Las Vegas Gamble
By Shoshana

     What am I doing? I am standing in the Las Vegas airport
waiting for Mulder to fly in from D.C. He insisted I stay here,
reserve two rooms for tonight, and pick him up at 9 a.m. I don't
have a clue what he has in mind, other than a cryptic comment he made
about having a little fun for a change. I think I've probably had
enough fun in the last twenty-four hours to last me for weeks, and
the sad thing is I can't remember half the stuff that happened to me
yesterday.

     I know I told him I wanted to kick the Gunmen's asses, but now
I really just don't care anymore. I managed to get some sleep last
night and I finally feel like the drugs are out of my system. Mulder
might have some idea how to retaliate against them for luring me out
here, but I'm losing interest in revenge tactics. I'd just like to
have a good time for the rest of the day and get away from the three
geeks before they drive me mad.

     I'm actually glad Mulder's flying out. We seem to be having a
lot more fun together these days, and I hope its an ongoing trend.
Ever since I got shot in New York this year it's been a succession of
injuries or disappointments for both of us. My latest injury,
courtesy of Philip Padgett, was primarily psychological, causing me
to have nightmares for weeks after it occurred. If not for Mulder, I
wouldn't have made it through those weeks. He slept on my couch for
almost a week after Padgett's death. I told him he didn't have to
stay over, but I didn't discourage him not to. He was there when I'd
wake up in a cold sweat, screaming and anxious, fearful that someone
was there to steal the heart out of my chest.

     So, we could really use a break. And like my mother always
told us, 'When you get lemons, just make lemonade.' God, that sounds
corny. But it's true. I'm going to get something good out of this
trip after all. I wave at Mulder as he stands at the baggage claim
and walk over to greet him with a hug.

     "I hope you don't want to spend all our time seeking and
destroying the Lone Gunmen, Mulder."

     "Nah, I already prepared a special little something for them.
They'll get it in their E-Mail today. Directions to the home of a
well-known computer hacker. Except, by the time they follow the
directions, they'll be so lost in the desert they'll even be begging
the military helicopters for assistance. They won't be bothering you
for awhile, Scully."

     "When did you have time to dream that up?"

     "It was a long flight and I couldn't sleep. What's this about
you being drugged? You look fine now."

     "All the side effects have worn off. I can't remember half of
what happened yesterday. One minute I was doing an autopsy, the next
I'm in a hotel room with The Three Stooges and Suzanne Modeski. I'll
tell you more over dinner. Let's go get settled first."

     I grab his arm and practically pull him out of the airport.
Maybe my lack of inhibitions yesterday was carrying through to today.
I really don't give a damn what anyone thinks of our relationship
anymore, especially while we're on our own time in Sin City. I'll be
damned if I'm not going to have a great time today, with my handsome
partner in tow.
  
     Mulder seems a bit shocked by my mood, probably thinking that
I'm still under the influence of something. I am just happy, happy
that he is here, and that we can spend some time together as
anonymous tourists, rather than Federal Agents. No one will
recognize us here if we stay away from the hotel Def Con is located
in, and apparently our only D.C. 'friends' are off on a wild goose
chase today.

     He also is a little surprised that I only reserved one room.
It was really hard to get that one room, considering how many
conventioneers are in town. It is a suite however, with a sofa bed
in the living room and a separate bedroom. I feel more comfortable
with Mulder in the next room anyway, just like on the road.

     "Scully, are you sure you're comfortable with this
arrangement?," he asks anyway.

     "What's the problem Mulder? Scared of my bad influence?"

     "No, you're not the influence I was worried about..."

     "Just remember that I'm armed and dangerous and you'll have no
problem, Mulder."

     "What, me have problems? Come on, we have places to go and
Elvis impersonators to see, Ms. Scully."

     We spend most of the day acting like real honest-to-God
tourists. We even go to the Liberace museum just for the hell of it.
And to the Star TreK Experience, Guinness World Of Records Museum,
and to see the white tigers at the Mirage hotel. I have never, ever
had time to take off for Las Vegas and just have fun. Not in
college, not in the Academy, and certainly not since joining Mulder
on the X-Files. And I couldn't have a better companion for it all.
Sometimes I feel like I have a kid by the hand, not a grown man. And
I insist on holding his hand. If he thinks it's because I'm a little
woozy from yesterday, that's fine. I'm getting used to it and I'm
not letting go now.

     When we get back to the hotel, we change into nicer clothes and
go down to have a real dinner in a candlelit restaurant. Considering
all the crappy places we usually eat, I am delighted. This was
Mulder's idea, and I am impressed. He wants to know more about the
fiasco yesterday and I fill him in on the details. He can't believe
that Byers was still carrying a torch for Suzanne Modeski, but he
guesses that those guys don't get out much and that lightning only
strikes one of them every ten years. I really want to ask Mulder if
lightning bolts have ever struck his seemingly dense head, but I
decide that maybe that is just too much of a hint for now. I want us
to create our own electrical storm later, courtesy of Ms. Dana
Scully's devious plan.

     It is finally time to push this relationship over the edge, and
although I was told by the guys of my flirtatious activities
yesterday, I know that the only thing that was missing yesterday was
Mulder, the man I truly care about. I am sure he is in love with me,
especially after he took me out on that baseball diamond, and knocked
a few out of the park with me. I saw desire in his eyes that night,
mixed in with the familiar, steadfast conviction that he might screw
things up royally, crossing the wrong damn line in the sand. He had
all but left it up to me. And I'm ready to hit a home run now,
taking that seductive game of baseball to its logical conclusion.

     So, we walk around outside after dinner, enjoying the lights
and excitement of the Strip. I don't care to gamble, at least not
while I'm sober, I guess. The spring air is crisp and clean. Hot
summer temperatures haven't set in yet, and the nights have cooled
down to a comfortable level. We stop and pick up a decent bottle of
wine and head back to our room. We haven't seen one person we know
all day. We haven't witnessed, walked in on, or prevented one crime
all day. I feel like a different woman, a woman with a secret life
that I can only share with Mulder, and he can only share with me.

     We watch some very bad science fiction on a cable channel,
drink our wine slowly, and to my delight Mulder puts his arm around
me and never lets go. Maybe Plan B is unnecessary. Maybe I don't
have to go change into something sexy, maybe things will just happen.
I know he has something on his mind when he mutes the television,
looks straight at me, and expresses a solemnity in his eyes I haven't
seen all day.

     "Scully..."

     "Yeah..."

     "I had a wonderful day today."

     "I did too."

     "Scully..."

     "Mulder, I love you, too."

     I could tell him that aliens are launching an attack right this
minute and he wouldn't hear a word I was saying. He heard me say
those five affectionate words and his face went through a sweet
metamorphosis, spellbound by the weight of them. The smile in his
eyes matches his goofy grin, as he leans over and kisses me briefly,
experimentally, before we make the leap into passionate, deep kisses
that last as long as we want them to.
  
     I almost want to thank the Lone Gunmen for making this
possible. Unfortunately, they are probably lost in the desert at
this very moment, cursing Def Con, Dana Scully, and the U.S.
Government. They'll get over it. Fortunately, I am never going to
get over Fox William Mulder.

fin

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