Story Listing

1. S1 E7 - Mistletoe

2. S1 E7 - Dancing In The Dark

3. S1 E7 - What Do You See? (3 parts)

...wip

S1 E7 - Mistletoe

"I wouldn't do that, Miss."

"Why not? How can you deny me a kiss from a handsome stranger on such a lovely night?"

"On the grounds that I'm stranger than you think - and you don't want to visit our hospital."

"The hospital? Why would I need to visit the hospital? I feel fine. I feel MORE than fine. Your island rum is fantastic! I brought this sprig of mistletoe all the way from Sussex and you're just what I'm looking for. Now, pucker up." So saying, Miss leans in, eyes closed, lips pursed, anticipating a warm masculine response. What she gets is the sudden snake-strike seizure of her lifted arm! Her eyes fly open in surprise… but it isn't him. He's looking over her shoulder at something behind her… and he doesn't look pleased. Before she can utter a word, she's whirled right around to be faced with a blazing Fury… a blazing Fury in a red dress.

… and the Fury hisses, "What do you think YOU'RE doing?"

Miss begins to stutter but then hushes as she realizes the Fury isn't talking to her. Then she hears the man say, "I'm not doing anything, as you can plainly see." Miss hears the quiet clink of his cup setting back into the saucer before he adds, "What do you think YOU'RE doing? This tourist was only attempting an age-old tradition on a fellow Brit. She didn't mean any harm… and I certainly don't believe she deserves any harm. Do you?"

The Fury's flashing eyes remain locked on Miss's frozen gaze, "An age-old tradition? What, stealing husbands? Kissing the handsomest man in the world just once before she dies? She may not have meant any harm but she found it." Now the Fury leans in ever so slightly and says to Miss, "Oh yes, you found it."

Miss gulps and slowly waggles the sprig in her hand. "It's only mistletoe," she whispers, "I didn't mean any insult. I didn't know he was married. I didn't know I was poaching. I'm sorry. I AM. Really really really sorry."

The fury listens with lidded eyes. She drops Miss's arm, reaches past her, and pulls a pale suited hand into view, pointing to the gold wedding ring, "Do you see this? Do you? I got him the biggest one I could find! I polish it every night! What do I have to do, stick a Post-It note to his forehead? He's MARRIED! Got it? MARRIED!"

Miss nods dumbly. Oh, yeah, she gets it. Thinking back to the brief encounter with the man sitting behind her, she suddenly wishes she had gotten a lot MORE of it… but wisely keeps this thought off her face. She keeps nodding.

Now the suited arm lifts off the bar and plucks the sprig from Miss's hand, holding it out to the Fury, "Look, it's just mistletoe, a parasitic vine that preys upon mature broad-leafed trees such as oak and apple. It symbolized undying love to the early Christians despite being highly poisonous. It was sacred to the Druids and the Celts."

The Fury releases Miss's arm, picks up a bar napkin, takes the mistletoe into it before closing her fingers and squeezing. Miss watches this and lifts eyes to look into hot hell one last time as the Fury whispers, "Well, this little parasitic vine can look elsewhere for prey. This man is already sacred - to ME!" She leans in, opens Miss's hand, and drops the mashed up napkin with the broken bit of white and green into it before holding out a hand past Miss's shoulder.

The man steps into view, takes the Fury's hand, and is drawn away towards the dance floor. As he passes Miss, he whispers, "Sorry, she gets a bit stroppy at times. I'll have a word with her."

Miss daren't meet those eyes again, just nods and watches him glide through the crowd until he's gone. Then she gives herself a shake, slips off the bar stool, and heads for the door. She needs fresh air. Outside, she stands and looks up through the music and savory odors and colourful lights to the dome of twinkling stars. She lifts the corner of the napkin to peek at the bedraggled remnants of greenery. Nope, a hopeless mess. She tosses it into the nearest bin, goes into the nearest bathroom to wash her hands, and decides to head back to her hotel.

As she walks, she thinks back upon the man. From across the room, he'd looked polite, safe, good-looking. As she'd gotten nearer, he'd changed slightly, still polite and safe but handsomer. When she'd reached him, he was transformed, shining with some secret inner light. Creamy skin, hair gleaming all auburn and gold and russet, and those eyes! Those eyes had halted her heart for just a moment but it was a moment that lasted quite a long time. And, just as her stunned mind had begun to wonder if maybe this moment could last a life-time, the Fury had descended!

Miss speeds up, hurrying now, trying to put as much distance between herself and that man, that man and his Fury. As she strides along, she begins to nod. Yes, I think I'd react much the same if he were mine. As she turns into her hotel's entrance, she sighs. Good luck to you, Fury. As she walks past the Caribbean Christmas tree in the lobby, decked out in exotic decorations, she pauses to study it. And, maybe, if I'm a very, very, VERY good girl next year, I'll find another one just like him! But not here. These waters aren't safe.

Meanwhile

The couple under consideration are slow dancing to age-old rhythms, older than mistletoe, older than civilization itself. One of them is lost in these rhythms but one is not and this one says, "Honestly, you can't go around scaring the tourists like that. It was just a friendly gesture, I was already refusing her. You didn't have to…"

Hot eyes open ever so slightly, "Oh yes, I did. If she'd kissed you then other women would have gotten up the nerve to kiss you and I'm the ONLY one allowed to kiss you. You know that."

He chuckles, "Of course I do. And no one else wants to kiss me. You have an over-active imagination."

Camille sweeps a covert eye over his shoulder, sees the disappointed yet speculative glances at his back, closes her eye and rests her cheek against his shoulder as she wraps possessive arms around him, "Mmm-hmm, you go on believing that if you want to… but I know the score… and I will continue to defend my… my…"

He lifts his chin, "Your what? Territory? Ground? Property? I'm not chattels, Camille; I'm a person, a living breathing person with free will and a mind of my own. No one can force me to do anything I don't want to… and I don't want to kiss anyone but you."

Her hands tighten on him and she murmurs, "I know, Richard, I know, and I'm sorry if I embarrass you in public but I simply can't bear to see other women within 2 meters of you, especially women with kisses on their mind."

He scoffs, "You gave me heck for refusing a garland from a woman outside Solly's night club, remember? You got quite angry with me, said I was anti-social and a kill-joy, so what's changed, hmm?"

She grips him tighter then relaxes with a sigh, molding herself to him like a second skin, "What changed? I did. Then, I didn't love you. Now, I do. Then, I didn't burn for you. Now, I do. Then, I hadn't seen you naked…"

He bumps foreheads with her, murmurs back, "And now you have. But I still don't…"

She lifts starry eyes, no longer the Fury, now just a woman in love, "Hush, husband. Just hold me in your arms, ignore all the other women in the world, keep me happy, and all will be well."

He nods, doing just that, and adds, "And all manner of things will be well."

They settle into each other's embrace and continue to dance, shutting out the world once more, a world where everyone seeks their soul mate but very few ever find them.

Some people just get lucky, I guess.

END