From: msnsc21@aol.com   
      
   ok to send to newsgroup; I will send to Gossamer and Ephemeral.   
   Thanks!   
      
   August 15, 2004   
   Title: Rain Delay   
   Author: ML   
   Email: msnsc21@aol.com   
   Feedback: always welcome   
   Distribution: Gossamer, Ephemeral, yes; anyone else,   
   just drop me a line.  Thanks!   
   Spoilers: nope   
   Rating: R   
   Summary: Whoever said getting there is half the fun   
   has never gotten lost in Camden, New Jersey.   
      
   Disclaimer:  Who are these people?  They just sort of   
   sneaked onto the page when I wasn't looking.  I don't   
   have any control over them, and I certainly don't own   
   them.  No harm or gain intended by this story, just a   
   little fun.   
      
   A BtS challenge fic.  Elements at the end.   
      
   ====   
      
   Rain Delay   
   by ML   
      
   Water, water everywhere.  But not the kind that did them   
   any good, Mulder reflected.  Not the kind of beautiful,   
   blue, beach-edged water he was hoping to see out the   
   window.   
      
   He turned away from the spectacular views of forked   
   lightning and trees whipping around in the wind.  The   
   interior of the room wasn't what he'd hoped for, either.   
   Instead of a huge bed made up with soft cotton sheets   
   and a ceiling fan circling lazily overhead, there was   
   the usual skimpy double with a scratchy synthetic spread   
   over it.  Plenty of humidity, though.  "Did you call   
   the airport?"   
      
   Scully nodded, her eyes on the television screen.   
   Mulder couldn't see what was so fascinating to her   
   from where he stood.  "Delays all across the board.   
   Probability of any flight leaving tonight is unlikely."   
      
   Wouldn't you know, the weather had been just fine as   
   long as they were investigating a case.  But let him   
   plan a little extra-curricular activity for them, and   
   the heavens let loose.   They should have been on the   
   plane, getting their beverage service by now.  Instead,   
   they were stuck in Camden.  Philadelphia International   
   wasn't allowing any flights out until the storms abated.   
      
   He flopped face-first onto the bed.  "What about   
   driving?" he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow   
   he burrowed into.   
      
   "All the low-lying areas have flash flood warnings   
   in effect," she said.  "I don't think we can outrun   
   the storm, anyway.  Why, were you thinking of driving   
   to Cancun?"   
      
   "Very funny, Scully,"  Mulder muttered into the pillow.   
   Just when he'd finally persuaded Scully to take a non-   
   work-related trip with him, the mother of all storms   
   was keeping them earthbound.   
      
   He turned over to see the television as Scully snorted   
   and muttered something under her breath.  "Idiots,"   
   she said.   
      
   "What's that?"  he asked.   
      
   "Some reality show,"  she said.  "Most of these people   
   couldn't find their asses with both hands.  They're   
   not even holding the map right."   
      
   Mulder watched for a while.  The show appeared to be   
   a competition to see who could get to a pre-determined   
   point first, with obstacles thrown in the way.  It was   
   more fun watching Scully mutter and shake her head   
   over the antics than it was to watch the show.   
      
   She caught him staring at her.  "Take a picture, it   
   lasts longer," she said, tossing a pillow at him.   
   She was still a little angry with him, but he could   
   tell she was softening.   
      
   "I would, but I left my camera in my other pants," he   
   said, spreading his arms out to show he had nothing to   
   hide.  Considering he was wearing only boxers at the   
   moment, it was pretty obvious.   
      
   He loved it when he made Scully blush.  She shook her   
   head and turned away, pretending to ignore him and his   
   boxers.  If he had his way, she wouldn't be ignoring   
   him for long.   
      
   Besides, he couldn't help the way the roads were laid   
   out in New Jersey.  So he took the wrong exit.  He still   
   found them a place to stay, no mean feat in this kind   
   of weather.   
      
   She had turned back to the television, but he could   
   tell her attention was at least partly focused on him,   
   lying innocently beside her, not even attempting to   
   touch her.  She was sitting at the end of the bed and   
   so she couldn't see if he was watching her or the TV.   
   She steadfastly refused to turn around.  He could   
   look at her to his heart's content.  She was wearing   
   her terry robe and her hair was still damp from the   
   shower.  He liked that look on her, though he liked   
   her look without the robe even more.   
      
   The show continued.  "Cute goats," he ventured at   
   one point.  One of the contestants was trying, with   
   limited success, to herd goats into a boat.  Her   
   partner was screaming at her, which wasn't helping   
   much.   
      
   "Yeah, but they're going about it all the wrong way.   
   There's nothing to be afraid of," she said,  "but   
   they're acting like they'll get goat-cooties or   
   something."   
      
   "While you would use those magic words, `naa ram ewe,   
   naa ram ewe,' and they would instantly do your bidding?"   
   Mulder asked.   
      
   "It was `baa ram ewe,' and it *did* help," Scully said   
   defensively.   
      
   Mulder wisely let it drop.  They watched in silence a   
   while longer.  "We'd clean up on this show," he   
   remarked.   
      
   "You think so?"  No longer able to keep her back to   
   him, Scully had moved to stretch out beside him, and   
   he played with her fingers as she tried to keep the   
   remote from him.  "I seem to recall that you're   
   somewhat map-impaired yourself."   
      
   "Well, I think the navigator should take some   
   responsibility," he countered.   
      
   "Not if the pilot won't listen," she replied, and   
   rolled away from him.   
      
   Crap.   
      
   "Sometimes the important thing isn't where you're   
   going, but who you're with," he said.   
      
   Scully rolled back to face him.  "What a line,"   
   she said, rolling her eyes.  But she had at least   
   answered him.   
      
   Even to him it sounded like a line, but he meant   
   it sincerely.  Being stuck in a fleabag motel with   
   Scully was better than being anywhere else without   
   her.   
      
   "Yeah, I know," he replied.  "But not too bad,   
   huh?"  He wiggled his eyebrows at her.   
      
   "Better than your map-reading skills, anyway,"   
   she said.   
      
   "Ouch."  Scully didn't need a scalpel to wound   
   him, but he took it like a man...a man who hoped   
   he'd get lucky some time that night.   
      
   "Forgive me?"  he asked winningly.  "It's at least   
   better than sitting in the lounge at the airport."   
      
   "Maybe..."  Scully relented just a little.  He   
   thought he could see a small smile starting.   
      
   And then, to cap the wonderful evening, the   
   electricity went off.   
      
   They both lay still, perhaps hoping that it was   
   a temporary outage.  After several minutes, Mulder   
   got up and looked out the window.   
      
   "Looks like we're not the only ones," he said.  All   
   the street lights were out.  He could see headlights   
   in the distance reflecting off the wet ground, and   
   the occasional flash of lightning, but nothing more.   
      
   Scully joined him at the window.  "Some vacation,"   
   she said glumly.   
      
   "Don't give up, Scully," Mulder said.  "Chances are   
   it will have blown over in the morning, and we'll   
   get to the airport, and be on our way."   
      
   "I never pegged you for an optimist," Scully said.   
   She leaned against him.  "But at least it's not a   
   hurricane."   
      
   "Been there, done that," he agreed.  "This is   
   nothing."  He put his arm around her.  "Guess we   
   might as well get some shut-eye."   
      
   Scully allowed him to lead her to the bed, their   
   way illuminated in flashes by the storm.   
      
   They both climbed into bed.  After a moment, no   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)