Author; Ann Rivers e mail ann.rivers@virgin.net
Spoilers; Unusual Suspects
Summary; Set immediately after the events in Unusual Suspects, Byers, Langly and Frohike try to adjust to a new life in a new town.
Rating; G
Disclaimer; Standard disclaimer applies, all characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No profit is being made from their use here. This story is dedicated to Bruce, Tom and Dean – thanks, guys, for a truly classic episode…



PASTURES NEW

Bathed in mid morning sunshine, Baltimore from the Chesapeake Bay bridge was a beautiful sight. Yet while the majority of passengers on Greyhound bus 1013 to Washington were enjoying this view, one was finding it too difficult and painful to look at.

For John Fitzgerald Byers, leaving the city which had been his home and the job which he’d loved was proving traumatic to say the least – especially when he thought of why he was having to do so. Byers sighed while shifting uncomfortably in his seat, cursing legs which were really too long to make for comfortable travelling – this movement more or less obliging him to look out of his window, affording him one last glimpse of the city and the life which he was leaving behind.

A life which was now forever changed. A life which could never be the same again.

As Baltimore finally disappeared from view, Byers sighed once more – quietly envying Langly his ability to take all that had happened to them over the past three days, even what was happening now, so seemingly effortlessly in his stride. Damn it, he even looked to be more comfortable in his seat, and Langly had to be a couple of inches taller than he was, with legs to match.

Yet there he was lounging in his seat, eyes closed and personal stereo headphones already in place, tapping his fingers to what was clearly one of his favourite tracks - looking for all the world as though he was simply heading out for a vacation rather than facing the uncertainties of starting a new life in a new city with no job, no immediate prospects and, quite possibly, a deadly price on his head.

To his surprise, not to mention his embarrassment, Byers felt a lump beginning to form in his throat. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt as miserable and as unsettled, so totally alone as this. The events of the last three days had thrown the quiet, unassuming Byers for a complete loop – the sight of Susanne Modeski in terrified, futile flight from her abductors one which still haunted him. Fearing that they would be next, Byers, Frohike and Langly had agreed they had no choice but to get out of Baltimore as fast as they could.

For the other two, already used to moving from town to town, this hadn’t posed much of a problem. All they had to do was pack what few belongings they’d brought to their hotel rooms and that was that.

But for Byers it had meant cramming all he could in the way of clothes, family heirlooms and other personal belongings from his apartment into a set of suitcases – not to mention explaining his sudden departure to his landlord as plausibly and calmly as his nerves would allow.

“Family emergency… I’m, er, needed back home…” he’d said, not entirely sure even now that his politely curious landlord had believed a word of that. Still, the money grabbing leech had been happy enough to accept the month in advance rent which Byers had somewhat ruefully handed over to him.

His bank manager had been just as curious as to why one of his most loyal, long standing customers had been so insistent on not only withdrawing his entire balance but also closing the account immediately afterwards.

“Slight, uh, change in career plans…” Byers had eventually managed, again wishing he’d had Frohike or Langly there to lend him some truth bending support as he crammed the final wad of notes into an already bulging wallet. All he could do instead was offer the bewildered manager an apologetic smile before leaving the bank as quickly as he could without arousing further intrigue. Byers took a deep, settling breath, resting his head against the seat while staring out of his window. He was fleeing his home, his job, his friends, in the company of two people who went against everything the FCC had trained him to believe in. Or should that be conditioned, he thought bleakly, glancing furtively in turn towards two people who, just days ago, had openly ridiculed him and who, even now, he found so difficult to relate to.

Swallowing hard, Byers tried to find something – anything – which would take his mind off things, a wry smile tugging at his mouth as he noticed the irony of a discarded paperback next to his feet. James Bond saving the world again from the threat of some unknown enemy power.

Another lump was forming, but of cold fear this time as the nightmare which had jolted him back to terrified consciousness in that Baltimore police cell replayed itself yet again through his mind – the clinical click of a gun barrel turning just inches from his head, the terror which had paralysed him. The moment when he was convinced he was going to die.

A moment Byers knew he would never forget, no matter how much he either wanted or tried to.

No, he thought, mentally pulling himself together, leave all the covert subterfuge and Governmental intrigue to the experts. After what he’d seen and experienced in that Baltimore warehouse, he’d had enough good guy, bad guy espionage to last him a lifetime.

Lost in thought, it took him several moments to realise that he himself had now come under scrutiny.

“You okay, Byers…?” Frohike asked with what Byers was amazed to see was genuine concern.

“Only… well, for a moment there you looked as though you were gonna heave…”

“Yeah, I… er… tend to get a bit queasy on coaches… I’ll be fine once the air conditioning kicks in…” Byers mumbled, mortified to feel himself blushing at this betrayal of weakness.

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” Frohike nodded, offering Byers a tentative smile of understanding.

“First time I went up in a combat chopper in ‘Nam my face went the same colour as my fatigues…”

Although he’d been brought up not to stare, Byers couldn’t stop himself from doing so now.

“You were in Vietnam…?” he asked, wondering how anyone so short and, well, yes he had to admit, such a rebel against authority, had made it through recruitment, let alone the rigours of military training. Realising how rude that had sounded, and now more unsettled than ever, Byers fell awkwardly silent.

To his great surprise, not to mention greater relief, Frohike seemed amused rather than offended.

“Field reconnaissance and photography…” he explained with a self-deprecating shrug of his shoulders. “I was, er, kind of too short for anything else…”

Byers couldn’t help but smile back, such was his relief at finding something other than guns, warehouses and paranoia inducing gas to think about. “What you did was just as important…” he said at last, willing himself not to stammer as he went on, “I mean, the combat units had to know where the enemy was before they could attack them, so… well, you played just as vital a part… I’ve always thought that fact should be more recognised…”

Now it was Frohike’s turn to look surprised, both by the sincerity of Byers’ words and the insight of the young man who had spoken them. Although not entirely sure of Byers’ age, Frohike couldn’t imagine him to be older than mid twenties. Certainly he was too young to have been drafted for Vietnam, yet his admiration and respect for those who had been was obvious. And that, Frohike mused with a touched smile, was a rare thing to find. Seeing Frohike’s reaction, Byers smiled back, albeit still awkwardly, and shrugged his shoulders.

“My, er, father and grandfather was both in the forces…” he explained, not quite able to keep the awkward defensiveness out of his voice as he added quietly, “I was, er, asthmatic as a child, so it was left to my older cousin to… well, keep up the Byers family tradition in joining the military… mind you, he was only just old enough to qualify when the Vietnam draft came through…”

“Oh, I see…” Frohike nodded, guessing from the suddenness with which Byers turned his head away that his family’s proud military tradition had, like thousands of others, come to a cruel and untimely end because of that brutal, needless war.

Not sure how best to console him, he then gave Byers’ shoulder a tentative squeeze of reassurance.

A little startled, Byers looked back at him, blue eyes meeting brown in a glance of mutual understanding.

And in that glance, coupled now with tentative smiles, two one time adversaries began to become friends.

“So, er, have you ever been to Washington…?” Frohike asked after a slight pause, as keen as he sensed Byers was to build on this new found friendship.

“No, never…” Byers replied, again with that charmingly shy smile as he shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, the FCC had an opening there last month, and I was certainly interested in applying for it, but… well, I’d already volunteered for the convention stall, so the transfer went to someone else…” Again Frohike just nodded while staying tactfully quiet – guessing how much Byers must have been wishing now that he’d taken that transfer instead of volunteering to host that stall.

Their encounter with Susanne Modeski and all that had happened afterwards had shaken all of them. But it had been Byers who had been most affected by the experience, more so than Langly or Frohike. Not only had his life been threatened, but everything he’d trusted and believed in had been left in ruins, and Frohike couldn’t help but feel sorry for him now as he realised the full extent of Byers’ loss. In his line of work, Frohike was used to life on the run, the ‘dark side’ which he’d jokingly welcomed Byers into on that fateful day – both he and Langly well accustomed to outwitting those in authority. But for the naïve though now not quite so idealistic Byers, this upheaval out of his comfortably secure lifestyle must have been a real shock to his system.

Now he was facing a new, no doubt dangerous life as a fugitive. A life on the run from the very people he’d once worked so loyally and trustingly for. No wonder the poor kid looked so worried.

“It’ll be okay, Byers…” Frohike said at last, smiling reassuringly across at him. “Don’t worry, Langly and I’ll make sure you’re okay…”

Already large blue eyes widened further still – not, as Frohike had feared, in disapproving suspicion, but rather in astonishment that his fears had been read so accurately by someone who barely knew him. Painfully shy and reserved in nature, Byers wasn’t used to having people read him as easily as this.

What surprised him still further was the fact that he didn’t resent Frohike’s offer of reassurance. In fact he gratefully welcomed it.

“I bet none of us thought that hosting three stalls at a two bit computer fair would lead to this…” Byers said at last with a brave if somewhat rueful smile.

“I don’t think even Langly would have put money on it… and believe me, that boy bets on anything…” Frohike replied dryly, nodding towards the now happily dozing Langly.

“You, er, knew each other before all this happened…?” Byers asked, trying not to sound disapproving of his companions’ somewhat dubious lines of trade. “I mean… well, you both deal in the same market…”

Frohike couldn’t help but laugh, wryly thinking that Byers’ albeit enforced exit from the FCC might not be such a bad thing after all. Away from its stuffy, officious influence, he seemed a good enough kid.

A bit on the serious side, perhaps, though admittedly he didn’t have much to smile about at the moment. Or, he mused on a lighter note, maybe he was missing his traditionally governmental three piece suit – feeling a little out of sorts in Frohike’s more practical suggestion of nondescript jeans and casual sweater. But no, he could get to like this shy, serious kid. He was obviously bright, and certainly brave – his determination to help Susanne Modeski, twice risking his life to protect her, had proven that.

And at least he didn’t smart mouth him the way Langly did.

“Yeah, we go back a few years…” Frohike replied at last, favouring Byers with another mischievous grin. “And boy, could we tell you a few stories… not to mention let you in on some really neat secrets…”

“Yes, I bet you could…” Byers retorted dryly, although he too was enjoying this bantering exchange – his already broad return grin widening in child like excitement at the stunning scenery from his window. “Oh, will you look at that view…! We must be right on the edge of Chesapeake Bay…”

“Yeah, Sleeping Beauty here doesn’t know what he’s missing…” Frohike agreed, nodding towards the still blissfully oblivious Langly.

While enjoying the jibe, Byers’ smile wasn’t quite touching his eyes as he glanced across at Frohike. “Do – Do you think they’re still alive, Frohike…?” he asked softly before glancing warily around him, as though half expecting Susanne’s abductors to suddenly appear to intimidate them once more. “I – I mean, Susanne… not to mention Ken… what do you suppose has happened to them…?”

Frohike’s smile faded as he thought out his reply. He knew the most likely answers to Byers’ questions. Answers which he knew Byers wouldn’t want to hear. “Well, this guy Mulder promised he’d do whatever he could to help us…” he said with a hopeful shrug. “I mean, he was going to find us somewhere to stay until we find our feet… maybe he can help find out what happened to Susanne and your FCC buddy…” In all honesty, Frohike doubted whether the young FBI agent whom they had befriended in Baltimore, genuinely interested and keen to help as he was, could do much for Susanne Modeski or the hapless Ken. And something about the expression in Byers’ eyes suggested he felt the same way. Yet Byers still managed to smile back at him and nod in both agreement and appreciation.

“So you reckon we can trust this Mulder…?” Byers asked, uneasy again as a sudden thought struck him. “I mean… well, with him being with the FBI and everything…”

To his surprise, Frohike smiled almost proudly back at him. “Yes, Byers, I think we can…” he replied, the smile turning distinctly mischievous as he then added, “I mean, in my recent experience, not everyone linked to the Government is a total nark…”

“Thanks… I think…” Byers retorted with a somewhat rueful but still very welcome smile. Frohike grinned encouragingly back at him – both then indulging themselves to some tension breaking sight seeing as the coach gathered speed towards Washington. They had left Baltimore in fear for their lives, with so many difficult questions still to resolve.

Both just hoped that Washington would bring them some answers.



Byers, Frohike and Langly stood on a downtown Washington street corner and regarded the large, warehouse like building in front of them with, respectively, distaste, disbelief and delight.

“Hey, Frohike, looks like your map reading’s about as good as your kung fu…” Langly said at last, laughing at his long time rival’s glare of indignation as he gestured towards the near derelict before them. “I mean, you’ve got to be kidding us, right…?”

Resisting the urge to physically wipe the grin off Langly’s face, even if he had to stand on a box to do so, Frohike consulted his map for a moment then favoured his old adversary with a slightly superior smile. “Nothing wrong with either my hacking or tracking…” he shot back, taking the greatest pleasure in watching the teasing grin promptly vanish from Langly’s face. “No doubt about it, boys… this is it…” Watching a still chuckling Frohike and a no longer quite so smug Langly head down a narrow side alley, a still shellshocked Byers just shook his head then picked up his suitcases and followed them.

“This Mulder must have a sick sense of humour…” he sighed, gingerly picking his way through an makeshift obstacle course of trash cans, boxes and other discarded debris. If the exterior of the building looked shabby, the sparsely lit interior was several times more so – all three uttering various curses as shins, calves and ankles banged into unseen barriers. “Don’t suppose light switches had been invented when this place went up…” Langly muttered, narrowly avoiding a haphazardly leaning bookshelf.

Byers, following behind, wasn’t so lucky and notched up both another bruise and another curse. “Even if there were any in here, I’d rather trust your wiring than that in this place…” Frohike replied, determined to get his own back for Langly’s earlier jibe.

Before Langly could retaliate, though, an amused voice in the darkness caused all three to jump, startled. “Actually, guys, I can personally guarantee that there’s nothing wrong with the wiring…”

As proof of his point, Mulder flicked the switch beside him – watching in open amusement as Byers, Langly and Frohike all blinked, startled, in the glare of suddenly bright, hundred percent safe light.

“Jeez, Mulder, I hope you realise you’ve just scared me out of ten years’ growth…” Frohike complained, a quick glare towards Langly warning him that any wisecrack he made was likely to be his last.

Byers, however, had far more serious concerns on his mind. “Agent Mulder, have you… I mean, have you managed to find out anything about Susanne and Ken…?” Faced with such earnest anxiety, Mulder grew more dutifully serious – meeting Byers’ hopeful eyes with an apologetic shake of his head.

“Sorry, Byers, nothing yet on Dr Modeski… and your FCC buddy is still undergoing questioning…” Watching Byers’ face fall in disappointment, Mulder felt honour bound to try and restore his hopes. “But it’s early days, Byers…” he added, smiling his thanks to Frohike for his own nod of encouragement before turning back to a still crestfallen Byers. “I’ve a couple of Military Police contacts who owe me… now obviously they can’t interfere with the case itself to authorise this Ken’s release, but they should at least be able to get some news on him back to me…”

Byers nodded absently, managing a faint smile of gratitude for Mulder and Frohike for their support. Even so, he was still clearly ridden with guilt and worry over his former colleague’s plight – the despondent expression on his face again moving Mulder to try and reassure him.

“Look, Byers, believe me, he’ll be okay… I mean, once he’s released he’ll probably face a penalty fine, most likely lose his job too… but nothing worse than that…” Far from reassuring him, however, Mulder’s words only served to exacerbate Byers’ guilt.

“Oh no…” he said softly, shaking his head. “I mean, Ken was hardly the most dynamic of employees, but at least he was assured of a pay check each month… some way to support himself and his family…”

“Yeah, Byers, I know, but… well, better to lose his job than to lose his life…” Frohike said gently – surprised, as were Mulder and Langly, by the anger which now flared in Byers’ normally calm blue eyes.

“Damn it, Frohike, I’m not an idiot…! Don’t you think I know that…?” Byers demanded angrily, his guilt and helplessness over his colleague’s fate finally getting the better of him. Surprised himself by such a rare outburst, Byers winced and started to mumble an awkward apology – both surprised and relieved when a kind smile and a gentle pat on his shoulder told him he didn’t need to.

“It’s okay, kiddo, I understand…” Frohike said gently – prompted by Langly’s stifled yawn to then add, “Let’s face it, with what we’ve been through, it’s all going to catch up with us sooner or later…”

“Yeah, I reckon I could crash out right here and sleep for a week…” Langly agreed with another yawn, not knowing what intrigued him more – the looks of polite disbelief from Frohike and Byers or the mischievous grin on Fox Mulder’s face.

“I think that could be arranged…” Mulder replied, still grinning as he watched Byers, Langly and Frohike exchange slightly horrified glances.

“You mean, we’re staying here…?” Byers finally managed, staring around him with wide, uneasy eyes. “But… I - I mean, the place is a ruin… are you sure it’s safe…?”

Mulder’s grin widened before he laughed outright. Byers wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. “Believe it or not, guys, you’re in one of the safest places in Washington…” Mulder assured him, wishing he could torment them a little longer, but warned by Frohike’s furtive nod at Byers not to risk it. Instead he grew more serious as he nodded briefly around the near derelict room.

“Until recently this was a Federal witness safehouse…” he explained, pointing towards a distant doorway. “As such, it has everything you guys need… your own accommodation, fully installed kitchen and bathroom down the hall there, power supplies for heating and light… and I know this room here looks like a refuse site, but the kitchen is pretty much brand new, so it’s still real clean…”

Mulder had thought that by rattling off the building’s good points so quickly, none of them would ask the most obvious question. Unfortunately, he’d thought wrong.

“So if it made such a great safe house for you Feds, why aren’t you still using it…?” Langly asked – enjoying the expression of sheepish discomfort which now settled on Mulder’s face.

“We, uh… that is, our lease and property section kind of misjudged the budget…” Mulder said at last, developing a sudden interest in the state of the floor.

The reaction was just as he’d expected – a moment of incredulity, followed by helpless laughter. Even Byers, who Mulder had hoped may at least have shown him some co Governmental empathy, was finding it hard to keep his face straight.

“Our tax dollars at work…” Langly said at last, still laughing as he glanced appraisingly around them. When he looked back at Mulder, though, his eyes were completely serious – as were his next words. “So this place is definitely safe…? I mean, you guys are sure you won’t be needing it any more…?”

“Positive…” Mulder assured him with another not quite so defensive shrug of his shoulders. “The site is totally secure… if it weren’t for FBI funding cuts and some idiot who can’t count properly, we’d still be using it ourselves… as it is, the FBI still owns it, so there’ll be no problem with rent… and since the use of former safehouses aren’t exactly top of their concerns, I can’t imagine that you’ll be bothered by anyone, so long as you don’t advertise the fact that you’re here…”

Langly and Byers, the latter especially, still looked somewhat doubtful as they continued to take in their ramshackle surroundings. Frohike, on the other hand, was smiling now, nodding his approval.

“I saw a couple of surveillance cameras in the alleyway on our way in, and one on the street corner…” he said, the one time combat photographer in him already planning possibly life saving possibilities. “Assuming they still work okay, they’ll make for good security…”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’re still operational… and in today’s climate of neighbourhood crime prevention, no one will think anything of it…” Mulder agreed, happy that one of the three at least was convinced but still feeling he had yet to convince the other two. “Well, guys, what do you say…?” he asked brightly, favouring Byers, Frohike and Langly in turn with his most persuasive, real estate agent’s grin. “I mean… well, yes, it could do with a few licks of paint, but… well, the site itself is perfectly sound…”

“And, more importantly, secure…” Frohike reminded them, unable to resist teasing them himself now as Byers and Langly remained stubbornly unconvinced and distinctly unimpressed by his reasoning. “Hey, come on, kids, didn’t either of you go to summer camp…? Where’s your sense of adventure…?”

More or less resigned now to their fates, Byers and Langly glanced at each other then sighed and shrugged their shoulders in joint submission. “Gee, Pop, we left it on the coach…” Langly retorted dryly, he and a still distinctly unenthusiastic Byers following a now greatly amused Frohike and Mulder towards the distant hallway and the horrors beyond.

In all fairness, the living quarters weren’t nearly as horrendous as Langly or Byers had imagined. Situated between a modest but surprisingly well equipped kitchen and a just as serviceable bathroom, the three single bedrooms were small but perfectly sound, aside from the inevitable layers of dirt and dust.

Byers especially was pleased with his choice of room, a shuttered but still accessible window affording him an impressive view of downtown Washington, tinted now in the final throes of a beautiful sunset.

Happy enough now to smile, Byers nodded thoughtfully while glancing once more around his room. It was a far cry from the modest apartment he’d had in Baltimore, resembling a factory more than a home. But no, Mulder and Frohike were right. Safety and security rather than aesthetics had to come first – at least for now. And that window really did have one hell of a view…

They’d need new beds, of course, and a complete overhaul on the equally second hand furniture - no way was he risking any of his best and beloved suits in that no doubt moth eaten closet. But… no, he mused, this place had potential. A couple of restful watercolours up on the wall there, and… yes, with a lick of new paint and some keepsakes he’d brought from Baltimore, he could be happy here. And, more importantly for the moment at least, safe.

Deciding that his clothes would be a lot safer in his suitcase than the closet, and prompted by the welcome aroma of brewing coffee, a now much happier Byers headed back to the kitchen. Glad to see him smiling again, Frohike greeted him with a friendly if rather smug grin.

“Got your sense of adventure back yet…?” he asked innocently, enjoying the equally wry face which Byers pulled in response.

“I think a sense of decorating would be more useful to us at the moment…” Byers replied dryly, gratefully helping himself to a most welcome mug of coffee while glancing quizzically around. “Where’s Langly and Mulder…?”

“Gone to get us something to eat…” Frohike replied, a little awkward as he sat down next to him. “You, er, are okay with Chinese take out…?”

Before Byers could reply, however, a loud gurgle from his stomach answered for him. “One way or the other, I don’t think I have much choice…” Byers retorted, commendably straight faced. In fact, he adored Chinese food and, in spite of the past few days’ upheaval, still had a healthy appetite – which, in view of the mammoth portions of food which Langly and Mulder brought back with them, was really just as well.

Regardless of four ravenous appetites, however, there was still a lot left over. One hell of a lot.

“Well, boys, one guess what we’re having for breakfast round the camp fire tomorrow…” Frohike deadpanned, amused to note that even Langly, a human waste disposal unit if ever he’d seen one, appeared to have finally met his match. Unable to resist temptation, he then grinned wickedly. “Now, who’s for dessert…?” he added innocently – neatly ducking away from the empty cartons which Langly and Byers promptly hurled at him in response.

Watching this unscheduled comedy act, Mulder was again struck by their widely differing personalities – his experience as a profiler telling him that these three, regardless of their totally different backgrounds, had the potential to become excellent allies in his latest quest.

First, of course, he had to gain their interest. Not to mention their trust.

“Do, er, any of you know what an X file is…?” he asked at last, glancing at each of them in turn. Met with three totally blank though promisingly intrigued faces, Mulder smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, well, up until yesterday neither had I…” he went on, feeling absurdly like a scout master at camp as Byers, Frohike and Langly continued to watch him, all three on tenterhooks for him to continue.

“This business with Susanne Modeski and what you told me afterwards got me to thinking… I mean, how many other conspiracies are out there…? What else are those in our own Government trying to hide from us…? How far up does this kind of cover up go…?” Warming to his subject, Mulder leaned forward – amused to note that Byers, Langly and Frohike instantly followed suit.

“So when I got back here I did some checking…” he continued, his hazel eyes bright with discovery. “And it turns out that what happened to Dr Modeski is just the tip of one enormous iceberg. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of cases that the Government don’t want anyone to pursue, everything from corn circles and who shot JFK to alien abductions and UFO landings…”

Byers, Langly and Frohike stared at each other, finding this startling bombshell as difficult to digest as that final mouthful of prawn crackers.

“And these cases… they’re all filed under X…? No other letters, just X…?” Langly said at last, voicing the disbelief of the other two.

As Mulder smiled and nodded, Frohike whistled softly. “That must be some sized computer file…” he murmured, frowning slightly as Mulder shook his head.

“Cabinets, Frohike… we’re talking cabinets here…” Mulder corrected him, still smiling as he went on, “In the time that I was down there, I found twelve cabinets, packed to the brim with unsolved cases… cases where we, the American people have been prevented from knowing the truth…”

“That was what Susanne asked us to do… expose the truth, to reach as many people as we could…” Byers replied, his voice tellingly quiet as he recalled how helplessly he had watched her abduction. Clearly frustrated by that helplessness, he glanced once more around three now decidedly grim faces. “How, though…? I mean, if these conspiracies to deny us the truth are being controlled by people with enough power to murder their own President, what chance do we have to expose them…? I mean, Susanne tried… and look what happened to her…” he concluded, sadly shaking his head.

“Yeah… I mean, look what happened when she went to the Baltimore papers…” Langly chipped in – about to continue but frowning instead as he noticed how curiously Byers was looking at him.

“Only because they found her story as difficult to believe as we first did…” Byers said slowly, his eyes brightening with new resolve as he went on to explain. “But we know the whole story… we know she was telling the truth… we can do the job instead… just as she asked us to…” It took a few moments for the penny to drop, Frohike the first to nod and smile his approval.

“You mean bypass the big boys and put out our own conspiracy bashing newspaper…?” he asked, relieved that Langly and Mulder were already adding their own nods of approval to Byers’ idea. This was just what Byers needed – a new objective in life, something that held purpose for him. Catching Byers’ eye, he winked at him and received a shy but quietly grateful smile in return.

“At least it would ensure that Susanne’s story got out…” Langly agreed, impressed himself now to cast a one time enemy a glance of genuine admiration. Unable to resist temptation entirely, he grinned. “Okay, so who round here was geeky enough to run a high school paper…?”

Not for the first time in his life, and he suspected not the last, Byers silently cursed his fair colouring – uncomfortably conscious of the fact that his face, masking beard regardless, was rapidly turning the same shade of red as his hair.

To his credit, Frohike was tactfully avoiding eye contact, trying commendably hard not to smile. Mulder and Langly, however, weren’t trying quite so hard – both dissolving into laughter at the rueful expression on Byers’ now beet red face.

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me…?” Langly chuckled, a friendly punch on Byers’ arm ridding the jibe of any offence.

Grinning too now, Byers resigned himself to his fate and raised his hands in good natured surrender – knowing from past experience that if you couldn’t beat ‘em, you joined ‘em. Deciding that he’d suffered enough, not to mention anxious not to see him discouraged from his cause, Frohike then held up a fatherly authoritative hand.

“Okay, so we put out our own newsletter to try and expose the truth, as Susanne wanted…” he said, proud to note how Langly’s hand again settled on Byers’ shoulder, in support now rather than teasing – a gesture which the suddenly subdued Byers clearly appreciated.

“Yeah, but we’re still gonna need to get funding…” Langly chipped in, glancing slyly across at Mulder. “Reckon your buddy with the cockeyed calculator could hit another wrong key on his computer and send a few thousand dollars our way…?”

Before Mulder could respond, however, Byers raised a somewhat tentative hand. “I, er, think I can help out with that…” he said quietly, wryly wondering what his gruff, straight talking father would have reacted to what his sole son and heir was about to do. Probably sent him to boot camp to knock some sense into him, he thought, fondly reflecting how his quiet, gentle mother would have vehemently protested against such an idea… again sadly aware of how much he missed her… Gradually aware of three puzzled faces around him, Byers just smiled and shrugged before he went on, “My father made sure that he invested for both myself and my mother for the proverbial rainy day… that was why I had to get to the bank before we left Baltimore to… er… well, withdraw it all…”

Frohike and Langly traded glances, wondering how many more layers there were to their new partner. He may have been a naïve, do gooding nark back at that computer fair, but, boy, was he showing a whole different side to him now…

Being the elder and, as Langly would freely agree, the more diplomatic, it was Frohike who eventually voiced the inevitable question. “What, uh, kind of investment…?” he asked gently, trying not to look or sound too mercenary.

Byers seemed to sense this, since he returned Frohike’s quizzical glance with a warm, appreciative smile. “Well, in his line of work, my father was determined to ensure that myself and my mother would be adequately provided for if… well, if the worst happened…” he said at last, shrugging his shoulders. “So he invested whatever he could out of his salary into unit trusts, maturity bonds and so on, both in my name and my mother’s. When my mother died, her trusts were reallocated to me, and…” Realising he still hadn’t answered Frohike’s question, Byers stopped short and smiled a little awkwardly at his new partners before, taking a deep breath, he finally took the plunge. “Not including our family home in Virginia, I inherited just over three hundred thousand dollars… all of which I withdrew, both in cash and in bonds, before we left Baltimore…”

If he’d been more cynical, Byers may have thought this was a sure fire way of making friends. After all, that amount of money could buy a lot of friendship. As it was he glanced in turn around three stunned, wide eyed faces - waiting for a more decisive reaction.

Again it was Frohike who voiced the concerns of the others. “Byers, are you sure about this…? I mean… well, that money was put aside for you for a rainy day… would your father really want you to invest it in a project like this…?” Frohike cringed, ruefully thinking his skills at diplomacy had chosen one hell of a time to desert him.

Instead of looking offended, though, Byers was smiling gently back at him while shaking his head. “Frohike, when it came to patriotism, my father could have written a whole library, let alone one book…” he replied after a slight pause, the disarming smile widening to a near mischievous grin as he added, “I mean, how else do you think I came to be named after a President…?”

Enjoying their appreciative laughter, Byers then grew a little more serious as he pursued his point. “My father brought me up to put my faith in the truth… to preserve and protect it as best I could… this might not be the way he’d have expected me to do so, but… well, I think he’d approve…”

“Yes, I’m sure he would…” Frohike agreed, casting Byers a fatherly proud smile of his own before glancing across at Mulder and Langly, who were also nodding their approval of Byers’ gesture.

“So we have the idea and the funding… and I’m sure we can bootleg the equipment from somewhere…” Langly said at last, enjoying the various reactions which that last comment brought – a nod from Frohike, pretence at convenient deafness from Mulder and rolled eyes from Byers before, still grinning, he added, “So what do we call it…?”

“Well, it’s going to be Byers’ baby…” Frohike replied, casting Byers another proud, encouraging glance. “I think it’s only fair that he should give that baby it’s name…”

Byers looked surprised for a moment, as though not expecting his idea to be accepted in the first place, let alone for him to name it too. Finally he smiled, although the smile held little in the way of humour. “You, uh, remember that creepy guy in the warehouse…?” he said at last, glancing at Frohike and Langly. “The one who threatened to shoot us…?”

“How could we forget…?” Langly replied, no longer smiling but tactful enough now not to mention that it had been Byers’ naively stubborn insistence for the truth which had so nearly cost them all their lives.

“Yeah, he said something about JFK after you challenged him…” Frohike mused, frowning slightly – Byers’ younger memory beating him to it.

“He said he’d heard it was a lone gunman who killed JFK…” Byers murmured, half to himself as he quietly mulled those words over. “A lone gunman… a lone gunman… no, the Lone Gunman…”

Then he looked up, a tentative smile widening across his face as he saw Frohike, Langly and Mulder smiling back at him, nodding their approval.

“The Lone Gunman… yeah, catchy title… I like it…” a still nodding Langly replied, even going so far as to exchange a high five with a startled but still appreciative Byers.

“Yep, has a definite conspiracy bashing ring to it…” Frohike agreed, glancing quizzically at Mulder. “What do you think, Mulder…?”

The young agent’s smile widened too, if a little ruefully. “I think anyone out there with something to hide had better start running now…” he replied dryly – the first though to offer Byers a congratulatory handshake and some highly prophetic words of wisdom. “Congratulations, Pop… something tells me your baby is going to cause quite a stir as it grows up…”

“Yeah, her two uncles will see to that… and just wait till our little girl starts dating…” Frohike retorted, unable to hide a grin as Mulder winced in pre-emptive realisation.

“I think I’ve just helped to create a monster…” Mulder groaned, though he was grinning as he said it.

“Ah, spoken like a true, mad scientist…” Frohike chuckled, trading a sly glance with Byers before he turned back to favour Mulder with a dangerously mischievous grin. “On behalf of the Lone Gunmen, welcome to the dark side…”

Understandably puzzled by both glance and grin, Mulder looked across at Byers for guidance – then saw the near helpless look on Byers’ face and wryly decided he’d sleep a lot better that night if he didn’t know the cause behind it… Besides, he had a busy day tomorrow. A hard earned weekend free, where the most pressing issue would be which basketball game to watch on TV.

The newly formed Lone Gunmen were in for a busy day too. Only two of them didn’t know it yet.

Still in mischievous mood, Frohike beamed at his new cohorts in conspiracy while refilling their mugs with fresh coffee. “Well, boys, tonight we celebrate the birth of our new baby…” he announced, pausing for effect before gesturing towards the piles of debris around them. “Tomorrow, we clear out the nursery…”

Byers, needless to say, took this disagreeable prospect in his usual agreeable stride. Langly, however, couldn’t help but lodge a light hearted protest. “Cue the credits for Mission Impossible…” he muttered, clearly not enamoured by this particular mission. Always more of a rebel, Langly then shot a pointedly peeved glare towards a now laughing Mulder. “Hey, Mulder, honorary uncles get to hurl furniture too…”

Caught cold, a no longer laughing Mulder stared at each Gunman in turn, trying to work out when he’d even asked to be made an honorary uncle in the first place.

“Yeah, Mulder, look on it as alternative FBI fitness program…” Frohike chipped in, grinning wickedly as Mulder continued to flounder for a remotely believable excuse to put his honorary uncleship on hold.

Recovering himself with well honed speed, Mulder then grinned just as wickedly back at them. “Sorry, boys, not this weekend… well, not Saturday at least… yeah, I’ve, uh, got some spring cleaning of my own to see to…” he shot back, laughing again now at the understandably suspicious expressions on those boys’ faces.

Then Frohike smiled – and Mulder had the uneasy feeling that somehow he’d got caught in his own trap. “And you need the whole weekend to do your place…?” Frohike asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

Before Mulder could reply, however, Langly pounced on that telltale hesitation with a speed that defence lawyers would have killed for. “Yeah, even a couple of hours tomorrow night would be a help…” he grinned, adding as extra incentive, “Byers here will even treat you to another slap up dinner… won’t you, Byers…?”

“Yeah, that’s… whoa, I will…?” Byers looked understandably surprised – this was certainly news to him. Then he caught Langly’s deeply meaningful look and grinned ruefully back at a now smiling Mulder.

Jeez, this baby of his was less than an hour old, and already she was burning his pockets…

“What do you say, Mulder…? I mean, if you’re spring cleaning your place tomorrow anyway you’ll be in the mood for another day of dustin’ and paintin’ on Sunday as well… won’t you…?” Frohike said at last, glancing at Byers and a now broadly grinning Langly for support before all three directed that same significant look towards a beautifully entrapped Mulder.

Wryly thinking that three against one was just a touch unfair, Mulder shook his head in amused bewilderment. Damn it, they’d done it again ! Somewhere along the line, they’d turned the tables on him. To his surprise, Mulder then found himself laughing once more, hands raised in rueful submission. Okay, so his eagerly anticipated plans for the weekend had just been thrown clear out of the window, but something told him spending some of that time with this quirky threesome would be just as much fun. And Fox Mulder never turned down the offer of a free meal…



Come Monday morning, regardless of two days of fun, frivolity and not just one but two free meals, Fox Mulder went back to work for a rest. Having spent much of the weekend lifting and shifting several hundredweight of furniture, not to mention Frohike’s ‘kind’ offer of plenty of dustin’ and paintin’, he was aching in places he didn’t know existed. So, given the choice of yet more spring cleaning (the state of his desk caused him to physically cringe) against checking up on more of those intriguingly discarded cases, that choice had an inevitable outcome. And, although he didn’t yet know it, that choice was to change his life in ways he could never imagine.



A week later, four changed lives came full circle. Fox Mulder stood in the doorway of a basement FBI office and stared disbelievingly at the chaos within – wryly wondering if three now happily at home co conspiracy hunters would be as willing to help him clear out his new office as he had been to clear out theirs.

Safe in their now fully refurbished home, Byers, Frohike and Langly proudly watched their first baby run off the printer – that first issue dedicated with heartfelt feeling to Susanne Modeski. And elsewhere in Washington, a man turned from the window of a darkened room and regarded several other just as grim faced, soberly suited men with a thin, humourless smile.

“Well now, gentlemen…” he said at last, casually lighting yet another of his ever present cigarettes, “In the words of Jim Lovell, I believe we may have a problem…”



The End.