Author's Notes: Written for the Transportation challenge at ds_flashfiction.

Extenuating Circumstances (or, If You Can't Be with the One You Love...)

"...and then land the plane at Calgary International Airport, whereupon the local constabulary will be able to take the miscreants into custody," Fraser concluded triumphantly. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for the reaction from the other two individuals currently crammed into the airplane washroom with him.

Inspector Thatcher blinked at him a few times. "That's your plan, Constable?"

Fraser wilted a little. "Well, yes, sir." He rubbed his eyebrow. "That is, I mean, I suppose that you may have a more feasible plan of action in mind."

"No, no," Thatcher said quickly. "I'm sure your plan will be sufficient. Do you think you can be of assistance, Mr. McGinn?" she asked the flight attendant squeezed next to her. It really was a stroke of luck that they had managed to free him from his bonds and slip him into the washroom without attracting the attention of the hijackers.

Buddy McGinn gulped and ran a hand through his bright red hair. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, I should be able to cut Marie Adams free--uh, she's the blonde attendant tied up in the kitchen area--so, I can cut her free, and then we can do that distracting thing you mentioned, and then you guys can do your thing...uh, you don't think that this plan is kinda...dangerous?"

"Don't worry, Mr. McGinn. I assure you that Ms. Adams' and your role in this endeavor will be merely to provide the distraction. It will be the Inspector and I who will face the brunt of the resistance."

"Nothing two well-trained Mounties can't handle," Thatcher interjected. "Although admittedly it would probably go more smoothly with a little more manpower on our side--just where is that partner of yours tonight, Fraser?"

"Ah. Well. Ray, it seems, had a more...pressing engagement tonight."

With his ex-wife, he didn't add.

Who, despite the display of optimism Ray may have given this afternoon, has, to my observation, shown no intention to reconcile with him, he didn't add either.

Who doesn't deserve him, he *definitely* didn't add.

"I'll sure he'll be sorry to miss the excitement," Fraser did say.

Thatcher rolled her eyes. "I'm sure," she said. "Well, I believe that the Mounties can handle a crisis without the sarcastic assistance of the Chicago PD just this once." She looked at Buddy McGinn. "Go ahead and free the other attendant, and let her in on the plan. We'll wait here for you to come back before making our move."

After Buddy slipped out the door, Fraser began organizing the supplies he'd procured for himself and for the Inspector. Safety procedure card, oxygen mask, two chicken and rice dinners, four glass paperweights from the AirMall....He suddenly noticed that Inspector Thatcher was looking at him. "Sir?" he inquired.

Thatcher started. "Oh! Nothing, Constable. Please continue your preparations."

Fraser nodded and went back to sorting...until he felt Thatcher's eyes on him again. "Inspector?" he asked, turning around. "Is there something--" He broke off as he noticed that her attention was not on his eyes, but rather on his lips. Oh.

Thatcher blinked and brought her eyes back up to his. "I was just thinking, Fraser, about the situation we have found ourselves in tonight."

Fraser met her gaze. "Ah. You mean, ensconced in a washroom of a commercial jet carrying the RCMP Commissioner and his staff--a jet which has also been hijacked by Qubecois Separatists? I suppose it is something of a unique predicament."

Thatcher smiled slightly. Really, Fraser mused, she was quite an attractive woman, even if her personality could be at times a bit...bracing. "Perhaps not so unique. In fact, it reminds me a little of another situation where you and I faced danger together in a moving vehicle...."

Fraser turned fully to face her. "By which you mean the incident in which we were on a train filled with explosives and the unconscious members of the RCMP Musical Ride, as we were moving to confront the terrorists who had commandeered it?"

"Yes, that would be the one." Thatcher edged ever so slightly towards him. "And, actually, this is also reminiscent of another time we worked together...on Lake Superior..."

Fraser inched forward himself. He dropped his voice a little. "On the replica of the HMS Bounty, I believe. With a crew composed of Mountie recruits. We were readying ourselves to engage a ship of criminals who were dumping toxic waste..."

"Yes." Thatcher was almost nose-to-nose with him now. Her voice was just above a whisper. "It would seem, Fraser, that you and I are fated to find ourselves preparing to face danger in the oddest of places..."

Fraser thought about Ray, with whom he also seemed to find himself facing danger in bizarre locations. Then he looked at the Inspector's lips, and thought about Ray on his date with Stella, and then he moved the last few inches to close the gap and press his mouth to Thatcher's. The contact was quite pleasing.

He held onto his hat this time, though. Stetsons were truly a inconvenience to replace.

Their contact was interrupted exactly 37 seconds later when the opening washroom door nailed Fraser's bicep. "Oops, sorry," whispered Buddy McGinn.

Fraser instantly backed up the 8 inches the tiny lavatory allowed him, dropping his hands to his side. Sixteen inches away, Thatcher was smoothing the front of her tunic, looking a little flushed. "We were just...," they said in tandem.

Buddy held his hands up defensively. "Hey, whatever you gotta do to psyche yourselves up, I guess. Just came to tell you that Marie and I are ready to roll with the distracting, whenever you guys are."

Thatcher straightened her hat. "Right, then. I think Constable Fraser and I have sufficiently...prepared. Mr. McGinn, if you will please start that distraction, the Constable and I will be along shortly." McGinn nodded and slipped back out the door. Thatcher turned back to Fraser. "Time to mark?"

Fraser checked his watch while subtly adjusting his tunic flaps. "Ah...45 seconds."

"Very well." She gathered up her bag containing the 14 minibottles of vodka, the cigarette lighter, and the drinking straws, and got into position by the door. Then she pause and glanced up at Fraser.

"I don't think I have to tell you, Fraser, that what just transpired between the two of us..." She trailed off.

Fraser helpfully continued her thought. "...can never repeat itself, save under the exact same circumstances?"

Thatcher nodded. "Exactly."

"Understood." He looked at his watch. "Three, two, one..."

As they crashed through the cockpit door, Fraser wondered idly how Ray's evening was going.