She. Reclining on sleek black sofas, ensconced on coffee shop chairs, unknitting habit-tensed muscles. Learning to relax, leaning into the moment, tasting pleasure-bitter coffee on her tongue before relishing the swallow.

She, happily fading into the scenery instead of a world-weary starring role.

She. For she was undoubtedly so for the constant millennia after her rude transformation, a peasant girl no longer but yet not a sophisticate, prey to the cruder emotions slap-dash enamelled under a rigid layer of society's polish.

She sighed. Took another swallow. And marvelled at he.

He. Oh so human, but a mystery forever unsolved, the only human in untold countless encounters to jump beyond his own base humanity and his easily-read venal needs to do something both longingly hoped for and completely unexpected.

So unexpected she still could not believe it, despite the darkened 'pinch me' area of her forearm.

She was Jenn and she was forever and at last free.

Was it a surprise to see her very own star-featured he with another woman, the woman who floated just below the surface of his every dream? Only if she believed in surprises, and she could not. Her only belief was the inevitably of life, so there he was, smiling, leaning slightly back so he could look down his nose to the face before him.

Jenn hooked her finger and lowered her sunglasses just to make sure. Yep, it was he. It was them. A them who had not spared her a glance, so the tableau was presented as a decision to be made. Blessedly, a decision of her own design. And she'd seen far too much for far too long to believe in the idea of coincidence. Perhaps it could even be a payback of sorts.

Jenn sighed, content to feel the toes wiggling in her shoes which wanted to step forward of their own volition and shout her uncharacteristic thanks to the world, realising instantly that scratching her emotional itch would be a selfish one. More self-serving than he.

To honour his decision, she sat. Thought. No, her special burden was no longer at her command, but Jenn knew some everyday magic. She stood and, brushing by their table, left a little something minutely sprinkled on the surface of a coffee teetering on the edge of their table. Who's coffee? That was for the fates to decide.

***

Scully blindly felt for her cup, a lazy smile as she drank deep. Mulder off on one of his hare-brained tangents was an experience to savour along with her coffee. She suddenly thought of chocolate. Lindor Swiss chocolate. Cadged from a dusty half-price pile at a Spanish deli during a once ago mid-year college break.

"And then," she heard him drone, "After my feet landed on god knows what at the bottom of the sewer, there were these beady eyes..."

"Mmm," Scully answered. Spain. Spanish leather, Spanish lace, buried in silk in the royal boudoir. Castles - or something like castles, palatial palaces. Spanish kings. Royal chambers, decadent, which seemed to morph suddenly into San Simeon. She choked back a delighted giggle.

"Scully, are you listening?"

"Of course." Scully tried to sound offended. "Mulder, have you ever been to Spain?"

"Yeah. Oxford break. Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just wondering." Scully drew lazy circles on the table with her finger, circles which looked exactly like - wedding rings? She blinked and erased the sketch with her palm. Where did that come from?

She glanced up to see Mulder staring.

"I'm fine," she parroted, which drew another frown. "No, really."

"Sure you are." Mulder leaned down to peer into her eyes. "Scully, your pupils."

"What? All present and accounted for, along with lens, retina, cornea, and the episcleral artery, which you can't see unless you've suddenly developed x-ray vision." She drew herself up tall. Decided the best of dignity would be a measured exit toward the door, which seemed to be telescoping, suddenly, like an Escher in-and-out print. Damn. She'd always tried to follow the waterfall to its logical conclusion but that sneaky Escher. Damn.

"Let's go home, Scully."

"Okay." Good idea. Great idea. "You mean my home, right?"

Mulder frowned. "Of course."

Scully felt the corners of her smile stretch to the bursting point, the Cheshire cat point, at the thought of her home, her castle, her neat-as-a-pin (though why a pin was supposed to be neat, she couldn't quite remember). Oh, she could ask Mulder, he knew that crap - um no, better not.

She felt her elbow leading her upright, or as much upright as she could be against the swaying of the coffee shop's lino. A voice. "Here, drink this."

"Okay," she agreed, pulling at the bottled water in big, thirsty gulps.

A drifting off into the Spanish copper sun, interrupted by a plaintive, "How're you feeling?"

"Good. Good. You know, Mulder. I suddenly realised something."

A cautious, "What?"

"Someday, I'll kiss you."

Scully saw, through lazily narrowed eyes, her partner swallow. She laughed. "C'mere, King."

"Scully." His voice squeaked. Kind of like Mickey Mouse. She approved. "Uh Scully, I think you might be a tiny bit stoned. Or drunk. Or something. Cause as much as I like Elvis..."

The giggled burst like involuntary bubbles from somewhere inside her and she swatted his arm. "Not King Elvis, Mulder, but King of Spain. Rich and noble. And mine."

"Ow," said Mulder, rubbing his bicep. "More like the king of pain."

"Haha. What's the matter, windmill-tilter?"

"Scully." Mulder held her face in his hands, and her world steadied and stopped spinning. "There's a tapas place in Georgetown. Let's get some food into you before heading home. To your home."

Scully felt her smile gather speed. She was safe, she was free. The end was in sight and the future predicted. She lazed against his arm as she was led from the coffee shop.

***

Jenn pushed herself against her viewpoint wall at the edge of the window. Enjoyed the sudden sun on her face almost as much as the rain which dripped mere moments ago on her eyelashes, fragmenting her world into a kaleidoscope of colour.

Fragments to whole. Something undone was now done, and Jenn strolled away, ready to experience her next magic moment.


***

Notes:

MaybeAmanda deserves a big piece of non-humble pie for her beta. A tip of the hat to Moxy Fruvous, and of course ~

"In April I will go away
To far-off Spain or old Bombay"
- Maurice Sendak