Swiss Witch here. I'll be reviewing this story in its entirety over the next three weeks. This particular tale has got to go down, hard, mean and fast, and I'm just the imported wonder to do it.

This is the pits. This is the ultimate schmoop fic. Given a choice between eating a bag of confectioners sugar with a spoon and reading this again, I'd be hard pressed to figure out which I would prefer. And the Swiss Witch doesn't have much of a sweet tooth.

Get a lemon to bite on when you read this. It helps the insulin levels stay in balance. It certainly can't leave a worst taste in your mouth than this does on it's own.

"Vision of Love" (1/3)

(or "Mary Sue gets Married")

by Falconer

Email: [email protected]

Classification: MSR, G (Pure and utter gak.)

Spoilers: Minor references and characters from "Squeeze," "E.B.E.,"

"Emily," "Biogenesis"/"The Sixth Extinction, I & II," "Millennium."

(And your appetite. This story will surely annihilate that.)

Archive: Gossamer, yes; Spooky's, yes. Anywhere else,

please ask me first. Thanks!

Summary: Mulder and Scully finally tie the knot.

(After being forced to be in this story, the only knot these characters would want to tie is in a noose to hang themselves with.)

Disclaimer: I free acknowledge that the characters in

_The X-Files_ are created by Chris Carter and remain

his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 Productions,

and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century

Fox, Inc. No infringement of any copyright is intended in

this story.

Feedback: Please do, if you're so moved. (Oh, I'm moved, Falconer. I'm SO moved.)

******************************************************************

"I had a vision of love

And it was all that you've given to me

I had a vision of love

And it was all that you turned out to be"

--Mariah Carey, "Vision of Love"

(Let's get something straight. Mariah Carey and/or her music should never get near anything even vaguely relating to the X-Files. In fact, it's Switzerland's opinion that if anything Mariah Carey ever did came anything near the depth and breadth of Mulder and Scully's characterizations, she would spontaneously combust. Any sort of proximity to 1013's rich angst and her little "Butterfly" butt would be sucked into the vacuum of the darkside, never to grace another jet ski again.)

HOLY TRINITY CATHOLIC CHURCH

GEORGETOWN

WASHINGTON DC

5:00 PM (Does this have bearing on what's happening? Do we have to know the time?)

The nave of Holy Trinity Church was resounding (Bad verb tense, right off the bat. Try "resounded".) with the stately but joyous brass of Purcell's "Trumpet Voluntary in D Major." Half the pews were filled by U.S. naval officers and their families, half by high-ranking officials and special agents of the FBI. The bride's niece (Who is this?) , dressed in white, led the bridal procession, tossing handful of white rose petals in the air as she walked down the aisle. The bridesmaids slowly followed in lavendar (lavender) satin dresses in a style to make any bridesmaid smile as proudly as the bride. (This sentence doesn't make anyone smile. It's run-on awful.) Tara Scully as matron of honor wore the same, only in a slightly darker shade. (A smile or a dress?)

After the last bridesmaid had turned to take her place, little Matthew Scully scurried down the aisle to join his mother (, just like a rat.) . Tara stopped just long enough to check that the rings were still attached to the pillow (Did she stop herself or Matthew? It think you're missing a word here. It's called "HIM".) and then continue (More tense issues. I think you wanted past tense here) , guiding her boy back to his place by the groom.

(Wait a second. I thought he had run to his mother first? Is his mother the groom? Oh and by the way, anybody want to take a wild guess who the bride is? I am so afraid of this story.)

Dana Katherine Scully grinned broadly. (That's right. It's our poor Scully.) (")Well("), she thought,(") he wasn't quite three. God grant me the chance to be such a mother someday (" ), (yes, God or I'll give you SUCH a pinch.) she prayed.

(HURP. Whoopsie.

The Swiss Witch would like to congratulate Falconer for holding the record for writing the story, which, out of the entire cannon of fanfic she has read to date, was the one that made the Wicked Witch of Switzerland puke the earliest in. Congratulations, Falconer. The check's in the mail.)

Then the trumpets' (Trumpets? This is Mulder and Scully, not Princess Grace and Prince Ranier.) metallic voices swelled from the balcony ("Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto"), and the congregation rose as she started her way down the aisle.

Scully walked as if under autonomic guidance. (CSM's in the back with a remote control, I'll bet. Nor is that this word is even vaguely appropriate, Miss Author Malapropos.) She was in too much euphoria (there's a word you might want to know about, it's called "euphoric". Authors use it so they don’t have to write things like "too much euphoria". ) to make any rational thoughts fall in line. Her mind was already in a haze, without her fingertip veil fogging everything (She should get some "Rainex" ™ for that veil fogging problem. It works on windshields evertime.) . Even the hem of her gown gently soughing (I wasn't familiar with this word. That, in itself, is no revelation. But the great number of people I questioned about it weren't familiar with this word either. I actually started to wonder if the author had actually made it up. But because the benevolent Swiss Witch takes a lesson from Socrates and is aware of nothing but the fact of her own ignorance, I asked my esteemed colleague, the Wicked Witch of the Midwest to research this word for me. She, bless her blackened heart, found the word in Webster's dictionary. It's an Old English usage that means "to moan or make sighing sounds". Go figure. All I can figure is the dress knew how wrong this fic was, too, and chose to weep along with us, Gentle Readers.) along the carpet hushed away all worries. She knew instinctively the ivory satin Vera Wang was right for her. (Honey, Vera Wang is right for everybody. However, it is sincerely doubtful Scully could afford one of those things. Sure, it's easy to write about. Not as easy to pay for. ) It was a smooth, unadorned A-line design, with a scoop neckline that flattered her figure. He'd been as enthused as she when she picked it, remarking that it was gorgeous in its simplicity, like her. (Y'know, if the man I loved said that my wedding gown "was gorgeous because it was simple, just like me," I might think twice about marrying him. Once he'd returned to consciousness, that is.) Just as her engagement ring held two half carat diamonds--one for each of them to make a whole. (HURG……GAH…..oh dear. The Swiss Witch just projectile hurled all over the monitor. Now that I've thrown up more lunch, I see that last sentence was indeed a fragment. Of course, it would have to be. A real sentence couldn't hold the weight of that much schoopy drivel.

While we're here, since when did Mulder and Scully get made of money? Did they rob a bank?

The Swiss Witch has participated in a number of weddings throughout her life. This is an expensive wedding. Not to be a nosy unwelcome guest, but let's tally it up so far: [Judith Martin, look away!)

Rental on Holy Trinity Church is not free, even for members. I called and found out! [You see, author, there's this thing called RESEARCH! It's rather important when you're writing about places that really exist. Try it sometime.] Anyway, the nice person at the church office told me there is a reduced rental fee if you're a member of the Church, but the officiate fee is around $400 bucks. If you're not a member of the church, rental is around a grand.

But the Church official brought up even more of an interesting point. Author, dear, pay attention, now.

Mulder isn't Catholic. There is speculation that Mulder is Jewish, albeit non-practicing, but this doesn't matter. What does matter is that since Mulder is definetely not Catholic, He and Vera Wang Scully couldn't get married in a Catholic Church unless Mulder agreed to the pre-Cana classes and then, signed a paper stating he'd raise the children in the Catholic tradition. Gentle Readers, let's have a show of hands. How many people think that Mulder would agree to do all of this? I thought so. Author, I think you've been voted down.

Anyway, since that little bit of research was so much fun, the Swiss Witch continued driving up her long distance bill with some calling and pricing! She'll itemize things as they appear from here on out but for now, the Scully/Mulder/ Mary Sue wedding costs to date:

Vera Wang dress: around $3000

Fingertip veil: I'll say she went cheap on this, $150

Shoes: It's Scully. She'll have killer shoes. We'll make them Vera Wang, too. $300

Trumpeters: probably around $500 to $600 for the ceremony. Trumpeters are expensive. VERY expensive. Union trumpeters are more. Oh the things you learn when you do research, author!

Rental on Holy Trinity Church: $1000 (the Swiss Witch hopes Scully booked early. They easily stay booked for weddings over a year in advance.)

Officiates' fee: $400

Engagement ring at 1/2 carat per stone. I'm sure it's gold, probably between $3500 retail, depending on the clarity of stone.

So far: $8,650.00

With that sort of cash, it makes us all want to be Federal Agents. No wonder governmental toilet seats cost thousands of dollars.

Grand tally at the end. Let's move on.)

Seeing Mulder at the end of the aisle brought back a clarity that allowed her to notice little details at random. Secretaries and wives whispering among themselves, the Navy brass standing stiffly proud of Bill Scully's little girl, the FBI VIPs in their dark pin-stripes only slightly more relaxed, but equally as proud of one of their own. She felt like blowing kisses to them all to show how grateful she was,

and--

She suddenly stopped briefly in her tracks (realizing that a) she had never blown kisses to anyone in her life and b.) she and Mulder were private people, and not immensely popular. Hell, she thought, listening to her dress moan on the carpet, Mulder doesn't have a family anymore. She looked around at all the faces. How odd that the long dead Bill Scully's friends would come to the wedding of his 36 year old daughter, especially to a man as odd as Mulder, who most of them would despise on sight. No, Scully thought, the scream rising in her throat. This was all so intensely wrong. She closed her eyes and pinched herself hard enough to draw blood.)

*Ahab?* (YAAARG……WHURP. The Swiss Witch must get some paper towels before she reads any more of this.)

She forced herself to continue, but mainly to see the man in the pew a couple behind her family's. *No*, it couldn't be... (That's right. Not even "Bridal Scully"™ buys this horrible mess.) Her eyes suddenly were welling (does this mean her eyes are drilling or acting as a well? Try "welled". It's another of those tricksy English verbiage things!) with tears, and she quickly wiped them to make sure of this apparent hallucination. When she looked back at the stout, bald man, he turned and smiled beneficently, and she knew it wasn't just another captain in dress whites. Her father was beaming at her with a look of love and approval she hadn't had seen for years before his death. She stumbled slightly, and when she looked again he was gone.

In his place was a smiling young woman with long, coarse, blonde hair.

(Then Obi Wan and Anakin Skywalker appeared and waved merrily with their friend Yoda as the Ewoks sang a merry trumpet song. )

*Missy.* Oh my God. (Oh my God is right. )

Scully choked back a sob (of fear) and shook her head. Please, dear Lord, no, not today. (Not the evil hallucinations that tell me to hurt others.) Then suddenly a feeling of profound peace enwrapped her soul like a warm blanket, and all fears vanished. (It was good to be crazy, to give into the madness at last. She lifted her expensive dress over her head and yelled at the top of her lungs to the stunned congregation, "SEE MY TATA?! SEE IT?! WORSHIP MY TATA!") What was she thinking? (I don't know. Perhaps she should go talk to Haley Joel Osment.) Weren't they still her family? (Only in an ethereal sense. Otherwise, those are some dead folks.) Of course they were welcome at her wedding. She looked again as she passed the pew, but Melissa was gone (but appeared again shortly, this time, hanging on the crucifix. The world ended next Tuesday. The End.).

Looking straight ahead, her spirits lifted once more when she saw her beloved soon-to-be-life-partner, Fox Mulder. As classy as a new James Bond in his white tux, (YAAAAAAAAAAAAG…this is starting to prove problematic) he stood nonchalantly before the chancel steps, seeming not to have noticed her disquiet. (That Mulder. His simple bride is over the edge, but he's the last one to know.) But she was still shaken, not stirred, by the sight of him. (Clever? Stupid? Clever? Stupid? Clever? Stupid? Mmmmm…… I pick: STUPID.)

A.D. Walter Skinner stood by as best man, (Can you see that?

Mulder: (knocks on Skinner's door) Sir? Do you have a moment?

Skinner: Yes, Agent Mulder?

Mulder: Sir, I know that you've betrayed us and put us in jeopardy time and time again. I even know that you pop a boner every time Scully comes within three feet of you. But would you be my best man?

Skinner: Why, yes, Agent Mulder! I would love to! I'm so happy for you and I'll never betray you again!

The Swiss Witch just doesn't think so.

with Byers, Langly, and Frohike as the the groomsmen. (GEEEEEEEAH……. Urp….woog… I should get some saltines) Scully wish (verb tense issues again. "Wished") she saw them more often black tuxes. (Perhaps they'll get new careers as waiters to accommodate her.) Byers was debonair as always, but even Langly looked surprisingly dapper in a real tux, his long hair pulled into a ponytail. Frohike acted like a proud uncle, frequently wiping his eyes and blowing his nose (knowing his chance to slip Dana Scully some love-salami was gone forever).

But none could hope to compare with Mulder. He was the Man in the Wonderful Ice Cream Suit, and she simply wanted to lick him all over.

(Stop the bus. AGAIN.

It's a race, Gentle Readers. Falconer is attempting to replace Damacia Johnson in the Swiss Witch's pointed little heart as the most hysterically funny author on the site. This may be one of the worst metaphors of all time and the Swiss Witch is fascinated and horribly afraid where it came from.

"And then, Mulder's Good Humor truck pulled up behind him and he took her inside and made love to his new ice cream drumstick bride. And they had waffle cones and fairy sparkles forever!"

This is Mulder in an "Ice Cream Suit":

This is the Swiss Witch's lunch giving up the ghost:

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAG……..)

With his his hair longer now he looked... mmmm...so much like he had when they first started going together. (Going together? Please, no.)

Oh my-- Going together? (Oh my? Oh my aching head, that is.) Yes, in a way they had been. But it had been a professional, arms-length relationship for six years. (That's right. That doesn't constitute "going together". Shared expense reports do not a romance make.) Once they were past his terrible ordeal from the alien artifact, however, something had changed. Almost without realizing a need or a desire to, they had settled into the comfortable relationship of a married couple. About time they made it official. (Wasn't that a lovely glossing over of the entire courtship of Mulder and Scully! Anybody else curious about timeline? I know I am.)

She reached his side, and he took her hand, smiling in that subtle quizzical way he had when they'd first kissed, last New Year's. (Well, we know it's 5 p.m. sometime this year. But when? ) She returned it with the same, broad, tight-lipped (tight-lipped is not a flattering descriptive phrase) smile she'd offered then, barely holding back the swelling emotions she felt this time. The weight of the world was no longer their concern. This day was theirs alone. Together they walked up to stand before Father McCue at the altar. (Snaps for the priest's name. Father McCue is pretty funny.)

The old priest beamed at them and began, "(Get out of my church, you heathen.) Dearly beloved, you have come together in this church so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of the Church's minister and this community.

Christ abundantly blesses this love..." (Are you quite sure Mulder wouldn't say something about Jesus blessing his union? Think about it. Hard.)

Scully was so glad Mulder had agreed to a Catholic wedding, even one outside the mass. She didn't think he would have put up with a full nuptial mass, and that wasn't really necessary, but she'd always dreamed of a traditional church wedding. Some traditions were worth keeping. (They still couldn't get married in the Church if Mulder didn't obey the rules. Since when has Mulder obeyed the rules EVER? And this isn't just a tradition. Catholicism is a serious commitment.)

After they had stated their intentions to marry, Father McCue asked them to join their right hands and declare their consent. Mulder suprised (surprised) her by turning to face her and taking both her hands. (Isn't that fairly standard? Did she expect him to look at the floor? ) When she saw the serious but loving look in his eyes, she knew that improvisation was just his way of making this declaration personal, that he meant this with all his heart. (He took a deep breath and said, "Scully, it's all a consortium plot. They've injected you with a hallucinogen. You're delirious.")

"I, Fox, take you, Dana, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

Scully was surprised by how calm she felt. This was a major step in her life, (y'think?) but it was so natural a consequence of their relationship it was almost predestined. She replied, "I, Dana, take you, Fox, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

(Fox and Dana. Eww. Uh oh….urp….RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGHHH…. drat. I liked that dress.)

Father McCue enjoined, "You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in His goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide.

Amen."

Matthew Scully came forward and held up the ring(-)pillow, and after Father McCue had blessed the rings, Mulder took hers and said, "Dana, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of all that's holy." (Go, Mulder! Find a way around that Catholic canon!)

Still he had to improvise, and Scully wasn't exactly surprised that he hadn't used the proper wedding language. (Mulder would be in trouble with the Catholic Church. They don't smile on improvisation during marriage vows, either.) But she wouldn't nag him about it. (Smart Scully. No one likes a nagging wife.) It might take a long time for him to share her beliefs and faith, if ever, (probably not) but she would always love him. (Nice of her.) When he slid it onto her finger, he stroked her palm slightly, giving her a tiny thrill.

She picked up his ring and answered with the proper pledge, "Fox, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." (Knowing what he believes, does anyone really think she'd say that? No.) Putting his on, she took gave his ring finger a gentle squeeze. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. ("Why, Scully. You pulled my finger!")

Then came the blessings and prayers while they knelt before the altar. Scully barely heard them, her focus was out the corner of her eye at her new husband. (This could be two sentences, Falconer. Comma abuse is a hanging sin in Witch World) The love in her heart was as pure and holy as any blessing Father McCue was bestowing, and she knew instinctively Fox felt the same, even though he might not express it quite that way. (Once again, the bile rises………… WAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGG HURP.) His eyes were on her as well, a wry smile on his full lips. (Wry? Author, do you know what "wry" is?) She could hardly wait to kiss them.

Then came the wedding music, a recording of "I Knew I Loved You," by Savage Garden, (I don't think so! Mulder and Scully are NOT 17.) and Scully felt her heart melting. She looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. When he returned her gaze, his eyes said ("Run, Scully. Run.") how glad he was that she liked it. (Oh, I see. Mulder picked this. Today the role of Mulder will be played by a 17 year old sappy girl who watches way too much MTV.) He picked the song. But how could he have chosen better?

"But some things you just don't question."

(oh please don't write the lyrics out oh please don't write the lyrics out oh please don't write the lyrics out oh please don't write the lyrics out oh please oh please oh please oh please )

The lyrics were so perfectly true for both of them.

(Oh Falconer, STOP! For the love of humanity, the Swiss Witch begs you: STOP!!)

"I think I've found my best friend."

My truest friend. (Here comes lunch.)

"And in your eyes

I see the missing pieces

I'm searching for.

I think I've found my way home."

The truth had been beside her all these years. Why had she denied it?

(GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG)

"I am complete now that I've found you."

All either of us had ever needed to be whole was the other.

(The sentence structure had ever needed to be better by the writer.)

"I knew I love you before I met you

I think I dreamed you into life

I knew I love you before I met you

I have been waiting all my life."

(Inserting sets of lyrics in fanfic is utterly banal. Take heed, all tempted authors, at the heinous examples all over this piece of dreck.)

Scully squeezed her eyes tightly (fighting the urge to blow chunks all over Vera, Father McCue and Mulder ) and breathed a silent prayer of (release from this horrendous fic) thanks for the blessing she was about to receive--the blessing of being married to her her one true love. (It must be a big true love. She had to say "her" twice.)

Eventually the last ritual blessing had been bestowed, and Father McCue announced, "It is my great pleasure to present Mr. Fox Mulder and Mrs. Dana Scully-Mulder." (Scully-Mulder sounds like a new type of water toy. Come to think of it, in Part Two of "Vision of Love", it *IS* a new type of water toy.)

Mulder lifted her veil, and Scully's vision was suddenly clouded again with tears. He slid his arms around her and bent low while she wrapped hers around his neck. As they kissed, tenderly at first, then growing in passion she was lifted up and not just physically. (Um? Will there be an explanation of this vague metaphor?) Then came several loud pops, and Scully gave a start.

*Shots fired!* (Alex Krycek appeared at the back of the church. He was aiming a gun straight at the Vera Wang and screaming over and over, "Stop kissing him, you bitch!")

But it was only the irrepressible Langly (the scamp!) clapping, (gunshots vs. clapping? No. I don't think you'd get those confused. These hallucinogens are making Scully paranoid.) and soon the whole congregration (or the congregation) was applauding. Mulder continued kissing her, holding her tightly, single-minded and oblvious (I think he might prefer to be oblivious. For that matter, so would I.) Eventually the applause faded, and after a few moments Scully heard Father McCue softly clear his throat. Only then did she and Mulder stop. (Yes. That's in bad taste. But this entire wedding is ridiculous, so what's a little overextended spit swapping between bizarre characters?) They grinned widely at each other and touched their foreheads. Then the trumpets in the balcony began pealing out a more upbeat springy tune, ("Shake Your Groove Thing") , and clasping hands, they started down the aisle (the trumpeters did? Or the trumpets themselves?) . Scully felt so exuberant she was soon skipping like a child (No.) , and Mulder had to trot alongside to keep pace. She wanted to run and laugh and squeal with joy. (No.) The time for stateliness was done; the time for celebration had come.

(On behalf of all the readers out there, the Swiss Witch would like to ask Falconer:

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MULDER AND SCULLY? AND HOW MUCH RANSOM DO WE NEED TO COUGH UP TO GET THEM BACK?

Woozy. Urpsy. Onward.)

************

With only Maggie and Skinner standing with them in the reception line, it still lasted longer than the service (what did? "It" is a little vague) . But Scully's enthusiasm hardly flagged, her spirits constantly buoyed by her mother and the countless well-wishers (what about by her new husband? Was he being a drag?) . And kisses. Practically every male FBI guest wanted to kiss her, but she allowed them only a kiss on the cheek. She joked frequently to many a disappointed agent that she didn't want to be too tired to kiss her husband that night (That's ridiculous. FYI, Gentle Readers, Scully in this piece of fic is really fixated with purity and cleanliness, almost to the point of dementia. It will all come clearer in Part 2). She also figured some were dissuaded by Skinner's glower, which seemed to arrest a few in mid-attempt. (Dissuaded and arrest in the same sentence! Somebody got a Thesaurus for Christmas!) She wished he would extend that disapproval to some of the FBI secretaries whose ardor in kissing Mulder was almost scandalous. (The use of overblown and stilted language [not to mention archaic as the WWMW pointed out earlier], is getting on my imported nerves.)

Oh well, she thought, after this he's *all* mine. (Mary Sue, stop impersonating Scully. All stories are infinitely more interesting when she really shows up.)

At the end when the Lone Gunmen came to congratulate them, Frohike was still teary-eyed. In an effort to cover it, he shook hands with Mulder, embraced him and slapped him on the back, but faltered when he turned to Scully. (I hate stories that exploit Frohike's affection for Scully. Ask Brandon Ray. Swiss' blood pressure is rising.)

"Frohike," she coaxed, (coaxing sounds rather cruel) knowing how badly he wanted to kiss her. "Don't be shy. You don't think I'm so hot that I'd burn you?" ("Because, I'm HOT, Frohike! REALLY hot! Don't you want to know how hot I am?" Sorry. I was channeling part 2 of this crap.)

He gulped and croaked, "I'm sorry, Scully. That just won't do, even if I didn't have The Man looking on. (Not just The Man, Frohike. According to Falconer, all but J. Edgar Hoover attended this nuptial.) " He shook her hand, then in a last desperate struggle with his desires brought it to his lips and gave her a chaste, but lingering kiss.

"Aw, geez, Fro'," (FRO?) said Langly, "you're makin' us look bad, man. Soon she'll think we've all become gentleman...like Byers." (In addition to all the expense of this wedding, Mulder and Scully must have paid a buttload for this massive stereotyping of major characters.)

Scully gave him a haughty look and took Frohike's head in her hands to give him a long kiss on the forehead.

(And the stereotypical wheel spun on and on.)

Frohike glanced smugly at Langly and stepped aside to shake Maggie's hand. Then to everyone's surprise, Langly took Scully's hand, shook it, and pulled her to him, swooping and dipping in one fluid movement. Scully's eyes went wide in mock terror, belied by her wide grin. But Langly's ponytail was seized by Byers, who said, "Ringo, *you're* making us look worse." (Ringo? Is this canon?)

"Yeah, Langly," Frohike added, inches from his face. "If you want to continue living with us--no, strike that--I mean, continue *living*..."

"Hey, man, Scully can take care of herself," Langly protested as he straightened up. "*I* certainly haven't forgotten the shootout at the FPS Corral. You guys have no sense of humor." He released Scully and received a peck from her on both cheeks as mollification.

(Oh those wacky, crazy gunman. What hijinks will they get up to this time? And what a surprise! A mention of FPS! Who'd have guessed?! GAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGG………)

Byers took his place and kissed Scully on the cheek, saying, "I apologize for my colleague, m'lady. What would you have us do with the villain?" (Apparently the author feels not only the need to write in Old English, but the need to have her idea of characters speak in it as well.)

"Make him *type*--" Mulder chimed in, "--not copy and paste: 'I will never again try to kiss Dana Scully,' one thousand times and post it on his favorite newsgroup." (This Mulder seems to be stuck in an episode of "Full House" or some other banal sitcom. Y'know, this may be Bob Saggett playing Mulder.)

"Be glad to," said Frohike with a mild snarl.

"Maybe I'll create a newsgroup dedicated to fed fatales," Langly returned. (Thanks, folks! We'll be here all week! Try the veal!)

"Not with my pictures on it," warned Scully.

"Speaking of pictures, people," Skinner reminded them, nodding toward the photographer and his crew. (And I'm sure the Lone Gunman RUSHED to get their pictures taken. Those Gunman are fools for photo ops. And while we're here, why weren't the rest of the bridal party included in the receiving line, Falconer? With all your focus on pomp and ceremony, why did you miss this tidbit? Oh that's right! It's because YOU AREN'T INTERESTED IN WRITING ABOUT THEM!)

************

GRAND HYATT WASHINGTON (Rental just went up. Mulder must have hit up the Federal Reserve.)

WASHINGTON DC

8:10 PM

By the time they reached the hotel, the photography session and DC traffic had further intensified their hunger pangs. Bustling through the lobby with his bride, Mulder announced, "Good drink, good meat, good God, let's eat!" (My. How original of Mulder. And how likely.)

Scully laughed giddily (as sanity slipped merrily away) . The whole day had been filled with wedding preparations, the ceremony and auxiliary activities, and they'd hardly been able to eat anything. Her energy was running low, but not her spirits, if only because of Mulder's wit. (Scully must really be a push over. That was not a terribly witty thing he just said. )

Entering the Grand Ballroom they were assaulted by flashbulbs and applause, (Good GOD, when did these two get so popular that this unlikely thing would happen? Did someone pay the paparazzi?) augmented by the hotel staff, which seemed assembled in toto. (The author seems to have a penchant for writing in dead and obscure languages. This would be directly from the Latin, "toto" meaning all) Between the wedding party's table and the dance floor was a champagne fountain, huge bouquets, a multi-tiered cake, and an ice sculpture of an angel in the center.

(All right, Gentle Readers. Let's talk hard, cold cash.

The Swiss Witch admits to having too much time on her imported hands. Although surrounded by such Alpine beauty in the Swiss spring, this reviewing witch does suffer from occasional ennui. It's why she picked up her little habit of reading X-Files fanfic in the first place.

However, when she read the lavishness of this wedding, her Swiss fingers itched to get some figures underneath these glorious nuptial accoutrements. So, she made an international phone call to the Grand Hyatt in Washington D.C. and asked for some information and quotes. The lovely people at the Grand Hyatt were glad to accommodate her and sent a lovely packet that outlined rates and packages for weddings. For instance, did you know there are two, count them, *two* ballrooms at the Grad Hyatt? Now, Falconer has not told us which particular ball room room this is, so I've chose to price this for the Constitution, which is the smaller of the two. The Independence is MORE.

For this sort of layout with in-house catering for 150 people, including cake, champagne, huge bouquets of flowers, and that heinous custom ice sculpture, the grand total is well over 20, 000.00 at this particular venue. If you'd like details or a breakdown, I'll be more than happy to provide them.

On a side note, if you'd like to take the virtual tour of the Grand Hyatt in Washington D.C., go to http://www.hyatt.com/usa/washington/hotels/hotel_wasgh.html. Take the tour and imagine what this would cost our favorite federal agents. Especially picture the scene with the paparazzi in the lobby when you see what the lobby is!)

Scully continued to stare (in horror) at the latter as Skinner guided them toward their table.

"Do you like it?" Mulder asked her.

"It's lovely, but is it--an angel, right?" Scully replied. ("I told you Mulder! It should have been an ice sculpture of Satan!")

"It's you, Scully, can't you tell?"

(Heave ho, here we go. Lunch was good. Hate to see it again so soon. HRAAAAAAGGGGGGG)

Scully frowned at his use of her last name, (but not him having her memorialized in ice?) but decided not to make an issue of it now. She went closer to look at it and was stunned to recognize her likeness. It was really her: the hair, the nose and chin and lips. He eyes began watering again. (from the syrupy sweetness of this entire, horrific thing) Mulder came up to put his arms around her, and she asked, "It's amazing, but--is that how I've seemed all these years? An ice princess?" (OH HA HA HA!!! OH HA HA HA HA HA!!! The Swiss Witch wipes tears of pained laughter from her eyes.)

"Not to me. You're an angel, Scully. My guardian angel."

"Your angel's going to melt before the night is over."

"Oooh, I want to see that."

She twisted to look up at him, and applause rattled the ballroom once again as they kissed.

(We've reached that point in this fic where I beg someone to kill me now. So, someone? Kill me now.)

Once they were all seated, Father McCue blessed the wedding feast. And soon their dinners were served. (Why are these two sentences?) Scully cautioned Mulder to limit himself in what he ate. (Mulder being the notorious pig at wedding feasts he was.) He looked at her in disbelief and said, "But, baby, (hurp) this is the time to eat, drink, and be merry--"

"And tonight you'll be too stuffed or drunk to do anything but sleep."

"I doubt *that*."

"Listen to her, Mulder," Skinner said. "She and I have both experienced these sorts of banquets. (Is Mulder from some kind of subculture that never goes to weddings? Since when is Mulder a glutton? And when did Skinner become his father?) You can indulge, but not too much. You won't enjoy yourself later."

"But-- But look at all this food!" Mulder protested, spreading his hands at his place and the guests eating heartily.

"Look at *me*," Scully told him. "Do you want to have room for dessert or not?" (Welcome to marriage. Starve, motherfucker starve.)

Mulder stared at her, then looked at his plate loaded with enough to feed them both on an average evening out, then at the guests, then at Skinner, then at Scully, and finally at his plate. (Whew. All that looking was exhausting.) He puffed out his cheeks with a sigh and said, "Guess you can't have your cake to look at and eat it too."

"Depends on the cake," she purred. (This Scully is a bitch! She may like them hungry, but she'll have no one else to blame when he passes out on the dance floor later.)

A hour later it was over, except for the wedding cake and coffee. As Mulder and she got up to go to cut the piled confectionary masterpiece, Skinner tapped his champagne glass for attention.

(Oh no. No. Not a Skinner toast. Please? Someone? KILL ME NOW?!)

"Seven years ago, when I was put in charge of these two agents, I didn't know what to expect. They each had reputations that preceded them, but I thought my job was more or less going to be babysitting. How wrong I was. The kind of assignments they investigate--the paranormal, cases so bizarre that most FBI agents haven't a clue as to how to handle them--are not often resolved to the Bureau's satisfaction, or even their own, but they never shy away from them, however dangerous or merely embarassing (it's embarrassing to misspell embarrassing) . Their dedication toward finding the truth has raised the bar in the Bureau, even if unofficially."

(Oh thank GOD that load of shit is over with. Like he would EVER say anything that stupid as to what kind of cases they investigate.

Oh wait. I just read ahead. He's still talking. Falconer, when a person continues talking, we don't close the quotes until their done. The next paragraph will still have beginning quotes, but the one preceding it won't. It's the laws of punctuation, honey. Really. Look it up.)

"Still, it is their loyalty to each other that has become legend, (In what universe?) and is the reason we are here tonight. Their loyalty has gone so deep it became something more, something so rare because of its strength and purity that I think it was destined to grow into love. (Who are you? Where is A.D. Skinner? Is this Krycek in a mask? ) It took me a while to see it, and it took them a while to admit it. But here we are, and now it's official. I am (not Walter Skinner and this is not my beautiful house) ...very happy for them...and proud to be here as they dedicate themselves to each other. To Fox and Dana!"

(FOX and Dana? Chris Carter is right. The sheer fact that those names sound so inhumanely stupid together is reason enough alone for these two to NEVER get romantically involved.)

Scully blushed, as all raised their glasses in the toast. "To Fox and Dana!" they echoed. (Sounds just as bad a second time.)

"I guess we'd better cut the cake then," Mulder said. "Why is there never a saber around when you need one?"

"Because you don't need one," said Scully. "I wouldn't want you to act like John Belushi as that samurai he played on _Saturday Night Live_."

(WHAT?! Never mind the terrible sentence structure, what the hell is Bizzaro Scully talking about?! Mulder asking for weapons is the only thing that vaguely makes sense. Hopefully he'll use them to cut his way out of this tangled piece of hooey.)

"Never crossed my mind! You'd be more adept at cutting the cake anyway."

"You have to help. It's tradition."

"Well, if you insist, Doctor. I'll hold, you guide."

Together they sliced into the cake and lifted out a piece on a spatula. Mulder first fed it to Scully, (then to his lover, Walter Skinner) quipping, "You know you're beautiful when you're hungry."

(Dear God. That's all there is to say. )

Scully choked and blushed rose-pink again as she tried to keep from sputtering laughter and cake over Mulder. (I hope the laughter didn't stain his yummy, nummy ice-cream popsicle candy perfume suit!)

"Oh, baby, (yarp) I'm sorry," he said, holding a glass of champagne to her lips to wash it down.

She swallowed several gulps and finally managed, "If we weren't in front of everybody..." Then she kissed him passionately. She fed him her tongue, from which he sucked the frosting. (Not only is this sentence vomit inducing, it's poorly constructed. "From which he sucked"? "Fed him her tongue"? If she actually did that, not only would she have trouble speaking for the rest of her life, the guests would run free in horror.) If it weren't for the spatula she was holding, she would have grabbed him then and there to hug him tight. (Cleave him with your mighty spatula, Scully!) Whoops and whistles as their kiss lengthened brought her back to reality, however, and she reluctantly squirmed free.

"Say 'ah,' Mr. Mulder," she ordered, and when he opened his mouth wider, she put the end of the spatula in it and slid off the rest of the cake with her fingers.

Applause broke out, but Mulder captured her hand and quickly licked her fingers clean.

"Fox! You're embarassing me--us!" (You just frenched him, Bizarro Control Bitch Spatula Wielding Scully. Like that wasn't an embarrassment?)

"I'm not embarassed. Why should you be?" Then he shouted, "This is fantastic, folks! You really ought to try it! The cake, I mean!"

(These people seem to be having a really licentious and happy time at their wedding. I wonder what Mulder and Scully are doing?)

Laughter erupted, and Scully said, "Well, if you're determined to make a spectacle of yourself, come with me." Scully said, towing him onto the dance floor. She nodded at Langly, now seated behind his own audio system in a corner of the ballroom. (Of course Langly is DJ. Of course he is.)

"Ladies and gentlemen," Langly announced, "first up tonight for the happy couple is Mariah Carey's 'Vision of Love.'" (Oh. No.) Just as her new hubby chose their wedding music, (Mulder has the musical taste of a 14 year old girl in this fic. Sissy man.) she's picked this one for their first dance together--to let him know just how she feels. Sing it, Mariah, baby!" (It is highly doubtful Scully is a Mariah Carey fan and would have Casey, uh Langly, send this one out to the man she loves.

The only way this could be worse is if lyrics were quoted again.)

Carey's ethereal but sultry blues filled the room, and the bride and groom embraced. Slowly they rocked from side to side, turning around in the center of the floor as the world shrank to only themselves and the pop diva's voice.

Mulder bent his head low and whispered to her, "I hardly ever thought myself worthy of you, Scully. But if this is how you really feel about me...I'm beginning to, and I'll do my damnedest to measure up to what you want."

Scully kissed him and said, "Fox...darling, you will *never* have to 'measure up' to what I want. You are what I want. Now, just as you are. If I could sing a tenth as well as Mariah Carey, I would be singing this song myself, but you know I don't dare try. All I can ask is that you try to imagine it's me singing this for you."

"That's not hard at all with you in my arms. I love you so much, Scully."

"Dana."

"Scully," he chuckled.

"*Fox*."

"Scully-Mulder."

"Foxy-woxy."

"You wouldn't!"

"Wouldn't I? Don't tempt me."

"Can't we negotiate--"

"No."

(All right. I was wrong, very wrong. This last development was much, much worse than the actual lyrics to "Vision of Love". The Swiss Witch will now attempt penance for actually tempting the gods by saying there couldn't be anything worse than a Mariah Carey song. So, she has [HACK SPEW] traversed the internet and found said lyrics, in toto, and will now reprint them in an effort to block those last 186 words from her consciousness forever.

Treated me kind
Sweet destiny
Carried me through desperation
To the one that was waiting for me
It took so long
Still I believed
Somehow the one that I needed
Would find me eventually

I had a vision of love
And it was all that you've given to me

Prayed through the nights
Felt so alone
Suffered through alienation
Carried the weight on my own
Had to be strong
So I believed
And now I know I've succeeded
In finding the place I conceived

I had a vision of love
And it was all that you've given to me
I had a vision of love
And it was all that you've given me

I've realized a dream
And I visualized
The love that came to be
Feel so alive
I'm so thankful that I've received
The answer that heaven has sent down to me

You treated me kind
Sweet destiny
And I'll be eternally grateful
Holding you so close to me
Prayed through the nights
So faithfully
Knowing the one that I needed
Would find me eventually

I had a vision of love
And it was all that you've given to me
I had a vision of love
And it was all that you turned out to be

It burned a great deal, but the forgetfulness is bliss.)

Mulder sighed, but Scully knew he was considering his next move. She said, "You'll learn to like me calling you by your first name, Fox. (However, all of us will despise it until you die.) I promise. You?"

Mulder remained silent, his eyes closed as if trying to escape into Carey's dulcet warbling. (Key phrase here: "TRYING TO ESCAPE".)

"Fox? Foooooooox?" Scully's only honeyed alto (She had left her other voice at home for the evening.) came through. "Fooooxxxx...you promise?" (Don't back down, Mulder! Stick to your guns! This isn't Scully. It's some bizarre Scully clone. Make her call you Mulder.)

"Oh God. Yes! Okay, I promise!" Mulder capitulated. (Pussy.)

Suddenly they realized the song was finished, and from the stares apparently everyone had heard him (promise away his last shreds of dignity. Pussy.). Scully just grinned up at him and said, "Well, they all heard you promise me."

"They don't know what I promised."

"No, they don't. Do they?"

Mulder managed a wry grin. "Would you mind sitting out the next few? I'm feeling a little whipped right now."

(He should have eaten something. I told you, Scully, you bitch.)

------------------

End of Part 1 of 3

******************************************************************

GIVING CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE: Though I believe that the short

quotations from the songs included in this story constitute "Fair Use"

under applicable US Copyright Laws, I think these wonderful writers

and recording artists deserve recognition.

"Vision of Love." Written by Mariah Carey and Ben Margulies. Produced

"I Knew I Loved You." Written by Darren Hayes and Daniel Jones.

(This only proves Falconer can do some sort of research. Because of this, I shall not be merciful in this next part. Stay tuned, Gentle Readers. Clean fetish sex is about to begin.

Grab some of this expensive buffet food and a glass of cheap champagne as we go next week to PART 2.

By the way, our grand total to date for nuptials and reception: $29,850.00. Can I get an "AMEN?")

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