TITLE: BLUE BOYS, 5/5
AUTHOR: kateswan
EMAIL: kateswan@triton.net
RATING: PG-13, minor language
DISCLAIMER: Carter, Gilligan, Shiban, Spotnitz ... did you love them as
much as we do? So long, and thanks for all the characters.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: I don’t believe in delayed gratification. I want it, I
want it now ... Dedicated to all the Gunfen, you know who you are; and
to the programming poohbahs at Fox Broadcasting, this is for you and the
horses you rode in on. My take on what happens after the TO BE CONTINUED
whopper flashed across the screen following the final minutes of The
Lone Gunmen: All About Yves.
“Yves looked at the black satin negligee, at Frohike’s face, then back at
the satin.
“You are out of your tiny little mind,” she said calmly. “If I didn’t
know better, I’d think you set the whole thing up, Fletcher, Smarm, the
rescue ... just so you could suggest this ... this ... “
“Way to save your keister?” Frohike shrugged. “If you’ve got a better
idea, let’s hear it.”
“I *like* this one,” Mulder said. He’d stopped writing on Fletcher’s
leg, which now looked, from a distance, as if it belonged to a tattooed
South Sea Islander.
“I wouldn’t do it,” Doggett said helpfully. “We could shoot both of them
in the head.”
Everyone in the room swivelled in unison, staring.
“Just kidding,” he said, in the same tone of voice.
“I don’t think the A-Team ever stooped this low,” Jimmy complained.
“Jimmy.” Yves grimaced. “Do you mind taking everyone downstairs for a
bit? I would really appreciate it.”
“We can’t stay?” Mulder tossed his pen across the room, nearly hitting
Skinner. “All the risk, none of the reward. My life has been a series of
disappointments.”
“Out.” Jimmy stood by the door and gestured. “You’re the luckiest man I
know, agent Mulder. Now move your ass out of here.”
“Lucky? Lucky?” Mulder followed Langly and Byers out of the bedroom,
bitching his way down the stairs.
Skinner paused in the doorway, looked at Fletcher, then at the bit of
black satin Yves had grabbed from Frohike’s hand. “I’d do it while he
was still unconscious,” he said, grinning only slightly. “The fact he
can’t remember will really get his goat.”
“Frohike.” Jimmy’s hand was on the knob, ready to shut the door behind
him. “You be nice to her. If she isn’t completely okay when she comes
out of here, I’m going to feed you bits of your favorite digital
camera,” he said with perfect calm. “Comprender?”
“Si, Jimmy. She’ll be fine.”
It was the easiest photo shoot of his life. He took a limited number of
photos, none of them showed Yves’ full face. When Frohike finally talked
her into straddling Fletcher, with the disc between her teeth, bending
over so her hair fell to one side like a swath of black satin, her mouth
nearly touching Fletcher’s with the disc resting on his lower lip ...
“That’s the one.” Frohike looked at the image preview and laughed out
loud. “He has decent taste in lingerie.”
“The top’s a bit big,” Yves had managed to keep the straps more or less
on her shoulders. “If you’re looking at my legs ...”
“I’ve seen your legs. Our work here is done, you can get dressed.”
“Smarm’s awake,” Yves said as she climbed off the bed. “He’s been listening.”
“Oh well,” Frohike shrugged. “With any luck, this will work out for us.”
“With any luck.” She paused in the bathroom door. “Remind me, when I’m
fully dressed, to kiss you again.”
“Ooohh. Don’t make promises, sugar.” Frohike winked at her, feeling
absurdly euphoric at the thought they could return home without fear any
the night’s activities might return to haunt them.
“Eva. My name is Eva.” She disappeared into the bathroom.
They watched NASCAR races in the bedroom until Fletcher woke up. Langly
sat in one corner, working on his laptop, glancing infrequently at the
television. He’d made two duplicates of the disc, although Frohike
hadn’t let anyone else know there was more than one. Fletcher’s original
was safe in Mulder’s pocket.
Smarm had recovered enough to be verbally threatening, so they’d let
Jimmy slap duct tape on his mouth.
Yves and Jimmy sat side by side now, with their backs against the base
of the bed, ostensibly watching television. Frohike suspected they were
enjoying a moment of simple, uncomplicated physical proximity.
“Oh shit.” Fletcher groaned and yanked feebly on the cuffs. “Where am I?”
“We’re on.” Skinner nodded to Doggett. Frohike had wanted to make the
pitch, but he’d been overruled by the majority, who agreed that Skinner
and Doggett had higher scores on the scary dude scale.
“Mr. Fletcher.” Doggett’s eyes narrowed to cold slits. He sat down on
one side of Fletcher, holding his gun in one hand, caressing the barrel
with the other. “We need to talk.”
“Mr. Fletcher.” Skinner landed with a large bounce on Fletcher’s other
side. He held a glossy print and a cigarette lighter, which he flicked
on a few inches from Fletcher’s nose.
“Oww!!” Fletcher looked wildly between them. “What the hell is going on?
You can’t ...”
“Oh. I think we can.” Skinner held the print in front of Fletcher’s
eyes. “We know you know who we are. But now *we* know who you are. Your
wife, Joanne. Your two children. Your special job. We’re not the bad
guys, here.”
“We’ll drive you back to your hotel,” Doggett said, resting his gun
against Fletcher’s kneecap. “We’ll give you your disc back.”
“This is so lame. What do you want?” Fletcher looked beyond his
tormenters toward Frohike, and Yves standing behind him. “What do *you* want?”
“We’ve got a disposal dilemma,” Skinner said cheerfully. “Can you think
of a way to help out?”
“That went well.” Frohike leaned against the wall near the front door,
and felt exhaustion crawl up his legs.
“I think so.” Skinner sighed. “You owe me a big one, Frohike. Doggett
and I will take them to Fletcher’s hotel. You want to make sure we leave
in one piece?”
“Yeah. I’m sending Jimmy, Yves, Langly and Byers back to the office.
Yves is going to stay there tonight, and they’re going to sweep the
place -- just in case. Mulder and I will tail you to the hotel. Then you
two can tail us back to pick up his car near Fenix.” Frohike felt a yawn
erupt. “Damn. I’m tired.”
“And you had a shower. I’ve still got bits of plastic sticking to my hair.”
“Mr. Skinner.” Yves came down the stairs, followed closely by Jimmy.
“Thank you. If there’s ever anything I can do for you ...”
“You’re welcome, Eva. I hope it works out. For all our sakes,” Skinner
said, smiling at her. “There is something you can do for me.”
“Yes?” Yves raised an eyebrow.
“Promise you’ll never let Jimmy impersonate me again.”
She smiled, glowing with relief and amusement. “I promise.”
“Get in the car,” Frohike said. “They’ll be bringing Fletcher and Smarm out.”
“Frohike.” Yves bent over and kissed him full on the mouth. “Thank you.”
No tongue, Frohike thought, but that little nip on the lower lip had
been interesting. He grinned at the outrage on Jimmy’s face. “It was a
very platonic gesture, Jimmy.”
“Yeah. Right. Almost sisterly,” Skinner said with a bark of laughter.
“Let’s get out of here. I just know there are more important things
going on in the real world.”
“More important than a blackmail scam? You mean like life, death and birth?”
“I do.” Skinner caught his quick look up the stairway as Mulder
appeared, carrying Smarm. “I’m worried about her.”
“Scully? Me too.” Frohike heard the uncharacteristic emotion in
Skinner’s voice. “We’re here if she needs us. If you need us. Anytime.
Any place. Anything.”
Skinner grabbed his shoulder for a moment, then went through the front
door after Yves and Jimmy.
“Coming through.” Mulder breezed past, knocking Smarm’s head against the
door jamb. “Ooops.”
Langly and Byers came next, escorting Morris Fletcher down the stairs.
He was walking, but wobbly, and his hands were still cuffed.
“I never want to see your face, or hear your name again, Melvin,”
Fletcher snarled as he tripped down the last stair. “That goes for the
rest of the losers you hang out with.”
“Okay by me.” Frohike locked the front door and pulled it shut as they
left. “No hurt feelings here, Morris.”
“And I’m not sending any more stories your way. Ever.” Fletcher was
still snarling as they put him into the car. “And I’m canceling my
subscriptions.”
“Subscriptions?” It might be interesting to find where they were being
sent to, Frohike thought.
“All eight of them.” Fletcher’s head disappeared. “I hate all of you.”
Frohike got into Skinner’s car. Mulder was behind the driver’s wheel
again. “Go to the office first,” he said.
They rolled down the driveway slowly. Frohike could see the headlights
of Doggett’s car shine in the side mirror, and felt oddly comforted. If
he judged himself by the quality of people who liked him, and the
quality of the people who hated him, he was a monumental success.
“I’m good,” he said to Mulder. “I mean -- really good.”
“I know.” Mulder laughed. “I want to grow up to be just like you. Can I
see the photos now?”
“No!” Jimmy and Yves answered from the back seat.
“Sorry, man.” Frohike looked over his shoulder. Jimmy was sitting on the
hump, shielding Yves from the proximity of Smarm. He winked at Yves,
then turned his eyes forward again. “So, Mulder, have you found a job
yet ...?”
“Is that an offer?” Mulder turned on the radio and began switching
between stations. He stopped when he found an old CCR song. “I love
this. Let the midnight special ...” he crooned at the top of his lungs.
“Make him stop,” Jimmy begged, from the back seat. “It’s really been a
long night.”
Mulder turned the sound up a notch. “Shine your ever-loving light on me ...”
Frohike reached over and turned the radio down. “So Mulder, have you had
time to miss the X-Files? Would you like to see something really scary ...”
“NO!”
Frohike was sure the vote would have been unanimous, if Smarm’s mouth
had been untaped. He reached for the radio and cruised for a moment. He
stopped when he heard a familiar chorus, not because he particularly
liked the song, but because he had a sudden notion they needed to hear
the end.
“Angels never know it's time, To close the book and gracefully decline,
The song has found a tale ...”
They were right back at Genesis. Some kind of message there, Frohike
thought as they drove into the night.