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Scully was lying on her back on the floor in front of the cockpit door, bleeding hard from her upper thigh, her eyes barely opened, while Mulder was straddling her and pressuring the wound with both his hands.
“Scully, keep your eyes open for me, okay? Please, Scully, keep your eyes open,” he said softly in a trembling voice. She moaned in response. He gritted his teeth and peered at a guy who could have looked like a flying crew member if only he wasn’t aiming a gun at them. “You have to let me have a first aid kit.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“She’s gonna bleed to death!” He cried out a little too loud, causing some passengers to scream again in terror. “You son of a bitch,” he murmured, swallowing his anger.
Mulder desperately wanted to touch her face, to let her know that he was here, that she was going to be okay, to fondle her hair and to kiss her cheek, but he had to keep pressure on her wound or she would be dead within half an hour.
— THIRTY MINUTES EARLIER —
Scully’s hands were tightly gripped on her seat’s armrests when Mulder, sitting next to her, laid his hand on hers and squeezed it.
“We’re up and flying, Scully,” he gently said.
“Argh, I hate takeoffs,” she replied, loosening her grasp and shaking the cramps out of her hands, “ … and landings. Especially in bad weather.”
“What do you mean? It’s the perfect storm,” he teased.
“Stop,” she said while taking out the case files from the back pocket of the seat before her.
They reviewed what little they knew about the case. Last month, five young women had disappeared with their newborns in the region of Albuquerque just seven days after they had given birth to identical twins, no known connection between them, and that summed it up. What they knew was pretty close to nothing. Other than the fact that it was unexplained, it wasn’t really an X-File; the local Bureau had requested the help of a profiler, and A.D. Alvin Kersh had been all too thrilled to send his two most unwanted as far away as possible for at least a couple of weeks. Mulder and Scully had not complained; it still looked more interesting than domestic terrorism. Actually everything looked more interesting than domestic terrorism.
Although her eyes were staring at the files, Scully seemed to be lost in her thoughts.
“You okay?” Mulder mildly asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, closing the folder and putting it away, “I’m going to wash my face and freshen up a little. Excuse me,” she said while standing up.
Mulder contorted himself to let her through and looked at her as she walked toward the bathrooms at the front of the plane.
“Hey! Watch out,” he heard a woman forcefully say behind him.
When he glanced backward, the woman was holding and patting the back of a now crying baby and she was angrily staring at a man with a downturned face who seemed in a hurry to get to the toilets or something. The man was several rows ahead of Mulder and in the opposite aisle, but Mulder noticed that he seemed to be hiding something underneath his zip up hoodie. Mulder looked back at the woman who was attempting to calm her baby while complaining to a hostess that the man had hurt her baby’s head in his rush.
Mulder took a magazine out of the pocket before him and tried to ignore the screaming baby when he heard a big bang coming from the front of the plane, like a violent knock on a door. He tilted his head up but didn’t see anything, so he turned another page and made another attempt to read. He closed the magazine soon after, annoyed, checked his watch and looked up again. What the hell was Scully doing? At the same moment, the plane encountered air turbulence. The seatbelt sign instantly turned on. Through the window, there was nothing but clouds. Everything normal, Mulder thought. Other than the fact that Scully had not returned and that that baby was very noisy. This was going to be a long flight.
“Excuse me,” Mulder said as he held back the arm of a hostess who was walking by, “my partner has been in the bathrooms for a good ten minutes. Would you check on her, please?”
“Certainly,” she smiled.
As he was focusing on the hostess, he heard another bang. Or at least he thought it was, because he couldn’t really tell now with that baby just three rows behind him. He wondered if that was really a knock or maybe a carry-on suitcase that hit the overhead bins because of turbulence.
Suddenly, there was another one, only that one didn’t sound anything like a knock. That one, Mulder could recognize it with his eyes closed, even with an inconsolable infant nearby. That one was a gun fired.
He was getting up when the plane abruptly dropped in altitude and changed its path, causing Mulder to fall on the passenger across the aisle. Surprised, a lot of passengers started to scream. Outside the window, it was all still cotton white. It lasted only a few seconds — still too long for most terrified passengers — before the aircraft steadied itself. Mulder apologized to the passenger and stood up, decided to go and check on what was going on, which unfortunately he feared he already had a pretty good idea as hard to believe as it was. And for once, it wasn’t related to UFOs. Not even close.
“Sir, you have to go back to you seat and fasten your seatbelt; the sign is still on,” a hostess warned him softly.
Mulder grabbed her by the elbow, pushed her gently but firmly up to the next crew rest area and closed the curtain behind them.
“My name is Fox Mulder, I’m a federal agent with the FBI,” he whispered, retrieving his ID from his pocket and showing it to her. “I heard what I believe was a gunshot, just seconds before the plane dropped in altitude.”
“Oh my god. A gunshot? Are you sure?”
“I’m afraid so. How many crew members are you?”
“Eight. Plus the pilot and the co-pilot.”
“Okay. You find a way to warn them without letting passengers know. The last thing we want is a panic. If you see something or someone suspicious, don’t do anything. Don’t try to be a hero. Comply. I need to get to my partner and when I’m back with her, we’ll think of something.”
The hostess, in her early thirties, was nervously nodding. She had crossed her arms over her chest and was trembling. Her face was pale. Mulder put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Everything’s gonna be all right. What’s your name?”
“Jenny.”
“All right, Jenny, go back out there and put on your smiley face.”
“Okay,” she decided.
“Okay?” He forced a smile himself. “Okay.”
He watched her go, took a deep breath, eyes closed, and went in the opposite direction, toward the cockpit. He was just a section away from it and when he was able to see the lavatory enlightened signs, both read “vacant”. This wasn’t good. He kept walking and he spotted who he at first thought was a flight attendant. But when he got closer, he was almost positive that man was the man who was wearing a hoodie just minutes before. The man stood up from his seat facing him at the end of the aisle and held up his hand.
“Sir, go back to your seat, please.”
“Do you know for how long? I really have to go to the restrooms,” Mulder begged, staring at the lavatory, looking for a sign from Scully.
“I really can’t say, but you have to wait for the seatbelt sign to be off.”
Mulder obeyed and checked on the two other lavatories on the left aisle, but they were vacant too.
When he was back to his seat, he pulled out his phone only to observe that there was no service. He put it back and glanced all around, sensing the fear in the passengers’ murmurs.
“Flight attendants and cabin crew, please be seated,” all passengers heard the captain’s voice.
This really wasn’t good. A hubbub settled and grew fast into the airplane as passengers kept whispering their angst louder and louder. Godamnit! Federal agents should always be allowed to carry their guns along with them inside airplanes. The hostess he had just spoken to, Jenny, passed by with a colleague of hers and both entered their small rest compartment and gave Mulder a knowing but worried gaze. With turbulence, Mulder couldn’t tell if the plane was following its original path or not. Let alone making a U-turn. There was no way to know where the sun was coming from and all TV sets were off. The roar of the engines sounded normal, thus he was hoping the rough shaking of the plane was only due to air turbulence and that Scully was safe and had found a place to hide if she’d witnessed anything like he imagined she had. Mulder tried to spot the empty seats ahead of him; he had to get closer to the cockpit, preferably unnoticed.
Row after row, bending over and holding tight onto seats as he walked, Mulder reached a seat across from the crew compartment. He sat down, discreetly observing the fake flight attendant, and then pushed the curtain open and rushed inside. Jenny was sitting with two other women. When one of them opened her mouth to argue, Jenny cut her off and explained Mulder was the FBI agent whom she had told them about.
“Did you warn every one?” He asked in a whisper.
“Almost, five of them.”
“Did you see the flight attendant over there? Do you know him?”
“Him? Mr. Mulder, there are two flight attendants on this flight and they are both women.”
“Oh my God,” whispered one of the two hostesses, covering her mouth with her hand to swallow a scream.
Mulder crossed the resting crew compartment and slowly thrusted his head through the curtain on the other aisle, looking toward the front of the plane. He briskly withdrew his head as he saw that another guy was sitting at the end of the second aisle. Guards, he thought, sweeping away all remaining doubts he had.
“We tried to send a SOS signal to the control tower but I don’t think it went through.”
“They cut out communication systems,” Mulder said, nodding. “Well, if they shut them down, we must be off the radar and someone would have noticed that, and if they didn’t, the radar ought to have noticed the change of route. In any case, I’m sure someone knows something is going on with this plane.”
While talking and reassuring the three women, Mulder was pacing — or, to be exact, rocking from one foot to the other — staring down at his feet and trying to implement an action plan. Mulder needed to act and find Scully. He was more worried about his friend and partner than about the plane being hijacked. That, he would worry about afterward.
He poked his head through the curtain again. The guy wasn’t there anymore. He rushed outside the compartment, barely hearing Jenny whispering his name, and made it to the lavatory. He leaned his back against the partition wall, stepping over a few passengers’ feet who looked at him with a mixture of stupefaction and horror, and he put his index finger to his mouth to shush them.
As the plane suffered another big bout of turbulence and an altitude drop, Mulder heard again a big bang sound, louder than the previous ones, maybe because he was closer to where it was coming from. He didn’t see it but the fake flight attendant stood up and closed the curtain. There was another banging noise, followed by the sound of a door abruptly opening and hitting the wall, and another collision. Mulder leaning to his side and tried to peek, but the curtain was blocking the view to the cockpit. He heard men’s inaudible whispers.
It took Mulder only a second to realize that the groaning that came next was Scully’s. He didn’t think twice. He ran out, his hand going for his gun out of reflex, and pulled open the curtain. Passengers screamed as they saw a man with a wide stance holding a gun out in front of him with both hands. In a flash, Mulder pictured him as Elvis Presley on a stage holding out a mic when he whipped his head, startled by Mulder’s breakneck appearance. Mulder just had time to see the cockpit door being shut and Scully was down on all fours as if she were doing a push-up, and although a man crouched beside her, he was not her personal trainer — and she was definitely not working out — before Mulder punched Elvis hard on the jaw who instantly lost balance, hitting his head against the wall, and Mulder grabbed his gun while the none personal trainer brutally gripped Scully by her wrists and held her up harshly, pulling her against him as a shield. He pointed his gun at Mulder and Mulder pointed his in return.
“Let her go,” Mulder ordered as Scully narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head faintly as an apology.
“Let go of the gun first,” he said in a low voice which didn’t make sense; Mulder could still hear the passenger screaming, peddling the panic like an epidemic.
“Let her go!” He repeated, yelling and knitting his brows.
Two brave passengers swiftly came from behind Scully’s aisle side and attempted to disable the personal trainer by holding back his threatening arm. While the man resisted and wrapped his free arm around Scully’s neck, Elvis woke up and gave violent kick with his foot behind Mulder’s knee. As he fell, Mulder heard a gunshot. He looked up but the gun had been fired to the ceiling as Scully’s trainer was still resisting. He kicked Mulder’s hand who lost the gun and Elvis stole it back, aimed it toward the two good Samaritans and shot.
“Noooo!” Mulder shouted, horrified, as he witnessed one of the passengers fall, killed instantly from a bullet in the head, and the other run away.
As Elvis was aiming again, Mulder turned around to disarm him and punched him again. The shooter’s arm was flung sideways and the gun went off. Mulder swung back and helplessly watched Scully’s blood flowing from her upper thigh.
“Scully,” he exclaimed, crawling to her as her aggressor let go of her and she fell heavily to the ground.
“Open up,” Elvis said, knocking the butt of the gun against the cockpit door which opened after a second.
Mulder straddled Scully’s legs and used both hands to pressure her wound. Her face was turning whiter by the minute.
“Scully, keep your eyes open for me, okay? Please, Scully, keep your eyes open,” he said softly in a trembling voice. She moaned in response. He gritted his teeth and peered at Scully’s aggressor. “You have to let me have a first aid kit.”
“Shut the hell up.”
“She’s gonna bleed to death!” He cried out a little too loud, causing some passengers to scream again in terror. “You son of a bitch,” he murmured, swallowing his anger. Mulder desperately wanted to touch her face, to let her know that he was here, that she was going to be okay, to fondle her hair and to kiss her cheek, but he couldn’t. “Scully,” he whispered again. “Scully, tell me what to do.”
Scully tried to raise her head and to look at him but she was in shock and already too weak. Her mouth opened slightly but no word came out of it and her head fell back on the floor.
“I need a doctor in here!” Mulder shouted, looking fixedly at the assailant with defiance.
As the personal trainer knocked on the door to enter too the cockpit, Mulder pressed harder, his stomach pushing down all of his weight against his bent elbows, and he leaned over to be face to face with his partner.
“Scully?” He murmured and he waited for her to open her eyes before he continued, “I can’t remember, Scully, what’s your blood type?”
As she was slowly opening her mouth to talk, Jenny arrived and kneeled beside them. She put a little cushion under Scully’s head and gawked at the sight of the dead passenger when Mulder asked her to find a doctor.
“AB,” Scully managed to say. “Neg … at …”
“You’re AB negative?” She weakly nodded. “Good. That’s good,” he repeated nervously. “Scully, you hang in here, you’ll get out of this. Look at me, Scully, open your eyes, I’m right here.” But her eyes remained closed, her face was white, her lips turning blue. Mulder tilted his face backward and called out again, “Someone find me a doctor!”
A man came and offered to help; he wasn’t a doctor but if there was one on this plane, he would find them. Some other passengers walked in, out of curiosity or to see if they could be of some help. Mulder asked one to put a blanket over Scully’s chest as he felt her whole body start to tremble under his hands. Mulder looked down at the hot and viscous liquid that was slipping through his fingers. He felt ghastly. He readjusted his hands and chose instead to gaze at her face and to sweep away that horrific vision; he couldn’t let her know he was terrified, he couldn’t lose her. From when she had successfully fought a terminal cancer until no more than a couple of months ago when he traveled to the end of the world to rescue her from her frozen coffin, Mulder couldn’t count the times he had almost lost her. Just within the last year.
“Scully,” he said, trying hard to add an upbeat tone in his downcast and uneasy voice. “Hey, Scully … You still have to let me try your tofu and mushroom burger.” Scully smiled softly and opened her eyes at him. His face was still right above hers, only a few inches away. He smiled and leaned closer to her and glued a long kiss on her cheek. Scully closed her eyes and a tear rolled down her face.
“I … love … you …” She said painfully.
“No, no, no, don’t do that to me. Don’t you dare do that to me, Scully,” he argued, almost feeling the taste of blood in the back of his throat.
“I do,” she whispered.
“I’m not gonna say it back, Scully. Open your eyes, please. Scully, please do this for me.”
Jenny came back with a big first aid kit and a doctor. Finally, Mulder thought, praying that it wasn’t too late. The man said he wasn’t yet a doctor but an intern.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” he said while Jenny was covering the dead passenger with a bunch of blankets. “She needs a transfusion.”
“We can’t do a transfusion on a plane,” the doctor said, rummaging through the medical stuff, “but we can put a better damp-proof bandage on her wound.”
“And then what!?”
“Apply pressure.”
“You gotta do better than this. We don’t know how long we’re gonna be flying, she’ll never make it and that’s just not an option.”
“This is the best we can do, I’m sorry, we’re not equipped,” he said as he pullet out a thick sponge and a gauze bandage.
Mulder applied pressure, looked down at Scully and then looked up at Jenny with inquiring eyes hoping for a solution. Then he looked back at the young doctor.
“I’m rhesus negative, like her. O. O negative. Isn’t that the universal donor?”
“You can’t—”
“Is it?? Yes or no.”
“Yes but—”
“Then, do it! I wanna give her my blood.” As he spoke, he heard noises and arguments coming from the cockpit. One problem at a time, he thought and turned to the doctor again. “I said: Do it. There’s gotta be a couple of needles in there.”
“There are,” Jenny said as she bent down to find them. Taking in fast and shallow breaths, Mulder thanked her with wet eyes.
Ten minutes later, Mulder and Scully were linked together through a thin transparent tube filled with his blood. The intern had taken Mulder’s place and was pressing on her wound with the medical sponge, and Mulder was sitting on a crew seat above his partner’s head, kneading an invisible ball with his hand, his eyes locked on her. Without taking his eyes off her, he pulled his phone out of his jacket and quickly glanced at it, but it was still out of service.
“Stay higher than her,” the doctor said as Mulder kneeled to sit by her head.
Mulder gave him a glacial look and raised his arm above his head. As the doctor nodded, Mulder started to caress her hair with his free hand. He remained silent but his breathing had calmed down. For the first time in the last twenty minutes, he felt like he could fill his lungs with air again, as could she from what he could tell by the blanket movements over her chest. He felt that her cheeks were less white and cold than they were just moments before. A couple of minutes later, her eyes opened and sank into his.
“Hey,” he whispered, his heart pounding loud in his chest.
“What are you doing?” She asked as she saw the transfusion tube and noticed the other man above her legs.
“Oh, they were out of AB. But don’t worry, I’m compatible.”
“I know you’re compatible,” she said softly, “Thank you.”
“I was just really curious about that veggie burger,” he said while shifting down to stroke her head.
He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. Scully stayed still a minute while his lips brushed her skin and then slowly tilted her head back, her mouth reaching out for his. She moved her dry lips against his soft ones, sucking and licking his lower lip, which earned a groan from him. Mulder pulled back and locked eyes with her in wonder. He thought about the last time he had wanted to kiss her like this, and how it had all gone to hell when she had been stung by a bee. She smiled painfully at him, tears in the corners of her eyes. Was this all about her thinking she was dying? He knew this was not the time. This was not the place either. But he wanted this just as much as she seemed to. He felt a rush of adrenaline run through him. This had nothing to do with her dying on this plane. It had nothing to do with him left alone without ever having had the opportunity, the chance or even the courage to kiss her. He’d wanted this for months, for years. He lowered his arm that was starting to feel numb anyway and cupped her cheeks with both hands. He stared at her a few more moments and closed his eyes, closing the gap between them and then he covered her mouth with his again, gently thrusting his tongue between her lips. Their tongues slowly danced around each other, savoring and devouring each other’s flavors. They shared air like they did blood, like their lives depended on it. Literally. He felt her grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him closer to her, and he thumbed her jawline. Their breaths were uneven again, although it was no longer from worries and pain. Mulder felt light-headed, and he hated it but he had to pull away once more.
“Do you remember where you are? What happened?” He asked and she nodded. “We are still being held hostage,” he continued. “As much as I would love to kiss you, we have to take care of that too.” He paused, looked at her and fondled her hair. “How much more blood do you need? Mind leaving me some?” He smiled. She wanted to laugh but it hurt instead. “Sh-sh …” He murmured.
“How long have you been … hooked up?” She asked.
“Long enough, I think,” the young doctor said. “Hi, I’m Mark by the way. I think you’re out of trouble. I mean, you probably need surgery, but for now, I think you’ll be okay. I’ll keep applying pressure to it.”
“Thanks,” they both said.
They gazed at each other and Mulder slowly took the needle out of his arm. He put one knee on the ground, thrusted his fingers through her hair and kissed her tenderly and hungrily again. As he was standing up, Scully grabbed his hand and stopped him. She waited till he was looking at her to speak.
“Mulder, I meant what I said.” He looked at her, unsure he understood, and she clarified her thought. “I love you.”
Mulder’s heart skipped a beat; he felt he had just drowned in Scully’s deep blue eyes. He barely heard Jenny who had just rushed in, thrilled to announce that they were being escorted by two fighter jets. He rapidly turned his face toward Jenny, then back to Scully, wondering if he’d heard either of these women right. He wanted to believe. He bent down and laid his lips upon Scully’s cheek before whispering in her ear, “I love you too.” Then he looked straight into her eyes, making sure she’d heard him right, admiring the smile shaping on her lips and her eyes filling with tears, and then he stood up, wondering if his legs were weakened from the blood transfusion or his melting heart, still holding tightly to Scully’s hand. He asked Mark to stay with her, kissed her hand and started to leave with Jenny. Scully held on to his hand as long as possible, until she only held a finger, maybe even just a nail.
Although the seatbelt sign wasn’t off, most passengers were standing, some were trying to steal a peek at the jets. Mulder leaned down to see them too. As he put his hand upon the cabin wall, he realized his hands were still bloody red and jolted him back to the living nightmare they were in. Those jets would shoot them upon the slightest threat, a change of route, an altitude drop, anything … He stepped back and pulled Jenny along with him toward the crew compartment where they had met.
“Those jets are there to help but they’ll shoot us the first chance they get if we become any threat.”
“I know. What do you suggest we do?”
“We have to break in.”
“In? The cockpit?”
“Yes. But first, we have to find out if we’ve got a pilot on board. Or at least someone who’s taken flight lessons. In case your crew is dead.”
While Jenny looked for another pilot, Mulder gathered a team of strong men. Before he had found three volunteers, Jenny had a chopper pilot. They all walked toward the cockpit. Mark was still taking care of Scully, and Mulder asked him if they could move her, but Mark thought it was a bad idea.
The question of how to break in was answered by Jenny; the easiest way was probably to smash the toilets wall that was shared by the cockpit. That wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all they had. Mulder entered the toilets and stuck his ear against the thin wall. The men were put under stress because of the fighter jets. He kept listening, trying to isolate every voice until he was able to know how many of them there were. Three, he figured. And from what he’d heard, all three were terrorists. So Presley, the trainer and a third one. He didn’t know if the pilots were dead or just kept silent. None of the three had said anything that could have been addressed to any of the two official pilots. He remained there a while more, he wanted to have a hint, something to tell him at least one of the two pilots were alive. Forcing an entry with hostages inside was a lot different than without them. Let alone when the hostages in question were their best chance of keeping the plane steady and saving everybody’s asses. And eventually, he heard what he’d been hoping.
“Turn the plane around, now,” one of the terrorists ordered.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Just hear me out: I can’t, cause if I do, these jets are going to come down on us.”
Mulder didn’t need to hear any more and knew it was time to take action. When he exited the bathroom, he was facing Scully again. She was way too close to where the action was going to take place. Injured was better than dead, so he had to move her out of the way. He didn’t wait or ask for any permission this time. He just did. But he felt sorry he had to when he heard her terrible screams of pain. Jenny and her plan B pilot were standing back but Mulder was helped by all of his team’s powerfully built men and Mark kept pressure on the wound as they moved her, and yet she still suffered agony. If it were anybody but her, Mulder would have told them to keep it low, but with her, he just couldn’t. He gritted his teeth, talked to her, reassured her, but he hated himself right now. When Scully was out of what Mulder assumed would be bullet range, they settled her again on the floor. Some passengers had put down plenty of cushions on the floor below her. When Mark was positioning himself back over her legs in the narrow aisle, Scully yelled one last huge and long cry of pain.
Mulder was about to bawl Mark out when he heard the cockpit door violently opening. He couldn’t see it anymore but he saw one of his three volunteered musketeers duck in the direction of the cockpit. All of them rushed after him the exact moment a gunshot was fired. The detonation made Mulder, who was last in line, pull the guy in front of him by the back of his sweater, and change direction, go to the other aisle, the one directly facing the cockpit door. During the two short seconds it took them to access the cockpit door, Mulder heard a fight. In his heart, he felt all the men were still alive and fighting over the gun. Hard to believe how many punches one could hear within two seconds. As they arrived at the end of the row and were still hidden and protected by the lavatory partition, Mulder poked his face very quickly out of the partition and withdrew it. He waved passengers around to duck and they hid under their seats, and then he whispered to Porthos, his new partner of the day, that there was a terrorist — the one who made him think of Elvis — blocking the cockpit door and that he was going in. Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Mulder bashed in the terrorist’s legs who fell face to the ground over Mulder’s back. Porthos, who was built like the side of a house, raised his fist in the air and aimed it down to the terrorist’s face. Knocked out. No need for a round two; Mulder felt as if he had a dead body on his back. While Porthos pulled him away to let Mulder free, Mulder was watching the other fight which seemed a little more complicated although it was an unfair two against one. Mulder picked up the gun and entered the cockpit after he rapidly asked Porthos to give Athos and Aramis some help. As soon as he stepped inside, he received a violent punch that made him fly against the cockpit wall. The co-pilot stood up and whipped back, charging toward the terrorist, knocking him hard against the common wall to the lavatory. The gun went off, missing Mulder just barely as he rushed to help. They all exchanged a few more punches until Mulder managed to get a hold on the gun and aimed it toward him. As the terrorist wasn’t willing to give in, Mulder shot him in the knee, thinking to himself this was little compensation for Scully’s thigh. Porthos came in handy and finished the job.
“How are we doing?” Mulder asked the pilot.
“I think we’re doing good. We’re seventy-eight degrees off our original route but I think we’re good. Are the three of them all out?”
“Yes. Can you land this plane?”
“Actually, there’s an airport right underneath us, but they broke all of our communication instruments and if we start our descent now, I’m not sure how those jets are going to take it.”
Mulder looked through the windows; there was a jet a few feet away from each wing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Chris Tyler, your captain speaking, I am pleased to tell you that we are now back in command and we will soon start our descent downward toward Atlanta.” He felt proud when he heard the passengers applaud and yell cries of relief and joy.
“This is Agent Mulder speaking. I work with the FBI and I want all of you to check on your phones, please. If any of you have a signal, please walk to the cockpit,” Mulder spoke afterward.
While waiting for passengers to show up, Mulder returned to Scully. On his way, he saw the two other terrorists, knocked out, and being tied up with whatever rope passengers could find; belts, blankets, sweaters. His improvised Marshall team did a great job.
“The adrenalin that her body released when she’d been shot anesthetized her for a while, but now she’s in a lot of pain,” Mark said as Mulder was leaning down by Scully’s head. Her eyes were closed, her eyebrows furrowed, her forehead puckered, her whole body was trembling and she was moaning.
“Scully, you’ll be in a hospital in no time now,” he half lied, “you heard the pilot, it’s almost over, you hang in here.” He softly stroked her hair as he spoke to her. “All we have to do is to get rid of those jets now,” he said to himself as though he was looking for a way to do so.
He lifted his head to breathe deeply and to think this through. On the seat next to where he had kneeled was a young boy who was drawing. Mulder smiled, bent down and quickly kissed Scully’s forehead.
“You’ll be in a hospital in no time,” he repeated before he got up.
He said a word to the boy’s father and borrowed his yellow writing pad and markers. With the help of Jenny and a bunch of passengers, five minutes later everyone who was sitting next to a window was holding a sheet of paper against it, each one with one big letter on it. From the outside, the jets’ pilots could read: “SAFE - NO COMMUNICATION - NEED 2 LAND.” Mulder was back by Scully’s side when Jenny came with the good news; the fighter jets were now flying ahead of them and clearing their path.
— EPILOGUE —
When Scully woke up in a hospital room, Mulder was sleeping in a chair, his whole body contorted with his head settled upon his bent arm. His arms were wrapped around himself in a self hug over his jacket that he used as a blanket and he had taken his shoes off, one foot resting on her bed. A little pack of sunflower seeds had fallen and spilled on the floor next to him. Scully knew he probably had not slept during however long her surgery had taken and had fought his tiredness as long as he possibly could to be here when she woke up. Her leg was tightly wrapped from groin to knee and lightly elevated. She narrowed her eyes in pain and wished she could grab the medical chart at the end of her bed.
Scully used the remote to lift the head of the bed up and turned the TV on, lowering the volume; the breaking news of their hijacked plane was on every channel. The scrolling text on the news read 1:07AM. After ten to fifteen minutes, there was a small knock on the door and a doctor walked in.
“We were able to save your leg,” he said after introducing himself as her surgeon. He spoke in a low voice as he had noted Mulder sleeping. “You were very lucky; the bullet hit the femoral artery without touching a bone. I heard you were a doctor, so I don’t need to tell to you that if it weren’t for the blood transfusion, you’d be dead or a leg short. We sewed the artery up, and with a little rest you’ll be fine.”
Mulder opened his eyes at the sound of the door closing behind the surgeon and sat upright, looking at Scully, his eyes red. She gazed back at him and extended her arm, reaching out for his hand, pleading with him wordlessly to squeeze it. He leaned over and took her hand, squeezed it, and then stood up and sat by her side on the bed. Mulder looked down and laid his other hand flat upon Scully’s bandage at the exact spot where the wound was. Under the thickness of the gauze, Scully instantly felt his hand’s warmth spreading throughout all her leg. She cocked her head to the side and kept her eyes on him. She knew what he was thinking about. While Mulder was struggling with the remanent of today’s memories, Scully was feeling her admiration and love for this man grow, feeling her belly lurch and quiver nervously.
“Hey,” she said softly, undressing him with her eyes and brushing away a strand of hair on his forehead, “you should get some rest.”
“Yeah, I guess I should,” he replied, looking back up to meet her adoring gaze.
Yet, he didn’t move. He just locked eyes with her and felt her hand tightening harder against his. They stayed silent for a minute and Mulder pulled her gently to him, pressing his chest against hers, and they rested each other’s chin on the other’s shoulder. When Mulder engulfed her back with his arms and his hands stroked her delicate skin underneath her open-backed hospital gown, Scully shivered and her eyes fluttered closed.
“You cold?” He asked in her neck, breathing out a warm stream there.
“No. I’m good, Mulder,” she said, her fingers self-consciously drawing small circles around the curls in the nape of his neck, and she bit her lip. “Mulder?”
“Hmm?”
“If you keep stroking my bare back like this, I might want to jump on you right here,” she said into his back, her pupils dilating with growing arousal as she spoke, “which unfortunately, at the moment, is physically impossible for me to do.”
“What?” He asked, widening his eyes and smiling, pulling back to meet her eyes again.
“Back in that plane, Mulder, I didn’t kiss you because I needed a rush of adrenaline to ease the pain or because I thought I would die today — well, not only,” she said after a short silent that felt like eternity. She took his hand and pressed it vigorously. Mulder held her intense gaze and raised his free hand to fondle her pink cheeks as she continued, “What I mean to say is … I’d be more than happy to let you try my favorite veggie burg—”
He cut her off with a kiss. Gently at first but desire smoldered inside of them. Seizing the collar of his dress shirt, Scully stretched higher, her breasts against his chest. His hands slipped along her neck, running his fingers through her hair. Intoxicated, she replied to his kiss, tasting all the delights of his lips. He tightened his grip, digging his fingers into her hair, leaning over and wrapping his arms around her naked waist and back. Scully nipped at his lips and tongue passionately. In his chest, it was as if a fireball had exploded from excitement, tearing apart all of his organs one by one. Breathing erratically, hands still clinging to his shirt, she felt his breath sweep her face as she tasted this feverish, consuming kiss. He felt dizzy, his head lighter than if he had spent the night drinking. She felt her heart had been hijacked. They both urgently retreated from the kiss, gasping for some air but couldn’t take their eyes off each other’s, magnetized. Mulder’s whole body had hardened in the languorous exchange and Scully felt her belly deliciously ache and her center was soaking wet.
“When will you be out of here?” He asked her, breathless.
“Not until a couple of days.”
“Okay,” he said, “we managed to wait five years, I’m sure we can handle a couple of more days,” he smiled as he combed her hair from her forehead.
“I guess,” she smiled. “You’re driving us back home though. I’m not flying to Albuquerque nor to DC.”
“Meanwhile,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and leaning against her, “I think I should listen to my doctor’s advice to get some rest but I didn’t have the time to book myself in.”
She moved a little painfully to the side of the bed and made room for him while he lowered the head of the bed. Lying on his side, he pushed his arm under her head and bent his elbow to stroke her hair, almost capturing her head. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, then her temple and laid his forehead against her head, his hot breath thoroughly blowing in the curve of her neck. When his other hand slid tenderly on her stomach, she took his hand and caressed his arm with her other hand. Mulder was precious, pure, loyal and respectful. He smiled even in difficult times, especially in difficult times. Wasn’t this the very definition of love? He gave and received. She couldn’t believe they had waited this long to finally come to this. This incredible kiss filled with electricity, he thought. When those three guys took over their flight, not only did they changed the plane’s path, they changed Mulder and Scully’s too. There was a little good in every misdeed.