9-96
From Saraid: Greetings and salutations. That's some terrific,
radiant pig. Okay, this is part four, you need to read the others
to know what's going on (Catch up!). As always, not very happy
stuff, but pain is good for the soul. (Yes, I actually believe
that)

details: Hey, CC, I've got an idea -- you let me use your
characters and I'll let you use mine. Wha?! You're not
interested? C'mon, please. I beg very well (among other things...
:). Oh, well, I'll just borrow them for a while (since they are
yours) and tidy up some loose ends. Or unravel new ones...it's
not like I'm getting paid for this, so don't sue me. I'd have to
give you a teenager, and, believe me, they're more trouble than
they're worth.

The rating on this is PG or PG-13. Lots of UST, some language,
nothing violent. All relationship stuff (There'll be a case in
the next one, I promise) and DS in a hot dress (What did you
think of the one she wore to the Emmys? I'm taking a poll)
dancing with somebody else. Yes, it's going to get darker
before...well...I never said it was ever going to get brighter,
did I? (There's always Hope, but she's on another show :)

Another Dancer, one of my characters, is in here, and I'll have
to ask you now not to borrow him because I'm moving the whole 
Dancer pack into a real book. I have a few ideas about them...

The song at the end is Simple by Collective Soul, off their first
album. You've probably heard it on the radio, but you don't get
the full effect until you set it on repeat on the stereo and
listen to it thirty or forty times at high volume with headphones
while you're writing...honest. Buy the album and then maybe they
won't sue me since I gave them free publicity. Not like they need
it.

As always, comments and critiques to matsu@wf.net I haven't heard
many yet -- thanks, Stef! -- and I'll probably quit if I don't
get some soon <G>
                                    
                                    
                                The Tower

Part#1
Windows

     "You will do this, Agent Mulder."
     AD Skinner stood over him, his bearing ramrod straight,
glaring down at Mulder, who was glaring back with equal heat.
Beside him Scully clenched her hands in her lap -- relieved she
wasn't being chewed, but afraid of Mulder's reaction. He'd become
very careless lately, forging ahead and damning the consequences.
     Apparently Skinner had noticed.
     "Tell me why I should." Mulder almost snarled, a severe
breech of etiquette. Reflexively Scully raised her hand, to touch
his arm and calm him, but pulled it back with inches to spare.
     "Because the Bureau wishes you to." Skinner said it slowly,
explaining as if to a child. "Because I am telling you to."
     "That's not good enough." Mulder met him stare for stare.
     Skinner sat on the edge of his desk, arms crossed in front
of him. Anyone else might have thought he was relaxing and
accepting Mulder's objections, but Scully knew better.
     "Do you like your job, Agent Mulder?" he asked, his voice
dangerously soft.
     "I need it." it wasn't really an answer. Scully wanted to
ask what do you need it for, but kept her mouth shut. Mulder
hadn't been answering many of her questions lately.
     "Then you will do as I say." Skinner looked disgusted. "I've
put my ass on the line for the two of you more than once and now
you're going to do something for me."
     "Excuse me, sir." Scully spoke up deferentially. "Just how
will the two of us going to this conference and presenting be to
your benefit?"
     "It will prove, hopefully, that you are still team players -
- and that I can still control you."
     Seeing Mulder prepare to blast that idea, Scully spoke again
quickly. "And the topic of the papers? You insist that it be -"
     "Something normal, Agent Scully. No metamorphing
intergalactic bounty hunters. No non-terrestrial retroviruses.
Something that shows the two of you can still do good
investigative work." he turned his attention back to Mulder.
"You've had academic papers published, Agent Mulder. I've even
read a couple of them. It doesn't have to be difficult."
     Mulder stared sullenly. Personally, Scully found this
particular expression very attractive on him, but she was
relatively sure Skinner wouldn't.
     "He's not asking us to back off, Mulder." she said quietly.
"Just to play it straight for a weekend."
     He looked at her, long and hard. She could feel Skinner's
eyes on her as she met Mulder's.
     There was a moment of silence and then Mulder looked away,
at the window, past Skinner.
     "I suppose you'll want to read them before we go." he said
caustically.
     Skinner stood and walked back around his desk, sitting in
the chair and picking up a file. He answered without looking at
them.
     "This isn't third grade, Mulder, and I'm not your mother.
You're a professional. Write a professional paper."
     He opened the file and ignored them. Knowing they were
dismissed Mulder and Scully got up and left.
     When Scully would have turned to back down to the basement
Mulder stopped her with a touch on her arm.
     "Let's get some air." he said stiffly.

     They had walked six blocks when he stopped by a hot-dog
vendor. "Want one?"
     She shook her head and grimaced as he loaded his up with
mustard and onions. He caught it and grinned at her, his mouth
full.
     They went to sit on the base of yet another stone monument
glorifying something...Scully had no idea what.
     He gulped down the hot dog and they say quietly until he
felt like speaking.
     "The rub of it is I've been working on a paper." he sighed.
"It's perfect."
     "What's the topic?"
     His mouth twisted, as he leaned back on his forearms.
     "Environmental Delusional Adaptations."
     "What?" she had no idea what he was talking about.
     "The ability of a delusional or psychotic personality to see
the world around them as they belie it to be. Like Don Quixote."
     "You're going to do a paper on Don Quixote?"
     "It was just an example, Scully." he sighed. "Some of them
come up with surprisingly creative rationalizations to explain
those things that don't fit their world-view."
     "Everyone does that."
     "Wait until you hear it." he held up a hand. "We can argue
about it then."
     She nodded, and he got up, offering her a hand down. They
began to walk back.
     "What will you do?" it was said with casual curiosity, but
she hoped he meant more by it than that, that he was actually
interested...three months ago she would have been sure he was.
     "I've been jotting down ideas for the last six months." she
said, waving her hand vaguely. "I'll come up with something."
     "Yeah." he sighed. "I know you will."
     He didn't say anything else until they got back downstairs. 
     And then he only talked about work.

Part#2
Chambers

     "I hate this." Mulder snarled in Scully's ear as they walked
into the large, brightly lit atrium of the Four Seasons, New
York.
     There were tables scattered across the floor, signs hung
with agency and division numbers on them. Scully spotted theirs
and steered him toward it.
     The room was crowded. There was a bar at the other end, and
people were wandering through carrying drinks, greeting old
friends and studying the newcomers.
     Scully felt many eyes upon her as she approached the table,
and it wasn't because of the conservative dark suit she was
wearing.
     They were watching Mulder. And she could tell from the rigid
set of his jaw that he knew it.
     "Hi." the girl at the table greeted them with a bright
smile. "You're FBI?"
     "We are. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, Washington." Scully
said.
     The girl looked over her box, and pulled out two brown
envelopes, heavy.
     "Here ya go." she said. "Your room numbers are on the front
-" she read glanced at them "- and the keys are in there, along
with your speaking times and conference rooms. I think you have a
suite." she said helpfully. "If you have any questions, you can
ask them now or get hold of me later. I'm Martha."
     "Hi, Martha." Mulder suddenly smiled down at her and Scully
saw the girl's eyes widen with appreciation. "You're doing a
great job here." he continued, turning on the charm. Scully felt
nauseous.
     "I try, Agent Mulder -- Fox, isn't it?" she was melting at
his feet. Scully understood why -- he was handsome and sexy in
that suit and the badge didn't hurt. And when he smiled like
that...she realized he hadn't smiled at her that way in a very
long time. Since she was raped, or even before.
     As her partner chatted up the hotel clerk Scully suddenly
realized that they were much further apart than she'd thought.
She couldn't remember the last time he had really smiled at her.
     Shocked but not showing it, she nudged him in the ribs.
Martha looked offended.
     "Let's get out stuff up, Mulder." she said, pointing to the
stack of bags by the entrance to the atrium. More people were
coming in and adding to the pile and she didn't want to have to
dig for it.
     There was a group of men who had turned away from the bar
and were headed toward them purposefully. Mulder glanced at them,
then cheerfully excused himself from the girl, promising to call
her if he needed "-anything." she stressed.
     They got their bags and managed to avoid the curious group
by taking the first elevator although their rooms were far to the
back.
     Scully opened her envelope, startled.
     "Mulder, we do have a suite. Do you think there's been a
mistake?"
     "All of the presenters get one, Scully. Each office picked
two people to present papers and those people get a suite to
share." he shook his head at her. "Didn't you read the intro
notes?"
     "I was trying to finish the paper..." 
     "It will be okay, Scully." he said from behind her as the
doors opened. He picked up both cases and garment bags, leaving
her with just the envelopes. "Lead on."
     Not protesting, she did.

     It was a nice suite, she thought as she came out of her
bedroom into the shared living room. Mulder was already sprawled
on the large sofa, remote in one hand, sunflower seeds in the
other. And he was dropping the damp shells on the carpet.
     "The maids are gonna love you. Don't you have a bed?" she
sounded shrewish to her own ears and hated it. 
     "I'll try it tonight." he flipped channels rapidly, not
staying on one long enough to let her see what it was.
     "I'm going to hang out my dress for tomorrow. Do you want me
to do your tux too?"
     "I'm not going tomorrow night, Scully." he didn't look at
her. 
     She snatched the remote from his hand and sat on the sofa
beside him, angry.
     "You told Skinner you'd play it straight this weekend,
Mulder. He wants us to go out and be normal and that's damned
well what we're gonna do!"
     He stared at her. She never swore.
     "Who pissed in your oatmeal?"
     She stood, stung by his crudeness.
     "I'll go to the dinner, but not the dance." he said sharply.
"There's no need to put myself through that."
     Maybe that's what Skinner wants, Dana thought. Maybe he
wants Mulder to know how other people think of him.
     "Skinner will chew you up and spit you out." she warned
darkly.
     "A few more scars will hardly be noticeable." he shrugged.
"Can I have the remote back, please?"
     With a hiss she threw it at him, even angrier when he caught
it neatly in his hand.
     With a glare she went back to her room to hang the wrinkles
out of her dress.

     She'd bought it last week. The day after they agreed to go,
she'd decided she didn't have anything dressy enough -- okay,
okay, new enough -- for such an important event. She hadn't
needed to dress up in ages.
     It had been fun shopping for something fancy. And she had
chosen this dress for a very particular reason. There had been
others she liked, one even more than this one.
     But this one would drive Mulder crazy.
     Hanging it up in the bathroom and turning the shower on hot
for a few minutes she reached to stroke the soft, stretchy
velvet. It wasn't black and it wasn't purple, somewhere in
between, cut almost to the butt in back, criss-crossed with
sparkling black cut-glass beads that wrapped once around her neck
and then draped down the deep valley in front.
     Well, she thought, looking down at herself, it isn't so deep
now, but the right kind of bra can do wonders.

     Mulder knocked on her bedroom door over an hour later. She
opened it and frowned. He was wearing the same suit he'd arrived
in. She had changed into something more comfortable, less
tailored, a cream linen pantsuit with a soft green silk shell.
     His suit looked like he'd slept in it.
     Or at least rolled around on a sofa.

     "Ready?" he asked, not looking at her face.
     "Are you?" she jibed and then regretted it. "Yes. Are you
hungry?"
     "If the speeches don't turn my stomach." he led her out of
the room and to the banquet room, which was filling up fast.
     They took their plates and walked past the buffet, Mulder
piling food on his while Scully was a little more selective.     
When they got to the end and he had his iced tea they looked for
someplace to sit.
     Sweeping the room, Mulder saw someone who looked familiar.
     "See him?" he nudged Scully, who was noticing that people
were staring at them again. She glanced, but couldn't see who he
was talking about. "I think I know him."
     She didn't resist when he stepped behind her and gently
pushed her in the right direction.
     He goal, she soon saw, was the last table in the row, at the
very back of the room.
     "Don't be so paranoid." she scolded.
     "No, look." he insisted, guiding her with his tea glass at
her back. She hoped it didn't slosh, it would be heck to get out
of linen. But she did look, at the small group of men seated, and
soon saw what he meant.
     She'd only seen him for a few minutes, in moonlight, and
she'd been held in mid-air by a teenage vampire at the time, but
this man looked like Richard Dancer.
     "He told me he had a brother who was with the Bureau in
California." Mulder leaned to speak in her ear. People were
watching. "Shall we join him?"
     She glanced up at him. He looked suddenly cheerful. A
mystery often did that to him.
     She followed him over to the table.
     Dancer -- if it was his brother -- saw them coming and waved
them over. The other men looked up and stood as Scully came to
the table.
     Mulder held her chair and she smiled, amused by this old-
world courtesy.
     "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder." Dancer -- it had to be him --
held out his hand warmly. Mulder shook it realizing that it was
as disproportionately large as Richard's had been. "It's a real
pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
     "You know them?" one of the other men spoke up.
     "This is Agent DeAtley, my partner, and Agents Hayward and
Graham. Scully and Mulder assisted my brother on a case a few
months back."
     "Dana." Dana said with a smile. He was just like his
brother, small and slender and graceful. His hands moved through
the air like music as he talked.
     Mulder sat as the others did and began to eat.
     "Mulder." he said casually. "You know, I never did hear from
your brother after that case. Any idea how I could get in touch
with him?"
     "Ruarke." Dancer smiled at Dana and she saw appreciation in
his eyes. "But you can call me Ru."
     "And you'll rue the day you do." his partner added with a
grin. "John."
     Scully chuckled at the pun, realizing DeAtley must make it
at least once a day.
     "He's gone back home to visit family." Dancer told Mulder.
"It's pretty inaccessible."
     "Don't tell me." Mulder folded a slice of beef in half, then
in quarters, and put it in his mouth while Scully winced.
"Antarctica." he chewed.
     "New Road, Alaska." Scully saw the man's dark eyes dance
with amusement. "They don't have any phone lines for three months
of the year."
     "Close enough." Mulder continued eating. The others glanced
curiously at him, but went on with their own meals. Scully
stared, dismayed by his table manners.
     She talked to Dancer and the others, finding Dancer himself
very interesting, even intriguing, but in a light-hearted way
Mulder could never match.
     "You may be the most cheerful agent in the Bureau." she
teased.
     "I have to make up for my brothers. They're doom 'n gloom
all the way. Like him." Dancer smiled at Mulder to take the sting
out of it, but Mulder ignored him, working on a third piece of
chocolate layer cake.
     Scully was worried. She'd seen him really eat before, but
this was ridiculous.
     "Brothers?" Mulder looked up. "There's another one of you?"
     "Actually, we're two sets of twins. Richard has a twin
sister, Renee', and I have a twin brother, Rafael. Interestingly
enough, he's a dancer."
     Scully laughed lightly.
     "He's in a show here in New York." Dancer continued. "I've
got tickets to see him Sunday night. I can get a couple for you
if you'd like."
     "What show?" Mulder asked, considering it. Scully was
surprised, Broadway shows weren't really his style. But, of
course, he thought something strange was going on here.
     "Epthimalion. It's gotten really good reviews. Rafe is the
second lead."
     "We could take a later flight out..." Mulder was thinking
about it.
     "Show's at eight. We're flying out at midnight." Dancer
provided.
     "It wouldn't be a problem?" Scully asked.
     "He always reserves at least six, in case any family shows
up." Dancer said. "I haven't seen him in a year."
     "But won't there be a full moon tomorrow night?" Mulder
asked suddenly, quietly.
     "It was last week..." Dancer stopped and stared at him, his
smile fading and then widening again. "Sneaky, Agent Mulder."
     Scully stared from one to the other, confused.
     "I would love to see that show." Mulder said softly.
     "I'll see what I can do." Dancer said.
     The others at the table were looking as confused as Scully.
She was about to demand an explanation but there was a woman
getting up at the podium and the ceremony was starting.

     She sat back, watching Mulder watch Dancer and knowing that
Dancer was watching her.
     His intense scrutiny was flattering and made her feel light-
headed.
     He really was attractive.

     
     "What time is it?" 
     Scully glanced up from her conversation with Dancer and
looked at Mulder, who was nursing his third beer as they sat in
the alcove of the bar. The bar itself was still crowded with
agents and associates, but the alcove was nearly empty.
     Meeting her partner's eyes, the depth of pain in his slid
into Scully's soul and she had to glance away. Although Mulder
claimed he didn't drink because of what it had done to his
father, she knew the real reason -- it let him feel to much,
remember too much. More than he wanted to.
     Dancer was watching the exchange with unobtrusive interest.
     "Just past two." he supplied. "I suppose I should let you
get your sleep, Dana. Although you certainly don't need it."
     She smiled at the graceful compliment, and looked again at
Mulder. He had bowed his head over his hands, still holding the
mostly-empty glass. "You ready to go, Mulder?" she asked quietly.
     "Whatever." he said, his voice low and dead-sounding. They
got up, Dancer with them.
     "I can walk you to your door, can't I?" he asked slyly, and
Dana had to smile again.
     Mulder ignored them and walked out past them. Scully would
have rushed after him, but Dancer stopped her by slipping his arm
through hers.
     "Space, Dana." he said softly, smiling at her. He was only a
few inches taller than she was -- they would be almost even if
she wore heels. "I know what it's like to live with demons. He
needs space."
     They began to walk as Mulder got into the elevator. Dana let
her arm stay through his, feeling very comfortable with this man.
     "Demons, huh?"
     "Hey." he smiled widely. "You show me yours and I'll show
you mine."
     Her outraged gasp was followed by a reluctant chuckle that
followed Mulder as the doors closed and the elevator left her
there, walking with another man.

     Mulder was on the sofa when Scully did get up. She'd hovered
at her door with Dancer, still talking. They had talked about so
much...his family, large and close like hers, his father and
parental expectations, movies, books, music...she felt like she
hadn't had a real conversation in years. And, considering how
things went on the X-Files and her familiar relationship with
Mulder, maybe she hadn't.
     He seemed to be sleeping lightly, so she took a blanket out
of the closet and covered him gently.
     When her bedroom door closed he opened his eyes and stared
into the darkness, one hand clutching a fold of the blanket like
a frightened child.

     He was nowhere in sight when she got up the next morning.
His bedroom door was shut and there was no answer, so she assumed
he was either still sleeping -- in a bed! -- or had already gone
down.
     Dancer was waiting near the elevators, waiting for her to
come down.
     "Like a sunrise backwards." he told her softly.
     "Do you know a lot about sunrises?" she asked as they went
to eat, and his face softened as he answered, oddly serious.
     "Moonrises are more my specialty." it was enigmatic and, try
as she might, she couldn't get him to say one more word on the
subject.

     Mulder woke with a start. He hadn't slept until dawn, and
Scully's knocking had woken him just past. Throwing off the sheet
he climbed out of bed, wearing brown paisley boxers, and then saw
the clock on the nighstand. The numbers seemed to swell and loom
in his mind.
     1:48 p.m. the bright numbers shone serenely, blissfully
unaware that they were ruining his life.
     "Shit!" he yelled at the room in general. Scully was
presenting at 2. How was he going to make it on time?!

     Ten minutes later there was a commotion at the back of the
crowded room as Agent Scully stepped up to the podium on the
small portable stage. At the front table Dancer smiled at her
encouragingly.
     The room was too full, with people standing in back behind
the tables. Most of them room weren't just there to hear her
lecture, she knew. They were here to see The Ice Queen, her
professional persona that many thought was all there was to her.
She hadn't meant to be anything other than coldly professional
when she came in here, but now, suddenly, she wished they thought
differently about her.
     Maybe she could do something about that.
     There was a medium-loud protest from the back and she
thought she spotted a familiar head, one she'd been looking for.
     "If that's my partner --" she said into the mike while
everyone stared -- "would you mind letting him through so I can
have a turn at him?"
     There was a soft wave of laughter at this and the crowd
parted to let him through, straightening his tie, he walked to
the front with cool dignity. Dancer pulled out the empty seat
he'd saved and offered it to him.
     Mulder took it with a bare show of gratitude. And Scully got
started.

     Two hours later she finished up to rousing applause.
Listening avidly, Mulder had kept notes as she spoke, but Dancer,
sitting beside him, quickly noticed that the notes weren't on her
lecture, but rather, an account of comments made while she was
talking, good and bad. With a quick grin he turned his attention
to the people on the other side of the room and did the same.
Mulder acknowledged this with a nod. Neither of them were doctors
and, while the talk was interesting, they could only follow it on
the surface.
     Most of the comments were positive and appropriately
directed, but there were also the "Ice Queen" references and
hints of the rumors about her relationship with Mulder. With his
superior hearing -- Dancer glanced at Mulder and saw that he
wasn't paying attention to him -- Dancer heard more than he knew
he was supposed to. He followed Mulder's lead and wrote it all
down, good and bad. When it came to the Q&A at the end they
alternated writing the questions and answers so that they would
get everything.
     Scully thanked everyone and joined them while they waited
for the next speaker. They were sitting right next to each other
and she paused, wondering who to sit next to, then Dancer moved
over to a recently vacated seat so she could sit between them.
     "How was I?" 
     "Impressive." Dancer spoke first.
     "Professional." Mulder said, and for some reason that made
her smile.
     "Did you get the notes?"
     Dancer had seen her pick up her tape recorder. "Didn't you
tape it?"
     "The tape isn't sensitive enough to pick up things said out
here."
     "All of it." Mulder said flatly, and she rolled her eyes.
     "That bad, huh?"
     "I thought most of the comments were very appreciative."
Dancer said encouragingly.
     "Keep em." she told Mulder. "I'll read over them when we get
home."
     He nodded and held out his hand for Dancer's notes, which he
passed over willingly.
     "So, the next guy is doing evidence storage. Want to get
some lunch?"
     "I'm not hungry." Mulder said, and Scully looked at him,
concerned. "You slept late and you're not hungry? Are you sick,
Mulder?"
     "I'm fine." he said brusquely and dancer wondered why he was
being such a jerk. But apparently  Scully was used to it. 
     "Whatever you say." she turned her attention from her 
apparently sulking partner and to Dancer, who basked in her
attention.
     "What would you like?" he said softly. 
     "Food. Seafood." she amended.
     "There's a great oyster bar here in the hotel. Will that
do?"
     "Perfect." she allowed him to take her hand and lift her out
of her chair. Mulder watched with narrowed eyes. "You coming,
Mulder?"
     "I'm going to go over my notes."
     "Mulder, you have an eidetic memory. you don't need to go
over your notes."
     His face twisted in a wry grin, self-mocking. 
     "I'm trying to come up with a better joke."
     "I have a few." Dancer volunteered, but Scully took his arm
and steered him away, out of the room.
     "What?" Dancer asked.
     "You don't want to know." they left the room. "But I like
jokes."
     "Okay. What does a cross-dressing psychologist wear..."
     Their voices faded out as they went around the corner, not
noticing Mulder coming out and watching them go, his face set in
harsh lines.

     Scully was early for Mulder's lecture. Dancer could tell she
was nervous.
     "Is he going to bomb?" he asked as they took seats right up
front, Scully wanting to give him moral support.
     "Mulder's brilliant." she said, and then sighed. "But
sometimes he has problems bringing it down to everyone else's
level." She opened her binder to a clean sheet. "And he has a ...
reputation."
     Dancer smiled.
     "Don't we all?"
     He was looking into her eyes in a way that made Dana feel
like a schoolgirl again, but the moment was interrupted by
Mulder's entrance.  
     He nodded to Scully, once, and stepped up to the podium. The
room was filling quickly and she could hear murmurs and comments
-- many directed at the fact that his hands were empty, he
brought no notes, charts, or displays.
     Scully caught her breath as he began to speak. Dancer patted
her hand and she relaxed, knowing Mulder, knowing what he was
capable of.
     One and a half later she was realizing that she'd been
wrong. She hadn't known what kind of work Mulder was capable of.
His lecture was brilliant, concise, cutting-edge, and still
accessible. Entertaining as well as educational, delivered in
flawless, flowing prose, his voice perfectly modulated to fill
the room and keep you awake.
     But the comments she was writing weren't at all flattering,
and that made her mad.
     He closed to a lukewarm round of applause and she caught the
unguarded second as he stepped down.
     His face was tight with pain and she knew he'd expected a
better response.
     "What did you think?" he asked, coming to the table.
Everyone was clearing out, Mulder's had been the last lecture of
the day and there was still the big dance tonight, the banquet. 
     "It was wonderful." Dancer said honestly. "I think now I can
really get inside a suspect's head and try to see the world the
way he does."
     Scully nodded agreement.
     "It was everything Skinner wanted it to be." she said and
that got a faint smile.
     "And what did everyone else think?"
     With a shrug Scully shut her binder and stood.
     "Let's go over them together when we get home, 'kay?"
     "That bad." he began to walk away from them, to the door
that led to the back hall, away from the party and everyone else.
     "Mulder." she said softly after him. Dancer could see the
instant he heard it, how his spine stiffened and then he turned,
his look questioning. "Are you coming tonight?"
     No reply.
     "I'd really like you to." she said.
     "Then I will." he left them standing there, Dancer beside
Scully wondering if, perhaps, some of the rumors weren't true.
But he couldn't smell Mulder on her, and that wouldn't go away if
they were in close, frequent contact. It couldn't be washed away,
the scent of a lover. It became part of you.
     But Scully only smelled like Scully.

     
     She stepped out of her bedroom with a nervous flutter in her
stomach. Mulder had seen her in some great outfits over the
years. Even a few dresses. But nothing, nothing like this. 
     She hoped he wasn't too shocked.
     Then again, maybe she hoped he was.
     She was standing in front of the TV, catching up on CNN when
he came out. His suit was perfect, black-on-black pinstripe over
a black shirt, with -- oh, geez -- a perfect tie. The perfect
tie. Shining with a touch of silvery glimmer, it had tiny
diagonal stripes in dark green that almost looked black.
     The suit defined his shoulders, and shaped other parts of
him that Scully didn't usually notice. 
      "You look great." she said suddenly, not realizing that
she'd been holding her breath until he met her eyes.
     His face didn't change from its serious, sad expression, but
she saw the appreciation in his eyes. He would tell her how great
she looked, as soon he stopped staring.
     "Ready?"
     She nodded, and he offered his arm, and then there was a
knock on the door.
     They looked at each other.
     Then he went to open the door.
     Dancer smiled gently at both of them, looking poised and
calm in his dark blue suit. He wore a black bow tie.
     "I thought I'd walk you down." he said, seeming slightly
embarrassed.
     Scully wasn't sure what to say. Glancing at Mulder she saw
that he was staring at the wall behind her now. Gently he pulled
his arm from hers.
     "The more the merrier." he said to Dancer.
     After giving him a hard look Dancer offered his arm to Dana,
who took it unhappily. As they walked down the hall she kept
looking at Mulder, who was still studying the walls.
     What was he thinking? Why was he acting like this?
     She felt that the answers would be important, but didn't
know how to get them.

Part#3
Spiral Stairs
     
     It was nice dancing with someone when she could see their
eyes.
     Dana relaxed into Dancer's arms, smiling at him. His green
eyes smiled back. He was stronger than she'd expected, but that
wasn't a surprise. He was a surprise.
     "Tuppence?" he leaned his head close to whisper, and she
grinned.
     "You want British thoughts?"
     "Any thoughts you might have." he smiled widely, revealing
large, even teeth. "French, german, dutch..."
     "Kind of an international thought maven."
     "Exactly." he twirled her around slowly and she caught sight
of Mulder, sitting alone at the table they had taken. He hadn't
asked her to dance once all evening. "So....?" 
     He was waiting for an answer. Flustered, she returned her
attention to him with an apologetic smile.
     "I was just thinking how nice it is to be able to look at
the man I'm dancing with."
     "It's a nice change for me as well." true to his name he
moved with innate grace. "It's not often I find a woman my size
in our line of work, and never one so beautiful."
     Caught off-guard by the compliment Dana blushed. They went
past the table again and her eyes were drawn to Mulder, who was
watching the walls again. Or, perhaps, the shadows on the walls.
He looked so alone...
     "It's too bad your heart is already taken."
     Dancer's soft comment brought her back to her senses and she
almost stopped in the middle of the floor, but he swept her on
and regained their momentum. Dana didn't reply, just looked down
at his chest.
     "It's not obvious to everyone, if you're worried about it. I
have...particular...powers of perception. Not quite an X-File,
but it serves my purpose. I just wish there was something I could
do to make this easier for you."
     Now Dana found the courage to raise her head and meet his
eyes.
     "Mulder and I are partners."
     "More than you know." Dancer smiled, a soft, kind smile. "Is
it so hard for him to love?"
     "Hard to trust, harder to love." she sighed. "I thought I
was happy with things the way they are, but, sometimes..."
     "You want more. I understand." his smile widened again,
became a mischievous grin. "I'd be glad to do anything you'd like
that would make you feel better."
     Now Dana grinned back at him, enjoying his attention.
     "If I didn't know better, that sounded like a pass."
     "Who said you knew better?"
     He grinned down at her as he swept her across the floor
again, past Mulder and his brooding. They didn't notice when his
eyes left the walls and focused on them.

     She was smiling at him, laughing into his eyes and Mulder
felt another tiny part of himself die. It was good to feel it
because he was the one killing it. It was good to feel anything.
Even if he didn't know why. Even if he couldn't stop it.
     
     The song ended and the dancers applauded briefly before
another began. Dancer led Scully back to the table. They fit well
together, her slender fairness against his dark strength.
     Mulder sighed, and Scully noticed.
     "Are you done pouting, Mulder?" she asked firmly, taking his
hand. "You owe me a dance."
     "For what?" his sly grin manifested unexpectedly.
     "I'm sure there was something..." she tugged gently,
twirling the hem of her skirt with her other hand. That dress...!
It made it hard for him to breathe, much less think. But he had
to think. "Saving your life a dozen times, feeding you more..."
     "Shooting me?" now it was a real grin as she blushed and
Dancer spoke up.
     "You shot him?"
     "There were extenuating circumstances." Scully muttered.
     "And she did take very good care of me afterwards." Mulder
added and was rewarded with another blush. Dancer looked from one
to the other.
     "I know there's a story behind that, but I'm not gonna ask."
he looked around briefly. "There's my partner, annoying the
natives. I'd better go rescue him."
     He headed off in the direction of the crowd surrounding his
partner and they watched.
     "I wonder if he's as good as pulling his partner out of the
fire as you are." Mulder said.
     "Only if his partner's as good at getting into trouble as
you are." she pulled again and he stood reluctantly and led her
to the dance floor. The band was playing a waltz, and he pulled
her close, her arms around his waist, his around hers.
     "You know, when it was first invented - can you invent a
dance? - the waltz was considered scandalous because the man and
woman were so close to each other." he said softly.
     "I could see where people would get that idea." Scully
answered, resting her head lightly on his chest. Her eyes crossed
and she stared for a minute at his tie, and then pulled her head
back to focus on it clearly. "Mulder!"
     "What?" she could tell from the tone of his voice that he
was enjoying his joke on conformity.
     The thin green stripes on the tie were actually tiny little
aliens laid end-to-end.
     "I was wondering when you'd notice."
     "That's...that's awful!" she tried to sound outraged, but a
chuckle escaped. "Has anyone else noticed?"
     "Not a one. They just aren't as observant as you are." he
smiled happily, proud of his little joke and she smiled back. If
he was still up to a private joke like that he had to be okay. 
     But he excused himself after the single dance, leaving her
confused and a little lonely. But it wasn't long before Dancer
and John came to her rescue.

     Scully laughed at the face Dancer made as they got off the
crowded elevator.
     "I always feel like Dr.McCoy on the transporter." he
confided, and then put on a hokey southern accent; "Dammit, Jim,
I'm a doctor, not a sardine!"
     She laughed again, wondering if it was the wine or the
company. He linked his arm through hers and they made their way
down the hall. Although Dancer had drank twice as much as she
had, he didn't seem to be affected.
     She stopped at the suite door and turned to face him,
finding him suddenly very close. His arms moved to either side of
her head as he leaned, inches between them.
     "You can come to my room, Dana." he whispered. "Just to sit,
and talk, and, maybe, snuggle a little."
     She hadn't had a man suggest snuggling since high school.
And then it had been a ploy to get into her pants. But, somehow,
she didn't think that was what this man was after.
     "I like you too much to do anything else now." he added, his
mouth warm on her ear, his breath on her neck.
     With a sigh Dana wrapped her arms around his shoulders and
pulled him to her for a kiss.
     It was soft and warm and friendly. She could tell he was
holding back, trying not to push her, and so she pushed him,
opening her mouth and becoming more aggressive.
     He responded willingly, but broke off after just a few
seconds, lifting her away from him and stepping back, his hands
still on her arms.
     "Dana." he studied her with dark eyes. "This isn't the time
or place. You're not ready to move on yet."
     "dammit." she whispered, rubbing her eyes. "It must be the
wine."
     "I'm not complaining." he said. "And I'm not saying
never...but you should know some things. In my own way, I'm as
driven and tormented as Mulder. You would only be trading one
hard case for another. Maybe you should stick with the one you've
got."
     "I don't know what I've got." she said, sounding forlorn. He
pulled her close for a hard hug and released her quickly.
     "You need to find out before you give it up."
     He leaned close and brushed a kiss across her cheek.
     "Goodnight, Dana. Happy hunting."
     She watched him go down the hall and leaned against the
door, trying to order her whirling mind.
     
     He was sitting on the sofa, in the same place and the same
position he'd sat in after he'd walked in the door and hit play
on the boombox.
     Just being still.
     Nobody understood this, that sometimes this was all he could
do. The music, loud noise played at low volume, moved for him.
     Sit still.

     She walked in at three o'clock in the morning. Her face was
flushed and her hair was mussed and she looked more beautiful
than he'd ever seen her. So beautiful it hurt, and he had to
close his eyes.
     He felt the weight beside him as she sat and almost groaned
with despair. Not now. Not tonight.
     He couldn't deal with this tonight.
     Her voice was so sad when it came that he wanted to cry.
     "What are you doing to me, Mulder?"
     He didn't answer, just squeezed his eyes tighter shut.
     "A man -- an interesting, engaging, attractive man -- likes
me and all I can think about is you and what's bothering you.
It's so bad even he knows something is up, and so he pushes me
away."
     His mouth worked. There were words he could say now, words
that would fix this...but he'd forgotten them.
     He was forgetting a lot these days; How sweet she smelled,
how badly her pain cut him... 
     "We've never talked about this, Mulder, and I need to. I
need to know what the future holds for us."
     He found words. They weren't the right ones, but he said
them anyhow, just so she wouldn't keep talking.
     "Not now, Scully. I can't do this now."
     Movement beside him as she shifted, then her hand on his
face, turning it to her.
     "Yes now, Mulder. It won't get any easier by waiting."
     He opened his eyes and heard her soft gasp, which told him
what he'd already known, that his heart was shining through them.
     He pulled his face from her hand, turning away again. She
leaned over his back, her mouth against his ear, hands on his
shoulders, hair brushing his neck.
     "Tell me, Mulder. Let me help."
     He jerked away, jumping to his feet and backing away from
her. His eyes were wide now, filled with pain and anger. She sat
back, giving him space to vent, crossing her arms over a throw
pillow, eager, yet afraid of the storm to come.
     "You don't understand." he hissed. "You haven't been around
when it's like this -- when I'm like this. There's nothing you
can do!"
     "Tell me about it." she urged. He clenched his hands into
fists before him, then twisted them together brutally. She winced
at the sound of painfully cracking knuckles.
     "You're a doctor - you know what depression is." he said it
hard, accusing.
     "I don't know what yours is."
     "It never goes away, Scully!" he shouted, then his voice
dropped to a plaintive whine, a plea. "It's always there...the
list of things I've screwed up, the people I've hurt, the chances
I've missed. They never go away, and they all say the same thing:
why do I keep trying?!"
     "Because you want to do what's right." she said, hugging the
pillow closer.
     "It's more than that!" he started to move and stopped
himself, becoming very still again. "It's like a hunger, Scully.
I'm hungry for violence, for pain -- for anything that will fill
this hole inside me where I used to be. I have to be -- be still,
and quiet until it goes away. Until I can trust myself again."
     "You're still there, Mulder. You've just lost sight of
yourself for a little while."
     He bowed his head, closing his eyes, hands clenched
together. His voice dropped to a whisper.
     "I'm afraid to shave, Scully." he rubbed his cheek on his
shoulder and she heard the rasping of stubble in her head. "I
drive and I look off overpasses, wondering. I carry my gun every
day and suddenly I want to do more than that with it."
     Scully sat up, afraid to approach him, leaning forward,
wanting her words to reach him.
     "It will get better, Mulder. It will." 
     She didn't suggest doctors or anti-depressant drugs. A hint
of this and he'd lose the X-Files for good. And they were
probably the only thing keeping him alive.
     "I make a list every morning, Scully. Reasons to live versus
reasons to die."
     "What are the reasons to live, Mulder?" she asked softly. 
     "That's the thing, Scully. They're the same." he gave a
short bark of laughter. "You. And Samantha. And the X-Files.
Those are the reasons I need to live. And those are the reasons I
want to die."
     Sitting back, wishing she'd paid more attention in abnormal
psych or done a psych rotation during her internship, Dana
listened and watched with worry creasing her dainty features.
     "Every time something happens I think: At last. This -
this - is bad enough. Now I can justify it. People will
understand. But as long as Samantha's gone and you're here I
can't. No matter how..." his voice faded and he gulped, then
continued. "...how badly I want to."
     "I'm glad you can't." she said softly. "There's a chance
that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you, Mulder, and
I don't want you to throw that away."
     He turned his back on her, wrapping his arms around his
shoulders, head still down. She could barely make out his next
words.
     "There's no chance of that, Scully. I love you too much to
do that to you."
     Dana wasn't sure which shocked her the most - that he'd
finally told her he loved her, or that he'd done it after saying
they couldn't have a life together.
     "If you love me, Scully, you'll go on without me. Have the
life you want, the things I can't give you. A man without demons,
someone who will love you and not need you as much as I do.
You can still have all those things, Scully; a life, a family,
children." 
     There was a long pause as Dana fought to stay away from him,
to let him finish. 
     "Have them for me, Scully."
     He walked away, to the window, where he leaned with his head
against the glass. She wondered briefly, wildly, if that made him
want to jump. She got up, walked to a foot away, reached out a
hand but didn't touch him.
     "Mulder..." she said on a sigh. "I..."
     "Shhhhhh..." he sighed as well, not moving. "Please, Scully.
Please. Let it be."
     There was something in the air between them. Dana could feel
it, touch it, but she couldn't see it.
     A wall. Taller and thicker than any he'd thrown up before.
     Suddenly she was too tired, too sad to climb it.
     "Goodnight, Mulder." she said softly, drawing back her hand.
     He didn't answer - she didn't expect him to - and she went
to her room to undress for bed, throwing the new dress onto the
floor like a rag and climbing into bed exhausted, fighting tears.
     And then she did cry, for both of them, because he couldn't
cry for himself.

     When he was sure she wasn't coming back out he loosened his
arms and walked to the sofa, sitting carefully in the same
position, the same spot. His only movement was to turn up the
volume on the box, just a little louder, so he could hear the
song and not his screaming heart.

     Hey, hey, can't you see?
     Love is all that you should need.
     Can't you see?

     Ease your troubled mind.
     Let love seek and let love find. It's simple.
     Ease your weary soul. 
     Let love lead and let love flow. It's simple.

     His sudden laughter was bitter and harsh, pain pouring from
him in waves.
     
     Cleansing out your tarnished heart.
     It's simple. 
     Learning from each other can be simple.
     Hey, hey, don't you know?
     Love is all that we should show.
     Don't we know?

     Her tears drying on her face, Dana lay awake and listened to
her partner's heart break.