Not Just Another New Year's Eve (Part 1 of 2) By Mary Kleinsmith (BUC252@aol.com) Spoilers: Anything up to and including season 7. Requiem and anything thereafter has not and will not happen in my universe. Summary: Last year, Mulder and Scully had their first kiss on New Year's Eve. How will they manage to top it this year, now that the real new Millennium is arriving? Rating: PG Classification: MSR Archive: Yes, anywhere Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and everything related to them belong to Chris Carter (the jerk!) and 10-13, with magic added by David and Gillian. I'm only borrowing them, especially since the fic writers have a better sense of what to do with Mulder and Scully than CC and Company does. Still, I'm not making any money on this. Author's Note: This is in response to a fic challenge by Kimpa for New year's stories. I think I managed to touch on all the points she wanted included. Feedback: Please, please, please, please, please, please, please? Not Just Another New Year's Eve By Mary Kleinsmith (BUC252@aol.com) I knew that our relationship had been progressing. Maybe not as quickly as it could have, and definitely not as quickly as part of me wanted, but it was progressing. Still, it took me totally off guard when Mulder invited me over to his place for New Year's Eve. After last year's kiss, and our increased amounts of time spent together, I expected a restaurant, a nice dinner, maybe a dance club if he was feeling particularly brave. No, that's not true. That was what I thought might happen. What I expected was to find he and I parked out in the middle of nowhere looking for lights in the sky or vampires or something like that. I'd tried to find out his plans. I asked . . . I pleaded . . . I bribed . . .. I even, God forgive me, fished around on his hard drive at work but came up with nothing indicating his plans. And not knowing was making me very nervous. I'm an orderly person, and I like to have all my plans planned to a tee. All my ducks in a row, as my Mom would tell me. This being caught off guard as far as plans were concerned was making me worry more than I knew I should. Well, now that I've sat in my car and pondered it all for fifteen minutes, coming very close to making me late for my scheduled 7:00 arrival, it's time to get off my butt and go up there. Nothing is going to happen that you don't want to, I remind myself, and I know this. Mulder would never take advantage. But I know what I want to happen tonight, and a lot of my fear is coming from not knowing if Mulder wants the same things. The walk from my car to the front door of Mulder's apartment building goes without incident, despite my fears that venturing out in heels rather than boots would create a problem. I must remember to thank his landlord for keeping the walk so well salted. As I arrive at the door, I pass a man I don't recognize coming out, and am relieved that I wore my long winter coat over my clothes. The guy's already been imbibing, based on the leer he gives me, and I wouldn't want a single thing about me to encourage him. I brush past him with every bit of my ice-queen image showing, and it luckily works. He continues on his way and I enter the building and proceed to the elevator. The fourth floor, as usual, is dark. What Mulder's landlord has against lights, I'll never know, but there is only the bare minimum, and those are only turned on when absolutely necessary. Luckily, through years of experience, I know exactly how many steps it takes to bring me to my partner's door. I run hands over my hair, trying to tell without seeing if it was still in place and doing my best to ignore the slight trembling in them. It's probably just the cold . . . Three knocks and some time later, I'm still waiting outside his door. Where the heck is he? I mean, this was his idea, right? I knock again, ideas entering my mind that I'd rather didn't. What if he'd run off and ditched me again? What if he'd been attacked? What if he never made it home from the office at all? What if he's in there, but hurt. God knows Mulder's accident prone enough. Convincing myself that I'm more than justified, I set my oversized purse on the floor and extract my key chain from my pocket. Mulder's key is easy to find - it's the first one next to the fob he himself gave me for my birthday a few years ago. It's worn, and he kids me that if I get rid of the ugly thing he'll get me another, but nothing could replace this one, and I'm hanging onto it, no matter what. It's special to me, if only because it came from him. The inside of the apartment is as dark as the hallway. I flick a switch and shut the door, turning to hang my coat on his coat rack. There's a sheet of FBI letterhead, used on the one side, taped to his door. "Scully, I had to step out for a minute. Make yourself comfortable if I don't get back before you get here. - M" I laugh to myself. The if clause was unnecessary and I know it, but I'm sure Mulder didn't think twice. I take the note down and fold it gently - a momento - and slide it into my purse, ignoring that fact that I'm now noticing that the writing on the back appears to be a draft of a report for Skinner. On second thought, I leave my coat on and instead investigate the apartment. Mulder's kitchen, for a change, is immaculate and the table in his entryway has been cleared of everything but two chairs, two place mats, a flower centerpiece and a pair of tapered candles. I wonder what Mulder is planning for dinner. I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't even know if Mulder can cook, let alone is willing to do it in front of me. He's done a great job at creating an ambiance, though, so I should at least do my part. I proceed to the living room, turning on the small light on his desk. I remember years ago when that light was used to summon his mysterious informant. I used it myself when Mulder was missing. Now, though, I only want to see it used for our own pleasure. I've been in Mulder's apartment often enough to know where his CD player is, but I wasn't sure what kind of music he'd have for New Year's Eve, so I extract a small stack of my favorites from my purse. I know that he won't like all of them, and given that knowledge, I choose one I'm pretty sure he won't and put it in the player. I really felt like I wanted to hear it tonight, but this way, it'll probably be over by the time Mulder finally gets back from wherever he's gone. Okay, okay. I know that Sheena Easton isn't exactly everybody's cup of tea, but I've always loved her songs, and was a big fan back in the 80's while I was going through college and med school. When I saw this CD - her greatest hits - on the store shelf, I just had to get a copy. I slide the drawer shut after inserting the disk, watching as the numbers count up to ten. I skip ahead to For Your Eyes Only, unsure whether I want to hear this particular one, but it's too nice to skip. I'd made love for the first time to this song, back when I mistook a sex-starved med student for the love of my life. I learned the hard way, but still loved the song. Even that couldn't ruin it for me. I wander around the apartment, almost pacing, while the song plays through. His desk, as usual, is a mess, but more orderly than I've seen it in a long time. I can see his obvious attempt at neatening up the place even if it didn't completely succeed. My eyes are drawn to a note scribbled near his telephone. It appears to be a woman's name and a phone number, and I immediately feel anger. No, not quite anger. Jealousy. Who is this woman and why would my partner have her phone number. Not even her full name, as if Mulder's familiar enough with her to know exactly who "Chelsea" is. Mulder knows me better than I know myself, though, and he'd never leave something like that out for me to see if he wasn't more than willing to explain it. I try to calm myself, giving him the benefit of the doubt but making a mental note to ask him about it later. I sigh heavily as the song switches to one called, "I Wouldn't Beg for Water". I love this song, and every time I hear it, I can't help but think of my relationship with Fox Mulder. It's the voice of both of us, as we've proven time and time again. We'd do anything for each other. I know I would do anything for him, and I am secure in my belief that he'd do anything for me, too. As Sheena says, I wouldn't beg for water, but I'd get down on my knees for you. With the haunting tune playing in the background, I venture into Mulder's bedroom, surprised at my own bravery. I've only been in here once, but have a different image from that time, which I can't explain, of a mirrored ceiling and a waterbed, despite just how out of character that seems. Okay, I know he mentioned awhile back that his waterbed had sprung a leak, but a mirror? I don't know from where this is coming, but I'm pleasantly relieved to see that, as I remember, he has a completely normal bed and absolutely no mirror anywhere except above his dresser. I'm drawn out of my study of Mulder's bedroom by a new song. I'd forgotten about this one, but as much as I Wouldn't Beg for Water is our song, When He Shines is Mulder's. Everything about him shines, from his incredible intelligence to those striking hazel eyes. Like the man in the song, he's sometimes a child and sometimes so very, very old, but that's why I love him. Yes, like the singer, I admit that I'm in love with my handsome partner. There's nothing more alluring than when he's putting all those nay-sayers at the bureau to shame with his talents, brushing aside their jealousy. He's gentle at times, strong at others (sometimes at the same time) and often temperamental, but he's always a bright star in the darkness. My eyes fall on his fish tank, the residents circling gently in the water, the tank's light reflecting off their golden scales. Even Mulder's pets shine. I hear a noise outside the door and quickly shut off the player. No way do I want Mulder to know the last song I heard was the beginnings of My Sugar Walls. If I'd been four years younger when it was released, I assure you it would have been banned in the Scully household. Mulder must be having a problem getting his key into the keyhole because I've already got a new, more sedate CD into the player before the door is opened. I'm halfway to him before he realizes that I've already arrived, and his blush is adorable as I catch him with his arms full of bags. To be continued in part 2