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“Hello, Mulder? Can you hear me? I’m at the hotel. Where are you? What do you mean ‘what hotel,’ Las Vegas. I’m in Las Vegas, aren’t you? You called me. What do you mean you didn’t call me? Oh man, I am gonna kick their asses.”
A knock on the door made Scully pull her cell phone away from her ear.
“Mulder, I’ll call you back. Someone’s at the door.”
She hung up and walked over and opened the door. A bellman stood before her holding a silver tray. On the tray sat a letter and what looked like a hotel keycard.
“Ms. Scully?” he inquired.
“Yes?” She responded, not intending for her response to sound like a question. She was still reeling from the stunt the Gunmen had managed to pull off.
“This is for you.” He held out the tray with the note and the keycard.
She frowned as she reached for the letter and opened it. Inside was a short message in messy cursive:
“A token of appreciation for your assistance these past few days. Enjoy the room upgrade - courtesy of the military industrial complex.
Your obedient servants,
TLG
P.S. Consider our asses kicked.”
She picked up the keycard and examined it. Unlike her white plastic room key, this one was much more ornate: black with Monte Carlo embossed in gold letters.
“May I help you with your bags, Ms. Scully?” The bellman asked.
“Uh, yeah, thanks. Give me just a minute.”
+++++
The bellman opened the door to Penthouse Suite Number 4 and gestured with a white-gloved hand for her to enter. She stepped inside. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she took in the space. It was palatial, the height of luxury: a large sofa and two leather armchairs sat in front of a large, flatscreen television. A vase of two dozen white roses sat in the middle of a marble-topped coffee table. Floor to ceiling windows offered a staggering view of the Strip and the sprawling metropolis of Las Vegas.
“May I show you the bedrooms, Ms. Scully?” the bellhop inquired.
“I’m sorry, did you say bedrooms?”
“Yes, ma’am. This suite has two bedrooms.”
He showed her the rooms. They were spacious; each bedroom had its own bathroom, which dwarfed her previous room several floors below. She chose the bedroom with the king bed and whirlpool tub in the bathroom.
She closed the door as the bellman left and shook her head at the unexpected largesse on the part of the Gunmen.
She punched in Mulder’s number on her phone. “Mulder, it’s me. Listen, uh, I know this is sudden, but how would you feel about coming out here for a few days?”
+++++
Mulder stepped out of the cab in front of the Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino. A bellman took his bags and he made his way inside and over to the wall of elevators. Taking an empty one, he pressed the “P” button at the very top of the column. He glanced down at the room number he’d scribbled on the back of a Chinese takeout menu when Scully had called him earlier that day before catching a flight from Reagan International to Las Vegas: P4.
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. He walked down the hallway, stopping in front of the door that read P4. He raised his hand to knock, but paused at the sound of music coming from behind the door. He put his ear to the door, listening. The unmistakable, sweet warble of Joni Mitchell singing “A Case of You” drifted through to him. Then he heard another voice - also a woman’s - singing along to the chorus. This voice was lower, and off-key, but the sound of it made him smile.
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh, I would still be on my feet
The only other time he’d heard Scully sing was a year ago, when they had spent a long, cold night in the woods of the Florida Panhandle. Then, she had sung reluctantly, at his request. There was something pure and vulnerable in her voice, something he found strongly endearing. Now, as he listened to her crooning along with Joni in the solitude of this Las Vegas penthouse, it occurred to him that perhaps this is what Scully did when she was alone. What else did she do when no one was around - when he wasn’t around? Mulder wanted to stay leaning against the door, to continue eavesdropping on a part of Scully’s life he’d long dreamt of sharing, but in reality could only catch brief snippets.
Finally, he knocked on the door. Both voices suddenly stopped. A few seconds later, he heard the lock turn. The door opened inward, revealing Scully dressed in a white, fluffy robe. In her hand was a half-full champagne flute. But even more surprising to Mulder was the big smile that graced her face as she greeted him. Not since the night they’d swung a bat together under a star-filled sky had she smiled like that. He’d missed that smile.
“Hey! You’re early!” she exclaimed, taking his hand and pulling him inside. Then her arms were around his waist and she was squeezing him in a fierce hug. He wrapped his arms around her terry cloth clad body. She was warm, and her damp hair smelled of jasmine. For the second time in as many minutes, Mulder wanted to stay exactly where he was and experience this newer, more intimate side of his partner.
He felt her suddenly stiffen and she pulled away, her cheeks now flushed crimson. Apparently she hadn’t had enough to drink to make her lose all of her inhibitions.
“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “It’s just… it’s been a weird week. The Gunmen made amends by upgrading my room for a few nights.” She gestured to the open bottle of champagne and a bowl of fresh strawberries. “I guess I felt the need to let loose a bit.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I’m glad you asked me to come.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly in reassurance. “I think we could both use some R and R.”
“Well, how about joining me in a glass of champagne?” she asked.
“I’d thought you’d never ask, Scully.”
She smiled and turned to pour him a glass, giving Mulder a chance to take in the space. It was huge. “The Gunmen must have screwed up royally, if they’re springing for a place like this,” he said as he accepted the flute from her.
“I’m not sure it’s on their dime,” she replied. “But in any case, yes, they really outdid themselves this time. They somehow managed to make me think I was talking to you on the phone. That’s how they got me out here in the first place.”
Mulder chuckled at the audacity of the Gunmen. “You still gonna kick their asses?” he asked.
She smiled and took a long sip of champagne. “I’d say this just about makes up for it.” She paused and looked at Mulder. “Especially now that you’re here.”
He met her gaze and put his glass down on one of the several end tables. He stepped close to her.
“I’m glad you asked me to come,” he said quietly. He gently brushed a strand of damp hair away from her face. He expected her to pull away as before, but instead, she leaned into his hand, allowing him to stroke her cheek with his thumb.
A knock on the door made them both jump. “That’s probably the bellman with my luggage,” Mulder said. He opened the door, took his bags, and handed the bellman a ten dollar bill before closing the door and turning back to her.
“So what’ll it be, Scully? A hot night at the blackjack tables? Take in a floor show?”
“I’d like to have a quiet night in, if that’s all right,” she said. “Maybe order room service.”
“Sure, Scully. I’d like that.”
He looked at her. Her attention wasn’t on him but on the white roses on the coffee table. He watched as she lifted one of the white roses from the vase and up to her face. She closed her eyes as she breathed in its scent. Never before now had Mulder wished he were a flower. She seemed so utterly at ease, so herself, at this moment. It has to be more than the champagne, he thought. Then he realized that perhaps it was the excess - the sheer indulgence - of this place, this city, that allowed Scully to relax and let her hair down. Mulder silently thanked the Gunmen for making such gracious amends.
He downed his champagne in an attempt to fortify himself, then walked over to where a CD player sat on the bar. He pressed play. Joni Mitchell resumed singing about taking in, drinking in, her lover.
He held out his hand to Scully, who - in bare feet and a bathrobe - took it and allowed herself to be embraced by him in a slow dance. They swayed together for the length of the song. As the song ended, and before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned down and kissed her. She tasted like champagne and strawberries. She reciprocated by pressing her lips firmly against his. The thrill of finally kissing the woman he’d longed for for nearly seven years coursed through him like a raging river.
He felt her slowly pull away. “Come on Mulder,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him towards one of the bedrooms.
“Is there a velvet portrait of Elvis in there?” he joked as he followed her down the hall. “Maybe a Magic Fingers bed?”
Scully paused as she opened the bedroom door and glanced over her shoulder. She raised a suggestive eyebrow at him. “I guess you’ll just have to come in and see for yourself,” she said, flashing him a playful smile that got his blood rushing all over again.
Mulder stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Scully, I know you’re aware of Bureau regulations prohibiting the fraternizing of agents in the same hotel room. In fact, I know you know that Tailhook happened in this very city.”
Scully silenced him by pulling him down and kissing him firmly. “And surely you know, Mulder, that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” Without another word, he allowed her to pull him towards the bed.
THE END