feedback: msnsc21[at]yahoo.com
11/14/02
Feedback: welcomed and adored!
Distribution: Kimpa and Enigmatic Dr., always; Ephemeral,
Gossamer, or if you've archived me before, yes; if you
haven't, please just let me know and leave headers, email
addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: Unusual Suspects and Three of a Kind, with a
hint of Two Fathers/One Son
Rating: PG-13 for cussing and guy talk
Classification: Vignette
Keywords: Lone Gunmen
Summary: At home with the Lone Gunmen
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. They mostly
belong to the actors who portrayed them, but Chris Carter
created them, and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I
mean no infringement, and I'm not making any profit from
them.
Author's notes at the end.
Boys' Night In
by ML
"Byers. Byers. Byers!"
John Byers lifted his chin from his hand and his mind from
his daydreams. He looked around at his reality, so different
from the vision in his mind's eye.
Bits and pieces of electronic equipment littered most of the
surfaces in their living space, interspersed with dirty glasses
and dishes. At a nearby table, Langly sat hunched in front of
one of the functioning monitors. His fingers paused and clicked,
paused and clicked, hovering over the keyboard. Occasionally he
muttered threats at the screen.
Frohike stood at Byers' elbow, waiting for him to come out of
his trance. Byers had been scanning one of his newsgroups when
he'd seen the name Suzanne, and that's all it took to send him
off.
He turned to answer Frohike who stood with hands fisted at his
waist. His stance mimicked a common Mulder attitude, though
without Mulder's panache. It was funny, Byers mused, how the
three of them all seemed to personify some aspect of their friend
and ally. Frohike shared Mulder's biting wit. Langly had his
innate and endearing geekiness, though Byers would never say that
to either of them.
And what of Byers himself? Maybe he shared Mulder's desire to
know, and his deeper, more hidden desire: to live a life where
there was no such thing as conspiracy or government cover ups.
To be able to openly express love, and to live without the fear
that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye. Byers
suspected Mulder was a closet romantic. He couldn't do what he
did without an innate hopefulness. And that hopefulness
presupposed a yearning for the things he'd been denied. Just
as he, Byers, had been denied them.
"Man, you gotta get over her," Frohike shook his head. "How
long has it been since you've seen her?"
"Ten years, two months, seventeen days," Langly chimed in. "But
who's counting?"
Frohike and Byers ignored Langly. Frohike continued, "I know
you set her up as some sort of ideal of womanhood, but she's a
crutch, man. You need to move on."
"What about you two?" Byers asked. "I don't see you out there,
either."
"Byers, you know my heart belongs to Scully," Frohike placed
his right hand over his heart and raised his eyes heavenward.
"Talk about a crutch," Langly muttered. "When are *you* gonna
wake up and smell the coffee? Scully's never gonna have eyes
for anyone but Mulder."
"I can dream, can't I?" Frohike said. "And if he doesn't wake
up and smell the coffee himself soon, I may just have to step
in."
Langly just rolled his eyes and muttered something under his
breath that sounded suspiciously like "delusional troll."
Frohike went on the offense. "What about you, Langly? When's
the last time you had a date? Have you *ever* had a date?"
Without even looking up from the monitor, Langly said, "It's
a choice. I choose not to buy into the whole military-
industrial-entertainment romance myth."
Frohike rolled his eyes at Langly and looked at Byers. Byers
shrugged. This was a familiar argument and it had no end.
Langly yawned hugely, showing his back fillings. "What time's
it? I'm hungry."
"Now there's a surprise," said Frohike. He squinted at his
watch. "Three a.m."
"Damn, I wish there was a twenty-four hour pizza delivery
place."
"Maybe you should look into it," said Frohike. "Could be a
real money-maker."
"Yeah, then I can get rich and ditch you guys for good,"
Langly replied.
"Promises, promises," said Frohike, and shuffled off to look
in the refrigerator. They usually took turns shopping and
cooking, but they'd been busy the past couple of days and the
fridge was almost empty. Frohike opened the freezer and tiptoed
up to look inside.
"Frohike?" Langly called. "Anything there?"
"Couple of Tombstones in the freezer."
"Are they at least pepperoni?"
"All veggie," Frohike said, pulling a pizza box out and brushing
off the permafrost. "Which explains why they haven't been eaten
already."
"Jeez," said Langly. "Whose turn was it to go shopping,
anyway?"
"I believe it was yours," Byers said.
"Do I have to do everything around here? I've been a little
busy with your project, Byers. Def Con `99. How original."
"I don't pick the names," Byers said.
"Duh, Byers," said Langly. "But why do I have to do all the
dirty work? Hacking into this crap is boring as hell, and it
still takes forever to do it."
Byers said simply, "Because your kung fu is the best."
That not only shut Langly up, but made him smile. Well, it
was more like a smirk, but Byers could tell he was pleased.
All Langly said in reply was, "If we get better rooms than the
last time, I guess it'll be worth it."
Frohike said, "C'mon, Byers, let's make a food run and leave
Langly to it."
Langly called after them, "Don't forget the pork rinds this
time!"
x-x-x-x
On the way home from the all-night market, Frohike took a
little detour. Byers suspected the destination, but didn't
ask where or why.
The street was quiet as the old VW van chugged slowly along.
There was no place to park. They crawled slowly along and came
to a standstill opposite a familiar building. Frohike shut off
the engine.
They sat in silence. Byers watched Frohike watch the dark
windows. He still said nothing.
Finally Byers spoke. "This is where you've been going late
at night."
Frohike shrugged. "Every now and then. I just like to know
she's okay."
"Have you been doing it all along?"
"I started after she was, um, brought back. Just once in a
while. Maybe a little more lately. Especially since Mulder
... when he isn't ... isn't around."
"Does Mulder know?"
"It's none of his business," Frohike said. "I'm not doing it
for him. In fact, when he wanted cameras put in her place, I
wouldn't do it."
"When did he ask you to do that?"
"After that guy impersonated him. He wanted only one. He
thought putting it in the fireplace and aiming it at the couch
would be a good idea."
"But you refused?"
"No, he changed his mind," Frohike said. "He was just upset.
I would have refused anyway. I do have limits, after all. And
I have a lot of respect for Agent Scully."
"I thought Mulder did, too."
Frohike sighed. "I've always thought so. I don't know where
his head is at these days. He's not acting like himself."
"That, as Langly would say, is a fucking understatement," Byers
said.
They'd all been witness to Mulder's rudeness to Scully not long
ago. They were used to it for themselves, but had never seen
it directed toward Dana Scully.
"Do you think he really cares for her?" Byers asked.
"Who?" Frohike asked. "Diana Fowley or Scully?"
Byers just looked at him.
"Of course he does. I've never seen him look at anyone the way
he looks at Scully. You remember what he was like when she was
missing, and when she was sick."
"He seems to have forgotten about all that," Byers said.
"Well, I'll make sure he doesn't forget. I'll kick his ass,"
Frohike growled. "Don't think I wouldn't, friend or no. No
one hurts Dana Scully."
"Even though bringing Mulder to his senses lessens your chances
with Scully?"
"Yeah, it makes as much sense as you pining for Suzanne Modesky
all these years, doesn't it?" Frohike shook his head in mock
disapproval.
Byers looked at his friend's profile in the street lights.
"We're a pair, aren't we? Maybe Langly is right. Maybe it's
better not to buy into the whole myth of happily ever after."
"You don't believe that and you know it," said Frohike. "And
neither does Langly. He just doesn't wear his heart on his
sleeve like we do. I happen to know he was really broken up
when Pamela Anderson married Tommy Lee."
"Well, I guess he has at least as much chance at success as we
do," Byers sighed.
"We'd better head back. Langly will be wondering where his
pork rinds are." Frohike started the engine and they chugged
down the street. At a stoplight, he said casually, "Don't
tell Langly about this, okay? He has a big mouth, sometimes."
"Your secret's safe with me," Byers said. He tried to smile,
though his heart was heavy.
Frohike patted his friend on the arm. "Don't give up, Byers.
If we never find Suzanne, no doubt there will be another damsel
in distress. Bound to be, in our line of work."
"Sure, Frohike. Just like there's another Dana Scully out
there, waiting for you."
Frohike gaped at Byers' uncharacteristic bitterness. "Point
taken, my friend. We'll go to Las Vegas, we'll look for Suzanne,
and maybe pick up a little info as a bonus. You never know."
"You never know," Byers said, closing his eyes and imagining
the possibilities.
End.
=====
Author's notes: This is an answer to Philiater's Halloween
challenge. The elements are: crutches, a tombstone, and a
fireplace. As you can see, it's not a Halloween story.
Though mention of Diana Fowley might make it too scary for
some! <g>