From ccbailey@facstaff.wisc.edu Tue Oct 22 20:30:34 1996
Summary:  Scully shops for a Halloween costume.

OK, I love the Mask Challenge, but I'm tired of stories where Scully is in a
long, frilly, feminine, tight-bodiced dress.  Here we go....

Rated GG for Go Girl!  Disclaimer, not mine, yadda yadda yadda.

If the Mask Fits, Wear It 
Part 1/1
by Colleen C. Bailey

********
The costume store was strangely quiet, considering Halloween was only a week
away.  The bell tinkled mournfully as Scully pushed the door open.  Once
inside, she stopped, dismayed.  

The place looked like the governor should show up and plead for Federal aid.
The walls were stripped nearly bare, and the clothing racks were metal
skeletons along the back walls.  Even the light fixtures looked naked.

"May I help you?"  A bleary-eyed young woman walked from behind the
curtain-covered back room.  Her head was half-shaved, and a dragon tattoo
showed darkly against the pale skin of her exposed skull.  Her eyes were
dark pits, her nailpolish green, and her eyebrow pierced.  She was dressed
in black jeans, combat boots, and a Ghengis Khan World Tour T-shirt.  Scully
gazed at her with something akin to fear.  If this was an employee, what
were the costumes like?

"I'm....well, I've accepted a late invitation to a party, and I'm looking
for a costume."  She noticed with some amusement that the woman was staring
at her with the same expression she assumed her own face showed.  She
glanced down at her double-breasted red suit, matching skirt and shoes,
camel-hair coat, tidy hair-do, tiny gold-knot earrings and flawless makeup.
I'm probably as frightening to her as she is to me, she thought.

The woman broke off from staring at her and attended to business.  "We don't
have much left...."  She gestured limply at the barren shop.  "My name's
Ellen, and I can pretty much count off on one hand what we've got left...in
your size," she amended, drawing nearer and grinning down at the diminutive
agent.

Scully twisted her lips into a chagrined smile.  "Well, Ellen, I'm Agent
Dana Scully, FBI, and this is the fifth shop I've been to, and you're the
first to say you have *anything* in stock.  I'd love to see what you have.
Full coverage," she warned, and Ellen grinned again.

*********
Scully's eyes widened, and she gazed down in amazement at the elaborate
dress she was wearing.  Stepping neatly out of the dressing room, she caught
her reflection in the three-panel dressing mirror and gasped.

The long gown was ruffled, and pink, and decorated in tiny ribbon bows and
beadwork.  The full petticoat fluffed the skirt out around her, and peeked
its lace edging out from under the elaborate overskirt.

The half-mask was white and pink and rose, and had soft trailing feathers at
one side, a long handle at the other, and was painted with glitter and
swans.  It was the picture of femininity.

And the gown....  The bodice had been laced tightly along her spine with
Ellen's muscular help, and held her ribs in satin bondage.  Her breasts
swelled out above the low-cut neckline like two sleeping doves, and her gold
cross rested gently at the point where her collarbones met above the bloom
of cleavage she hadn't realized she had.  Sleeveless, the cream-colored
satin accentuated the red of her hair, and the tiny freckles along her
shoulders cried out to be kissed by strangers.

Scully turned once, twice, observing herself in the mirror from all angles.
She stood for a moment, stunned, then turned to Ellen, standing in the doorway.

"You have GOT to be KIDDING!"  Disgusted, she reached up behind herself and
tugged at the lacing tied in a bow at her waist.  "Get this thing off me
before I need insulin therapy.  There is no way in HELL!" she cried, as the
knot gave way and she could finally breathe again, "that I would wear this
thing ANYWHERE!"  She continued stripping, not caring if Ellen saw or not.
"How the hell would I *run* in something like that?  Where would I hide my
weapon?  No," she continued as she stripped down to bra and panties, "you've
got to have something else."

Ellen hid a smile behind her hand and pretended to ponder.  Then she stopped
pretending as she ran through a mental inventory of what was left in the
store.  "I'm sorry," she sighed.  "There just aren't many popular role
models for women who are strong, independent AND fully-clothed."  She
scratched the crew-cut side of her head for a moment, while Scully gazed at
her pleadingly.  Then, her eyes lit up. 

*********
"Perfect."  Ellen lurked behind her, grinning like a fox in a henhouse.

Scully stood before the mirror again, smiling beneath a simple black domino
mask.  

The woman in the mirror smiled back.  She was wearing a black jump-suit,
zippered up the front.  Black stack-heeled leather boots were slim enough to
be feminine, sturdy enough to withstand any punishment.  The racing stripes
up the legs accentuated the rakish style of the cropped leather jacket she
wore to cover the skin-tight top.  The hip-slung belt looked perfect when
she slung her thumbs in it, and she could attach a holster to the back where
the jacket would cover it.

"Wear thick socks, and the boots will fit even better.  I'm amazed they *do*
fit you - we've had them for years, even kids have a hard time with them
being so narrow.  And here," Ellen pushed a box into her hand.  "Wash your
hair the day of the party, let this soak in for 20 minutes - and DON'T get
it on anything else! - and it'll be coal-black.  Next time you wash your
hair, use vinegar and it'll come right out."  She stood back and sighed,
eyeing the agent enviously.  "You know, I always wanted to be Emma Peel."

Scully looked at her askance.  "Aren't you a little young to have seen that
show?"

Ellen shook her head.  "My mom was a real 'libber.  We would watch The
Avengers, Police Woman, Wonder Woman, Charlie's Angels," she stopped as
Scully scoffed.  "Hey, there weren't many shows that had women actually
*doing* things, getting to have jobs, and carry guns, and all that stuff.
Charlie's Angels may have been fluff, but at least it was WOMEN out there
fighting crime."  

She smiled shyly.  "You're lucky, Agent Scully, you get to live what most
women only dream of.  You should be proud.  Maybe someday someone will see
what you've done, and be inspired to get out there and be *more* than a
secretary or waitress.  To be the doctor, not the nurse.  To be the
policewoman, not the dispatcher.  To be the lawyer, not the paralegal.  To
be the President, not the First Lady."

Scully looked at herself in the mirror again, thoughtful, then smiled softly
at Ellen.  "Maybe."

END If the Mask Fits, Wear It  Part 1/1

*********
OK, my soapbox got a little obvious at the end there.  As I mention in an
earlier message, my muse doesn't work on command; this started out VERY
different, and ended even more so.  But I like it.

HEY!  I'm not intending to insult anyone's stories so far.  Frankly, I've
liked watching the different angles people bring, and there have been a lot
of stories with Scully at a party in a fabbo dress.  No problem.  I just
wanted to accentuate - a different side of Scully.

HEY!  HEY!  I'm also not trying to insult any secretaries, waitresses,
nurses, dispatchers, paralegals, or First Ladies out there.  I've done the
first two, and they are honorable professions.  I'm just...well, doing the
soapbox thing.  I have a 15-year-old sister who's going to be an astronaut,
and even today, in the 90's, she gets laughed at and told to have more
"realistic" goals.  Bah.  
Colleen C. Bailey
"You can't aim to kill when you're laughing"
ccbailey@facstaff.wisc.edu