From: theidiosyncraticstanwyck@yahoo.com   
      
   Title: Spectrum   
   Author: the idiosyncratic stanwyck   
   Email: theidiosyncraticstanwyck@yahoo.com   
   Category/Keywords: AU, MSR, A (not too much)   
   Rating: PG-13; R or NC-17 sections will be marked   
   Summary: A woman meets a man who opens her eyes to a vast,   
   unexpected spectrum of beautiful, terrifying possibilities.   
      
   Chapter Three: Under the Pink   
      
   "You could be my flamingo - 'cause pink is the new kinda   
   lingo - pink like a deco umbrella - it's kink, but you   
   don't ever tell her." - Aerosmith   
      
   **   
      
   Despite the rude gestures and angry curses of the harassed   
   workaholic commuters, diners and theatre-goers Dana had to   
   compete with while wending her way into the heart of D.C.,   
   she didn't realize exactly how fast she'd been driving   
   until she reached the restaurant fifteen minutes ahead of   
   schedule. Hyped up on nerves and the residual effects of   
   the five cigarettes she'd smoked in the car, she reclined   
   in the butter-soft leather booth and tried to relax.   
      
   Without the cigarettes she knew she would've been clawing   
   her way out of her skin by this point; unfortunately, she   
   now smelled like an ashtray. Scully sniffed the air   
   experimentally. Good. Perhaps Mulder would be perceptive   
   enough to understand the strictly platonic message she   
   wanted to send and they could avoid a potentially   
   embarrassing heart-to-heart.   
      
   From her vantage point, Dana watched the smiling hostess   
   direct Mulder toward her. She slid to the edge of the booth   
   and arranged herself with as much nonchalance as possible,   
   notwithstanding the tingling in her fingertips. Christ, in   
   camel-colored slacks, a dusky blue sweater that clung to   
   his torso like a preteen groupie at an Nsync concert, and a   
   chocolate corduroy blazer, he looked good enough to eat.   
      
   He smiled, a dimple appearing in his chin, as he slid in   
   beside her - close, but not too close, he hoped. "Am I   
   late?"   
      
   "No, I was early." She leaned forward, nervously sipping   
   her ice water.   
      
   His elbow brushed her upper arm. "Thank you for coming," he   
   said, and belatedly realized he sounded like an aggrieved   
   relative at the funeral of a loved one. Scully smiled   
   slightly and studied the candle flickering at the center of   
   the table.   
      
   Mulder searched the elegantly appointed restaurant for some   
   sign of a reprieve. His hormones jumped up and down, their   
   fourteen-year-old voices cracking as they shrieked, "Girl!   
   Girl! Pretty girl!" Even as his higher brain recognized the   
   agony of discomfort he and Dana were currently inflicting   
   upon one another, he had to agree. She was a vision in a   
   long ivory blazer and matching blouse, a chunky gold   
   pendant dangling between her breasts.   
      
   At a loss, he reached for a menu. "Have you ever had the   
   duck? They have a duck thing with ginger sauce that's   
   really, uh, phenomenal. Do you like duck?"   
      
   She licked her lips. "I like duck," she allowed, the same   
   muscles twitching into a tiny, nervous smile.   
      
   "It's enough for two, if you'd like to share."   
      
   "I like to share," she responded inanely, and blushed a   
   furious crimson that delighted Mulder and eased a measure   
   of his tension.   
      
   He flagged down the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine,   
   telling his dinner companion, "I think we could both use a   
   drink, don't you?"   
      
   "I think we did fine last weekend at the Library of   
   Congress," she argued.   
      
   He raised his eyebrows as the waiter poured a California   
   pinot into their glasses. "Ah, yes, but champagne was   
   consumed, and that was business."   
      
   The wine pleasantly coated the roof of Dana's mouth and   
   kindled a welcome warmth on its journey to her empty   
   stomach, and she leaned back, crossing her legs. "And this   
   is not business, is it, Mr. Mulder?" she bantered.   
      
   The cock of his head implied an intimacy that made her   
   bounce one foot energetically. "I certainly hope not, Ms.   
   Scully," he returned. "You got my name, rank and serial   
   number when I signed your contract, but all I know about   
   you I've learned from Melvin."   
      
   She laughed out loud, a wonderful, deep belly laugh, and   
   the sound of it made his toes curl. "Oh, God. Well, we must   
   reconcile that, mustn't we? What would you like to know?   
   Keeping in mind, of course, that a lady should never reveal   
   too much. - But let's order first. I'm starving." As she   
   spoke the words, Dana was surprised to find that they were   
   true. Her anxiety had nearly evaporated and hunger had   
   rapidly rushed in to fill the available space.   
      
   They ordered the duck, with a side of pork dumplings in   
   plum sauce, and she tried to teach him how properly to use   
   the lacquered chopsticks resting beside their plates. His   
   large, untutored fingers skittered clumsily along the   
   length of the utensils until her precise, cool hand covered   
   his. "Like this," she instructed, her genuine mirth warming   
   his cold toes.   
      
   With her instruction he managed to successfully spear a   
   dumpling and transport it to his mouth. "Are you an   
   expert?" he asked.   
      
   She chuckled. "I'm good with my hands," she offered   
   suggestively, then immediately drew back. He sensed the   
   veil that had suddenly descended between them, muting their   
   camaraderie.   
      
   The dinner stretched out over the mound of crispy duckling   
   between them. "So far," he said, "I know that you're some   
   kind of PR sorceress, have been known to consort with   
   unsavory conspiracy theory types, and are an unabashed   
   science nerd masquerading as a beautiful woman." Mulder   
   ticked the items in his inventory off on his fingers.   
      
   Around a dainty mouthful of rice noodles Scully remarked,   
   "You're keeping track."   
      
   "A writer has to be observant." He spooned hot mustard onto   
   his plate. "So?"   
      
   "So what?"   
      
   "Tell me more."   
      
   "What else is there to know?" Dana questioned evasively.   
      
   "How long have you been consulting?"   
      
   She was secretly relieved by the relatively impersonal   
   nature of his question. "Five years. John and I got the   
   idea together and worked to make it happen, and along the   
   way we picked up Langly."   
      
   "You and John have known each other for a long time, then?"   
      
   "Since we were kids, yeah. Like I told you the other day,   
   he's been the best friend I could ask for. I was, ah, sick   
   for a while a few years ago. It was a dark time, and he was   
   right there with me through it all. He's a special man."   
   The waiter returned to refill their water glasses,   
      
   interrupting them momentarily. When he had gone, Mulder   
   leaned forward confidentially. "Dana -" His voice had a   
   serious edge to it, and she regarded him warily. "I don't   
   think I've made my attraction to you a secret."   
      
   She watched the ice cubes settle in her water glass before   
   looking back at him. "No, you haven't, and I respect that.   
   I don't want to give you the wrong idea. I like you,   
   Mulder. I like you very much." She hesitated, and when she   
   continued her tone was marked by a striking mingling of the   
   plaintive and the resigned. "But I'm not interested in a   
   romantic relationship with you or anyone else at this   
   point. That's something that I just do not need in my   
   life."   
      
   His gaze didn't waver, and his immediate response, Dana   
   would reflect later, won him a friend. "And I respect   
   that."   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)