If the format is messed up, please email and I will fix it so you can read it with more ease, I'm trying something different. Disclaimer: Chris Carter made up these characters and they belong to him and 1013 and Fox, not to me, and I am borrowing them with no infringement intended. Romance warning apply. Possible frustrating ending warning applies. Flight Delay by Megan Reilly 4/11/96 zzcf89a@prodigy.com Scully stopped running, standing and staring at the monitor. "Come on!" Mulder called to her. When she didn't move, he turned and looked at her. "Delayed," she said. "What?" "Our flight's been delayed," she said, nodding to the display monitor. Mulder looked at her, then at the monitor, several feet in front of them. "You can read that?" he asked. "Can't you?" Scully turned her gaze to him. He didn't answer and tried hard not to squint at it. She let out an agitated sigh. "I hate these redeye flights," she said. "You know I would never call the Bureau cheap, but..." said Mulder. "Damn it," she said, "I'm tired and I want to go home." "Maybe it'll be a short delay," he said, and she shook her head. Still, he walked over to the flight agent. When he returned to Scully's side, he looked grim. "They're checking something on the plane." "We're going to be here all night," she predicted. "Maybe there's a fast food place still open," Mulder said hopefully. "It's one A.M.!" "Other people take late flights," he reasoned with her. "Look around, Mulder. We're the only people here." Scully said. "Isn't it funny this only happens when we're on our way back." He looked at her, surprise on his features. "Are you suggesting a conspiracy?" he asked. She gave him a dirty look. "Come on," he said to her, "We'll get some coffee and you'll feel better." He picked up her carryon and slung it over his shoulder so she had to follow him through the terminal. There were ten fast food places in the middle of the airport, along with several gift shops full of postcards, pottery and belt buckles. All of them were dark and closed up tight. "I tol-" Scully began. "Don't say it." Mulder interrupted her, staring wistfully at the fast food counter. His stomach growled loudly and Scully looked at him with an amused smile on her face. "Wishin' you'd eaten more of the chicken dinner?" she asked, barely holding back a laugh. It was his turn to give her a dirty look. "There have to be vending machines around here somewhere." Mulder insisted. "When was the last time you saw a vending machine in an airport?" Scully asked, but followed him as he explored the terminal unsuccessfully. He turned to her with one of his best defeated, pathetic looks that never failed to win her sympathy. "Think there's a McDonald's right outside this place?" His tone was so hopeful that she hated to pop his balloon. "At the end of the runway?" she asked softly. "This has to be a conspiracy," he stated and she burst into a wild, unexpected laugh. She took her bag back from him and he watched her dig through it. "Here," she said, thrusting a candy bar at him. "Scully, I'm amazed," Mulder said. She didn't seem to him to be the type to carry candy with her. "Be glad," she informed him. He nodded to her as he ripped into the chocolate bar. Seconds later it was gone. "Better?" she asked. "I may survive after all," he said sarcastically. "You're welcome," Scully said, his attitude rubbing off on her as weariness settled over her. "Let's go back and find out how long this is going to be." There was no attendant at their flight's gate. The electronic sign blinking "Delayed" was the only proof that anyone had ever been there. The two agents stared at it unhappily for a long moment. "That's it," Scully said and Mulder looked at her. He hadn't heard her use that tone since they'd left the small town of Comity some months ago. "We're on the next flight out of here." And she took off for the booking agent. There was no one at the counter. "It's an X File, Mulder," she said with an almost undetectable trace of humor in her voice. "All the people have disappeared from this airport." "Next flight out is at 7:30 anyway," he said. "It says on that screen over there." Her shoulders sagged. "We're stuck here," she said, her face crumpling. She let her bag drop to the carpeted floor and let her head hang down. "It's not so bad, Scully," Mulder said. "We've got each other." She didn't say anything, just picked up her bag and stomped back to the flight gate. She flung herself down on one of the benches and crossed her arms angrily, tapping her foot savagely against the floor. Mulder sank down next to her, admiring at the stubborn look on her face. He didn't know why her reaction was amusing him. He didn't know why he thought her angry face was so precious, or why he wanted to reach out and touch her. Scully noticed him staring at her and glared, so he looked away. However, the motion of her leg as she tapped her foot caught his peripheral vision and started to get on his nerves. Mulder reached over and put his hand on her knee, holding it still. "Stop," he said firmly. "I wish I hadn't given you that candy bar," she muttered. "Hungry?" he said. She refused to respond. "Didn't like your salad?" he asked. Another dirty look. "It's going to be OK," he told her seriously. "It's just an airport." She shook her head. "I'm just tired," she admitted. "And hungry." Mulder put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her head down against his shoulder. She resisted, looking at him like he was crazy. "I'm told I make a good pillow," he smiled wryly. She was having none of it. "Who told you that?" she asked. "Do you always have to be so difficult?" he asked back, irritated that she hadn't accepted what he thought was an incredibly kind offer. "It was just something to say." She held his eyes for a long second and then put her head down obediently on his shoulder. It confused Mulder somewhat, but he'd accepted long ago that he would never understand her completely. It was part of her charm that held him fascinated, that she was so unwaveringly different than he was. She squirmed softly against him as she got comfortable and Mulder felt a hot surge of blood rush through his body. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, he thought, but tightened his arm around her shoulders anyway. At least she wasn't complaining anymore, he thought, but knew he didn't really mean it. She sighed contentedly. Maybe being stuck in an airport with Mulder wasn't so bad after all, she thought, a tiny smile curling her lips. He was warm and comfortable and the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing was lulling. It registered somewhere in her brain that his arm was around her shoulders, but she was suddenly too sleepy to think about it. Mulder knew exactly when Scully dropped off to sleep, and for a moment he was glad. At least one of them was resting. He scanned the empty terminal. He was bored. There was a newspaper vending machine right across from him, taunting him, but he couldn't make out the headline. He averted his eyes, and then he felt lonely, wishing Scully would wake up and talk to him. It had been so long since they'd actually talked, had a really good conversation. He missed that. Stop being selfish, he told himself, and listened to her soft breathing for quite a long time. Then he realized he had to go to the bathroom. He didn't want to wake her, but it didn't look like he had any choice. Still, he tried to move out from under her without waking her, sliding away to try to lower her to the bench without jostling her too much. He almost made it before she snapped awake, staring at him. "What?" she asked breathlessly, then relaxed when she saw it was only him. "Sorry," he said, slipping the rest of the way away. "Go back to sleep." She watched him jog over to the men's room and put her head back against the bench, closing her eyes. Sleep was gone. She shifted around, laying down, but her face stuck to the plastic of the bench. Accept it, she thought, nothing's as comfortable as sleeping on Mulder. She didn't know why the thought would make her blush. Her face was still hot when Mulder returned and knowing he saw her blushing made her more embarrassed. "Thinking impure thoughts?" he asked. "Of course not," she snapped, knowing her face had to be a bright, furious red. Mulder watched her carefully, amazed, and she turned her face away. "I'm glad you're awake," he said. She looked at him in surprise. "I was getting lonely." "Sweet," she commented stiffly, trying not to show the soft feelings that his words conjured in her. The silence between them was uncomfortable. They were both staring at the blinking "delayed" sign, wishing it would change. Wishing things would change and become as easy as they had once been. "So," said Mulder, trying to be funny, "How 'bout them Dodgers?" Scully didn't say anything. Mulder suddenly felt full of energy; he couldn't keep still. He also couldn't think of anything to say. He jumped up and went to the newspaper machine. "Got a quarter?" he asked her. She tossed him one and he retrieved a paper, coming back to sit down next to her. "Should've gotten two," she said, swiping the news section before he had a chance at it. "Are you suggesting stealing?" Mulder teased her. "It's yesterday's paper," she shrugged, paging through it. "What're they gonna use it for? Recycling? We'd be doing them a favor." "I never knew you had a criminal streak," Mulder said, opening the life and style section and turning to the back page. "You've never done anything illegal?" Scully challenged, skeptical. "Never," Mulder informed her, knowing she would call him on it. "Liar," she said. "I know you like to drive fast." "Everyone speeds, Scully." "But it's illegal," she reminded him. "Listen to this," he said, swiftly changing the subject. "Pisces: Love will find you where you least expect it, maybe right even right beside you. Libra heavily involved." Scully ripped the paper out of his hands so quickly that he could only stare. "I don't believe you," she said, her voice too loud. Her cheeks were turning that bright pink again, Mulder noticed, watching her eyes move quickly over the page. Her heart was pounding. Why would he lie like that? she wondered. She would admit that sometimes when he gave her a deep, searching look, she wondered what was going through his mind, but what was he saying? "Right there," he said, his finger crossing into her personal space to indicate the horoscope section. Her heartbeat slowed. He hadn't made it up. That was really what it said. She denied feeling any disappointment as she said, relieved, "These things are not for real, Mulder," she said. She didn't believe in horoscopes. "It's the power of suggestion." "Read mine to me," Mulder requested, settling in beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him. Scully gave him a quick look before scanning down the column. "Libra: Delays lead to good things; be patient. Expect the unexpected. Your love-meter is off the scale," she read in a flat voice. "Love- meter?" she asked incredulously. "You can't possibly believe this stuff." "Haven't you ever read your horoscope and had it be exactly right?" Mulder asked her as she wadded the paper into a ball and tossed it at the trash can. It missed. He got up and retrieved it, then shot it neatly into the basket. "You're some kind of basketball pro, aren't you?" Scully said irritably. "You're changing the subject." He sat down sideways on the bench, facing her. He couldn't help noticing the tension in her shoulders. "Law of averages, Mulder," she said slowly, enunciating every sound precisely, the way she always did when she was denying his theories. "Maybe today's the average day," Mulder said. She rolled her eyes, giving him a doubtful look. "You gonna make a move on me, Mulder?" "Are you kidding? I know you're armed," he joked. "Well then," she said, crossing her arms over her chest again, wondering what she felt so angry about. She stared at the blinking "delayed" sign until it started to blur before her eyes. Mulder was still watching her, she could feel his eyes on her face. "What?" she turned to him, her eyes blazing. He shrugged innocently. "I was wondering if the custodian is a Libra," he said, his eyes darting over to the brown-uniformed man at the other end of the terminal. "Stop it," Scully ordered, clenching her jaw. There was that stubborn look again, Mulder thought. "What are you so tense about?" he asked her. "I want to go home!" she cried. He knew it wasn't a good idea to keep pushing her, so he tried to let the matter drop. He watched the custodian empty the garbage bin and begin to squeegee the large plate glass window. He could still feel waves of anger coming off Scully. "I think you're uptight about the horoscope," he said. "I'm not uptight!" she cried and immediately thought that her voice sounded like an old, uptight spinster's would sound. She bit her lip, studying Mulder's profile as he went back to apathetically watching the custodian. Was that how Mulder thought of her? She looked down at her black skirt and black stockings. Was that how she was? Suddenly she was depressed. Mulder knew she was squirming around next to him, but he refused to look at her. Antagonizing her was not a good idea. He had been hoping for an opportunity to heal their relationship; instead, things had gone into a fast downward spiral. He felt something jab against his arm. It poked him again. "Here," Scully said, and he looked over at her. His eyes widened as he saw that she was holding her gun in its holster out to him. His breathing quickened as he realized what she was trying to convey. She couldn't be serious, and yet she set the gun down and said, "Now I'm not armed." Mulder simply gaped at her. His eyes darted to the clock; he had to be hallucinating. He looked back at Scully. She was really looking up at him expectantly. This was crazy, he thought, this could not be happening, meeting her eyes again. She nodded slightly at him, boldly meeting and holding his gaze. All this because of a horoscope? "Damn it, Mulder," Scully said. He was messing this all up by drawing out the moment, by delaying, by giving her the time to think about what she was doing. She leaned over and bumped her mouth against his briefly. The most awkward kiss in this history of the world, she thought, despairing. Mulder was still staring at her. His fingers were moving over the leather of her holster. She looked away and clenched her jaw again. "What was that, Scully?" he asked. Fire flashed in her eyes as she glared at him. "What the hell do you think it was, Mulder? I was kissing you." "Why?" he asked, pure Mulder, brilliant and as simple as a child. "Because...because..." she floundered, not having a good answer ready. Any answer, really. She wanted to punch him for making this so difficult, but she knew he couldn't help it. She shouldn't be thinking like this; it wasn't meant to be. "Forget it," she said and sprang up off the bench. "No." Mulder followed her. She didn't look back and suddenly she was running through the terminal. He caught her and turned her around, holding her firmly in front of him. "What's going on, Scully?" "Nothing!" she cried. "Is this about the horoscope?" he demanded, searching her eyes earnestly, trying to get the truth out of her. "No." "Then what is this about, Scully?" he asked. He leaned in toward her and his voice dropped into softness. "Why did you kiss me?" She didn't have an answer. There were too many vague reasons, none of them solid enough to state. So she said the three words that Fox Mulder hated most in the world: "I don't know." She's lying, he thought, and a wide grin broke sunnily across his face. She stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. He kissed her quickly on the cheek... ...and they both froze. Locked in each others' arms, unable to think coherently or pull away, suddenly incredibly aware of the animal pull between them. It had always been there, but for some reason, waiting for their delayed flight in this deserted airport, it had become too inviting, too hard to fight. Scully tilted her head up and they kissed, for real, for the first time. A kiss between a man and a woman, not two friends, not two partners in the FBI. Desires and long-hidden fantasies rose to the surface and broke through, creating waves of intense heat as they learned they couldn't get enough of each other. "Delayed Flight 1130 to Washington National is now boarding." The announcement was too loud, almost deafening in the silence of the private world they were building and Mulder and Scully both jumped. Scully tried to step backwards out of Mulder's arms, her face stained red not solely from embarrassment, but he wouldn't let her go. She didn't struggle, just looked up and met his eyes imploringly. He saw the guilt darkening her eyes and his embrace dissolved. Her hand found its way up to her mouth, half-covering her lips as though they were suddenly obscene. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." she said, backing away almost as though she was afraid of him. But that was ridiculous. He had to stop this, but he didn't know how. "I'm not," he informed her and turned swiftly. She watched him swoop down on their belongings and approach the check-in desk. Her stomach still nervous, she followed him. The gate attendant frowned over their tickets. Mulder didn't turn and look at Scully as she came to stand by his side. "So what was wrong with the plane?" he asked the gate attendant conversationally. She looked at him. "There were a few irregularities in the safety checks. Nothing to worry about." She made some marks on their boarding passes with her green felt tip pen and handed them back to him. "Have a nice flight." Mulder accepted the tickets and started rapidly for the doorway. Scully raced after him. He stopped abruptly and spun around to face her and she almost ran into him. "Do you really want to get on a plane they've been repairing for the last four hours?" he asked her. "You're suggesting...what, Mulder? Driving back to D.C?" she demanded, taking comfort in the familiar pattern of their exchange. Just like working on a case, she assured herself. "Do you really want to take this flight?" he asked again, holding the tickets up. He had her and he knew it. Even with all the in-air miles she'd accumulated, she was still a terrible flyer. She grabbed the tickets from his hand. He didn't argue when she informed him, "I'm driving." The end. Ok, yeah, that's all I wrote. If you want more, I guess I'll think about it. If you have any other comments, I'm just dying to hear them!!!! Please email me at zzcf89a@prodigy.com Come on, write me.