From: twins@twinparadox.org
Date: Tue, 30 Jan 2001 18:43:19 -0000
Subject: xfc: HAVOC 10: Homeward Bound (Sagan&Rah)
Source: xfc

Title: Havoc 10: Homeward Bound
Authors: Sagan & Rah
E-mail: sagan@twinparadox.org & 
rah@twinparadox.org 
Summary: Mulder and Scully take the long way home.
Classification: completed series (not a WIP); humor, UST, RST, 
a *little* angst
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: for the purposes of this series, 
Requiem and everything after do not exist; 
several general allusions to other episodes.
Archive: Auto-archive, KTF, & Spooky's ok; 
others, please ask.
Feedback: Always cherished.
Disclaimer: Never were. Never will be. Shit. 

Notes: For previous segments of this series, visit our website at 
www.twinparadox.org

X

HAVOC, Part 10: Homeward Bound

XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XX

" -- and it's ten minutes of nine here in Walt Disney World. The 
weatherman tells us we're in for some nasty stuff, folks, so 
bundle up and don't forget that umbrella! Be sure to stop and 
speak to your hotel's Park Specialist and ask about the 
mid-week park hop pass --"

Mulder's hand reached out from under the blankets to swat the 
bedside alarm clock and the barrage of park announcements 
and commercials fell silent. Scully stirred next to him. He leaned 
close to her ear.

"Good morning," he whispered, pulling a stray lock of hair away 
from her face. "Time to wake up..."

She hunched down under the blankets with a soft whimper, 
ignoring him. 

He rolled onto his back, picking his head up to squint out the 
windows. The sky was dark for mid-morning, and he could hear 
the gusts of rain spattering against the glass. Nasty stuff indeed, 
he thought.

Scully reached back under the covers for him, finding his hand 
and tugging it until he was spooned against her, his arm pulled 
tight over her waist. She closed her own arm over his, twining 
their hands together under her chin. He smiled and lay his cheek 
against her hair. 
 
"Let's not get up," she said, her voice thick and mumbly with 
sleep. "Ever."

"Okay," he said, rubbing his nose along the edge of her ear. She 
nestled her shoulders against him.

"Is it raining?" she asked.

"Cats and dogs," he said, taking her earlobe between his lips 
and sucking it gently. "Elephants."

She shifted, turning onto her back and opening her eyes for the 
first time. "What?"

"It's raining elephants," he said. He leaned down and gave her a 
long lazy kiss.

"Oh," she said when he moved away. She rolled into him, 
nuzzling his chest, kissing him there. 

"We have to get up," he said softly. He put a finger under her chin 
and lifted her face to his. She blinked drowsily at him.

"Really?" 

"Yeah, really."

Yawning and stretching her arms, she rolled over to check the 
time. "What time do we check out?" she asked, pushing herself 
up on her elbows. Mulder was bent forward, grasping his ankles 
through the blankets, stretching his back. She reached out to run 
her hand along his vertebrae. She hooked her finger under the 
waistband of his shorts and let it snap against his back. "Huh? 
What time is check out?"

"Eleven thirty," he said, turning quickly and pouncing on her, his 
body covering hers. He gave her another long kiss before he 
rolled away from her and off of the bed. "Will it take you long to 
pack?" he asked, walking toward the door. 

She hunched her shoulders. "No, why?"

"I think we ought to get to the airport as early as possible. The 
weather's only getting worse."

x

Scully's eyes swept her bedroom for any forgotten items. 
Everything was gone from the dresser, the closet empty. Her 
eyes turned to the bed, still unmade, pillows crushed, sheets 
twisted and tossed aside. She picked the coverlet up from where 
it had slipped to the floor. 

"Did you check under the bed?" 

Mulder had come up behind her, bags slung over both 
shoulders. He was wearing his Hawaiian-print shirt again. She 
nodded, and stooped to pick up the plastic shopping bag that 
held all the things her small overnight couldn't. 

"Then lets roll'em on out," he said, turning back through the door. 
She followed him slowly out through the living room, giving 
everything a last glance -- the couch, the view out the balcony, the 
table of food that they had left largely untouched the night before. 
With a small sigh and a wistful smile, she made her way down 
the hall and stepped onto the elevator that Mulder had held for 
her. 

x

Mulder stood under the awning in front of the hotel and watched 
the rain come down.  They were checked out, their bills all paid 
(he couldn't wait for *that* AmEx statement) and now they were 
only waiting for the valet to bring the car around. He ran a hand 
through his hair and shot a side-ways glance toward Scully. 

They hadn't said much to each other since they had gotten out of 
bed. In the intervening time she had become thoughtful, and 
Mulder knew that she was sad to be going. What he didn't know 
was whether she was looking forward to getting back to DC, like 
he was. He stole little looks at her while they waited, trying to 
discern her mood. 

"Mr. Mulder!" 

They turned simultaneously to see George standing at the door 
of the hotel. He came down the steps with his hand extended.

"Mr. Mulder," he said again, smiling as Mulder pumped his hand. 
He turned his smile on Scully. "And Ms. -- um --?"

"Dana Scully," she said, holding her hand out with a grin. 
"Thanks, George. I was hoping we'd have a chance to say 
goodbye before we left." 

"Well, I hope you both had a *pleasant* stay," he said brightly, 
taking her hand. "And I'm sorry about the confusion last night --"

"It's all right," she said, looking away and hoping the bellman 
wouldn't notice her blush. Mulder glanced at her and smiled.

"You've been a lot of help, George," he said. "Thanks for 
everything." 

George grinned self-consciously. "Well, that's my job, Mr. Mulder.  
I'm glad I could be of service." 

At that moment, the valet arrived with their car. Scully, who had 
agreed to drive them to the airport, leaned forward and dropped 
a quick kiss on George's cheek before stepping from the curb 
and around to take the keys from the waiting attendant. 

Mulder glanced sidelong at the bellman. 

"Say, George," he said in a low voice. "Did they ever find out who 
pulled the fire alarm last night?" he asked, fiddling with 
something in his hands.  He turned and looked George in the 
eye. "Because there were some items left in our room..." 

George turned a look of perfect innocence on him. "I'm afraid I 
don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Mulder," he said 
ingenuously. "I hope it wasn't any trouble." 

Mulder laughed, shaking his head. "No, George. No trouble at 
all." 

"Excellent, sir." 

Still laughing, Mulder gave George a pat on the chest and 
stepped down to get in the car. 

George waved after them as they pulled out of the driveway, 
putting his other hand to the breast pocket where Mulder had 
tapped him.  Craning his neck to peek inside, he smiled widely. 

"Most excellent," he said to himself, and he watched until he 
could no longer see their car.


XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXX

CANCELED.

"Well, what about Miami?" Mulder tapped the edge of his ticket 
against the counter and waited for the reservations agent to 
enter the information into his computer. Scully heard what he'd 
said and turned to look at him with an expression of alarm.

"Mulder -- we are *not* driving all the way to Miami just to catch a 
plane --"

"I'm afraid Miami is also under advisory, sir," the agent told him. 
Mulder's head slumped as he blew out an impatient breath. He 
glanced up at Scully and she gave him a helpless shrug in 
return. He turned back to the agent. "What about Key West to 
Dallas?"

"Mulder --!"

He put up his hands in defeat. "Okay, never mind," he said to the 
agent, stooping to pick his bags off the floor. "Thanks."

They moved away from the ticketing desk and through the 
crowded terminal. Mulder walked over to a large pillar out of the 
way of traffic and dropped his bags again. She let her bag slide 
from her arm. "Now what," she asked.

"You'd think these people had never seen a little weather before," 
he muttered, hands on hips. He chewed his bottom lip, eyes 
scanning a nearby departures screen. "How can the *entire* 
southeastern United States be closed to air traffic?"

"Well," she said, taking a deep breath. "It's not like we've never 
had to wait around an airport before..."

He took his eyes from the screen to look at her. "That guy said it 
would be eight hours," he said. "*Eight* hours, Scully -- we could 
drive home in that amount of time."

"Not in eight hours --"

"Well, almost."

She watched him, all disgruntled and impatient as he watched 
for a miracle on the departures screen, and felt the tickle of smile 
at the corners of her mouth. "Well then," she said, "why don't 
we?"

"Why don't we what?"

"Drive home."

He stared at her, his eyebrows twitching together. "Are you 
kidding?"

She pressed her lips together, her brows peaked. She shook 
her head. "No," she said. "I'm serious."

"It's a *long* drive, Scully --"

"Well, it's either that or a *long* wait here in terminal B," she
said, 
pushing her hair behind her ears. "It's up to you."

He continued to look at her uncertainly, and she smiled at him. 

"I'd even drive the first leg," she said.

Mulder sighed again as the departures/arrivals screen 
refreshed. Dallas: CANCELED; Davenport: CANCELED; Denver: 
CANCELED; Des Moines: CANCELED...

"Looks like a road trip," he said. She lifted her chin with a 
satisfied smile and reached down to pick her bags back up.

"I'll go back to the rental desk," she said, settling a strap across 
her shoulder.

He watched as she made her way through the crowd. "Be sure to 
get a car with lots of leg room --!"


XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXX

"Fayetteville?"

Scully pulled her hands from under the jacket Mulder had draped 
over her and watched as the road sign went past. She scrubbed 
the sleep from her eyes with her fist. "Why didn't you wake me 
up?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm fine."

His turn signal was on, and he eased them onto the Fayetteville 
exit. It was snowing; thick, icy clumps flew at the windshield, 
illuminated by the headlights like stars at warp-speed. The clock 
on the dash read 9:48. She yawned, shivering.

"Are we stopping?" she asked, blinking back the tears that had 
sprung up with the yawn. He nodded.

"Road's freezing up," he said. "I figured we should try to find 
someplace to stay while there's still someplace *left*."

Their options were limited. Having been turned away from the 
Ramada, the Marriott Courtyard and Econo Lodge, and an 
assortment of 'Inns' (Budget, Comfort, Holiday, *and* Days), they 
finally found a vacancy at the Howard Johnson's. Scully booked 
their last room and walked around with the key while Mulder 
parked the car.

It felt good to be standing after ten hours cramped in the car. She 
had driven the first leg, as she had promised she would, getting 
them from Orlando to I-95, and up through Georgia. The rain had 
continued straight through until Jacksonville, when it had 
lessened, becoming a heavy ground-fog. Mulder had taken over 
somewhere in Georgia, and the first snowflakes were beginning 
to fly as she fell asleep.

She stood on the sidewalk, and waited for Mulder to pull in and 
pop the trunk. He got out, reaching back in for his jacket. He 
shivered as he pulled it on.

Scully pulled their bags out of the trunk and slammed the lid 
back down. She made her way to his side, and dropped the 
bags at his feet. 

"Need some help with those, *honey*?" he asked. 

"Why, thanks *sweetheart*," she said. "We're on the fourth floor, 
room 402."

x

Mulder opened the door and took two steps into the room. He 
stopped there. 

Ok, he thought, this is weird. 

He set their bags down. Scully had walked all the way to the 
other side, and was peeking through the sheer curtains at the 
parking lot, and the Cracker Barrel beyond. 

"I think I liked our last view better," she said. She drew the 
drapes closed and turned around. She caught him looking at 
her. 

"What?" she asked. "What's wrong?" 

Mulder shook his head. "Nothing," he said. 

Nothing... except that real life had just come crashing in on him. 
They were definitely not in Disney World anymore. 

The hotel room was exactly like hundreds of other hotel rooms 
he and Scully had stayed in over the years: same bedspread, 
same furniture, same ugly prints on the walls. It even smelled 
the same. He new exactly what the pillows would feel like, and 
that the blankets would be too stiff and light to be of any comfort 
when the temperature dropped in the middle of the night. Hotels 
like this were like second homes to them when the job took 
them out of the city. 

But this wasn't a case assignment.  And tonight, they didn't have 
separate rooms. 

"It's a nice room," he commented blandly. 

Scully sat on the edge of the bed, stretching her arms up over 
her head. "Only one in Fayetteville," she said. "Count your lucky 
stars." She fell back onto the bedspread, lying flat with her feet 
still on the floor.  She turned her head to look at him. "Are you 
hungry?" 

Mulder crossed the room and sat down next to her on the edge 
of the bed. He put his hand on her stomach and she smiled. 

"Sure," he said.  He needed to get a grip on himself before she 
saw him panicking.  This is fine, he told himself.  He just needed 
some air, and some real food -- 

"Really?" she asked him, "I can't believe you can eat again after 
all the crap you ate in the car. It's too bad we can't just call 
George and have him send something up..." 

She closed her eyes with an exaggerated smile, putting her 
hand over his.  He took a deep breath and stood up from the 
bed, letting her  hand fall onto her stomach. 

"I'll go out and scrounge something up," he said. She lifted her 
head, looking up in surprise.

"Are you sure? We could probably get something delivered --"

"Nah, I need to stretch my legs," he said -- and get my head on 
straight, he thought. "Anything you *don't* want me to bring back 
for you?" 

"Nothing that's been deep-fat-fried -- if you can help it," she said 
as she watched him back toward the door, "and nothing that's 
spent any time under a sneeze-guard, please." 

Mulder closed the door to their room behind him, and made for 
the elevator. Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe...

x

A knock on the door caught Scully just as she was getting ready 
to get into the shower. She padded out to answer it, re-tying her 
robe.  Looking through the peephole, she unlocked the door. The 
hotel employee on the other side smiled briefly.

"Sorry about the delay, ma'am," he said. "We had to find sheets 
to fit it before we rolled it up here. The blanket and pillow are 
folded up inside." 

She stood aside and let him wheel the cot into the room. 
Reaching for her purse, Scully took out a dollar and tried to give it 
to him as he left. Shaking his head, he pushed her hand gently 
away. "Thanks, but I'm not permitted to accept tips," he said.  He 
turned and walked from the room. 

Glancing around the room, Scully decided the best place to put 
the cot was next to the combination heater/air conditioner under 
the window. She shoved the particleboard table against the wall, 
and rolled the cot into place. She released the straps and it 
flopped open. 

She fluffed the pillow, and straightened the sheets and blanket, 
tucking them under, military style. She even put her bag on it, for 
good measure, so that it would look more like part of the room. 
She sat down on the edge of the real bed and looked at it. 
Options, she thought. She was giving them *options*.

She had seen the look on his face when he came into the room. 
He had tried to hide it from her, but she knew that face -- she had 
seen it before. It was Mulder's 'panic' face.

She sighed. She knew the face -- but what did it mean? What 
thought had pricked him, sending him on such a hasty retreat? 
He had to know that she wasn't going to press this further than 
he wanted. He had said he wanted to take things slow, and she 
had agreed. She had thought that they understood one another...

She got up and pushed the sheers away from the window. It was 
still snowing, a finer, softer snow than before. The temperature 
had dropped. She let the curtain fall and picked her bag up from 
the cot.

For someone so smart, he could be pretty stupid sometimes.

x

Mulder wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles of the 
RiteAid, chewing distractedly on his lower lip. His eyes skidded 
over newly stocked shelves full of lipsticks, hand creams, 
shampoo, ant-acids, pain-relievers -- but he saw none of it. 

He was vaguely aware that he had been gone a long time. He 
had put in a take out order at the Cracker Barrel about twenty 
minutes ago; it was probably ready by now. Scully was probably 
beginning to wonder why he wasn't back yet. She had probably 
settled into the room, setting her stuff out in the bathroom.  
Maybe she had taken a shower. He imagined her, greeting him 
at the door, in nothing but a towel... 

He bent and picked up a small can of shave-gel, trying to shove 
the image of a damp and barely clad Scully out of his mind. 

He cursed himself silently. He had left the hotel this morning 
humming with excitement and anticipation, eager to get back to 
DC. He had wanted to get back to his apartment, so that he 
could begin to create a place for her -- a place she would want to 
come to even when work didn't demand it, a place where she 
even might want to stay, sometimes. Thoughts of their return had 
occupied his thoughts throughout the drive. He had imagined the 
hundred little ways their lives would change or stay the same as 
they went about widening the space that each of them held in the 
other's life. 

At the time, it had all proceeded so logically. And *then* -- 

Walking into the hotel room had been like walking into a cold 
shower. All of the reasonable scenarios he had conjured, 
half-drowsing or trance-like in the car -- now seemed as 
two-dimensional and nonsensical as a cartoon, as artificial and 
fantastic as a Disney creation. Rubbing his eyes with the thumb 
and fingers of one hand, he sighed. 

Maybe that's exactly what they were. 

x

He slid the key into the door and took a breath. He had been 
gone a long time.

His heart sank as he walked in. The room was lit only by the 
television, and there was Scully, curled up with her back to the 
door, sleeping on a narrow rollaway cot. Her tiny form rose and 
fell in quiet rhythm. 

The word 'schmuck' flashed across his mind as he closed the 
door quietly behind him.  Looking at his watch, he realized had 
been gone the better part of two hours. 

Setting the take-out bags on top of the TV, he shrugged out of his 
coat. He walked into the bathroom to wash his hands, and could 
still smell her cucumber shower gel. A chagrined smile flirted on 
his lips as he noticed the absence of her personal effects on the 
counter. 

He flipped the bathroom light off, picking up the take-out bags as 
he passed the television, walking sideways between the cot and 
the side of what was evidently *his* bed. He placed the bags on 
the table that was just above Scully's head, and sat down on the 
edge of the bed. He watched her for a moment before he 
reached out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. 

Stirring and inhaling, Scully rolled over onto her back, looking up 
at him. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness, she scooted 
to sit up. 

"Hey. Sorry," he said. "They got our orders wrong. It's really 
coming down out there and the place was packed..." he said, 
holding out a can of Diet Coke for her as he unpacked their 
dinner. 

"You were gone so long," she said sleepily.  She put the Coke on 
the table behind her, and sat up straighter on the cot, tucking her 
legs beneath her to compensate for the sag of the springs. "I 
was beginning to worry." 

"Yeah -- I see you were losing sleep over it --" 

He had tossed the comment out carelessly, and by the time he 
heard how it sounded it was too late. Scully had drawn back 
slightly, eyes dark with surprise and hurt. 

"That was mean," she said.

"Scully, it was a --" 

He paused mid-sentence. She was right. He was mean. 

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "It was *supposed* to be a 
joke," he finished lamely. He opened his eyes and gave her a 
look of pure apology. "I'm sorry," he said. 

She leaned forward, curling her hands around his knees, and 
peered up at him in concern.  "What's going on with you?" 

"I'm freaking out," he told her. "I -- I don't know what happened. 
This morning I was so psyched to get back to DC with you, and 
then..." 

He stopped talking as she got up and crawled across to sit next 
to him on the bed. Taking his head in her hands, she pulled him 
down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  Mulder smiled weakly, 
glad that his admission had elicited a warm response. It helped 
to melt some of the ice-cycles that had worked their way into his 
heart. She looked up at him. 

"It's okay," she said slowly. "We're okay.  There's nothing to freak 
out about." 

He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. Taking a 
deep breath, he let it out again slowly, feeling some of his anxiety 
flow out with it. 

"We're okay," he repeated. She nodded, pulling his head up and 
down with hers. 

"A-okay." 

He breathed deeply again, and leaned forward and kissed her. 
He leaned back. 

"And what about the chicken-fried steak?" he asked. 

Scully sat back with a snort of laughter. 

"The what?" 

"Your dinner," he said, touching the take-out bag, "Is that okay 
too?" 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

X
Look for HAVOC 11: Let It Snow (R) to be posted on Wednesday, 
Jan. 31, 2001.

NOTES: For previous segments of this series, and information 
about it and how it came to be, visit our website at 
www.twinparadox.org