From: xturtle@hotmail.com Date: Fri, 22 Jan 1999 08:27:31 GMT Subject: Out of Time (1/1) VRHA Out of Time (1/1) by CJ xturtle@hotmail.com Disclaimer: They followed me home, Mr. Carter, I swear, then started to do strange things with my laptop... Summary: Can one night out of time be spent without morning repercussions? Catergories: Mystery, drama, suspense... alright, it's actually a VRHA. I can dream. Rated: PG-13 (for one word and some references to alcohol) Spoilers: Small Potatos (no, my last name isn't Quale, and I'm sorry if I spelled that wrong) Archive: with all mumbo-jumbo attached, and drop me a line to let me know where it is _________________________________________________________________________________ They are once again driving down an interstate highway, on their way to another out of the way place, presumably to put their lives on the line at the hand of another unexplained... thing. After three hours on the road they have finally given up conversation in favor of whatever local radio station can be found. Scully smiles as Sarah McLaughlin begins singing about roaming vampires and a beautiful, fucked-up man. she thinks to herself, . Next to her, her partner is oblivious to her thoughts as he wonders, as he has wondered many times before, why he always offers to drive when he knows that Scully will get control of the radio if he does. Hours later and long after sunset, the partners finally realize two things: one- they have been traveling the wrong highway for the past eighty miles, and two- there is nothing that they can do about it tonight. Somewhere on the outskirts of West Nowhere, Georgia they pull up to a roadside motel where they check in and sit down to do battle with the errant map that has landed them in their current predicament. Mulder places two bottles of beer on the table next to the map, then pauses to examine Scully's face for the proper expression of surprise. He is not disappointed. The Eyebrow is lifted as Scully ponders this offering. "Agent Mulder, you wouldn't be planning to ply me with alcohol in an attempt to have your way with this case, would you?" "With the *case*? No. I plan to use my superior intellect to have my way with the case." "If your intellect proves as superior as your map reading abilities, this case is in trouble." She smiles to let him know that she is joking, a gesture that is unnecessary but appreciated, if only for its rarity. They rarely share times like this, when no creatures are lurking in the corners of the room and no demons are lurking in the corners of their minds. Currently, each of the agents is in good health, and the conspirators that often hound them are lying dormant. The only business on the docket for the next few days is a relatively tame case of what is rumored to be alien abduction, but will probably turn out to be a couple of run away teenagers. Being in an unusually calm state, Mulder's mind wanders into not often visited territory, and he comes to a startling realization which he makes the humorous mistake of stating out loud. "We don't really talk much, do we Scully?" Her eyes widen at the familiarity of the words, and she can barely suppress her grin as she remembers where she has heard them before. "Gee, Mr. van Blundht, I never thought they'd let you out this soon." The Eyebrow has once again made it's way up her forehead, and the barely suppressed grin can no longer be held back as she watches Mulder attempt to form a comeback. Alas, the events surrounding Good Old Eddie were so absurd that there is no joke to be made, which is why he instead begins to laugh and, amusingly, cannot stop. "I feel like I'm at a high school slumber party," Scully gasps; she too has started laughing. "You had BOYS at your slumber parties?" She belts him in the head with a pillow while doling out a less than withering version of THE LOOK. "No, but we had never ending giggle fits as a result of really weird shared experiences. Or as a result of a a few too many jell-o shots." It is his turn for raised eyebrows. "In high school, Scully? Why am I having trouble picturing this?" "C'mon Mulder, it was the easiest way to sneak liquor into the house when parents insisted on chaperoning. It's a scientific fact that everyone gets silly when jell-o is involved, so who'd notice the difference between that and drunkenness?" "Are you aware that you just gave a scientific analysis of how best to participate in underaged drinking?" "Oh, there are much better ways. That just happens to be the one we used when adults were present. My parents always wondered why I didn't like fully set jell-o..." She grins wickedly at the thought of her successful deception, and he has to struggle to control his laughter. "Scully, I'm beginning to think our guy Eddie has taken YOUR place this time. I'm not sure I should let you have that beer. You're not yourself tonight." Her smile turns softer. "You're right, I'm not. I feel like I've been handed a get out of jail free card tonight. I'm miles from where duty requires my presence, and for the time being I don't have to do anything to rectify that fact. It's like I've jumped out of time for one night, and nothing in the past or future has anything to do with right now. It's better than a vacation-- there are no expectations attached, cause it's completely unexpected. I can let go of professionalism for one night and just be myself, and as long as I'm back in Work mode tomorrow, my life has not been altered in any way, shape, or form." She finally pauses and sees him staring at her with his heart in his eyes, telling her everything she already knows: You are needed, you are trusted, you are loved. She replies with an eyebrow and turns away, picking up the beer and returning them to more familiar territory. "Down the hatch." Mulder watches as she drinks, warming to the idea of one night spent out of time. "Does this mean I can sit around all night in just a pair of ratty sweat pants, swilling beer and cursing like a sailor, and you'll still respect me in the morning?" "Well, I suppose, but the point is to do something different from what you usually do..." She ducks the pillow he throws at her. "Alright, wise ass, tell me what I SHOULD do then." "Duck." "What?" "I said, Duck." She returns fire with the pillow, and he rushes at her, tackling her onto the bed. "Geez, Scully, I never figured it'd be this easy to get you into bed." She struggles to free herself, but he is using all of his considerable weight to hold her down. Sighing, she replies, "Yeah, well, I guess you can't fight gravity." He laughs, rolling to the side to let her breathe. They lay facing each other on the queen sized bed, winded from their efforts at play. "We're getting old," he observes. "Not tonight we aren't." She flashes a satisfied smile at the thought, and he returns it. "Nothing that inevitable exists until six o'clock tomorrow morning." "Who says anything inevitable exists at all, oh great skeptic?" "Don't start that fate thing with me again. There are a few things in life that are can be inevitable without our entire existences being preordained." He pauses to consider the idea. "Like what?" She looks thoughtful for a moment. "The usual, death and taxes, I suppose. I think, though, that there are other kinds of inevitabilities that are the things that cause us to get up in the morning and live another day." "You mean like the fact that I'll lose my job and end up sleeping in church doorways if I don't haul my ass to work in the morning?" "That too, but they work better if they're happier inevitabilities." He smiles. "Ah. So we're discussing the motivational powers of hope." "I like my terms better." She smiles sleepily. "So what's your inevitability?" He asks. "If I told you, it might not be inevitable any more. Then what would I have to look forward to when it seems like there's nothing to look forward to?" She giggles as she realizes that she is on the verge of babbling incoherently, and that his eyelids are losing the battle to stay open. "But it doesn't count tonight. You can tell me, because it will go back to being inevitable in the morning." His eyes had drifted closed, but a quick smile told her he was not yet asleep. "God help me if I end up regretting this, but you made your point a little too well." She leans toward him and places her hand on his cheek, her lips against his; and she is certain that her inevitability has arrived, that despite Mulder's convincing words, all would not be the same in the morning. A bittersweet sigh escapes her as she falls asleep in his arms.