single word shooting a new wave of pain through her head.

 "I'll say," came a voice, and Dana's head jerked up in surprise.  There
was a man standing in front of her, holding a glass of water in one
outstretched hand.  "Drink this," he said.  "All of it.  You'll feel a bit
better."

 Dana took the offered glass, raising it to her lips automatically.  The
water tasted cold and good and brought some clarity back to her fogged
brain.  She sat up on the couch and ran a hand through her tousled hair,
never taking her eyes off of the man.  She recognized him now, the man
from the supper club, still wearing his dinner jacket although he'd lost
the bowtie.  She remembered talking with him, remembered leaving with him,
but little else beyond that.  His expression was neutral, giving her no
clue as to whether anything had happened between them.  But Dana had a
feeling that if she'd been kissed by that pouty lower lip of his, it'd be
something she'd remember.

 In a tone that was deliberately flat and revealed none of her
embarrassment, she said, "So.  You're still around.  Nothing better to
do?"

 The man shook his head.  "Nothing better to do than wait for you to wake
up."

 Dana took another sip of the water.  "Can I ask why?"  A pause, then,
"Let me guess.  You're from the papers.  A newspaper man, looking for a
story on my father."  

 "I'm not with the papers."

 "What then?  Are you some kind of cop?  Going to arrest me for being
drunk and disorderly?"  She finished the water and put the glass back down
on the table.  "I hate cops and all those other little people that prowl
around, making trouble for everyone else." 

 "No," said the man.  "I'm not a cop, and I'm not here to arrest you." 
The man stopped for a moment, his gaze intense.  "We've got a job for you,
Miss Scully."

 "We?"  Dana arched an eyebrow at him.  "And who might 'we' be?"

 "I work for the government," the man replied.  "My name is Fox Mulder,
and my department has authorised me to engage you for a special
assignment."

X-1            X-1

Here endeth part 1... parts 2-9 posted simultaneously.  Let me know if
there are problems with the posting at nvrgrim@aol.com. 

From nvrgrim@aol.com Mon Sep 16 22:48:00 1996
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From: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "A Notorious Affair" - by Nicole Perry 2/9
Date: 16 Sep 1996 23:48:00 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Lines: 431
Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com
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Reply-To: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com

This is part two of a nine-part post.  Author's Note and Disclaimer can be
found at the beginning of part 1.  If there are problems with the posting
(or comments on the story!) I'm at nvrgrim@aol.com.



A Notorious Affair (2/9)
by Nicole Perry
nvrgrim@aol.com
8/6/96



Dana looked at him, her expression changing in a matter of seconds from
surprise to wonder to something approaching fury.  "Oh, now *that's*
rich," she said, the words dripping with sarcasm.  "Well, you can forget
it, Mr. Mulder.  I don't have anything to say to you."

 This is what you expected, Mulder reminded himself, searching for a way
to explain the situation.  "Please, Miss Scully.  This is important --
it's a matter of national security."

 Her blue eyes flashed at him.  "The war is over, G-man."

 "Quite the contrary," he replied.  "It's only just beginning." 

 She didn't say anything to that, just regarded him with a dark, even
stare.  

 Taking her silence as an indication to continue, Mulder explained, "The
Soviet Union poses a potentially greater danger to our country than the
Nazis ever did.  And my chief thinks that the daughter of a --"

 "A traitor?"  Dana cut him off, supplying the dreaded word herself.

 "Well," Mulder responded, "the chief seems to think you might be valuable
in the work -- that the Soviets might sell their trust to you."

 "What of it?" she asked.  "Why on earth would I help you?"

 Mulder gave her his own answer, the one that had been drilled into his
head relentlessly over the years.  "Patriotism."

 At that, Dana laughed, in a way that was more bitter than pleasant. 
"That word gives me pain.  I've already lost two brothers and a father in
the service of this damn country."  She blinked fiercely and Mulder feared
for a moment that she was going to cry. "Don't you think I've sacrificed
enough in the name of patriotism?"  

 Unsure what to say, Mulder tried another tact.  "It could be a way for
you to make up for some of your father's --"

 She cut him off again, her expression cold as ice.  "My father," she
said, enunciating every word, "did *nothing* wrong.  He has nothing to
apologize for, and neither do I."

 Mulder watched as she stood up from the couch, tossing the blanket aside,
and headed for the bedroom without giving him another glance.  "Now go
away.  Get out of my room.  The whole thing bores me."

 Desperate, Mulder threw down his trump card, the one he wasn't even sure
he could pay out if she tried to cash it in.  "If you help us, we might be
able to reduce your father's sentence."

 Dana paused in the doorway of the bedroom, resting one hand against the
frame, the sequins of her dress glinting in the early morning light.  She
was silent for a long moment, and then turned back to face him.  "What
then?" she asked quietly.  "His life has already been destroyed.  He's got
nothing left."

 "He's got you," Mulder replied, knowing the words were true.  

 She hesitated, weighing the possibility behind his statement, a myriad of
emotions playing across her face.  "I don't suppose I can say no to that,
now can I?"  A low sigh escaped her lips.  "Guess that means you've found
a new recruit, G-man."



Dana looked out of the window of the plane, hoping to catch a glimpse of
the land beneath, but they were flying high above the clouds and their
fluffy whiteness was all that met her eyes.  She turned and glanced over
her shoulder and saw Mulder talking to a bald-headed man seated several
rows back.  The man wore wire-rimmed glasses and an intense expression,
and Dana wondered idly who he was.

 There was a lot for her to wonder about, given the events of the past
twenty-four hours.  Dana hadn't had much of an opportunity to think about
what she was doing;  on the contrary, she had barely had the time to pack
and to place a guarded overseas call to her mother before leaving with
Mulder for the airport.  Her mother had asked where she was going, and she
had answered truthfully, per the G-man's instructions.  

 "Havana, Mother.  I'm going to Havana."

 Her mother had been worried and upset, as usual.  "In Cuba?  Dana, why? 
After all that's happened -- it can't be a good idea.  Come to London,
dear -- come and stay with Melissa and me."

 A part of her had desperately wanted to answer yes, to say that she would
catch the next flight, but Dana was nothing if not determined.  And having
now accepted the job, she didn't want to turn back.  Didn't want to break
her word to Mulder, though she was hard pressed to say why.  So she had
answered her mother in the flippant tone that she reserved specifically
for these kind of occasions.

 "London bores me.  The parties are better in Havana, Mother.  And it's
the good times that I like -- you know that."  The words had angered her
mother, as she had expected, causing Dana to feel a twinge of guilt that
she had ignored as she hung up the phone.

 I'm sorry, Mom, Dana thought, turning her head towards the window once
more.



"I'll tell her, sir," said Mulder.  "But this may change her mind.  She
may not want to go through with it now."

 The chief glared at him over the top of his glasses.  "It is your job,
Mr. Mulder, to see that she still does."

 "Understood, sir."  Mulder nodded his acknowledgement of the order and
then headed back down the aisleway to his own seat.  

 Dana turned to face him as he sat down, a smile crossing her face.  "Nice
looking man," she remarked.

 "You'll be seeing a bit of him in Havana," Mulder replied.  "That's our
boss, Mr. Skinner."

 "Ah," said Dana.  "The mystery unfolds.  Did he say anything about the
job, Mr. Mulder?  Drop any hints?"

 "No," Mulder answered slowly, the weight of responsibility heavy on his
shoulders.  "No hints.  But he did have some news."

 "What kind of news?"

 Mulder looked directly into her wide blue eyes and forced the words out. 
"It's your father, Miss Scully.  He died last night, in his cell."

 She said nothing at first, the color draining from her face.  "How?" she
asked finally, the word little more than a whisper.

 "Poison," he answered.  "It seems to be cyanide -- the autopsy results
aren't quite finished, but they're ruling it a suicide."

 Dana shook her head in disbelief.  "My father would never have killed
himself."

 "I didn't know your father, Miss Scully, but I'm inclined to agree with
you."

 "Then, why?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

 "Perhaps," Mulder reflected, "there were those who wanted him silenced."

 "Soviets?" Dana questioned.  "Or Americans?"

 "I don't know," Mulder responded, "although I'd place my bets on the
former."   A calculated pause, and then, "There may be a way to find out."

 "Finish the assignment."  He could tell by the resignation in her tone
that she understood completely what he was asking, but Mulder felt the
need to elaborate, to make her think she had a choice.

 "The bargain we struck -- it's invalid, now that your father is gone. 
You don't have to do this."  Yet even as Mulder said the words, he
realized there was a part of him that desperately hoped she still would,
desperately hoped that he would get to see more of her, at least for a
time.

 Dana took her time about replying, eyes focused on her hands which were
clasped tightly in her lap.  Finally, she looked up and Mulder was struck
by the intensity of emotion he read in her gaze.  "I'm still game," she
said in a voice that was brave despite the tremors.  "For my father, and
for my brothers.  Maybe you're right, Mr. Mulder."

 "About what?" he asked quietly.

 "About patriotism," she answered.  "Maybe I do believe in it a little,
after all."

 Before he was aware of what he was doing, Mulder reached out and covered
her clasped hands with his own.  He didn't say anything further, nor did
she, but she allowed his hands to remain where they were as the plane flew
on towards its destination.

           

They had been in Havana nearly ten days now, and Dana was actually
starting to suspect that the whole thing was a hoax.  That there wasn't
any assignment or job to be done, nothing that she should be doing to
better serve her country.  Save perhaps spending time with Mulder, which
was something she had come to discover she enjoyed immensely.

 They spent their days exploring the city, seeing the sights, dining out. 
Dana found Mulder to be a charming companion, although he had horrible
taste in neckties and a tendency to be very uptight.

 "Relax," she had teased him as they strolled along one sunny afternoon. 
"You know, we've been travel mates long enough now that you ought to be
calling me 'Dana' instead of 'Miss Scully' all the time."  

 "All right, Dana, if that's what you'd prefer," Mulder had replied, his
demeanor as stiff as ever.

 "And you?" she had asked.  "May I call you 'Fox', instead of 'Mr.
Mulder'?"

 He had hesitated, a peculiar expression crossing his face.  "I'd rather
you didn't," he had replied.  "I don't care for the name."

 "Well, what then?"  She had stopped and put both hands on her hips,
gazing up at him with impatience.  "I hate 'Mr. Mulder' -- it's too
stuffy, and sounds as though we're not friends."  A thought had occurred
to her, and she had asked, "We *are* friends, aren't we, Mr. Mulder?"

 He had grinned at that, and it had brought a warm glow to his face.  "Of
course we are.  Why don't you just call me 'Mulder', and drop the 'Mr.' 
That good enough for you?"

 "It'll have to do," she had replied with a smile, and he had taken her by
the arm as they continued their walk.

 Looking at him now, sitting across the table from her, she realized she
was pained that their friendship had gone no further. His fierce reticence
was something she found hard to understand.  Although she was smart enough
to chalk up some of his reserve to the constraints of his job, it was
upsetting that he seemed so immune to her charms.

 Especially because she knew in her heart of hearts she had fallen victim
to his.

 Mulder's voice cut into her reverie.  "Would you like another drink,
Dana?"

 "No," she replied cheerily.  "One's enough for me."  At Mulder's look,
she continued, "What is it, Mulder?  You still convinced I'm an alcoholic?
 A party girl?  I've changed... getting ready for this imaginary job that
hasn't yet materialized.  Don't you think a woman can change?"

 "Change is fun, for awhile," Mulder replied, hailing the waiter to bring
him a fresh glass.

 "Oh, I see," said Dana.  "Once a crook, always a crook.  Once a tramp,
always a tramp. It's all black and white for you, isn't it, G-man?"

 Mulder glanced up sharply.  "That isn't fair," he declared.  "You don't
know enough about me to say that."        
 
 "And you don't know enough about me, either," she countered, "despite
what you may have read in that damn file of yours."



The waiter returned with his drink and Mulder grabbed it off the tray,
eager for the distraction.  Dana glanced up just as the waiter began to
move away and said, "Perhaps I do need another, please."

 Mulder took a sip of his own drink and tried to mend the fence between
them.  "You may be right," he said by way of apology, but she didn't seem
to notice, a peal of laughter escaping her lips.

 "What's so funny?" he asked, curious.

 "That song," Dana replied.  Mulder cocked his head to the side, and heard
the sound of a band beginning to play inside the cafe.  "There's nothing
like a love song to give you a good laugh."

 "Oh, no?" wondered Mulder.  "And why is that?"

 "I don't believe in love," she declared.  "Never been in love with
anyone, and I never will be."

 "Really...."

 "Really," Dana replied, as the waiter brought her drink.  She took a sip
and then threw him a seductive smile.  "And you, Mulder?  Ever been in
love?"

 "Well," he confessed, a wry grin on his face, "I've always been scared of
women.  But I'll get over it."

 She rested the glass on the table and crossed her arms, looking into his
eyes with a penetrating stare.  "I don't believe you, Mulder.  I don't
think you're scared of women at all.  I think you're scared of yourself. 
You're afraid you'll fall in love with me."

 Stunned by the surprising accuracy of her words, Mulder barely managed to
toss off a reply.  "That wouldn't be hard."

 "Really?"  Dana's lips curved up in an alluring smile, and suddenly
Mulder desperately needed to change the subject.

 "You enjoy making fun of me, dontcha."

 The smile vanished from Dana's face, and she took another sip of her
drink.  "Sure I do.  That's what this is all about.  Making fun."  She
twirled the glass in her hand, studying the swirling liquid, and then
looked back up at him.  

 In a quiet voice, she asked, "Why won't you believe in me, Mulder?  Just
a little?"

 Mulder didn't know quite how to answer, so he avoided the question.  "I
should take you back to your apartment," he said.  "It's getting late."

 He paid the check, taking her by the arm to lead her out of the
restaurant as had been their custom since they'd been in Havana.  She was
quiet, for which Mulder was incredibly thankful.  His mind was whirling,
and her close proximity made it all the more difficult for him to focus.  

 Get it together, Mulder, he willed himself.  It's a job, nothing more,
nothing less.  

 As they crossed through the park, Dana spoke again, her teasing words
carrying a decidedly angry edge.  "You're sore, Mulder, that's what it
is."

 She stopped in her tracks and he turned to face her, meeting her bright
blue eyes with his own.

 "You're sore because you've fallen for me.  You're afraid that people
will laugh at the invincible Mulder, in love with a no-good girl, someone
not even worth wasting the words on --"

 He reached for her then, taking her into his arms and crushing her to
him, closing his mouth over hers and kissing her with all his might.  She
resisted for only a moment and then he felt her relax in his embrace, her
lips soft and moist against his own, her arms rising up to twine around
his back.  He kept kissing her, until he felt himself growing short of
breath, pulling away only enough to gasp some much needed air.

 "Mulder..." Dana gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes
sparkling.  "Oh, Mulder... I love you.  I love you."

 Mulder didn't say a word in response, not even her name, the intense
emotions he felt for her at that moment having robbed him of the power of
speech.  Instead, he ran a hand through her hair, cradling her head
against his palm as he drew her close again for a longer, deeper kiss.



They made their way back to the hotel with astonishing speed and Dana
counted every step, torn between the enjoyment of walking so close to him,
arm in arm, and the anticipation of being alone with him, somewhere
private and safe.  

 Mulder guided her into the foyer of her building, giving the doorman an
appreciative nod as he opened the elevator doors for them.  There wasn't
anyone else inside the elevator, and Dana felt a tremor shoot up her spine
as Mulder pulled her close for a quick, hot kiss.  The doors opened on the
sixth floor and she exited the elevator, with Mulder close on her heels.  
She reached into her bag and found the key to her apartment, but her hand
was shaking too much to fit the key into the lock.  Mulder took it from
her and slipped it easily into the lock, turning the knob and opening the
door.  "After you," he said, his voice a low seductive whisper just beside
her ear.

 Dana walked into the apartment, allowing Mulder to close the door and
lock it behind them.  The sun was just beginning to go down, and it cast a
brilliant red-gold shadow through the glass doors leading to the balcony
that illuminated the entire apartment.  Drawn by the light, Dana slid open
the glass and stepped out onto the balcony, resting her arms against the
railing on the far side.  

 A moment later, she heard the approach of his footsteps.  The sound of
the glass door sliding shut preceded his arms wrapping round her waist by
mere seconds, and she luxuriated in the sensation of his chest pressed
against her back.  Mulder lifted a hand to pull the hair away from the
right side of her face, and a moment later Dana felt his lips trailing
along her cheek, his tongue tracing the curve of her ear.  Despite her
best intentions, she was unable to stifle a moan as his hands skimmed the
contours of her body.

 The desire to kiss him consumed her and Dana spun in his arms, standing
nearly on tiptoe to pull him closer to her, seeking his lips with her own.
 "I think," she whispered, "we should stay in for dinner.  I'll cook..."

 "I thought you hated to cook," came his breathy response.

 "I'll make an exception, in your case."

 Mulder granted her another long, deep kiss before pulling back slightly. 
"It's already half-past six.  I have to see Skinner at seven."
 
 "Can't it wait?"  Dana sprinkled a series of kisses along his jawline as
she pleaded with him.

 "No," he answered, his voice sounding a bit strangled.  "It can't, and
you know it."

 She allowed him to pull away, nodding with reluctant understanding. 
Mulder took her hand and she walked with him back over to the door, where
he took her into his arms once more.

 "Mulder..." she murmured between kisses, "this is a very strange love
affair."

 "Why's that?"  He shifted his body so that she was trapped in his
embrace, her back pressed against the door, his hand toying at the buttons
on the front of her dress.

 "Maybe for the fact that you don't love me."

 "When I don't love you," said Mulder as he trailed kisses down her neck
and along her collarbone, "I'll be sure and let you know."

 "You haven't said anything," answered Dana, closing her eyes as she
surrendered to his touch, almost beyond caring.

 He pressed the full hard length of his body against her then, and she
gasped at the sensation as a ragged whisper escaped his lips.  "Actions
speak louder than words," he declared, just before his tongue plunged into
her mouth once more.  

 When Mulder released her at last, it took all of her self control to
remain standing upright.  Forcing a calm she did not feel, Dana smiled up
at him.  "Will you hurry back?"

 "I promise," he replied, smiling back as he placed a chaste kiss on the
bridge of her nose.  With that, Mulder slipped out the door and Dana shut
it behind him, managing to flip the lock shut before collapsing against
it, simply overwhelmed.  

X-2            X-2

Here endeth part 2... parts 3-9 posted simultaneously.  Let me know if
there are problems with the posting at nvrgrim@aol.com. 

From nvrgrim@aol.com Mon Sep 16 22:48:01 1996
Path: news.ro.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!howland.erols.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "A Notorious Affair" - by Nicole Perry 3/9
Date: 16 Sep 1996 23:48:01 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Lines: 332
Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com
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Reply-To: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com

This is part three of a nine-part post.  Author's Note and Disclaimer can
be found at the beginning of part 1.  If there are problems with the
posting (or comments on the story!) I'm at nvrgrim@aol.com.



A Notorious Affair (3/9)
by Nicole Perry
nvrgrim@aol.com
8/6/96



"So what exactly are you getting at, sir?"  Mulder felt an unusual amount
of impatience with Skinner's lengthy explanation.  He tried to
concentrate, to drive the thoughts of Dana from his mind, but it was a
battle he was more in danger of losing with each passing second.  

 "Bottom line is that we know the Soviets are up to something here in
Havana.  And it's about more than just enlightening the locals to the joys
of Communism."  

 "But Cuba's never been a threat to the United States," Mulder argued. 
"They fought in the war on the Allied side."

 "As did the Soviets," Skinner reminded him, "or have you forgotten that
small fact?  Cuba's vulnerable right now -- Batista's power seems to be
waning, and there have been rumors that Fidel Castro, the rebel leader, is
going to challenge him."

 Mulder nodded with understanding.  "Perfect time for the Soviets to set
up their own private shop."

 "Exactly," Skinner confirmed.  "Right now it could go either way, and we
can't afford to take that chance." 

 Skinner opened a dossier that lay on the table in front of him and
adjusted his glasses as he glanced at the paperwork inside.  "Do you know
how far away Havana is from the United States, Mulder?"

 Mulder thought for a minute before he gave his answer.  "A hundred miles
from Key West, Florida, sir.  Give or take a few."

 Skinner nodded, his expression grim.  "And what that means is that it's
too damn close.  Too damn close to allow the Soviets to use it as their
own private munitions center."

 "You can't be saying what I think you're saying, sir."  Mulder's mind had
already taken in the horrible implications behind Skinner's words.  "I
pray to God you're not."

 "I wish it weren't true, Mulder.  But it is.  The Soviets are putting
together a bomb -- maybe one, more likely many."  Skinner paused a moment,
a sigh escaping his lips.  "And if my intelligence is correct, what they
have planned will make Hiroshima seem like a walk in the park."

 For a long moment, all was silent in the temporary office save Skinner's
rifling of the papers in the dossier.  It was Mulder who finally resumed
the conversation.

 "I assume you're not sharing all this good news with me to brighten my
day, sir."

 Skinner shook his head and then passed a photograph across the desk.  It
was of a distinguished looking man who appeared to be in his early
forties, his hair dark but bearing the first touches of grey.  His
features were sharp, angular and intense, his mouth set in a stern,
unsmiling line.  

 "Anton Valenkov," said Skinner.  "We believe that he's the ringleader --
the man who's organizing the setup here in Cuba.  He's a high-ranking
Soviet officer, a well-respected man who has a lot of public and private
access in the Kremlin."

 Mulder stopped studying the man's face long enough to acknowledge
Skinner's words with a silent request for him to continue.

 "Valenkov is a military tactical genius -- though we'd never admit it, we
actually owe the man a bit of gratitude for some of his strategies during
the war."  Skinner paused and pulled out several other photos, passing
them across for Mulder's perusal. "Now, of course, it's a different story.
 We don't trust him as far as we can throw him, especially since his
friends have begun arriving in Havana."

 Mulder studied each photograph in turn as Skinner identified the men --
scientists, mostly, along with a few military types.  "We believe,"
Skinner summarized, "that Valenkov is the lynch-pin.  We pull him, and all
the rest will go tumbling down."

 "And how do we do that, sir?"  Mulder asked.

 "We're looking for the weapon design plans, Mulder, and we're more than
fairly sure that they're in Valenkov's possession."  Skinner took the
photos back and placed them back in the file before tucking it inside his
desk.  "We need to get our hands on those plans.  Even if copies exist,
they'll know we're on to their technology, and it should force them to
change their game.  And if we reveal Valenkov to be less than effective,
the Soviets will have no choice but to replace him -- they can't have a
man in that kind of position who doesn't command the respect of the
people."

 "You want me to organize a break-in?" Mulder frowned. "To be blunt, sir,
that's an insane sort of plan.  That type of information's bound to be
protected under the highest kind of security measures."

 Skinner nodded his agreement.  "Naturally.  That's why we need someone on
the inside.  That's where the girl comes in."

 "Miss Scully?"  Mulder was astonished to find that the past few minutes
had actually elapsed without his thinking of her.  "That doesn't make any
sense, sir.  She's got no training, no experience."

 "True, quite true."  Skinner propped his elbows on the desk, making a
tent of his hands as he spoke.  "But she's got something none of our field
men have.  Access to Valenkov's weak spot."

 "I don't follow, sir."

 "From what we've been able to ascertain, Miss Scully is Valenkov's
Achilles heel.  She is, in effect, the one who got away, and apparently
he's never recovered from it."

 Mulder's stomach was beginning to churn, but he forced himself to ask the
question.  "Are you saying that Miss Scully knows Valenkov?"

 "Knows him?"  Skinner chuckled, a short bark of a laugh.  "I'd say so. 
They were once engaged.  They met ten years ago, and from what I've been
able to ascertain, it was quite a notorious affair.   Although they never
married, Valenkov is supposedly still in love with her."  He paused, then
added, "Now, perhaps, he'll have his chance."

 Mulder froze, stunned by the horrible reality of the situation.  "Sir!" 
The word escaped from his mouth before he could figure out a follow up, so
he rose from his chair and paced nervously in front of Skinner's desk.

 "I don't think this will work, sir."  Mulder ran an agonized hand through
his hair.  "I don't know if she'll do it."

 "Why not, Mulder?"  Skinner looked at him, puzzled.

 "Well, she's not that type of woman, for starters --"

 "I beg to differ."  Skinner regarded him coldly.  "I don't know what's
come over you, Mulder, but this topic isn't open for debate.  You knew
what the assignment was --"

 "I didn't!"  Mulder slammed his fist down on the desk, heedless of the
impropriety of his action.  "Not until this moment."

 Skinner rose from his own chair and locked eyes with Mulder, and there
was no mistaking the power and authority in his stare.  "I'm not going to
argue with you about petty things.  Miss Scully knows Valenkov, and that
is what we need.  I don't want to hear another word from you about this. 
Am I making myself clear?"

 Mulder hesitated a long moment, a thousand emotions warring inside him as
he contemplated his next move.  When he trusted his voice enough to speak,
he broke eye contact with Skinner and turned towards the door.

 "Crystal clear, sir," Mulder answered, walking out the door and down the
hall without a backward glance.



It was nearly half-past eight when Mulder knocked on the door of Dana's
apartment.  The cab ride back from Skinner's office had been a blur during
which he had fought to make sense of the situation, to no avail.

 Dana pulled open the door just as he was about to knock a second time, a
bright smile on her face.  "Come in, come in!" she said, kissing him
playfully on the cheek before turning to race back inside.  "You're just
in time," she called, "dinner's about ready.  Not that it's anything
special, really, but it's food, after all, and that's always better warm,
don't you think?"

 Mulder made no response, merely pulled the door shut behind him and
walked into the living room where he tossed his hat on the coffee table
and collapsed into the nearest chair.

 "Mulder?"  Her voice rang out from the kitchen.  "Would you be a dear and
pour us a couple of drinks?  Something celebratory -- I wish I'd thought
to get champagne, but there's bound to be something in the cabinet that
will do."

 Moving on automatic pilot, Mulder rose from the chair and crossed the
room to the bar along the far wall.  The liquor cabinet wasn't as stocked
as Dana believed it to be, but he found a decent bottle of wine and poured
two glasses.

 Carrying the glasses, Mulder followed Dana out to the balcony, where she
had set a candlelit table for two.  He had to admit that the food looked
terrific, though he doubted he'd be able to swallow a single bite.

 "What do you think?"  Dana asked, retrieving one of the glasses from his
hand and clinking it against his before taking a sip.  "Not bad for an
amateur, eh?"

 Mulder nodded, but didn't say anything.  

 "Mulder?"  He could read the question in her eyes.  "Something wrong?"

 "Let's not talk about it now," he dodged.  "After dinner."

 "Oh, no."  Dana carefully set her glass down on the table and then placed
his beside it.  Wrapping her arms around him possessively, she teased,
"I'm not going to let all your G-man secrecy ruin my dinner.  Tell me,
Mulder, what's darkening your brow?"  Rising on her toes, she placed a
kiss on his lips.  "I can make you feel better, I promise."

 "That's the real specialty of the house, isn't it."  The words flew out
of his mouth, unbidden.  "Making men feel better."

 Dana took a step back, and he saw the pain that creased her features,
forcing her to look away.  When she faced him again, her words were dark
and quiet. 

 "Well now, isn't that just like you.  Right below the belt, every time." 
Dana pulled out one of the chairs and sat down.  "You'd better tell me,
now, whatever it is that's got you in such a mood."

 "It's about the job."

 "Ah," said Dana, "so there is a job, after all."  A pause, then, "Care to
tell me about it?"

 "You know a man by the name of Valenkov?"  Mulder watched her closely,
studying her reaction to the name, trying to read the truth in her eyes.

 It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Mulder would have sworn that
Dana was blushing as she replied, "Valenkov?  Anton Valenkov?"  

 Mulder nodded his response, never moving his eyes from hers.
 
 "Anton...yes, I know him.  He was... a friend.  Of my father's."

 "And yours."  Mulder chose his words carefully.  "From what I hear, he
carried quite a torch for you."

 Please, he thought, tell me the truth.  Tell me that you were engaged to
him.  Tell me that you loved him once.  I can bear that, as long as you
confide in me.  

 Dana laughed, but the sound carried little mirth.  "I don't know about
all that.  It was never anything serious, not really.  I was... I was
young at the time, and it was long ago."



He was wearing that blank expression again, the one that she found so
infuriatingly hard to read.  "Well," he said, and followed up the single
word with a pause so long that Dana feared he'd lost his train of thought
entirely.

 At last, Mulder continued.  "It seems that we need you to become
reacquainted with Mr. Valenkov.  He's got some paperwork, designs for an
atomic weapon, that we need to get our hands on."

 "Ah," said Dana, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.  "And your
boss and his pals seem to think I'm the girl to get it, is that it?  A
Mata Hari who makes love for the papers?"

 Mulder shrugged.  "If that's the way you want to put it."

 "I suppose you knew about this pretty little job all along." 

 "Didn't know a thing about it, until this evening."

 Dana could feel the hurt, the pain of betrayal, building up inside her,
and fought to push it aside.  Looking up at Mulder where he stood near the
railing, she asked, "Did you say anything?  Tell them that maybe I wasn't
the girl for such shenanigans?"

 "I figured that was up to you," he replied, "if you cared to back out."

 "You didn't say anything?"  Despite herself, Dana was unable to hide her
disbelief.  She stared at him, the man who only hours before had brought
her to the blissful edge of joy.  The man who now regarded her so coldly
that she felt like a specimen on some laboratory slide.  "Not a word.  You
didn't say a word."

 "I told you," explained Mulder, as though to a child.  "That's the
assignment."

 Dana stood up from the table and strode angrily over to the opposite side
of the balcony.  "I suppose it would have been too much to ask for you to
stand up for me.  For you to confront them and say, 'How dare you
gentlemen suggest such a thing, that a woman like Dana be submitted to so
ugly a fate.' " 

 Mulder turned away from her then, as though to contemplate the city
below, and Dana regretted her harsh outburst.  She approached him
hesitantly, stopping beside him and putting a gentle hand on his arm.  "Do
you want me to take the job?"

 He glanced down at her and Dana thought she caught a glimpse of something
significant in his hazel eyes, but then he blinked and it was gone. 
"You're answering for yourself."

 "I'm asking you."

 "It's up to you."

 "Not a peep."  The urge to cry was suddenly overwhelming and Dana
struggled to hold back the tears.  "Mulder... what you didn't tell them,
tell me."  With one hand, she gently caressed his cheek.  "Please."

 Mulder pulled her hand away from his face, holding it by the wrist as
though he feared she might slap him. "I'm waiting for your answer."

 At that moment, the anger won out over the pain and Dana pulled her arm
from his grasp.  "What a pal," she snapped, wanting the words to hurt. 
"Not a word of faith.  Joke's on me, to have expected anything from you."

 Dana marched back into the living room and headed for the liquor cabinet.
 Finding the bottle of Bushmill's, she poured first one shot, and then
another, knocking them back in quick succession.

 "Oh, that's good," said Mulder, as he followed her.  "Right back to the
drinking."

 Furious, Dana whirled to face him.  "Look here, G-man.  You've given me
my assignment, and I'm accepting it.  As far as I'm concerned, that means
your work here is done.  Now get the hell out of my apartment before I
throw you out."

 Mulder met her eyes for a long moment, but gave no response.  Grabbing
his hat, he turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

X-3            X-3

Here endeth part 3.... parts 4-9 posted simultaneously.  Let me know if
there are problems with the posting at nvrgrim@aol.com. 

From nvrgrim@aol.com Mon Sep 16 22:48:04 1996
Path: news.ro.com!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!howland.erols.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail
From: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "A Notorious Affair" by Nicole Perry 4/9
Date: 16 Sep 1996 23:48:04 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Lines: 397
Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com
Message-ID: <51l71k$3tn@newsbf02.news.aol.com>
Reply-To: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com

This is part four of a nine-part post.  Author's Note and Disclaimer can
be found at the beginning of part 1.  If there are problems with the
posting (or comments on the story!) I'm at nvrgrim@aol.com.



A Notorious Affair (4/9)
by Nicole Perry
nvrgrim@aol.com
8/6/96



Dana drew the brush through her hair once more, finally deciding she was
satisfied with the result.  The woman who stared back at her from the
other side of the mirror seemed unfamiliar, her self-perception numbed by
the events of the past few days.  

 Her 'accidental' reunion with Valenkov had been easily arranged.  She had
accompanied Mulder to the riding stables that Valenkov frequented, and
they had ridden past the Russian, their horses at a canter slow enough to
allow him a good look at her.  Later, Valenkov had left his own riding
party and caught up to them, and Dana had greeted him graciously.  As
instructed, she'd introduced Mulder as a friend she'd made on the flight
to Cuba;  as instructed, Mulder had departed shortly thereafter, allowing
them time to become reacquainted.  

 Dana had seen Valenkov twice more since then, once at a jai-alai
tournament, where they spoke briefly amongst the crowd, and then again at
a local cafe which Mulder had ascertained was Valenkov's favorite.  This
third deliberately orchestrated run-in had resulted in Valenkov sending a
large bouquet of flowers to her apartment, the attached note containing an
invitation to dinner at a posh private club.

 Not bad for an amateur, Dana thought, fastening the clasp on her
bracelet. 

 "Dana?" She heard Mulder's voice call from the next room.  "Mr. Skinner's
here to see you."

 "I'll be straight out," she answered, unable to conceal the irritation in
her voice.  

 Mulder hadn't said anything -- not a thing -- to explain his sudden
change in attitude towards her, but Dana didn't need to have it spelled
out to understand his behavior.  It was obvious that he'd been playing her
for a fool from the start, flattering her and acting companionable to lure
her into accepting the assignment.  No matter, she thought, that he'd
taken companionable a step too far.  She understood the rules of the game,
and how to play by them.  

 She'd been cold and distant to Mulder these last days, and it hadn't been
as hard as she'd anticipated.  The worst of it was his habit of turning up
when she least expected him, but she knew it was part of the strategy,
enabling him to be her contact and receive whatever information she was
able to glean.  "Don't telephone me anymore," he had instructed her. 
"Just rely upon me popping up."

 And so she had, denying to herself just how much she relished those
sudden appearances.  Denying to herself how much she still cared about
him, despite everything that had happened.

 Finished, she crossed the room and opened the door.  Mulder was standing
next to Skinner near the coffee table;  it was obvious she'd interrupted
them in the middle of some private conversation.

 In the moment before Mulder looked up to see her standing there, Dana
drank in everything about him:  the strong lines of his jaw, the slope of
his shoulders beneath the tailored suit he wore, the tumble of brown hair
that seemed to resist all methods of control.  And then he raised his
hazel eyes to hers and she had to look away, for fear of him seeing how
much she missed him.  How much she needed him.

 Addressing her words to Skinner, she asked, "Well?  Will I do?"

           

"You look perfectly lovely," Skinner answered, and Mulder was grateful for
that.  His own mouth didn't seem to be working, and he was uncomfortably
aware that it was actually hanging open a bit in astonishment.  

 Dana was wearing a dress that was the most intense shade of blue Mulder
had ever seen, a color so deep and rich that it was almost violet. 
Knowing little about fabrics he couldn't give this one a name, but it
shimmered as she walked towards them with a life of its own.  The dress
was long and slim and fell straight to the floor, and Mulder's breath
caught as he noticed the slit that ran down the length of one side,
allowing him just the barest glimpse of leg beneath.  

 "Thank you," she answered demurely, smiling at Skinner.  She looked over
at him then, the sparkle in her blue eyes enhanced by the dress, and
Mulder felt compelled to say something.

 "You'll do," he remarked, fighting to sound casual.  "Assuming he likes
blue, of course."

 For just a moment, the sparkle in her eyes dimmed, and Mulder knew he'd
scored a direct hit, though the realization didn't please him in the
slightest.  Yet he was unable to help himself, and his tone was even more
nonchalant as he continued.

 "Your good pal Anton sent you a little gift," Mulder announced, picking
up the finely wrapped package from the coffee table and extending it
towards her.  "Shall we see what's inside?"

 Dana took the present from him without a word and tore off the ribbon,
opening the box.  A cry of surprise escaped her lips as she pulled out a
string of pearls, which, Mulder realized with some chagrin, would be the
perfect compliment to her dress.

 "How beautiful!" she exclaimed, holding the pearls up to her neck.  

 "Indeed," said Skinner.  "And I'm certain he's expecting to see you wear
them this evening."

 Dana nodded, and opened the clasp.  "Yes, of course," she said, and as
her eyes met his, Mulder was suddenly afraid that she was going to ask him
to help her fasten the necklace.  Afraid that he wouldn't be able to do so
because of how badly his hands were shaking.  

 She hesitated for a fraction of a second and then turned to Skinner. 
"Mr. Skinner, would you mind?" she asked, handing him the pearls.

 "Not at all," Skinner replied, taking the necklace from her.  Reaching
around from behind, he draped the strand of pearls around her neck.  Dana
bent her head slightly, moving her auburn curls out of the way with one
hand.  There was an intimacy to the moment that made Mulder feel
irrationally jealous, and suddenly he felt the need for some air.

 "If you'll excuse me, sir."  Mulder fumbled for his hat as he made his
way towards the door.  "I should be going."  He paused, his hand on the
knob, and risked a last glance back.  "Good evening, Miss Scully," he said
as he walked out.

            

Dana fingered the pearls around her neck and smiled at her dinner
companion.  "Really, Anton.  They are absolutely exquisite, but you
shouldn't have sent them."

 "Ah, but I wanted to."  Valenkov returned the smile as he reached across
the table and took her hand.  "It is fate that has brought us back
together again.  I knew it when I saw you at the stables, from that first
moment."

 His words made her uncomfortable and Dana averted her eyes from his. 
Scanning the room, she noticed Skinner, seated at a table in the corner of
the supper club.  He gave her a discreet nod, and though Dana knew better
than to return it, Valenkov followed her gaze.

 "Do you know who that man is?" he asked.

 "No, no...." Dana hastily demurred.  "Should I?"

 Valenkov shook his head.  "No.  He goes by the name of Skinner -- he's an
intelligence man from the States.  They've been swarming all over Havana
these past months, down here as part of some Washington espionage team."

 Anxious to change the subject, Dana laughed.  "Sounds a little cloak and
dagger to me."

 "Indeed."  The smile returned to Valenkov's face.  "Let's talk about
something more interesting.  You, for instance."

 Looking at Valenkov, Dana could remember why she had fallen for him.  He
was a remarkably attractive man, and the intervening years had made him
even more handsome.  As a young girl of twenty, it had been a heady
sensation to attract the attention of a such a high-ranking officer, one
who was as intelligent as he was charming.  

 Yet there had always been something about him that had made her vaguely
uneasy.  Something dark in his eyes that Dana had always found a little
frightening, something that had threatened to swallow her up until nothing
remained.  Something that had eventually caused her to change her mind
about him.  

 Dana had always considered breaking her engagement to Valenkov as a kind
of escape, and she had never turned back.  Until now.

 The thought made her shiver and Dana sought to pull her hand away but
Valenkov kept hold of her, his grasp firm against her skin.  "It is
amazing," he said, "that I still feel what I used to for you.  The same
hunger, the same longing...."  He placed the index finger of his free hand
under her chin, tilting her head up to face him.  "Dana, you are so
lovely."

 "You're too kind," she replied, searching desperately for a way to be
free of his touch.  "Would you pour us some more wine?"

 "Certainly."  Valenkov released her and as he reached for the bottle,
Dana breathed a sigh of relief.

 "You know," Valenkov remarked as he poured the rich red liquid into each
of their glasses, "when I first saw you at the stables, I feared perhaps
the fates were teasing me, bringing you back within my sights though you
belonged to someone else."

 Dana reached for her glass and took a long sip. "What do you mean?"

 "The gentleman you were with.  The one from the plane."

 "Mr. Mulder?"  Dana could feel her hand starting to shake, and she
quickly put the glass back on the table.

 "Yes.  You two made quite a pretty couple," said Valenkov, penetrating
her with his gaze.

 "Oh, Anton."  Dana sought to reassure him.  "He doesn't interest me at
all."  The lie escaped her lips more easily than she'd expected.  "I was
so bored that day, I would have gone riding with simply anyone."

 "Good."  Valenkov sat back in his chair, seemingly satisfied.  "Perhaps I
can take the place of 'simply anyone'.  I'd like to."

 Unwilling to commit, Dana answered by saying, "It's sweet of you to say
that, to be willing to forget the brat I once was."

 "My dear," Valenkov promised, "I shall test out your repentance.  In
fact, I look forward to it."  A pause, and then, "Shall we order?"

 Dana felt his hand close over hers again and nodded.  As Valenkov turned
away to hail the waiter, she slammed her eyes shut for a brief instant,
praying for the strength to continue with the charade.



Several weeks passed interminably slowly for Mulder.  The surveillance job
was as boring as it always was, made even more tortuous by the fact that
he was only assigned to watch Dana half of the time.  Though he completely
understood the security reasons for alternating manpower, he couldn't help
but feel more comfortable when he was the one in charge of keeping an eye
on her. 

 The only thing that made it bearable was that Mulder was Dana's sole
official contact.  He was careful not to abuse the privilege, arranging to
meet her only occasionally so as not to arouse any suspicion.  He awaited
each of their meetings with an eagerness that surprised him, with a level
of anticipation that almost embarrassed him.   

 You're pathetic, Mulder told himself as he waited for her at the edge of
the racetrack, his arms crossed as he leaned on the railing.  A pathetic
old fool pining over a dame who doesn't give a rat's ass about you.

 And then she was there beside him, looking fresh and pretty in a pale
yellow dress and matching hat.  "Why, Mr. Mulder!" Dana exclaimed, playing
their cover to the hilt.  "Fancy running into you here!"

 "Oh, there's nothing like a good race to pass the time," Mulder replied. 
Lowering his voice, he asked, "How are things?"

 "Fine," she answered, matching his tone.  "Haven't turned up anything new
since last we spoke."

 "Any activities out of the ordinary?"

 "He's hosted two more dinners at the club," Dana confided.  "The same
crew as usual -- several of the men in the photos you showed me were
there, but I heard nothing special."

 Mulder sighed.  "This is moving more slowly than I'd expected.  No luck
on finding any paperwork?"

 She shook her head.  "And believe me, I've been looking."

 "Well," Mulder grumbled, "you'll just have to look harder."  It was
getting more and more difficult to be patient.  He wanted her away from
Valenkov, and wanted it to be soon.   

 Though he hadn't meant for his words to sound harsh, they had, and Mulder
could see Dana's expression darken.  "Perhaps it'll be easier from here on
in."

 "What do you mean?" Mulder asked.

 "Well," Dana replied, her manner strangely coy, "let's just say you can
add Anton's name to my list of playmates."

 The news hit him like a bullet, and Mulder swallowed hard.  "Pretty fast
work."

 "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"  The words escaped from her mouth in
a hiss.

 "Skip it," Mulder ordered, hurt and angered by her tone.  "I can't help
recalling some of your remarks -- how you declared yourself a new woman. 
Doesn't seem like much has changed."

 "You idiot!"  Dana grabbed him by the arm, glaring up at him from beneath
the brim of her hat.  "What are you sore about?  You knew very well what I
was doing."

 "Did I?"

 "You could have stopped me with one word," she accused him, her eyes
suspiciously wet.  "One word.  But no, you wouldn't.  You threw me at
him."

 "I threw you at nobody," Mulder countered, turning his face away from
hers.

 "Didn't you tell me to go ahead?"

 His fury growing, Mulder met her eyes again, his words like ice. "A man
doesn't tell a woman what to do -- she tells herself."  He could see she
was on the verge of tears, but the anger propelled him forward.  "You
almost had me believing that a woman like you could change."

 "Oh, you rotten --"

 Beyond caring, Mulder cut her off.  "That's why I didn't try to stop you
-- the answer had to come from you."



Suddenly it was all crystal clear to Dana, and she confronted him.  "Oh, I
see.  It was some kind of a love test."

 "That's right," he replied, his tone cold.

 Dana felt the tears start down her face and turned away from him, lifting
the field glasses to her eyes in an attempt to hide.  "Well," she sighed,
"you never believed in me anyway, so what's the difference?"

 "Lucky for both of us I didn't."  The rage in Mulder's voice was
palpable, and she was afraid to look his way.  "It wouldn't have been
pretty if I'd believed in you, if I'd figured, 'Oh, she'll never be able
to go through with it, she's been made over by love.' "

 There was a bitter sting to his words that made Dana feel as though
Mulder might be as pained by the rift between them as she was, made her
suspect that his heart had fallen victim to the same cold ache.  Dropping
the field glasses, she gazed at him, probing his eyes in search of proof. 


 "If you only once had said that you loved me," she said, her voice
trailing off in the hope that perhaps he still would.

 Mulder's casual response shattered her completely.  "Listen, you chalked
up another boyfriend, that's all -- no harm done."

 "I hate you," she told him, meaning every word.

 "There's no occasion to."  The anger had left his voice, his tone almost
flippant now.  "You're doing good work."

 Despising herself for doing so, Dana tried to reach him one last time. 
"Is that all you have to say to me?"

 Mulder shrugged, a gesture cruel in its nonchalance.  "Dry your eyes,
baby -- it's out of character.  And keep on your toes.  This is a tough
job we're on."  With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

 Shaken, Dana leaned against the railing, bringing an angry hand to her
cheek to wipe away the wretched tears.  She didn't have more than a minute
to compose herself before she felt a hand on her shoulder and whirled
around to see Valenkov regarding her curiously.

 "Darling, are you alright?" he asked.

 "Fine, fine," she answered, attempting to smile.  "That was a wonderful
race -- the finish had me a bit overcome."

 "I didn't see the race."

 "You didn't?" Dana asked, confused.  "Why not?"

 "I was watching you and your friend.  Mr. Mulder, isn't that right?"

 Valenkov's face was impassive and Dana felt a chill race up her spine. 
"Yes, that's right.  I just ran into him, unexpectedly."  She forced
herself to laugh.  "I find him to be ever so tiresome." 

 "You didn't seem anxious to get away."  Dana attempted to contradict him,
but Valenkov dismissed her with a wave of his hand.  "I watched you," he
said, menace in his tone.

 "Anton, don't talk like that," Dana pleaded.  "I detest him -- you know
that."

 "Really?"  Valenkov leaned in towards her, his next words a whisper
against her ear.  "He's very good looking."

 His proximity unnerved her and Dana took a cautious step back.  "I've
told you before, Mr. Mulder doesn't mean a thing to me."

 Valenkov's lips curved up in a dark semblance of a smile. "I'd like to be
convinced," he murmured quietly, taking a step towards her, again closing
the distance between them.  "Would you maybe care to convince me, Dana,
that Mr. Mulder means nothing to you?"

 Suddenly, although they were standing in the midst of the crowded
racetrack, Dana felt vulnerable and very much alone.

X-4            X-4

Here endeth part 4... parts 5-9 posted simultaneously.  Let me know if
there are problems with the posting at nvrgrim@aol.com. 

From nvrgrim@aol.com Mon Sep 16 22:44:10 1996
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From: nvrgrim@aol.com (NVRGRIM)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "A Notorious Affair" by Nicole Perry 5/9
Date: 16 Sep 1996 23:44:10 -0400
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This is part five of a nine-part post.  Author's Note and Disclaimer can
be found at the beginning of part 1.  If there are problems with the
posting (or comments on the story!) I'm at nvrgrim@aol.com.



A Notorious Affair (5/9)
by Nicole Perry
nvrgrim@aol.com
8/6/96



Mulder stood in Skinner's temporary office, listening intently to the
discussion taking place.  The participants were Skinner, beads of sweat
evident on his bald forehead, and a man who Mulder knew by sight but not
by name.  In his own private thoughts, Mulder referred to him as the
Smoking Man, since he never saw the man without a cigarette in his hand. 
He was fairly sure that the Smoking Man outranked Skinner, but in what
specific capacity he couldn't be sure.  

 "I think we should consider this operation a wash," said the Smoking Man,
taking another drag.  "We're not going to accomplish anything at this
rate, and time is running out."

 "I agree that progress has been slow," Skinner countered, "but an
operation like this takes time to establish.  And we're just now getting
to firm ground."

 The Smoking Man exhaled.  "To be honest, Mr. Skinner, it surprises me
that so little has been achieved.  I would have expected a woman of that
sort --"

 At that, Mulder entered the conversation.  "And what sort of woman is
that, sir?"

 "Oh, I don't think any of us have any illusions as to her character," the
Smoking Man replied.  "Have we, Mr. Mulder?"

 Mulder could see Skinner cautioning him with his eyes, but his temper had
already flared.  "Not at all, sir.  Not in the slightest.  Miss Scully is
first, last and always not a lady.  She may be risking her life, but when
it comes to being a lady, she doesn't hold a candle to your wife," he
finished, looking pointedly at the Smoking Man's wedding band as he did
so.

 "Mr. Mulder!"  Skinner glared at him.  "Your behavior is exceedingly
inappropriate and grounds for immediate suspension.  Do you understand
me?"

 The Smoking Man remained curiously silent, and Mulder matched his stare
before turning to face Skinner.     

 "Consider my remarks withdrawn.  I apologize, sir."

 At that moment, a knock on the door preceded the entrance of Mr.
Skinner's aide.  "I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," said the young man, "but
Miss Scully is here, looking for either you or Mr. Mulder.  She says it's
urgent."

 Mulder noticed that Skinner glanced at the Smoking Man before replying. 
At his nod, Skinner said, "Very well.  Show her in."

 A moment later, Dana entered, wearing a conservative plaid suit, her hair
held back with a silver clip.  "I'm sorry to disturb you at the office,
Mr. Skinner," she said by way of greeting.  "But it was a matter of some
importance, and I couldn't reach Mr. Mulder."

 "Not a problem," Skinner replied, offering her a chair which she
graciously accepted.  "What is it, Miss Scully?"

 "Well," Dana began, "I need some advice."  She looked up at Mulder, and
it seemed as though her next words were intended specifically for him. 
"Mr. Valenkov has asked me to marry him, right away."  She paused for a
moment, and Mulder felt the full weight of her gaze.  "I didn't know what
the department might think of such a step."

 Mulder couldn't answer, and yet he couldn't look away.  He heard
Skinner's voice as though coming from a distance.

 "Are you willing to go that far for us?"

 Dana glanced down at her hands, a flush blooming across her cheeks. 
"Yes, if you wish."

 Skinner frowned, adjusting the position of his glasses on his face. 
"What do you think, Mulder?"

 Mulder hesitated, unsure what to say.  "I... I suppose it could be a
useful idea."  Dana looked up, and he caught a glimmer of surprise in her
face.

 Go ahead, thought Mulder, go ahead and play me for a fool.  You won't get
any satisfaction from it.

 "You know the situation better than any of us," Skinner acknowledged.  

 Mulder took a step towards Dana, trying to keep his expression
nonchalant.  "May I ask what inspired Mr. Valenkov to go this far?" 

 She met his gaze, but Mulder noticed that her lower lip was trembling. 
"He's in love with me," she answered softly.



"And he thinks you're in love with him?"  Dana could almost feel the venom
in Mulder's accusation, but she refused to play into his anger, answering
the question as truthfully as she could.

 "Yes," she whispered, "that's what he thinks."

 It was the man in the corner, the one with the cigarette in his hand, who
spoke next.  "Well then, I guess that settles things."

 A silence fell over the room, a silence that Dana waited desperately for
Mulder to break.  Can't you tell, she thought, that I'm afraid to do this?
 Can't you tell that I need you to help me out of this mess?

 But Mulder said nothing, and finally Dana was compelled to speak.  "Then,
it's alright?"

 "Well, yes, I'd say so," Skinner declared.  "It's the perfect marriage
for us, don't you think, Mulder?"

 Dana turned her eyes back to Mulder.  He had plunged his hands into the
pockets of his jacket, bunching up the neat lines of the suit.  "Yes," he
answered slowly, and Dana's heart sank. 

 "But," Mulder continued, "it may delay us a bit."  Directing his
attention towards her once more, he asked, "Mr. Valenkov is a very
romantic man, isn't he?"

 Dana couldn't bring herself to do more than nod.

 "Then," commented Mulder in an even tone, "he'll be likely to take his
bride away for a long honeymoon.  That could be quite a detriment to our
investigation."

 The man with the cigarette laughed, a dark, chilling sound.  "Oh, I have
no doubts about Miss Scully's ability to get him back soon enough, if
that's what we need."

 Dana flushed with anger and embarrassment, dropping her eyes to her lap. 
It wasn't until Mulder spoke that she dared to raise her head.

 "Well then," Mulder drawled, "everything seems to be nicely arranged.  I
don't think you need me here anymore, do you Mr. Skinner?"  

 For a brief instant, Dana managed to catch Mulder's attention, to hold
his eyes with her own.  She pleaded with him silently to do something,
anything, to change the circumstances.

 If he received her silent message, he gave no indication of it.  Without
waiting for a response from Skinner, Mulder headed out the door, closing
it firmly behind him.



When Dana saw Mulder sitting on the bench in the park, it took all of her
self-control not to break down in tears.  He looked so handsome sitting
there, his hat perched rakishly on his head, his long legs outstretched,
as he perused the newspaper.  It was her anticipation of this moment, of
seeing him again, that had enabled her to survive the ordeal of her
honeymoon.  Though she would never admit it to him, the mere thought of
him gave her strength. 

 "Hello, stranger," she said as she approached.

 He looked up with a half-smile and made room on the bench.  "Welcome
back.  Lovely trip, I assume?"

 She tried to smile back but it didn't quite work.  "It's nice to be
back," she confessed truthfully.

 Mulder took a close look at her and suddenly Dana wished she was a better
liar where he was concerned.  "You're doing alright," he said, and she
heard the question in his statement.

 "It's no fun, Mulder," she whispered, though she wasn't sure she should. 


 For a moment, it looked as though he was going to say something sweet,
something to take her mind off her troubles.  There was a warmth in his
eyes that she remembered from before, but it vanished as soon as it
appeared.  "It's too late for that now, isn't it?"

 The gentle mood between them blew away and Dana clenched her teeth,
determined to return to the business at hand.  "I think I may have found
something.  Now that I --" she paused a moment, trying to force the words
out.  "Now that I'm staying in the house, I've had a chance to do some
real looking around -- and I think I know where he might be keeping the
papers."

 "Where?"  Curiosity was evident in Mulder's face.  
 
 "There's a room, upstairs.  It's a type of annex to his office, and it
has some kind of fancy lock on it.  Not the kind that uses a regular key
-- I've never seen a lock quite like it."

 "You've got to get in there," Mulder instructed, and Dana lost patience
with him.

 "I don't know how!"  She frowned in frustration.  "I'm no agent -- I
don't know anything about breaking and entering."

 Mulder removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair before putting it
back on his head, an action which Dana found endearing.  "Where is this
room, exactly?"

 "Upstairs, right next to..." She paused again, embarrassed for a reason
she was hard pressed to name.  "Right next to our bedroom."



A series of mental images flew into his head and Mulder forced them away
through sheer strength of will.  "Okay, then.  I'll break in, and search
it.  You've just got to get me into the house."  He paused for a moment,
weighing the possibilities.  An idea hit him, and he shared it.

 "Tell dear Anton that you want to throw a party, and I'll come as a
guest.  That'll give me the opportunity I need."

 A stricken look crossed Dana's face, and when she spoke, her words were
hushed.  "Anton isn't much interested in entertaining just yet."

 More dark images flashed in Mulder's brain, and before he could help
himself, he snarled, "Oh, I see.  The honeymoon isn't over, is that it?" 
Dana flushed, and he knew he should stop, but he couldn't.  "Don't
underestimate your charms, my dear.  I'm sure you can convince him."

 "It won't be so easy about you," Dana replied casually, as though she was
discussing the weather.  "He thinks... Anton thinks you're in love with
me."    

 Perceptive man, Mulder thought.  

 "Well," he answered, never moving his eyes from hers, "tell him that if
you invite me, and I come to the party and see how happily married you
are, the horrid passion I have for you will be torn out of me forever."

 If his words affected her, Dana showed no sign of it.  With her composure
completely intact, she remarked, "Sounds like a logical plan to me."

 Though it was the sort of answer he'd expected, Mulder couldn't help but
feel disappointed in her response.  "Fine, then."  He stood up from the
bench and offered her his hand as she stood beside him.  "I'll wait for my
invitation.  Good day, Mrs. Valenkov."

 "Good day, Mr. Mulder," Dana answered, moving off into the park as
gracefully as she'd arrived.



It hadn't been nearly as easy to convince Valenkov as Mulder had intimated
it would be, but at long last Dana had succeeded in achieving her goal. 
The party had been the first hurdle -- Valenkov had been extremely
reluctant to open their house to revelers. 

 "Why don't we host a party at the club, darling," he had asked.  "That
would be just as good a time, and a lot less hassle."

 "But Anton," she had pleaded, "the house is so lovely, and I do so want
to show it off.  Please, will you do this for me?"  She'd flashed him her
most alluring smile, and it had finally done the trick.  

 Getting Mulder on the guest list was quite another matter, and the
resulting row had terrified Dana to the point where she had literally run
out of the house.  

 Valenkov had found her there, in the garden, and she had been afraid
until she saw that most of his fury had dissipated.  "I'm sorry, my love,"
he had said.  "I don't mean to be so jealous."

 "Then why do you act as you do?" she had asked, hands on her hips,
masking her fear with trumped-up anger.  "Don't you trust me?"

 "Of course I do, darling," Valenkov had replied, pulling her into his
arms, stroking her hair as she did her best not to cringe.  "It has
nothing to do with my not trusting you.  When you're as much in love as I
am, any man who even looks at your woman is a menace."

 "I understand," she had whispered, anxious to be free of his embrace.  

 The hug finally ended, but before he released her completely, Valenkov
had tilted her chin up to face him.  "*Do* you understand me, Dana?  I
hope that you do."

 Fortunately, that incident was now several days behind them, and with the
house full of guests, Dana was doing her best to forget it.  She walked
through the rooms arm in arm with Valenkov, the picture of newlywed
happiness, searching the crowd more frantically for Mulder with each
passing second.  The party had been in full swing for nearly two hours
already, and she'd seen no sign of him.

 "Darling?"  Valenkov's voice cut into her reverie, and she looked up to
see that a man had joined them.  He wasn't quite as tall as Valenkov, but
his bearded countenance was equally as formidable.  "I want to introduce
you to Mr. Sergei Druyev.   Mr. Druyev, may I present my wife, Dana."

 "It is a pleasure," said Dana, offering her hand to the man, who raised
it to his lips for a kiss.

 "The pleasure is mine, madam," said Druyev, his eyes like steel as they
bored into her own.  "I can easily understand why Anton has lost his heart
to one as beautiful as you."

 Valenkov turned to her, an apologetic look on his face.  "Darling, will
you excuse me for just a moment?  I need to discuss a bit of business."

 "Certainly, Anton," Dana answered, smiling at her husband as lovingly as
she could manage.  "I'll be waiting for you."

 With a nod of his head, Valenkov followed Druyev towards the bar, and
Dana decided to make another circle of the main rooms before checking in
the garden.  

 As she made her way across the parlor, Dana noticed the front door open
and someone enter the foyer.  She quickened her steps as the man removed
his coat and she realized it was Mulder.  Her breath caught at the sight
of his tall, lanky frame.  He was regally handsome in a black tuxedo, his
hair impeccably styled with what she suspected must have been a Herculean
effort.  Quelling the impulse to shout his name, Dana headed towards the
foyer.

           

"May I take your coat, sir?"

 "Certainly," Mulder replied, handing his overcoat to the butler.  He
glanced around the foyer, noticing the posh elegance of the place, struck
less by the decor than by the money it was so obvious Valenkov had spent
to impress his new bride. 

 "Mr. Mulder, welcome."  It was her voice, the same sweet alto that
haunted his dreams, and Mulder's heart began to race as he turned towards
the sound. 

 Dana stood there, smiling at him, and she was so beautiful that Mulder
felt as though his heart would break.  Her auburn hair was piled atop her
head in a sophisticated upsweep that set off the strand of pearls around
her neck.  The dress she wore was strapless, a black silk number that
cascaded to the floor.  She wore a matching pair of black silk gloves that
stopped a bit above her elbows, leaving her shoulders and back enticingly
bare.  

 "I'm so glad you could join us," she continued, and Mulder managed to
snap himself out of his daze enough to reply.  

 "Thank you for the invitation," he replied, taking her gently by the arm.
 Bringing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "Is there someplace
that we can talk?  Anton is watching."

 Dana looked up and saw what Mulder had already noticed.  Valenkov was
standing with a group of men on the far side of the parlor, his eyes fixed
on Dana.

 "He's a bit jealous," she replied, her voice low.  "But I can handle him.
 I think we'll be alright if we share a dance -- he can't object to that. 
It is a party, after all."

 "Right you are," Mulder answered.  In a more normal tone of voice, he
asked, "May I have this dance, Mrs. Valenkov?"

 She nodded, her eyes shining, and he escorted her into the ballroom.  



Though the dance floor was crowded, it might as well have been empty, as
far as Dana was concerned.  Mulder was an excellent dancer, better than
she would have expected, whirling her around the floor with the practiced
steps of a professional.  It felt so good to be in his strong arms, to
feel his hand against the small of her back as he guided her through the
steps.  For a brief moment, she gave into temptation and rested her head
against his chest, but the sensation was so powerful it made her dizzy and
she quickly pulled away.

 "You alright?" Mulder asked, twirling her in the opposite direction this
time.

 "Fine, just fine," she replied, unable to conceal her pleasure.

 He smiled at her, and gazing up into his eyes, for a moment Dana could
almost believe that things had never changed between them.  "Good," he
answered.  "I wouldn't want to embarrass you."

 "Don't worry," she teased, returning the smile.  "I'll be sure and let
you know if you do."



Although Mulder would have been more than content to spend the rest of the
night -- not to mention the rest of his life -- dancing with Dana, he was
all too aware that his welcome at the party had a finite time span
attached to it.  He had a job to do, and he'd be a fool not to do it.

 Still, it was intoxicating to be so near to her, to smell the heady scent
of her perfume, to feel her silken hair brush against his chin as he held
her close.   Mulder sighed, and forced himself to push pleasure aside, at
least for the moment.

 "Where's the room, Dana?" he asked, careful to keep his tone
conversational.  

 "Up the stairs," she murmured.  "Take a left, and then it's the third
door on the right."

 "Any reason to think old Anton will be coming upstairs?"

 Dana shook her head.  "None at all -- but I'll keep an eye on him.  If he
seems restless, I'll come up and find you."

 "Okay then.  I'm going to head up there now.  If you don't see me return
in twenty minutes, I've run up against a problem, and it'll be your job to
distract him.  Understood?"

 "Understood."  Dana offered him a little smile.  "Please, Mulder.  Be
careful -- you don't know what he's capable of."

 Something dark in her tone gave him pause and Mulder was tempted to
question her further, but he knew time was of the essence.  "I will," he
promised, escorting her off of the dance floor.  In a voice designed to be
overheard, he said, "Thank you for the dance, Mrs. Valenkov."

 "Any time, Mr. Mulder," she graciously replied.

 Mulder threw her a wink and then turned towards the stairs.

X-5            X-5