Title: The Muses: Urania
Rating: R sexual situations; slight nudity; no violence
Archive: Yes, please.
Feedback: Yes! Please!
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are owned by
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television
Network, etc. They are wonderfully brought to
life by David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson.
I will make no profit from this, and neither will
Fox if they sue me, for I am poor and have
nothing material they can profit from.
Summary: Part of a nine part anthology based on
the Greek Muses and the artistic field each represents.
Urania is Astronomy.
She sat in the car with her partner, each lost in their
own thoughts, staring up into the August sky. The
softly scented air wafted through the open windows
and she felt strangely high on the heat, the dark, the
light aroma of wildflowers.
There'd been a tension between them for some time
and she knew it had to end. She'd let him persuade
her to come sit in a car, on a dark, deserted dirt road,
and spend the entire night waiting for UFOs. She
smiled to herself in the inky blackness of the night.
It hadn't been all that hard for him to convince her.
She'd given mock resistance, because he expected her
to, but really, she didn't mind.
And it was beautiful out here -- quiet and peaceful.
The night sky was a work of art. The dome of darkness
above them was devoid of clouds, the stars glowing
uninhibited, as if the hand of God Himself had scattered
diamonds across the velvet fabric of the night.
She sighed quietly, a sigh of contentment, and when
he turned to look at her, she smiled, then opened the
door and stepped out into the warm night air. The
summer breeze teased loose tendrils of her hair and
she reached up to push them back from her face, but
he was suddenly before her, appearing out of the
darkness like some mythic creature. She froze as he
gently tucked the strands behind her ear, his hand
lingering on her cheek for a long moment.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a minute she
thought he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes,
her body tingling with anticipation, but he dropped his
hand and turned, looking up into the sky again. Oddly
disappointed, and not quite comfortable with her reaction,
she lifted her arms high over her head. Her back popped
slightly as she leaned back into a deeper stretch, arms
reaching behind her. "So. Do you still expect to see
anything?" she asked, trying to suppress a yawn.
She glanced at her watch. Almost 3:30 in the morning.
She watched as he shrugged, lithe muscles rippling
beneath the black T-shirt he wore, and that strangely
drunken sensation washed over her again. She pulled
her eyes away from his torso, and gazed up into the night.
"These dark skies are incredible," she said, and saw
the nod he gave in answer. "Just beautiful." Her gaze
was fixed on Perseus, watching the streaks of light he
wept every few minutes.
He glanced at her, then lifted his head to follow her
line of sight. "The Perseids are in full bloom." Another
golden streak emerged as he finished the sentence. "It's
Zeus, you know."
She was startled by his non sequitur. She turned more
fully to look at him. "Zeus? I thought it was Perseus."
"It is," he replied. "Well, the constellation is. Perseus
the warrior. Perseus the hero. But the meteors are Zeus."
He stepped back, leaning against the car, and she followed.
"Perseus is Zeus's son. Even his name -- per Zeus --
identifies his lineage."
She smiled in the darkness. He was in the mood to
tell stories. Perseus -- a warrior son of a powerful
father. An apt story for Mulder to tell. His own name
yielded his lineage as well. An age-old custom still in
use as fathers sought to brand their sons and shape
them in their own image. She leaned against the car
as well, and was surprised by her own pleasure as he
companionably draped one arm across her shoulder.
When she made no move to pull away, he settled her
a bit closer and her head fell naturally into the hollow
of his shoulder.
"Zeus fell in love with Danae, the beautiful daughter
of Acrisius, king of Argos. An oracle had predicted that
Danae would someday bear a son who would kill the king,
so Acrisius hid her in an ivory tower. But Zeus knew of
her beauty, and one day he changed himself into a shower
of gold dust and visited Danae's cell."
He paused then, and she wondered if he was connecting
her to the Danae in his story. Did he see her as hidden
in an ivory tower? Always so prim and proper. Always
so correct, following all the rules. Did he know her tower
kept her safe, and shielded her from the emotions that
oftentimes dizzied her soul?
He was looking at her now, and when she gazed
up at him, he tickled her lightly and teased, "Nice
name -- Danae."
She wriggled at his touch, then smiled again, unseen
in the night, and shifted slightly nearer to him. Perhaps
her tower was not so safe after all.
"When Perseus was born, Acrisius put him and his mother
in a wooden chest and threw it into the sea. The wooden
chest floated to the island of Seriphos, where the fisherman
Dictys rescued it. He took them to his brother Polydectes,
who happened to be the king of Seriphos."
Taken in by a king. As Mulder had been taken in by
powerful people as well. The unseen forces that had shaped
his life, those that still helped him, and those that worked
against him. But, "How fortunate for Perseus," was all she
said, as she snuggled in a little closer to him, and felt him
tighten his hold on her in response.
He grinned and went on. "Polydectes raised Perseus to
manhood. Perseus went on to found the city-state of
Mycenae, and to become its first king. At least that's
the myth. In reality, the city was founded about 3000 BC,
and between 1650 and 1400 the Mycenaean civilization
was one of the most brilliant in all of Greece, until its
sudden collapse around 1300."
So Perseus created his own city, his own world. She was
quite struck by the comparisons. Mulder, too, had created
his own little world, taking what had been abandoned and
ignored for years, and restoring it to a level of acceptance
and even respectability.
"As for Perseus, he's mostly remembered for killing the
Gorgon Medusa and rescuing Andromeda."
"Medusa," she commented. "I think I remember that one.
Hair of snakes, right?"
He nodded. "Medusa was originally one of three
beautiful sisters but she slept with Poseidon one night.
That wasn't so bad in and of itself, the gods were always
sleeping around, but they did it in Athena's temple and
she didn't look kindly on the sacrilege. Athena changed
Medusa into a hideous monster with huge teeth and
protruding tongue, claws in place of hands, snakes in
place of tresses, large wings, and a look that would turn
anyone into stone."
"Lovely," she murmured. "Sounds like a cross between
your beast woman and the flukeman."
He chuckled, then shocked her when he pulled her forward
and settled her between his legs, his arms encircling her as
she leaned back against him. "Is this OK?" he asked, his
breath hot against her skin.
She felt dizzy. Where was her ivory tower? How could she
stay safe when the very earth itself conspired against her?
The breeze was laden with the scent of summer flowers --
jasmine and lilacs and others still unnamed. She breathed
deeply, filling her lungs with their heady, intoxicating
aroma as she nodded her response to his query. Her bottom
pressed against his groin, she shivered slightly, and he
asked, "Are you cold?"
Cold? How could he think she was cold? The heat of the
night had inflamed her, and her very soul felt on fire.
Not trusting her voice, she shook her head without looking
at him, and missed the speculative gaze he gave her.
"Needless to say, Medusa wasn't terribly popular and her
head became the ultimate prize. Anyone who could chop
it off would be an instant hero. But no one was foolish
enough to try. Until Perseus."
Mulder again. If there was anything deemed impossible,
he would be standing in line -- no, leading the line, to give
it a shot. And he was still seeking his own ultimate prize.
She sighed. "Sorta like someone else I know -- brave
but foolish. Out to succeed where no one else can."
He squeezed her gently and went on. "The thing was,
Polydectes wanted to marry Perseus' mother, the beautiful
Danae, but the king tried to keep his wishes secret by
telling Perseus that he wanted to take someone else as
his wife. Perseus had suspected the king was lusting after
his mom, so he was relieved to hear the king's plans. So
relieved, in fact, he told Polydectes that if he would marry
Hippodaemia, he would do anything asked of him. Even
offer the head of the Gorgon Medusa as a wedding present."
Well, if she was Danae, and Mulder was Perseus, if you
ignored the weird Oedipal stuff, then this was them all
over again. Mulder willing to do anything, no matter how
impossible, no matter what the cost, if he thought it would
save her from some threat. Be it real or imagined, Mulder
would sacrifice everything for her. And, here, in this
magical, mythical moment, she fully realized that, perhaps
for the very first time. Overcome with her newly found
insight, she stepped back slightly, resting her weight more
fully against him, and pulling his arms around her. She
felt him stiffen, then relax, and he hugged her to himself,
and she could feel his arousal, even through the thick jeans
He cleared his throat and shifted slightly, then went on.
"Polydectes saw the opportunity to get rid of the one person
who would object to his marriage to Danae, so he accepted,
agreeing that would be a very nice gift indeed."
"Just what I would want for my wedding," she murmured.
"The head of a monster that turns people to stone."
"I'll have to remember that," he whispered huskily. "I'll
put it with my other options for wedding presents for you."
As he spoke, his breath teased her ear, and she shivered
"You have a list of wedding presents for me?" she asked
teasingly. "What's on it?"
"Well, the contents of the list varies." He was on top of
her now, his height making it possible to bend over her
shoulder, his scratchy cheek brushing gently against her
own soft skin. His voice was deep, a growl against her ear,
laden with promises as he said, "It really depends on who
you marry now, doesn't it?" The breeze whispered again,
fluttering their pant legs, and she shivered once more.
He pulled himself erect, leaning back slightly from her
and she could feel him as he tried to discreetly adjust
himself within the confines of his jeans. He pulled her
back against his chest and she felt his lips graze her hair.
Did he just kiss her?
"Sure you're not cold?" he asked, his hands running
lightly down her bare arms.
"I'm OK," she said. Was that low, husky voice really
hers? What was he doing to her? Could she afford to
play this game of seduction? She leaned back against
him and felt him stir again beneath her. "Go on."
"Athena had been listening; this was the moment she had
been waiting for: someone to strike back at her worst
enemy. Athena brought Perseus to Samos, where the
Gorgons were living, and she showed him an image of
the three, so he could distinguish between the sisters.
Then she warned Perseus to look only at a reflection of
Medusa, never her face, or he would be turned to stone.
She also gave him a bright, shiny shield.
Oh, God. How often had Mulder been used, in just this
way? Sent out to slay the proverbial dragon, with no
concern from the powers over his safety, no care for his
life. How often had he been shown the prize, only to
have to choose, distinguishing between what was real
and what was not? At least Perseus was given a tool to
use -- Mulder was sent unarmed into the fray, his sense
of honor and commitment turned against him as others
continued to manipulate his life.
He sensed her tension, and leaned around to the side to
look into her face. With the tilt of his head and the slight
lift of his brow, he asked without words, 'Are you all right?'
Silent communication. Invisible bonds. Connections that
surpassed what most people would know if they lived a
hundred lives. She smiled to ease his concern, and he
pulled back to stand fully behind her again. She leaned
into him, drawing a deep breath of the summer air -- air
heavy with the scent of flowers, and newly mown hay, of
Mulder's unique scent, and her own arousal. She breathed
again, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, offering
her throat in the ancient gesture of submission and
vulnerability. She could feel her life blood coursing
through her veins as her heart raced. My life for his!
Here I am, take me!
A shadow touch brushed her neck and she lowered her
head, settling back against his chest. Had he kissed
her again? Her blood suddenly grew heated, and she
was flooded with a rush of moisture. She could feel his
erection pressing urgently against her, and knew that
he knew that she felt it.
They stood quietly for some time, as their hearts slowed
and their breathing quieted. What had just happened?
She was confused, aroused, intoxicated, as they both
contemplated the meteors that flowed from the stellar
Perseus. When she was able to speak in a normal tone,
she said, "Not a very popular lady, our Medusa, eh?"
His voice was hoarse, his breathing still uneven, but he
struggled on with the story. "Not hardly. But Perseus
had some more help in his quest for the Gorgon's head.
Hermes gave him a sickle and loaned him his winged
sandals, but the most important things he got for himself:
the helmet that would make him invisible, and the magic
wallet to put the severed head in."
Help on his quest. Deep Throat. Senator Matheson.
The mysterious Mr. X. But for what purpose was the
help offered? His voice pulled her from her reverie
before she could sink into despair.
"To make a rather long story a little shorter..."
"Too late," she interrupted.
"Hey! Do you want to hear this or not?" he asked in
mock indignation, his hands tightening slightly on
her upper arms.
"Sorry." She lifted her own hands and slowly stroked
his fingers until he loosened his grip. His body was
alive beneath her back and she heard the low groan that
escaped his throat as she shifted her weight. "Do go on."
"He managed to steal the helmet and the wallet from the
Stygian Nymphs, who lived in the bowels of the earth.
Then, properly armed and equipped, Perseus set out to kill
"He came across the three Gorgons asleep. Looking at
his shield, he carefully studied each figure, making sure
it was Medusa who would feel the blade of his sickle.
He sliced off her head and threw it into the magic wallet."
His voice rumbled in his chest, the vibrations teasing her
skin beneath the thin cotton blouse she wore. His hands
moved up and down her arms as he talked, then crept
slowly across her belly. Stroke, then squeeze. Stroke,
then squeeze. His body was a comforting, solid bulk
behind her. She closed her eyes and let the sensations
capture her, pulling her along toward -- what? Her eyes
flew open again. What was happening tonight?
"When Medusa died, the winged horse Pegasus instantly
flew out of her body. He had been conceived by Poseidon
in the temple of Athena, but Poseidon had chosen to not
let Pegasus come into the world, in an effort to placate
the goddess. But at Medusa's death, Pegasus was now
Could something beautiful come from death? Perhaps
not real death as in the end of life. But metaphorical
death, symbolic death. Death of childhood. Death of
family. Death of security, and safety, and comfort.
Mulder was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
Not just his body, but his soul, tortured as he was, his
soul was a thing of beauty. True and faithful, loyal and
committed. He lived passionately, he fought passionately,
and when he gave his love, he gave it passionately. She
suspected he would be a passionate lover as well. Still
slightly shocked at the turn her thoughts were taking,
she looked up into the velvet sky and felt the intoxicating
beauty of the night sweeping her away.
She turned in his arms to look at him, her small body
pressed tightly against his larger form. He was staring
silently into the night sky now, lost in his own thoughts.
He gazed down into her eyes, then said quietly, "Pegasus
flew off and eventually ended up living with the Muses."
His voice dropped to a husky whisper as he added, "Nine
beautiful women -- one lucky horse."
She smacked his leg softly and he chuckled. His hand
rose to stroke her cheek, then he turned her again,
pulling her back against his chest once more.
"The Gorgon sisters looked frantically for the killer of
Medusa, but the helmet worn by Perseus rendered him
invisible. Using the winged sandals of Hermes, Perseus
made his escape. Again, to shorten the story considerably,"
he paused, waiting till she turned to look up at him, then
giving her a mischievous smile.
She took the bait, saying, "And, again, too late," as she
grinned up at him.
"As Perseus traveled home, he came across Andromeda,
naked -- " She moved against him and he sighed.
"Mmm, I like that."
He liked that? Naked Andromeda? Or this? She
moved against him again, and this time it was not a
sigh, but a groan her movement elicited.
His hands quickened their pace, as he traced feather light
patterns on her abdomen and she could feel the rush of
heat in the center of her being. She could feel his
hardness behind her, straining, and heard the slight
catch in his voice as she shifted again.
It was so hot. Summer heat, August heat, the night
air warm as it brushed against her inflamed body. How
could one get high on heat?
He swallowed, then cleared his throat and continued.
"Andromeda was naked and chained to a rock as a
sacrifice for a terrible sea-monster. Perseus quickly
made a deal with her parents, Cepheus and Cassiopeia;
for rescuing the maiden he would then win her hand."
The story jolted her from her thoughts of sybaritic
decadence. Was she Andromeda? Chained to a rock
in sacrifice? Waiting for her Perseus to set her free?
Oh, God, why this night? This story? This man? She
deliberately slowed her breathing, forcing her body to
still its almost unconscious movements. He stood
immobile behind her, allowing her to set the pace, make
the rules, define the parameters.
When she was in control again, she teased, "Oh, is that
what happens when you rescue a maiden?" She squeezed
his arm and looked up over her shoulder at him. "Ruby,
Marty, Lauren, to name a few. You should have a harem
"Only one fair maiden I'm interested in," he growled,
his lips again at her ear. His arms circled her waist
possessively and pulled her tight against him.
She lifted her arms to rest over his, smiling into the
darkness, and he went on. She was drunk on this night,
this air, this place, this man.
"After Perseus killed the sea-monster and rescued
Andromeda, Cassiopeia changed her mind about
allowing him to marry her daughter. In the battle
that followed, Perseus had to resort to desperate
measures. He took the head of Medusa out of the
magic wallet and brandished it. Instantly, the
warring parties, including both king and queen,
were turned to stone.
"Hmm," she mused. "I might be able to use that head
after all. The next time you and Bill are together.
Sounds like it ends conflict quite nicely."
"Ouch. Remind me to take that off the list of wedding
presents. You're too tough."
"Don't you forget it, G-man." She suppressed a giggle.
"Then what happened?"
"Well, Perseus took his new bride back to Seriphos, where
a new threat greeted him. His mother had fled to a temple
to avoid marrying Polydectes. Sort of the Greek version of
'Hie thee to a nunnery.' The king was hosting a banquet;
Perseus entered the palace and announced that he had
brought the marriage gift, as promised. He showed
them the Gorgon's head, turning the entire banquet
party to stone."
He paused, holding her tight against his hardness.
He took several deep breaths then his hands resumed
their sensuous travels across her body.
So that was how he saw it ending. Not with acquiring
the ultimate prize, but with saving her. Against all
odds, he would find a way to save her. He had done it
uncountable times already. Moving mountains and
going through walls to find her, save her, bring her back.
To keep her safe. Her eyes filled with tears and she was
glad he couldn't see her face.
"Interestingly enough, the island of Seriphos does contain
a group of boulders which some still believe to be the
petrified remains of the banquet."
She sighed, then risked wiping her eyes briefly as she
commented, "You would know that, wouldn't you?"
He smiled and lowered his head again to speak in her ear.
"I am full of tidbits of arcane lore -- some of it most
fascinating -- and useful."
His mouth was against her ear, his breath teasing her,
his words inflaming her further, and -- God -- was that
his tongue? She wriggled against him, stretching like
a cat, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of air as her
bottom moved against the front of his jeans.
"You still didn't tell me about the meteors," she said.
Her voice was low, rough, as she fought for a semblance
of control. She could feel him struggling for nonchalance
as he pulled his mouth away from her ear and straightened.
"Uhmm, yeah, the meteors. Remember the shower of
gold dust? Well, that's the meteors." His voice dropped
to a deep rumble in his chest. "Zeus, still pining for the
She sighed. "Very nice." His hands were on her arms
again, long, delicate strokes that brought goose-bumps
to the surface. The warm summer night, his breath, hot
against her skin, the solid feel of him behind her, it was
making her high. She twisted out of his embrace, and
she could feel him tense as he fought for self-control, and
let her go.
It may be Zeus that pined for Danae, but it was Perseus
who freed her from her captivity. It was Perseus who
battled monsters and braved the unknown to keep her safe.
It was Perseus who loved her.
She took a few steps away, then twirled madly under
the stars, sliding dizzily to her knees. She laughed,
then looked back at him. He was watching her, his
breathing suddenly uneven again, and his eyes dark
with desire denied.
Star drunk. She laughed again, then looked up, drinking
of the glittering stars, overflowing their velvet bowl. I'm
star drunk. Her head tilted far back and she asked, "Did
you ever count stars when you were a child?"
"It always amazes me how many more there are away
from the city," she said. "These dark skies are incredible."
"UFO phenomenon is associated with remote areas.
Probably not that there's really any more activity out
here than there is in the city, but it's just easier to see."
She rose slowly and turned back to look at him. "Mulder,
don't you ever just look?"
He stared at her, those incredible eyes peering into
her soul. "I think I've forgotten how to just look."
They stood that way for a long moment, unmoving. There
was a ferocious hunger in his eyes and his hands clenched
spasmodically as he fought to hold his place. She turned
her back to him then, unable to confront the naked longing
in his face.
The summer night encompassed her in its dry warmth as
she lifted her arms and twirled again beneath the sky. Only
the occasional chirp of a cricket and the dry rustle of leaves
were brazen enough to break the silence. Even Gaia herself
slept at this mythical time. She let out a giddy laugh, drunk
with the beauty of the night, the magic of the moment.
Was it the overpowering presence of a million shining
stars? The soft fragrance of nature's bouquet floating
on the evening breeze? Was it the warm summer air
running delicate fingers over her sensitive skin? The
teasing touch of a man who filled her days -- and haunted
her nights? She only knew that she felt completely,
utterly -- different.
She began to walk up a slight hill into a flat open field.
Her fingers methodically opened the buttons of her shirt
and she deliberately let it fall behind her as it slid
gracelessly down her bare arms.
"Scully!" he called, his voice drifting up to her. "What
the hell are you doing?"
She ignored him for the moment and reached behind her,
her eyes fixed on the sky. Perseus glowed brightly in the
heavens, casting golden dust down to her, a god's last tears
for his lost love. Not lost! Not lost! I'm here! She opened
her bra and let it fall, forgotten, to the ground, embracing
the warm summer air against her nude skin.
He ran the short distance to her, scooping up her clothes
as he came. "Scully, have you lost your mind?" he asked.
His breathing was ragged now and his voice was rough,
an odd mix of concern, amusement, and barely leashed
She turned to him, her eyes heavy lidded and a slow
smile crept across her face, a smile she'd never shared
with him before. She watched his unbelieving eyes as
they drank greedily of her bare beauty under the diamonds
of the night. "Mulder," she crooned, her voice barely
above a whisper. "Don't you ever just look anymore?"
He swallowed hard, his eyes not quite high enough to
meet her own. "I'm looking now."
She stepped closer, and the breeze lifted wisps of her
hair to tickle his neck and cheek. "Don't just look,"
she whispered slowly, her voice deep and low.
He hesitated, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips,
then tentatively reached out to pull her bare body tight
against him as she let out a deep sigh. Staring deeply
into her eyes, the hunger naked on his face, he slowly
lowered his head and kissed her. She caught his lower
lip, sucking gently, silently urging him to touch her, to
run his hands over her warm skin, to make her his own.
His fingers tripped lightly down her bare arms, then rose
hesitantly to her breasts. She arched beneath his touch,
pushing her chest forward to meet his hands as they gently
brushed the hardened tips of her nipples. She moaned,
then pulled at his shirt, suddenly wanting -- needing -- to
feel his skin against her own. His pupils were wide, his
breath came in tortured gasps. He clung to her like one
who had been lost and has finally been found.
She broke from his exploring touch long enough to tug
his shirt over his head and toss it to the ground.
"Let's count the stars, Mulder," she breathed as they both
sank to their knees before the majesty of the night.
"Let's count the stars."