Dana Katherine Scully hugged her arms against the slight chill in
the ballroom and tapped her foot in time to the Virginia Reel the
band had just begun to play. She felt a sharp pang that no one had
yet asked her to dance that evening, and knowing that it was for an
unfair reason--not many Southern gentlemen wanted to be seen
dancing with an Irish girl--did nothing to lessen the ache inside of
her. She did notice that a few men had braved such ignominy for
the chance to dance with her sister Melissa, who, were it not for her
heritage, would easily be the belle of Charleston. Dana supposed
that if she herself were just a bit prettier, just a bit more vivacious,
that she would also warrant such attention; but the fact was that that
was just not so. Her friend Ellen had assured her that she looked
beautiful this evening, and Dana had to admit she was secretly pleased
with the way her emerald green satin gown cinched her waist and
emphasized her bosom. Her mother had allowed her to wear her
grandmother's gold and emerald necklace and matching earbobs, and
her hair was swept back in the latest style, with tortoise shell combs
holding her tumbling red curls away from her round face. She still felt
she had not completely mastered the art of navigating a hoop skirt,
however; and she supposed for that reason she should be grateful
no gentlemen had asked her to accompany them to the dance floor,
as tripping over her skirt in the middle of the ballroom would do little
to enhance her reputation.

Ellen was suddenly at her side, her cheeks flushed from dancing and
her gold-threaded sky blue gown glittering in the candlelight. "Have
you heard?" she asked breathlessly, waving her ivory fan in front of
her face.

Dana shook her head. "Heard what?"

Ellen lowered her voice conspiratorially to the tone of voice she reserved
for scandals. "Apparently Mr. Skinner has allowed some Yankee soldiers
from Fort Sumter to attend the party. He's actually friends with a
lieutenant! Can you imagine? And no one seems willing to offend Mr.
Skinner by protesting."

"Is it wise of Mr. Skinner to do such a thing, considering the hostility
toward Yankees in Charleston? In all of the South?" Dana wondered.
She prided herself on her knowledge of current events, listening to all
of her father's dinner table arguments and even eavesdropping outside
of his study on occasion. She knew the country was on the brink of war,
and she didn't relish the idea of it starting tonight in Mr. Skinner's ballroom.

"Of course it isn't," Ellen said impatiently. "But isn't it exciting? Oh,
look, there they are! There's four of them!"

Dana studied them curiously. Three of the soldiers were rather nondescript:
one sported a full mustache and beard; the second had unusually long blond
hair and wore spectacles; and the third one was short and rather...toadlike.
The lieutenant, however, was another matter. He was tall, lean, and carried
himself with a certain air of authority, without crossing the line into arrogance.
His soft brown hair fell carelessly against his forehead, and his lips were full
and sensuous. Dana found herself wondering what color the man's eyes
were, and nearly blushed at even entertaining such a silly thought. Yet she
couldn't deny that she felt drawn to him somehow--it was a struggle to look
away from him, to turn her attention back to Ellen and listen to what the
young woman was saying.

"Isn't he handsome?" she was saying, predictably. "I think I heard his
name is Mulder. Lieutenant Mulder."

"Mulder," Dana repeated, trying the name out on her tongue. "Yes, he
is...intriguing, isn't he?" As she watched, the Yankee soldier scanned the
room, the way she would expect an officer to immediately assess his terrain,
when his gaze abruptly fell upon her, meeting her stare directly. She
looked away, embarrassed, heat rising to her cheeks, but not before she
saw his posture stiffen and his mouth open slightly. I've probably offended
him, she thought worriedly, and no wonder: staring at him like an animal
in a zoo. What has happened to my manners?

"Dana!" Ellen hissed, her blond curls bobbing. "He's coming over here!
Whatever shall we do?"

"Just grant him the courtesy you would bestow on any gentleman," Dana
advised, sounding calmer than she felt as she smoothed her skirt in
anticipation.

"Excuse me, ladies." Dana looked up--and up--into the young lieutenant's
face. His eyes, she noticed immediately, were hazel, a wondrous color that
seemed to shift from blue to green in an instant. "I'm sorry to disturb you,"
he said, in a tone of voice that suggested he was anything but, "but a gentleman
informed me that the most beautiful lady here tonight was a woman with
glorious red hair. I believe I have found her."

Dana struggled to compose herself while Ellen didn't even bother to hide
her look of astonishment. "I believe the gentleman of whom you speak
was referring to my sister, Melissa."

"Really?" The corners of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. "Then
surely he must have been mistaken." Those wondrous eyes locked onto
hers in an alien way that made Dana's breath catch in her throat. "But
please, forgive me for not introducing myself. Lt. Fox Mulder, at your
service."

It took a moment for Dana to find her voice. "Dana. Dana Scully. And
this is Ellen Powers," she added, extending her hand to him as Ellen made
a small curtsy beside her.

Lt. Mulder bowed to Ellen, then took Dana's hand and kissed it through
the white glove. "An honor," he murmured.

"You're too kind," she responded weakly.

"Would you do me the additional honor of dancing with me, Miss Dana?"
he asked.

Dana nodded and accompanied him to the dance floor in a daze, dimly
grateful that she at least had enough presence of mind to not trip over her
hoop skirt. The band had segued into a slow waltz, and she forced herself
not to tremble as Lt. Mulder placed one hand on her waist and used the other
to grasp her hand tightly. She rested her free hand on his chest, since she
couldn't comfortably reach his shoulder. The woolen fabric of his navy
uniform was rough to the touch, even through the thin material of her glove.
She didn't much appreciate the fact that she was on eye level with the gold
buttons running down his chest, so she craned her neck up to find him
staring at her, his eyes studying her in a decidedly unsettling manner. But
she could not quite bring herself to look away. "How long have you been
stationed here in South Carolina?" she finally asked, straining for some
sense of normalcy.

"About three months now," he answered, "although I expect to be
transferred soon."

She nodded, absorbing the information. Transferred due to possible
impending war, or to be closer to his family, or... "I suppose Mrs. Mulder
must miss you," she ventured, shocked at her boldness.

He smiled slightly. "Yes, my mother misses me terribly." The smile
widened as he saw understanding surface on Dana's face. "She's the
only Mrs. Mulder who worries for me, I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean to--"

"I know what you meant," he interrupted, but his tone was gentle. "Miss
Dana, I know this will sound crazy, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but
I have the oddest feeling--like I know you already. Like...like I've known
you for a long time."

She tried to think of a witty response, but flirting had never been an easy
skill for her. "I think...I think I feel the same way, Lt. Mulder." His fingers
gripped hers tighter, and she struggled to lighten the topic, knowing that
they were treading on dangerous ground. "You certainly have an interesting
first name," she said, in what she vainly hoped was a light and teasing
fashion.

To her surprise his eyes darkened. "I have never liked it," he said quietly.
"It does not suit me."

Dana thought differently, but knew enough to hold her tongue. She felt a
sadness coming from this man, a deep sadness that had probably been with
him a long time. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to get a handle on where
the sadness originated from. An emptiness...? "You've lost someone you
love, haven't you," she said abruptly, not certain how she knew.

He winced, startled. "How did you...yes. I lost my sister, a long time ago."

"And it still troubles you greatly."

His eyes searched hers boldly. "Yes." He lifted his hand from her waist
to brush a stray red curl from her face. Dana froze as an unfamiliar wave
of desire shot through her and settled somewhere in her abdomen. His
swift intake of breath assured her that she was not alone in her reaction.

"Miss Dana," he said hoarsely, and she suspected his mouth was as dry
as hers, "would you care to join me on the balcony for some fresh air?"

"I'd love to." It never occurred to her to say anything different. He navigated
their path through the press of dancing couples to the magnificent French
doors that led out onto the low balcony. Due to the unusual chill in the air
that night they found themselves pleasantly alone outside.

"Would you like my jacket?" he asked her. "Are you cold?"

She shook her head. "It feels nice," she said truthfully. The cold had never
before felt quite so exhilarating. He stepped closer to her, and she was
surprised her heart didn't burst in her chest, it was beating so unbelievably
fast. "Where are you from, Fox Mulder?" she asked, wanting to know more
than anything in the world at that moment.

He shrugged minutely. "Massachusetts."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow at him and was pleased when he smiled
at the gesture. "I don't think I've ever met someone from so far away."

"It really is like a different world up there," he said thoughtfully. "Our streets
are busier, the people more hurried, and the parties are not quite so...
spectacular."

"I'd love to see it," she said hesitantly, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.
"I've never really been outside of Charleston. It can get quite dull." She
turned away from him to study the familiar view from the balcony, dismayed
to realize that even in the dark she could recognize nearly every carriage in
front of the house. The predictability of it all weighed on her heavily.

"I'd love to show it to you," he whispered beside her ear, and she jumped
at the feel of his breath on her hair. "As for Charleston, as of tonight it has
become a lot more...exciting." He gently turned her around so that she was
facing him once more. "Do you...do you feel that way too?" he asked tentatively. She had the sudden insight that this man had been hurt by women before, and that this openness was very difficult for him.

"Who was she?" she asked, before she could stop the words from tumbling
from her lips.

The question visibly took him aback, but he recovered quickly and took
one of her hands in his. "Someone who apparently did not understand me
in two years the way you have managed to in just one night." His other
hand cupped her chin gently and tilted her face up to him. "And whose
eyes were not such a startling shade of blue."

As his lips moved inexorably closer, Dana tried to pull back, to protest,
but it was as if she was frozen in place, trapped by a witch's spell. His lips
brushed hers delicately and a tingle ran through her.

She had never been kissed before.

And the thought came to her faintly that it was not seemly for her to be
doing so now.

Sensing her tension, Lt. Mulder pulled back. "I'm sorry, Miss Dana.
Please forgive me."

She shook her head, tugged him closer to her. "There is no need for an
apology, Lieutenant." And then his lips were on hers again, harder this time,
more insistent. She reached up to clutch his strong shoulders and kissed
him back, the whole time completely astonished at herself, at this man, at
this night.

When he pulled away the second time they were both breathing hard.
"Dana," he gasped, "how would your father feel about your being courted
by a Yankee?"

She opened her mouth to respond when suddenly the world ended around them.

"WAR!" came a shout from within, and silence fell over the festivities.
"Our troops have just fired on Fort Sumter! Ladies and gentlemen, we
are now at war!"

Mulder cursed softly under his breath as the room erupted in whoops and
cheers. Dana could practically see the color drain from his face. "I have
to get out of here," he said urgently. "My men--my men will be long gone
by now. How can I leave without being seen?"

Dana knew the answer to that question all too well, and for the first time
that night was grateful for familiarity. "Right here. See this tree? It's a
good climbing tree. I used to jump from this balcony into the branches
and then shimmy down when I was a little girl. Got in heaps of trouble
for it, too."

"Dana..." He clasped her hands. "I must...can I write you?"

She nodded. "Will you remember the address?"

"I have an excellent memory," he assured her.

"It's 1121 Dogwood Lane, here in Charleston."

"I'll write as soon as I can," he promised. "Take care of yourself, Dana.
This war...well, war is not nearly as glorious as these gentlemen would
like to believe."

Dana gulped as a new thought struck her. People died in war. "Please
be careful," she said desperately.

"I will. It seems that I suddenly have something to live for." His lips
brushed hers quickly. "We'll meet again, Dana," he said fervently. "I
know we will."

Dana hoped against hope that he was right. "You must go now," she
whispered. "Hurry!"

He touched her face one last time, then jumped gracefully from the balcony
railing to the branches of the gnarled maple tree. She could barely make
out his dark figure as he clambered down the tree and started running
purposefully down the street.

"Dana?" She turned to see Ellen standing there. "Did you hear? We're
at war!" She seemed positively delighted at the prospect.

Dana smiled thinly. "I know."

"That Yankee lieutenant isn't still here, is he? It would surely be dangerous
for him. I saw his fellow officers leave some time back."

Dana shook her head and led the way back into the ballroom, into the crowd
of jubilant gentlemen and ladies, eager for the glory of battle. "He left soon
after they did," she said emotionlessly.

"Well, it certainly is a shame he's a Yankee," Ellen chattered on. "He was
so very handsome."

"Was he? I didn't notice," Dana said absently, and traced her lips with a
gloved finger.

end.