TITLE: Flight 912 II: Any Other Way AUTHOR: JB < JessLB@aol.com > RATING: PG SPOILERS: Deep Throat, Beyond the Sea, Pilot, TGTSC ARCHIVE: Spooky's and Gossamer are fine. Everyone else, let me know. DISCLAIMER: Does anyone actually read these things? SUMMARY: A chance meeting in an airport reunites Scully with someone from the past. Sequel to "Flight 912, Row 19." * Mulder's POV, coming soon, to a computer screen near you. * ************** I broke my New Year's resolution in February. I broke it again yesterday. I told myself that I wasn't going to chase after him anymore. Ghostbusting on Christmas Eve was not my idea of spreading Yuletide cheer. And when he called my apartment at 6:19 a.m. on a Saturday morning, I curtly told him to remember what he promised me. 'No running after X-Files on weekends,' we said dryly, in unison. 'But this isn't just any X-File, Scully,' he'd said eagerly. I imagined him scooting forward on his couch in anticipation of breaking me down. 'This woman in New Mexico has had dreams every Friday night for the past three weeks, each dream coinciding with a murder.' He paused, waiting for my reply. I gave him none. 'Anyway, these murders just happen to be the same murders she witnessed in her dreams. She's not crazy, either, I checked her records,' he continued immediately. So here we are. Stranded in Podunk, New Mexico because Mulder overslept and we missed our original 8:45 a.m. flight. Oh, and the case? Woman has dreams of murders because - drumroll, please - woman *is* the murderer. I spent forty minutes trying to rouse my dead-to-the-world partner, finally managing to get him to this airport with a good half hour to spare. We sat down facing the window, only to have Mulder jump up thirty seconds later mumbling something about t-shirts and a gift shop 'right over there'. Again, I told myself I wouldn't chase after him. Somehow, the thought of Mulder alone in a gift shop, surrounded by trinkets and worthless tourists' shirts, prompted me get moving. Last time, we came home with three extra shopping bags. So now I'm standing in this entirely too-small gift shop, watching my partner meander his way through the store. He examines each item with a critical eye. He almost missed the alien figurine display in the back. Almost. I sigh, moving closer to a rack of touristy-like t-shirts. The logos blend together in a whirl of white: R O S W E L L 7-4-47 We Are Not Alone An alien smoking. This is not happening, I chant to myself. I flip through the rack faster, yanking one aside one right after another, until the sound of collapsing boxes tears me away. I turn my head, welcoming the distraction. And am amazed to find my ex sprawled on his ass. "Ethan?" I ask in disbelief. He jumps up, brushing himself off quickly, and moves towards me. "Dana?" "I - how are you?" I manage to get out. Calm, Dana. Stay cool. "I'm good, I'm good," he says. "How are you doing?" "I'm - fine," I tell him, fudging a little. Not that I'm *not* fine, but if I said I was great, he'd try to delve into my life, and if I didn't, he'd get smug, and I - He always could get me flustered. "Scully!" Mulder practically bellows from across the store. He walks over to where we're standing, grinning. Oh, no, that's not a t-shirt he's... He steps up to us, insinuating himself unconsciously between Ethan and I. "Look." I look, somewhat reluctantly. You never know with him. My eyebrows shoot up immediately. Oh, Mulder. "'Take me to your leader,'" I read, suppressing a smile. "I'm sure Skinner would love seeing that." Mulder looks ready to answer when Ethan quietly clears his throat behind us. Mulder turns, glancing over him curiously. I notice the look and hasten to make introductions. "Ethan Minette, Fox Mulder." No need for Mulder to know about Ethan and I. "*The* Mulder?" Ethan asks. I groan inwardly. Should have known it wouldn't work. "Ethan," I say quietly, passively, sending him a shock of mental communication. Please don't do this. He ignores me, turning to my partner and sticking out his hand. I watch cautiously as they shake. "Nice to meet you, Mulder. I've heard so much about you," greets Ethan. I knew this man well enough in my past to know exactly what he's doing. Mulder raises an eyebrow, and I right away sense he's gearing up for battle. "I haven't heard a thing about you," he says innocently. "Well, I'm not surprised. How long's it been, Dane, five years?" I cringe at the old nickname. Ethan's like a goddamn unstoppable train. He's watching me, expecting me to let him win. I meet his gaze steadily. "Six, I think." He nods. "So, how's work?" I sneak a glance at Mulder, willing him not to say a word. "Work is fine." "Don't tell me you're still on the X-Files." "We just finished up a case, actually," I tell him, discreetly checking the clock across the room. "Catch the bad guy?" "Like always," I reply evenly. "So, Dane," Ethan says, a little smile on his face. He crosses his arms. "How did that Idaho case go? You know, I always wondered." I count the seconds it takes for Mulder to get it. One, tw --"We were tricked by a man pretending to be a reporter, found dead ends on every lead, I had my memory tampered with at Ellens Air Force Base, and Scully bailed me out. Normal stuff." Atta, boy. That's my Mulder, he never disappoints. I sneak a peek at the two men, who I've just noticed are in an all-out stand off. Mulder's moved so that he's behind me - this makes glaring at Ethan much easier for him. Ethan's a little tense, waiting for Mulder's next move. I can't help but feel a sense of womanly achievement. The smell of testosterone is slowly layering the room. Finally, Ethan glances back at me. "How's Ahab?" I straighten instantly, walls erected. "Dad died in '94," I say briefly. "Right after New Years." "Jesus, Dana, I'm sorry," he says quietly, and I know he's telling the truth. He and Ahab had grown close in the year and a half I had dated Ethan. He was the only guy my father ever hinted was okay to marry. He reaches out a hand and it rests on my shoulder in a familiar gesture. I force a small smile as his hand falls away. My eyes glance down and I notice the glint of a gold band. There's a terse pause. "You're married," I murmur gesturing at his ring. "Mm? Yeah. Yeah, two years this month." I open my mouth to reply, but the intercom beats me to it. "Flight 912 now boarding, flight 912 now boarding," a nasal, bored voice announces. "That's me," Ethan tells me, just as Mulder announces, "That's us." I guess there's nothing else to say. We all try not to shuffle our feet, failing miserably. Finally, I break the silence."Well, um...I guess I'll see you on the plane, then." "It was nice to see you again, Dana," he says, and we turn to leave. I hold his gaze for a moment, remembering how we were, what we might have been. If I were being honest with myself, I would say that our breakup was my fault more than his. I was twenty-nine years old, just starting my partnership with Mulder. I had illusions of grandeur, I suppose. I wanted to make ASAC at a field office by 35. I planned on making AD by 45. Hell, the rate I was going, I could have done it too. If I were to go all out and spill my heart, I could also say that I made my decision to stick by Mulder on that first case. Seven men have seen me au natural, and he became the eighth that first case when I decided the hell with Bureau policies and dropped my robe in his hotel room. By the time he'd given me my plane ticket to Idaho four months later, I knew that if it came down to choosing between the X-Files and a life, I'd choose the X-Files. And I did. We had a fight the night before my plane left, and Ethan was moved out when I came home. I went out on five dates during my first year with Mulder and less than a handful in the years after that. We leave the gift shop and board the plane, taking our usual seats - me by the window, he by the aisle. I settle down, ready for a nap after chasing after our suspect till midnight. Mulder generously offers me his shoulder, and I need no further encouragement. I lay my head down, close my eyes, and drift off. I'm jostled awake some minutes later as someone struggles to pass Mulder's lanky frame. I look up in time to see a look pass between my past and my present. I swallow a satisfied smile and close my eyes again. I see Ethan momentarily after we land. He's hurrying towards a tall brunette, who's grinning. I watch them kiss and grope like they've been apart for a month before Mulder's hand settles on my back and we start for the car. He drives me to my apartment, waiting patiently as I unlock the door. I stumble in the darkened room. I walk to the bedroom, dropping my overnight bag on my bed, then return to the living room to find my partner lounging on the couch. "Comfy?" I ask dryly, sitting down next to him. Mulder offers a brief smile before deciding that my couch needs inspection. "Scully?" he asks suddenly. I swallow a sigh, sensing a Deep Talk on the way. "Mulder?" "Why," he begins, after a quick throat-clearing and a pause, "why didn't you tell me about Ethan?" I settled back, draping one hand over the back of the couch. "Probably," I said mildly, injecting the slightest bit of sarcasm, "for the same reason you didn't tell me about Diana." His eyes shoot up to meet mine, and we wage a defiant war before he capitulates. "Truce," he murmurs. "Listen, Mulder," I tell him, lightly tapping his knee. "I know you think that you ruined my dreams of a normal life and that I'm going to spend the rest of our lives bemoaning my lost youth, but seriously - I chose this life. And I wouldn't have it any other way." We pause for a heavy moment before Mulder breaks the spell. He leans over and brushes a light kiss on my forehead before getting up and grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door. I follow him. "See you tomorrow, I guess," he says, opening the door. "Your turn for bagels," I remind him as he heads off down the hall. He waves a hand over his head, and I can feel him rolling his eyes good- naturedly. I watch his figure disappear around the corner before closing and locking my door. As much as I sometimes wish things were different, I honestly have no regrets. I told him the truth. I really wouldn't have it any other way.