Author's note: Well, this is it, folks. The final installment. *sniff sniff* I'm so sad to have to finish, but this story needs to end on a high note, I think.

So here we go. Chapter Ten.

***

Chapter Ten: "Two-Step."

10:13 PM

The Supper Club, Downtown D.C.

It was one of the bigger tables in the place, and five very satisfied federal agents were leaning back from it.

"Oh my God," Reyes said, patting her stomach. "I can't believe I ate so much."

Everybody laughed, because Reyes hardly looked like she'd eaten at all. Doggett was just amazed she could still speak, after the meal they'd had.

The restaurant of the club, which featured a multi-national menu, was renowned for its Italian portion, and everyone had ordered from it. Mulder and Scully had split a medium lasagna. Skinner had ordered the fettucine Alfredo. Reyes had ordered something with angel hair pasta and shrimp. Doggett didn't eat out much, so he went with the spaghetti and meatballs, because that was the only thing he recognized.

On top of that, there was perfectly dressed salad, breadsticks, and good red wine that just kept coming and coming. There was dessert for the table --- five expensive slices of different, rich kinds of cake, each accompanied with an appropriately flavored scoop of ice cream. And now they were all having coffee.

Doggett looked around at their now properly-dressed party. Reyes's strappy, knee-length dress was the color of her hot mocha, and she'd "accidentally" brushed his legs with one of her high-heeled, knee-high tan boots at least four times tonight. The fake fur coat she wore into the place hung off the back of her chair, and her skin glowed in the dim light.

Scully had chosen a flirty little black number with matching heels, which made a striking contrast with her pale skin and blue eyes. It also contrasted nicely with Mulder, who was sitting next to her comfortably, with one arm around her bare shoulders. He'd gone about the level of casual that Doggett had, with an olive turtleneck and deep brown slacks. The light made his hazel eyes look green.

Skinner was also dressed appropriately, and seemed to be perfectly happy without anyone's arm around him. He took a lazy sip of his red wine. The color in the glass refracted in the light and brought out the rose in his cheeks. Nobody at work realized he had rosy cheeks, because he was usually stern-faced or yelling. But when he was laughing and drinking with friends, as he was tonight, they were plainly visible, twin red lanterns proclaiming that he wasn't old just yet.

Doggett stirred his cappuccino and looked at the dance floor. The DJ had been spinning everything from the Rolling Stones to Bird and Dizzy, and people had been out on the wood for an hour now. But the Feds at table 42 were still lounging around and talking, having gleefully stuffed themselves with fine food. All the fees, including the exorbitant entrance price per head, were going to the FBI.

He looked at the woman next to him and stood up. The others stared.

"Agent Reyes, would you care to dance?" he asked, and he held out his hand.

She took it with a smile, stood, and the two of them went out on the dance floor. There was a "Whooo!" behind them, and Doggett, turning red, whirled around on Mulder and glared at him. But Mulder had seriously gotten into the wine during dinner. He was totally smashed. Scully threw up her hands in an "I'm sorry" gesture, and her partner gave Doggett a big goofy grin.

Reyes tugged him away, muttering, "C'mon. Don't start."

"Autumn Leaves," by Nat King Cole, was playing. Doggett and Reyes started to dance, quite close. Neither of them minded. They were really just sort of hugging and maneuvering themselves around in a little circle. And talking.

"So," he said. "About back there, at my house."

"What?" she asked.

"I have to apologize to you. What I said was really inappropriate. Sorry."

He thought he heard the sound of faraway breaking glass. It could have been her heart shattering, for the look on her face.

"Monica?" he asked gently. "What's wrong?"

"I . . . I just thought . . ." She breathed hard and looked away. She felt like crying. "You didn't mean it? You were just messing around?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Now Doggett was just baffled. He admitted to feeling as such most of the time on the X-files, but not really when it came to Reyes.

"Wait a minute. 'Didn't mean' what?"

And Reyes made her decision. She would run with it. She'd press him until she found out what his intentions had been.

"All that stuff," she said, and then sniffed. "In the bedroom. Smiling at me in your underwear. Letting me hold you so you could stretch. Suggesting I spend a lot more time at your place. It was all a joke?"

Weepy from the wine at dinner, a tear leaked out of her left eye and ran down her face. Doggett's heart started to hammer. His mouth went completely dry. And he realized he'd been just a tad too . . . subtle, of all things. Marines, cops, and Feds were not subtle. He had been all three. He silently commanded himself not to screw this up, and wiped her tear away with a thumb.

"No," he said gently. "No, it wasn't a joke. None of that was a joke. You have no idea how good it is to have you in my life, Monica."

He smiled at her, a little crooked grin, and held her tighter. She snuggled against him. Success.

"And if you *wanted* to spend more time at my place," he continued in her ear, "You wouldn't get any complaints from me."

"I'm so relieved you told me," she replied. "I thought you'd never figure out how I felt."

"I don't know what you mean," he said playfully.

"Oh please, John. Dana and I both knew you two were listening at the door today." She said, looked at him, and smiled as his countenance turned wide- eyed and ashen. "You have a lot to learn about espionage."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Nothing came out. Reyes rescued him.

"But on the plus side, you're a really good dancer."

"Oh, good," he said, finding his voice. "I was afraid my sub-standard hiding skills would put me out of your league."

She leaned forward and their foreheads touched. "Never," she whispered.

They continued to dance for a while, until somebody bumped into Doggett. It was Scully, who appeared to be superglued to Mulder.

"Hi, guysh," she said, a little tipsy. "Havin' fun?" And she winked at Reyes, who nodded back with a knowing grin.

"Hey! 'Ya know what?" Mulder asked. "If 'ya --- If 'ya cross your eyes, there's six a' you!"

He demonstrated, amusing everyone. Scully gave her friends an embarrassed shrug and pulled Mulder away to a relatively deserted spot on the floor, where they wouldn't crash into anybody.

Skinner looked at his watch. In an hour, Sharon would be home, back from her business trip out of town. He'd left a message on the machine so she'd know where he was, but knew enough not to suggest she come. She was probably bone-tired. Too tired to dance, but just awake enough to listen to his interesting story. He was sure she'd appreciate it.

He watched the two couples. Doggett and Reyes were moving clumsily around in a circle, but clearly enjoying themselves. And Mulder and Scully looked, rather annoyingly, like they were built to dance with each other. Even with Mulder piss drunk (and Scully little better), they were moving like a champion couple.

Skinner wondered for a minute what it would look like if they were both sober, and then realized that if that was the case, they would probably just be having sex instead of dancing. And that was something he *definitely* wouldn't be watching.

The DJ had just finished spinning some classic rock, and then put on a CD. "And here's something for all you Country fans out there," he said. "Get ready to two-step!"

Scully and Mulder looked a little confused by this, but Reyes and Doggett grinned at each other.

"Now here's some real dance music," Doggett said, as the rhythmic, ramming guitar intro came in.

Reyes smiled. It was modern Country --- Phil Vassar. One of her favorite songs. They grabbed each other and started to step their way across the floor.

"When you stop and laugh out loud,

When you're falling fast asleep,

When you're in the middle of a crowd,

When you're lying there holdin' me,

When you softly say my name,

When you're high and when you're low,

You don't need me to explain,

'Cause you already know.

When you smile . . .

That way . . .

You're in my heart . . .

Every night and day!"

The chorus hit in a blast of guitar and drums, and their dance exploded like a supernova.

"That's when I love you, when I need you, when I care about you.

That's when I know, without a doubt, that I can't live without you.

Every day I find another reason, every season we go through,

Every little thing you do . . . That's when I love you!"

They whirled and stamped to the pounding beat, Doggett turning Reyes and letting her fly out like a yo-yo before pulling her in again. They were throbbing with life, fire racing through their veins. They took the floor by storm. It was their moment.

"When you're driving in your car,

When you dance and sing to the radio,

When you're walking underneath the stars,

Anywhere and everywhere you go,

When you're dressed up or you're dressed down,

When you're talkin' on the phone,

A million people all around,

When you're all alone.

When you're near . . .

Or you're far . . .

You're in my heart . . .

No matter where you are!"

The chorus kicked in again and everybody on the floor got into it. Mulder hooked his hands in an imaginary belt and tipped an equally imaginary hat to Scully. She started laughing and shook her hips invitingly. Doggett and Reyes were pulling off some pretty energetic moves, too. Skinner just hung back at the table with a grin and watched the others enjoy themselves.

They danced until after midnight, hard and fast. All four agents were feeling happy and panting. Scully might have gotten technical and called their glee a case of "hyper-oxygenated euphoria," but she was too busy trying to stay upright. It was a challenge --- Mulder was no longer ripped, but he was pretty dizzy. He'd spent the last few minutes swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane.

At one, the evening was almost over. The songs were slowing down. Doggett knew he was slick with sweat and hoped he didn't smell too bad. Reyes didn't seem to care how he smelled, given that she was crushed against him, a pleasant buzz in her head that had nothing to do with the wine.

Mulder's head was starting to clear. He was holding Scully gently, resting his chin on her hair. Scully could feel the sweat pooling at the small of her back. She nuzzled against Mulder and yawned. It had been a heck of a night.

***

They all said goodbye out in front of the club. Doggett made sure Skinner had the card safely back in his possession. The A.D. was just pulling the tie on his overcoat taut as a cab pulled up.

"It was a really nice evening, sir," Scully said to him as he got in. "Say 'hi' to Sharon for us, okay?"

"Will do," he said.

"Good. See you Monday."

The four agents waved goodbye to him from the sidewalk, and he waved back through the window. Nobody felt like driving, so they waited to flag down cabs. Just as another cab arrived to take Reyes and Doggett away, Scully nudged Reyes with a smile.

"Where 'ya going?" she asked, singsong.

"Hmm. I think . . . I'm going to sleep in the Doghouse tonight," Reyes responded, her eyes cloudy with drink and lust. Then she snapped to life with a joke. "And maybe if my dog is good, I'll rub his belly."

She and Scully both laughed. Mulder and Doggett, who were standing together, couldn't hear their partners very well. They just shook their heads. Despite this interesting experiment today, they were positive they'd never understand the secret language of women.

But that didn't mean they wouldn't try.

The men shook hands and said goodnight. Doggett strode over to the cab.

"You be good to him, now," Scully whispered to Reyes, then raised her voice. "Oh, this was so much fun! Have a nice weekend!" She hugged her.

"Hey, Monica!" Doggett said, grinning. He was holding open the car door for her. "Cab's this way. C'mon. Let's get you home."

Mulder snorted and said, "*Whose* home?" under his breath. Because after all, he wasn't blind.

Monica didn't hear this. She laughed and wobbled over to the cab. Doggett helped her in, but she managed nudge him out of the way, wave spastically at Mulder and Scully, and yell, "Goodnight, you two! See 'ya Monday!"

Doggett got in after her. They all waved at each other as the cab took off into the night. Scully leaned against Mulder in the lamplight, and the wind whipped at her hair. Safe and warm in her overcoat, she pressed her face against his chest, feeling the scratchy wool of the sweater he'd pulled over his turtleneck and the twisting, sinewy muscles underneath his clothes.

She was just about to doze off on his shoulder when Mulder shook her gently. A cab had materialized out of nowhere, and it was time to go.

***

2 AM

Falls Church

Doggett and Reyes had mentally been preparing for a night like this, admittedly or not, since they'd first met each other nine years ago. Reyes had been thinking about comfortable sheets. Maybe candles. Some soft music. Doggett had been thinking much the same, except without the music. He didn't go in for that.

Unfortunately, it didn't work out quite the way they'd planned. At two a.m., Doggett found himself on his bed, in his boxers and an undershirt. Reyes had scrubbed off all her make-up, and was laying there next to him in one of his big USMC t-shirts and her panties.

They were both so exhausted from dancing and talking and eating and figuring out what they wanted from each other, that there was no energy left to actually act on their desires. They were too tired to move.

"Goddammit," Doggett muttered. "We're so damn old. And we have no planning skills at all."

He really wanted to say that they should have been going at it like rabbits by now, but figured that would offend Reyes. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

She just laughed at his spoken comment and yawned. "Don't sweat it, John. There's always tomorrow night."

And she watched in amusement as his eyes got really wide.

"You --- You wanna come back tomorrow night?" he asked, cautiously.

She turned to him. "You had plans that didn't involve me?" she asked.

"N-No! No! Of course not. It's just that I didn't expect . . ."

He was fumbling, and Reyes found this adorable.

"Stay," he finally blurted out. "Stay the weekend. Would you like to?"

"I would love to."

The subtext was not lost on Doggett. He smiled, and calmed down a little.

"Good. I just . . ." He broke off with a low laugh and shook his head. "I'm so stupid."

Reyes tsked and said, "No you're not."

"Oh, yes, I am. My God. Nine years of knowing you and I never realized . . . Wow."

She smiled. "Now you realize."

"Yeah," he said, his voice gravelly. "I get it."

And he kissed her. It was all they had the energy for at the moment, and it was chaste and quick, but it was wonderful. Doggett turned out the lights. They undid the covers, got underneath, and settled down to sleep in each others' arms.

***

2 AM

Alexandria, VA

Scully and Mulder didn't even make it to Mulder's bedroom, at first. They ended up "sitting" on his couch, sleeping with their sore feet propped up on the coffee table and their faces turned towards each other. He snored in her face for half an hour before he woke up from a dream. Then it hit him that the couch was no place for two people to sleep at once.

So he picked Scully up and carried her to the bedroom. It never failed to amaze him --- how she was physically so small, but such a large, powerful, loving presence in his life. She'd done a pretty good job of looking out for him today, he thought.

Then he started thinking about how she always looked out for him, as best she could, always worried for him. How he tried to look out for her, and love her, too, in his own clumsy way. How it was so rare that either of their efforts worked out. How they'd finally gotten it right.

It had been a night of tea, Chinese take-out dumplings, deep conversation about Stonehenge and "visions," and outrageously good sex. His heart was rising in his chest as he carried her. After years of indecision and odd looks and almost-kisses interrupted by insects, they'd finally done the deed.

The memory wafted over him --- they were cuddled in the sheets, talking of the future.

He asked, "Are you sure? Because as they say in the psychology business, I'm 'damaged goods.' There's some pieces missing, here."

She responded, "Are *you* sure? Because I'm not precisely a bowl of sunshine. Don't count on me to bring you out of every black mood, Mulder."

They recognized simultaneously how ridiculous they were acting, cracked up, and laughed till they cried. And finally, they just let themselves be in love.

Nobody got shot. The world didn't end. Everything was suddenly so simple.

She made him whole.

And he made her happy.

Snapping back to the present, he shifted her in his arms and turned sideways to get through his bedroom doorway.

"Sometimes," he whispered, "I feel so much for you, it hurts."

She didn't wake as he laid her down on the bed, but when he started to undress her, she squirmed and snuffled, and came awake enough to help him out. Down to her underwear, she pulled on a big shirt she kept at his place. He undressed too, and they both fell asleep under the covers, an exhausted tangle of limbs and hair and quiet breathing. Conversation could wait until dawn. Or noon. Whatever.

***

2 AM

Crystal City, VA

Walter and Sharon Skinner had just finished doing their own special dance. The best parts of this dance, at least according to Walter, were its requirements and location: no clothes and a soft mattress, respectively. They were holding each other tight, passing hands over flesh, whispering nothings in ears, and letting their lips meet . . . whatever they met. They hadn't done it that energetically in a while.

Half an hour earlier, Skinner had come home and told his wife about his loopy day as a secretary, winning a few sympathetic "awww"s and plenty of laughs. And about fifteen minutes after that, she was sitting in bed with him. She'd written herself a reminder to send "thank-you" notes to both Scully and Reyes. They'd taken care of her husband's fashion needs quite well --- she'd seen the outfit. The rain pattered outside.

Her eyes were feeling very heavy when there was a light, gritty touch on her shoulder. She turned to see the man she'd happily married, nearly separated from, and reconciled with. He was looking at her in adoration, his brown eyes dark with desire.

For you see, Walter Skinner was a wise man who knew the words "delayed" and "gratification." Instead of wasting his energy on the dance floor that evening, he had saved it up for something far more important. And had he had any breath left when it was over, he would have commented that it was "very, very good."

THE END!

***

Happy endings make life better, don't you think?

For those of you who are just getting here, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! If you leave a review, fantastic. If you don't, that's cool too. I hope you enjoyed the story. *I* certainly had a good time writing it.

If you have reviewed this sucker before Sunday evening, September 29, 2002, please go on to the AUTHOR'S NOTE. There's some "pontificating" and a BIG Thank You waiting for you.

All the best,

Kiki 8=)