Cracked (1/6) & Epilogue...
Author: Sue
Rating: PG-13
Category: Gunfic/Langly/Other
Spoilers: Three of A Kind. Teensie
brush with 'Like Water For Octane.'
Summary: So... What did 'Blondie' get up
to between the time he breezed off with
Jimmy and Timmy, to catch the floor show
that went along with 'the all you can eat
lobster,' before Scully arrived?
Disclaimer: All X-Files characters and
references are property of C. Carter,
Morgan & Wong, 10-13 Productions and FOX.


Spring 1999

Why I ever agreed to skip off with Jimmy
Belmont and the insipid Timmy Landau beats me.
Talk about lame. Although, Jimmy, a gaming
bud from time to time's, got an excuse. Says
his father accidentally dropped him on his
head at the tender-headed age of eighteen
months. So he says. It makes for a half-way
decent running gag though whenever Jimmy
strands himself on a page in the course of
meaningless conversation anyway.

Oh, well, this seemed like a good idea at the
time; anything to get away from suicidal Byers
and his pining of the love-torn. Man, you'd
think Mata Hari is God's gift to men or
something. Like she's some guileless,
unwitting pawn in all this, which I so don't
buy, to hear him talk. I have heard him talk;
way too much for my taste, like an old broken
forty-five. Which is why I decided to split;
for that reason, and my seeing how much Frohike
wanted to set the FCC drop-out straight, by his

All Modeski's ever turned out to be is one
colossal pain in the ass. For my money, in
Byers'. Trouble is, the narc's too blinded by
sappy sentiments to see her for what she is; an
easy on the eyes manipulator who played him
like a fiddle. I've told him this before, and
I'll say it again. He's too soft on the

And I am, well, was starving, afterall, so I
guess that's why I'm here stuffing my face full
of lobster, along with the Bobsey Boobs.
Serves me right for thinking with my stomach,
(just like my Wookiee alter ego Chewbacca) or
as Frohike, sans any comic relief, refers to my
belly as, 'the bottomless pit.'

I'm stuffed with enough crustacea, suborder,
Reptantia, right now to grow my own shell --
'delish.' And speaking of which...the floor
show isn't bad either.

Landau's two-fold enticement to get me to
join them was right on the money. Mercy...
I've never seen this many beautiful women
struttin' their fine stuff in one place, all
at the same time. Every one of these Vegas
babes are beyond awesome. They parade around
so arrantly, droolin' comes as easily as
breathing; veritable second nature. Just
because I haven't technically, 'dipped my pen
in the inkwell,' in the strictest extra
conjugal sense doesn't mean I avoid gettin'
eyefuls of 'em like this.

On-line babes are okay. They're good for a
quick release, but seeing flesh and blood
beauties like these is, and I quote...'a
whole nother country.' We've got a serious
'boobage' bonanza going on here 'in the

Man, I can't wait to see Leese again. Maybe
if I whine (already, it's fair to say that
when I resort to my trusty secret weapon,
she's putty in my hands. Mighty fine putty)
real hard, I could get her to change her mind
so she'll leave Miami sooner than she said
she would, and sign on for the gig Ryan's old
lady offered her at the bar. Quit her
singing for Carnival's cruises, and my having
to go for too long not seeing her. Nip my
aching for her, and Scully's thinking I'm not
good enough for her Mexican-Irish cousin in
the bud. To say I have a serious thing for
the Fibbie's exceptional relative is putting
it mildly.

I'll be the first to admit I've sorta got it
bad. I mean I'm thinking about the girl
practically every waking moment...

Could be I'm really in love; emphasis on the
in love gradient of the meter, not lust.
But it wouldn't be my first time being
bitten. I had a girlfriend before; in high
school. What? Don't believe me? She was
my best friend. first love. Back in Erie, PA, ages
ago; several long time warps way back when.

Scully's bi-ethnic cousin could really be
the one this time. Even for a guy like me.
What kind of guy is that, you ask? Okay,
yeah...a thirty year old virgin who may get a
break for once in his nonextant sex life.

I believe tentative steps in coming to
grips with the condition were taken. She
and I had one, solid blast on that toasty
one-week Caribbean trek in February; an
unbelievable vacation, spent in the
pleasurable company of a goddess.

Bet we had tons more fun than Scully and
Mulder, who kept going over the luxury liner
like they were on a clue hunt. More than I
thought we would, considering it was Scully's
idea to take a cruise so she could spend some
getting reacquainted time with her cousin.
She sure didn't leap for joy when Leese had the
wild idea about my horning in. Scully's
dissatisfaction couldn't have been more obvious.
(Oh, too bad...) It was over the top of being
pissed, big-time. Mulder was more or less an
afterthought to round out the paired situation.


I treated the chick like the lady she is,
(I know how, despite what I know Frohike
thinks, yeah, ol' ramrod up his straightlaced
ass Byers too, man. They think they've got
what I'm about all figured out. I save my
more presentable manners for those deserving
few) and Leese treated me like we're made for
each other. She's perfect... I had hickeys
for days. She was a little shy at the
beginning, hell, so was I, the way I mostly
always am. As old as I am, women still do the
serious number on my head. With Leese, it was
a different story. I hadn't felt that mellow
in years, since...

Okay, that was a very long time ago, and I'm
so over it. Some days it's easier to think
so than it is others.

The better I got to know Lee, the less shy
I got, the way I normally am with members of
the female race regardless of whether they're
so-so looking, or go-for-the-jugular gorgeous
like Lislita.

If what we discovered we feel for each other
isn't love, it's close enough, man. I'll sure
as hell take it.

"Hey, Langly..."

My eyes drift lazily over to Jimmy's facial
collection of pinched nerves. "Yeah. What?"

"How 'bout another round?"

"Sure. Why not," I readily agree. "Hell.
Long as you're buying." I must look as
mellow as mellow can be, reflecting on the
perfection I held in my arms what feels like
yesterday instead of several months ago.

"I said it was my treat," Landau snaps back,
like somebody just pricked his ass with a
safety pin.

"Fine. Whatever. Do I look like I'm gonna
split hairs?" I ease away from the round
table and look around as though someone were
calling my name. A someone with a much
sweeter voice.

Landau snickers, acting as though I'd already
caught the dig. "Bet you don't have to work
too hard at it. Not with that mop." I
absorb his sneer and watch him down the rest
of his brewski.

Glowering, I toy with the idea of cupping
mirror handfuls of lobster and showering him
with the plentiful shellfish. Have I
mentioned how much I cannot stand this guy?
No? Okay, so now you know. He sucks without
a straw.

"Ooooh," I toss casually, "that was supposed
to be..." I challenge him with more visual
assault. "Your bid for a time slot on Comedy
Central?" What I wouldn't give for a cattle
prod right now.

He fakes humility, like I'm too dense to know
he's such a sham. "Shorts knotted where the
sun don't shine, Mister Blond? James Blond."
He cracks himself up like he does it on a
regular basis. "Where's your sense of

"I'm eating with you, right?" I return the
bogus camaraderie quickly before he gets an
inkling of how Uriah Heep I think he is.
"Nice place. You two've been here before?"

Jimmy nods while stuffing more buttery lobster
into his grinning mouth. Sounding like he's
gagging while he chews he says, "Yeah. I
think one of the half-naked chicks has a thing
for me."

As if, unless the delectable in question goes
for bottom feeders. Not raising my eyes a
degree, I say, "Be cool, man. The government
could be setting you up, using her as bait."
Shifty-eyed, zinger-slinger extraordinaire
that I am, I see he's mulling that over
despite his industrial strength smirking.
"Don't wanna be caught with your pants pulled
down over your eyes."

"I'm too swift to be anyone's patsy," Jimmy
insists, nets the server for our table with
an electric snap of his fingers, and
requests a refill for our pitcher of Black

Landau regards his simpering acquaintance
with something akin to clairvoyance, I read.
His look has my spine mass-producing icicles.

Which is why I mutter, "That's what they all
say. Nobody chooses going a flight up from
cautious civilian to a done human binary
tree." After I've poured myself another
installment of beverage of respectable
alcoholic content, I sip it slowly, swaddled
in a semi-conscious revery. Nursing
suspicions comes all too easy when I let my
overloaded mind coast like this, as nuances
of conspiracy-tinged thoughts which my
co-con theorists hold in common wend their
way through it. "Nobody wakes up one day
and says, 'Hey, I wanna be a patsy.' Only,
there's one born every halved second..."

Landau's contemplative eyes target me.
"Jimmy's right about the girl, but wrong
about who's getting paid her attention, my
friend." I stare him down, pupils for

"You think it's you?" Jimmy whinily objects,
which I'd admire under varying circumstances.

"No, GP--"

"GP? What the hell's GP?" Jimmy erupts,
looking flustered.

Landau zeroes in on the scrawny man's T-shirt,
then lampoons me with a glancing dekko and I
feel the iciness spreading. "Not the sharpest
tack in the pack, is he?" My mouth puckers
like it's crammed with sourballs. "No, not
_me_, and definitely not _you_. Our dining
companion of the tow persuasion."

I tense. In a single move I never saw coming,
I feel him box me in.

"See that strawberry blonde over by Hermes'
Fountain. No, no. Over to your right,

My face radiates fever, my eyes dart
nervously over to where he's stipulated, and
when my jittery peepers settle upon the
sensuous vision sheathed in luminosity, I
know I look as if I've seen a ghost, which I
have. It _can't_ be. What the hell's _she_
doing here? Looking as mouth-watering as
she does? Looking so not how I remember
her, way back when...when she was my...first
... Love; my personal angel of many an Erie

"W-What about her?" I half-demand, half-
plead. I so hate it when I sound like a
stooge to the point where I'm ready to get up
and get the hell out of here. I steal another
look, and there's no doubt about it. She's
not figmentary. I'm gawking at my former
girlfriend, Cin...Cindy Tanner, in conjunction
with my ass reuniting with my chair's plushy

Damn, she looks good! I can't take my eyes
off her now.

"She can't take her eyes off you. Hasn't
since she pranced out," Landau informs,
piercing me with syrupy, knowing looks.
Yeah, he must really think I'm as dense as
they come with me wide-eyed and jaw dropped
somewhere around my ankles.

Excitedly, Jimmy exclaims, like he's ready
to pee in his pants, "She's comin' over,
dudes." He's gulping deep breaths. "Hey,
Langly, this is your big chance. Don't blow
it. You play it right, she might return the

"Shut the hell up, dweeb," I say all snarly
in the pit of my throat.

Sluggin' him feels like a good idea, as a
treasure trove of ticklish memories seize the
reins of what I'm remembering. ...Like that
Friday afternoon, one in a host of many, when
she babysat the Palmatry's four-year old brat
on wheels. I'd rolled up to keep her company.
What was that juvenile delinquent in the
making's name? Vincent, I think it was. Yep,
that's it.

Vinny had had other ideas about what to do
with his vanilla and chocolate shake, like
splashing it all over the kitchen and me.
As it had turned out, it wasn't a major
catastrophe. My 'Doors' T-shirt never quite
looked the same, though. The lactose faded
the lettering permanantly.

After Cin had washed the mess out of my hair,
which wasn't quite as long back then, giving
me the greatest towel dry I'd ever had, I
volunteered my services, and cleaned up while
she settled the blue-eyed monster (I really
wanted to impress her. Nowadays, I let Byers
knock himself out). Once that mission of
spruce-up had been accomplished, we had the
rest of the afternoon and the better part of
the evening to ourselves. That impromptu make
out session has replayed in my mind many times
over the years. (No, we didn't, so get your
minds out the gutter. She was working, and our
relationship wasn't about 'that thing'. One
thing was always a given, though. She always
treated me right.) We were cautious make out
artists. I couldn't let Cin know I was scared
to death she'd see what a total loser I was,
even back then, if we tried going all the way.
Hell, the loser I still am, which is why I see
so much of Cin in Leese. I consistently drew
the line, and as exceptional as Cin was, she
never had a problem with it. I loved her;
really loved her...

My former's coming over, wearing a face I'm
having a hell of a time reading. Is she glad
to see me, or is that disappointment trying
hard not to be obvious? With my emotions in
an uproar, I know what I must look like.
Very, very uncomfortable.


End Part 1