--Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins 

~The Lonegunmen, Jimmy, Mulder, and Scully all belong to Chris 
Charter. I did not get permission to use these characters or make 
any profit off of them. This is a short `what if' story. ~

I couldn't believe it. We've been spotted. I tried to call the guys 
in on our transmitters, kind of like the ones on Star Trek. I hear 
people running towards me and did what Frohike told me to do. Jump 
over the fence and hide. Leave. Get out of harms way. I did.

I scrambled over the fence, tough to do in my dress shoes, 
and got my pants leg hung on the top. I struggle a bit then hear a 
loud rip as my pants tear free. I overbalance and fall hard to the 
ground, rolling down into the ditch full of weeds and what I hope is 
just rainwater. 

As I make the other side of the ditch, my heart falls and my 
gut freezes at the sound of gunfire behind me. Part of me knows it 
isn't me they are shooting at. They're shooting at the guys. But I 
run into the dark woods just beyond, hoping that my three friends are 
okay. I trip more than once on tree roots and the underbrush as I 
run on through, towards what I remember the guys said would be the 
meeting spot. When I make it to the parked van on the other side of 
the green belt, no one is there. I don't even have a key. It's 
pitch black and I listen hard, trying to hear if I was alone. I 
was. I didn't like it. Where were the guys? What had gone wrong?

All I was allowed to know was that we were going to check out 
this company who was supposed to be eco-friendly but was 
experimenting on animals or something, using some sorta mind control 
drug they had run into a few years back. The guys had left me here 
as point. I thought it was going okay. The guys are real smart. I 
can't even program a V.C.R. and they can break into the Franklin Mint 
and empty their vaults. So, how come their plan went wrong? Where 
are they?

I had been waiting quietly by the van for almost ten minutes 
when I heard a noise coming out of the woods. Um, what was our alert 
signal again? I don't remember what a giraffe sounds like, so I make 
a sound up, calling it three times.

I hear someone sigh and then get the answering sound, a rabid 
raccoon getting hit by a truck. Next time I'll come up with 
something that sounds better for the guys to use as recognition 
signals.

Grinning, I whisper loudly, "I was worried when I heard gun 
shots. You guys alright?"

"No." I hear Byers say, his voice sounded strange. It 
wasn't pleasant like usual and that word caused fear to sour my belly.

"Were one of you-" I start but cannot finish.

"Jimmy, we have to get Frohike to the hospital, NOW!" Byers 
said.

It was dark, but I had been out here long enough for my eyes 
to get adjusted and now I could see that two people were supporting a 
third.

"Frohike got shot?" I say, panic fills me and I rush 
over, "Give me the keys. I'll drive!"

"No way! Don't let him, please, Byers!" Protests a voice I 
know and admire. It momentarily warms my heart to hear Frohike sound 
like himself, until I realize how strained his voice is. He is 
hurting. How bad is it? It can't be that bad if he's talking, 
right? Right?

"I'll drive. I got the keys. Here," Langly grabs my 
arm, "take Frohike and I'll open up the van."

I do as Langly says and take Frohike into my arms. I can 
support him by myself and lift him up cradling him in my arms so 
Byers doesn't have to hold him anymore. Frohike doesn't even 
struggle against me, like he might under normal circumstances. He 
lets me hold him. God, I think, it's bad. I hold onto to him, 
afraid.

The van door slides open and Langly ushers Frohike and me 
inside. They close the door and turn on the ceiling light (it 
doesn't light up when you open the door for some reason) and I get my 
first look at the damage. I bite back a sob. It's bad! His chest 
looks like Swiss cheese with and his shirt is soaked in his blood. 
He can barely keep his eyes open and his head from rolling back. I 
keep a hold of him, hugging him.

"Frohike. Frohike!" I say his name over and over, hoping to 
keep his attention so he doesn't leave.

Langly fires up the van and hits the gas and we peel out of 
there, almost tipping the van over as he makes a fast, tight corner. 
I jiggle Frohike slightly.

"Come on, Buddy. Come on, who am I? Say my name." I say.

"Royal Pain in the Ass." Frohike mumbles. His eyes aren't 
open and he tries to let his head sag back.

"Close enough." I say.

"Come on, Jimmy." Byers says to me, then to Frohike, "Come 
on, Frohike, hang in there. Just eight minutes and we'll be at a 
hospital. Stay with us, okay? We have that appointment with Scully 
tomorrow. You don't want to miss it, do you?"

I have heard tales about the infamous Agent Scully and how 
Frohike favored her. I have never met her and had been happy to have 
a chance to do so tomorrow, but I wanted Frohike to introduce her to 
me.

I jiggle him slightly again, "Yeah. Come on, Frohike, you 
have to introduce Scully to me."
There was no response. I jiggle him again and panic grips me 
tighter. I look up at Byers with a look of horror on my face. Byers 
lunges forward and places a hand on Frohike's neck. He leaves it 
there for a moment, then another.

"Langly!" Byers yells, voice breaking.

"Almost there! Hold on!" Langly yells back.

"I don't have a pulse!" Byers is frantic.

"Are we there yet?" I holler and crush Frohike's 
frighteningly still body closer to mine. I don't care that his blood 
is getting all over my sports jacket and white shirt.

"GOD! Just a moment! Stupid stone age van!" Langly curses.

"This can't be happening." I say over and over again, like 
it was a prayer, I rock Frohike back and forth in our chair as the 
van makes crazy, wild turns.

Byers is quiet. The computer glow lights up his face. It 
has a look of barely contained anguish and I know that this is really 
bad. I am afraid.

When we had gotten to the hospital, we'd careened into the 
emergency driveway. I had hauled Frohike out with Byers behind and 
Langly after him. The doctors had taken Frohike from us and nurses 
and we were sent to the waiting room. Byers had to fill out form 
after form for this and that and Langly called Mulder and Scully. It 
hadn't seemed like much time had passed, but enough did for us to 
have sunk into a pit of despair. I wondered what was going on in 
Byers and Langly's heads while we waited. They were very quiet and 
the look of dread never left their faces. I looked up to see a 
doctor coming towards us with blood smeared on his smock and with a 
look that didn't look like it was full of good news.

"I'm sorry. Your friend was dead before you arrived. We 
tried to resuscitate him, but the damage was too extensive. I'm 
sorry. You may go in and say your respects to him before we take him 
to the morgue, if you like. Again, my sympathies."

I can't believe it! He can't be gone! I follow Byers and 
Langly silently down to the little room that was now completely 
empty. Empty as in it just had Frohike's body in it, not Frohike. 
As I knew him, anyway. A lump grew in my throat as I stared at his 
body. He'd died in my arms. I'd never been so close to death 
before. 

I don't hear whatever it is that Byers and Langly say to the 
body of Frohike as I stare at the still, lifeless form. When they 
back up to give me room to say goodbye, I step up and clasp his 
hand. It feels funny. Growing cold, slowly. It doesn't feel real. 
If Frohike were alive he'd never let me hold his hand. I grip it and 
find that tears fall from my eyes.

"I know I've only known you for a little while, but I like to 
think that we were friends. The guys, they love you and I don't know 
how they will be after all of this. I will try to do my best by them 
for you, okay? I'll try not to screw up. I know how much you hated 
it when I did. I'm sorry for putting the coffee filters through the 
paper shredder and all that other stuff. I'll do better because it's 
what you would have wanted. I'll try to think before I act. I… I 
don't know what else to say…"

I didn't, so I left it at that.