So sorry about the time! There is no real excuse... But, I can contribute it partly to my muses. Not that they're not active- they're OVER active, and I can only do so many things at once while pleasing them.

They have been waging war in my head, literally. There are times when I can't even sleep for hours at a time because of the headache they're giving me. For every sentence I write, it takes a good couple of minutes before they can agree on how it should be phrased and such. The fact that they're polar opposites does not help. Four muses, one story... Got to love 'em...

East of Amity Park, California

7:00 AM Pacific Time

Mulder and Scully were nearing there final destination-- Amity International Airport. They were descending, nearing seventeen thousand feet, after four horrific hours of cramped quarters and stale, salty snacks. Their dietitians would have it in for them.

Scully was reading a book labeled 'Contact' with a passion in her center seat. She was determined to bridge the gap between her and Mulder over the paranormal, or else. She may have accepted it, even defended it, but she wanted to do more than that.

If she didn't, the gap would only grow, and the trust they had might fall through the fissure, no matter how stable the bridge. Mulder wasn't getting more logical, so she had to be more superstitious.

Said Mulder was, by gum, laughing all the while she was pondering this, happily answering the plane's trivia game with the enthusiasm anybody else would think only a child could muster. but Scully knew it was normal- it was Mulder in one of his many forms; the overenthusiastic child, amused by everything, no matter how absurd or naive.

He saw the next question come up, and grinned a feral grin behind his cup of complementary 'coffee' (if the standards allowed as such). He poked Scully in the shoulder playfully, grinning like a hyperactive nut. Or a kid that wants something from their mom and is ready to butter them up. Scully lowered her book to give him an incredulous stare, subconsciously raising her 'cutesy' shield. Big brown puppy dog eyes be damned, she was actually enjoying this story.

Mulder took no notice of his partner's less than enthusiastic reply to his continued prodding, and whispered in her ear, "Hey Scully; Do you know where was Elvis born?"

Sculled rolled her eyes at what she should have expected from her work partner. He'd never change. She silently berated herself for not seeing that coming before answering, "Mulder, how should I know? I'm not exactly a rocker. Or a hipster. Or a rapper. Or much anything else besides Classical music; and maybe The Beatles when I feel like letting my hair down."

Mulder gawked at his partner's musical choice so long that the trivia game moved on to the next question, 'Who wrote Uncle Tom's Cabin?' "Come on Scully, not even you could be manage to be that high brow and still willingly come within a thirty mile radius of me. I know you have to have something stashed on your walk man"

Scully rolled her eyes and returned to her book, murmuring, "Mulder, I don't even have a walk man..." However, her Carl Sagan novel was cut short by the sound of explosions echoing from somewhere far away.

Nowhere on the plane, at least- that was the farthest they could tell, as the thick skin of the plane would have distorted it. but it was a sound they had long trained their ears to pick up, no matter the distance or location.

Both the agents looked to each other, shrugged, and turned to look out Mulder's window, trying to see just what was going on in the open sky outside their compartment.

Suddenly, a black and white something, followed by a red something, darted from the right side of the window to the left, made a sharp turn, and raced toward the aircraft at a blinding pace. Calls of 'I'LL GET YOU GHOST!' were just audible through the thick glass making up the pane.

The white and black blur was growing bigger, eventually growing large enough to be recognized as a kind of humanoid figure. Of course, by the time that was apparent it was accelerating at an outrageous rate, and looked to be liable to crash into the plane. Quite hard.

Both agents let instinct take hold- they sheltered their head with their arms and watched out the corners of their eyes for the impact. An impact that would never come- the figure disappeared less than a second away from splattering like a bug on a windshield. It disappeared part way, anyway. There was still a sort of outline, like when two microscope slides aren't lined up just so.

The outline zoomed into the airplane, and then through it, right over the legs of our duo. Their drinks splattered all over their laps- not that they noticed in the excitement. Human figures flying through airplane walls tends to be a bit more attention grabbing than spilled water and diluted coffee.

Blasts were sounding from above now, along with cries of, "What're you thinking, you could've made me hit the plane!" which were followed by calls of, "I'd make you hit the plane? You're the one with the gun!"

People all through the plane were beginning to notice what was going on and, as their instincts told them, started to panic. Someone behind the agents was chanting 'remember nine-eleven' under their breath while fingering their pocket. The agents were preparing to address the cabin when the intercom came on, diverting their attention from the flying figures.

'Attention passengers- there is no cause for alarm. You have just been witness to one of the mysterious aerial battles between Danny Phantom and the Red Huntress, renowned through out the paranormal world!

'They have both moved away from the airspace. Stay calm, we will be landing shortly. Fasten your seat belts and return your seats to the up-right position"

Both agents just sat there, stunned at the calm that took hold, as if two flying things hadn't just tried to kill each other over their heads. They stayed that until Mulder deadpanned, "There goes my kids-in-bed sheets theory."

They both watched across the aisle as the two forms shrank toward the horizon, occasional pink or green lights able to be seen even after they'd shrunk beyond recognition. They stared until the two were lost all together by the low cloud layer billowing around the plane.

Casper High School, Amity Park, California

11:00 AM

A thin blue eyed youth with messy black hair was sitting uncomfortably in his plastic desk-chair, fidgeting occasionally. He barely blinked, eying the clock with the kind of heated glare that didn't belong on someone twice his age. With every little tick, he tapped his index finger against the corner of the desk, bumping the calloused end into the same dented spot. "Come on..."

It rang, at last, in his opinion. He nearly jumped out of his seat, before the others had even reacted. In a burst of speed he grabbed his books, stuffed them into his heavily taped backpack, and made his way toward the door with more urgency than was absolutely necessary.

The others followed in single file, not bothering to pay attention to his odd behavior any more than to the pattern of the partly-cloudy sky. Neither had much outcome on their lives, and should not be treated as such. Such were normal, average.

On his way out the door, he stopped mid step, halting the students behind him. The others grumbled at the hold up, but made no words against the young man. His mouth opened in a look of utmost horror as he gasped openly at the empty hall. His breath was, oddly, a visible cloud of fog, despite the glowing sunlight beaming through the window and against his back.

He hastened his steps out of the room and almost ran into the closest restroom, dodging around the other students with a surprising ease. He slammed the heavy door behind himself and waited a minute to see if another would come. He checked under the stall doors for shoes or backpacks. They were empty- He was alone. He breathed out a sigh of relief, his breath no longer visible to the naked eye. He returned to the center of the small room, dropping everything off his back.

A bright light erupted from underneath the door of the restroom, and then disappeared just as suddenly, leaving those in the hallway to ponder at the unknown source. But none checked the room for problems- the light bulbs had been on the fritz in the bathrooms ever since school started, it was nothing unusual.

Although the boy's teacher would be left wondering where had had gone when his previous class was four doors down.