A/N: Thanks for the reviews. This one is my baby. This is my love of a story. I do hope that you enjoy it! :)
He entered her dressing room and crept up behind her. He quickly placed his hands over her eyes.
"Guess who," he whispered into her ear.
"Édouard!" the red-haired beauty exclaimed with joy. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Oh, I've missed you so much! You've been away," she pouted perfectly.
"You know that I hate to be away from you," he told her, pulling out of her embrace, taking her hand, and placing a soft kiss upon it. "Léonie, you danced like and angel!"
"You're only saying that because you are infatuated with me," she told him, matter-of-factly.
"No, I'm saying that because it's true!" he corrected. "I give you these," he handed her a piece of folded thick paper, "because I am infatuated with you." He used his best smile on her.
"Is it a poem?" she asked, barely able to contain her excitement.
He shrugged, "Perhaps."
"Why ever did you not become a writer?" she asked him, leaning against her dressing table.
"Ah. Because writers don't make much money, ma cherie. However, detectives, especially if you're a good one, which I am, do!" he told her, lightly tapping her nose once with his fingertip.
"Tell me one of your stories," she begged, pulling him over to sit with her on the chaise longue.
"I am sorry. I have no stories suitable for those delicate ears of yours!" he told her seriously.
"Please, Édouard!" she begged once more. "You know that I live vicariously through you!"
"If my stories are you living vicariously, then I really must get you out of here! Maybe I can ask if Monsieur and Madame Vichy can serve as a chaperone?"
"Chaperone?! I'm nearly one and twenty! I don't need a chaperone!" she said, indignantly. "I'm practically an old maid by now!" she pouted.
He smiled. "You? An old maid? Never! And what does that make me? I am nearly three years your senior," he reminded her.
"Men are like a fine wine, they get better with age," she told him, smiling and swinging her legs back and forth impatiently.
He chuckled at her childlike stubbornness.
"Please tell me a story. You said that you have been busy. There must be some great case keeping you away from me!" she pouted prettily again.
He sighed. "Léonie..." he began to refuse again, but one look into her clear blue eyes made him not have the strength to tell her no again. "Okay," he gave in.
She smiled brightly, and tucked her legs underneath her skirts to get ready for his story.
"I've been working on a strange murder case," he began reluctantly. "We are trying to catch a man who preys on innocent young girls, like you." He was still trying to scare her into asking him to stop. However, she did not ask, so he proceeded. "There have been three girls taken so far. They were all found in the surrounding areas of Paris. Dressed in virginal white dresses and seemingly sacrificed-"
"Sacrificed? To whom?" she asked. He could tell that she had lost some of the color that her face once had.
"It seems to be some sort of satanic ritual or witchcraft."
"Satanic? Witchcraft?" her voice was quiet and dull.
"See? I didn't want to frighten you," he said, standing up.
"No. You haven't," she told him, grabbing onto his wrist. "That's something I should know, right? In case I need to protect myself."
"Protect yourself?" he questioned.
"If this monster is targeting girls like me, I should know about it to protect myself, right?"
He smiled down at her. "First of all, you never leave this building. I think that you are perfectly safe here! Secondly, I'm all the protection you need! I would never let anything bad happen to you," he said, pulling her to her feet to wrap her in a warm embrace.
"You'll always protect me, won't you?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Always," he confirmed, kissing her forehead. "Even from yourself."
Mulder woke with his arm still draped over Scully's sleeping form. He didn't know what should creep him out more, the fact that his dream seemed to continue on from the night, or that Scully now had a leading role as a ballet dancer named Léonie. Either way, he was disturbed. Apparently, this case was having a bigger affect on him than he thought.
He slowly and quietly peeled himself away from Scully's warm body. Doing so, however, woke her up.
"Mmm. What time is it?" she asked, sleepily.
"7:03," he answered. Then he added, "Do you want to take a shower first, or do you want me to?"
"You go ahead," she shooed him away.
"Are you sure? I mean, it will take you more time because you have to do your hair. Mine is always perfect!"
She snorted a laugh at him. "Yeah, right! You look like you have a bowl-cut right now. Please. Shower. You're sweatier anyway," she said, wiping Mulder sweat off of her arm.
"Point taken. I'm going," he got up and left the room.
"And be quick!" she called after him.
Scully ran her hands through her hair. She was really nervous about today, and she was relieved that she got him out of her room. She didn't want him to see how nervous she was. He could read her like a book! She also wanted to have time to just lay in bed for a while. She had a really weird dream, and it left her unnerved.