Halrloprillalar hal@prillalar.com http://prillalar.com/ July 4, 1999 RATING: PG13. FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Files. No spoilers. SUMMARY: Skinner/Pendrell. Voyageurs, voyeurs, and vacations. DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere. Email forwarding allowed. DISCLAIMER: CC, 1013, Fox, not me. BY THE DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT by Halrloprillalar - hal@prillalar.com ++Independence Day++ The sky was grey when Skinner woke, a little cold, a little stiff, and beatifically happy. He'd been planning this since October and finally, here they were. Three days into the trip, he was feeling energised and relaxed. Pendrell wasn't in the sleeping bag, but his side was still warm so he wasn't long up. He hadn't started the fire, though, the slacker. Shrugging into his jacket, Skinner stirred the banked coals into life and added kindling until he had a good blaze on. He put on the water for coffee and made a quick trip into the brush. When he returned, Pendrell was there too, leaning against the canoe and typing on his laptop. Skinner poured the water into the filter and got out the porridge pot. Some nice, thick oatmeal would hit the... He looked at Pendrell again. "What the hell are you doing with that?" Pendrell looked up. "Morning, Skipper. Checking my email." "We're in the middle of nowhere. What are you doing with a laptop?" Pendrell made big eyes. "I thought you knew I had it along. We're not barbarians, after all." "OK, I'm not that surprised you brought it. But connecting to the fucking Internet? How?" "I have this cellular modem and I rigged up this thing to boost the range." Pendrell pointed to a cable that snaked through the grass to a black box about five feet away. "It's...uh...not a good idea to spend too much time right next to it when it's turned on." "You're risking radiation poisoning to check your email?" The oatmeal boiled over and Skinner stirred it hastily. "Your point being?" "Do you think I could check mine too?" Pendrell laughed and Skinner smiled. After breakfast, they sat shoulder to shoulder and Pendrell got Skinner connected to his email. "You got a message from my mother?" Pendrell poked Skinner in the ribs. "She didn't write to me." "Quit looking -- email is private." "Well, what does she say?" Flicking Pendrell a wicked glance, Skinner said nothing for a few moments. "Hmm...well, can't read you that...or that...she says Happy Fourth of July." "So I'm never to know if you two are exchanging steamy messages or potato salad recipes?" "Just cute stories about the things you do, Danny." "I'd sock you but you're holding my computer." Skinner closed the window. "I'm done. Take it back and bring it on, Professor. I'm ready for you." "The only good thing about all this fresh air is how jovial it makes you." Pendrell kissed Skinner's cheek. "It's killing me." "I think you're doing really well." Skinner slung his arm around Pendrell's shoulders and squeezed his upper arm. "You're getting muscles." "Exactly. I'm supposed to be pale and pasty and thin, not rosy-cheeked and buff. It's bad for my image." "Don't worry, Daniel. When we get back, you can sit indoors in front of your computer all you want." Skinner rolled his neck, stretching it. "Ready to go? We've got a few more miles of river, than a portage." "I've still got to sit outdoors in front of my computer. I have to check on Lucy." "You're going to call your neighbour?" "No, just load up the LucyCam." Pendrell fired up his browser and typed in a URL. "See?" Skinner peered over Pendrell's shoulder. The window showed a picture of a corner in the little white house. A large water bowl sat on the floor. No Lucy. "It updates every thirty seconds." Pendrell looked proud. "Brilliant, Professor. Now you know she's got water. Your neighbour said she'd be there every day to feed her. Can we pack up?" "Don't you want to see her? I'll call her." Pendrell clicked on one of the links. A tinny voice emanated from the computer. "Here, Goosy-Lucy, here, LucyLucyLucy, here Lucy." It was Pendrell. "It sounds terrible on these speakers, but at home it sounds just like me." They waited and after a minute, Lucy appeared in the refreshed picture. She sat and washed herself. He wouldn't admit it to Pendrell, but Skinner was glad to see her and know that she was all right. "Can you do anything else with that?" "We can feed her some snacks." "I thought you didn't like her eating in between meals." "I thought she might need extra attention while we're gone. Do you want to feed her? Click there." Skinner struggled with the touch pad and finally clicked on the "Feed Me!" button. When the picture updated, several cat snack pellets lay on the floor and Lucy was chowing down. "This is really impressive, Daniel." He looked at the page more closely. There was a button marked "Walter." He clicked it. His voice floated scratchily through the speakers. "Hello there, sweetie. Are you my pretty girl? Yes, you're my pretty girl now. Come here and sit with daddy." Oh God. Shading his eyes with one hand, Skinner looked at the ground and tried to regain his composure. He said nothing. Pendrell said nothing. The picture refreshed and Lucy stared right at the camera, ears perked and tail up. "I think she misses you," Pendrell said. Skinner rejected the first five things to say that came to mind. "Leaving aside the fact that you recorded me when I didn't even know you were *there* let alone wired, I want you to know that if even *one* other person at the FBI sees this, we will come back here and I will kill you and I will bury the body where it will never be found." "Death I would accept, but not another camping trip. Couldn't you just bury me in the basement?" Pendrell ran his palm over the top of Skinner's head and down to the back of his neck. "Relax, the site is password protected." Massaging the muscles there, he touched Skinner's cheek with his other hand. "You're too cute to share." Closing the browser, he shut down the computer and put it aside. "I think I'll be ready to forgive you about half-way through the portage." Skinner leaned in and tasted Pendrell behind his ear. "Unless you'd like to make it up to me now." Pendrell moved closer for a moment, then pulled back. "I'm too stiff and you're too dirty." "We're camping. And this from the man who calls me Howard Hughes when he thinks I can't hear him. So we'll swim in the river first." "My God, Walter, water that cold is worse for your progenitive powers than my modem booster." Skinner tried another nuzzle. "No fireworks for Independence Day?" "You can't see fireworks during the day. I didn't expect you to get so randy before all the stroke...stroke...stroke in the canoe." Pendrell slid one arm around Skinner's waist, and stretched out against his side. "Try again after dark. You might get lucky." I'm already lucky, Skinner thought, but he didn't say it aloud. Instead he stole a kiss while he had the chance, then got up and packed. Loading the canoe, they pushed it out into the river and began to paddle. The sun came out. F I N I S Halrloprillalar hal@prillalar.com http://prillalar.com/