CHAPTER ELEVEN:

The Tropicana
Las Vegas
May 6, 1985
Monday

"This is madness! Absolute pure madness!"

Mulder tucked Emily's hand close to his chest as he dragged her through the riotous crowd. He laughed when they battled to get through the scantily-clad masses - ducking as horns piped over their heads, jumping over couples who were making out on the streets, dodging sparkling multi- colored confetti out of their way. Finally, they were able to reach the entrance of The Tropicana.

The stirrings of a noisy crowd were already blanketing the whole place, and to secure their front- row seats, Mulder had to quickly drag his daughter once again. He was feeling like Moses all of a sudden: parting the huge crowd with one sweep of his tall and lanky body. Emily didn't dare let go of his hand, and to make sure she didn't lose him, she gripped his shoulder tight.

"This is crazy, Dad!" she repeated, her mouth closer to his ear and still shouting despite their proximity. Mulder nodded eagerly in response. He was like a kid let loose in a candy store: he wanted to feel, taste, and see everything. This was Las Vegas at its finest and he brought his own daughter to see it for herself.

"Think of it as a wedding gift!" he called back at her, running towards their seats until he found their spots. They were propped with white cardboard pieces that had several "Fox Mulder" names scribbled on them. He shoved them aside and sat down with Emily beside him.

Emily brushed away confetti from her brunette hair; she glanced behind her and shook her head at the galactic size of the crowd that was starting to form and thicken.

"Is it always this... insane, Daddy?"

Mulder shrugged, pretending that he literally had no idea. Actually, he had a pretty good idea of how insane Las Vegas could get. He saw it every night when he woke up for a midnight snack or after settling Scully to sleep. He honestly believed that this was the mellower side of the strip.

His Emily was all sugar, all right. She was all sugar and sweet that she hadn't seen this side of Sin City ever. He was quite honored, as her father, that he was the one who could let her experience the REAL night life.

"Oh God... thank you for letting me leave Jeff behind. He'll go bonkers when he sees this crowd," she whispered to herself, not really meaning Mulder to hear it.

"Langly's keeping him company back at The Four Queens. Slot machines are a lot of fun, we

should try it tonight!" Mulder patted his daughter's hand, before letting it go. Emily smiled, obviously unsure of the idea her father presented.

"I think I'd be too tired to hit the machines tonight, Dad."

Mulder rolled his eyes dramatically while shaking his head at the same time. If Emily's going get married soon, she should at least see some real action in her life. That was the least he could do for her before she got tied down to a military man.

"C'mon, Em, this is so much fun already! We got to hit the night full force!"

Emily breathed deeply, hugging herself with her arms as she slid deeper into her seat. More people started vacating the seats around them, except for two that were adjacent Mulder. They were specifically reserved for Byers and Frohike (of course the smart ass wouldn't miss Spunk's first Las Vegas performance for the world). He also wanted John and Monica to come and see this, but Monica was already too far due to get on a plane or to battle through the craziness of the strip.

"This is one side of you that I haven't seen before, Daddy," his daughter said, and he couldn't tell whether her tone was disapproving or disbelieving.

She had never seen him during his party days. This was how he acted when he was in the mood for a mind blowing and earth-shattering par-tay.

He placed an arm around her shoulders, pressing her briefly to him. "Your Daddy's pretty happy tonight, honey, and he wants his baby to have fun too. Is that bad?" He spoke to her as if she was once again that five-year-old kid with pigtails. Emily responded the same way, looking up at him with his own puppy dog eyes and her lips curling up to a shy smile. Mulder kissed the top of her head and rubbed his hand on her shoulder. He couldn't help but grimace at the thick sweater she was wearing – despite the Las Vegas weather, nonetheless.

Sometimes, Emily was too prudish for him. He must have gone wrong somewhere in raising her when it came to her choice of fashion. It was summer, for crying out loud, and she was wearing a sweater. In Las Vegas.

"YO! Mulder!"

Hearing the familiar gruff voice, Mulder and Emily twisted in their seats, immediately catching

Frohike and Byers running towards them. He could see that the Las Vegas spirit had invaded their bodies faster than a thunderbolt: Byers' usual suit-and-tie attire was now replaced with cut- off sleeves that had the picture of Yoda on the front - possibly from one of Langley's vast collections of printed shirts. Frohike still had the dirty old man hat, only replacing his usual dirty shirt with a Hawaiian muumuu. Now, he looked like a dirty- old- man who needed a good lesson in geography. Mulder shrugged; Frohike obviously wanted to look fab for Spunk.

He resisted chuckling as he stood up to acknowledge his friends. He shook their hands while Emily pressed kisses on each of their cheeks. They all sat down and Mulder placed an arm around his daughter once again.

Frohike leaned into his ear, since he was beside Mulder. "I heard that you saw the dress rehearsals... how did Spunk do?"

"Why should I spoil it for you, Frohike?" He quickly glanced at his watch. Only four minutes before the show started. "It's almost beginning. You should see for yourself."

The DOM comically growled at him. "You're an asshole. You know that, don't you?"

Mulder grinned. "Scully's told me a thousand times."

"And you're also a lucky fucking bastard to be living with a lady like her."

"Some have it ...and some don't."

Frohike grumpily went back to his chair, making Byers smirk. It was always an inside joke for them to see who could make Frohike upset the fastest. Why make a fool out of the man? Because when Frohike was bothered, he would go into childish tantrums that rendered all three of them in laughing/crying fits. It was especially better when Frohike's had a beer or two. It was hysterical when they've finished a whole barrel of beer with some whiskey.

The lights around them dimmed, making some ladies who were unfortunately still looking for

their seats yelp in surprise. Emily huddled closer to Mulder and he chuckled as she did that. She sure was acting childish tonight. One big Sin City and a scared little Emily. Go figure.

"It's starting!" Byers exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. Mulder straightened up and realized how excited his companions were.

And even if he had seen it already, Mulder was excited too. His heart was pounding against his rib cage and he was careful that Emily didn't hear it. He could hardly wait for Scully to appear on stage so that he could watch her dance to that magical beat.

Dear Lord, he sure wanted to see her in that costume again.

Mulder shook his head in disapproval.

Crazy. He was becoming crazy living with that gorgeous woman every damn day. Crazy. That was what he told himself before and he was going keep telling himself the same thing until he got these crazy thoughts out of his fucking head.

The lights disappeared completely, which elicited gasps and shrieks from the audience. As the darkness coated them, he was almost thrown off balance by Emily. She clutched onto him as if for her dear life, and he had no choice but to hold her back so that he wouldn't fall.

Mulder's heart pounded triple- time. He had to inhale deeply a couple of times to steady himself.

He was so crazy excited he was about to ripped. He was crazy excited he was about to rip. He was so crazy excited he was about to rip open...

Damn. There went his grammar.

"Stop drooling, Frohike. Scully's part is over."

"She w- was... ! I swear, Mr. Fox Mulder, I'm going to marry her someday!"

This did nothing but shake Mulder's shoulders in laughter. "Your age difference is larger than ours, Mr. Melvin Frohike. Lay off her."

"Love conquers all." The love-stricken expression on Frohike's face made Mulder laugh again. The DOM was crazier than him. Byers once warned him that if Frohike started quoting love quotes, it was the point of no return. He was head over heels with Spunk, so no wonder Scully was slightly bothered whenever Mulder mentioned Frohike to her. She was never too keen on men who had crushes on her.

"Fuck you, old man. She'll shit bricks before she accepts any of your proposals," Byers chimed in, smacking his friend's back. Mulder silently nodded in agreement, turning his attention to the stage once again.

Rainbow colored dancers with breathtaking costumes designed to fit the bill of the 1920's period invaded the stage, spectacularly hitching up their legs for everyone to see their sheer underwear. Emily hid her face into her father's chest when that happened, and Mulder tried to pull her out of his front. His daughter was even worse than him. If she had been born in the flower power hippie decades of the sixties - with Woodstock and all that bullshit - she would've been craning her head to see all the explicit parts of the Folies Bergere dance show.

He REALLY, really must've gone wrong somewhere along the way in raising this kid.

He remembered Scully and he abruptly stood up, disentangling from his daughter. Emily stared up at him, asking with her eyes where the hell he thought he was going.

Above the stage's noises and the crowd's absolution with the act, he shouted, "I'M GOING TO GO SEE HER! PICK HER UP AND THEN WE CAN GO AND HAVE SOME REAL FUN, OK?" He turned to Frohike and Byers, "TAKE CARE OF EMILY FOR ME, I'LL BE BACK IN A JIFFY."

Emily timidly acknowledged this and Byers filled in Mulder's seat to be closer to Mulder's

daughter. Byers had the best relationship with his family. The guy could've been Emily's surrogate father had Mulder traded in his parenthood for a happy- go- lucky life.

Tapping Emily on the shoulder to assure her that he would return, he bounded off towards the back of the Tropicana's stage.

Scully gave him a spare key to her dressing room before the show, telling him that if he needed to see her after her performance, he was more than welcome to enter. The key was courtesy of Mr. Jayson.

Sliding the cold key into the lock, he twisted the door open and knocked just to be sure.

"Scully?" he called out, his voice soft. The outside of the stage was frenzied, but the backstage itself was eerily quiet. Mulder guessed that Scully was the only dancer there at the backstage, since most of her colleagues were outside, giving the audience their fulfillment.

"I'm right here." With that invitation, Mulder opened the door.

Scully stood in front of a large, full-length mirror, studying her reflection intently. She still was fully made-up and was still wearing her bohemian costume. Absentmindedly, she ran her hands down the bodice of her silky skirt. Mulder closed the door behind him, not turning as the lock slid in shut and the noises outside disappeared.

He hovered close to her, chewing on his lower lip as he finally got to see Scully up close.

Even with the first- row seats that were given to them, it still was hard to see Scully from all the

blinking lights and the mesmerizing beat of her body. This time, he could see the tiny diamonds that were arranged intricately on her forehead, the sparkling red lipstick that enhanced the dip of her lower lip, the small patterns of crystal beads on her bare midriff, the two giant jewels that were attached to the corners of her eyes.

She was a goddess, a living goddess. Dare he say this: Aphrodite herself.

Mulder reminded himself to breathe as he approached her. He smiled awkwardly as he stood directly behind her petite body and placed a shaky hand on her shoulder.

Scully tore her eyes away from her reflection to look up at him. "That was some crowd back there. How did I do?"

He tried to quickly arrange his thoughts so that he would not lose his grammar. After a beat, he answered back, "You were wonderful. I'm proud of you, Scully."

She smiled up at him, satisfied, and returned to the mirror. She gazed at herself with awe and he thought that he must be doing the same, too.

"Here I am, Las Vegas, Folies Bergere and all... I'm wondering why it feels surreal."

"Let it sink in, Scully. When you hope so much for something … sometimes, it happens too fast that you don't grasp the fact that it's already happening." He hoped that made sense for her.

"I guess so." It probably did.

She ran her hands over the pattern of her whole costume all over again: starting from her teased and upturned hair that was graced with the same tiny diamonds that were all over her face, to her intricately made-up face, to her collar bone, down to the swell of her breasts and then at her hips.

Mulder swallowed, hoping that she didn't hear him. She was forgetting that there was a man inside the room and she shouldn't be doing that in front of any man who was living, breathing, and yes, red-blooded.

To change the subject and break the tension he was feeling (only HE was feeling, apparently), Mulder motioned towards a darkened part of the dressing room behind him. "Have you seen my surprise?" he whispered in her ear, watching her eyes become curious in the mirror. She shook her head, hiding a grin from spreading out on her lips.

He gripped her hand and asked her to close her eyes. She obediently did, finally releasing her grin.

Mulder pulled her towards the far end of the dressing room, groping for the lights. When he finally found the switch, he studied the present he bought a few hours before the show. He was quite sure that Scully was going to be ecstatic when she got to see this. Emily specifically added some sweet touches to the surprise, telling him that even if Scully was all Spunk, she would appreciate some tenderness from her "friend." His daughter actually made air quotation marks when she said that last word. He honestly was too excited about the present that he didn't even process what his daughter meant by that.

He jerked her hand, signaling her to open her eyes. She did, and the grin that played on her crimson lips suddenly turned to a gasp.

Sprawled before them was a life- size bouquet of humongous lilies, which seemed to shine despite the meager light of the dressing room. A glittery sign above all the flowers proclaimed "Congratulations!" underneath a 3- inched teddy bear that was hugging four white roses.

Scully bent over to gently pick the teddy bear up, hugging it close to her body and removing the roses from the bear's paws. She also found a card tucked under the bear's arm and opened it, reading the contents aloud:

"To my Scully. For being able to dance her dream, for making me feel like shit 24/7..." An arched eyebrow met that. Mulder raised his hands in innocence. She continued, "... And for making me feel that I deserve all of her 24/7. Mulder." She closed the card, tucking it back under the teddy bear's arm.

Leaning close to his present, she sniffed with that patrician nose of hers the scent of the lilies. He didn't know what she smelled from them, since his oversized nose didn't smell a damn thing.

But she looked so happy taking a whiff of the lilies' scent that he thought that there were some things he needed to learn from Scully.

"They are beautiful, Mulder. I never thought you'd be so...sweet." Her voice cracked as she tried to hide the overwhelming feelings she obviously had with the unexpected surprise. Unfortunately for her, Mulder understood what was going on, so he stepped forward and brought her to his arms. He didn't buy the present to make her cry; he bought it to make her happy - to make her feel that she deserved all of this.

His hug surprised Scully; she caught herself on his chest, staring up at him, her eyes a misty blue. He gingerly kissed her forehead, selfishly relishing in her unique scent. A thought dashed through his head: Scully's future husband would be pretty lucky to have someone as amazing as her.

The teddy bear was dropped back to its flowery cradle. "I'm okay, really," she argued, but did not get her point across. She knew as well as he knew that she wasn't: this was her dream, this was her life- long fulfillment, and yet, she felt doubtful.

She rested her forehead on Mulder's chest, listening to his heartbeat quietly.

"Thank you," Scully told him. When he heard that, he moved both of them towards the full- length mirror without breaking their embrace. Upon reaching the mirror, he turned Scully so that she was facing her own reflection - so she could see how beautiful she was, so that she could see how he saw her. He wanted her to accept that she deserved this chance more than anyone else.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his mouth close to her ear once more. She did as he asked, blushing at the sight of her reddened eyes. She once told him that she embarrassed herself too much in front of him because of her constant need for comfort. It was more a statement than a question, so Mulder didn't say anything back. Truth was, he didn't think she was showing too much of herself to him... he has always thought that Scully might cry in his arms, she might let herself need him, but she never did show her true colors. She never showed her true vulnerability. She never showed the true Dana.

"Why do I have to look at myself?"

"I want you to see how beautiful you are. You deserve this more than anyone else, okay? You don't have to ever listen to them again," he encouraged her, putting both of his arms on her hips and resting his head on her shoulder. A few glitters sprinkled on the junction of his thumb and index finger, his skin glistening in gold, like hers did.

Scully studied her reflection for a second, from the top of her head to the tip of toes, then at his own. He moved his head down to her cheek, rested his lips there for a dawning moment, and then moved away.

She grinned genuinely now, pressing her face to his cheek. He had the strangest notion that she was breathing his scent in, before she said, "What are we waiting for? Let's hit the streets. It's our last night in Vegas."

They had to retrieve their other three companions from The Tropicana before the evening 10 PM show started. That was when the dancers go onstage topless. Mulder didn't want Emily to see that after noticing her reaction with the most conservative parts of the show. Langley did suggest that the guys go out and see it, while Emily and Spunk kept each other company. Mulder didn't give a yes or no; just that he would think about it.

The night was young - still a few hours before the crack of dawn - and Mulder wanted to make the most out of it. He hadn't partied much for some time now, since he had been busy with work and Emily's wedding. He missed the adrenaline of partying - the excitement of it all.

They had a table for eight at The Voodoo Lounge by the time that topless show was starting, and everyone was high on wine. Emily was dirty dancing with Jeffrey in the middle of the floor (Mulder decided that he didn't want to look at that one), and the three stooges left him and Scully suddenly, telling him that they wanted to see the topless show after all. Frohike promised to come back later on to have a small chat with Scully, after she had finished three bottles of wine. Scully called back that it would take ten bottles of wine before she would even consider entertaining him.

By that time, wine definitely got rid of their inhibitions.

He had officially finished a whole bottle of chilled French wine with Scully, and they were feeling high and cheery as an after-effect. Scully still had her full make- up on, even if the blue gown had long been shucked off, replaced with a tummy baring asymmetrical knitted shirt and low- cut Levis. The combination of her bohemian make- up and casual wear was a cross between classy and sporty. And as usual, she was beautiful. Even with the wine present in his bloodstream, he could not refute that fact.

The techno- pseudo-new wave beats were drowned out by the crowd's chatters and was soon replaced by George Michael's Careless Whisper. It was one new wave song that he actually liked.

Scully was bothered by the dirty napkins on the table and with her lack of dexterity, she was actually making the mess worse. Mulder reached over to retrieve her hand from the sloppy stack of used napkins she had been piling on top of each other, and with his best puppy dog eyes (and face, he couldn't forget that), he asked her to dance. Scully's dilated pupils lightened up and they dragged each other towards the dance floor. Couples who had the liberty of petting each other heavily were now filling the space up. Making sure that they weren't around Jeffrey and Emily, Mulder opted for a neither heavily- lighted or heavily- darkened spot.

He swung Scully towards his chest, nestling his hands on her lower back. She at once placed her head over his chest - over his beating heart once again - while one hand rested on his chest. The soft porcelain skin of her fingertips was too tempting to resist, and Mulder gave in to this, linking his fingers with hers and dropping it at their sides. Scully sighed into his t- shirt.

I feel so unsure
As I take your hand
And lead you to the dance floor

"This is nice," he murmured hoarsely, his head swaying from side to side with the music.

Scully's eyes closed; he could see her lips still glistening with wine. "Yes... this is rather nice," she returned, pointing her chin at his chest and looking up at him.

She noticed that she had a penchant for looking at him whenever she needed assurance; she would always search his eyes as if they held the truth of all truths.

Oh yes, her future husband will be very, very lucky.

As the music dies
Something in your eyes
Calls to mind a silver screen
And all its sad goodbyes

His mind was a playground of hazy surroundings: of Scully and her scent, of the wine and its incriminating effects. All that was happening bedazzled him and maybe he was a tad bit drunk, but holding Scully right there and right now felt so right for Mulder. The way her skin slid against his felt like heaven. The way her breasts pushed up against his chest was slowly driving him to the edge, and the feel of her lower back was like fine satin, even finer than the best patented milk in the whole fucking world.

Shit... he was not going to say the F word when he was drunk, when he had not washed his hair, when he was holding...

I'm never gonna dance again
Guilty feet have got no rhythm
Though it's easy to pretend

The list was lost to him. Mulder shut the world around him tightly in a zip- lock bag, stapling it a hundred times over and over again. He forgot about his nosy mind, so he made a whole new zip- lock bag to store it inside of.

He needed this. He needed her. Wine be damned. Everyone be damned.

Mulder lowered his head, catching Scully's eyes with his own.

And he kissed her.

I know you're not a fool
I should have known better than to cheat a friend
And waste a chance that I've been given

Kiss was an overstatement. The meeting of their lips was more of a simple movement against each other's - a chance to feel each other's plump mouth against, and a chance to taste what could be beyond.

He bathed in the ecstasy of her warmth for a few glorious seconds, before Scully pulled away from him. It wasn't as if he was kissing her with full passion, but her retreating surprised him nonetheless.

So I'm never gonna dance again
The way I danced with you.

"WH- what... what..." Scully stepped away from him, as if he has morphed into the El Chupacabra, the Mexican goatsucker. Mulder also backed away, unintentionally running his tongue over what remained of her on his lips.

He was going to say it now: FUCK. F-U-C-K.

Fox William Mulder made a big, big, big mistake.

She still looked so shocked and Mulder defensively tried to get a hold of her. However, she moved away from him even more, almost hitting a French- kissing couple behind her. Muttering a small "sorry," she headed towards the table, with him hot at her heels.

"Scully!" he shouted, making the romantics hiss at his interruption. He paid them no attention as he dove forward, catching Spunk by her wrist. She was ready to leave. To leave him. To leave without even trying to amend what happened.

She struggled from his grip, her teeth gritting.

"LET ME GO!"

"I WON'T DARE!"

"LET. ME. GO!" she shouted back, tears pooling around her eyes.

"No, I can't do that!" With one pull, he was able to bring her back, crashing into his chest. He held her there with a death grip, tilting her face so that she could look at him like she always did: eye-to-eye.

"Scully, listen... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do what I did-"

Those tears sprang free, making her mascara run down her cheek. He wanted so badly to wipe them away, but he had to hold her in that place so she'd listen... and if he touched her even more, she might actually faint from the confusion.

"- And maybe it's the wine... but I didn't mean it. Scully, please, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it..."

Right grammar was eluding him again. Mulder struggled, his tongue knotting itself. "Please forgive me, I can't... I can't... I didn't mean it... I just didn't..."

Scully closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them, making more dark tears run down her glossy cheeks. "Mulder …"

"It was on impulse... it's the wine... I'm drunk, YOU'RE drunk yourself, please understand the fu- damn situation... Scully..."

"Mulder …"

He stepped on the brakes, hearing her voice all of a sudden. The sound didn't register in his short circuiting mind.

"I... need some time alone, okay?"

Oh no. She was going give him the speech: THE speech to end all speeches. She couldn't do this to him - not to him, of all the people. They were tied to each other with a cast iron ribbon, thrown together in a marriage that evaded all the laws of marriage itself. She couldn't do this to him. Mulder shook his head furiously. Scully was his. She couldn't do this to him!

"I need some time alone," she said, breaking free of his grip. Three steps were taken from him, before she continued speaking, "It's...really no big deal, you know? It's all okay, I understand... I just need some time alone. Nothing's going change, blimey."

Nothing was going to change. His inner voice mocked that statement. Yeah, right.

Scully turned her back to him and headed to the exit, wiping her tears on her sleeves as she did. Leaving him alone. Standing alone and feeling like a complete, inconsiderate, testosterone- driven, crazy, drunk asshole, fucking jerk.

Now that you're gone
Was what I did so wrong?
So wrong that you had to leave me alone.

The song had wrong timing.

Mulder snatched a wine glass from their table and threw it towards one of the large speakers of the Lounge. Ladies screamed in surprise as pieces of the glass flew all over and he stared at the commotion he created, not even flinching as he caught Emily and Jeff running towards him from the corner of his eye.

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

A/N: For this scene, think Millennium's kiss if the world did end!