Missing scene for Rain King.

Brief references to: Pilot, Post Modern Prometheus, Chinga, Fight the Future, Triangle, Rain King.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter owns them, I'm just playing!

Reviews and feedback are most welcome.

Shall We Dance?

The gym looked like the perfect setting for a high school chick flick. It was her biggest nightmare, but there was something magical about it too. Light hit the disco ball that was hanging from the ceiling, and broke into tiny rays of rainbow colors which exploded around the room. Judy Garland's anthem melted into a slow song from the eighties, but the couples on the dance floor barely seemed aware of the change. For one night only, they all seemed to be giving in to the illusion they were back at high school, once again young and carefree. Sheila and Holman were somewhere among them, but she had long lost sight of them. They didn't need help anymore. They'd be perfectly fine on their own.

The song was vaguely familiar, a remnant of her high school years. It was probably played in her high school prom. She felt herself sway in tune with its mellow sounds. She couldn't help it. Music had this affect on her; she simply couldn't stand still. The tingle was familiar, reaching all the way down to her toes. It awakened an old yearning within her. More than anything, she wanted to join all these couples on the dance floor and dance the night away.

She mentally scolded herself for this burst of sappiness. It wasn't like her to be so sentimental. School reunions would do that to a person, she guessed. But no matter what it was she had wished; it wasn't going to happen. She was on duty; well, sort of. There would be no dancing tonight, whether she liked it or not.

There was another good reason why she wouldn't be dancing tonight. She tore her eyes away from the dance floor to briefly glance at her partner, whose gentle movements from side to side mirrored her own. She sighed inwardly, and it was a cross between frustration and annoyance. He was never going to ask her to dance again. She knew he wanted to. She knew him better than he had known himself, and it was obvious that he was longing to dance, just as much as she was. But he wouldn't ask her, not again, and she had no one but herself to blame. She knew it, and she had been kicking herself about it constantly, more often than she cared to admit. Ever since she had rejected his love declaration, he had been keeping his distance.

What was she supposed to do? She didn't even think he had meant it. Hadn't he asked her to marry him only several months before? She wasn't supposed to take it seriously back then, so how was this different? She believed he was so heavily sedated he couldn't see straight, let alone realize what he was saying. By the time he got back to work, avoiding her eye, speaking to her only when necessary, it was already too late to take back her reaction to what she had now realized were sincere words. But it was not too late to replay the moment in her mind, over and over again, and that hardly made her feel any better.

Things had been awkward between them ever since, but the tension had finally begun to dissipate somewhat. And now they were here, in Kroner, Kansas, where everyone insisted to make a couple out of them, to refer to him as her boyfriend, to put them in a single motel room. If she believed in such phenomena, she would have thought the universe was trying to tell them something. She knew this case brought back that day at the hospital for him and was irked by this fact. Just as they were making some sort of progress. Knowing him, he was probably back to beating himself up for his failure.

She remembered a different dance, not too long ago; the one and only dance they had shared. Just like tonight, the music sipped into every inch of her body, leaving her yearning, sitting at the very edge of her seat. She remembered everything about the moment he had asked her to dance. She was surprised when he reached out his hand for her. She remembered her initial hesitation, her tiny gasp of surprise when he pulled her into his arms in a movement both adamant and gentle. She remembered the strange sensation of moving against him; strange, but oddly familiar, too. Most of all, she remembered the disappointment when, three songs later, the music stopped and they were forced apart. She missed his arms around her as soon as he let go of her.

She remembered the intensity of the dance. They had not taken their eyes off one another's as they moved slower than the music, not caring for its beating rhythm. They communicated as they always had, wordlessly, eyes gleaming and lips curling in secret smiles only they could understand. He was an easy lead to follow, but this fact didn't surprise her. They worked well as partners; there was no reason why it wouldn't be applied to dancing as well. She felt them being drawn closer together that night. There was no FBI, no extraterrestrials or government conspiracy. For the duration of three songs, there was more to their partnership than just that. She had promptly ignored her nagging rationality for as long as he held her against him and just… followed her instincts. It was all worth it when their eyes met and he smiled at her. She had never seen him smile like that.

She snuck another glimpse at him. He was staring at the dancing couples, too distracted to notice her. She thought of what she had said to Sheila earlier. It was so easy to apply her words to herself. Too easily, no matter how strongly she would try to ignore or deny it. She couldn't help but wonder when was it she had stopped thinking of him as simply her partner, when she had started to consider him – them – as something more. Was it when she was lying on her deathbed several years ago, or when she collapsed in his hallway with the ghost of his kiss still on her lips, or in one of the many times she believed she would never see him again? It was also possible that she had never stood a chance, that although she hadn't realized it until some later moment, she fell in love with him the moment he shook her extended hand and arrogantly asked her if she believed in the existence of extraterrestrials.

She couldn't really pinpoint the shift, but she was well aware of it. It was impossible not to notice it, for it was wearing a more tangible form as days went by, and months, and years. They had been partners for over six years now. They had been through hell and back. They had saved each other's lives countless times. Their relationship had always been consisted on trust and respect, but it was more than just that now. He told her how he felt and she dismissed him out of fear or uncertainty or this damn old habit of hers to constantly overanalyze everything. But she knew how she felt. It was impossible to push back or disregard. Whenever he touched her, the subtle motion sent her heart flying. She knew he knew this. Sometimes she suspected he was doing this on purpose.

She felt like such a hypocrite. He must have known how she really felt. Regardless of how intuitive he was and the countless little proofs he must have accumulated over the years, that day in the hallway should have given him a pretty clear idea. He must have known that she loved him too, despite the way she had reacted while hearing those three words spoken by him. It didn't make the whole incident less horrifying. He had given her a chance and she blew it. For all she knew, her punishment would be six more years of yearnings unfulfilled. How long could they keep this up? How long could they continue this dance?

Well, this was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. She was a strong, independent woman. She was a special agent with the FBI, for crying out loud. Wasn't this the thing she had strived to prove every goddamned day to her coworkers and superiors? If she wanted to dance, she should take the initiative instead of waiting for an invitation that would never come. She was facing monsters practically on a daily basis, damn it. She could do this.

"Mulder – "

"Scully – "

She started at the sound of her own name and looked up to find him smile sheepishly at her. "Go ahead," she said. The words came out softly, much softer than she had intended. Another proof to add to his collection. She hoped she wasn't blushing. His smile widened an inch as if she was.

"No, go on," he replied.

"No, that's okay."

Coward, she scolded herself, now clinging to the diversion as though her life depended on it. He was not having it, though. He shook his head. "I insist. Ladies first."

It was as if he could sense the struggle within her. He looked amused almost, as though he enjoyed watching her squirm. She held back a scowl; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She cleared her throat and kept her eyes locked on his. She could definitely do this. "I was just wondering if, umm, you'd like to dance."

Alright, so it didn't come out as effortlessly as she had hoped. His reaction was priceless nonetheless. He blinked as though he had expected her to say something else entirely. It was actually quite gratifying to see him so dumbfounded. He quickly recovered, though, but his smile was different now, softer. His hazel eyes glimmered. "I thought you'd never ask."

It was a moment before the words sank in. She had come to expect his tactless innuendoes, but he uttered none. She was definitely blushing as his hand closed around hers, as he laced their fingers together. She followed his lead as they made their way to the middle of the dance floor. Once there, he held her at a safe distance, with one arm wrapped loosely around her waist, like an awkward teenager facing his very first dance with his prom date. He seemed to be doing this for her sake; he probably assumed she would think it was the right thing to do.

Well, she was sick and tired of doing the right thing. She heard him gasp as she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. She locked her gaze with his, wordlessly daring him to pull back. For one dreadful moment she was sure he was going to do just that. Instead, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her closer. She placed her head against his chest simply because she could. His scent wrapped around her like mist; familiar, intoxicating. She closed her eyes and breathed him in. As they slowly swayed to the sounds of another tacky eighties song, he placed his chin against the top of her head. A contented sigh escaped his lips. It brought a satisfied smile to her own lips.

Yes, theirs was a never ending dance, she mused. But a change was coming; she could sense it. She could not tell its nature, exactly, but she was almost certain they were up for a new sort of dance, and hopefully, a better one. She had not been his partner for all these years for nothing. She, too, wanted to believe.