Some Weird Sin

By Cameragrrrl

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 
the cows.

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 
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. 

* * *