Title: The Dance
Author: Toniann
E-Mail: ts19@cornell.edu
Rating: PG
Category: MSR
Spoilers/Timeline: set in season 8, post-Empedocles.
Summary: Coming together again.

Archive: Rinse, reuse, repeat. If you are so kind as 
to wish to archive this story, please email me at 
ts19@cornell.edu and let me know where.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. But don't let that stop 
you from reading.
Feedback: is always welcomed, at ts19@cornell.edu

Web site:
http://home.earthlink.net/~hiraeth/fanfic.html

Author's Note: A great big thanks to Mo, Robin, 
Artemis, and Sallie, each of whom offered help & 
advice - and to everyone at IWTB.
_____________________________________________________


"Mulder."

"What?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"I want you to be honest with me."

"Scully, I'm always honest with you."

She snorted delicately, rolling her eyes. "Right."

"I am."

"Listen, forget I asked, okay?" she said, 
exasperated. "When I come out there, just don't say 
anything."

"Anything at all?"

"Just... don't say anything about how I look. I look 
like I swallowed a whale, I know that already. Forget 
I asked, don't say anything."

"Scully--"

"I'm not coming out there unless you promise you 
won't say anything," she warned.

She heard him laugh softly on the other side of the 
door, resigned. "Okay, I promise."

With a deep breath, Scully pulled open the bedroom 
door and sailed out into the living room, picking up 
the small clutch purse she'd left on the end table, 
avoiding making any eye contact at all with Mulder. 
'Sailed' was the right word for it, she thought 
ruefully, maneuvering herself around furniture like 
an ocean liner, feeling every ounce of her eight-
months' pregnant self.

She turned to face him finally, a ready smile on her 
face, and was suddenly swept up in his arms, his 
long, lanky frame bending over hers, his lips 
descending to capture her own in a hard, warm, long 
caress. Startled, her body responded before her mind 
did, her hands reaching up to cling to his shoulders 
for support as her knees actually trembled.

He released her finally and she felt a blush steal 
across her face, swiftly, warm and red and 
embarrassing. He hadn't kissed her like that in... in 
eight months, really.

"I promised I wouldn't say anything about how you 
look tonight," he said in a low voice. "But there's a 
lot to be said for non-verbal communication, don't 
you think?"

She nodded, still flustered. "Yes."

He noticed her unsettled state and looked a little 
sheepish. "Didn't mean to startle you, Scully."

"Yes you did," she replied, catching her breath and 
heading towards the door. "Come on, Mulder. You owe 
me dinner big time."



Scully sipped her club soda, frowning at Mulder. "Are 
you sure you don't want a real drink, Mulder? I don't 
mind."

"Iced tea's fine," he replied.

"Just because I can't have a glass of wine doesn't 
mean you can't," she told him. "One of us should be 
having fun at least."

He shot her a mock-hurt look. "Ouch. You're not 
having fun?"

"That's not what I meant," she replied, exasperated. 
"Of course I am."

And she was. The restaurant was beautiful and ornate 
and lovely. The lights were dim and warm, the 
atmosphere blatantly romantic. Soft music drifted 
over from the nearby dance floor and she sighed, more 
than content to sink back into her chair, completely 
relaxed, gazing around the room with a small smile on 
her face.

Mulder's hand slipped into hers, his long fingers 
caressing her knuckles. When she turned to look at 
him he was staring at her in a soft, affectionate 
way, and she couldn't help but feel a little self-
conscious.

He shook his head ruefully at her expression. "It's 
okay, Scully," he said.

"Is it?" she asked without thinking, then thought 
better of it. "I mean --"

"Stop worrying and dance with me."

She stuttered, still choking back the words she 
hadn't meant to say in the first place. "With you?"

"You'd rather dance with someone else?" he asked, 
laughing at her.

She scowled at him. "If you're going to smirk at me 
like that, yes."

He was still smiling. "I won't smirk. I promise. Come 
on."

Scully sighed and stared at the table. "It's nice of 
you to ask, Mulder, but I have to take a raincheck. 
I'd be like the Queen Mary out there."

"You're not as big as you think you are," he said.

"Well, that's a nice way to put it!" she snapped 
back. "And I think I'm the best judge of how big I 
am, since I'm the one lugging this baby around, not 
you."

Her voice had taken on an unpleasant, shrill tone at 
the end of her tirade and yet he merely blinked at 
her calmly, unruffled. "I'd tell you that I'd do it 
for you if I could, but we both know I'd be lying," 
he admitted without remorse. "I'm chicken and 
childbirth scares me. You're tougher than I am."

She couldn't help smiling at his admission. "You're 
such a wimp, Mulder."

He nodded. "Stop stalling and dance with me. Or I'm 
not paying for dinner."

"How uncouth of you to blackmail me with food," she 
told him, pretending to be offended. "You, sir, are 
not a gentleman."

"Who cares?" he answered, rising to his feet and 
helping her from her chair. "I wanna dance."



By the time they reached the dance floor, she felt 
nervous. It was like being fifteen again, and going 
to the school dance with a boy, and being too ashamed 
to admit she'd never danced with anyone before. She'd 
thought she could figure it out by example, she 
remembered, but when the moment of truth had come she 
hadn't known where to put her hands, or where to 
look, or how to move. She still felt embarrassed, 
thinking back to that dance, even though the grown-up 
she has become knows better.

And of course, as an adult, the mysteries of the 
simple slow dance no longer terrified her. But she'd 
only danced with Mulder once before, years ago, and 
that had been just a silly lark that lasted a few 
mere moments. Not like this, this slow, intimate 
glide couples were doing all around them. Not like 
this, with her body so changed, her center of gravity 
shifted and lately, at least, any amount of grace she 
possessed missing in action.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. He gently 
placed her hands on his shoulders, leaving her palms 
to rest there as his own slid down her arms to her 
back. He turned her body slightly, nestling her side 
against his chest, and she dropped her head to rest 
there. He placed one warm, strong hand on her stomach 
and the baby tapped him a hello, and in reply he 
dropped a soft kiss onto her hair.

"Listen," he whispered. "It's your favorite song, 
Scully."

And it was, "Moonlight Serenade", and the lilting, 
lush music washed over her as she closed her eyes, 
finally relaxing completely into his arms. They began 
to move, slowly, swaying, and the baby settled down 
within her, as lulled by the moment as she was.

"Are there words to this song?" Mulder asked, the 
words floating down to her ear as she heard them 
vibrate in his chest.

"Yes."

"I've never heard them," he continued. "Are you 
sure?"

She sighed. "Yes."

"How does it go?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't know, how are you sure that -- Hey! How 
did you do that?"

Scully smiled, as the baby had chosen just that 
moment to aim a single kick straight at the spot 
where Mulder's hand had been resting. "I didn't do 
anything," she replied smugly.

"Coincidence, huh?" he asked doubtfully.

"Or maybe that was the baby's way of saying, 'Shut 
up, mister, you talk too much'," she offered in a 
teasing tone. "I don't know the words because I like 
it better without them. The music tells a story all 
on its own."

Mulder didn't respond for a moment, but tightened his 
arms around her and nuzzled her hair. "That's awfully 
poetic of you, Agent Scully," he said finally.

"Well, I have my moments."

"And I'm pretty crazy about all of them," he said.

She shivered, a rush of emotion coursing through her 
at his words, and burrowed her face in his chest, 
trying to hide the tears that had formed at the 
corners of her eyes.

She couldn't hold back a sniffle, however, and he 
chuckled softly. "Are you really--"

"Don't you laugh at me," she warned him. "I can't 
help it."

"I know, hormones," he replied. "It's okay. Weird, 
but okay."

And that would describe us, she thought, pretty much 
to a tee. Weird, but okay.

When they'd brought Mulder back he'd been so angry, 
so different from the loving, affectionate man who'd 
left her so many months before. He barely seemed 
willing to look at her, or to talk to her, or to 
stand still long enough for them to talk about... 
well, the obvious, really. The baby. His death and 
then his not-death. All that had happened to them. 
Even what they had been before. She'd felt like just 
his partner again, just the person he worked with, 
not someone he loved.

And then, he'd begun to thaw, a little, and started 
coming over to see her, checking up on her, treating 
her like a friend, at least. He'd stopped being so 
distant and reverted to his old, teasingly caustic 
self, and though it wasn't quite what it had been, it 
was something. Something of the man he'd been to her. 
Something she could respond to.

It wasn't until the hospital, and the partial 
abruption, that he'd returned to her completely. When 
he'd placed his hand on her stomach for the first 
time, she'd felt a jolt of recognition, of 
completeness, of the final piece of a puzzle being 
put into place. Suddenly the hole that had been there 
for all of her pregnancy was gone, filled by the one 
person who had been missing and the only person who 
mattered.

Ever since the hospital, he'd been by her side for 
every step, every experience, every event. He'd read 
her pregnancy books, asked when her next Lamaze class 
was, spent the entire weekend at her apartment. And 
tonight, tonight, he was the man she remembered 
again. And more to the point, she admitted to 
herself, she was once again the woman he loved.

They were okay again, she knew. Weird, as always, but 
okay.

The song ended and Mulder led her back to the table, 
his hand firmly clasped around hers. His lithe frame 
slipped easily around tables and chairs in their 
path, while Scully trailed behind somewhat more 
cautiously. She stumbled slightly and murmured an 
apology to the man she'd bumped into. Mulder was 
instantly at her side and apologetic, staying close 
to her until she was seated comfortably at their 
table.

She looked up at him with a smile, but her gaze 
wandered past to the man she'd bumped into. He was 
helping his dinner companion into her coat and 
turning to leave, but not before she caught a brief 
glimpse of his face.

"What is it?" Mulder asked urgently at her gasp of 
surprise. "Scully, what, are you--"

"I'm fine, Mulder," she reassured him quickly. 
"Really. Fine. I just saw someone..."

"Who? Where?" he demanded, sitting back in his chair 
but still concerned.

It was only for a moment that she considered not 
telling him. It was her first reaction, she had to 
admit; they'd spent years keeping things from each 
other, never coming out and admitting their feelings, 
their thoughts. Or at least, she had hidden things 
from him, so much of herself that she couldn't, 
wouldn't put into words.

And in the end it never made any difference. He knew 
her anyhow. He saw through her evasions and her 
boundaries, and he forgave her for them, and she 
realized how foolish she'd been to hold him at arm's 
length all that time. And now, she knew she had 
nothing to fear by sharing this with him as well.

"That man over there, by the door," she told Mulder, 
who promptly swiveled around to stare. "Don't be so 
obvious!" she hissed. "In the gray suit."

"The old guy?"

She raised an eyebrow and he caught her expression. 
He seemed to think about it for a moment, then 
chuckled. "Someone you knew, Scully? An old flame..." 
He trailed off then, realization dawning. "Daniel."

Scully gently took his hand in hers, much as he had 
earlier done. "That's who I stumbled into just now. I 
didn't even look at him."

Mulder nodded and turned slowly to watch Daniel 
leave. The older man held the door for his date and 
was gone a moment later, but Mulder kept gazing at 
the door as if he expected him to come bursting back 
in at any moment.

She smiled and squeezed his hands, drawing his 
attention back to her. "You've got your panic face 
on."

"You're right." Mulder took a deep breath and smiled 
sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she told him. "I was startled too. But 
it's not a big deal."

"Really?" Mulder asked softly.

"Really," she reassured him. "Do you think I have 
regrets about Daniel? I do, but I regret the things 
that happened between us over a decade ago. And
I've put those things behind me. As for when I saw 
him last year... Mulder, my choice was already made, 
don't you know that?"

He looked doubtful. "Are you sure of that? I always 
thought it was seeing Daniel again, something about 
the choice he offered you that made you, I don't 
know, turn to me instead."

The music was playing again, and she thought about 
how she'd felt in his arms, how right they'd been 
together. How well they'd fit, and moved, as if 
they'd been born to it, been dancing together for 
years.

She shook her head. "No. Seeing Daniel again made me 
sad because I realized I'd been pushing you away for 
so long. I had happiness right in front of me and I 
didn't grab hold of it. Almost until it was too late. 
When I saw him, I wondered why I was denying myself 
the chance to be happy with you. I was right to walk 
away from Daniel ten years ago. But I was wrong to 
run away from you and what we have."

"Well, you did take some convincing," he said with a 
teasing smile.

"And you were frustratingly vague at times, Mulder," 
she chastised him in return. "'The world didn't 
end'?" What kind of a post-first kiss line is that? 
What woman wants to be told that the world didn't 
grind to a halt when the man she loves finally kisses 
her?"

He laughed, his eyes dancing. "So you loved me even 
then, huh?"

"Mulder, I've loved you for years," she told him. "I 
loved you when we were partners, and when we were on 
stakeouts together, and every time you got hurt, and 
when I was sick, and when you were a jerk. I loved 
you last year and I loved you when you were gone, and 
I loved you when I buried you," she choked out, tears 
blurring her eyes. "And when you came back I loved 
you even more, but I just couldn't tell what you 
wanted anymore. And I don't want to ruin this night 
by talking about it but I need to know if this is 
real, if this is what you want and what we are and--"

"Shhh," he interrupted, nudging his chair closer to 
hers and wiping the tears from her cheek. "Shhh. It's 
okay. You could never ruin anything, you can talk 
about anything you want to."

Scully took a deep breath and then a sip of water, 
trying to get her composure back. She felt so 
humiliated, falling to pieces like that. "Can I blame 
that little meltdown on hormones, too?" she asked 
finally, trying to smile.

He lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed it 
softly. "Yes. Or you can blame it on me."

"You?"

"You asked me a question that you should already know 
the answer to, and it's my fault that you don't. Yes, 
this is real, Scully. Yes, you are everything I want 
and love in the world. And no, I've never felt 
differently, no matter how I've acted recently," he 
said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.

She was still unsure, though. "And the baby?"

"What about it?" he asked.

"What do you... It's just, what do you feel about the 
baby?" she whispered, the words coming out of her 
mouth like a rush of emotion, built-up tension she'd 
been holding inside for weeks now.

He smiled, slowly, and again he placed his hands upon 
her stomach, gently massaging her there in tiny 
circles. "I have all the hopes and dreams in the 
world for this baby, Scully."

She nodded. She knew what he meant. There were so 
many questions, so many possibilities even she was 
afraid to give voice to. The baby filled her with joy 
and longing, but at the same time mostly tinged with 
hope: hope that everything would turn out okay. That 
this baby was the miracle they'd been hoping for, no 
more, no less.

He leaned in and kissed her then, a soft caress of 
lips that brought a smile to her face. They looked at 
each other that way for a moment, and then Mulder 
turned pensive. "Did he see you?"

"Daniel?" she asked.

"I just wondered."

She shrugged. "I have no idea. I hope if he did see 
us, it made him happy. To see me happy, I mean. I'd 
like to think that of him. I know I'm happy to see 
him moving on with his life. And," she admitted with 
a small grin, "I kind of like showing you off."

Mulder laughed. "Me? I doubt he'd be too impressed -- 
I don't think I'm his type."

"Fine. Showing *us* off," she amended. "And stop 
laughing at me."

"I'm not."

"You are. You're laughing at me, and you still 
haven't fed me. Or the baby. We're starting to get 
cranky," she warned.

"If you promise to dance with me again later, I'll 
flag down a waiter and get you some food if I have to 
cook it myself," he promised.

She laughed. "Mulder, you may not be a gentleman, but 
you've got yourself a deal."

"Don't I know it," he said, leaning in for another 
kiss.


-END-