The bumpy flight did nothing to help Scully keep her apple fritter down. She reached forward and as discretely as possible used the barf bag, so nicely provided by the airline. Mulder gave her a look of pure disgust. Then, as if they had some sensor built into the barf bag, a stewardess arrived to take the used bag from Scully and offer her a glass of water.
Scully looked pitiful as she sat there sipping her water. Her face had blanched and she had a slight sheen of sweat across her skin. The flight was still bumpy and Mulder briefly considered complaining to the head office of this particular airline. They had made his beloved Scully ill. Mulder curled his upper lip in disgust, but leaned over to comfort poor Scully anyways.
Finally, after Scully made good use of several more barf bags, the flight came in to land at the Vancouver International Air Port. Mulder held her tightly as she staggered off the plane. As they reached the baggage claim, they were approached by several Mounties in full dress uniform (who knew..)
"Are you Agents Mulder and Scully?" inquired one of the men.
Scully let out a rather unlady-like belch and Mulder replied, "yes we are, pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Your partner, Agent Scully, looks a little green around the gills. Has she been drinking?" asked another mountie.
Mulder shook his head emphatically, he didn't want them to get the wrong impression of her.
"So no, she hasn't been drinking? Might I offer you this Molson Canadian then?" He handed her a can of beer.
Scully burped again and Mulder took the beer from the man, "you guys are police and you're handing out beer to innocent ladies?? What kind of country is this???"
The Police men looked at one another and held up their hands in a gesture of defeat. Mulder looked very impressed with himself and pocketed the beer for later.
"Could we please move onto business?" asked Mulder, "I would really like to know why my partner and I, two AMERICAN FBI AGENTS, are here in Canada!"
The mounties paled at Mulder's impressive display of machoism. They knew they could never be any big bad American Fed. They were simply polite Canadian mounties. They rode horses to music and religiously preached the values of good Canadian beer to people. They carried guns, but to their dismay, never got to use them. Even the tiny, belching lady could kick their asses if she wanted to.
"Uhm yes sir, if you'll please follow us. We'll show you what it so important. We think you especially, Mr Mulder, will find it to be very intriguing."
Mulder scowled at being called mister, rather than agent, but decided he'd let it slip by; this time. He and the staggering Scully followed the brightly dressed Mounties through the crowded air port. It was (naturally) raining outside and Mulder realized he'd left his umbrella in Scully's bathroom. Making a mental note to purchase a new one, he lifted his standard issue FBI black trench coat over his and Scully's heads. The Mounties, wearing their hats, seemed oblivious to the rain. They were lead to a couple of cop cars, and ordered inside.
"Sorry about the transportation" said one Mountie as Mulder and Scully crammed inside a car behind the plexiglass barrier that normally separated the good guys from the bad guys. As much as Mulder found this entire experience extremely degrading to his status, he liked getting cozy with Scully. Even if she did have barf breath.
The ride was long and harrowing. Okay, so maybe not harrowing, but it sure wasn't pleasant. Scully fell asleep and promptly began drooling on Mulder's standard issue FBI black trench coat. Mulder, feeling the need for revenge, hocked a loogie onto Scully's standard issue FBI navy trench coat. The drizzle outside had turned into a full-blown downpour. The traffic was terrible and to top it off, it would seem Scully had developed a rather raunchy gas problem. Seeking relief from the smell, Mulder cracked a window, but was instantly bombarded with the rain. Sighing, Mulder pulled his standard issue FBI Super-Duper Noseplugs from his pocket and inserted them.
They eventually reached their unknown destination and the mounties came around to open the door for the agents. As they swung the door open, their faces scrunched up. Taking a look, they saw the man with some things hanging from his nose and the lady, who was still asleep. Mulder now wished he had brought along his standard issue FBI gas mask. But he realized, he had lost that a long time ago. He poked Scully in the ribs and yanked her out of the car.
Like any good FBI agent, the two immediately took mental notes of their surroundings. A tree over there, a small building surrounded with a chainlink fence, a box full of non-fat tofutti rice dreamsicles (which Mulder pocketed for later consumption) and calmly sitting in an La-Z-Boy recliner was what Mulder had only dreamed of.
Mulder let out a gasp and Scully, as discretely as possible let one rip. Mulder turned his attention to his partner, "Jeeeeeeeeesus Scully, tape your ass shut or somethin' would ya!?" Scully ignored his hurtful comment and silently wished she had her standard issue FBI Ford Taurus.