You guessed it. Daniel's place was a dance club populated almost entirely by gay men and a few lesbians. I spent the first part of the evening sipping a Singapore Sling at the bar and politely refusing come-ons from leather-clad ladies, while Mulder and Daniel sat in a dark corner drinking beer, necking like teen- agers and laughing like idiots.

They didn't ignore me; they never do, even when I know perfectly well that I'm in their way. It's just that this was their time, their place, their all-too-rare chance to let go and be themselves, and I was again the outsider.

It reminded me -- as if I needed reminding -- that no matter how much they love me or enjoy my company, they are the couple and I am the friend.

I danced with each of them once, though, and they danced with each other a few times; a very few, thank goodness. I love them, but I have to tell you, Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly they're not.

They were so happy together.

And I was so alone.

Maybe that was why he noticed me.

I was seated at the bar, sipping at my second disgustingly sweet drink -- that's a trick of mine to keep from drinking too fast -- when he came and sat down beside me.

He was tall and dark-haired, and he was incredibly good-looking, but then so were a lot of the men in that place, and I wasn't paying any more attention to him than I did to the others. There didn't seem to be much future in it.

"You alone?" he said, smiling at me.

"Not really," I said, nodding toward Mulder and Daniel. "I'm here with friends."

"Ah," he said, knowingly. "That's pretty much the same thing as being alone in a place like this, isn't it?"

I shrugged. "That depends on how you look at it."

"I look at it that you appear to be straight," he said, mildly enough. "Which, from what I can tell, makes two of us."

I really looked at him then for the first time. A straight man in this place? What was he doing here?

My expression must have showed what I was thinking, because he laughed. "Same thing you're doing here," he said, jerking his head toward a woman in a blue satin dress who was dancing with another woman in black jeans and a leather jacket. "That's my sister."

"Oh," I said, and I felt my face flush for some reason I couldn't explain. Then I smiled at him.

"I'm Dana Scully," I said, holding out my hand.

"Josh Larrimore," he said, taking my hand in his own.

And then he smiled at me again. A crooked smile, a half smile, a smile that showed off his beautiful, beautiful hazel eyes ...

"May I have this dance, Miss Scully?" he said, and I felt my heart begin to melt.

~~~~~~

Josh turned out to be a pretty good dancer, and while I don't dance much, myself, he was a strong partner and easy to follow. We danced until we were both exhausted, then we sat down to rest for a while. I got another drink -- my third, which is over my limit, but I reasoned that I had tomorrow off and I certainly wasn't driving home.

Josh told jokes, told me about himself -- he was an ex-cop turned martial arts instructor, which I found kind of interesting. I told him what I do, which I don't usually at a first meeting. I figured, though, that since he'd been on the job, he wouldn't be put off by it.

He wasn't, either, although he did refer to me, maybe a little derisively, as a feebie.

I don't usually put up with that kind of remark, but this time, I just laughed.

Mulder and Daniel saw us, I know. I saw Daniel nudge Mulder, and after that they were both watching, sometimes covertly, sometimes blatantly, almost staring.

"I think your boyfriends are jealous," Josh said, laughing. "Don't they let you go out with straight guys?"

"It's not up to them who I go out with," I said, feeling -- for some reason -- a little annoyed. Not at Josh -- at the guys.

That was a new thing.

"I don't think they know that," Josh said, as I continued to watch them watching me. He was right -- Mulder and Daniel were acting for all the world as though someone was poaching on their private domain.

Josh might have found it funny, but I found it extremely irritating. Every time he'd make another joke about their possessive behavior, I'd get more and more annoyed; after an hour or so of it, I was ready to go tell them both off.

Or just forget about them and go off on my own.

That was when I realized what was happening: for the first time, I found myself wanting more than anything in the world to come out of my own little closet.

In retrospect, I can see that I was very tired that night: tired of blood and mutilations and death, tired from traveling, tired from the multiple autopsies and the paperwork that went with them and tired of the constant vigilance that my work demands.

But more than that, I was tired of being left out, tired of being loved and kissed and held but never wanted, tired of the hopelessness of being so much in love with two gay men who might care deeply for me but who could never be more to me than dear friends.

None of that was their fault. As I've said, they both did all they could to make me a part of their lives and to give me of themselves whatever they could, but it just wasn't enough.

For almost two years I had dealt with it in my own strange fashion. At night, I had picked up strangers in bars, screwed them and sent them on their way; in the daylight, I played the Virgin Dana and pretended it had never happened.

Always, I behaved around Daniel and Mulder as though sex was the furthest thing from my mind.

Well, it wasn't.

And somehow, in that moment, under the influence of the night, the music and the sloe gin, I decided that was all Mulder and Daniel's fault. So I decided I would show them a thing or two. If Mulder and Daniel were going to watch me, they were going to see me in full sexual bloom.

I wanted to act, for once, like a woman who just might get laid by the man she was with.

So I flirted, I laughed out loud, I tossed my hair, I touched Josh's arm, I made silly, girlish, flattering remarks and I moved as seductively as I knew how when we were dancing, especially on the slow dances. I was perspiring, breathing heavily, feeling drunk on the liquor and on the even more intoxicating pleasure of being openly, unabashedly sexual.

It was a giddy, almost mindless feeling.

When Mulder and Daniel got up to leave around midnight, I told them I was staying.

Mulder frowned at that.

"Scully, you don't really know this guy," he said, taking me aside for a moment. "You really shouldn't let him drive you home. And I think maybe he's had more to drink than is good for him, too."

"You know something, Mulder?" I said, slurring my words just a little. "It's none of your business who I go out with. I already know him better than I've known any of the other men I've fucked in the past two years, and I know him one hell of a lot better than you used to know those boys you picked up at the bars."

Well, that was low. I wasn't too drunk to realize that. Under any other circumstances, I would have apologized and tried to make it up to him, but tonight, I didn't care. But he was still Mulder, and he still loved me, and he was going to give it one more try.

"You're right, Scully," he said, more quietly. "Your sex life is none of my business. But there's something about this guy that I can't put my finger on, something that makes my antennae go up. I just want you to be careful."

"Mulder, I am every bit as qualified to evaluate a person's character as you are, even if you are the big-shot profiler," I said, carelessly. "You and Daniel just run along and I'll see you at the airport in the morning, okay?"

He started to say something else, but I wouldn't let him. I was drunk, and I was tired of his eternal jealousy of any man who might come into my life. The fact that Josh had noticed was proof positive that I wasn't imagining it.

"Just go, Mulder," I said, coldly. "Just go do whatever you're going to do with Daniel and I'll go do what I'm going to do with Josh, and I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

With that, I turned my back on him and walked back over to Josh. Slowly, deliberately, so I was sure Mulder could see, I put my arms around Josh's neck, pressed my body against him, slithered into his lap and kissed him.

The kiss went on for a while, and I felt Josh's hands moving all over me, lifting my sweater and sliding under it, and I was getting so hot it's a wonder I didn't melt down.

That kiss was public seduction, outright heterosexual foreplay for the entertainment of the staring gay masses, and I felt a perverse pleasure in being so blatantly straight, so obviously my own woman and not just Mulder's tagalong.

This is the real me, Mulder, I remember thinking; this is what I look like when I'm getting ready to do it, when I'm being touched by a man who wants me, who is hungry for me. What do you think of that?

I never found out. When I finally came up for air, Mulder was gone.

~~~~~~~~~

Josh must have ditched his sister, too, because we left right after that. We went to his apartment and I could scarcely get under him fast enough.

God, he was good. It seemed to be a point of pride with him to make me climax over and over, and he had incredible staying power. I mean, it lasted so long that I finally had to beg him to stop, which -- strangely enough -- seemed to please him.

I, for my part, was absolutely exhausted and more than a little drunk. I fell asleep in Josh's bed. I slept so late I almost missed my flight back to Washington the next morning.

I didn't wake up, in fact, until the Miami police called to see if I was still alive. Mulder had filed a missing-officer report on me.

I couldn't figure out why he had done that, or how the Miami police had managed to find me so quickly, but I supposed Mulder had run Josh's tag or something. At any rate, the Miami folks didn't have any trouble at all figuring out where I might be.

It didn't surprise me at all that they moved on that report so fast, though. As I'm sure you're aware, a missing-officer report always gets fast results from any law-enforcement office. We take care of each other. Any cop on earth will drop almost anything to respond to a report of an officer missing, or an officer in trouble of any kind.

Mulder's report got fast results from me, too: It pissed me off.

"I'm perfectly fine," I told the officer. "I just went out on a date and didn't come home. I'm assuming that's legal, since I'm over 21?"

The officer laughed, nervously, and told me he'd notify Mulder and the Miami Field Office that I had been located and that I was all right.

I was still angry; but I was also a little surprised. It wasn't like Mulder to report me missing without at least calling my cell phone to see why I was late.

But when I picked up my cell phone to call him, I noticed that it was off.

"Josh, did you turn off my phone?" I said, sticking my head into the bathroom, where he was showering.

"Yeah," he called. "I didn't want us to be interrupted."

"Well, I didn't either," I said, blushing just a little. "But now I've got to hurry or I'll miss my plane. I also got reported missing to Miami-Dade. I imagine that's because my partner tried to call me and couldn't get me."

"Oh, hell, I'm sorry," he said, stepping out of the shower. Damn, he had a beautiful body. He reached for a towel and began drying himself off.

"I should have thought of that," he said, bending over to dry his legs. I was watching him the whole time, like a cat contemplating a particularly tasty mouse.

"It's all right," I said, moving toward him. I wrapped my arms around him and wiggled around against him until I felt him growing hard. "You know," I said, "I can always catch a later flight."

"You got something in mind to pass the time until then?" he murmured, dropping the towel.

"Maybe," I said, and then he swept me into his kiss.

~~~~~~~~~

After Josh and I made love again, I called Mulder on his cell phone and informed him, rather shortly, that I wouldn't be flying back with him and that I would see him Monday. He didn't say much; I don't suppose there was much he could say.

Josh drove me to the hotel to get my things and then to Miami International that afternoon, and I caught a flight to Dulles. I had to take a cab back to my apartment -- that was different, since I usually rode to the airport with Mulder, but he, of course, was already gone.

When I got home, the message light on my machine was blinking. Mulder. It had to be. With a sigh, I pressed the button.

BEEEP.

"Scully, it's me," came Mulder's voice. "Give me a call when you get in, okay?"

BEEEP.

"Hey, beautiful," came that sultry voice from last night. "You've only been gone a few minutes and I miss you already. Please call when you get home and let me know you're okay. I ... I just want to know you're all right."

Oh, wow. This was beginning to sound serious. I picked up the phone and dialed the number Josh had given me before I left.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Hi, Josh, it's Dana," I said. "I'm home. I'm fine."

"What took you so long?" he said. "Shouldn't you have been home before this?"

"I had to change planes in Atlanta," I said. "You know how that goes. Delays and more delays."

"I guess," he said. Then he paused. "I feel a little silly saying this, Dana," he said, slowly, "but I think I'm falling for you. Do you think that's possible, after such a short acquaintance?"

Oh, my God, my God, my God. This couldn't be happening to me.

"I don't know, Josh," I said. "But if I've learned one thing working for Uncle Sam, it's that almost anything is possible."

"Almost?" he said, his voice going low and husky.

"Almost," I said, nodding although I knew he couldn't see. I wasn't drunk now, and the practical side of me insisted on asserting itself.

"Josh, I think you're wonderful, and last night was great -- more than great," I said. "But you're in Miami and I'm here, so it's hard to imagine that this will ever go anywhere."

He laughed at that. "Oh, Dana," he said, still laughing. "If I've learned one thing from the Eastern masters, it's that where there's a strong enough will, things can be made to happen. And I have a very strong will."

"Well," I said, pleased at his evident longing for me, "we'll just wait and see how it goes. But I have to go now. I have to call my partner and let him know I got home okay."

"Is he your supervisor?" Josh asked.

"No," I said. "He's just my partner. But he called wanting to know where I am."

"Well, call him later," Josh said. "Right now, I want to talk to you. I want to talk about a lot of things ... such as what I'm going to do to you when I see you again."

Oh, my God. I knew that sound in his voice. That was my old, nearly forgotten friend Desire. It had been a long time since I had heard that in a man's voice; real desire, I mean, not just lust.

I needed it. I had to have more.

Before we got off the phone, nearly an hour later, I had invited Josh up to spend next weekend with me at my apartment.

Only when I undressed for bed did it occur to me that I had never called Mulder back.

And he hadn't called me back, either.

~~~~~~~

Going to work Monday morning was just a little awkward, to say the least. Mulder didn't really seem to know what to say to me, and that was certainly mutual; our conversations were confined entirely to business, and as little of that as possible.

I think Skinner knew something was wrong when we went to his office to make our report, but being Skinner, he didn't say anything, just congratulated us on a job well done and told us to get back to work.

When lunchtime came, I rather pointedly didn't ask Mulder to accompany me, and he didn't offer, either.

The afternoon might have passed in utter silence if the phone hadn't rung.

It was Josh, calling to talk to me.

I felt a nasty little thrill of triumph as I talked to Josh in Mulder's presence. I flirted and giggled again, twirling the phone cord around my finger like a silly teen-ager. I talked for so long that Mulder actually began looking at his watch, and then looking back at me meaningfully.

I ignored him for a while, but then my more serious self took over and I regretfully told Josh I had to go. He promised to call me that night.

Which, of course, he did. Twice.

I couldn't wait for the weekend.

~~~~~~~

The next day, I got a call from a former colleague at Quantico asking for my help with a complicated autopsy. I told Mulder I was going, and he barely looked up as he nodded his acceptance.

When I got back to the office that afternoon, there was a pile of pink phone-message slips on the edge of Mulder's desk.

"Your boyfriend called," Mulder said in answer to my questioning look. "I told him you were out doing an autopsy. That seemed to annoy him."

"Jealous, Mulder?" I said, more than a little flippantly.

"You ought to know me better than that," he said, and for just a second, I felt ashamed. I did know him better than that; or, at any rate, I used to think I knew him better than that.

But the New, Sexy, Heterosexual Dana Scully was still in charge, so I ignored his hurt look as I began flipping through the stack of messages.

"How many times did he call?" I said, as I saw that the messages were all from Josh.

"About six, I'd say," Mulder said. He paused for a minute, and I could see him considering whether to say anything more.

Finally, he spoke again.

"Scully, I told you your private life is none of my business, and it's not," he said, and I could see the concern in his eyes. "But when I told this guy you weren't in, he started calling every thirty minutes, asking me why you weren't back yet. It seemed to make him a little angry when I couldn't tell him."

"You're right, Mulder," I said, picking up the phone. "It's none of your business."