Disclaimer: I do not own "The X-Files", "The X-Files" is property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and 20th Century Fox. Neither do I own Phantom of the Opera, based on the novel by Gaston Leroux, popularized in musical form by Andrew Lloyd Weber, et al. I'm making no money from this.

A/N: This takes place in the timeline I set down in "For Real?"

Scully recalls her first assignment in the X-Files, the events of the pilot episode. "Music of the Night" songfic, I thought it was especially fitting for them

Agent Mulder sprints around the corner and enters his office door—to find Scully there already, she's beaten him again! But…she certainly isn't working, that's odd. She's sitting at his desk with her eyes closed, smiling dreamily to herself. As Mulder draws nearer, he sees she's wearing headphones. He looks around on the desk and sees a CD case off to the side, "Phantom of the Opera", original London cast! He'd never considered Scully to be the type that would be a fan of Broadway, after all these years together there's still a lot that he doesn't know about his partner and friend. They didn't have any assignment yet today, so Mulder sees no harm in letting Scully dream. The CD player whirs, Mulder can hear the ornate rock-organ blaring through her earpieces. He looks at the track list to see what's next: "Music of the Night". He hovers over her curiously, wondering what she's thinking about…

We'd just returned from having a very strange week, and that's by our standards. We both strongly considered pretending that the latter of it had never happened, just to save the paperwork of filing a report, and out of sympathy for a houseful of aliens who just wanted to be left alone. When we got back to work yesterday, it didn't take long for people to notice the ring on my finger, and for their old teasing habit of calling me Mrs. Spooky to come back in full force. When I first started work in the X-Files division, partnered with Fox "Spooky" Mulder, the rest of the Bureau generously extended the nickname towards me as well. True, it was hard to be taken seriously when most people don't believe in half of what gets thrown our way, but I don't regret it for a second. If someone had told me then what I would become, that I would go from being the loudest skeptic to being able to believe in the existence of extraterrestrials and the like, I would never have believed it. If I knew then what I know now, would I have agreed to the assignment at all?

The music softly swells to a gentle ballad, sweeping Scully back to her first assignment in the paranormal.

HOOVER BUILDING, FBI HEADQUARTERS

1992

Special Agent Dana Scully descends the elevator to the ambient darkness of the lowest point in the building.

Despite regular custodial maintenance, the basement still smells…well, like a basement. Musty, damp, an air of neglect around an otherwise immaculately kept building. This is where I'm meeting my new partner? Trust that Spooky Mulder would get shunted to the dungeons. This is going to be the shortest assignment on record. All I have to do is prove to the boys upstairs that he's off his rocker, and that'll be it. I'm curious what this will involve. Is he really crazy like they say he is? The way everyone talks about him, it's easy to imagine him a dark, brooding, nigh on grotesque figure. What am I doing here?

Night-time sharpens,
heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses ...

Fox "Spooky" Mulder sits hunched over his desk, obviously engrossed in whatever it is he's doing. After rather accusing introductions are exchanged, he asks me directly if I believe in extraterrestrials, which I pass off as absurd on too many scientific fields to count. It's hard to tell whether he's disappointed by this or encouraged. He seems eager to show me his world, like he's been aching for company all this time and is happy that someone has joined him in his solitary cell. Willing to welcome anyone, even an unbelieving scientist like me. He certainly doesn't seem crazy; unusual, perhaps, enthusiastic, but not dangerous. He definitely takes himself seriously, underneath his devil-may-care façade. I can see it in his eyes, he's so animated. And he wants me on his side, to see what he sees. For a moment, I wish I could, too.

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender
Turn your face away
from the garish light of day,
turn your thoughts away
from cold, unfeeling light -
and listen to the music of the night ...

We return to our motel from our day's investigation, and I ask Mulder to examine me. As much as I don't believe in aliens, I suddenly feel an icy jet of cold dread. What if I had been taken? If Mulder finds the telltale marks we'd found on all the other victims? When he declares me clear I throw myself at him in relief, and he holds me as though it's the most natural thing in the world, with no sign of embarrassment. I'm touched that he desperately wants me to trust him, to be his friend, to validate his life's work. I know I won't always believe everything he's going to go hunting for, but after just knowing him for this short time it feels…right. I was sent in to shut him down, and here in our first assignment I know I can't do it, I can't betray this man. People at work think he's a lunatic, obsessed, but I'm seeing another side to that. His pure, honest excitement, despite total lack of evidence, he's remained dead-set on his course.

Close your eyes and surrender to your
darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts of the life
you knew before!
Close your eyes,
let your spirit start to soar!
And you'll live
as you've never lived before...

Tonight in the graveyard I find myself wondering if insanity can be contagious, because here I am, standing with Mulder in the pouring rain next to two empty graves, laughing my head off over an epiphany that I would never have believed 24 hours previously. Neither the rain nor the fire that's destroying all of our evidence could dampen our spirits. Mulder grins at me, fixing me with this knowing look, like we're a team now. He doesn't see me as some snooty scientist hell-bent on proving him wrong, or a government plant sent in to shut him down; we stare at each other through the rain and the flames, and see a friend.

Softly, deftly,
music shall surround you ...
Feel it, hear it,
closing in around you ...
Open up your mind,
let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness which
you know you cannot fight -
the darkness of the music of the night ...

We get back to D.C. and I sit before my superiors to present my evidence "or lack thereof". Much to everyone's surprise, I find myself outspokenly defending our case. Mulder calls me that night at 11:22pm, just to tell me he can't sleep; it would be the first of many such late-night calls, though I little suspected it at the time. I should've known then, intuitively, because I didn't mind in the slightest. I was wide-awake, too. Two days together and we'd already begun to form our near symbiotic-telepathic bond. A bond I will always treasure, that I can't imagine living without.

Let your mind start a journey
through a strange new world!
Leave all thoughts
of the world you knew before!
Let your soul take you where you
long to be!

Only then can you belong to me...

After the Eugene Tooms case I begin to notice a change. Voices drop when I enter the room; people stare at me openly, more than once I hear the name Mrs. Spooky directed at me. Originally sent down to the dungeons to debunk Agent Mulder's hare-brained ideas, we've already begun acting like a team, like…partners. From somewhere I can't describe a sensation of trust wells up in me. Surprisingly enough, I mind my fellow agents' attitudes very little. I've somehow crossed over; he's earned my trust and my respect. Even…loyalty? If the price of his friendship is being seen "like him", so be it.

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me savour each sensation!
Let the dream begin,
let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that I write -
the power of the music of the night ...

Now here I am, Mrs. Spooky all over again. Kind of a cute nickname, really. Now I feel like I've actually earned the title. We've had our obstacles, but we've always come back to each other. For all the times we've fought, run off, gotten abducted, or just taken the odd shot at each other, nothing can keep us apart forever. I think we've both always known, from the minute I stepped off that elevator, from then on out we belonged to each other.

You alone can make my song take flight -
help me make the music of the night

The song ends, and Scully opens her eyes, blinking up at her fiancé, partner, friend...She takes the headphones off and hits "stop". Wordlessly, she gets out of his seat and takes her usual one, slipping on her glasses to go back to the daunting task of organizing the place. Despite her best efforts, it seems their office is a perpetual shambles. After a few minutes, and coy glances exchanged between them, Mulder crosses over to her, tugs a folder out of her grip and tilts her chin up.

"What were you just thinking of?"

Scully gives him a stern look, as though she's annoyed at the interruption and considering not telling him, then spoils it by smiling up at him as though nothing could please her more than to be with him right now, just as they are. Taking off her glasses, she replies, "You, ah, remember our first case?"

Mulder nods, "Yeah, I do."

"That was a fun one."

This sudden admission takes Mulder by surprise. It had been so long ago that he was frankly amazed that she bothered to think about it. He smiles at the memory of the two of them, soaked and victorious in the cemetery, in every sense the start of a beautiful friendship.

"Yeah, but what did you have to compare it to?"

"At the time? Nothing. But since then, I've had my share, and compared to some that I can think of, Rob, that one was kind of fun."

"Oh, so now we're the Petries again?" He gives her a playful swat with the folder in his hand. "You'd probably like that better than—hey, are they really calling you Mrs. Spooky again?"

Scully giggles, warding him off, "Yeah, pretty much."

"Just tell 'em to grow up, and knock it off."

She shakes her head, dragging him down by the tie, "I like it." He uncomplainingly yields to her and they share a soft, slow kiss. Kneeling down next to her perch, Mulder sidles in and pulls her into his lap on the floor. With a startled shriek, she tumbles down on top of him, both of them feeling unnaturally frisky for a day at the office.

"Mr. and Mrs. Spooky," she giggles at him softly, wiggling her fingers at him in a mockery of the implications.

"Scully…it's a stupid nickname; it's not even that creative."

"I like it…because it's you. It's us."

"You're crazy. Fine, we can put that on our mailbox when we're married. 'The Spookys'." Seamlessly, Mulder switches back into work mode. "So are we filing a report on those aliens we stayed with?"

"In Denton? I don't think we should. They were all right. Little paranoid, but I guess that sometimes when it comes to FBI agents and aliens, it's kind of the same thing with people and spiders. They're more afraid of us than we are of them."

Mulder kisses her neck, pressing her body against his. "You are so cute when you talk about extraterrestrials in cliché metaphors. My work here is done."

"So this was some kind of project of yours?"

"It wasn't easy, you can be very stubborn. Definitely worth the time and effort, though."

Fin