From: beduini Date: Fri, 17 Sep 1999 15:54:48 -0700 Subject: NEW: Buena Vista Social Club by Beduini (1/2) Buena Vista Social Club (1/2) By Beduini RATING: What you really want to know is, is there sex? The answer is no. CATEGORY: DAL, UST. Oh, what the Hell...MSR SPOILERS: Cancer arc, FTF, The Beginning, TF/OS, vague Milagro TIMELINE: Probably between Milagro and The Unnatural. Did anybody else feel the emotional jump between these two episodes was jarring? ARCHIVE: KSWDMM, yes, if you want it. All others ask me. DISCLAIMER: If I owned the X Files and its characters, the show would have ended after season three because Mulder and Scully surely would have explored the romantic dynamic of their relationship by then. But I don't own them, Chris Carter does, and he's getting paid big bucks and going on to season seven. I'm writing for free. Hmmf...as if they even read this stuff. SUMMARY: Confrontation and a long-needed conversation. Cuban food. A dance. Two points to anybody who guesses what the title has to do with the story. Notes at the end of part II. X*X*X*X*X Sweet, sweet, sweet, Between the boys and the bees... - Tori Amos If she stared long enough at the face in the mirror it began to look wrong. Like staring too long at a word that you've spelled right but retyped over and over. The spell check says it's right. Webster's says it's right. But somehow, something in your mind tells you it's not right. Wrong. That was how she felt. Wrong. Misshapen. Misaligned. Displaced. Deformed. Forgotten. She couldn't place blame on anyone but herself, of course. She was not an unknowing participant in her life. She was aware of the changes and transformations. Some came faster and harder than others, like a thief who steals into your mind then attempts to steal your heart. Some were like a slow burn, like the cancer that had taken over her blood, then retreated, leaving behind the memory of the pain and the reality of the technology she had willingly placing in her body. She knew there were things she could have done to change. But she couldn't do what she needed to do, to become the person that she once was. The WOMAN she once was, with shining eyes and a bright smile and men who asked her out to dinner. Now the men she knew didn't bother to ask anymore save for the occasional psychopathic murderer, and the one decent man who did take her to dinner, her partner, the one who mattered the most, spoke of conspiracies wrought by the government that employed them. And basketball. And anything that couldn't be categorized or explained by logic or science. It was her own fault, she supposed. She was a woman in the male dominated field of law enforcement and she had to suppress her femininity or at least downplay it in order to be taken seriously. She hadn't realized the possibility that she would miss the attention, or the feel of someone's lips against hers, or his arms as he held her, made love to her. She hadn't wanted to be considered as nothing more than a pretty face. There wasn't much beauty left to that face now to attract anyone to the person left inside, she supposed. Except perhaps the occasional psychopathic murderer. Her eyebrow arched at her own outrageous thought. But that thought was wrong, her partner would tell her if she would only share the thought with him. He was the one whose opinion mattered the most. But she wouldn't share, couldn't share such a thought, and therefore would never five him the chance to say otherwise. She drew a shaky breath and washed her hands, letting the warm water rinse the soap from her fingers. She dried them on a paper towel and threw the towel away, drawing in one more shaky breath. She did not look back into the mirror. The man in the basement office appeared to be relaxed and carefree, but looks were deceiving. Deep inside of his hazel eyes he wore the mark of a man deeply worried, worried about the woman in his life. Not A woman... ...THE woman. Therein lies the difference between concern and all- consuming worry. His education told him the clinical term for it was depression. Not the kind of depression someone suffers because their fish died, but the kind that gradually ate away at your soul like a black hole and took away your smile and your interest in anything and everything. She hid it from him remarkably well. She was always immaculately dressed and groomed, showing up for work early and staying late, always diligent and always ready to provide him with the proof he needed to back up his wildest theories if he needed her to. The black clothing was a clue, he knew. Probably a subconscious choice rather than a conscious one. Or maybe she rationalized it with the explanation that black was slimming. But she was already slim. She was still beautiful, although he'd never her told her that. He'd never told her a lot of things, just as she'd kept things from him over the years. Not life-threatening things, but small, personal things. Things that had a way of seeping out between the cracks of their emotional walls at times of stress, but were never directly addressed. He knew now the depression would not just go away on its own, not after this long. He knew that he was not to blame for it's onset. He had contributed, no doubt, but she certainly had a boatload of reasons, any one of them possibly the thing to push her over the line. Some of them drove her farther beyond the line. The most frightening of all of the possibilities was the thing they couldn't control - the microchip in her neck. Human atrocities can be dealt with, but how does one deal with something that one cannot understand without dissection and removal, effectively destroying it in the process? Once depression descends the victim must either live with it and hope the body balances itself out, or treat it chemically until the body responds on it's own. He'd been through it before himself, back when...well, before she ever came into his life. It had been a mild case, and with treatment it regulated itself within a short amount of time. It was Hell and he couldn't stand the thought that she was going through it, or that she had been carrying it alone inside of her for as long as he suspected she had. If he could take it from her and bear it himself, he would in a heartbeat. But one cannot do such things. So, with trepidation, he decided it was time to approach her about it. To convince her to seek counseling, accept the medication and allow it to bring her back. Back to herself. It frightened him beyond belief to do it. Who knew how the medication would react with the technology that had been placed in her body? And what of counseling? Certainly a counselor would convince her to re- think the choices she made in her life, and establish new patterns. If she had grown unhappy with their work and their partnership in the last months then perhaps she might decide to make a change. A change that might have a profound effect on his own life. The air between them had been heavy, charged with tension and words that had gone unspoken for months, probably as far back as last Summer. She had been transferred to Salt Lake City, and had decided to resign instead. He had confessed a portion of his heart to her, and had attempted a kiss that was interrupted, forever etched in his mind as an event of great importance. They'd barely spoken of his words, and never spoke of the aborted kiss. It was something he still wanted, desperately. But what price would she pay if he refused to give her up? It broke his heart to see the spark fade from her eyes. He missed her smile and most of all he missed the woman who hid beneath the black suits and the rigid professional demeanor. So as she stepped into the office he sat up, his eyes fixed on hers. She raised an eyebrow in question, tilting her head down slightly, her face puzzled. "What?" She asked with curiosity, expecting...well, the unexpected. He took a breath and bit his lip, then dove right into the deep end of the pool. "I'm glad you're here, Scully. There's something I want to discuss with you." The unexpected was exactly what she got, although it was not the usual unexpected that she expected to get from her partner. To her own horror, it was worse. And she put up a valiant fight until he claimed his victory. She would be forced to endure her loss, but salvation usually comes at a price. He had arranged for her to see someone outside of the Bureau out of deference to how it may be viewed in her personnel file. It was a private matter and had nothing whatsoever to do with her job performance. No one except the two of them need know about it. She was improving. The medication had to be adjusted at first when she complained of lightheadedness if she stood too quickly and a buzzing noise in her ears. He couldn't help but grin as she raced around the office, picking up files and offering to take on extra paperwork just to keep herself in time with her metabolism. With the new medication it slowed back to a more manageable pace. One would not know that her physical chemistry levels were being synthetically maintained, except that there was a hint of a spark appearing in her eyes, and she would smile once in a while. She even chuckled at a few of his jokes. She was improving. So when she told him that she would like him to attend one of her sessions with her counselor, his apprehension returned. To have that memory burned into his conscience forever - Scully, with the emotional support of her counselor, telling him that she'd enjoyed the ride, but she was ready to get off now - was the worst possible scenario he could imagine. Second only, perhaps, to the return of her cancer. But she was improving, and that was more important than his fear of losing her. It was a Tuesday afternoon, the sun shining and the climate temperate. They drove to Arlington together, leaving directly from the office. It wasn't hot but Mulder felt the tickle of perspiration on his skin. They hadn't eaten lunch - neither had the stomach for it. He saw it as a very bad sign. He drew in his breath as they pulled up to their destination. Dr. Louise Menases was the name on the plaque next to the door. She'd been recommended by a friend, and when he'd suggested her name to Scully she had accepted his referral without hesitation. Because she trusted his choices, although she did look at the woman's credentials first. The waiting area was cool, with ferns and fresh flowers decorating the tables. There were magazines on a variety of subjects and a water cooler in the corner. Mulder helped himself to three Dixie cup-sized gulps, hoping to ease the dryness in his mouth. Scully watched him but said nothing. The Doctor stepped out of an adjoining office with a smile. "It's good to see you, Dana." She said with a pleasant nod towards Mulder to include him in the greeting. "Please, come in." He followed Scully into the office and she introduced him to the Doctor as her partner. They sat on a comfortable sofa, far enough apart so that they could look at each other easily. The Doctor sat in a chair opposite them. "I understand you have a degree in Psychology from Oxford University, Mr. Mulder, so I won't waste time with lengthy explanations, unless you feel you need them." "It's been a while, Doctor Menases, but if I encounter any unfamiliar terms I'll let you know." Mulder smiled his most charming smile and the Doctor responded accordingly before turning to Scully. "Dana, how have you been feeling? Any lightheadedness? Dizziness?" Scully shook her head. "No, I've felt very little side effect from the Welbutrin since I changed over from the Paxil." The Doctor nodded. "The Paxil is effective for some people, but more and more we're getting reports of increased dizziness and lack of sexual appetite. How about the Elavil?" "I know it's not a sleeping pill, but I've been sleeping so much better since I've been taking it." Scully replied. "It's designed to work as an anti-depressant, but one of the possible side effects is lethargy and drowsiness. That's why I prescribed it for bedtime. Combined with the Paxil or Welbutrin it's quite effective." The Doctor looked down at her notes. "So have you experienced any more nighttime anxiety? Disturbing dreams?" Scully shook her head. "Nothing. I sleep through the night and wake up feeling rested." The Doctor smiled. "Good." She turned to Mulder again. "I imagine you're wondering why we've brought you in here today, Mr. Mulder." Mulder was currently wondering what kind of disturbing dreams Scully had been having. Given their line of work, the possibilities were endless. He sat up straighter and nodded. "The thought has crossed my mind once or twice since Dana mentioned it." At the unfamiliar use of her given name, he nodded his head in her direction, making eye contact with her. He was only doing it for the Doctor's benefit, for between the two of them they preferred surnames. Dr. Menases glanced at Scully before continuing. "As you know, my philosophy is not to engage the patient in long-term treatment such as psychoanalysis or psychotherapy. I'm here to help Dana get past the event or events in her life that have caused her depression so that she can recover and go back to living a full, happy and healthy life." "That's what we all want. How can I help?" Mulder asked, his face eager and a bit apprehensive. "Dana has something to say to you, and she felt you would be more receptive in this environment. All we ask is that you listen to her and allow her to say what she needs to say." She looked over at Scully. "Dana?" Scully had been staring at her hands, a look on concentration on her face as Mulder and the Doctor spoke to each other. When the Doctor addressed her, she looked up, then to Mulder. She saw him swallow and then give her a slight nod. "You know you can always talk to me about anything, Scully." She looked back down a moment. Her surname rolled off his lips so much sweeter than the hard sounds of her given name. "Mulder, when I joined you on the X Files I didn't believe in the paranormal aspect to our cases. I tried to hold your theories up to science, to the standards and practices I'd learned in my training as a medical doctor and a scientist. I believed that nothing could exist without the scientific proof to back it up." She paused, and Mulder gave her a slight but nervous smile. He knew this better than anyone. "I've seen things that couldn't be explained by any scientific method or theory. Things that defied the very laws of physics. Things I still could not believe in, but I believed in you. In your drive and in your passion to...to make a difference. To get to the bottom of it and find the truth." She looked up at him. Mulder nodded. "You've become an important part of that drive, Scully." Although he might be about to get the kiss-off, there was no way he was going to make it easy for her. She drew in a breath, pausing. "I fought against the cancer that was invading my body with the strongest desire to find out the truth behind it. After the cancer went into remission and you suffered your loss of faith I tried harder to find the science to back it up, not only for myself but for you and for your faith. For the sake of the X Files. A job that had become as much my life's work as it was yours." She stopped, drew in another breath and looked over at the Doctor. The Doctor was smiling her encouragement. She turned back to her partner. "When we lost the X Files and were being blamed for the bombing in Dallas I saw no reason to continue. I felt that there was little left to hold my interest in the Bureau after all that I'd seen and done through the X Files. You told me that my science had in fact made a difference." She paused, letting the memory of the highly emotional moment fade. "After we came back from Antarctica I had the proof in me, in the virus I had been infected with and in the vaccine that you administered. I was reinvested, and you found your faith." She took another breath. "But you lost something as well." Mulder's eyes clouded. Lips parting, he looked at her with confusion. "You lost your faith in me, Mulder. After we faced the OPR board and I couldn't confirm that the virus was extraterrestrial in origin. Then after we went to Phoenix, you said as much. You couldn't believe in my science if it went against what you knew to be true." "Scully..." he interrupted, but she held her hand up to stop him. "You showed me your distrust just before El Rico when I presented you with evidence suggesting that Diana Fowley was not what she appeared to be." Mulder stiffened at Fowley's name, his eyes growing harder. Scully saw it, her back stiffening as well. The Doctor noticed their responses and watched her patient carefully, making a note on the file. "Are you saying you think this is all my fault, Scully?" He asked with an edge in his voice. Scully shook her head. "No. No, Mulder, I do not assign blame to anyone or anything for my condition. I did this to myself by the choices that I made, or allowed to be made on my behalf." She paused. "I told myself that you didn't mean what you implied, that you did still need me to validate the work. But I was fooling myself, Mulder. You've been completely honest about your intentions from the beginning. I wasn't able to come up with enough compelling proof to have us reassigned to the X Files. We eventually were reassigned, but only because Jeffrey Spender came to understand what was done to his mother, and he realized that you were the one who had all of the answers." Mulder was silent, glancing briefly over at the Doctor to see how she was responding to the words her patient spoke. Obviously, Scully had related everything to her and the Doctor seemed unaffected. When he spoke, his mouth was dry and his tongue thick. "Do you want out?" end part I Buena Vista Social Club (2/2) By Beduini Disclaimers in part I She sighed and looked at the Doctor. Frankly, the man could be thick as a board. She received an encouraging nod from Dr. Menases. "What I'm saying, Mulder..." she paused once again. "What I'm saying is that I was wrong. I told myself that you still needed me, but deep down I felt as if you didn't. But Mulder, I've put just as much blood and sweat into the X Files as you have, and I'm not leaving." Mulder's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he started to speak but she cut him off. "You may not realize it, but you've been purposely trying to drive me away since Antarctica. You may be a little annoyed that the science couldn't give you the proof you wanted then, and you may really believe that what you see is more credible than what can be tangibly proven. But you're wrong, Mulder. I told you that you cannot refute the science. Without it, we never would have made it this far. You need me, Mulder. More than you need Diana Fowley's so-called protection or your informant of the month." Scully's hand came up to cover her chest and her eyes glittered with passion. "You need ME." He watched her a moment, his mouth hanging open and his eyes blinking once or twice. "Scully..." She held up a hand. "Wait, I'm not finished." His mouth snapped closed with minor irritation and she stood, crossing the room and facing a bookshelf. After a moment, she turned to face him, her arms crossed in front of her. "I have stayed with you, will stay with you, because this is what I want. I love this job. Despite your noble intentions, you cannot protect me from what may or may not happen in the future. My place is with you and this is where I'm staying." Mulder blinked again, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Scully..." She held her pose and raised an eyebrow, preparing for the verbal battle to follow. "...you're right." He stated. "But you're also wrong." She opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her. "I do need your science, and I do believe that there are things that science just isn't able to explain. Not because it isn't explainable, but because it goes beyond what science can prove based on the limited scope of what is known at the present. You've seen that first hand time and again." He paused, looking into her eyes, his voice becoming softer. "And you're very wrong about me trying to push you away. I do need you, Scully. Not just because of the science. Because of who you are. Because you're YOU. Never doubt that." She looked down at her hands with her head bent toward her chest, smiling a Mona Lisa smile. After a moment she looked up at him. He was watching her with a look of passion and commitment. Their eyes met, smiling at each other with unspoken confirmation. The air was clearing. THEY were improving. Mulder suggested a late lunch somewhere nearby before they returned to the office and resumed their professional demeanors. Both realized they were now more than a little hungry after skipping lunch, and working through an emotional barrier had been more than a little draining. Ten minutes later, he pulled the car up to the curb and threw her an amused smirk. "Ever had Cuban food, Scully?" She returned his smirk with a raised eyebrow and opened the car door. The smell of roasted garlic permeated the air and she took a healthy whiff, looking at Mulder in appreciation as he stepped out onto the street. The restaurant was small, with chunky looking tables covered in bright turquoise tablecloths, and chairs with woven straw seats. The back wall was almost entirely made up of glass windows and doors that looked out over a beautiful terracotta paved courtyard with more tables surrounding a circular fountain. There were only two occupied tables as it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. A group of men of various ages sat at one table in the back, speaking in Spanish. They looked very much at home as they laughed and chatted, occasionally taking a drink or a bite of food. At another table one lone man sat reading a newspaper and picking at a plate of food, oblivious to all around him. At the sight of Mulder and Scully one of the diners at the large table wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood, crossing the floor to greet them. He was tall, but not as tall as Mulder, with slick black hair and dark eyes. "Hello." He said pleasantly with a hint of an accent. "Table for two?" "Please." Mulder said and the man grabbed two menus from the hostess station. Mulder stopped him. "That won't be necessary." He said. "We already know what we want." Scully looked up at him with curiosity mixed with surprise, and followed as the man led them to a small table looking out to the courtyard. The man pulled out the chair to allow her to sit, and gestured to Mulder to do the same. When they'd been seated, he looked at Mulder, waiting for the order. "Two Pollo Arrosto dinners with brown rice, plantains and an extra side of garlic sauce." Mulder nearly ordered beer, then realized that Scully wasn't able to ingest alcohol with the medication she was currently taking. "And two diet cokes." "One diet coke and one beer." She said reading his mind and smiling at him. "Go ahead, Mulder. I'll drive if you overindulge." The man nodded and smiled politely, combined with an appreciative gleam in his eye, then left the table and headed into the kitchen. Mulder looked at Scully with a similar gleam in his eye, and she returned the look. "So tell me, Mulder, how did you find this place? One of the Gunmen drag you here to meet with an informant who had secret information on Lee Harvey Oswald?" Mulder grinned. "Ooo, Scully, you're close, but no cigar. Langly likes the food." She let out an amused snort and folded her napkin in her lap. "So we're eating roast chicken?" "Not just roast chicken, Scully. This chicken will make your eyes roll back in your head." "In garlic sauce?" She asked, somewhat dubiously, thinking about spending the rest of the afternoon with garlic breath. "Trust me, it's worth it." His smile widened in understanding and the man returned with a basket of rolls and butter. They both grabbed a roll before the man had a chance to step away from the table and they grinned at each other. The man returned to his table and spoke to the other men in Spanish as he sat down. They all turned and looked at Mulder and Scully, and smiled. Soon, they were standing except for the man who was serving, shaking down pants legs and brushing off crumbs before heading out to the courtyard. Unnoticed before, there was a small bandstand in the corner with a small upright piano, and several instruments sat atop the chairs. Still laughing and talking, the men began picking up the instruments and plunking strings, blowing air through mouthpieces and tapping on piano keys. Mulder and Scully watched them though the window with interest and Mulder grinned at his partner. "Looks like we get the floor show." Scully popped a piece of bread in her mouth and chewed before responding. "Maybe they're just practicing." The men were taking their time, laughing and joking. Within moments a small, round woman with silver-streaked dark hair pulled back into a tight bun brought out two steaming plates of food and sat them down before them. Scully's chest expanded appreciatively at the sight and the smell and Mulder sat up in his chair, scooting in a little closer to the table. He ordered another beer, and they glanced at each other conspiratorially as they dug in. Soon the music started, enfolding them in the melodic sound of trumpet and guitar, the feel of Caribbean rhythm and the smell and taste of roasted garlic and chicken. "Good?" He asked, watching her face contort in ecstasy as she savored the taste on her tongue. "Mmmm. Better than sex." She said with a moan. He raised his eyebrows and his eyes sparked as his lips formed a comeback, but then thought better of it. She knew what he was going to say anyway, and with a spark in her own eyes she took another bite and smiled rather mysteriously. Finally declaring surrender, Mulder dropped a chicken bone to his plate and leaned back, sated. The woman and the man were standing off to the side, watching but not speaking, and the man who had been dining solo had already left, his tip still sitting on the table. The ensemble was playing a slow, heartrending song and Scully was watching them out the window, her elbow resting on the back of her chair and her chin propped on her hand. The music touched something within her, and Mulder watched her, his heart nearly breaking at the forlorn look on her face. It was moments like this when he thought that there couldn't be another person in the world more beautiful than she. She felt his gaze, and after a moment, she turned her head, the melancholy suddenly gone. "What?" He didn't respond, but continued to gaze at her, a warm look of things unspoken glinting in his hazel eyes. "Mulder?" She turned in the seat to face him. In the natural afternoon light filtering in through the window, his features appeared laconic except for his eyes. "Do you ever wonder about how things might have been, Scully?" He asked at last, his voice wearing a faraway tone despite his physical nearness. She pursed her lips without a response. It wasn't a question that he was asking - it was an opening for him to tell her what was really on his mind. She looked at a point somewhere around his chest area, swallowed involuntarily and looked up at his eyes with a similar glow, waiting. The band finished the song, and after a long moment he continued. "Why does it all have to be so damn complicated?" She smiled slightly, the meaning behind his statement generic but knowing him well enough to guess at no less than ten different scenarios about which he could be speaking. Still, from the look in his eyes she thought she had a pretty good idea which one of those scenarios he was referring to. They rarely spoke of personal things, and before she could respond, however, the band started an upbeat number and the little round woman approached Mulder, holding her hands out to him. "Baila, Seor?" She grinned at him, exposing a gold tooth. He glanced over at Scully, who was watching in amusement until the man who had greeted them at the door approached, holding out a hand to her as well. "The band will be offended if you do not dance to at least one song, Seora." He said, simply. She glanced at Mulder, who shrugged and stood, accepting the invitation. She stood as well and they followed the man and woman out into the courtyard. The woman took Mulder's hand and placed it at her waist, then took his other hand and clasped it in hers before resting her other hand on his shoulder. She moved her feet and looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Mirame." Mulder nodded, and began moving as she had instructed, albeit rather stiffly. He stepped on her foot, stopping quickly. "I'm sorry." He apologized with a gasp. The woman grasped his hand tighter and shook it slightly to get his attention, then she tapped out the rhythm against his chest with her fingers, her feet following. "Escuchas." She said, "Sientes el sentimiento de la musica." Scully was in a similar pose with the man, although she was faring much better than Mulder. After a few minutes and the band had segued into another number he got the hang of it, and began to relax into the motion. The tempo was increasing slowly and as they moved more quickly in time, Mulder glanced over at Scully. The man was moving her in circles and she was beaming, her eyes flashing and a soft laugh coming from her lips. The woman was moving faster and faster and his breathing was becoming shorter and shorter, but he kept his eyes on Scully. As the tempo continued to speed up the man began spinning Scully faster and faster across the tiles, until the music halted abruptly and she was standing breathless near the fountain, gasping for air with a smile and a nearly feral gleam in her eyes. Her eyes found his and they looked at each other, breathing heavily and eyes shining from exertion. The band started up again at a much slower pace, and the woman pulled Mulder over to Scully. She grasped Scully's hand and brought it to where her own hand held Mulder's, clasping their hands together before stepping back. "Bailen." She commanded. The woman stepped back, thrust her hands on her hips and waited. They looked at each other, a bit startled and more than a little awkward, then Mulder placed his hand on her waist tentatively, and her hand came up to his shoulder as it had with the other man. Slowly they started to move, feeling the rhythm and something else that definitely hadn't been there with the other partners. She looked up at him to see him grinning at her, his face tilted down to her and his eyes dark. The corner of her mouth turned up as she gazed back at him. "You smell like garlic." She said, teasing. His hand tightened around her waist and he pulled her just a little closer. "So do you." The man and the woman were dancing together nearby. Two young, dark- haired men wearing aprons had wandered out of the kitchen, leaning against the doorway and watching the couples dance. Scully touched her temple to Mulder's cheek and as they moved to the music they sank into each other until their lower bodies pressed together, both of his arms around her waist and both of her arms around his neck. It felt right to be in someone's arms, especially in the arms of the somebody that matters the most. Warmth enveloped them and the song blended into another, then another. Some time later Mulder spoke, his voice soft but not quite a whisper, ruffling her hair with his words. "I wonder if you'd taste like garlic, too." She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the palpable tension compounded. "'fraid so." She replied, her voice huskier than she would have liked. "So would you." She thought she could feel his lips brush against her temple just as the song ended. Slowly, perhaps reluctantly, they pulled back, looking into each others' eyes. There was almost uncontrollable magnetism between them that was drawing them closer together, encouraging them to finish what had gone so long unfinished. His lips parted, as did hers. Everything in his eyes told her what he wanted, what was to follow. Everything in her eyes mirrored his. A moment passed and they drew in a few deep breaths, balancing on the edge between before and after, slowly moving toward each other without noticing that all eyes in the room were on them. The band members did not resume playing, setting down their instruments and throwing amused glances and grins towards the couple so near to the realization of their first kiss. The men began to return to their table, stepping around Mulder and Scully as they did so, wearing grins and laughing, touching congratulatory and encouraging hands to Mulder's back as they passed by. The outside intrusion broke their private tension. Scully's back stiffened, and her eyes grew wide as she removed her arms from around his neck and looked at her wristwatch. "We should be getting back." She said, her voice authoritative but holding a slight tone of melancholy. Reluctantly, Mulder released his hold around her waist and turned, heading back to the table after her. What was unfinished would remain unfinished at this time. Pulling out his wallet, he thumbed through his cash and tossed a few bills down on the table, and with a sigh, glanced over at her with a look that asked, 'are you ready?' She nodded and turned toward the table where the musicians had resumed their drinking and laughing. "Thank you, the music was wonderful." She said with a smile. Mulder smiled and held up his hand and the musicians responded with waves and nods of their heads, smiling and calling "Adios!" She turned to Mulder and gave him a raised eyebrow, followed by a happy grin that said that everything was okay between them, and a nod toward the door. He returned the grin with relief, and when they had nearly reached the door the round woman appeared from the kitchen, rushing up and placing a carryout box in Mulder's hands. "Lleva esto a la casa y daselo. Recuerdale del baile y despues trata de nuevo. El beso. Besala!" Which meant, 'Take this home and give it to her. Remind her of the dance. Then try again. The kiss.' With a smile she pressed her hand against her lips and scurried back into the kitchen. Neither of them spoke Spanish, but both had studied enough Latin to get the gist of what was said. They had come a long way that afternoon, and although there were still many things unspoken and unfinished between them, they knew that at some point in the not too distant future they would have another opportunity. For what was once attempted with good intention would surely be attempted again, and again, until resolved satisfactorily. Without looking at each other, Mulder and Scully left the restaurant to return to their professional lives with a warm styrofoam box smelling of roasted garlic, each aware of their own intentions and wearing their own private smile. They were improving. fin beduini@geocities.com http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Starship/9769/Main.html Author's note: Alright, I know Chris Carter would probably applaud the denial of an actual kiss. But he tried it once...surely he'd try it again? My waning faith still hopes he won't let us down in the end. Stylistically, this was a bit of a departure from my usual writing. Did you hate it? Like it better? Indifferent? Thanks to Marty for beta and her friend Vera for the Spanish translations. The Buena Vista Social Club is an album by Ry Cooder and an excellent Cuban ensemble. There's also a movie currently playing about this album and ensemble.