TITLE: Hate That Desktop 
AUTHOR: Meghan O'Connor 
EMAIL: gyrfalcon@yahoo.com 
FEEDBACK: Please! The more I get, the more you get! 
DISCLAIMER: The LGM and anyone else you recognize are 1013's. 
However, Rachel Ann MacGregor is all mine. 
SPOILERS: The X-Files, all up to the last season finale, and the LGM 
CATEGORY: Frohike/Rachel 
SYNOPSIS: Who would Rachel ever have reason to be jealous of? 
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I get stories from one scene flashing in my brain, 
then build from there. So, This is a prequel in the whole 
Rachel/Frohike series. I realized there is major angst possibilities 
before she ever approached him. In my mind, she's know them for 
about 6 or seven years, and realized she loved Frohike since right 
after "Three of a Kind." The title is taken from the picture of 
Agent Scully on Frohike's desktop on the official LGM website, 
from "First Person Shooter", about a year later. Kudos to YanksFan's 
story, "Elevation", for the explanation of how Frohike got Scully 
back to the hotel room after being high in Vegas, and what he got for 
his efforts.

Rachel leaned against the desk next to Langly and Byers as they 
watched Frohike delve into the latest paste-up of the paper. "I 
don't really see a difference, Fro."

He pointed to the left side of the screen. "Look, the logo is 
another inch to the left, and my column is lower. Isn't that more 
visually appealing?" The other three rolled their eyes and left the 
table. Rachel headed for the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder 
to him.

"Whatever you say, Fro. Guess I'm just not journalistically inclined 
towards paste-up enough to see it. Want a beer?"

"Sure. Hey, wanna see my latest and greatest in desktop wallpaper?"

She came back in and handed him a beer. He took it with his left, 
keeping his right hand clicking on the mouse. "Sure, as long as it's 
not more Nixon pics." He chuckled.

"No, this is not a fallen icon, but rather, an angel." Rachel looked 
at him with one eyebrow raised in a "yeah sure" look. "Oooo, keep 
that up, it's almost the way she does it." He gestured at the screen.

Frohike's desktop showed a petite woman with red hair in some kind of 
plastic armor, firing a strange looking weapon with a fireburst 
coming out of the end of the barrel. Rachel realized she was seeing 
a picture of the infamous Agent Dana Scully that he always talked 
about. She had yet to meet this woman, and now she no longer wanted 
to. She felt terribly inadequate while looking at what Frohike 
consistently referred to as either "hot", "tasty", or 
downright "deliciously succulent". (Although he never used the last 
one where Mulder could hear.) She knew he was waiting for some kind 
of response. What could she possibly say that wouldn't betray how 
she felt or sound nasty and bitchy? When in doubt, fall back on 
humor. "I wouldn't piss her off."

He smiled and lightly touched the monitor, causing hurtful stabs to 
course through Rachel's veins. "Yeah, but what a way to go."

"Still . . . Don't let her see it, or she'll do more than kick your 

Just then, Byers walked past them with his coffee mug in hand. 
Glancing at the desktop, he did a double take. "Frohike, where did 
you get that picture? Agent Scully is NOT going to be happy with 

He grinned. "Gotta love game cameras. Don't worry, I can change it 
in a flash."

Byers looked at Rachel and was surprised. A furious look of jealousy 
washed over her face as she stared at the monitor. Frohike hadn't 
seen, and she was standing at too much of an angle to be reflected in 
the glass. But to Byers, her pain was terribly clear. Frohike moved 
a little, and the jealousy was replaced by a calm teasing face. She 
then looked up. "What, John, not your style?"

He treaded carefully. "Not really. She's lovely, but we all know I 
prefer blondes." They both gaped at his attempt at humor. Frohike 
mumbled something and walked off to the kitchen to start dinner. 
Byers just stood there, looking at Rachel. "Perhaps you should say 
something if you care that much."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm obviously not what he wants, John. Say 
anything and I'll rip something off. Got it?"

He blinked and raised his free hand. "Calm down, I won't say a 
word. But you're much better for him than an FBI agent that is in 
constant danger from extraterrestrial influences."

"Be that as it may, it still isn't ever likely." She looked back at 
the computer before turning to go. "And don't ever tell him how much 
I hate that desktop."