By ML
msnsc21@aol.com
 

Feedback: always welcome!
Date: October 26,2004
Distribution:  Yes to Ephemeral and Gossamer, or if you've
archived me before.  If you haven't, please drop me a line
and let me know, and leave headers, etc. attached.  Thank you!
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Various S9 eps through The Truth
Classification: Vignette
Keywords: Lone Gunmen
Summary:  "So what do you want to do today?"

Note: This story is either AU or not.  It depends on whether
you accept what happened in "Jump the Shark."  I'd prefer that
JtS had never happened, but for the purposes of this story,
it did.

Disclaimer:  All the characters named in this story belong
to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and FOX.  I mean
no infringement, and I'm not making any money.

=====

Where the Boys Are
by ML

"Gentlemen, it appears we are at leisure," Byers said, as their
surroundings morphed into the familiar surroundings of the Magic
Bullet headquarters.

"So what do you want to do today?"  Frohike asked, examining a
loose thread on his sleeve.

"What we do every day," Langly said.  "World domination."

"That's the other guys, not us," Frohike replied.  "I have
questions.  For instance, where are we?"

Byers looked around him.  "It appears we're home."

"Yeah, but most of the stuff that's here we'd sold off," Langly
objected.  "Who would have put it back?"

"More to the point, how did *we* get here?"  Byers asked.  "A
few minutes ago, we were beside a desert highway, talking to
Mulder."

"Hell, I don't even know how we got there," said Frohike.  "Do
you remember where we were before that?"

Byers shook his head.  "Nothing's very clear.  I feel like I've
been dreaming.  Was Mulder on trial for something?  Were we
there?  I remember Mulder being gone."  He shook his head
again, trying to clear it.  "Some of it seems more like a
dream."

"Do you remember seeing Jimmy and Yves?"  Frohike asked.

Byers thought some more.  "We were investigating..."  His
dismayed look might have been comical, except it wasn't.
"Oh..."

"Yeah," said Langly.  "Not a dream, Byers."

Byers looked shaken.  "So it really did happen."

"Looks like it,"  Frohike said.  "You gotta stay with us, man."

"Yeah," Langly said.  "It's a drag having to explain it all to
you each time.  It's not something I wanna remember, either."

"You're the logical one, Byers," Frohike said with a hard look
at Langly.  "Maybe that's why you keep `forgetting' what happened.
I never heard of a ghost in denial."

"Didn't you ever see `Sixth Sense'? Langly asked.  "It was full
of ghosts in denial."

"Is that what we are?"  Byers asked.

"Hard to tell," said Frohike.  "Maybe we've just developed super
powers."

"Oh ha," said Langly.  "If that's the case, we should be able to
do anything."

"Not really, Comic-Book Boy," said Frohike.  "Most super heroes
have specific powers.  There are restrictions on what they can do.
They have vulnerabilities.  Didn't you ever see `Unbreakable?'"

"Okay," Langly said.  "So try something.  Fly around the room.
Go invisible.  Read my mind."

"Read this," Frohike said, holding up his middle finger.

Byers stepped between them.  "Now now, gentlemen," he said.
"Whatever we are, we should figure out what we're here for, and
what we can and cannot do."

"What would you do if you could do anything?"  Frohike asked.

"I'm not sure.  Go find Susanne, maybe?"

"And do what?"  Langly asked.  "Haunt her?"

"Put a sock in it, Langly," Frohike warned.

Byers blushed.  "I'd just like to know if she's okay.  Do you
suppose we'd know if she was, uh, a ghost, too?"

Frohike shrugged.  "Dunno, man.  I haven't seen any other ghostly
manifestations.  You?"

Langly blurted out,  "I'd see if Esther Nairn really is in
cyberspace."

"Yeah, you'd make a great ghost in the machine, man," said
Frohike.  "I shudder to think.  But I say we try whatever we
can.  Doesn't look like anyone's going to actually tell us
what we can do or not do."

"Not that we'd believe them anyway," Langly muttered.

x-x-x-x

After Langly tried with no success to will himself into the
hard drive of his old computer, and Byers had assumed a
meditative pose for who knows how long, they came to the
conclusion that their abilities were, in fact, limited.

"Maybe we can't go anywhere that we haven't already been,"
Byers theorized.

"Or we can't go until someone needs us?"  Frohike suggested.

"Why?  Where did you try to go?"  Langly asked.

"Nowhere.  I was watching you guys," Frohike replied.  "If we
can only go places we've been, how does that explain the desert?
Have you guys ever been before?"

The other two shook their heads.

"Well, let's try going somewhere where someone needs us,"
Frohike said.

x-x-x-x

The office was so quiet it might have been empty, except they
could see the man at his desk, his head in his hands.

A knock at the outer door startled all of them.

"Come," barked Skinner, straightening his spine.

The Gunmen looked around frantically for a place to hide, then
realized no one could see them.

Skinner's assistant opened the door.  "Sir, I'm getting ready to
leave.  Is there anything you need?"

"No," Skinner said, his voice sounding rusty.  He cleared his
throat.  "Thank you, Kim.  I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes Sir," she said.  "The draft of the eulogy is in a folder
on my desk.  Do you want it?"

Skinner shook his head.  "Later."

"Good night, Sir," she said softly, and shut the door with a
quiet click.

"Whose eulogy?"  Byers whispered.

"Whose do you think?"  Frohike hissed back.

"Should we tell him?" Byers asked.

"*Can* we tell him?" Frohike countered.

"Why are you whispering?"  Langly asked in a normal tone.  "Hey
Skinner!"  he yelled.  There was no reaction from the man at
the desk.  "He obviously can't hear us."

They regarded the silent man staring at the papers before him.

"He looks kind of gray," Byers remarked.

"Yeah, did you notice that his secretary did, too?"  Frohike said.

"Maybe everyone looks like that to us," Byers said.

"Mulder didn't," Frohike pointed out.

"Maybe all this has something to do with Mulder," Byers continued.

"Well, that's a big duh," Langly said.  "We just don't know what."

Frohike stood beside Skinner at his desk, peering at the papers
before him.  "Shit, he's retiring!"

"Can't blame him," Langly said.

"We've got to find a way to tell him about Mulder and Scully,"
Byers said urgently.

"Do you think it'll make a difference to him?"  Langly asked.

"Of course it will!"  said Frohike.

Byers and Langly joined Frohike behind the desk, surrounding
Skinner.

"Skinner," Frohike said.

"Mister Skinner," added Byers.

"Hey Skinman," Langly bellowed.

Skinner seemed to flinch just a fraction.

The other two looked at Langly.

"What?"  he said.  "We want his attention, don't we?"

"Okay, on three," Frohike said.  "One, two, three..."

"Skinner!"  "Mr. Skinner!"  "Hey Skinman!"  The three voices
chorused behind Walter Skinner.

He stood up, suddenly alert.  The three men stepped back,
though they felt no impact from the chair skidding through
them.

"Mr. Skinner, if you can hear this, you're not dreaming," Byers
said.

Skinner stood very still.  He appeared to be listening.

"Skinner, they're not dead," Frohike added.

"Yeah, and I bet *we* could find them for you," Langly boasted.

Skinner didn't move.  Curious, Frohike went to the front of the
desk.  "I think he *thinks* he heard something," he said.  "He
doesn't look like he's lost his last friend, anyway."

Skinner reached for the phone, hesitated, then pulled a cell
phone from his pocket.  "John?  I think we need to talk."

The Gunmen strained to hear John Doggett's low tones but
couldn't.

"No, not official business.  Yes, bring Agent Re -- Monica,
too."  He listened some more.  "No, I have a place in mind,"
he said.  "I'll call you on the way."  He hung up and shrugged
his jacket on, sweeping the papers on his desk into his briefcase.

"Bet I know where he's going," Frohike said.

"You think?"  Langly asked.

"Let's meet him there," said Byers.

x-x-x-x

The reality of their former headquarters was much more bleak
than their remembered construct.

"Do you think we still own the building?"  Byers asked.  They'd
purchased it during the short, happy days of their video game
profits.

"It's Mulder's," Frohike reminded him.  "We left it to him."

Police tape still fluttered around the door frame, but Skinner
let himself in with keys, handling all the locks with a deftness
that spoke of practice.

Inside there were still a few dusty pieces of equipment and
furnishings.  Also some things that were familiar, but not
theirs.

"Hey, that's Mulder's couch," Langly pointed out.

"I think Scully moved this stuff here," Byers said.  "I sort
of remember something."  He remembered fleeting moments he'd
rather not:  Scully's grief, her breakdown alone in this
warehouse after losing her lover, her son, and her friends,
all in less than the span of a year.  Then she'd squared her
shoulders, dried her eyes, and went on.

"Looks like Skinner's the caretaker now," said Frohike.

Skinner looked around at a knock on the door.  It opened to
reveal John Doggett and Monica Reyes.

"I hope he's better at security than it looks," Langly
muttered.

"How you doing, Sir?"  Doggett asked.  "Something up?"

Skinner didn't look quite as determined as he had a moment
before.  "Come in, you two," he said.  "Not much to offer
in the way of hospitality, I'm afraid."

"Guess I shoulda brought a six pack," Doggett said, trying
for a light tone.  "I'd be kinda afraid to look in the fridge
here.  Too many science experiments gone wrong, I bet."

Langly bristled.  "What the hell does he know?  I kept a clean
kitchen."

"Down boy," Frohike said.  "He's just making conversation."

"Have you heard something, Sir?"  Monica Reyes asked.

Skinner faltered a little.  "I'm not sure.  Tell me again what
you saw in the canyon."

"Well, there was a huge explosion and it came from where we
last saw Mulder and Scully,"  Doggett said.  "It pretty much
destroyed everything.  There wasn't much to recover.  Not
enough to do a positive ID, anyway."

"It's been weeks, Sir," Monica said softly.  "Don't you think
we'd have heard something if they were still alive?"

"Weeks?"  Byers said to Frohike.  "I thought--"

"I don't think time means much to us any more," Frohike
replied.

"What have you heard?"  Doggett asked.

"This will sound strange," Skinner said.  "It's more of a
feeling."

"Strange to John, maybe," Monica said, making her own attempt
at lightness.

"I was alone in my office this evening, and I had the strongest
feeling that someone was trying to tell me something."

"Not Mulder?  Not Scully?"  Monica prompted.

"No.  Somehow I think I'd know if it was either of them.  But
I got the very strong feeling that they aren't dead."

Frohike mimed high-fives with Langly and Byers.

"So what're we gonna do about it?"  Doggett asked.  No protest,
no quibbling about what Skinner might or might not have felt.
Monica just looked smug, like she'd known all along.

"There's hope for him yet," Frohike stage-whispered in Monica's
ear.  She made no sign that she heard him.

"Nothing yet," Skinner said.  "I'm going ahead with my plans
for now."

Both Doggett and Reyes looked a question at Skinner.

"I'm retiring from the FBI," he explained.  "I'm going to go
fishing.  But the location and the catch might be different."

"What if they don't want to be found?"  Doggett asked.

"You might be followed  You might endanger them even more,"
Monica said.

"I have thought of that," Skinner said with a trace of
impatience.  "That's why I think it's important at this point
to go about our business.  There's still a lot we don't know."

"Are you going to try and bring them back?"

"Not if they don't want to come.  And the way things stand now,
I'm sure they wouldn't.  I've been fighting for a posthumous
pardon for Mulder so he could be `buried' with honor.  If I can
swing that, at least any official danger will be taken care of."

"But they'll still be in danger," Doggett pointed out.

"So are you and Reyes.  So am I.  We all are, every day of our
lives," Skinner growled.  "That's how we know we're alive."

"What is he, some kind of adrenaline junkie?" Langly snickered.

Byers elbowed him.  "Have some respect,"  he hissed.

"Why?  He can't hear us," Langly said.

"But he can feel us," Frohike reminded him.

Skinner went on, oblivious to the argument around him.  "As
long as you two are on the X-Files, you've still got a lot of
license to check out whatever you need to, including threats."

"Yeah," Doggett said.  "I still can't figure out Kersh's change
of heart."

"Maybe it's as simple as finding a way to fight these guys,"
Monica said.  "Having someone explode in your office is quite
a wake-up call."

Skinner shook his head.  "That was too close for comfort.
Whoever planted the magnetite in there --"  he shook his
head.  "I guess we'll never know."

"You sure you shouldn't stay inside the FBI?"  Doggett asked.

"You and Agent Reyes will have to be the ones inside," said
Skinner.  "With Kersh's help, I hope."

"I still don't know about Kersh," repeated Doggett.  "I feel
like he could go one way or the other, you know?"

"I think he's still a by-the-book guy," Skinner continued.
"If you don't try to piss him off all the time the way Mulder
did, you should be okay."

"I don't think anyone could beat Mulder in that department,"
Doggett replied.

Frohike swaggered over to Skinner and clapped a hand on his
back.  "Louie," he said in his best Bogart, which wasn't very
good, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Skinner looked momentarily startled.

"You okay, Sir?"  Doggett asked.

"Yeah," said Skinman.  "Just a funny feeling."

"Goose walked over your grave?"

"No," he said slowly.  "Not like that.  Different feeling."
He half smiled.

"You're not gonna go all Monica on me, are you?"  Doggett
asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"  Monica asked indignantly.

"Maybe just that you're more optimistic than he is," Skinner
said.  "I think that's what this is.  It's been a while since
I've felt anything like it."

Monica smiled, and Doggett just looked bemused.

Byers smiled, too.

"What are you so happy about?"  Langly asked.

Byers said, "Gentlemen, I think we might have discovered
another reason for hanging around."

end.

Thanks for reading!  I'd love to know what you think of
this story.  Email me at:  msnsc21@aol.com

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