Title: An Airport Interlude Author: Kate Farley Feedback: Yes please! Remsleep@bolt.com Rating: G Keywords: UST Categories: S Spoilers: None Summary: In 1986, a younger Mulder and Scully have a little encounter in the airport. An Airport Interlude, Part 1/2 Mulder's POV June 2, 1986 1:04 PM Eastern Time I'm sitting in this cramped little airplane seat, eating my little bag of peanuts and attempting to stretch my long legs out in the little tiny leg space. Everything on an airplane is little. Somebody should do, like, a comedy routine about that, or something. Anyway, there's this really fat woman sitting next to me. I know, I know, I shouldn't dismiss her as fat. More like gargantuan. And not only is she taking up all of her seat and part of mine, but she's asleep, and she's snoring. Rather loudly. And wearing a dress that I can only think of to call a mui mui, that's colored so brightly and....so ugly...it should be considered a federal crime. Ah, federal. Where am I going? Yes, that's right, I'm going to go join the FBI. Uncle Sam wants *me* to serve my country. So I suppose this means that maybe I'm destined to spend the rest of my natural life chasing around the bad guys with a badge and a gun. I wonder what it's gonna be like. Different than I imagine it, I suppose. And I don't doubt that all the people I meet will dismiss me as a 'Weirdo'(my former Oxford nickname--'Weirdo' Mulder),just like everyone I've ever met has. Except Phoebe. Boy, was *that* ever a mistake. On my part, I suppose. And I also suppose that it was my fault. Maybe if I'd done something different, she'd have...well, can't live in the past. A flight attendant is making her way up and down the aisle with a drink cart, and I order a Coke. It's odd, really, I still have a bit of a British accent from being in England for three years. Oh, well, I'm sure it'll pass. I don't really like it; it reminds me of Phoebe. I'll have to remind myself to not talk quite as much until I can get rid of it properly. Mind off Phoebe, I'm very, very glad to be going back to the States. England was...well, it was England. England was Phoebe. NO! I am banishing her from my memory forever. I will not speak of that vile, demon creature, mind-game playing, mutant to anyone. Ever. Again. I wonder how Mom and Dad are doing. I spoke to both of them on the phone about a couple weeks ago. They know I'm coming back today, but I won't see them unless I make the journey up to Massachussets, and I don't plan on doing that any time soon. There's nothing for me up there, anyway. Just sorrow and grief, and a pair of overbearing parents, one of whom blames everything on me, and the other of whom blames everything on him. We are, in essence, your everyday, dysfunctional family of the eighties. It's funny, nobody seems to get along anymore. When I was little, we didn't know *anyone* who'd ever been divorced, save that one English teacher I had in eighth grade. And now, I know a lot of divorced couples, my parents included. Oh well, at least it can only get better. The captain is now announcing that we will be arriving in Dulles International Airport shortly. Blah blah blah. This woman is snoring uncontrollably now. VERY, very loudly. I don't know, should I wake her up, or what? I think I'll just, kind of edge away from her as far as I can and wait until we can get off the plane. The plane taxis in to the runway a bit later, and we sit in a line of planes, waiting for a gate to open up, for about a half hour, as the woman beside me finally wakes up and is now *yawning* loudly, stretching her arms above her head, and I can't move any further away. Thank God for the captain coming on the intercom and telling us basically that we can go, and turning off the 'Fasten Seatbelts' sign. I leap up from my seat, stretching my legs, and pick up my black backpack from the overhead compartment. I stand in the still line of people getting their bags, then standing behind yet more people getting *their* bags. Ah, the joys of flying coach. The line finally begins movement, and I quickly follow the person in front of me, looking forward to getting off the plane and into the airport, where I'll have space to *breathe*, unlike this little torture chamber. I walk up the gate and out of the door, as a flight attendant stands beside it with her fake little smile plastered on her face repeating her forced mantra of "Thank you for flying with us, please come back again." I don't know about you, but I'd get sick of saying that day after day after day, to person after person after person who I'd never met before. It would just get...monotonous, I suppose. I glance around at the sea of faces I've never seen before and don't know, and I wonder where I need to go. I've never been in this airport before. I begin to walk away from the gate and past the shops as I look for a rental car place. I can't find one, but I see a newsstand over there and I figure I might as well get a magazine or something. I walk in to the open layout store and gravitate towards the magazine wall. I see all kinds of periodicals; Time, Newsweek, along with such magazines as Teen, Bop, and some like Women's Day and Good Housekeeping. Then I see the magazines hidden beneath dark plastic wrappings, with such titles as Hustler and Playboy. After a moment of indecision, I shrug and pick up the latter of the two. I figure, since I've pretty much sworn off women entirely because of...*her*...what else can I do? It's not like I have anything to lose, anyway. I turn towards the candy and food shelf and pick up a pack of gum and some sunflower seeds. Lately I've been craving these, I don't know why. Hmm. It'll pass. I walk towards the counter with my items, not really paying attention to anything outside of my own thoughts about what the future might hold, and I smack into a petite redhead who's coming around the shelf. Both of us drop what we were carrying; me, my magazine and food; her, a bottle of root beer, a medical journal, and what appears to be a romance novel. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," I say as we gather our items. "No, it was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going, sorry," she aplogizes as well. After hastily shoving my magazine underneath a nearby shelf, and confident that she didn't notice me doing so, I look up at her. She looks up at me as well, and our eyes lock. She's....beautiful. Enigmatically so. I'm not sure what it is about her, but I feel drawn to her. Like...I don't know. Like fate is telling me that I'm meant to be with this woman standing right in front of me that I just slammed into. I stare into her crystal clear, sweet blue eyes, as she gazes right back at me. I am simply enchanted by this woman for a moment, when she smiles and extends her hand to me. "I'm Da--" she begins to say, but is cut off by an extremely loud announcement filling up the room and breaking our little two-person reverie, stating in a mechanical voice, "Flight 353 to Miami, Florida is now boarding all passengers. Flight 353 to Miami, Florida." She looks up at the speaker and is about to continue when another woman grabs her arm and pulls her away from me, saying, "Come on, we gotta go!" She looks back at me and smiles, somewhat remorsefully. I'm sad as well, seeing as this was probably my one and only chance to meet her, and I still feel like we're, I dunno, supposed to be together for all eternity, or something. I sigh, retrieve my magazine, and go up to the counter, my original destination, to pay for my things. Oh well. No use regreting. I'll never see her again, anyway. An Airport Interlude, Part 2/2 Scully's POV June 2, 1986 1:26 PM Eastern Time This is quite possibly the most crowded airport in the world. It's definitely the most crowded airport *I've* ever been in, and I've been in a lot of them. I don't even know why we're flying out to Miami from this airport, instead of one closer to home. Ellen says it's because we couldn't get on a flight from any of the Maryland airports, and this one's just as close, but I still say it doesn't make sense. "Dana, we have at least 45 minutes until the plane leaves, let's go in some of the stores," Ellen tells me, standing up. I stand as well, and we wander off towards the long line of overpriced, low-quality merchandising stores that line the airport walls. We first enter a store called 'Washington Unlimited'. This store must truly be that, 'Unlimited'. It has every single thing you could think of to buy, in an airport or otherwise, all stamped with a 'Washington, D.C.' logo on them. There's even some of your traditional airport sweatshirts and shot glasses with the FBI seal on them. Hah, the FBI. Hmm, nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to work there. I'm going to Med School in the fall, so I get to go be a doctor. I'd hate to be one of those people that works in the FBI, chasing murderers and criminals. It'd be too...I don't know....wearing down. We exit the shop not having bought anything and immediately Ellen drags me into a small restaurant. She orders a cup of coffee and I order a Coke. We sit and drink slowly, talking about random things, as we wait for the time to come when we can board the plane and are on our way to sunny Miami, Florida, from which we will rent a car and drive down to the Florida Keyes. It's our little reward to ourselves for graduation, which we just did a couple of weeks ago. "Where do you see yourself in ten years?", Ellen suddenly asks. I look up from my reverie, in which I was imagining the warm Florida sun and beach. "What brings that on?" I ask her, raising an eyebrow. It's a talent I got from my mother, and I use it all the time. Every time someone says something that warrants it, at least. "I dunno...but really. What do you think you'll be doing in...let's see...that would be 1996." "Um...well, I suppose I'll be...a veteran surgeon at a Maryland hospital," I answer her. That's where I see myself, as a doctor. As myself, only 10 years older. "Hmm. I guess so. But...I don't know...how do you know?" I glance at her curiously. "How do I know? What do you mean?" "I mean, what if something happens between now and then, and your decision changes? I mean, ten years is a long time, Dana. What if you decide you want to be...be a pediatrician? Or...I dunno...an FBI agent?" she asks, guesturing accross the wide airport hallway at the 'Washington Unlimited' store we were in a while ago. I laugh lightly. "An FBI agent? I don't think so, Ellen." "No, seriously. You don't think it'd be fun?" "Fun? Well, that's not the first word that comes to mind when I think of the FBI, no. It's too...police-like. I couldn't chase down insane criminals at 2 AM with a badge and a gun. I just wouldn't be able to do it," I answer her, having seriously considered what it might be like for a moment. "But...let's say you're a veteran surgeon at that Maryland hospital you were talking about. You'll want to wake up at 2 AM to do a routine surgery on a man who was just shot by that 'insane criminal'?" "You raise a good point, Ellen. But I think I'd have to still say I'd rather be many, many things than an FBI agent. Besides, they're always bad guys in movies." "I guess so. I just think it would be kind of...exciting. Hunting down madmen...right out of a movie." "Hmm. I suppose." We sit in silence and drink the rest of our beverages before disposing of them and leaving the restaurant. We have about 10 or 15 minutes, I'd say, before the plane starts to board, and we're close to the gate, so we can go in another shop or two before returning to our hard plastic chairs near the gate. We go into a relatively large-looking newsstand and wander around there. Ellen picks up a few magazines, I pick up a bottle of root beer, my beverage of choice these days, a medical journal, which I've been reading more of since I decided on my major being pre-med, and a romance novel. I'm the first one to admit it, they're trashy bodice-rippers. But I find them somewhat intruiging. Enigmatic, in a way. Ellen goes up to the counter to pay for her magazines, and I am about to follow when I am distracted by a shelf of FBI logo merchandise. I look at the seal, and a little nagging thought enters my mind, what *would* it be like to be an FBI agent? It *would* be exciting, like Ellen said, but it would be...I don't know...noble. Commendable. I don't know. I suppose it would be not only exhilarating chasing down an insane criminal at 2 AM, but it could give a person a sense of worth. Saving even one person from the dangers of the free world. Granted, being a surgeon is just as noble, and you're saving people as well, but it seems...different, somehow. I am lost in these thoughts as I begin to make my way to the counter, and run into a man coming around the other side of the shelf. Both of us drop the things in our hands, and I notice that he was carrying gum, sunflower seeds, and one of those pornographic magazines. I don't know which one; he shoved it under a shelf before I got a good enough look at the title. I chuckled inwardly at that. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," he apologizes as we gather our things. He has the slightest hint of an English accent. I've always loved British accents. "No, it was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going, sorry," I tell him. I then look up at him, at the same time he looks up at me, and our eyes catch. He has gorgeous eyes, hazel, with multi-colored flecks of gold sprinkled throughout. *He's* gorgeous in himself, dark brown, touselled hair, the beautiful eyes, thick, dark eyelashes. We stand, eyes still locked, and I smile. I put my hand in front of me to shake his, and begin to introduce myself to this beautiful, yet *quite* tall, man. "I'm Da--", but I'm cut of by the speaker in the shop announcing that Ellen's and my flight is now boarding. I look up at the speaker, then back down at his handsome face, and open my mouth to at least tell him my name, and to find out his, when Ellen pulls me away from him. She says *something* about having to go, I suppose, but I just stare back at this enigmatically gorgeous man who stands staring at me, and smile ruefully. I wish I could have met him, I really do. I swear, when I was looking in his eyes, I felt some kind of odd...pull. Like, I *had* to get to know this man, like we were predestined to be together. It's silly, I know, especially seeing as I don't believe in fate, or destiny, or anything like that. That's more Missy's area. But...but with this guy, it was different. But oh well. I can't dwell on what I can't control. I put the items I *was* planning on purchasing down on a shelf as Ellen drags me out of the store, all the while I'm staring at this mystery guy. It doesn't matter, I suppose. I'll never see him again, anyway. THE END. You like? Feedback is a lovely gift, so are chocolate chip muffins. Those are nice, too. ~~Kate~~