Fear of Flying
by Monnie
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Scream characters, which would be a good thing, because I'd bump Gale and Dewey together all the live long day making kissy noises.
Author's Note: This is a submission for a fanfiction contest on a completely unrelatedtothefandom message board. It's my first, and probably last, post in this category, so bare with me. ;) This fic takes place in between Scream 2 and 3. Gale/Dewey. Dedicated to my Ez and Sarah, wives and betas. And to Claire, who would be my wife and beta, but we're not officially seeing each other... yet.
"I'm coming with you!"
These last words she uttered before boarding the ambulance to be at his side. He was delirious, muttering to himself about cowboys and bananas as she gazed hopefully upon his bloodstained face. The hospital seemed farther away than it was, as his condition was critical and every second was costly. He'd been stabbed in the back, in the very same place he was stabbed before that. This deputy was prone to playing the nearly fallen hero.
Through his somewhat conscious state, he saw the copper streaks of a woman he was sure he recognized. He'd called her name before, but there was always a chance his vision was going, and she was just a dream.
With one hand, she reached out and stroked his hair fondly. His eyes closed as she did so, and a smile curled her lips, an unfamiliar moisture pooling at the corners of her eyes. She tore her gaze from him to anything else, waiting for the ambulance to slow or stop, signaling their arrival. This sign did not arrive for another five minutes.
She was not permitted to follow him into the ER, so she relented and sat in an uncomfortable waiting room chair. Slipping and sliding, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It was a lost cause; it was as if her senses clung to whatever remnants of noise there was in the room and amplified it past any sensible volume within her mind. The hum of the ceiling fan became the grinding of a chainsaw, and no matter how much she tried to push it away, still it lingered. Finally, just as the nurse at the nearby desk had sensed her restlessness and turned off the fan, the ER doors opened. She snapped to attention, blinkingly unaware.
"Are you Gale Weathers?"
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes. What do you want me to sign?" She held her hand out irritably, and realized she was being addressed by a doctor. He raised an eyebrow.
"Dewey Riley has been asking for you since he regained coherent speech."
"Oh." She disguised her embarrassment with a cheeky grin, and stood to accompany him.
A wave of relief overwhelmed her being when she saw him lying, eyes open, without an oxygen mask on. As she approached him, he broke out into a smile and squeezed her hand gently when she took hold of his.
His first words to her were, "Are you all right?"
She laughed airily and shook her head. "Of course I'm not, I've been shot. But you scared the hell outta me, Dewey!"
"I'm sorry."
She knelt to kiss his hand. "No, I am. I never should've left your side."
"Isn't that the guy's line?"
"Who's the victim here?" She looked pointedly at him.
"At least your cynicism is still intact."
She rolled her eyes, and slowly sobered. After a moment, she said softly, "I really thought I'd lost you."
"That'll never happen."
Her eyes flicked downwards to his lips and back to his eyes, as she dared to reveal herself to him again. She leaned towards him as he tilted his head up to capture her lips with his. She tenderly rested her fingertips on his cheek, and smiled inwardly at the sound of his heart rate on the EKG behind her rising. With what strength was in his muscles, he threaded his fingers in her hair as she shifted her weight to better accommodate him. It was she who deepened the kiss only slightly, hoping that no one would find them engaged so intimately. But no matter how much her conscience told her that this was no place to be kissing anyone, let alone Dewey Riley, whom she seemed to lose all self control with, she couldn't bring herself to stop. Had they been somewhere private, she probably wouldn't have prevented him from tearing through all her clothes and having his way with her. But her restraint wasn't that weak, even with him, so she settled for the warm, inviting sensations of his chaste caresses and soft lips, devouring her, and slowly driving her insane in the most delicious way.
"Excuse me," a doctor stepped into the room and then, immediately, realizing their position, stumbled. "Oh, sorry."
"No, it's okay." Dewey sought Gale's hand and clasped it, smiling. "What do you need?"
"Umm, there's a woman here to see you."
"Oh, send her in." The doctor exited, and Gale stole another kiss. Dewey followed her lips to the last possible moment.
With a smile, she stood and ruffled his hair. "I'll come back later, okay?"
He nodded, and she turned away to leave, glancing back into his kind eyes before stepping out. A dark haired woman crossed Gale's path and they exchanged glances before she went into Dewey's room.
He smiled as she entered. "Hey Sid."
A pleasant few months passed since their visit to the hospital, and Dewey had decided on a whim to take Gale out to a hotel for a weekend. She reluctantly agreed, allowing herself to be dragged to the outskirts of Woodsboro, so long as he'd let her bring her camera along.
"It's not like I'd be stopping you if I said 'no', anyway."
"Always be prepared," was her only reply.
Friday and Saturday came and went peacefully; they spent one afternoon in the park, where Gale was approached several times by reluctant fans, only to be shooed away until she caved and signed her book for them.
"It was a publicity stunt!" She exclaimed to a disbelieving but thoroughly amused Dewey.
That Sunday evening, they stayed in, hoping to rekindle their excitement after they'd confirmed that they were nearly prepared to leave come morning. They settled in for a bottle of wine over pleasant conversation, and an equally pleasant meal.
When they'd tidied up and filled their glasses once more, they both took a seat on the suite's sofa to chat.
"So..." he started lamely.
"So... I thought maybe now would be the best time to break some news."
He leaned forward attentively. "Oh? What is it?"
"It's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now. I've – gotten a call."
"For what?"
She took a deep breath. "They want me to do 60 Minutes II. On locale in New York City."
Dewey blinked at her. "You're going to New York?"
"We're going to New York. Dewey, I want you to come with me." She set her wine down and leaned towards him. "Think about it. A brand new start, a brand new city. We could be together there. I – I could get you a job. We could make it work!"
He shook his head. "I dunno, Gale..."
"Come on!" She pled. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
He patted his shoulder tenderly. "I think I have enough adventure as it is."
"Oh, please, you're going to let a couple stab wounds slow your pace of life?"
"Well, yeah!" He set down his wine glass and stood up. "I mean, Gale, this is a big deal to me! Moving to New York might be the easiest thing in the world for you, but you asking me to come with you is asking me to uproot everything I've built here! I have a job, I have a family, I have a reputation!"
"And I don't?!" Gale stood up as well. "Dewey, you're making this far more complicated than it is!"
"No, you are making it far too simple! I can't just abandon my life for you!"
"You used to say I was your life." Gale muttered bitterly, turning away from him.
He grabbed at his hair in frustration. "I just – you can't spring something so huge on me like this and expect an answer right away. I have to – to think things through!"
He reached to place a hand on her shoulder, but she spun around harshly, pointing an accusing finger at him as he recoiled.
"Well, you'd better do some quick thinking. My flight leaves on Thursday." She strode past him and into their bedroom.
"On Thursday. Yeah, I can definitely have an answer to you by then." He spat.
She whipped around to deliver her signature glare. "I don't care for your contemptuous remarks, Dwight. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do."
"What?"
"You really are a little boy, aren't you?" She tossed her bag on the bed, and began throwing things into it.
"You're really going?"
"Yes! Let me make it clearer for you." She zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder, pulling her stilettos over her shapely feet rampaging to the door. Before Dewey could get another word in edgewise, she threw him another vicious glare and a retort dripping with disdain, "Thank you for these last vivacious hours, and – have a nice life." Before promptly slamming the door in his face.
Three days later, another, larger suitcase was tossed onto a bed. This one's destination: Manhattan.
Gale was in a rush to fit herself into a schedule, as deadlines always seemed to help her focus. But today, her focus was straying her far from her deadline.
He hadn't called all week.
She kept looking at the phone, wishing that if she stared at it, it'd ring. Not once. She fastened her clothes in place, and closed the last suitcase, dressing for bed. Sure, she was nervous, why wouldn't she be? It was a new place, a new city, a new life. She flipped on the light in the bathroom, gazing at her reflection.
She just wasn't planning on facing it alone.
"Now boarding flight 259 to JFK New York City, flight 259 to JFK."
Gale looked up from her newspaper. This was it. She folded it neatly and set it beside her, standing up. She slipped her bag over her shoulder and fumbled for her boarding pass. As she stepped in line, a new fear began to take over her: flying.
She'd forgotten about flying. It was something she'd avoid if given the chance to. Something about that pull she got when they lifted off gave her the chills. But she never showed it. She never showed anything anymore, except anger. It was all she had to distance herself. Now, it seemed, it was literally distancing her. She didn't have anyone. Not really. Her family was gone, she didn't have any friends, and the one man she ever considered letting into her shelled existence had no real intention to do so. But still, as it was, she stood high, her head up, both eyes open, and she was going to face the world, the way she always did.
Three steps forward, and fate intervened.
"Gale!"
She turned around to find the source of that achingly familiar call of her name, and standing in front of her was the only man whose words had ever made her cry, whether she'd told him so or not.
"Dewey."
"I can't let you leave like this. I – I can't let you leave me like this."
"Dewey, I have a ticket, I'm going."
He grasped her shoulders gently. "I know you're going. I just – can't let you go thinking I never wanted to speak to you again."
She clasped her hands against his neck. "I knew it wasn't that way," she reassured him, and partially herself.
"You don't sound so sure."
Three steps forward, and she lost all control.
"I do now." Her arms slipping entirely around his neck, she pressed her lips against his in a farewell, but when he moved to pull away, she stepped with him, unable to release him as he enticed her, delicately flicking his tongue into her mouth, preventing her from doing anything but stand there, returning his kiss. Ignoring the bustle of people behind her, ignoring the attendant's second call to board, ignoring the pains of fright in her heart, ignoring every fiber of her being, crying out that this was wrong.
"You sure you won't come with me?"
"I'm sure. My place is here."
She kissed him desperately once more, looking deeply into those brown eyes, longing for his presence, but she knew he was gone already. Turning away with an aching heart, she handed the attendant her boarding pass.
Three steps forward, and she let him go.