Title: Airport Story
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: Mulder decides to surprise Scully and Maggie
with a Christmas trip to San Diego, but things don’t
quite work out as planned.
Written for IMTP Virtual Season 10, Christmas Special
Event
Rating: PG
Category: MRS, slight A
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
Archive: Two weeks exclusive with VS10, then
anywhere.
Notes: This goes out to all our wonderful readers who
have been so supportive. Happy Holidays to all of
you!
Airport Story
By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
Mulder looked out at the stark whiteness just beyond
the plate glass window and sighed. On the runways,
nothing was moving, not a luggage carrier, not even
the emergency snowplows that had made their last
sweep about an hour and a half ago. The jets, lined
up and hauntingly dark, were slowly being covered in
a huge mound of snow. It was as if someone had just
dumped half the Arctic Circle on O’Hare International
Airport.
“It’s not your fault.” He smiled at the words as he
felt the small, warm hand grip his tee shirt covered
bicep.
He continued to stare out onto the field. “How can
you say that, Scully? I made the reservations. I
booked us on a flight with a layover in Chicago,
knowing full well that winter in the Midwest should
have been one of Dante’s visions of hell. And not
only that,” he said, finally braving a look down into
her eyes, “I just ruined Christmas for your mom.”
Scully joined him in a commiserating sigh. “But you
were trying so hard to do the right thing, Mulder.
Yes, a direct flight would have us at Bill and Tara’s
already,” she said, knowing full well that would have
been assured if she’d made the reservations. “But you
did all this as a surprise, for me and for Mom. And
she appreciates it, really, she does.”
“She hasn’t said two words to me since they announced
the cancellation,” he countered.
“She’s been on the phone to Bill and Tara,” Scully
shot back. “And Charlie and Bonnie. If she can’t be
with them in person, Mom likes to talk.”
He wasn’t buying it. “No, Scully, I screwed the pooch
big time,” he said and sighed again. “Now Bill has
more ammunition for our next encounter, and in the
meantime, we’re going to starve to death at O’Hare
Airport.”
“The CinnaBon is still open,” Scully offered
helpfully.
He burped and grimaced. “That icing always makes me
sick to my stomach,” he groaned. “Too bad the Vienna
hot dog guy had a four wheel drive vehicle. He looked
like the enterprising sort. The kind to make a profit
off others misery.”
She affectionately chucked him in the arm. “C’mon,
come sit down. At least the TVs are still on.”
“Showing in glorious CNN technicolor the path of the
worst winter storm in the upper midwest since the New
Years Eve Blizzard of 1978-79.” Mulder stood his
ground for another minute, then sighed again and
turned back to where their coats and carryon
luggage sat at the end of a long row of industrial
strength black airport chairs.
Surprisingly, other stranded travelers didn’t
surround them. Most planes had been diverted to other
airports and many people had taken up the airlines
offer of free accommodations at nearby hotels. But
the DC flight had been one of the last to arrive and
the hotels had reached capacity, leaving about 150
people scattered around the terminal. At least the
American Airlines ticket clerk had assured them they
would be the first to leave when the weather
cleared.
The shops were all locked down, the Cinna-Bon
eventually closed up and the passengers all found
quiet corners to huddle under trench coats and ski
jackets, arms wrapped around airplane courtesy
pillows that the stranded flight attendants had
secreted off the plane. Scully had given up talking
to him an hour ago, knowing that in his current
mental funk there was no way to reason with him. She
curled up on the floor, resting her head on her arm,
her hand on his foot, as if he might considered
running off.
Mulder sat with his back against the wall, arms
wrapped loosely around his knees, watching the snow
pile up against the planes and the other assorted
vehicles on the runway. In the near silence of
the terminal, the sound of a throat being cleared
caused him to jump a foot.
“Mrs. Scully,” he gasped out, when he realized who
was settling down next time him. “I thought you were
sleeping.”
Maggie smiled at him and shook her head. “My bones
are just too old to be sleeping anywhere but in a
bed, Fox. I cat napped, I’m fine for now.”
If it were possible to feel more guilty, Mulder found
a way. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Scully. You should be
home. Or at Bill and Tara’s.”
He startled when that statement received a snort. “On
their rollaway? No, thanks, Fox. I think I’d prefer a
nice bed over at the Hilton,” she said with a wink.
“Not that Tara isn’t a perfect little hostess,” she
amended quickly.
Mulder smothered his smirk at her little admission.
“No, she was wonderful the last time we were out.”
“Bill, of course, is another matter all together,”
Maggie gave him another conspiratorial wink. When he
feigned innocence at her remark, she linked her arm
in his. “Oh, Fox. No need to play possum. I know that
Bill has been quite a handful where you are
concerned. I just hope you realize that his is not
the majority opinion in the family.”
Mulder turned his head to gaze back out at the snow.
“I couldn’t blame you if it were the majority
opinion,” he whispered.
Shaking her head, Maggie smacked him lightly on the
arm. “Fox William Mulder, if there is one thing I
want to teach you it’s to get over yourself!”
He snapped his head around to look at her. What had
she said?
“You know, it’s all very nice to feel sorry for
things that you’re responsible for. When you used to
run off without telling Dana where you were going,
for example. That was very disrespectful to her, not
to mention downright dangerous most of the time. I
think guilt over those instances would be well
placed. But . . .” she said firmly, squeezing his arm
gently. “But guilt over things that you have
absolutely no control over is just, well, I’ve always
thought it was very selfish, myself.”
He blinked at her. Had her heard her right? “Selfish?
How is it selfish? I’m admitting that I’m no good,
for you daughter, your family. How is that selfish?”
“OK, maybe selfish is the wrong word,” Maggie
admitted. “Egocentric is probably a better term.” At
his wide-eyed stare she chuckled. “Come on, Fox. How
could you possibly have known it was going to storm
so heavily tonight?”
“Oh, let’s think?” Mulder sneered. “Every weather
report for the last five days, Accuweather on the
internet, the Weather Channel . . .”
“All with possible accumulation of 2 to 4 inches
predicted for the upper Midwest, yes, I know, I’ve
watched my share of the Weather Channel late at
night, too, dear. But not in a single forecast did
anyone predict such winds and blizzard conditions.
And I’ve flown out of BWI with three inches of snow
on the ground. So you couldn’t have known what we
were in for.”
“But I know how weather gets in this part of the
country,” he countered. “Remember, Mrs. Scully, I’ve
been traveling around this country for ten years now.
I should have known better.”
She shook her head. “And if Christmas were a floating
holiday, I’m sure all of this could have been
avoided. But it’s not. It comes once a year.”
“And I’ve screwed up two of them now,” he said
mournfully. “And aided and abetted in screwing up a
third. Not a great track record.”
“Now, if you’re referring to the last Christmas we
spent with Bill and Tara, you better just rethink
that right now,” Maggie bristled. “That was not your
doing, Fox. Whatever happened that year, you were a
voice of reason and restraint with Dana and . . .
little Emily. As for the year you kept Dana out a
little late, well, she got home on time, so that
wasn’t a screw up, either. But we aren’t here to
keep score.”
“I just wanted this Christmas to be happy for her,”
he sighed and reached over to stroke his partner’s
shoulder lightly.
Maggie smiled at his tenderness. “Oh, I have no doubt
that this Christmas is a happy one for her, Fox.”
“Oh, yeah. Stranded in an airport. The perfect
holiday,” Mulder replied with a snort.
“You are never stranded anywhere when you’re with the
one you love,” Maggie shot back with a look so
identical to her daughter’s that it took Mulder’s
breath away. “Do you know how many Christmases I
would have paid good money to be stranded anywhere
with Dana’s father?”
Mulder dropped his eyes. “I have no idea.”
“Four. Four years we were separated on Christmas.
Four years I did up all the stockings, I put out all
the presents, I carved the ham. I went through the
motions, for the kids, but my heart wasn’t in it.
It made me realize something. That, and a little
incident that happened a long time ago, on a
Christmas Eve much like this.” Her voice took on a
playful tone, but her expression was far away.
“I sense a story coming,” Mulder smiled at her.
She returned the smile. “You think you’re the only
one to screw up Christmas, as you so artfully put it.
Well, let me tell you, William Scully, Sr, USN, ran
rings around you, Fox. He could screw up Christmas
with both hands tied behind his back!”
Mulder relaxed against the wall, settling in to enjoy
the story.
“It was the year Dana was born. At Christmas time,
that would have made her about 10 months old. We were
living in Newport News, on the Virginia coast. My
family were all New Englanders, and we hadn’t been
home in a very long time. I asked Bill if we’d be
able to get home for Christmas. He promised to do his
best.”
“As you well know, weather was treacherous, the
interstate system was still pretty much under
construction, and I was concerned about traveling
with little ones. Bill was only 4, Missy was right
about 2 and a half and Dana, well, Dana had just
started trying to walk the week before. So the
thought of careening off the highway into a snowpile
held no appeal, to say the least. But Bill was a
man of action, and he had promised me we’d ‘be home
for Christmas’. I swear to God, if I never hear that
damned song again, I’ll die a happy woman,” she said
with an exasperated huff, ignoring the bemused look
Mulder gave her at her forcefully colorful
expression.
“We started out with clear skies, dry pavement and
more than enough diapers to hold us till we got to my
sister’s house in Portland. It was more than a day
trip, but we’d decided to drive straight through, I
would spell Bill when he got too tired. And to
be honest, that pretty much was the majority of the
trip, until we hit just north of New York City. An
Alberta Clipper, much like this one, was following
the St. Lawrence and dumped a foot and a half of snow
on New York and New England. We were stopped by state
troopers at the New York border and told the roads
were closed.”
“What did you do?” Mulder asked in rapt attention.
“Well, the reasonable choice would have been to turn
around and go back the way we came, find a motel and
sit it out. However, this was William Patrick Scully,
Lieutenant JG we’re talking about, and he wasn’t
going to let something as measly as 18 inches of snow
stand in the way of himself and a promise. Bill
backed the car around, made to go back the way we’d
come and at the first side road, started north again,
on the back country roads.”
“Weren’t those roads closed, too?” Mulder asked,
leaning forward.
“The north-south roads were icy, yes, but many
farmers had put up snow fences, so some roads were
still passable. But just to get from one little
community to another. There were several roads
that were totally snowed under and Bill would take
out the map we’d picked up at a Standard station and
find another route.”
Mulder snickered, remembering the old Standard
stations with their ‘torches’ on the glass signs.
“We weren’t making any time at all, we were going
mostly west because the northern roads were
impossible. It was about 11:30 when we were coming
into another little town. But this time, Bill
Junior woke up and got all excited. There was a
church up the street and people were going inside. He
decided that we were at my sister’s and it was time
to stop. No amount of talking could convince him that
we still had several hours to go. Well, Bill Senior
looked at Bill Junior, all excited about going to
Middle night Mass, as Billy called it, and without a
word he pulled into the parking lot of the church and
shut off the engine. We got the girls out, Dana was
sound asleep and Missy was crabby from being woken
up, but we all went into the church.
“The service was beautiful, but it seemed a little
off to me. Halfway through the homily, I looked at
the cover of the hymnal and realized we were in a
Lutheran church. Well, it hit me that we’d just
traveled a thousand miles and didn’t even get to the
right religion, much less the right church and I
started giggling. It took me several minutes to get
myself under control, but by that time Bill saw what
I’d already seen and he was starting to gather the
kids to go outside again.
“It was a well placed heel on his shin that stopped
his movements and we politely continued with the
service. The children were too little to notice any
difference and I had Lutheran friends in school so
I’d been to their services. It was so beautiful and
it was wonderful just to be still and not in that
darned car anymore. When the service was over, we
knew we had to go outside and get in the car again.
Missy started to cry, which woke Dana up and then
Billy was upset and I couldn’t take it anymore, I
started to cry right along with them. Bill looked at
me like he was going to bust a gasket, and he just
walked off. I thought he’d left us there. But a
few minutes later, he came back, with the Pastor of
the church in tow. The pastor picked up Missy, took
Billy by the hand and informed me that all of us were
coming to the parsonage, his wife was making up the
beds in the spare room for us. I didn’t have a chance
to say no.
“We thought we’d only stay until morning, but as luck
would have it, the gas line in the car froze solid
that night and we were stranded there for two days.
The Wilsons, that was their names, were delightful
people and opened their hearts and their home to
us. We had a wonderful Christmas Dinner with their
children and somehow presents appeared under the tree
for Billy, Missy and even little Dana. I will never
forget the look on Billy’s face when he was told that
Santa had actually found him in a snow storm! We left
the day after with very warm memories. I got a
Christmas card from them every year until Alice
passed away about ten years ago.”
Mulder smiled and nodded. “But Mrs. Scully, I don’t
see any Lutheran churches in the vicinity,” he
countered.
She shook her head. “You are so stubborn, Fox. It’s a
wonder the two of you haven’t killed each other in
the last ten years. But maybe that’s what you do, you
balance each other. You’re right. There aren’t any
churches here. But there is Dana. And you and I both
know there have been times we thought she would never
share another Christmas with us.”
He dropped his chin, acknowledging just how much
truth was in that statement.
“And there have been times when she and I have
worried in the same way about you,” Maggie added,
lifting his chin with her index finger.
Mulder looked in her eyes and realized that she was
speaking the truth there, too.
“You are together. And you’re both safe and warm.
What more could you ask for on Christmas Eve, Fox
Mulder?”
“Mulder?” Scully sat up, bed head lifting her auburn
hair in a very unflattering style.
“Right here, Scully,” he said soothingly. He pulled
her up so that she rested her head against his chest.
“Right here.”
“Has it stopped snowing?” Scully asked, yawning so
that her words were almost lost.
“No, but it looks a little lighter, off to the east,”
Mulder replied.
“Maybe that’s the Star of Bethlehem,” Maggie said
with a smile.
“Well, any clearing would come from the west or
north,” Scully mumbled and snuggled down on to
Mulder’s chest. “I think we’re stuck here a while
longer.”
Mulder lifted his hand and stroked her hair from her
face, but she’d already fallen back asleep. He looked
over at Maggie, who was watching them with such
affection. “There isn’t anyplace I’d rather be.”
The end