The Date

Premise:  When Langly Meets Scully's cousin...
Author:     Sue
            susieqla@yahoo.com
Rating:     PG-13
Category:   Vignette/Langly POV/Other/
            MSF
Spoilers:   None really.
Summary:    Langly's Big Night...
Disclaimer: No infringement.
            C. Carter, 1013, and
            FOX ownership of X-Files
            and characters.

Aw right, maybe I don't know everything. Cool. What I want the world to believe, well, that's *my* B.I. business....

When I think how much I didn't wanna go along for the joy ride that evening, to hang with the same, so usual company, looking back, makes me wanna 'L-O-L.'

One victory my restiveness didn't win this time. I can still hear myself whining--whining....the mother tongue I revel in whenever the mood hits to be contrary. Sometimes....

Just for the sheer kick of it, I'm like that.

Earlier that morning, I was being contrary at full tilt. It took me a while to realize, before my cranky acquiescence, that my partners in co-conspiritorial theoretical opinion, wouldn't take, "NO" as my definitive answer.

'Ad refusal....'

"I told them we'd be at Scully's at about seven-thirty," Byers had informed, with that no nonsense timbre cloying in his erudite voice.

The voice of zip possible recourse; the timbre I could slap that self- important little smirk off his face, for....sometimes.

"I made the reservations at DC Tivoli for eight o'clock," he'd droned on.

I had rolled my clearer eyes, yeah, they sorta are these days....my nod to AA. I think those true confessions sessions are kinda helpin'. I don't think about needin' a drink most of the time like I used to.

I'd wanted to escape by jumping into one of my red herring screen savers, or inhaling a thimbleful of Johnny Walker Red....hey--I never said I was cured; there's still a long way to go....Fro' says it takes time....

Ten years screwin' around with Mulder. Is this a reason to make with an anniversary moment? Don't think so. Big, who cares, deal.

Don't get me wrong; Spooky's okay, far as Fibbies go. Scully too, for that matter, when she's not being her strict to scientific method about things self....

'Sides, I'm working through gettin' over this dumb crush I've had on her for ages, so I don't really wanna make the social scene with her in Mulder's as big as life company.

And we all know I ain't big on celebrations....but I digress, but who's noticin'?

Anyway....I'd said:

"So?" and had huffed and puffed, but nobody's house got blown down. I'd taken eye rolling to newer, dizzing heights.

I'd pushed my glasses up, atop my head so my glare wouldn't get lost behind the ocular barrier. "SO!"

"So, you're comin', man." Frohike had been in a not backing down mode for anything all morning.

Boring! How could I have possibly imagined for one friggin' moment I stood a chance in no compliance land in the face of his serious, granite attitude, which he always seems to catch when it's me bein' noncooperative.

Payback; you know what it is. Get ready, get set. When you least expect it, I'll be there to dis ya good.

I've been fighting with them....

Okay a lot, lately. Why? How should I know? I don't feel like getting into it right now; not in the mood.

I gave in without a big knockdown, drag out, this round. My recalcitrance reserves were runnin' on empty, so grumpily, I'd made it fast....

"All right, already--you want me? Ya got me. You take prisoners. Like I so care. Long as I'm drivin'--and I don't haveta sit next to how-come-we-don't-do-this- more-often Mulder, I'm in..."

xXx

So, here we are, back in real time, and turns out, I'm still battin' ten thousand. Today's lousy track record is still intact.

Byers has stationed himself in the driver's seat ahead of me, clean over my blistering verbal assault.

Did I say I was in a good mood today? No? Didn't think so.

Nothing short of a stick of lit dynamite will blast him outta *my* seat. I'm the driver in this trio....

Fine, then....chill....

It's all bein' recorded, buds, kudos to my brain. Ha! Wait till you lameozoids want somethin' real bad....

I blink, but keep right on ruminating, conveniently forgetting what they've sacrificed for me. Saving me from myself, among other things.

Did I ever, once ask 'em to? NOT. We're not gonna go THERE, are we?

Absent-mindedly, I'm plunking away on my left temple with index finger and grinning, suddenly feeling self-satisfied.

Just wait, both of you....How's about a little hard drive hockey when you need an uncluttered one to back up some files?

Don't look at me....

I'm on the passenger side, behind the conniving porn pervert, who decided to go without wearing his fingerless gloves for a change.

I close my eyes, trying not to think about being undone by Mista Brooks Brothers.

Okay....since I've been barred from driving. I start craving a greasy, arterial-clogging Big Mac, the customary super size fries, topped off by a....let's see uh, uh....

A vanilla shake. Hey maybe I could get a combo; chocolate mixed with 'nilla. Not in the mood for a Coke; been real gassy lately.

Every inch of the en route we tool along to Scully's, the more I want Mickey Dee's, and not Italian soul food.

As though hypnotized, it dawns on me, then, that we're turning down the agent's block. Time approx., who cares?

There they're, waiting outside her building. Scully, Mulder; I start to yawn and....

HELLO!! Oh my--GOD--who's THAT??

WHO IS THAT!!!!!

Who's the Goddess? Pinch me, baby. She's the most beautiful female I've ever laid popping peepers on, and I've taken in my fair quota of bodacious babes in my thirty-somethin' years on this orb.

Sorry, Scully. Where's *she* been hidin' all these years?

I slam my gaping mouth shut. I sure didn't tell it to spring open like that. This hotie out babes every last one of 'em.

MAN--she's incendiary!

The surging need for the Mickey Dee's fix is violently shoved way into the background, replaced by a different hunger.

As we pull up, I contemplate the righteous vision standing beside a tastefully-attired, uncharacteristically grinning, giggly Scully.

The honey can't be more than thirty; one-twenty in stocking feet....she's got real exotic features. Her skin's immaculate; the color of creamy toffee....

Call me cracked, but there's a hint of Scully in her face, but she's much taller. Meanly lean. Maybe five-seven, eight. Kazaam! We're talkin' fashion model here. Again the question hammers.

WHO'S THE DIMEPIECE????

Perhaps a spanking brand new next door neighbor of Scully's? Hope, I hope, I hope.

I wonder what Fro's thinkin'? Or, do I really haveta guess?

I like what she's wearin'. Some kind of charcoal grayish, pants suit outfit. How should I know exactly? One fashion victim at your service. What I DO know, is that what she's got on looks sizzling. Bet she is....

Uh, there I go again....

I thread my more-stringy-than-it- normally-is-'cos-I-neglected-to- shower-this-morning hair behind my ears. Immediately, I agonize over how much they stick out, though no one has ever told me they do, to my face.

Nah, wait; I've gotta take that back. Jerry D'Avalo said I had ears like that Little Rascals kid, Alfalfa, when I was nine. Great little ego booster that creep. He's probably a corporate raider; something white collar on the shady side by now.

Not dressed for eating out in a really nice, as in classy, place? Ya think? Hey--duh, but at least I'm wearin' a clean shirt, and it's not the Ramones.

I'm wearin' my black and white, 'See, it's painted on to look funky like this...funky. That's funky the feelin', not the wiff,' kitschy creation. At least my jeans ain't ripped tonight, and they match my jacket.

"Good evening, ladies and gent," Frohike expansively bades. "And who's this stunning, pretty lady?" he addresses to the celestial looker.

That's 'So-sicky' for ya. I just know he's got her stripped down to her undies by now. True to lech form.

"Why, hello. I'm Lislita Renee Viscaya Marti. Dana's cousin, visiting from Miami. You three charming gentlemen must be the Lone Gunmen, Fox has been telling me so much about. Mister Frohike, Mister Byers, and Mister Langly, a pleasure."

She smiles amiably at me through the open window. Yowza!

Yeah, me Langly; you, one bold knockout. Hellooo. I'd hung on every significant, scintillating, Hispanic syllable. Committing the pronunciation to indelible memory.

The way her name'd flowed out of that perfectly regal looking, conquistadora mouth, it's a wonder normal, well normal for me, brain functioning's still going on.

"Hop in, everybody," Frohike urges, "before our reservation is given away." Gruffly, he barks at me, "Just don't sit there like a mummy, man, open up, and let them in."

....I'll open up your head--you rag on me again like that in front of people....*her*....

I unlatch, and open the door. Weird. It's like I'm watching myself do as badgered; the sole player in a flick, acting in slo-mo.

"Thank you." She hesitates. "Ex, excuse me. I'm sorry..."

What? She's supposed to crawl over you?

"Wait--uh, like lemme-lemme slide over," I audibly fumble. Wouldn't ya know she'd be first in. No shower, but I shaved, and remembered to shmear on anti-perspi-deodorant. I practically make myself one with the extreme left side of the van.

I'm gonna call her Lee, if I don't lose my tongue due to lack of nerve.

I suck with Spanish, I've got no ear for it whatsoever, despite Frohike's tireless, or is it try-or-else efforts?

Anyway, the babe smoothly approaches to alight on the seat; prickly-heat close to me for my discomfort. I'll be dry swallowing for a while. Guaranteed.

She beams into my bemused face, and I shrink in self-conscious instability, not before I marvel....how does she see through those clumps that are her lashes? 'Mascared?' For sure. False? I wouldn't bet on it. That high-cheekboned face of hers isn't swimming in makeup, either.

Her full, mouth-watering lips have some reddish glossy stuff on 'em, and that's it, I think. Mercy. How'm I gonna live through this torture?

Scully piles in next, with Mulder right behind. Is it my imagination, or did he really put his hand on hers? He's grinning real stupid, and Scully's giggling again.

Yeah--he *did*. 'The times, they are a-changin'.'

Byers asks if we're all in, and satisfied we are, takes off.

"So, my dear, what brings you to our nation's bustling Capitol?"

I wanna barf. Frohike swivels around to get a thorough eyeful. He won't be turning back 'round anytime soon, I gather, by the jaunty lilt in his voice, and the frisky glint in his eyes, like he's got x-ray vision. Too freaky, man. I feel I should give her my jacket as a shield.

"I haven't seen Dana since ninety-four. We were very close, growing up. I've missed her very much."

"I've missed you too, Leese." Scully gives her cousin's closest knee a squeeze.

Suddenly, the VW feels like a sardine can fitted with tires. I, especially, am feeling like one of the smelly, oily little suckers, packed in tight, as the cousin settles her fine self in against the seatback and me too, to a large extent.

Should I be complaining? No--and yes!

Okay, maybe you'd say, "What--are you nuts, dude? Gorgeous honey all snugged-up on you, and you're gripin'? Seek help now!"

Okay, look....if I tell you bona fide beautiful women, and Scully's cousin definitely fills the bill, totally freak me outta my gourd, you won't laugh, right? Stop snickering!!

I'm serious. I revert to the pathetic, acne-ravaged fifteen-year-old, who never had a date in high school, and had mercy ones once and awhile, post-grad.

Yo, I like girls; women. But, they faze me. I wish *they'd* like me better; and not just as a friend....

Like when Scully first started showing up with Mulder, I would skulk around in the background. Finally, it sank in. She wasn't one of those dull chicks who think they're all that.

We were cool ever since. I even started imagining she....and me....

Whoa!! I scrapped that idea quick; long ago, after seriously deep checkin' reality a couple kazillion times....

Scully an' Mulder sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g; first comes love, then comes--hey, like you know the typical rest....

One-sided love blows.

I snap outta my maudlin little universe of all by myself, to hear her cousin reply in this totally milk an' honey voice, "Dad's Mexican. Unlikely gene mingling, I know. Mex-Irish. Irish-Mex. He met my uncle's sister in Mexico City when she was on vacation. They fell in love, married--"

"Over Ahab's strong objections, when we were kids," Dana tosses in. "He came around in time, though. As we got older, we all ganged up on him. We demanded to meet this mysterious Mexican cousin of ours, mentioned only in hushed tones."

The captivating visitor nods and continues, "Had me; just me. I'm an only child. Child...'Dios mio,' I'm twenty-seven, afterall."

Scully sniggers, and pats her relative's knee. "Oh, sure. You're all grown up, but you're still the baby of the bunch, Leese. I'm amazed your father okayed your settling in Miami; letting you live on your own."

"What do you mean, 'let me?' Wow, give Danee-Waynee a real gun, and a Special Agent badge, and suddenly you're as old as dirt. 'Ay!' No!"

Mulder tries stifling a snicker-snort, but doesn't quite cut it. Scully slugs him, then cracks up too.

"I'm a big girl," she asserts.

....Nah, babe, you're totally perfect, I drool. Wanna try me on for size?....

"I know how to take care of myself. I've sure had to ever since mom died when I was fourteen." She sighs, and when she takes her next breath, I think I feel a tremor vibrate through her, transposed onto me, and I catch myself feeling sorry for her.

Taking care of myself is somethin' I know how to do too. I've been doin' it since I turned eighteen.

"I've appeared in 'telenovelas' in Mexico, and danced in a few music videos. The latest ones being, Enrique Iglesias' 'Bailamos,' and Ricky Martin's, 'Livin' La Vida Loca.' So, me? A 'baby?' I don't think so."

"You're pretty big in Mexico, right?" Mulder interrogates. "Romance ballards, and what's the other thing?"

"Rock 'en Espanol.'"

"You are, right?" Mulder persists.

I'm really into this conversation now.

"I guess. I don't use my real name. Too long. It's the Spanish Mexican name thing. The father's mother's maiden name, combined with the father's family surname, through the generations. Back in Mexico, DF, I'm known as 'Bellita Morena'... Little Brown Beauty."

She hangs her head. In modesty? No way. What for? She slays. Scully gives her shoulders a tight squeeze.

No way is right. Course she knows she's beautiful. Right? Anybody would haveta be blind in a dark room not to be bopped over the head. Who's she tryin' to kid?

Do I hate her?

"'Televisa's' idea for a stage name. Personally, I think it's too...too immodest. But, I didn't like to make too many waves over the little things. I went along with it, and hoped the people didn't think I was fatally in love with myself."

Bam--s'kay, she's not so full of herself. Don't hate her as much.

I turn onto my hip, and into her a bit more, giving her more room. My back's flush against the van wall. I give her an anemic smile, then gulp.

"We still have some ways to go," Byers informs, expectancy in his voice. "Would you view it as an imposition, Lislita," he says her name perfectly; I hate him, "if I request your favoring us with a sample of your song styling?"

If you want her to sing--just say so, Dapper Dan--in English! I shift roughly, and Lee casts a look of inquiry blended with apology in my direction.

A barn; that's where I was raised. You got it. An, "I'm sorry," squirms through my lips; just barely.

"Oh, I'm sure you don't--"

"Like, yeah. Sure we do," I tell her, sounding blunt. "Lay a tune on us. The radio's busted."

"Langly," Frohike upbraids by his tone alone.

"What?"

"Never mind." I can hear the, 'you geek,' loud an' clear in omission. "Would you mind, my dear?" He covers for my gauche; which I don't think I'm being, naturally. "We'd be honored. 'Por favor?'"

....What a show-off!....

"'Bien. Por supuesto entonces, senor.' If you insist..."

"We do," Forhike, Byers and Mulder press, in unison.

"Oh, go on, Lis," Scully encourages. She squeezes her shoulders again. I wish it was me doing that. "Show my journeymen friends a sample of our families' talent."

"As you wish, Dana..."

She clears her throat, and the mini concert begins. The first song she does is this thing called, 'No Se Tu,' she says this dude Luis Miguel sings.

Acappella perfection.

When she finishes, everybody voices their absolute approval. No hype. The chick's great. I'm mum. I just sorta smile shyly at her, and embarrassed, take an escapist glance out the window.

Where's this stupid restaurant? Near the Delaware Water Gap? It's like we've been riding for hours already. Geez....

The group wants her to do something else, after she tells us she used to date this Miguel dude between his breaking up with Daisy 'Yummy' Fuentes, and his hookin' up with another main squeeze, Mariah Carey.

The little name dropper....

Okay, so she's halfway through Lauren Hills' remake of, 'You're Just Too Good To Be True...' yada, yada, yada, and I wanna bolt. She sings and sounds the way she looks. Sooo sexy. I'm meltin' in my clothes. I cannot take much more of this close proximity before I betray myself.

I'm like so uncomfortable!

Once she's done, and more accolades are bestowed, I'm as silent as a stone.

"Don't you like my singing, Mister Langly?"

Involuntarily, I twitch. She's just breathed that into my ear.

"Sorry, folks, didn't want to roll us over that." The swerve Byers just made to avoid, "a humongous pothole," according to him, has her lips inches from my cheek now.

Her hand's braced against my chest. I bang my eyes shut and gag, trying to control what I feel happening. It's good I don't wear tight jeans.

Baby....you could rock me in your arms, and whisper-sing into my ear all night long....

What's the closest I can describe how sublime her voice is? Madonna, Jewel, Sarah, Mitchell, Turner, Twain, Sade, LaBelle, Franklin, Mariah, ad hoc. I add Scully's cousin to my personal pantheon of blow-ya-away divas.

I turn my face, not knowing what's come over me, and whisper into her ear, "You're intense."

"Intense?" she whispers back.

"Totally good," I award, lowering my voice more so. "A star...if you've got a CD out in Spanish, or, in whatever, write the name down. I'll go buy it."

I'm not looking at her as I'm telling her this, but something tells me she's grinning. I get brave, and chance bouncing a smile that's more concrete off her.

She's smiling, and I don't think it's because she's bein polite!

Hey, I'm not dying anymore. I feel myself reviving. What's up with this?

"Why, thank you, Mister Langly."

"You can drop the, 'Mista' okay? It's just Langly."

"Langly," she soughs again into my ear. Oh, man, does it tickle. I'm relieved to notice our conversation has become private, since we've arrived at the restaurant, and the four of them are talking among themselves. Good. No need for prying ears to overhear my lame attempt at gettin’ ta know her better. "Is it cool if I call ya Lee?"

She eases off me, not appearing even a smidgen shy about our sudden thrown up against each other affinity, but she looks somewhat puzzled, so I think she needs more translation. "Cool--"

"Cool. Yes, it is cool. It is fine, if it pleases you to. 'Popi' calls me that."

"'Popi?'"

"My dad."

"Cool." I'm grinnin' again, like I won't be able to stop. Would that be a tragic thing?

I'm in the initial throes of diggin' her deep, and not just her looks. Her; package total. Uh oh....somebody stop me. I'm settin' myself up again....

When will I learn? What would a stone looker like her ever want with me? She dates hunks and pretty boys on a regular basis. True?

"It's valet parking," Byers announces, sounding compelled to make us aware of the fact printed before our eyes. Maybe to hustle us out of the VW. So, we all snap-to and pile out, like dutiful little flunkies.

I watch as the van is driven off by this lanky, gel-dipped kid who's probably a drop-out. I once parked cars one summer at this country club.

A real lame gig, but the tips kept me in guitar strings. I sucked as a guitar player, so I spent 'mucho' money replacin' broken strings. Five metal wannabes. We called ourselves, 'The Terminal Outsiders.' We all sucked, man.

Remember I told you I've been gassy lately? Well, here's a refresher. I figure eatin' Italian will totally push the envelope. I decide to lay in prevention.

"Hey, group, like go on ahead. Gotta get some Rolaids or Tums. Anything antacid at that candy, newspaper, whatever else place we passed down the block. Catch ya at the table."

"May I go with you?"

Lee's looking at me expectantly. She's broken off from the Scully- Mulder-Byers-Frohike party of four, heading into DC Tivoli. She stands in the middle between me and them.

I can see Scully's all set to sensibly suggest, "Leese, it would be nice if we all sit down together. Langly's a big boy, perfectly capable of buying an antacid on his own."

She nods, but comes to stand beside me, looking mind-made-up. "Why, of course he is, Dana. He looks quite capable of a number of things."

Bull's-eye....

She winks at me like she's got me all figured out. This chestnut of a chick is soft-spoken spunk in action. Me likin' her classy crust more and more by leaps an' bounds.

"We won't be long." She claims my arm as hers, wanting us to link, and without a word passing between us, we head off for my digestive relief.

Halfway to the store, she speaks to a, 'I must be dreamin' me.'

"Do you have a first name, Langly?"

"Yeah, uh, sure. I...well, it's dumb. I don't like it all that much."

"Dumb?" After I tell her what it is, she transforms it, but I still tell her calling me Langly's fine by me.

"An...whatever you just said?"

"'Anillos.'"

"And that means?"

"Loosely. Extremely loosely, it means, rings."

"Okay. Whatever. When you say it, it sounds cool. Not like me. I mutilate Spanish, just ask Frohike. Call me what you feel." I hold the bell-rings-upon-opening door for her, and I think....this is surreal. As she floats over the threshold, I blurt like some basket case, "God, you’re beautiful."

"Oh, my..."

Again the head lowering. Must be a chronic thing with her. Girl, what's the big deal bein' what you are? Why act like everyone else knows but you? You got me to come right out and tell ya to your face, and we've just met....

"Thank you. You're very sweet for saying so."

Sweet? Me? Nah-ah; bein' sweet's got nothing to do with it, 'cos we all know I'm *not* all that sweet. I'm just statin' fact....

"You're like so welcome." Who said that? I smile.

After the door closes behind me, nearly thumping me in the keister, she reclaims my arm, and we sorta glide, yeah, you got it--glide--to the check-out. I must be trippin', and I don't even do drugs any more. Well, uh....not the hard ones....

So no time is wasted huntin' for my stuff, I ask the guy behind the counter for what I need. While I'm waiting to be told where antacids are, she mumbles something about going to the magazine rack to check out some fashion mags.

"Whatever, take as long as ya want..."

"Tums or Rolaids, sir?" The fatherly lookin' Pakistani holds out for my decision, because they're where he is.

"I'll go with both." Double the reinforcements. Already, my tummy's doin' backflip somersaults, brought on by femininity overload to the max power.

After I pay for the rolls, I swing around so I'll catch sight of her. Iscan the store's square footage, up down, back forth, but I don't see her.

I cram the antacids into my jacket's chest pocket, and start off for the pulps.

"Lee...hey, Leese," I call out. Nothin'. 'Nada.'

I'm just about to round the popcorn, chips, pretzels rack, when I freeze in my tracks.

Holy sh--this--this maniac's brandishing a knife at her, and spewing the worst mouthfuls of profane garbage I've ever heard. And, mostly I've said most of the worst crap I've ever heard.

Talkin' 'bout, "Yo--yo you comin' with me, mommy, and you don't get cut..."

I bristle in white-hot rage, even though it's like my stomach's got a hole in it.

There isn't time to think, only time to react.

I jump-spring front kick the blade right outta his big an' bad hand, with a ninja war cry. The weapon goes sailing high and clear of endangering anyone as it flys over the nutrition bars. I land solidly on my Converses. In the split second I strike a Chuck Norris warrior pose, Lee rushes to my side, far from cowed.

She mimicks my stance, bluff for bluff, although, she may not be bluffing. She looks way serious.

"Black belts. Registered with the cops. Wanna hear your bones crunch, up close and personal? Our Kung Fu's the best, man--be our guest." I'm smirking to beat the band, and feel ten feet tall with her by my side.

The schmuck trips over his own big feet, lays more profanity on us, and streaks outta our sphere of impudence, shooting out of the store.

I thank God he didn't call me on my charade.

I lower my hands, ignoring how shaky they are, and Lee crowds into me. "Hey, you okay?"

"Que mala onda!' You saved my life, Langly," she exhales, "you were magnificent."

....I was? I was too wired to notice....

"No way. I was mad. When I get angry, nobody's safe. He was threatening you. I saw blood red, him talkin' that shi--"

"'Porqueria.'"

"Yeah, like whatever. Sure you're all right?"

I take her arm to make a start for the door when she's ready. As we head out, it appears that the Pakistani conveniently disappeared himself for the escapade.

"Sure; yes. I am sure. I think I was more shocked than frightened. Nothing like this has ever happened to me in Miami."

"Shoot, Miami doesn't hold a candle to DC. Mayhem and murder capital, USA." We're back out on the wind whipped street, and I'm wary, just in case Lee's would-be pinheaded molester is layin' for us with gang members. "Just be glad he didn't have a gun. If he'd had one, I would've freaked more. Probably gotten us both killed."

Lee's weighted on my arm like it's a plumb line, and I figure she's more shaken than she's lettin' on. I hardly blame her. One minute you're browsin' mags, the next, you're bein' sized up for molestation 'a la' sliced an' diced....

THIS STINKIN' WORLD SUCKS!

"You are a martial arts expert, no?"

"Who, *me*? Nope. You?"

"'Ay, claro que *no*!' I copied what you did. I am an actress. 'Recuerda?' Remember?"

I laugh, she is so way cool. "I lifted that kick move offa one of my video games. I'm an expert when it comes to them. Vid games, TV cop shows and action movies are the only training I've ever had. Doubt anybody would call it formal."

She's laughing now, but clinging to me even more. We're nearing the restaurant and the thought of getting in out of the wind, and checking the nerve-racking excitement at the door sits real well with me.

I'm all set to sprint up the four steps to the eatery's door to hold it for her, but she prevents me.

"Wait..." Her hold on my arm slackens, but then strengthens in that instant. She yanks me back.

Next thing I know, her face's in my mug.

Bam--she's plasterin' her pair of juicy, generous lips on mine. Now I *know* I'm dreaming; but it's deeply weird. I haven't been able to wake up yet.

We both come up gasping after the passage of some very expressive moments.

"I will never forget your bravery as long as I live," she murmurs, as I shudder. "Again, I thank you for protecting my honor; my life..."

For the second time in so many minutes, a time of reacting in lieu of thinking presents itself.

Securing the base of her head with my trembling hand, I kiss her back, matching her intensity and ardor, but then surpassing it. I hear her whimper, and I know she must have heard mine.

So this is what doing what feels so totally natural is all about....

Finally, when we untangle, words are unnecessary. We know more than gratitude is happening here. It's all so crazy.

Slew-footed, I resume getting the door; I practically fall up the stairs. She passes along with the tenderest of smiles splayed on those soul-satisfying lips.

I join her on cloud nine where she's made room for me.

xXx

Dinner? All a blur; a bubbly blur, sans booze which typically generates it. I was ridin' high on the biggest feel good ever, with no possibility of hangover to slap me down next morning.

The singular thing I recall about the entire restaurant experience was Lee and me playing 'handsies' beneath the table, gettin' totally lost in a nebulous world we were constructing with gentle caresses, playful squeezes and some seriously sensual intertwining of fingers.

We were at that table, but we were way gone.

My buds and the Fibbies were into their stuff; Lee and I inserted our input when called for, but we knew we were into no jive meld mode.

We were getting into some heavy feelings. I know; I know. Hard to believe, but it really happened with her and me, like it did.

We didn't mention the incident. We didn't feel the need to. Our secret.

But it was no secret how I was beginning to feel....

During the ride back to Scully's, I had no problem with Lee nestled in my lap, and discreetly humming some Mexican ditty in my ear. Her luxuriant mahogony-amber hair hung like a bib about me.

Whatever the four of them had been thinking mattered little to me, and I guess Lee too. They all gave us odd looks; Scully most of all.

Like tough. Never seen two people click quick before?

Well, neither have I really, but I went with it.

I had smiled as I thought about what I'd thought when, earlier, she'd asked me if I liked her singing.

...Babe, you could rock me all night long....sometimes, I get so small and lonely...sometimes....I need a lot of tender, loving you know what....

Not tonight; but maybe one in the future. Dare I dare to hope?

All too soon, we’d pulled up in front of Scully's building, and Lee whispered, "Good-night," into my ear, but she looked like she didn't wanna leave me.

What choice did we have, though?

So....now, I'm lyin' here in my messy bed; hands threaded underneath my head, unable to fall asleep. I'm beyond freaked.

I'm all tingly again, after that second cold shower.

Our parting conversation loops over an' over in my feverish brain like a treasured CD.

I hear her silky voice in my mind's ear, as I stroke my cheek, wishing it were Lee doin' it to me, instead. Stroking me the way she'd done in the van.

"Call me? Please?"

"Serious? You want me to? For real?"

"If you don't, I'll call you, Langly..."

"Nah--I will. Uh, when do you leave for Miami?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"Sunday...huh?...like, maybe?"

"Maybe you'd...wanna go out with me tomorrow night?"

"Oh, yes--certainly. But, please...call tomorrow morning--early. I want to spend the entire day with you..."

"The *whole* day?"

"I'd like that, unless you have other plans..."

"No--no. I'm free; I'm like so free. Yeah. Okay; tomorrow...we'll do the whole day. If that's what you want..."

"That's what I want."

"Like, what time should I call?"

"You decide..."

The way she'd said *that* makes me smile all over again as I think of it now.

I look over at the LCD on the cluttered night table. It's 3:30 in the A.M.

That's three an' a half hours more to wait to make that call.

Two hundred and ten minutes to go, for my day to be made....my tomorrows too....maybe. Yeah, I know....I'm dreamin' with eyes wide open, but can't help it.

I'm overwhelmed, man....by post aural gratification.

I'm overwhelmed by everything about her....

xXx

End Prologue

Scully's Apartment
November 20, 1999
7:05 A.M.

"See you then, Langly. Uh huh... completely sure. Of course I want to spend the *whole* day with you. I told you so last night. No, I haven't changed my mind. Positive. And, why should I? Stop. I know what I want. Surprise me, then. Now, 'bye..."

Lislita ends the call, rises from the tall, wide-seat stool. In her cousin's downy, fleece-lined slippers, she pads her way to the refrigerator. Yawning, she opens its door, thinking oj would hit the spot.

"Don't even think about it, 'prima.' You're busted big time." Scully is leaning against the adjoining wall with her arms folded, sporting a mock glare she bounces off Lislita.

"Bu...but, Dana... He's...sweet. Already I find myself liking him very much. Very big time, like you say." Same, old Dana, her cousin thinks; always listening in on private conversations.

Scully crinkles her nose, finding it strangely amusing how crossed their wires are at the moment. "I'm referring to what you're about to do with that juice, Cuz. Use a glass? Please?" Watching her, even at this early hour, vivacious relative comply with her minimal request, she treads lightly, sounding unassuming. "Been up long?"

"Since about six-thirty." She sips. "I couldn't stay asleep any longer. I'm so excited. I can't wait to see him again."

This sounds like the start of something weird, Scully ruminates, noting the twinkle in her cousin's eyes.

She cocks her head, and looking pensive says, "You've made plans to go out with Langly, I take it." A dubious prescription of expectancy laced her voice.

"Uh huh." Lislita's voice is saturated with a good deal more anticipation. "He wants to show me the DC he knows. The places he likes."

....Oh, that should be interesting, Dana judges, suppressing the urge to ask her cousin if she likes dives where the menu is exclusivly cheesestakes. And spending the bulk of her day in Radio Shack.

"He'll be here by eight." She sips more juice, looking more like an eager child having been told she's going toy shopping, rather than a sophisticated 'Televisa' soap veteran who'd run out of options. "Why the sigh, 'primita?' Dana, what is wrong?" Her receptive eyes overcast in short order.

"Oh, it's nothing don't mind me."

"It sure doesn't look that way, 'primita,' looking like that." Lislita puts her drained glass in the sink, thinks better of just leaving it there, so decides to clean up after herself before her relation tells her to. Finishing, she goes back to the stool to sit. Her long, slender legs dangle. "What is up?"

Scully travels over to the fridge to get juice for herself. She uses the same glass her cousin's just rinsed and dried.

"Well...it's just that, since it's Saturday, and I'm off, I thought we could do something together--finally. Sunday, and it's, 'so long; wish you could've stayed longer. See ya,' and you're gone, Leese. That's all."

"Oh..." It's Lislita's turn to sigh. "This is true. We haven't done much together. Dana, I'm sorry..."

"It's all right."

"'Ay,' I wish I had more time to visit, but there are the cruise shows I'm booked to sing in. Next week, and--boom." She'd used her hands to mimic an explosion. "The Caribbean season blossoms into high gear over the next several months. Not that I'm booked throughout, but I'll be 'muy' busy regardless; whether I'm sailing, or not."

"Hey, not your fault, Cuz. Mine. My workload and schedule were murder this week, literally. Mulder offered to cover for me so I could take off to be with you, but I didn't think it was right, doing that."

Lislita brightens. "I know. Take a cruise on my line. I can get you a discount for family. Will you be vacationing soon?"

"Not soon enough, I'm afraid." Sloshing down another swallow of oj, Dana wipes her mouth off with the kitchen towel, shaking her head afterwards.

"Come with Langly and me, then, for today. Okay? Come. We'll have fun, the three of us. No-- even better--invite Mulder. You and he go well together."

"No, that's all right. I have a strong feeling Mulder's and my tagging along wouldn't sit too well with Langly...your date." Thoughtfully, "I mean, after all, you're going on a date with him, right? Albeit an all day one."

Lislita thinks her cousin's evaluation over. The beginnings of a demure smile tug at the corners of her full, rosy lips; rosy, their natural, vibrant color.

Her smoky eyes dance. "I'm the one who asked him, so whatever he thinks is fine with me. He's very..."

"Not the usual sort of man you date?" Scully pipes up, beating Lislita to the punch. She sighs again, trying not to sound overly critical and judgmental. Trying, but not succeeding to any successful degree. "You two certainly hit it off last night."

....They sure didn't hide the fact that something had changed between them after coming back from the convenience store, Scully considers. They'd made it blatantly obvious.

Their hot hands were all over each other during the ride home....

'The Look' had been rebuffed by them both.

If Mulder ever got that way with me, I'd have to tie him up, but he'd probably like that.

But, Leese with Langly?....

The lithe beauty chuckles in fondness, remembering how all through their phone conversation of a few minutes ago, Langly had kept saying that if she wanted to change her mind about going out with him, it was 'cool.'

'It won't be the first time a, "tasty" bails on me,' he'd told her.

"He is...so attentive in a charming boyish way. 'Padrisimo.'"

"But he's not your usual type, though."

Lislita hops off the stool. "Interesting, attractive men are *always* my type." With a spirited laugh, and a lilt in her walk, she heads for the bedroom to make up the air bed. "I'll shower quick, and get dressed. Please say you'll come. I'm sure he won't mind, Day. He being the gentleman he is."

....Oh, I strongly doubt he wouldn't mind....

"Langly?" ....A gentleman....well, yes. I give him that, Scully concedes. He's always been that, but....dear, God, forgive me.... "Attractive?"

She upbraids herself for the hooting that had gently couched itself in her tone of voice. Lislita stops in her tracks and does an about-face.

"You don't think he's attractive?" She looks crestfallen, totally surprised at her cousin's squeaky questions. "I think Langly is... 'como se di'...uh, 'precioso...guapo, si. Guapo.' Uh, handsome, no?"

....*No*....

Scully puckers her mouth after the last essense of juice clears her palate. "Handsome?" She grimaces.

"Cute then."

Scully shrugs, her mind crimps for a moment, as a distant memory rises, then falls. ....Cutie?....

"Well...if you say so, but purely in a highly mathematically sort of...uh geeky way."

Lislita wrinkles her brow. "Geeky? 'Que significa,' geeky?"

"Langly's a geek, Leese," Scully says point-bluntly, blurting the first thought that had deluged her mind. "Even he knows it."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Day. I don't exactly know what means geek, but I don't think 'Tia' Maggie would like hearing you call somebody; especially somebody so thoughtful and nice, something unkind sounding like this geek word."

"Geek's not a bad word. It's used to describe, usually guys, like Langly who are, who." She could see that the foundation of her disparaging explanation wasn't scoring any points with her scowling cousin. "Okay for simplicity's and impartiality's sakes, guys who are socially challanged.

"They're not exactly the kind of guys who make a good impression. Case in point--Langly. Misfits--but I'm not saying it's through any fault of their own, generally, it's just the way it is. C'mon, at least admit that you go out with drop dead good-looking men, Cuz, in your theatrical universe. Not, well, not. Look, excuse my rude, but not men who're mercy dated. Men you HAVE dated like, well you've said so yourself...Luis Miguel, or that other hunky torch singer, uh...Alejandro Fernandez, and a fair assortment of actors and male models. Not like, like--"

"Like Langly? Is that the name you're groping for?"

"I'm sorry, Leese, but I--"

"What you're trying to say is that I shouldn't go out with Langly because he's not good-looking enough? 'Increible!' How can you think that way?"

"No--no, I'm not saying that at all."

"Then, what *are* you saying?"

Scully drops the volume and power of her voice. "I just want you to have a really enjoyable last day here."

This visit wasn't going to end on a sour note if she could help it. HELP IT, she yells at herself.

This *is* Langly we're talking about, after all. Not some total loser. Right? ....I can't hear you....

Yeah, RIGHT.

"I'm sure I will. He's so funny."

....More like funny looking....

But Dana relented, seeing how her cousin had her heart set on a Langly she'd never noticed was so 'appealing' before.

"Then, I guess you will, hon. Only, just don't let him steer conversation solely to his pet conspiracy theories, or his indecipherable technobabble. If you let him, you'll live to regret it."

"Oh, Day...that's okay. Langly is...he's very smart. He's fascinating..." She smiles when his term for something good pops into mind. "He's cool; and very brave."

....Brave?....

Is this Langly she's talking about?

Following the distinctive rolling of her eyes, Scully mutters and acknowledges, more to herself, "Quirky."

She rinses the glass in imitation of her cousin. "And try to get home at a decent hour. Emphasis on 'decent.' You've got an early flight tomorrow."

She's a grown woman, Scully cautions. Where do I get off telling her what to do; who to do it with? I'm not the sickly, bedridden mother she lost long ago. What I am is an uptight loner who needs patheticly-invented excuses to be alone with my FBI-mate in the same bind of justifiable alibi.

"Yes, Mom..." Lislita flashes her feisty cousin her perfectly straight pearly whites, flush with a moral victory. "Don't worry, I won't miss it. Can't afford to if I want to eat this winter. Thanks, Dana."

"Don't thank me, just have a good time."

....Now, that went well, you female version of your paternal paragon of enlightened understanding, Scully overturns in her associative mind.

....Ahab salutes you....have fun, kids...contrition complete.

"Now, let's see," Scully murmurs to herself, watching Lislita pad down the hallway, "think I'll start the day off right with a heaping helping of crow this morning....to be promptly washed down with a steaming hot cup of gall, which never seems to be in short supply."

xXx

Lone Gunmen's Office
7:30 A.M.

"GOD!" More expostulative swearing to flaunt his vespiary temper, then, "Why can't I have the van, huh? WHY? C'mon, how come? Sheeesh!" Langly is bouncing and flouncing, stalking and balking his way about the confines of the walkway between the eating area and the computer workspaces. Final detonation to meltdown imminent. "I need it total big time!" If his buds thought they'd heard him whine in the past, their ears were about to have the mother of all 'whinefests' of all time, inflicted upon them.

"Langly," Frohike warns sharply, "stop whining. Give it a rest already."

He grills Frohike's back with strafing eyes of lethal intensity, down to the final inches of his short fuse. "I'm not messin' this up! No van, no chick. No chick--I go ballistic!" In frustration, he rakes his 'stragglies' until hurting his scalp. "Ouch!"

Frohike pours himself another freshly brewed cup of Mr. Coffee's finest. He doesn't bother to look Langly in the face to make reply. "Get a grip, m'man. First things first. Ya TCB, first, then ya get to party."

"Yeah, Langly. Do us all a big favor." Byers pushes more scrambled eggs onto his fork with the remainder of burnt toast. "WE need the van more, and since you see fit to cast blind eyes to civic responsibilities, majority rules. As always. Duty first."

Langly sees red, and bounds over to stand at Byers' side, toying with the idea of slapping the fork out of his hand.

He doesn't though, and whines some more; only louder, with more sulk. "C'mon, guys...when do I ever ask for special favors?" He grinds the heel of his hand into his multi-creased forehead.

"We've got a source to meet," Frohike reminds him. "That takes priority over your little tryst you're hell- bent to keep with Scully's hotie of a cousin, regardless of the repercussions." He and Byers nod in semi-unison, never straying very far from the same wavelength.

"What repercussions?" Langly wails.

"In the interests of national security? For the common good? Ring a bell?"

"Rant on, Frohike. What about for *my* good, for a change? Why do I always end up with zip in the social arena?"

"We've been together too long for your needing to be reminded, amigo." Sipping, in whimsy, he goes on, "There's also running the risk of alienation. You upset her cousin, and we'll pay the price, which begs for this explanation, 'cos I still don't get it. Exquisite Lislita wanting to make the couple scene with *you*? Maybe she needs glasses too. But regardless, it's like I keep sayin', there is NO justice, man."

....Gasket one set to blow, sir, standing by for number two....

Langly stays the course though, not wanting to give his cohorts the satisfaction of seeing him lose it in the biggest way ever. With a level edge to his voice he replies, "For your information, Lee asked ME out 'cos she likes me. She knows I like her. We got something goin' on. Shocked? That a drop dead gorgeous chick would actually wanna go out with me--or jealous? Huh, 'Hike? That's it--you're buggin' jealous. Ha, ha!" Waxing more churlish, he squawks, "I don't give a rats shiny hiney what you think! I'm takin' the van--gimme the keys. Where are they, 'Hike? You had 'em last. I mean it. I need it. Yo-- I'll hot-wire if I have to, don't make me get freakin' ugly!"

Byers and Frohike look at one another, and then exchange uncomfortable looks with Langly. Neither sides willing to back down. Finally, the shortest of the trio says, "Not this time, buddy."

"Please, guys? How often do I get this lucky?" he whimpers. "Well, I haven't gotten lucky yet, but she might let me..." His fellow hackers sigh, half in recapitulation, half in resignation.

XxXx

Scully's Apartment
9:15 A.M.

Thick apology stains his voice. "Sorry I'm late, Lee. It took awhile getting over here..." Langly looks from Scully to her delectable cousin, then back to Scully with sheepish moue. "Don't have a ride... THEY took it. I had to bus my way over here." He shrugs.

He'd wasted nearly over a half hour more, arguing with the stonewallers, to no avail, and his attempt at hot-wiring had proven to be a dismal failure. "Uh, like, I'm sorry, for bein' late..."

Scully strikes her patented arms folded over her chest pose. She regards him with eyes full of appraisal; her typical patronizing fashion having crested.

Lislita gives him the most radiant smile he's ever seen a kept-waiting woman ever give him in his life. She extends her hand, inviting him inside the immaculate apartment and her good graces, he hopes.

"Why? There's no problem, Langly. Really. You gave Dana and me another chance to reflect back on when we were girls."

"Were girls?" Langly draws a blank. "Then what are you now?"

"When we were *little* girls," his prespective date underscores.

"Oh; oh, yeah...little girls."

They'd rehashed more memories, and Scully had highlighted, feeling obligated to, additional idiosyncrasies which were part and parcel of being his exlusive property.

Those particular oddities familiar to Scully, that is, were outlined in detail before any dear cousin of hers embarked for Langly-land.

"...Back then, we thought we knew everything."

"We *did*," Scully qualifies.

"Like you don't know everything now?" Langly says, sounding genuinely surprised, and when he sees Scully's spikey expression, he wishes he'd kept his mouth shut.

Quickly changing the subject, Lislita says, "I said you'd come, or else you'd call, if you weren't coming. But I knew you would. I'm so glad you're here." She squeezes his upper arm, and he relaxs in proportion to the mystical sense of well-being she engenders within him.

....Knew she'd be cool. She's a livin' doll. You worried for nothin', man....

He lets Lislita seize his hand, with her tugging him gently along. "Oh, yeah, like for sure. I would've called."

Scully hasn't said another word, which makes him uneasy all over again.

"Is it okay, Scully?" Langly asks, as though spot checking.

"Of course. Come in."

Once he's inside, looking squeamish, he hems and haws, "Uh, Scully...do you think like...uh, like maybe you'd let us use your car? Frohike and Byers had to meet this source somewhere in Maryland. They made a point of my NOT being able to use the van."

While Scully mulls this nugget, Lislita nods along with Langly to lend encouragement.

"Like it'd be awesome if we could. I wanna show Lee some of the deeply cool, out of the way places the average visitor'd never hit. Public transportation sucks the big one..."

Scully raises her eyebrow.

"How'bout it, huh? Could you make it happen?"

The word 'no' formed several times in her mind, and was all set to burst from her pouting lips, when her cousin abruptly intercedes...

"Could we, Day? Pretty please...with 'azucar' on top?"

....Like I have a choice?....

"Well, I guess so. Sure." She couldn't allow Lislita having subsequent second thoughts about her equability. Could she? "Help yourselves, by all means."

"Outstanding, Scully!" Langly reachs out to ruffle her shoulder. "We're in!"

"Oh, thank you so much, Day. Sure you won't change your mind about coming along? You and Mulder?"

Langly swallows hard, blinking, and looks as though the worst things imaginable have just happened; as though thieves had broken into the office and ripped off EVERYthing not nailed down.

Or, a sensitive hack getting blown AND traced.

He holds his baited breath.

"That'd be all right with you, isn't it, Langly?" Lislita asks, all round-eyed and innocently.

Stammering, he starts to cover up his true feelings, but Scully cuts him off. "On behalf of an absent Mulder and my present self, I'll decline. Raincheck. Next time." She goes to get the keys which are lying atop her TV.

Upon returning, she interrupts their hushed conversation in a tactful manner. "Now get going, you two," she says, handing the key ring off to an appreciative and relieved Langly.

Relief is splashed all over Langly's face. He snaps the Versace jacket Lislita's putting on, out of her hands, and helps her on with it.

Eagerly then, he follows behind her to the door, and whispers on their way out, "Thanks, Scully, I owe ya a big, fat juicy one. Anytime, anywhere. You name it--ya got it."

She smiles indulgently and softly replies, "Just take good care of my cousin, Langly. That's the greatest favor you can do for me. No...uh, no, shall I say, off-the- wall stuff? Copy that?"

"Off-the-wall? Who? *Me*?" He'd sounded as though she'd meant someone else, even though she was sizing him up dead to rights.

Lislita's face is one big grin, and she laughs the way she did when 'Billy' used to try to scare Dana and her, not Melissa; never Mel, with warty frogs.

As she and Langly walk off arm-in-arm, he tosses over his shoulder, "Thanks again, Scully. Don't sweat it; she's in the best hands..."

....Oh, brother, Scully regresses.

xXx

Arlington Virginia
9:30 P.M.

Pungent white wine glistens on Lislita's supple lips before she swabs them with her tongue. She's never had such a superb vintage before; not too dry, not too sweet. Oh, just so right. A most agreeable complement to end off a special day.

Langly dangles another crispy brown onion ring before her mouth, as though it's bait on a fishhook, and waits for her to nibble it out of his hand, the way she's done the past two times he's dangled.

He'd always dreamed of having a woman eat out of his hand.

Giggling, not from the effects of her second glass of chilled perfection, but largely from the stimulating company's she's keeping, she darts her tongue out to wrangle the greasy prize from his equally greasy forefinger and thumb.

Just as she snags it, she allows Langly to press her further into the deep burgundy plushness of their parqueted booth. His aggressiveness born of a heady acceptance he's never known before; not a sordid desire to see what he can get away with, and disrespecting her.

In bubbly exuberance, Lislita gives him another greasy smooch on the cheek, still chewing.

His ingenuous grin blossoms at the precise moment the weekend warriors couple at the table across from their booth is being wished a very happy 10th wedding anniversary, above the sociable din.

Seeing another oily ring she's left, on his cheek, in the gauzy sub-light of atmosphere, she snatches up his unused napkin with the words, 'Ryan's Pub' embossed on it, and gingerly, with interspersions of more giggling, removes the mess she's made.

"Hey, it's cool, Leese. I like slick."

"I like you..."

She puffs a breath aimed at his forehead, and his baby-fine tendrils flutter in the wake of wine-scented zephyr.

If there were more men like you, 'Langito' in the 'Televisa Novela' world," she meditates, studying the wisdom in his spectacled face, "I wouldn't have had to choose between giving up my acting for my principles and dignity.

"You're such a nice man...not manipulative and diseased in the mind...like so many of the industry's producers and directors are..."

Her shudder is involuntary.

"Hey, are you okay?" He chews on his lower lip. "I'm sorry...I know I'm gettin' carried away. See...I'm not too good with beautiful chicks."

Lislita giggles.

"Snap, I, I...I'm; well, er, I'm not good with chicks in general. What I mean is...I'm not wildly popular with the ladies."

He winces, hearing a Frohike-ish sentiment, if he ever heard one, having snuck in there.

"...I kinda suck with chicks."

Lislita taps the tip of his nose with hers.

Weighing his chances, he brings her hand up to his lips, and kisses her velvety knuckles.

She hiccups, giggling some more. "You suck chicks?"

"NO--I suck *with* 'em. I'm a strike-out artist from way back." His tone turns cold. "'Capice?' I'm not a ladies' man..."

"I apologize for making you feel sad."

"Who said you're makin' me sad?"

"I wish I didn't feel sad."

"Sad? You're having the total opposite effect on me." Frowning, he coaxes, "Why d'ya feel sad? Did I do something before to upset ya?"

"No--no--no!" She bites her lip, fearing she'd gotten too loud. "No," she says breathily. "I threw my acting career away."

"Say what?"

Following her leaden sigh, "I'm in Miami to make a fresh start. My acting opportunities in Mexico ...ruined..."

"Ruined? But, you're so talented. Unreal...how come?"

"I'm thought of as uncooperative."

Langly sits up straighter, and eyes her thoroughly.

"Uncooperative? You? That's gotta be bogus."

"Guilty, as charged. 'Ay, que mala onda'...I wouldn't--won't trade sex; I couldn't--can't sleep with all those men. Those influential users."

As Langly continues to stare, a million impulses course through him. Comfortingly, "Kazaam--that's radical. Guess playin' ball like that makes the world work in most areas. I'm real sorry, Leese..."

Huffily, "I am too, for things being the way they are. I'm not sorry I didn't do it. 'Popi'" Langly thought, then remembered.... her dad....

"Has instilled within me his pride. When I give my body, it will be given in love, to that special man, because *I* have decided he will have it, because I love him, and want only him. I'll see if I can launch a singing career here, as I said."

....She's naive; but she's so beautiful....

Langly rubs his index finger against her neck, smiling, unable to suppress thinking that the music scene isn't much different.

Even more impressed, however, he declares, "You're a total mindblower."

"Mindblower? What means mindblower?"

He squeezes her hand which is still locked in his grip. "You do. You buck the tide. Other chicks in your position might not have had the stamina to book in your shoes like that. That's nectar, man."

"It's a hard decision. Acting is my first love, but I did what my heart knew was the right thing for me to do. I'll never regret my decision, but I still feel sad..."

Gently, he kisses her forehead. "Yeah, it stinks...it's so NOT fair! Women having to put up with so much shi--crap!" For her genteel sake, he self- expurgated.

He gets lost in her penetrating gaze for several contemplative moments, falling hard under her spell. His tongue decides to get operative again.

"I know this is gonna sound so dumb...so heavily lame, but...I think..." He clears his throat until it's scratchy. "I think I'm...what I mean is...I'm..."

Langly blinks himself back to this reality, having visited deep space in the wink of an eye, and decides to finish what he thought was so urgent a moment ago, regardless of the consequences.

"I think I'm like...falling in love with you..."

For a fragmented moment, following a profound gulp, the impulse to tear himself out of the booth and make a break for the door is powerful.

However, summoning up courage he never knew he had, from somewhere, he stays rooted beside her, waiting for her to say he's the worst kind of head case.

"Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm mental. Forget--"

"No..."

A waking smile basks on her glistening lips. "'Precioso.' That's what you are."

"Nah, I'm the most pathetic loser on this third rock from the sun. That's what I am." He pulls his security blanket of sarcasm up to his eyeballs to peek above it at her. "MAN, what a total jerk!"

She recalls the conversation with her cousin, and sighs, shaking the disagreeable recollection off. "You're cheeks are so red."

His right hands flies up to his burning left cheek. Its descent halts only when it reaches his clavicle.

Langly snorts, trying false bravado on for size. "How many guys have you been out with for the first time squeak out they love you already?"

You'd be surprised, she thought, grinning.

"Talk about major league lame--meet the MVP. Only a terminal nobody like me, who's had about one real girlfriend in his unnatural life would say something so pathetic--that's who!"

"'Calmate...esta bien'...it's... you're...not--"

"I need serious mental help. I'm an emotional wuss. I'm fatally hopeless, like Frohike says...a total waste case!"

Lislita sighs in indulgence. When she senses that his rant has run its course, she lifts his chin with gentle fingers to assuage, "If you need, 'serious mental help'..."

Langly begins assisting her fingers in lifting his ken level with her soulful eyes.

"...Because of what you're feeling, and the need to tell me, then may I join you for counseling, when I tell you I'm feeling the same for you?" Her snickering is bubbly, and with a lopsided grin, she insists, "I don't allow just any man to feed me crunchy rings of onions."

She squeezes his icy hand.

"Maybe this is happening all too quickly, but I believe in your feelings. You're special..."

"Yeah, *special* as in, 'oh grow up. I like you as a friend..."

"Could I be your's? Your's...as in *your's*?"

Langly does a double take. "If I'm not hearing you right," he chokes, "bop me."

She kisses his cheek lightly. "How was that?"

"Tempting."

"Why do you think I went to the store with you in the first place?"

He shrugs, but keeps his startled expression alive and well. "You had me stumped 'cos you said you wanted to. Then I figured maybe you needed gum or something."

"Oh, you are priceless, 'precioso.' Being so close to you in the van the way we were...it was almost electric. Then...you saved my life..."

"Wait, I got a pin. If I'm dreamin', stick me with it."

"'Ay, Dios mio,' you are irresistible." She couldn't tell though if he was still being hard on himself, or expecting her to really stick him with a pin.

He gathers the girl of sugar-spun fantasies into his arms; every inch of his body craving her. He kisses her strong and deep until she thinks she will explode.

After a good two, closer to two and a half minutes, he lets her up for air.

"Sorry, babe," Langly apologizes sheepishly, "I know. Dumb glasses always get in the way. Did I hurt your face? Man, my kissing sucks."

"You use that suck word a lot..."

"It means I kiss lousy."

"If that's how you really feel, you have my unconditional permission to practice on me all you wish. My pleasure."

Glee gushes all over his face. "Mine more."

Poised to avail himself of her labial bounty, he starts making another move on her, when a boisterous, resonant female voice interrupts.

"And who's this looker you're about to inflict oral assault on, Mister Starr?"

When he shifts around to confront the familiar possessor of that intruding voice, she commends, "Awesome T-shirt, guy. You know something the rest of us don't?"

Langly brushes his fingers over the ominous, 'Reboot: Y2K is Near!' slogan scrawled across his pects. "Nope, but at least if it all goes to hell on the stroke of midnight, can't say you weren't warned. Byers, 'Hike and me got our collective act together, though. We rigged all our systems with a dedicated, lockout worm fail-safe bundle two years ago. That way, if the stuff hits the fan--"

"Spare me the gory details, please. Your techno-jive talkin' was Mory's thing, God rest his soul. Never mine. Don't have the head for it. I'd much rather know who your lovely lady friend is, Foureyes." The fiftish proprietess, who'd been keeping a bead on the pair throughtout most of the evening from her lair behind the bar, winks meaningfuly.

"That's Ida's nickname for me, Leese," Langly fills in the blank when she asks what the buxom woman just called him. "Ida Ryan, this is...uh, Lee, would you mind saying your name? I don't say it right, and it's way too pretty for me to mess up like you've heard me do already."

"Lislita..." and leaving out the intervening nomenclature for brevity's sake, she cheerily pads, "Marti. I'm visiting from Miami. I'm happy to meet you, 'senora.'" She profers her hand. It's heartily shaken.

"My, but you're a pretty thing, honey. How'd you ever come to meet up with the likes of Langly?"

"Ha, ha, thanks, Eye." Muttering, "Thanks a heap..."

"Don't mention it, Foureyes. You haven't been in here with someone of the female persuasion for ages. I was begining to think you'd switched preferences." While Langly rolls his eyes, the merry widow laughs resoundingly.

Lislita waits till she's done unburdening herself. "Langly and I have a mutual acquaintance in common. Dana Scully. Believe it or not, she's my cousin. Do you know her?"

"Scully! Do I know Scully?" Ida fairly bellows. "Oh, yes indeedy, dearie. Nigh on for seven years, now. Kindred spirits, we are. I'm thrilled to meet a relative. She and that Mulder of hers, not to mention Langly and his partners in crime are regulars here. And, speaking of here, the ol' joint hasn't been this jumpin' in a long time. And, guess what?"

"What?" Langly asks, feeding some unknown need to be mindful.

"Lacy up an' quit on me day before yesterday. Went to L.A. to see if she could break into movies." Ida wags her head back and forth demonstratively. "I wished her all the luck in the world, but, personally, I don't think her chances are all that great for breaking into a real tough business. Aside from which she's a powderpuff, and I don't think her acting's all that. She once invited me to see her in this play..." Looking about, the owner divulges, "I'm sorta strapped for live entertainment tonight of the vocal kind. Which's why the patrons are more restless than usual. If anything close enough to a singer walked through that door right now, I'd kiss his or her feet, and plunk 'em on stage!"

"I'm a singer," Lislita says in a small, wispy voice, clearing her throat.

Ida looks as if she's just come down with a severe case of the 'gimmies'. "Get out!"

Lislita glances sidelong at Langly and he supplies, "She can't believe what you just said. Stay where you are." The young women reseats herself.

"Are you any good, honey?"

"Is she any good?" To his friend, towering over them, Langly confirms with twinkling eyes, "I've heard her. She's savory. Let her sing. She'll prove it."

Ida nods. "Hey, I'm game. Would you wanna get up and sing for the crowd tonight, hon? You'd be doing me a mega favor, love...if you're what he says you are."

Langly takes her hand, and follows it up by whispering something in her ear which makes her smile.

Still looking a tad hesitant, though, Lislita distantly agrees. "'Si.' I'll do it..." It might be a useful preliminary before my cruise engagements, she figures. "Does your band know--"

"The band knows practically anything you ask 'em to play, honey," Ida guarantees.

Langly gives her a fortifying hug to give her confidence, then steps out of the booth to let her out.

Ida takes Lislita under her ample sleeveless wing as the women head off in the direction of the animated stage with the three-man, and one woman band cranking away. Langly looks on in effluent approbation, a good deal of pride having welled up.

"Knock 'em dead, Leese," he roots, "just like you did me...last night..."

xXx

Ryan's Bar and Bistro
11:55 P.M.

"How do you think I was?" Lislita directs to Langly, back at their booth. He has his arm slung around her damp shoulders. He's drawing little, light circles on the moist skin of her upper arm; then, gives her some light pats.

Hearing the hoarseness in her voice, she takes up the glass of sparkling water he'd had the forethought to order for her and quenchs her rampant thirst. So many requests, from all the audience's quadrants, there'd been.

"Since I'm already an avid fan, you're only gonna get bias from me, But, I gotta say that for beltin' em out for close to two solid hours, you were smokin'!"

"Smokin'? That's a good thing? Yes?" she asks, sounding not very sure of anything.

Seconds before he gets to answer, a youngish, salt and pepper-pated well-wisher interrupts, sounding all revved up, "Miss, you were wonderful."

Her tall, auburn-haired male companion corroborates, with a bit of a brogue, "Exceptional. I've never heard, 'When Irish Eyes Are Smiling' sung quite so poignantly in my entire forty years. It's no wonder that rendition was the showstopper. You're brilliant, to be sure."

Langly casts them looks of gratitude, and kisses Lislita's temple. "Hear that? You're a hit, kid. No doubt."

"As long as you liked me," she whispers into his ear.

Roisterously, Ida is working her way to the ruck of patrons clustered at their lively booth. She parts several bodies to congratulate, "Honey, if you're looking for a job, I'll say you passed the interview with flying colors. They're crazy about ya. *I'm* crazy 'bout ya. Those Spanish numbers you did sounded so beautiful. You're hired--how about it?"

Lislita doesn't say a thing, fidgeting, and gives Langly a look of, 'now what?'

He picks up on it, and makes amends for her. "Yo, Eye, she'll have to get back to you on the job offer. She's singing for Carnival--"

"Hey, she'd be better off singing for me, than singing in some stale carnival, Foureyes," Ida remonstrates. "She's a quality act."

"Not *that* kind of carnival," Langly asserts. His eyeballs look as if they're rolling over. "Carnival, as in the cruise line. She's doing their shows till February." He looks to Lislita and she confirms that he got it right, nodding.

"Oh, well, hey. That's nice, honey, but tell you what...if you'll be needin' a job when you finish with them, come back. Okay? I'll put you on weekends even if I've hired somebody in the interim." Ida, having put the offer on the table, and wholly satisfied with herself, and with Langly to a degree, for having had the presence of mind to have brought such talent to her doorstep, beams.

"Thank you for your kind offer, Mrs. Ryan..."

"It's Ida, hon, and you're quite welcome." She extracts herself from the congestion, whose constituents are still bestowing accolades. As she goes through the motions of returning to the bar to oversee the final preparations for closing, she tosses over her shoulder, "But, think it over, okay?"

Lislita raptly nods, her infectious grin in tandem, indicating she might consider it.

Seeing by the old Portsmouth clock on the far wall that it's quarter past midnight, Langly judges that if he gets Lislita back any later than one o'clock, Scully'll have his head.

"Think it's time we blow this place," he nudges into her ear. "Cool?"

"Whatever you say."

Once standing in the balmy night air, and breathing freer, shy of the establishment's cloying closeness, it takes Langly a few moments to remember where he parked the Saturn.

Nodding in certainty then, after some embarrassing hesitation, he starts them off then, but not before he asks, "Had a good time?"

"Had a great time. I especially liked those large black walls with the names you took me to. There were so many names..."

"Paying homage to Frohike and his long lost 'Nam buddies, and yeah. There are. Way too many. Some fiasco they were the victims of." He heaves a sigh. "Man, am I feeling raggedy right now. Not enough sleep last night, I guess..." He grins at her, then glances down at his Converses, and purses his lips. "I couldn't get you outta my head."

Lislita nods, knowing exactly what he means. "Thank you for making everything so perfect...so magical. Exactly what you are..."

He purses his lips harder, and mutters, with his eyes still scraping the pavement, "We'll haveta to it again sometime..."

"We will."

"Promise?"

She nods as he lifts his head and he drifts closer to her.

As though she were made of porcelain this time, he kisses her.

They ease apart, and her hands frame his face; he sighs. She traces the outline of his cheeks with her thumbs. He closes his eyes, trembling between them.

After some additional magical moments, they disengage their lips.

Langly takes her hand, and they head due east for the silvery six-cylinder chariot.

xXx

12:42 A.M.

"Oh, CRAP..." Langly looks around, his heart pounding through savage beats. "I'd swear this is where we left it! Near the southwest corner of this street." But, maybe not. He had no problem with algorithmic relationships. Spatial and geographical ones, however, were another story, altogether. "What the fu--"

"But it's true, we *did* leave it here." Lislita clutches his arm, and hears his whimper. "Right here. I remember these large black satchels by the curb where we left it."

Langly uses the curse he was going to use a second ago. He lowers his eyes then, hearing his failure at striving to keep his mouth clean, at least for this evening, ring in his ears. "It's called garbage, which is how I'm feelin' right now!"

"Whatever's happened, it's *not* your fault. Please?" She strokes his arm determinedly, while he refuses to quit grumbling. "Where do you suppose it is?"

Langly looks paralyzed. The cooler breeze zips right through his denim jacket, and he shudders.

"You're guess is as good as mine, if I know. If you're sure we left it here, then the car's been ripped! Why in all hell did I park here???"

"Ripped?"

"Ripped-off. Stolen, by professional thieves, or just kids with nothing better to do, even, goin' for a freakin' joy ride."

He kicks the pavement; the ball of his foot smarts in response.

"By the time I get you home, and Scully gets hit with the word, it'll only be by a miracle the dimensions of Godzilla, she doesn't string me up by my ba..."

He smiles a sicky smile of painful mockery, opting for a less graphic word, although the one he was going to use sticks stubbornly in mind.

"Craptacular!!!" He takes in his date's lost look wordlessly. "C'mon, let's go before we get mugged..."

xXx

Dulles Airport Expressway 7:00 A.M.

From the van's lumpy bench seat, in back, Scully reiterates for the third redundant time, "Look, Langly, stop beating yourself up about it." The special agent casts dubious eyes at him. "I should have gotten the anti-theft device fixed, but I kept putting it off." She pats his shoulder again, and notices he winces. Their eyes meet in the review mirror. He's in the throes of negotiating an easy switch into the far right hand lane to make the exit for United's terminal. "So just stop already, 'Kay? The Saturn's tagged with the Bureau. They'll locate it, no matter how long it takes to. The FBI always recovers its vehicles. The track record's amazing. So, to coin a phrase, be cool."

"Sure," Langly says after a moment or so of deliberation. "Only, if I were you, I still wouldn't get my hopes up about seeing it again. Even as we speak, it may already be chopped up, or stripped clean down to the chassis for parts."

Lislita angles around in the front seat and gives her cousin, sitting pretty, smack dab in the center of the springy seat, a warm smile. She's a lot more relieved now, than when she and Langly had trooped back to Scully's in the wee hours of this morning.

Scully hadn't been as ticked off as they'd both feared, by their slinking in with only two hours to spare till the crack of dawn.

"That's one of the things I adore so much about Langly, Dana," Lislita whizzes in, "he's always looking on the brighter side..." Her eyes are pari passu orbs of mischief.

"Who, me?"

"You've noticed that too, huh?" Scully tosses into the conversational frying pan. "The perennial paranoidal optimist. That's Langly."

"Yo, watch that paranoid stuff. Want me to get a complex?"

"*Get a complex*?' Since when hasn't it been full-blown?" Scully needles.

"Wow...and I thought I had the cover-up down, man."

Scully chuckles again. "Although, I must admit...when you guys hadn't shown up by three A.M., I was ready to summon the National Guard. So, I guess it's true what they say..."

"What do THEY say?" Langly pitches, hyper-inquisitively.

"Paranoia will destroy ya..."

"I'll haveta remember that." He eases his grip on the steering wheel. "But, like don't forget...we were bookin' all the way back from Arlington. Wanna know how many buses it takes to get from there to your place?" Narrowly, he misses the bumper of an airport shuttle bus ahead of them.

Lislita looks askance at him, smiling. He balloons his cheeks, then noisily deflates them.

"Uh, not really," Scully assures, and does a time check with her wristwatch. "I'll take you at your tone that it's got to be some staggering figure."

"Well, not exactly staggering, but it took four. That's kinda a lot, right?"

"Why didn't you catch a cab?"

"It wasn't happenin'. Nobody wanted to stop. Maybe they had something weird against blonds." Scully considers what he's just said. "Anyway, we were lucky to make the right connections. I'm just glad we got back when we did."

"It was fun; every step of the way. Now I can say I really had the grand tour," Lislita insists, without a hint of reservation, smacking him with the widest of grins.

Langly, for a speedy second, removes his eyes from the roadbed. He shoots her an affectionate sideways glance, wishing oh, so very hard she wasn't leaving today.

They'd talked up a storm about scads of things, but there was a lot more ground that had to be covered. Just not enough time; not nearly enough to bask in her fineness.

The end of January was a long, iffy way off. Too much time for him to miss feeling her in his arms, and kissing her tender lips; her tender everything.

Who knew if he'd even be able to get away then, if Y2K made everything go bust? Seeing her again might not be possible for ages....bummer!

Something is definitely in the air, Scully judges, as she eyes them cagily, giving each other furtive peeks, speculating. She mandates that she won't label it love...but, she wouldn't be surprised though, and she sighs, studying the back of her cousin's smallish head.

Lislita was....Langly this, and Langly that, never grabbing a wink of sleep for herself, as she kept going on and on about their event- filled day.

He'd arrived with the van at about six-fifteen, because he'd promised her he'd drive her to the airport. How he'd managed to procure the vehicle, without the other Gunmen coming along for the ride, he hadn't said.

"Trying real hard not to sound like a spoilsport here," Langly says. Then, to add serious leverage, he gives Lislita a visual tweak. "We sure as blazes could've done without being car theft victims." Playfully, she winks back at him. "Guess we should count ourselves lucky not being victims of a carjacking, though."

"See. It's all in how you look at things," Scully tosses in. He is pulling them up in front of the frenetic United terminal. "I thought you were going to park..."

"Yeah, me too. I got mixed-up and goofed," he says, sounding contrite. Mentally, he whips himself for getting the two off-ramp exits confused. "Sorry," he mutters. "Look, I'll plant my good-byes here. 'Bye." He reaches over, and makes a long-range grab for Lislita.

She frowns, shaking her head in denial, and rears back from him.

"What?"

"I want you to come with me to the gate."

"But there's just not enough time, Leese."

"Yes there is!!"

"No, there isn't!"

Her frown jells into a full scale pout. Langly tries to make light of the whole thing. "Your face's gonna stay that way, despite its being beyond pretty. Next time, huh? We'll have plenty of time to do sayin' g'bye right..."

....Next time(?) Scully ponders, coming forward on the seat.

"No, 'mi amor'..." Lislita pouts every bit as masterfully as Scully does; reknowned Bureau-wide, for her pouty facial gymnastics. "No--I don't want to leave you like this."

"Check. I know the feeling..."

"I want you right there for the final, final good-byes..."

Pragmatically he clinches, "I hear ya, but, Scully's the one who should be there with you. Not me. She's *family*. C'mon now. Okay? You've got a lotta hustling to do. You still haveta get yourself checked in and scrambling to the gate. You can't miss your flight? You've got fifteen minutes to get yourself aboard that plane, so like I said, later--"

"No!" Lislita insists, looking as ornery as a mule sinking in quicksand, not moving a muscle.

"Unreal!" Langly stares at her, incredulous she is being so stubborn. "Like, please?" These Scully babes, man--phew--he reflects, as another two minutes are lost to history.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Scully intervenes between the soon to be separated couple, with this sudden thorn between them. With a knowing look on her face, she smiles.

Anyone with even twenty/forty vision can see they're really sold on each other. Her subconscious prods. No, I *don't* need to be reminded....Langly and my cousin? I'll really have to think about this....

Byers and Leese, I could see, maybe, but she and supergeek? What am I missing here?

"Guys, how about this? I'll stay with the van." Langly switches around in his seat in a flash, preparing to re-open his mouth in protest. "It's okay, Langly. You go with Leese. Get her luggage squared away, then get her to the gate. *I'll* say my good-byes here."

"But, Scully..."

"But nothing, Langly."

"Oh, thank you, Dana." Lislita flings herself at her cousin and hugs Scully for all she's worth. Through the shower of kisses, the traveler effuses, "I love you *so* much, 'primita.'"

"That goes double for me, Cuz."

"Are you sure, Scully?" Langly fires at the FBI agent who has her arms wrapped around her bouncing relative.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"If you're carryin' your badge, you could flash it so they won't hassle ya about leaving the van unattended. Then we could all go."

Scully sneers at the very notion of his suggestion. "Can't do that. I try to play by the rules as best I can. What if all FBI Agents flashed their badges around for unofficial reasons? Who'd take us seriously when there's a *real* emergency? What right do I have to inconvenience other folks?"

"Good questions, but Mulder says--"

Scully grimaces, and Langly shrinks in the seat. "Yeah, I know what Mulder says. He tells me often enough, when he thinks I'm being little Miss Rule Book. But now's not the time, nor place to get into Mulder's private fantasy world of procedural make-believe. Get her bag, Blondie, and hop to. That's an unofficial order!"

"Like, I'm so gone..."

The cousins exchange another brace of embraces, glad to have shared what time they'd had together.

"I'll call tonight, Leese."

"Think about taking a cruise real soon, Dana. Discuss it with Langly. We've already made tentative plans..."

*That* raises both her eyebrows.

Langly's face contorts a little; the being on pins and needles look he's got down pat.

Scully watches her winsome cousin link arms with the lanky beanpole, who dutifully has the rollie in tow now, and who is saddled with unruly locks currently gallivanting in the stiff breeze. She shrugs.

Leese and Langly? Stranger than any fiction I've ever read, or investigated....

She nods, when another novel thought hits....

I wonder if we Scullys could handle having a dyed-in-the-wool, conspiracy theory-loving, authentically eccentric hacker in the family? *That* would spark a rise out of 'Tia' Maggie's eyebrows too, and Bill would jet propel himself through the roof the way he does when I'm in Mulder's company.

If time will tell....I'm certainly not going to.... especially when it comes out that Langly and Mulder are very old friends....

Suddenly, a fleet-footed airport traffic attendant is vying for her attention, at the driver's side. Carrying a fire-red stop sign, he pre-emptorily tells her to move along.

xXx

Security Gate Checkpoint
7:25 A.M.

"You're really gonna haveta book if you're gonna make it, girl! They're gonna leave without ya!"

"No they won't--and I love you more! I'll call you as soon as I'm home."

"Cool. Now get goin', or I'll carry you on board myself."

"Ooooh, I'd like that, 'muchisimo.' Very much!"

"You are wack, and so totally gorgeous, in more ways than the obvious. Man, I'm gonna miss you. Not seeing ya for so long's gonna be hard."

"Ma'am, I'll need to see your ticket, please."

"Oh, 'si', sure. Here it is..." She mashes her passage into the critical-looking woman's outstretched hand.

"Purse on the conveyor, and step through this way," the automatous- sounding employee directs.

Suddenly, Lislita's eyes are brimming with plentiful tears, as she turns from the x-ray machine to Langly.

"I..."

"Yo, none of those," he tells her firmly, but feels some wet 'weirdness' going on behind his glasses, as well. "We'll see each other again; real soon--promise. I'll be in Miami two months from now, before you really get to miss me. I swear."

"Please, keep it moving, ma'am..."

"I love you..." She looks back to him again, and runs the wrong way out of the metal detector, oblivious to the other perspective passengers jockeying to get to their gates.

She molds herself to him one last time. Reluctantly, he has to peel her away.

His cheeks are burning. They're the hub of causing a curious scene.

He whispers into her shimmery hair, "Use my e-mail addy. Depending on whether or not--most likely *not*, 'cos the capability's still not there, you're able to receive 'em shipboard. I'll keep those e-mails comin'. Okay?"

Too overcome by emotion, she can't speak.

**FINAL BOARDING FOR FLIGHT 1013 NON-STOP TO MIAMI**

"Go--git!"

"I love you," she manages to choke out, finally. Her arms wreathe his neck for the last time.

Langly separates himself from her in slow stages as he passes his thumb to and fro over the polka dot beauty mark hugging the right corner of her chin.

"I love you too. I really do. We'll talk tonight..."

In transfixion, he watches her streak down the wide terminal corridor; long auburn strands flying, her shoulder bag banging her every which way as she flies.

Every few moments she turns back around and waves frantically.

It's not until she reaches the gate proper, when she slows down. She throws him a kiss, whose motion threatened to throw her back out.

When she waves again, he knows it's for the last time. He sniffs and flicks the fleshy base of his thumb over his nose.

The ticket taker stationed at the point of flight entry accepts her proof of purchase with a professional smile.

Lislita casts a final look in his direction...and then...she's gone...

Sighing, Langly removes his glasses to dry off the moistened lenses.

He mutters a curse, and thinks.... knew this would happen....I *hate* these types of good-byes....they put me through the emotional wringer every time.

After he sets his specs back in place, he srubs his stubbly cheeks with an open hand, still staring at the last place she was; missing her by leaps and bounds.

He takes a few unthinking steps backward, getting a sense of her being very long gone; and it's only been less than two minutes so far.

Her phone number, and Carnival's company e-mail address are stuck in his memory like hardened cement.

Nothing short of his suffering severe trauma to the head will bring on his forgetting anything about her.

He's about to turn away, but decides to look back one last time.

What the!!!!

He's seeing things; that's got to be it. It can't be--he's still wearing his glasses.

Eyes playing tricks? Very easy to think so from this distance, but no--she's coming back. She's tearing back; exactly the same way she did when she went!

She's running away from where she'd just gone.

Before he can think that it's his mind playing tricks on him, not his eyes, he hears her proclaim after slamming into him, "I can't, 'mi amor.' Not like this; not right now. Now, I need to be with you."

Then she's hugging him tight, her head resting atop his shoulder, as her rollie tips over, against his leg.

"But, you can't just ditch your commitment," Langly gently reminds her, crushing her against himself; she filling his heart, not just his arms. "Won't you be in deep shi--uh trouble for not showing up? Your contract..."

Lislita eases out of his arms to look up into his bemused face; her eyes steeped in smoldering mischief, fueling her passion.

"Will I *be* in trouble?" She makes her lips one with his, then after the torrid kiss of desire, soughs into them, "I'm *in* deep trouble...already."

Langly nods in full accord, having considerable difficulty focusing clearly. He has, however, no trouble deciphering her meaning.

He makes room for her on cloud nine...

Nuzzling her nose with his, he says, "Yeah, me too, only this is the kind of trouble I've been dreamin' 'bout for a long, long time..."

"Dana will think I'm crazy."

Langly laughs in-between the little kisses he's planting on her forehead. "Well, she already knows *I* am. C'mon, let's show her how crazed we can be *together*..."

xXx

The End.