~ THE LAST DANCE ~
Fox Mulder sighed as he entered his apartment. Walking into the living room and flopping down on the couch, his eyes drifted to the open window. To the richly colored autumn leaves drifting from the gnarled branches.
He sighed again. He remembered a time like that. Just one year before, in fact ... and how could he forget? Every night before he submerged into dreams -some frightening and horrible, others pleasant and calm-he would recall the horror just like it had happened a moment ago.
Mulder would relive the harsh crack of the gunshot. Dana Scully's frightened yelp. And the expression on his face identical to hers ... a mixture of fear, pain, and longing. For he longed to hold her in his arms, to have her whisper her love for him, for his heart to melt at the sweetness in her blue eyes.
But that couldn't happen now, he would tell himself, because she's dead and Krycek did it. He didn't know that for a fact, nobody knew the identity of his partner's killer. But Mulder knew it was Krycek, just like he knew the facts of the sudden death. He had pored over that file every day, stayed late after he had been dismissed from a case, just to see the morgue photos. Just to remember.
He bit his lip and broke his gaze away from the October scene outside his window. Getting up from the sofa, he shifted into the kitchen, and pulled a beer from the refrigerator. On second thought, he brought another can. Maybe tonight he would forget the incident.
Returning to his spot on the couch, he opened the beer and drained half the can in one swift gulp. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Mulder sank back into the pillows, raising the liquor towards the window.
"Here's to you, Dana Scully," he said loudly, blinking back the tears, wincing as the skin on his face tightened; a sure sign that he would cry soon. "Here's to your whole fucking murder!" He drank again, tossing the can aside the moment he finished.
Four cans of beer later, Mulder could barely keep his gaze focused on the rising moon. "Damn Krycek," he tried to mutter, but his tongue couldn't seem to form the words properly.
Resting his head on a particularly comfortable pillow, his eyes drifted shut, and he was about to fall off to sleep-or maybe he already had-when something gently touched his forehead.
The cloud of exhaustion immediately lifted as he looked up, quickly opening his eyes. His mouth fell open slightly in surprise. "S-Scully?"
"Mulder..." she whispered, standing up, tightening her silk robe around herself and securing the sash in place.
"Scully." Mulder repeated, getting off the couch, running his hand down the side of her face, gently positioning his hand beneath her chin and tilting it skyward. "Is it really you?"
She simply nodded, and leaned forward, slipping her arms around the man's neck, pressing her lips to his.
Mulder's hands instinctively went to untie the sash, to let her bathrobe drop to the floor, forgotten, but she pulled away, eyes shadowed.
"No," she whispered. "Dance with me."
He shook his head, as if to clear it, then quickly nodded in case she interpreted his actions and thought he didn't want to be with her.
She took his hands in hers, positioning one on her waist and continuing to hold the other.
Mulder could feel redness sweeping across his cheeks, so he lowered his head and gently kissed her again, shifting to the left. Together they moved, to an unheard music, graceful yet strong in their actions.
Somehow-even he wasn't sure about it-the drunken fog had vanished, leaving him focused on Scully and only Scully. "Can I..." he trailed off, eyes searching hers.
"Yes."
"B-But I didn't even ask-"
"You can call me Dana."
Mulder leaned forward and kissed her another time, abandoning the 'given' dancing position and folding his arms around her waist, for that was indeed what he had planned on asking.
"I love you, Fox."
His eyes smiled at her. How long had he waited to hear her say that? He wasn't even sure. "And I you, Dana."
Mulder was about to make a second attempt to abandon the robe, but Scully put a firm hand on his shoulder.
"No, Fox. I...I must go. You'll always remember this, won't you?"
He nodded solemnly, biting his lip. "Do you have to leave?"
Now it was her turn to nod. "Fox, when books are written by unicorns, and humans no longer inhabit this world ... when wolves forget how to sing to the moon, and when you forget how to love, then I'll stop loving you."
"Scully..."
"I'll be waiting."
Mulder closed his eyes, to preserve the memory of how her face looked, illuminated by the moonlight. And when he opened them again, she was gone, and the sun poured through the blinds. He looked away, toward the kitchen, to avoid the bright glare, and something caught his eye.
Getting up, he walked cautiously over to it and picked it up. "Fabric?" Turning it over in his hands, he realized what it was and buried his face in the silky material, letting the tears flow freely. "Dana's robe. She was here, she really was."
And then somewhere-it could have been a car with the radio on, waiting for the light to change, or maybe it was just in his head-but he doubted both of those-the line to a song rang out clear in his mind.
"...Save the last dance for me..."
~END~
Fox Mulder sighed as he entered his apartment. Walking into the living room and flopping down on the couch, his eyes drifted to the open window. To the richly colored autumn leaves drifting from the gnarled branches.
He sighed again. He remembered a time like that. Just one year before, in fact ... and how could he forget? Every night before he submerged into dreams -some frightening and horrible, others pleasant and calm-he would recall the horror just like it had happened a moment ago.
Mulder would relive the harsh crack of the gunshot. Dana Scully's frightened yelp. And the expression on his face identical to hers ... a mixture of fear, pain, and longing. For he longed to hold her in his arms, to have her whisper her love for him, for his heart to melt at the sweetness in her blue eyes.
But that couldn't happen now, he would tell himself, because she's dead and Krycek did it. He didn't know that for a fact, nobody knew the identity of his partner's killer. But Mulder knew it was Krycek, just like he knew the facts of the sudden death. He had pored over that file every day, stayed late after he had been dismissed from a case, just to see the morgue photos. Just to remember.
He bit his lip and broke his gaze away from the October scene outside his window. Getting up from the sofa, he shifted into the kitchen, and pulled a beer from the refrigerator. On second thought, he brought another can. Maybe tonight he would forget the incident.
Returning to his spot on the couch, he opened the beer and drained half the can in one swift gulp. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Mulder sank back into the pillows, raising the liquor towards the window.
"Here's to you, Dana Scully," he said loudly, blinking back the tears, wincing as the skin on his face tightened; a sure sign that he would cry soon. "Here's to your whole fucking murder!" He drank again, tossing the can aside the moment he finished.
Four cans of beer later, Mulder could barely keep his gaze focused on the rising moon. "Damn Krycek," he tried to mutter, but his tongue couldn't seem to form the words properly.
Resting his head on a particularly comfortable pillow, his eyes drifted shut, and he was about to fall off to sleep-or maybe he already had-when something gently touched his forehead.
The cloud of exhaustion immediately lifted as he looked up, quickly opening his eyes. His mouth fell open slightly in surprise. "S-Scully?"
"Mulder..." she whispered, standing up, tightening her silk robe around herself and securing the sash in place.
"Scully." Mulder repeated, getting off the couch, running his hand down the side of her face, gently positioning his hand beneath her chin and tilting it skyward. "Is it really you?"
She simply nodded, and leaned forward, slipping her arms around the man's neck, pressing her lips to his.
Mulder's hands instinctively went to untie the sash, to let her bathrobe drop to the floor, forgotten, but she pulled away, eyes shadowed.
"No," she whispered. "Dance with me."
He shook his head, as if to clear it, then quickly nodded in case she interpreted his actions and thought he didn't want to be with her.
She took his hands in hers, positioning one on her waist and continuing to hold the other.
Mulder could feel redness sweeping across his cheeks, so he lowered his head and gently kissed her again, shifting to the left. Together they moved, to an unheard music, graceful yet strong in their actions.
Somehow-even he wasn't sure about it-the drunken fog had vanished, leaving him focused on Scully and only Scully. "Can I..." he trailed off, eyes searching hers.
"Yes."
"B-But I didn't even ask-"
"You can call me Dana."
Mulder leaned forward and kissed her another time, abandoning the 'given' dancing position and folding his arms around her waist, for that was indeed what he had planned on asking.
"I love you, Fox."
His eyes smiled at her. How long had he waited to hear her say that? He wasn't even sure. "And I you, Dana."
Mulder was about to make a second attempt to abandon the robe, but Scully put a firm hand on his shoulder.
"No, Fox. I...I must go. You'll always remember this, won't you?"
He nodded solemnly, biting his lip. "Do you have to leave?"
Now it was her turn to nod. "Fox, when books are written by unicorns, and humans no longer inhabit this world ... when wolves forget how to sing to the moon, and when you forget how to love, then I'll stop loving you."
"Scully..."
"I'll be waiting."
Mulder closed his eyes, to preserve the memory of how her face looked, illuminated by the moonlight. And when he opened them again, she was gone, and the sun poured through the blinds. He looked away, toward the kitchen, to avoid the bright glare, and something caught his eye.
Getting up, he walked cautiously over to it and picked it up. "Fabric?" Turning it over in his hands, he realized what it was and buried his face in the silky material, letting the tears flow freely. "Dana's robe. She was here, she really was."
And then somewhere-it could have been a car with the radio on, waiting for the light to change, or maybe it was just in his head-but he doubted both of those-the line to a song rang out clear in his mind.
"...Save the last dance for me..."
~END~
