From: dlynn1550@my-deja.com Date: 6 Dec 1999 05:40:10 -0000 Subject: xfc: NEW: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 1 by dlynn Source: xfc From: dlynn1550@my-deja.com TITLE: A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 1 AUTHOR: Dlynn RATING: PG DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere but I'd appreciate being notified so that I would know where it is. My brother, in Ohio, might want to visit. FEEDBACK: dlynn1550@my-deja.com SPOILERS: You need to have read "A Moose and Squirrel Christmas" for this to make any sense. You can find that story at ephem. SUMMARY: This very short vignette follows Moose and Squirrel on the same day. AUTHOR'S NOTES: After several people asked that I follow up Moose and Squirrel, I decided to write a couple of epilogues. This is the first. DISCLAIMOR: I do not own Mulder, Scully, The lonegunmen, or anything else pertaining to the x-files. I realize that all things x belong to Fox, Chris Carter and 1014 productions. A Moose and Squirrel Christmas: Epilogue 1 CLICK! SNAP! CLICK! "Out of my way Frohike! Where is he?" Mulder bellowed, pushing his way into the gunman's lair as soon as the last lock snapped open. "Where is that lame excuse for a Woodstock reject! "Glad to see you, too," Frohike mumbled as Mulder's shove sent him careening off balance into Byer's, sitting at a computer terminal. "Watch it Frohike! It took me an hour to get into this site," groused Byers. "Hey, I'm not the one with the lousy social manners. Talk to Mulder. He's the one with a bur up." Langley, where the hell are you?" Mulder shouted, poking his head into various empty rooms. Byers, typing furiously at his keyboard, shouted over his shoulder, "He's not here!" Mulder stopped mid-stride, his hand poised at the doorknob of another room. If Frohike had said that, he'd probably have continued his search. But, Byers, God he was such an open book. He couldn't even play passable poker because it just wasn't in him to bluff. The few times he'd helped with covert operations, like Mulder's impromptu hospital break to Antarctica, Byer's had been a basket case. It was fortuitous all he'd had to do was lie in the hospital bed that day. Apparently, his skin had taken on such a frightening grayish pallor, Skinner had thought he'd passed out. "So, where'd the scrungy beatnik get to anyway? I told him I'd find him. I'm going to lop off his goldy locks," Mulder griped, sitting in the vacant seat next to Byers. Without missing a keystroke, Byers said, "So, Mulder, I hear I missed a "classic" day at the mall today." "Oh, Yeah.. Classic," moaned Frohike. "Hickey, get it out of the gutter." "Oh, but, Mulder, it was sooooo good. Dr. Scully can give me another tonsillectomy, anytime." "If you don't lay off. You'll be seeing her again in her professional capacity--- the morgue's got all these little drawers, especially sized for trolls like you." With Mulder still seated, Frohike was able to look him directly in the eye. Jabbing his finger, into Mulder's chest, he said, "Hey, you got problems with Langley, you take it out on Langley. Leave me, and the delicious, Agent Scully, out of your vengeful tirades." Looking back to the locked door, Frohike asked, "Where's the lovely, 'Dana', anyway?" "I dropped her home," Mulder admitted, beginning to calm down. Letting the screensaver take over, Byer's swirled his chair around so he could face his friends. "What's got you so upset with Langley anyway? From what I hear, he only forced you to ante up." Mulder grimaced, "Due to Langley's compunction for the truth, I had to sing "Blue Christmas" during the food court's dinner rush. That's not exactly doing a friend a favor." "No, but I call setting the stage for a little holiday nookie, a favor, man," came a voice from the open front door. Langley stepped inside, his arms full of Chinese take- out. "You oughtta be writing sonnets to me, old buddy. I sure didn't hear any complaints coming from you while you and Agent Scully sucked face." Coffee sputtered from a startled Byer's. Frohike emitted a long wolf whistle, chanting, "Who's the man, who's the man!" And, Mulder, brought his startled eyes up to a grinning Langley. Noting Langley's head moving slowly side to side, Mulder realized Langley hadn't told his fellow cohorts about he and Scully's spontaneous lip-lock. He had respected their privacy. Mulder, on the other hand, might as well have taken out a billboard in Times Square. "Uh.guys." "So, Mulder, give it up, already. Did you enjoy your holiday cheer?" inquired Langley, putting the steaming white boxes down on the table. "Big lug!" Frohike walked over to Mulder, giving his arm a good-natured whack. "I'm deeply offended. She's stepping out on me already. What would she want with a tall, dark, drink of water like you when she could have a compact, raging dynamo, like me?" "Frohike, I am not going to stand here one-upping each other with 'I've kissed Scully stories'. This is beyond juvenile." "Afraid you'll come out on the short end, huh?" Frohike said, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and a box of cashew chicken. Byers, joining the others at the table, grabbed his own set of chopsticks. He looked pensive, like he had found himself in the middle of a story and was trying to get caught up. The fact that Scully had been sitting on Frohike's lap and kissed him was startling enough to wrap his brain around. But, that was a bad joke, gone "good", at least in Frohike's eyes. Catching Mulder's eyes across the table, Byers looked deeply. Beneath the obviously feigned anger at Langley and the banal banter with Frohike, Byer's saw a changed man. Silently, Byers questioned his friend, "This is good, right?" Nodding imperceptibly in return, Mulder peacefully acknowledged the truth in their non-verbal exchange. "Yes, this is very good." Straddling a chair he'd pulled out from the table, Mulder reached into the middle of the fray. "Frohike, quit hoarding the cashew chicken," Mulder said, grabbing the box out of his hands. "Geesh, Mulder, your table manners are pitiful," Frohike said, flipping his chopsticks end over end and hitting Mulder in the head. "I wouldn't damage the goods, Frohike. I think Agent Scully's got plans for him," Langley joked, snapping the top off his beer bottle. "From the look she gave him, I'd say, you'd better pass our boy some broccoli and beef, too. He's going to need his strength." Standing, Frohike raised his beer bottle in the air. Seeing his demeanor, the others looked questioningly at each other. What was he up to? "Life 'em high, gents. I propose a toast." Byers, Langley and eventually, Mulder, all raised their bottles. With a seriousness, that belied their previous bantering, Frohike began his toast. "To Agent's Mulder and Scully. It's about time." With the sounds of clinking glass and hearty echoes of "about time" ringing in his ears, Mulder wondered, "What was Scully doing right now?"