No Comments on Coach


Summary: Jet plane weirdness.

Author: Folieadeux
Rating: None
Category: Vignette, Humor, Challenge
Spoilers: None
Distribution: Sure, as long as the headers stay intact. Please let me know so I can visit.
Feedback: Hell yeah. folieadeux98[at]gmail[dot]com
Disclaimer: Not mine. Too bad. No money made.

Not beta’d – sorry for any mistakes. Love feedback in the form of beta, btw.

Author’s notes at the end.


“I hate coach.” Mulder muttered under his breath as he stretched his arms above him, laying his palms flat against the console. “It’s tall person torture.” Arching his spine as far forward as he could, the unmistakable popping of vertebra could be heard.

“It’s not so bad.” Scully replied, as she sat primly in the window seat, feet barely touching the floor.

Wiggling in his seat Mulder tugged the fabric at his knees hoping to relieve the uncomfortable bunching at his crotch. “Maybe next time you could ride in the overhead compartment?”

“Very funny.”

“Excuse me, sir. Did you need something?”

Momentarily pausing their bored bickering both agents turned to the flight attendant – confusion flickering across their faces.

The woman smiled warmly at Mulder as she used her index finger to point to the flashing light above his head. “You rang the call bell, do you need anything?”

Pivoting his head upward Mulder watched the flashing light above his head. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize I’d pressed the button.” He chewed self-consciously on his lower lip.

“That’s all right.” She leaned down in the aisle in order to level her gaze at him. “Since I’m here already, is there anything I can do for you?”

She smiled warmly at Mulder and he could smell her minty breath. Looking over his shoulder at Scully, Mulder bugged his eyes out. “You need anything?”

Leaning over her partner towards the aisle, Scully placed her small hand on Mulder’s knee, “Yes, thank you. May I have a 7-up with a glass of ice?”

“Certainly. I’ll be right back.” The attendant straightened, flashed Scully a too bright smile, and made her way to the back of the plane.

Folding his arms across his chest Mulder relaxed into his seat, a bemused expression on his face. “That was mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you ready to play?” Scully looked at him blankly, a tablet of paper on her lap and a pencil in her hand.

Keeping his arms folded Mulder rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “A.”

Scully drew a head on his figure.

Scrutinizing the dashes Mulder continued, “E.”

Scully placed an E on one of the dashes.

Pursing his lips, Mulder contemplated his next move. “I.”

“Why don’t you just say all the vowels and stop pretending you’re not going to say them?”

“Listen, my method is scientifically sound. Now quit trying to distract me.”

Scully filled in two blanks with the letter I.

“Ha! Told you.”

“Good afternoon everyone, this is your captain speaking. I hope you’re enjoying the flight. As usual, I’m exactly on schedule and we should be arriving in Seattle on time. If you fly with us often you may already know that I have the best record for on time arrivals in the fleet. If you didn’t, well, now you do.”

No one spoke waiting for the voice to continue.

“What’s he waiting for, applause?” Mulder snorted.

“That’s okay people, feel free to applaud.”

A smattering of claps could be heard throughout the cabin.

“Thank you.”

Scully placed both hands over her mouth to conceal her burst of laughter.

“Is he kidding?” Mulder mouthed, his brows knitted in disbelief.

“The flight crew will now be handing out a small pamphlet outlining my career, just to let you know about my education and experience. I find people are often curious about airline pilots and I want you to feel comfortable and safe while you are flying with us here at Heart Air.”

By now Scully was folded over in her seat pressing her face to her knees in an effort to control her laughter. Open-mouthed, Mulder watched in astonishment as the flight crew began to hand out small rectangular pieces of paper, the captain’s head shot could be seen at the top.

“No way.” Mulder glanced over at Scully who was trying valiantly to regain her composure and failing miserably. The look on Mulder’s face sent her into another fit of laughter and she turned to look out the window in an effort to save herself.

“Would you like a handout?” A male flight attendant motioned towards Mulder with the paper in his hand.

“Definitely. And one for her as well.” Mulder motioned to Scully who was staring intently out her window.

While Mulder was looking over his pamphlet the previous flight attendant arrived with Scully’s soda and plastic cup of ice.

“Excuse me ma’am. Here’s your drink.”

Finally turning away from the window Scully reached for her beverage and cup. Her face was red and her eyes were bright with tears of laughter.

“Thank you.”

The flight attendant gave her a confused once over before deciding she didn’t really care and returned to her duties.

Mulder shifted his attention from the pamphlet to his partner. His face reflecting a certain softness that was apt to overtake him at displays of light heartedness on her part. “You okay?”

Scully took a long drink of her soda and let out a rush of breath as it burned her throat. “Yes. I’m fine now. Thank god he stopped though.”

“Your face is all red.”

“Don’t talk about it or it won’t go away.”

“I don’t think I want it to go away.”

She pivoted in her seat in order to face him a bit more. Only a few blotches remained at her throat. Laying her head against her seat back she looked thoughtful for a moment.

Mulder mirrored her movement trying to pivot himself a little more towards her direction. Leaning his head sideways he rested against his seat back as well. “What?”

“I was just wondering how many hours we’ve logged together in airports and airplanes. It must be an incredible number by now.”

Mulder watched her face carefully for a moment, her expression was clear.

“Not as many as Merhan Karimi Nasseri.”


“Merhan Karimi Nasseri, he’s lived in the Charles de Gaulle airport since 1988.”


“It’s true.”

Scully eyed him suspiciously but in the end, she gave in. “Okay, lets here it.”

Eyes smiling, he began his tale, “After being kicked out of Iran for being a political dissident he tried to gain refugee status from just about every European country without success. Finally, the UN High Commission in Belgium offered him refugee status. He only had to choose which European country he wanted to live in. His mother had been British so he chose the UK. Unfortunately, the briefcase containing his UN diplomatic papers was stolen on a train in Paris.”

“What happened?”

“He decided to board a plane for England anyway. But when the authorities at Heathrow discovered he had no papers, they made him go back to Paris. Then the French police arrested him for illegal entry, but because he had no diplomatic papers, there was no country to deport him to.

“Didn’t anyone try and help him?”

“Uh huh. A human rights lawyer finally got the French courts to agree that he had not entered the airport illegally, so he couldn’t be thrown out of it. But, the courts couldn’t force France to grant him citizenship. In fact, French authorities refused to give Nasseri either a refugee or transit visa.”

“That’s insane. So he’s just been sitting there?”

“His lawyer decided to appeal to Belgium, hoping they would resend his papers to him, but Belgian refugee officials refused to mail them to him in France. They argued that Nasseri had to present himself in person so that they could be sure he was the same man they had granted political asylum years before.”

“Good Lord.”

“So, Belgium said he had to show up in person to claim copies of the stolen documents, but he’s not allowed entry to the country. Come to find out there’s some sort of whacko Belgium law that says once you’ve voluntarily left a country that has given you refugee status, you can’t go back.”

“So he’s still there?”

“Uh huh. Although in 1999 he was finally issued a travel card and a French residency permit which would enable him to leave the airport. But he refuses to sign them.”

“Why not?”

“They listed his nationality as Iranian, and he wants the papers to say he’s British. So he refuses to sign and sits in the Charles de Gaulle airport to this day.”

“That’s insane.”

“Actually, that’s exactly what it is. After all the years of sitting in the airport, he’s lost touch with reality. They say he sits quietly with tattered suitcases at the same table in the same spot and reads book after book. A man who time has altogether passed by.”

Scully stared at Mulder, wide eyed with concern. “You’re not lying to me are you?”

“No, I swear it. It’s a true story.” Mulder brought his hand up giving her the Boy Scout salute.

Scully sat musing over the latest bizarre tale told to her by Fox Mulder. Trying to figure out how sad she should let it make her feel. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore, “Mulder, that’s such
a sad story.”

“But doesn’t it make you feel a little better about the amount of time we spend in airports?”

“No!” She straightened herself in her chair and then leaned back into her seat. “That’s just awful.”

Trying not to laugh, Mulder reached his hand out to rest it on her arm. “I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t mean to depress you. Really, I’m sorry if you didn’t like my story.”

“I didn’t.”

“Fair enough. O.”

Turning her face to him she looked a little confused. Finally her expression cleared and she reached down and retrieved the tablet and pencil she had dropped during her earlier laughing fit. She drew a line for the doomed figure’s body. “I knew you would do all the vowels.”

“S.” He replied smugly.

Smiling, she filled in a dash with his S.


A leg appeared.


A second leg appeared.

“This isn’t one of those ridiculously unfair science words is it?” Mulder scowled at her.

“No more ridiculous then FROWZY, thank you very much.”

“Hey, that’s a legitimate word; can I help it if it had only one vowel?”

“You spend nights just scanning the dictionary for words like that, don’t you?”

“Are you implying that I have no life?”

Scully placed her hand on her chest in a mock expression of surprise. “Would I do that?”


Scully gave him a letter on the first dash.

“Yes!” Mulder exclaimed with exaggerated glee. “Y.”

Scully filled in the second dash and began to look worried.


The figure grew an arm. “Only one more guess, Mulder, and you’re toast.”

“Can’t we do shoes this time?”

“You know the rules, no shoes.”

“Were you this mean to your brothers?”

“Come on, quit stalling.”

Taking a moment to reflect on the dashes Mulder finally said.

Scully filled in the fourth dash.

“Mysti…mysti..” He tapped his index finger against his bottom lip deep in concentration. “Mysti mysti bo bisti, banana fanna fo fisti..”

Laughing, Scully asked, “Is that your final answer?”

“Crap.” He placed his fingers against his eyes and tried to see the word in his head. It was useless, he had no idea. Taking a stab at it he said, “F.”

Scully subjected Mulder’s figure to the final throws of death. Turning her head to him she gave him her best ‘you lose’ leer.

“So what the hell was it?”

Filling in the blanks Scully revealed M-Y-S-T-I-C-E-T-I. “It’s a toothless whale.”

Looking at her blankly for a few moments, Mulder finally straightened in his chair and began organizing his area for decent. Standing up in the aisle he opened the overhead compartment a pulled out his travel bag.


Continuing to ignore her he began placing various paperwork from the seat pocket into his carry-on.

“Mulder, you’re being a sore loser.”

“A toothless whale!”

For the second time during their flight the look on Mulder’s face sent Scully into a fit of laughter.


Author’s Notes: Written for the Haven’s March 03 “Tell Us A Story” challenge. Elements: Tell a story (myth, fairy tale, urban legend etc), a heart, a muse (I cheated a bit here but I could NOT figure this part out), torture, a whale, someone getting or being organized, hubris. I struggled with this little SOB till the very end so it wasn’t beta’d – sorry if there’s any mistakes.

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