Some Weird Sin
Disclaimer and some such:
I do not have the rights to use any characters
officially associated with The X-Files/ Lone Gunmen
television series. I am using these characters without the
permission of FOX, 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, or
any other copyright owners. Of course, this is intended for
[non-profit] entertainment only, and no
infringement on copyrights or trademarks
was intended by the author.
Any similarities to people, places, and other works of
fanfiction are purely coincidental.
All other characters not officially associated with
The X-Files/ Lone Gunmen (including, but not limited to,
Smithee and Ellroy) are property of the author
and should not be recycled into another story without
No animals were harmed during the making of this fanfic,
except for two mosquitoes and one waterbug.
Cost of coffee drunk while writing this: $15.82
Cost of paper used to print out draft copies: $2.38
Cost of Anne Hawley's beta-reading skills: PRICELESS
The 'present' of this story takes place a few years
before The Lone Gunmen series timeline.
* * *
Ever have one of those days where you feel
out of sync with the world? Like you're
walking down a street, and you can't maneuver
through the crowds of people because everywhere
you step there's someone in your way? And you get
so pissed off at everyone's inefficiency that you
just want to punch them all?
I feel like that almost all the time. Maybe that's
why I've never had a significant Significant Other.
Maybe that's why I never smile.
Or maybe it's because I once saw a picture of
myself smiling, and it scared me - because
I get these creases in my cheeks that used
to be dimples when I was a kid but now they're
like craters, and my nostrils flare out which
makes my nose look even more beakish than usual.
And I'm a frightening guy to look at, without that extra
I wonder what my dad would think of Frohike and Byers.
Would he disapprove of them, the way Byers'
dad hates us? He'd think they were an improvement
if he knew some of the other people I used to hang
out with. I wonder if Frohike's dad was still alive,
what he would think of us. I bet he'd approve;
I've heard Frohike talk about his old man and he
eemed really decent - loving, and easy to love.
Why can't all parents be that way? Because.
Families are complicated things.
Damn, there's a lot of corn in Nebraska.
Corn and billboards. And cows. Can't forget
It's a long drive. Four hours. It'll probably
be more, because I take it slow and steady.
The Nebraska Highway Patrol can be real bastards -
especially to people with long hair and out of state IDs.
Even the guy at the rent-a-car booth gave me a
suspicious look, and I almost kicked myself for never
bothering to renew my Nebraska license, for wearing
my Fugazi: Song Number One Is Not a Fuck You Song shirt,
and for not combing my hair before or after I got on the
But it's scary how quickly the accent creeps back in.
Not that it was ever completely gone.
On the good side, I did remember to bring my MY SON
IS AN HONOR STUDENT AT ST. JOHN'S ELEMENTARY,
and I ( AMERICA bumper stickers. Truly a
must-have for any paranoid venturing into
the Great American Heartland. Helps you
blend - especially when you're stupid enough
to wear clothing with cuss-words in bold,
black letters. If Frohike were here, he'd be
one big I-told-you-so.
This is what I think about as I drive home
from the airport.
Home. Okay. It's strange and inaccurate to use
that word, in relation to where I'm going.
Technically, it's not my home. I never lived there.
I've never even seen it before - it's the house my
dad moved in to, after selling the farm. He moved
there after I left.
Nebraska seems hillier, like it developed some
character in the past ten years. My palms are
all sweaty. I keep wiping them on my jeans;
it's hard to grip the steering wheel.
Slow and steady. Don't swerve. With my arrest record,
a moving violation will send me straight to prison.
I'm starting to panic. I really wish Frohike
and Byers were here. I don't know if I can do this alone.
* * *