From: Vicki Pasek Date: Thursday, May 31, 2001 9:50 PM The Dancin' Series By Mistress V THE LAST WALTZ by Mistress V Ok folks, I admit it, I have been too busy to write lately, but the Memorial Day X Files A to Z on FX inspired me to start up again. In my alternate universe, M and S are lovers now. If this make you wince, please hit the back button and exit the ride to your left. Thank you. This is not really NC-17 yet, but I am posting it to Whispers anyway, because the sequels will definitely be a little more x rated. There is actually some angst in this. Not the relationship kind. Just ordinary angst about life and its unfairness, and how M and S relate to these everyday emotions. Legalese boilerplate: Oh come ON, Chris! Unless you pull a 90210 or a Dallas on us, it is now abundantly clear M and S like each other...I do not own your characters, nor do I intend to infringe any intellectual property rights. Just having some fun with them. They will be returned safely, fear not. I mention several 80's things in here--they all actually were part of that wild generation . And I dedicate this story to Thom Mathews. Your star never shone as bright as it should have. I miss you, my friend, and hope you are dancing in heaven. "Here?" "Higher." "Here?" "No! Higher!" "HERE?" Fox Mulder manager to gasp. Dana Scully nodded vigorously as his grasp closed over the prize. "That's it!" She helped steer her partner, and the box he carried, over to her sofa, where they both collapsed in a heap. "Geez. Scully!" Mulder let out his breath in an undignified snort. "What's IN that? Bricks?" Scully ignored his playful jibe and busied herself sifting through the box's contents. Mulder leaned over, intrigued. Whatever was in there certainly was getting her undivided attention. He delicately gave a tentative nibble to her earlobe. No response. His lips moved to her neck, exposed by the ponytail she wore, and ran his tongue down a tendon he saw. Still no response. She shivered, but ignored his advances. Damn! Mulder sighed in acquiescence and followed her gaze. It was an 80's timewarp, he realized. Duran Duran's Rio smiled seductively up at him. Several fluorescent headbands. Some stripey legwarmers and a copy of Jane Fonda's Workout Book. Frankie Goes To Hollywood's debut single Relax. Outrageously hoopy earrings. A pair of worn hot pink jazz shoes. Video cassettes, music tapes. "Ah." Scully's hand closed over the Trivial Pursuit Music Master Edition , Rock and Pop Version. "This should do the trick." It was a rainy Friday evening, and she and Mulder had decided to stay in after returning from a long three days on a wild goose chase. They'd been watching VH1's Behnid the Music: The 80's and had started debating Sigue Sigue Sputnik, of all things. Scully had remembered the game, and had challenged Mulder to a match. He had accepted eagerly. Both partners were setting high stakes of the most erotic kind. Personally, Scully's terms included champagne, the kitchen countertop and her partner's mouth. For openers. "What's all this?" Mulder's voice cut into her erotic daydream. "My 80's alter ego," she replied with a smirk, holding up an old photo. "Check it out!" Mulder stared. It was a younger Scully, mini skirted, in white heels, oversize jacket. Her hair was moussed and teased, and her lips pouted with frosty pink lipgloss. "Scully-eeee?" he croaked as something woke up from its peaceful slumber. Jee-SUS, he thought. Was that skirt short enough? "Yep, that's me." She smirked at him. "On my way to Dire Straits show. Must have been, oh, 1985? 86?" Mulder shook his head, amazed. "You'd have fit right into the London club scene," he began, then thought better of it. At that same instant, he became aware that his partner had gasped. She stiffened against him. He cursed his stupidity. Could she possibly have been thinking about Phoebe? "Scully?" he asked as he slid his arm around her shoulders. The audible, painful sound of a swallowed sob filled his ears. She sat there, holding a videotape in one hand and a photo in the other. A single tear was coursing down her perfect cheekbone. Her eyes were closed. "Dana?" He turned her to face him. "What is it?" Her breath hiccuped past another sob. "It's ---" she began tentatively, then stopped and burrowed into his side. Mulder tightened his grip on her protectively and looked over at the second photo. It showed a vibrant Scully, hoisted into the arms of a handsome young GQ type. Both were dressed in the quintessential 80's jazz dance gear. They were caught in the midst of a complicated dance sequence, eyes locked on each other. The entire image was one of a fluid grace, tandem synchronicity. Partnership. Lovers? Suddenly Mulder felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Who was this? Scully stirred and reached for a tissue, then blew her nose. "Man," she sighed. "Time warp. Sorry." Her eyes looked up at him in a watery attempt at levity. Mulder kissed her forehead. "That's Tom," Scully continued unbidden. "My best friend at university. He and I lived on the same floor in the dorms, we met the day we moved in." She smiled. "He was a theatre arts major. Wanted to be a director. We danced together for fun, as part of that keep fit craze back then, and really loved it. We moved so well together..." her voice trailed off and Mulder could hear it thicken again. "He never made it to Broadway," Scully finished softly after a moment. "He died. One of the first." Realization hit Mulder like a lightning bolt. "AIDS," he said. Scully nodded. "He never discussed his sexuality. In fact, he was a devout born again Christian. But he had issues...we just never found out about them...until it was too late. This tape is of a number we did for some benefit back then, one of the Yugoslav republics or something. It's called 'The Last Dance.' I'd forgotten I even had it, haven't played it since his memorial service." She grabbed Mulder's hand. "Watch it with me?" she asked simply. They settled back onto the sofa, having shared some wine and more than a few kisses of comfort. Mulder hit the remote and folded his arms around his partner. The video began in darkness. Music swelled up. Very familiar. Ahh. Mulder recognized Crockett's Theme from Miami Vice. The lights came up slowly on a bare set. A woman sat, cross legged, on the floor, head down, arms wrapped around her knee. A man stood behind just behind, his back to her, one hand on the top of her head. They began to move. The woman was Scully. She stretched her arms up and over her head, then out to her sides. Mulder watched, entranced. Her face was made up in heavy shadows. Almost like---a human skull. Her catsuit was a dusty, dirty, torn grey. Tom, her partner, spun on his toe and bent down, lifting her up under her arms and turning her to face him in a dramatic tableaux. He wore combat trousers, a slashed tank top and a military headband---right out of Platoon. They moved as one across the stage in an impossibly sad journey. Mulder was transfixed, never forgetting the fact that the same woman in the video was now in his arms. His hand stroked her face, knowing that the tears were there. The music finally faded away as smoky darkness enveloped the screen once more. "Wow," Mulder said reverently after awhile. "I was the death of the people," Scully told him, sighing. "And Tom was the idiocy of war." She paused, lost in thought. "We brought the house down. Now it's prophetic. He was dancing with death back then, only none of us knew it." Mulder held her close. Somehow, watching the tape had been healing to both of them. "Love me," Scully said to him. "I already do," he replied, not sure he'd heard correctly, as he kissed the top of her head. Scully turned in his arms and straddled his lap. ""Love me," she repeated, eyes filled with emotion. "Everyone I've really loved has left me---and---and----" Her voice broke again. Mulder tightened his embrace and looked at her, eye to eye, breath to breath. "I'm not going anywhere, Dana," he said softly. He traced her lips with his fingertips. "And I love you---so much." He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom and loved her pain away. to be continued....! honest! and soon! Hi folks. Here is my sequel to "Last Dance." It could stand alone. Anyway, in my alternate universe, M and S have been lovers, but there is no angst, babies or aliens. Just real life and smut. I was a dancer (for fun) and cannot resist adding the element into my stories. So, enjoy! The overture to "Candide" by Leonard Bernstein is a masterpiece. And if you know "The Nutcracker Suite" then you can imagine exactly what is going on in Mulder's head..."The Closing of the Year" was the theme of the early 90's "Toys" with Robin Williams. Disclaimers: Yeah, Chris, I know. You own them. So please let us see real life and love next season. Until then, this will have to do. DANCE WITH ME by Mistress V The insistent pattering of raindrops woke Fox Mulder early. From his internal clock, he knew it wasn't 6 am yet, but his body knew the routine, even on a Saturday. He glanced down at the warm bundle of Dana Scully in his arms and willed himself back to sleep. It had been quite a night. He and Scully had watched an old video of her college days, where she was dancing for a UN refugee benefit. It turned out that her partner, Tom, had died of AIDS not long after, and Scully, his best friend in college, still blamed herself. They had loved, and then stayed up talking until late. Scully admitted that she felt if Tom had only opened up to her about his sexual qualms, maybe he would have escaped the painful death he suffered. Her fears of abandonment had surfaced. Mulder had done his best to convince her that he was most definitely not going anywhere, and after many hours--and many couplings---she had finally ralized their love was real. The dancing had intrigued him. On video, he had seen a part of Scully he had before known existed. She told him she had studied ballet for years, despite the fact that her father's career had taken her many places in her youth. There had been real talent there, but the desire to be a doctor had finally won out, and her ballet shoes had been abandoned. It was her stirring, hours later, that woke him once again. Their union was intense and brief, never losing the element of love that was so new to them. Now they sat, sated, eating breakfast as the rain continued to drum on the windows. "So," he said. "What else did you dance to? Besides Miami Vice?" Scully gave him a private smile. "Lots of things. Mostly jazzy pop, ABC, Haircut 100, St. Elmo's Fire, you know, the stuff of the 80's. It was in to wear jazz oxfords and parachute pants. We did whatever the class instructor told us to do!" Mulder kissed her shoulder as she passed him more coffee. "And?" She blushed. "I did a solo to the overture from 'Candide'..." she began. "Lenny's Candide?" Mulder asked, amazing her with his never-ending range of knowledge. Not many people knew the composer. Leonard Bernstein. Scully nodded. "The same. He was a genius. How I wanted to try WestSide Story, but that's best as a group. No, I did a silly piece to the overture..." Mulder interrupted. "It's not silly, Dana, it is one of the most difficult pieces imaginable to play." "Or to dance," Scully admitted. "The tempo changes, the mood shifts, constantly. That's why it was so much fun!" "Do you have the tape?" Mulder asked, intrigued. "Somewhere," Scully sighed. *** The next day, Mulder recieved a call from Skinner informing him that he was to proceed, immediately, to Bemidji, Minnesota, to testify in a court trial concerning a case he had been involved in as a profiler, years before the X Files. Turned out the victim had only recently wakened from a coma and had decied to sue the arse off everyone in sight. Scully had driven him to the airport and they had kissed goodbye as though it was the end of the world, not just a week's absence. "What will you do without me?" he asked plaintively. Scully gave him a mysterious smile. "I'll think of something," she assured him. *** Scully was as good as her word. When she spoke to Mulder each day (several times, and especially before she went to bed), he inquired how she was keeping herself amused. "I started taking some classes in, er, bodywork,at the Y," she admitted, mysteriously. "What's wrong with the Bureau gym?" Mulder asked, perplexed. He did not like the idea of a minimally-dressed Scully parading herself in front of others. At least at the Bureau gym, things were on the up and up. She hrmmmphed over the wires. "REALLY, Mulder. The FBI giving creative movement classes? I don't think so." They had laughed it off, comforted by the closeness they shared, even parted by distance. *** Mulder's plane touched down in another rainstorm. He saw his partner waiting at the gate and almost visibly radiated light at the sight of her. They kissed, oblivious to the mainstream of arriving passengers, as though they were the first two lovers in the world to be reunited after a separation. After they arrived at Mulder's apartment, Scully made sure he got comfortable. "I have a surprise for you," she said. She'd ordered dinner ahead, so they ate companionably on the sofa, touching each other constantly. Rediscovering. After they finished eating, Mulder acted like a child on Christmas morning. "What's the surprise?" he begged. Scully only smiled. She leaned into his embrace and hit the video remote button. A tape began, with a vertical split screen. Mulder instantly recognized Dana Scully. In both incarnations. Her 1980's self, and the present day one. Apart from the hair and clothes, she was a mirror image of herself, leaning casually against a ballet barre' in a dance studio. The music began abruptly. Of course. It had to be. The overture to Candide. They both watched as the two Scullys danced across the screen, in perfect tandem, to the complicated beat. Mulder was astonished to see that the present-day Scully was every bit as good, if not better than, her younger counterpart. He marvelled at the way she interpreted the numerous changes of tempo and mood, to perfection. All too soon, the tape finished. Mulder turned to look at the woman he loved, seeing her in an entirely new light. "I love you," was all he could say. "Then keep December 8th open," she replied. And that was that. *** A few weeks later.... Mulder wondered, for the hundreth time, what to expect. Apart from some nondescript explanations, Scully had not told him anything other than the Y was having a Winter Holiday pageant that Saturday afternoon, and she was participating, if he cared to attend. She had brushed off his questions about her obviously pained muscles, the odd calls she got from a young man named "Cliff" and her animated demeanor. He found his way into the crowded auditorium and was amazed to see... "Guys? SIR?" The gunmen looked at him in amusement. "My niece is dancing in a number with Agent Scully," Skinned offered with a handshake. "And we did the original Candide double dupe," Beyers added. "She swore us to secrecy." Mulder was stunned. Did everyone know what was up besides him? He glanced at the program and saw her name twice. "Spanish Chocolate" from the Nutcracker danced by Dana Scully and Cliff Martin. "The Closing of the Year"---finale---solo danced by Dana Scully and Cliff Martin. The lights dimmed and the pageant began. The first number was up early. Tchaikovsky's familiar Spanish music filled the auditorium, and a group of small girls, attired in flamenco-esque costumes, danced onto the stage. They twirled and swayed prettily. Mulder guessed that Skinner's niece was in this group, but was prevented from further speculation by the entrance of Dana Scully. An audible gasp went up from his row as his partner appeared, in a black and red lace tutu, squired by a handsome cafe au lait skinned swain. Cliff. They immediatly demanded the attention of the audience--and got it. Mulder held his breath as he watched Scully effotlessly go en pointe, pirouetting with ease, spotting across the hall, at HIM, he could have sworn. He gaped. The talent she had brushed off as minimal quickly reasserted itself a hundredfold. A thoroughbread amongst alot of ponies. The piece was over as quickly as it began, and he got a chance to breathe during the little ones' rendition of "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer..." Mulder watched the rest of the pageant in a daze, remembering her flaming hair (up with a tiara!), the effortless way she danced across the stage on her toes, the creaminess of her exposed shoulders.... The beginning of the finale roused him from his daydreams. The stage was dark, as the music began... "If I cannot bring you comfort, then at least I bring you hope..." Suddenly, lights were dancing across the set of a huge christmas tree. Children filled the stage, weaving in and around the tree in time to the music. Mulder craned his neck and searched. Nope, not yet. The children danced and ran about. Mulder noted the Baby New Year, Father Year, a young man holding a menorah, what looked likea hooded Druid, a Japanese kimonoed young girl, a sari'd teenager. Of course. The finale incoroprated all of the winter holidays of most cultures. There was even a surfer Santa, in honor of the southern climes. And in a heartbeat, he saw Scully and her cavalier. Both were dressed in matching opposite catsuits of black and white, split vertically. Suns and moons decorated the lycra. Scully's partner wore a crown of holly leaves, while Scully had a pattern of snowflakes painted across her face. The glittered in the light. The Solstice. The union of longest day to shortest night, the end of winter and the beginning of summer. "And we fly in the eye of time..." Mulder's heart threatened to stop as Scully's dance partner casually flung her around his body and brought her to standing with no effort. "At the closing of the year..." Mulder watched as Scully's partner propelled, no, THREW her into a series of impossibly fast pirouettes. Her arms were thrown over her shoulders, her head back in wild enjoyment. Cliff easily caught her and fishtailed her into the last pose. The program was over. *** After a successful cookies and punch reception, Scully had sidled up to Mulder and suggested they go back to her place. He complied without a second thought. As they entered her apartment, Mulder noted a chair set in the middle of the living room. "Sit down and get comfortable," she ordered, "and you'll get your present." Mulder complied, wondering what else could possibly be in store. After awhile, he heard her voice. "Close your eyes, lover boy," she said in a sultry tone. Done. He heard her moving about in the living room, smelled the scent of the candles she lit and their patchouli richness, heard her move behind him and hit the video remote. "Open," she commanded. Mulder did. The music caused his trousers to shrink in a heartbeat. "Arabian Coffee," from the Nutcrtacker. A piece of silk chiffon slid delicatly past his vision, caressing his neck. Dana Scully danced into his line of vison next, clad in numerous pieces of matching silk. Realization dawned. The Dance of the Seven Veils...Scullystyle. She continued to move to the music, shedding pieces of silk here and there, like every exotic dancer he was suddenly embarrassed at remembering, only better. The music swelled and pulsed, in time to his rapidly growing erection. He stared. She was on her knees, arms gyrating, as she knelt backwards into an impossibly erotic pose. Gulp. The last piece of chiffon fell away, and Dana Scully, stark naked, straddled his lap and delicately kissed his neck. He picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. No emotional pain this time. ?