From: bellefleur Date: Sat, 24 Feb 2007 00:32:10 -0800 (PST) Subject: Crimsonlocks and the Three Confreres by bellefleur Source: direct TITLE: Crimsonlocks and the Three Confreres AUTHOR: bellefleur EMAIL ADDRESS: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: sure RATING: PG-13 CLASSIFICATION: V SPOILERS: Season 6 DISCLAIMER: Not mine; they belong to CC, FOX, etc. SUMMARY: The title says it all. Notes: I cannot be held responsible for my actions. Really. Someone planted the idea in my head, and the muse held me hostage until I finished this. * * * Once upon a time there were three Gunmen, who lived together in a converted warehouse at an address that cannot be disclosed or all readers of this story would have to be terminated. One of them was a short little Gunman, one was a slightly taller Gunman but with slightly longer hair, and the other was a very well dressed Gunman. One day, after they had made huevos rancheros for breakfast and served it onto their plates, they got a call from an informant and had to rush out the door (but the identity of the informant cannot be revealed, or the readers of this story would have to be thrown into a deep, dark missile silo in North Dakota). And while they were out, a female FBI agent named Scully, who sometimes goes by Dana, but never Red, stopped by their lair. First, she knocked on the door, looking rather impatiently into the security camera and telling them to hurry their asses up before she kicked them all the way from here to Las Vegas. Realizing they weren't home, or were just too chicken to come to the door, she let herself in. The door was locked securely, but not like Fort Knox, and Scully, being a talented federal agent, and one not very concerned about breaking and entering, picked her way through the locks in no time at all. When Scully entered the drab warehouse-cum-secret government watchdog agency, she saw that the Gunmen were not at home but that they had politely left out breakfast for her. Had she been a patient Special Agent, she might have waited for them to join her, but she felt they still owed her, and her tummy was now rumbling. So, she set about helping herself. First, she tasted the huevos rancheros of the well-dressed Gunman, but that was too bland. Next, she tasted the huevos rancheros of the Gunman with the long hair, but that had too much hot sauce. And then she tasted the huevos rancheros of the short little Gunman; it was just right, so she ate it all up. Then the Enigmatic Dr. Scully, who was feeling quite sated and slightly less like kicking their asses, decided to sit around and wait for them to return. First, she sat in front of the computer belonging to the well-dressed Gunman, but his stool was cold and metallic and reminded her of an autopsy bay or a lab on an alien spaceship (not that she'd ever been in one). Next, she sat at the computer belonging to the Gunman with the golden locks, but it was a ratty old barstool and her feet were left dangling far above the ground. Then, she sat in front of the computer of the short little Gunman; his chair was soft and comfortable, and her feet even reached the floor. So she settled in there and decided to bide her time by changing the screensaver from Miss February to a Chippendales dancer, but the computer made a horrid screeching sound when she put in the wrong password, so she left the vicinity as quickly as possible. Now, with a full tummy and nothing interesting to do while she waited, Scully was feeling quite sleepy and decided to take a little nap. First, she tried the bed of the well- dressed Gunman, but the sheets smelled like bleach and the mattress felt like a slab of granite. Next, she checked out the bed of the Gunman with the long hair (but not in an effeminate way), but the rumpled sheets looked like they hadn't been changed in months, and the mattress sagged in the middle. Then, she tried the bed of the diminutive Gunman; the mattress was soft but firm with clean sheets (she suspected he made a mess of them on a regular basis and so had to keep changing them, just like her partner-- but she didn't think her partner bothered to change the sheets), so she decided to lie down and rest her eyes until the three came home. And she fell fast asleep. By this time the three Gunmen had realized that their source was a no-show, so they came home to finish their breakfast. Now Scully had only fastened nine of the locks behind her, forgetting the tenth, so the Gunmen, always paranoid that the Men in Black were coming to get them, suspected immediately that someone had been there. Their suspicions were soon confirmed when they looked at their meal. "Somebody's been eating my huevos rancheros!" exclaimed the well-dressed Gunman (but he didn't raise his voice because he's not really that excitable). The Gunman with the blond tresses looked at his plate and said, "Dude, somebody's been scarfing mine too." Then the wee little Gunman (but more little than wee) saw that his plate was completely empty and said, "I'm not making any more of that. You guys are gonna have to share." Now the three Gunmen realized that someone certainly had been in their lair, which was protected by a state of the art security system (if only they had remembered to turn it on before they left), and they began to look around for anything else that had been disturbed. "Somebody's been sitting at my computer!" declared the neatly attired Gunman. Having noticed that his stool had also been moved, the long-haired Gunman said, "Dude, somebody's been sitting at mine too. Good thing I installed that Langly2000 anti- hacking software." Then the short little Gunman saw that his computer was counting down in self-destruct mode. "Langly, you didn't tell me about this feature--how do you shut this thing off!" "Uh..." By now, the well-dressed Gunman was checking out the bedrooms. He noticed a wrinkle on his comforter. "Someone's been lying on my bed!" The other two Gunmen rushed to check out their rooms too. "Dude--my bed looks just the same as I left it," said the Gunman in need of a haircut. Then the undersized Gunman proclaimed, "There is a God!" For in his bed lay exactly what he'd been praying for every night for the last six years (but in a very sacrilegious way). Now, Special Agent Scully, who the short little Gunman thought was hot, was not the least disturbed by the three of them talking loudly in the doorway, for she could fall asleep anywhere and could be wakened only by 3 a.m. phone calls from her partner or those impersonating him. So they let her sleep, contentedly drooling on Frohike's pillow, and returned to their huevos rancheros. For they knew full well that she would kick their asses once she woke up. THE END * * * More notes: Blame can be assessed to purringkitti23 at the Haven for suggesting/requesting a story where Scully is found sleeping at the Gunmens'. A certain fairy tale came to mind, and I just couldn't help myself. Apologies to Flora Annie Steel, whose version of "The Story of the Three Bears" this is loosely (very loosely) based upon. Feedback can be sent to: bellefleur1013@yahoo.com Stories with more redeeming value can be found at: http://www.geocities.com/bellefleur1013