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Title: Let's Face the Music and Dance Summary: Even if you enjoyed 'Nothing Important Happened Today' (which I did), forget it happened. This is MY Season 9 premiere, finished two weeks before NIHT aired. Dedication: Thanks need to go to five very important people: Al, who found me the perfect title song; Meg, who found me another song that fit wonderfully with the story; Yoda and KissMeMulder, who provided encouragement and the needed corrections; and Storm, who got me hooked on fanfic in the first place. This is for you guys!
There may be troubles ahead Before the fiddlers have fled Soon, we'll be without the moon Let's face the music and dance, dance Let's face the music and dance...
It was like a vision of Hell. Or, at least, what she had always envisioned Hell would be like. Fire and brimstone. Fear and suffering. Anger and hate. She felt it all surround her as she stood on the hilltop overlooking the valley below. It had once been a beautiful valley, she thought. She could still see the skeletal remains of trees, now burnt almost beyond recognition. And she saw what appeared to be a pond, which had once fed water to the valley, but now sat bubbling and steaming up into the frigid air. She breathed in deep, amazed at how cold the air was considering the inferno below her. She wondered vaguely how cold it would be without the flames. A large ball of glowing light shot by overhead, powerful rays from some unknown weapon raining down on the already battered ground. She felt more heat billow up from the resulting explosions. What did they think they were doing? she wondered. Wasn't the valley dead enough for them? Were they trying to kill the Devil himself? She heard a noise from behind her and turned. Coming up the rocky trail she had just traversed (though she had no recollection of having done so) was a man. He was tall and lean, his bare arms well muscled, the rest of his body covered in makeshift armor and weapons. His hair was almost non-existent, having been clipped as short as possible in a severe military cut. In the light emanating from the fire below, it blazed red. His eyes also mirrored the flames, their natural dark green color fighting to be seen. "What the hell are you doing up here?!" he called out, his voice as cold as steel, yet tinged with fear. "Do you think you're indestructible, or do you just not care anymore?" "I care!" she heard herself respond. "I care more than you'll ever know!" "Then get the hell away from where they can see you." He reached out and grasped her elbow, and she let him lead her away from the destruction behind her. She turned one last time and looked out over the valley floor, seeing in her mind's eye how it used to look: Green, verdant, full of life. "It used to be so beautiful," she said quietly. Somehow, he heard her over the wind and the roar of the flames. "I know, Mom. I remember."
Scully's eyes flew open, the visions of fire and explosions still imprinted on her corneas, the smell of smoke and death still fresh in her lungs. She threw the covers off herself and sat upright, swinging her bare legs over the side of the bed. Still breathing hard, she reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, then stood on shaky legs, unconsciously tugging the hem of her nightshirt down as she stumbled over to the crib that sat in the corner of the room. William lay sleeping peacefully inside. Cautiously, she reached out and touched his cheek, assuring herself his skin was still warm. That he was still alive and real. He moved his head at her touch, a soft moan emanating from his open mouth, but he didn't wake. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing heart. "Scully?" Opening her eyes, she turned to look at the man sitting in the bed she had just vacated. His dark hair was tousled and his lower face was shadowed with stubble. His hazel eyes were filled with concern. "What's wrong?" "Nothing," she said quietly, careful not to disturb Will. "Just a dream." "A dream," he asked, "or *the* dream?" Scully sighed again and moved back toward the bed. "It's just a dream, Mulder," she whispered. "Don't make it out to be more than that." She kneeled on her side of the bed. It was amazing how quickly she had adjusted to a 'her' side, especially after almost ten years of sleeping alone. "It's not a vision, or a premonition, or the reincarnation of some spirit that has taken over my mind and is waiting for the perfect opportunity to take over my body and ravish you until your heart stops beating and you can't breathe anymore." "Damn," he muttered, slowly sinking back against his pillow. "What a way to go." He gave her a cheeky grin, which made her grin in return as she slid back under the covers. She reached out to extinguish the light before stretching out on her back. She closed her eyes, but she could feel him staring at her. With a soft groan, she turned her back on him. "Mulder, I'm sorry I woke you. Now, go to sleep." He didn't respond, and she still felt his gaze on her. For a moment, she wondered if it was her imagination, and that he had, in fact, already fallen asleep. But if there was one thing she had learned in the many years she had worked with this man, it was that he never gave up easily, if at all. And that the 'feel' of his stare was as intense as his actual gaze. With another groan, she sat up and turned to look at him. He was lying on his side, leaning on his elbow, head propped in his hand. And he was indeed staring at her. "Quit it," she said softly but sharply. "Quit what?" "Quit staring at me like that. It makes me nervous." "Why does it make you nervous?" His lips had curved into a soft smile. "Because, I can never tell what you're thinking when you look at me like that." "Like what?" "Mulder!" she said, exasperation filling her voice. "Would you quit with the twenty questions already? I'm tired and I'd like to go back to sleep." "So sleep." "I can't with you staring at me!" "Why not?" His voice was calm, relaxed. "You do it all the time." She lay silent for a while, then she looked at him. "I do what all the time?" "Sleep while I 'stare' at you," he said, his voice becoming husky. His admission that he watched her while she slept should have unsettled her, but instead it shot an arrow of arousal down to her groin. "Mulder..." |