The Sitter
By: Brenna "Snakelady" Dawkins

~The Lone Gunmen belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Studios. This story 
is a work of fiction and was no way endorsed or acknowledged by C.C. 
Rated Pg. ~


"Can I have a glass of water?" Came the whining voice over 
the intercom Frohike now had second doubts about setting up for the 
kid.

"Can't you get it yourself? I'm in the middle of something. 
And besides, this is your fourth glass of water and I don't want to 
find out you peed all over my bed in the morning." Frohike irritably 
punched the call back button on his intercom that was an easy arms 
length from his computer station. 

"I'm thirsty and it's hot."

Frohike ground his teeth. "It's okay to be thirsty and 
hot." It was something his dad had always said to him when he had 
been little. It had been a practical and useful countermove that he 
had never appreciated until now. Would he get much in return from 
the South American trade market for this kid? He doubted 
it. "Anyway, I bugged the door. It can't be opened until morning, 
if it is, it will trigger a laser that will blast you into ash if you 
so much as jiggle the handle. Go to bed. It can wait until morning."

There was awed silence on the other end. It was a boldfaced 
lie, but he hoped it worked. The kid was young enough to believe it, 
he hoped anyway. Ah, peace. The intercom went quiet at long last 
and he continued with his latest storyline. So he jumped and almost 
fell out of his chair when someone tapped him on the shoulder from 
behind.

"Laser didn't work. You must have hooked it up wrong." A 
small voice trying to sound grown up spoke softly from behind him.

"Kidů. what are you doing out of bed? What did I tell you?" 
Frohike half spun his chair about to face the doe eyed seven year old 
boy.

"But, I got lonely. Can't I just stay here with you?" Was 
the youth's reply.

"No. Your mom said bedtime was eight o'clock. It's almost 
ten thirty. Besides, this isn't a game I'm playing with and I don't 
want to explain to your mother why you're so tired in the morning." 
Frohike sighed. If he had any idea what he had let himself get 
talked into before this, he'd never had done it. 

Byers had made a date with some girl he met online and she 
had a female friend and she didn't want to go out on a date with 
Byers unless her friend could go. But her friend had this kid. 
Langly gallantly agreed to partner the other woman and she agreed as 
long as she had a sitter for the kid. And that's how he got stuck at 
home watching a seven year old that had a million and one useless 
questions for him and a knack for annoying the now very frazzled 
aging computer nerd. 

"But, it's a big bed. And it smells funny." The kid 
whimpered almost pathetically.

"That's my bed. It smells like me." Frohike frowned. He 
did NOT smell funny.

"When's Mommy going to come and get me?" The kid asked.

"In the morning. Six a.m. sharp." Frohike hoped and put a 
little alarm reminder on his computer to announce that joyous time. 
At least, that's what they had told him.

But that seemed like a lifetime away now.

"What are you doing?" The kid asked.

"I'm working, if you can call typing two words between a 
barrage of stupid questions working." Frohike said with his usual 
crypticness. 

"What are you typing?"

He wanted to scream. Would the kid always counter his 
answers with another question?

"Go to bed."

The kid tried to forcibly crawl into his lap and Frohike just 
didn't have the energy to combat it so the kid happily slithered up 
onto his new perch. 

"Spin!" The kid sat in his lap and bounced up and down 
painfully on his legs. "Spin!"

Frohike scowled. He'd never get this done before they had to 
take it to the printer's tomorrow.

"Spin!" The kid chanted.

If only to keep the kid from pounding that tailbone into his 
own leg, Frohike thought and obliged the kid by making the computer 
chair spin in place. He was really glad no one could see him do 
that. The kid squealed in delight and urged Frohike to go faster. 
It didn't last long. He was getting dizzy and the kid was shrieking 
with glee at the top of his lungs.

"Okay. That's enough. Now, get to bed." He commanded and 
tried to shove the kid off of his lap. 

"Don't wanna go back upstairs. It's scary to go by myself." 
The kid did his best to remain on his perch and squirmed and then 
latched onto Frohike's arm and by clamping his legs around an 
intensely annoyed Lone Gunmen. 

"You came down here with no problem."

The kid wouldn't hear any of it and wriggled until he was 
able to see the computer screen and grabbed onto the keyboard.

"HEY!" Frohike made to grab the precious commodity from the 
kid.

"You get Diablo II on this?" The kid proceeded to punch some 
keys.

"No. And I doubt you are allowed to play such a game 
anyway. Besides, that'd be on Langly's computer." Frohike yanked 
the keyboard out of the kid's hands. "Come on."

He led the kid to his bedroom and pointed to his bed but the 
kid shuffled his bare feet reluctantly. Frohike placed a hand on the 
kids back and ushered the kid to the bed.

"Mom always tucks me in." The kid whined as he slipped under 
the covers.

Frohike growled. "I'm not your mom." He sighed and then 
proceeded to tuck the kid in. "Now, go to sleep."

"No story?" 

God help him!

"Fine. This is the tale of The Little Kid and the Three 
Hackers."

"Not heard of that one."

"Great. So shut up and let me tell it." Frohike sat on the 
bed. "Now, once upon a time, there was a little bra-er, kid who 
thought it would be neat to hang out with three of the coolest guys 
in town. Now, unfortunately, the really cool guys were not home, but 
the kid decided to break in and sift through all of their highly 
classified secrets."

"Is the kid called Goldilocks?"

"The kid doesn't have a name." Frohike said.

"Why not?"

"Doesn't need one."

"Everyone needs a name."

"No. It doesn't matter. It's just a story. Now shut up and 
let me tell it."

The phone rang. "At this hour?" Frohike picked it 
up. "Lone Gunmen." A pause. "What? You're kidding. You guys owe 
me BIG time for this." He slammed the phone back into the receiver.

"What's wrong?" The kid asked his hundredth thousandth 
question.

"Time for a road trip, kid." Frohike sighed.

"I get to stay up?" The kid asked excitedly. 

"Not MY idea. Come on, get some shoes on."

The kid scrambled out of the bed and Frohike had to help him 
tie up his laces.

"Where are we going?"

"No where." Frohike grabbed his vest. "Move it or lose it!"

The kid hurried after Frohike who, after securing the 
warehouse, hopped into the van with the kid right behind. He sped 
out of the drive and onto the street grumbling to himself. It wasn't 
how he had planned to spend the night. He pulled up to the police 
station and dragged the kid with him and asked the officer at the 
front desk where booking was.

They were led into a room where he found the four of them, 
sitting at a table in a room with a holding cell and guarded by two 
officers.

"Okay, you guys. What happened?" Frohike glowered at Byers 
and Langly. The kid ran up to his mother who took him in her arms.

"It was his fault." Langly pointed his finger at Byers.

"They swore it was legit." Byers insisted.

"What are you talking about?"

"The tickets." Langly replied.

"What tickets?" Frohike said wearily.

"The All-Star tickets. We stumbled upon a rather large 
fencing operation." Byers said.

Langly was unhappy. "We didn't know it at first. And they 
had been under surveillance by the cops and we happened to be in the 
wrong place at the wrong time."

"Wait, you mean you guys bought bogus tickets and were picked 
up for it while I'm stuck with the kid? Brilliant. I've of a mind 
to leave you guys here overnight to teach you a lesson."

"You wouldn't!" Langly sat up in his chair indignantly. 

"Watch me, hippy."

"Frohike. What are your intentions?" Byers asked seriously.

"I'll get you guys outů but not tonight. Come on, kid. I'll 
get you some ice cream." He held his gloved hand out and the kid 
said bye to his mom who was glaring daggers at Frohike.

"Chocolate chip?" The kid grabbed onto Frohike's hand and 
looked up adoringly at the older man.

"Hey, whatever you want. Ta ta, guys and gals. See you in 
the morning."

Frohike felt justified in his form of punishment and left to 
the sound of outraged protests. Fine with him. He and a happy seven 
year old strolled out of the station to see if there were any ice 
cream parlors still open so late. The kid really wasn't so bad. He 
was willing to drop his mother with the promise of ice cream and his 
company. What the Hell? Kid's got taste. And the rest of the night 
went much more smoothly.

End