Disclaimer:	Frohike, Byers, and Langly are the property    
		of 1013 and FOX.  Gin is mine.  I think that   
		they can play nice together without their   
		parents' supervision.   
   
Category:	S   
Rating:		PG   
Spoilers:	none   
Keywords:	Pre XF.  Lone Gunmen.   
Summary:	Another version of how our current trio   
		may have met.    
   
   
Author's Note:  Do you remember those singles that used to   
come out with the main song on Side A and a reprised version   
on Side B?  It was basically the same song - one would usually   
be a vocal version and the other an instrumental.  For present   
day references, think of the electric versus acoustic versions   
of Eric Clapton's Layla and The Eagles' Hotel California.   
Same song, different interpretations and presentations.  That   
is what I have done with the two versions of Prelude to   
Weirdness.     
   
Prelude To Weirdness II
by Martha
marthalgm@yahoo.com   
   
   
Tuesday before Thanksgiving, November, 1988   
   
Frohike hurried from the airport parking lot to the baggage   
claim area.   He was running late and did not want to keep her   
waiting.   
   
His sister, Ginny, was coming home for Thanksgiving.  He had   
not seen her in over three years, not since she had taken that   
teaching position in Colorado.  They had kept in touch,   
sporadically, over that time, but it would be nice to have her   
at home for a few days.   
   
He headed for the carousels, weaving around the holiday   
traffic and family reunions.  He hated crowds.  Sometimes,   
they were good for covering your tracks and getting lost in,   
but mainly he hated the noise.  All those people, each with   
their own vocal contributions to the environment.  He just   
wanted to climb on top of something and yell, "Shut Up!".  His   
ears were beginning to ring.   
   
He spotted her standing some distance from the crowd that was   
waiting for their luggage.  Ginny was wearing one of those   
oversized heavy sweaters with a long, gauzy skirt.  Teaching   
must be bringing out the best in her, Frohike thought;  she   
used to live in jeans.  She seemed to be watching the crowd   
and did not notice him as he approached.   
   
"Hey, there, how ya doing?" Gin said as she hugged her brother   
tightly and then held him at arms length to look him over.   
"Weren't you wearing the EXACT same thing when I left?"   
   
"Probably."  There was something different about her, but he   
could not quite put his finger on it.  She just looked . . .   
happy.  She had always been a somewhat private person -   
perhaps being away and living her own life had helped her ease   
into an adulthood a lot less awkward than her adolescence had   
been.  Frohike looked down at her overnight case.  "Let's go.   
Is this all that you brought with you?"   
   
"Not exactly."  Gin took his arm and her case and led him a   
few more yards away from the crowd and the noise.  "Listen, I   
have something to tell you."  She put down the bag and looked   
over his shoulder at the other passengers at the carousels.   
"I'm not sure how to put this, but I didn't want to spring   
this on you over the phone."  She grit her teeth and scrunched   
her nose like she used to when she was thinking of how to word   
her sentences.  "Well, I'm just going to say it.  Look," she   
said as she held up her left hand and fingered the gold band,   
"I got married."   
   
You could have knocked Frohike over with a feather.  Married?   
This from the little girl who used to declare that boys were   
icky and stupid?  This from the woman who used to throw books   
across the room after job interviews, convinced that she   
wasn't being offered the lecturing positions simply because   
she lacked a penis?  From that same woman who decided to leave   
the East Coast Boys Club Territory and head for the hills   
where (she thought) the testosterone counts diminished with   
each passing foot above sea level?  Someone actually MARRIED   
my SISTER??   
   
"Congratulations," he finally blurted out.  "I'm in shock.   
You never mentioned . . . This was . . . sudden."  It had   
never occurred to him to consider his sister as a sexual   
being.  Apparently, someone else thought differently.  She had   
never been what one might think of as pretty.  Plain was the   
kindest description that came to his mind.  And, he added,   
that ran like rabbits in their family.  So this was the reason   
for the change.   
   
"Well, I didn't want to say anything until it was more   
serious, and then the last couple of months just kind of   
caught up with me, and I wanted to call last month afterwards,   
but I knew we'd be coming here, so I decided to wait . . ."   
Gin was getting hyper, and her heart was beating so fast, she   
thought she'd faint.  She had that same feeling when the man   
she eventually married first asked her out - now she was   
calmly trying to explain all her feelings to her brother and   
failing miserably.  "I don't know what came over me.  When I   
first met him, I just KNEW, even though I kept thinking that I   
just CAN'T . . ."   
   
Frohike grasped her hands in an effort to help quiet her   
before she talked herself into a breathing spasm.  "But you're   
happy, right?"   
   
Gin sighed and met her brother's questioning gaze.  "Yes, I   
am.  It's an odd feeling, for me, but I really am happy."   
   
"Good, so where is he?"   
   
Gin put her hands on Frohike's shoulders to turn him around.   
She pointed a finger towards the middle carousel.  "You see   
that jacket with the beard.  That's him."   
   
Frohike examined his new brother-in-law as he was gathering a   
suitcase.  Tall, probably about six foot, faded jeans, white   
shirt, and a black tweed jacket.  Brownish hair with a neatly   
trimmed beard.  "He looks . . . normal.  Ouch!"  He felt a   
sharp pain in his side, provided by his sister's elbowing him   
in the ribs.  "Hey, that hurt."   
   
"Good, it was supposed to."   
   
She used to be such a quiet, pleasant child, Frohike thought.   
He put his arm around her shoulder.  "So tell me, is he   
another professor in your department?"   
   
"Hmmmm, not exactly.  Although he does have potential."   
   
Frohike looked at her slyly smiling face.  "What do you mean   
by 'not exactly'?"   
   
Gin wrapped her arms around his waist and met his gaze.   
"Actually, he was one of my students."   
   
Frohike's jaw slackened.  He lowered his face, peering over   
his glasses at her, giving what she used to describe as his   
'you must be shitting me' look.  Gin, who was clearly   
delighted in the reaction that she was generating, perfectly   
mimicked him back.   
   
"Don't look at me that way.  I didn't rob the cradle or   
anything," Gin explained.  "The beard does make him look   
older, but he's not that young.  I was teaching a mixed class   
of grads and undergrads.  After he finished his master's work   
last spring, we decided we could be more open about it.  And   
he's the one who asked me out, not the other way around."  She   
searched for her new husband among the crowd and waived to   
him.  He began to pick up the luggage to meet them.   
   
"Actually," Gin began, "the two of you have a lot in common.   
I think that's why I noticed him in the first place.  Come   
on," she said as she linked arms with him, "I'll introduce   
you."   
   
Frohike allowed himself to be led through the crowd. "Did you   
at least give him an A?"   
   
"Oh, yeah," Gin sighed.  "And he DESERVED it."   
   
-------------------------------------------------------------   
   
Day before Thanksgiving, November 1988   
   
Gin sleepily walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.   
It was almost 10 o'clock in the morning - she had not slept   
that late in recent months.  Between classes and papers, she   
was usually in her office by 7:30 and spent most afternoons   
and evenings at the library.  Throw in her marriage, and she   
felt like she had been crossing a footbridge over a deep gorge   
and was wondering what would keep her from going over the   
side.  Yesterday's flight into DC with the time difference   
from Colorado had disoriented her, but she looked forward to   
spending a week away from her students and her publishing   
deadlines.     
   
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee greeted her as she rounded   
the corner into the kitchen.  She should have known;  there at   
the small table in the corner sat her husband, reading the   
paper.  He had always been an early riser, much to her dismay.   
But he was quite self-sufficient, and his ability to figure   
out an automatic coffee maker was one of his better features.   
   
Gin poured herself a cup and looked around for the sugar.   
"Good morning, Mr Byers," reverting to her standard greeting   
for her students.   
   
"Don't you think that you can drop the 'Mr' part by now?"   
   
"OK, . . . Byers."  She had always been concerned about the   
appearance of their relationship to the rest of the   
department.  True, he did not ask her out until several weeks   
after their class ended, and she had even managed to politely   
refuse those first few invitations.  But he was persistent.   
And when it appeared likely that she would never again be in a   
position to be his instructor, she accepted a movie date.   
   
After a semester of movies and late-night tea at a cafe not   
usually frequented by college personnel, she discovered that   
she was quite taken with this man and his quiet ways.  He   
agreed to be discreet about his intentions towards her while   
on campus, and she agreed to overlook their five-year age   
difference.  But she had always referred to him as 'Mr Byers'   
almost exclusively during that year, partly out of habit but   
mostly out of fear of revealing their friendship.  Gin had   
been trying to have several articles accepted for publication   
and did not want to have any departmental roadblocks suddenly   
arise from a character issue.   
   
And she could truthfully state, had anyone asked, that nothing   
more than a few kisses had passed between them during that   
time.  Until this past May, when he showed up unexpectedly at   
her apartment late in the afternoon with the news that he had   
passed his comprehensive exams and that his master's thesis   
had been accepted by his advisor.  Their relief that he was no   
longer a current student lasted well into that evening.  But   
she never quite got out of the habit of referring to him by   
his last name.   
   
After adding sugar and milk, Gin sat across from him at the   
table.  "How late did the two of you stay up?"  She had gone   
to bed by midnight, leaving Byers and her brother comparing   
interpretations of the Warren Commission Report.   
   
Byers lowered the paper.  "It was at least two AM."   
   
"Did you get around to solving any of the world's problems?"   
   
"No, he still wouldn't concede that Ford was given his   
Minority Leader position as a reward for covering up for the   
CIA."   
   
Gin sat quietly and shook her head.  Byers believed that the   
assassination of JFK originated from inside the government   
while Frohike swore that the Mafia had ordered the hit.  She   
had heard all these arguments before, from her brother during   
her college years and most recently from Byers during his   
studies.  Her distrust of the federal government did not run   
that deep, preferring to use verifiable facts and statistical   
data to reach her conclusions.   
   
From the other side of the apartment, the other bedroom door   
opened and out dragged Frohike, barefoot and in jeans.   
Noticing the coffee, he remarked, "Great, someone got around   
to fixing the coffee maker," and began to pour himself a cup.   
   
"Plugging it in usually works," came the reply from behind the   
newspaper.   
   
"So we have a mechanical genius in the family now.  So what   
else is he good at?"   
   
Frohike's comment was greeted by silence.  As he turned around   
towards the couple at the table, he noted that his sister was   
staring straight into her cup of coffee, desperately trying   
not to break out in laughter.  Frohike sighed and shook his   
head.  "I meant in the kitchen."   
   
"Oh, yeah," Gin whispered somewhat to herself, "there, too."   
   
Exasperated, Frohike left to take a shower, leaving behind a   
somewhat embarrassed brother-in-law and his giggling sister.   
Jesus, he thought, newlyweds.   
   
end of part one

 ------------------------------------------------------------   
   
After showering and dressing, Frohike returned to the kitchen.   
Both Gin and Byers were still reading the paper.   
   
Frohike joined them at the table.  "So, should either one of   
us attempt to cook this holiday feast or should we just go   
out?"   
   
Gin replied, "I thought we'd go shop and pick up a few things.   
For tomorrow and for you.  Your fridge is really bare."   
   
"I'm not here that much, and it's just easier to do take-out.   
Does this new domesticity mean that you've become acquainted   
with a stove?"   
   
"Not hardly," Byers joined in. "I somethimes get the feeling   
that the only reason that she married me was because I feed   
her.  Her culinary talents lie more in line with opening soup   
cans."   
   
"Nothing really changes, does it?" Frohike teased.  "Why don't   
you two come down to the offices later and have a look around   
the place?  I might even put you to work on a few things."  He   
gathered some notebooks and headed for the front door.   
   
"We'll drop by," said Gin, "but I've done my tour of duty.   
I'm here to vege for a few days."   
   
Frohike left, and Byers got up to take the empty coffee cups   
to the sink.  Something about her brother's last statement and   
Byers' silence bothered Gin.  "He wasn't talking to me, was   
he?"   
   
"There's plenty of time to discuss it," he replied, as he   
turned on the faucet.     
   
"Start now."   
   
Something in the tone of Gin's voice made him turn off the   
water and turn around.  Leaning back on the edge of the sink   
and crossing his arms, he met the glowering stare of his wife.   
It was at this moment that he noticed a similarity between the   
brother and sister.  It had bothered him last night, and now   
he saw it.  The eyes, the glasses and the eyes.  "Yes, he   
asked if I might be interested in doing some work for him.  I   
said that I had to think about it and talk it over with you."   
   
"Good answer.  What about school?  Or, more to the point,   
what about us?"   
   
"You've been looking for a new position, and you said that you   
wanted to come back to this area.  If you found something   
close by, things would work out."   
   
He was right;  she had wanted to move back East, back to where   
she grew up.  That's why she was so eager to finish her papers   
and be published, so that she would have a bit more to put on   
her resume.  She had gotten somewhat homesick and believed   
that Colorado was just much too clean for her.  She began to   
miss the little dramas unfolding in the nation's capital and   
being so far away from that center of action left her wanting   
more than what was covered in the local newspapers.  She   
wanted the background, the gossip, the never-ending cast of   
characters that got her so interested in the field of   
political history in the first place.     
   
Gin had a few worried thoughts about mixing up Byers with this   
kind of life.  She had never gone into too much detail about   
her brother's work or the extent of her involvement in it.   
"Do you understand, I mean really understand, what working   
with him would be like?  It's not just looking things up and   
presenting a working theory.  It sometimes involves doing   
things and being places that aren't exactly legal."   
   
Byers uncrossed his arms and braced himself against the sink.   
"This is all very interesting, but you used to do this.  It   
can't have been that dangerous."   
   
Gin rolled her eyes in amazement at that last statement.   
"There are things that I've done . . . that I won't mention,   
only because they were violations of National Security and   
quite frankly, have nothing to do with who I am now."  She   
couldn't believe that he thought that this would be some sort   
of child's play.  More than likely, though, her brother did   
not present all the possibilities.  "Are you prepared to have   
your name on file with the FBI?  You stick around long enough,   
it's going to happen."   
   
Byers' imagination gave way to thoughts of arrest and threats   
to his life.  This is not what he was led to believe about   
Frohike's work.  "How can you be so sure that the FBI has a   
file on you?"   
   
"Let's just say that I know someone who can see those files   
whenever he wants."   
   
"How?"   
   
"You don't want to know."  Gin knew she was placing more   
emphasis on the negative aspects and playing up to his fear of   
chaos, but she didn't want to lie to him.  "Listen, a good   
deal of what goes on down there is extremely uneventful and   
tedious work.  But every now and then, they get caught up in   
something that isn't exactly safe.  You'll have to be prepared   
to deal with that.  And only you can determine if you're ready   
for it."   
   
"I thought that it was odd that he asked me to work with him   
after only meeting me a few hours beforehand."   
   
"Well, I have no doubt as to what he's doing right now.  He's   
checking up on you.  Anything from your past that you haven't   
told me yet?  His sources will find these things so you better   
tell me now."   
   
"No, you know everything . . . almost.  And besides, you're my   
best character reference.  That should count for something."   
   
"Don't bet on it, Byers."  Gin grimaced when she thought of   
how unmercifully her brother had teased her in the past about   
boys.  But apparently Byers had impressed him enough in a   
short amount of time to invite him to join in his work.  Maybe   
he sees the same things in Byers that I saw that first time,   
she thought.  Well, not the exact same things but . . .   
   
Gin got up from the table.  "Come on.  We have some errands to   
run.  And then I'll take you down there and show you around.   
So you have some idea of what you'll be getting into if you   
should so decide."   
   
-------------------------------------------------------------   
   
"Jesus H Christ, what in the hell has happened down here?"   
   
Gin's screaming brought several staffers to the main office   
area where she stood facing a wall of cabinets and shelving.   
She stared in disbelief at the disarray of papers and books,   
piled haphazardly on top of one another.  Dozens of folders   
and pictures lay in unmarked boxes on the floor.  She turned   
to Frohike.  "When are you going to get around to putting this   
stuff in order?  How can you find anything?"   
   
Frohike removed several books from the chairs in order to make   
room for the new arrivals and carried them to a larger table   
across the room.  "We've been busy.  Things will slow down   
over the holidays, and I can get things cleaned up.  Not   
everyone is as anal as you are."   
   
Frohike heard a quick "Duck!", and he hit the deck behind the   
table.  A book sailed through the air where he had once stood   
and landed at his feet.  He pulled himself up and peered over   
the tabletop, making sure that the coast was clear.  He   
glanced over at Byers.  "Thanks for the warning.  Does she   
still do this at home?"   
   
"Uh, uh.  Pillows.  Ground rules.  We only use pillows."   
   
"Wise choice."  Frohike hesitantly stood up and was glad that   
his reflexes were still in working order.  He had not had to   
move that fast, well, since the last time he made a smartass   
remark to his sister and, damn it, her aim was still good.   
   
Gin began straightening the books behind her.  "Then you won't   
mind if I make a start here?  And then two of you can go and   
have your little talk."   
   
Frohike shot a glance at Byers.  So, the two of them had   
already discussed it.  If Gin objected, this could be a really   
short talk and a very long weekend.  He motioned to Byers to   
follow him out to the hallway.   
   
The two of them toured the offices, with Frohike pointing out   
what the others were working on and asking Byers for his   
thoughts on the various subjects.  He had already decided that   
Byers would be a great asset to the team, judging from his   
background check.  A double major in political science and   
history for his undergraduate work and a multi-disciplinary   
studies field for his master's, specializing in the   
socio-political history of the United States in the 1960s.  No   
arrests, no fingerprints on file, and no black marks on a   
credit check.  His father ran a sporting goods store back in   
Colorado but was now retired, and his mother was still a   
librarian for the local school district.  If he had let his   
mind wander, Frohike would have wondered as to how these two   
sedate gene pattern codes could have produced the individual   
standing next to him.  But then he and Gin had what should   
have been considered a normal childhood and, well, look how   
they turned out.   
   
As they headed back towards the main office area, loud music   
began screeching from behind a closed door at the end of the   
hall.  They both turned around, with Byers asking, "What the   
hell is that noise?"   
   
"Actually, that noise is . . . Def Leppard.  Pyromania, if I'm   
not mistaken."   
   
The door opened, and guitars and bass notes spilled into the   
hallway.  A tall man with longish blonde hair bounded out of   
the room towards them, holding several computer disks.   
   
"Got it, got it.  Finally!  Decoded and no bugs."  As he   
handed Frohike the disks, Byers noticed that the third man   
looked a lot younger upon examination, though it was hard to   
get a good look at him with his bangs nearly obscuring his   
face.  "Oops, sorry, didn't mean to interrupt.  And . . .   
gotta run.  Left some things cooking on the stove."   
   
The two of them stared at the blonde energy force as it made   
its way back into the little room at the end of the hall and   
jumped slightly at the slamming of the door.  After a slight   
pause, Frohike offered, "When his blood sugar level drops a   
bit, I'll properly introduce you to Langly."  They continued   
towards the main office area.  "He started hanging around   
several years ago, when his brother was here.  The brother   
only lasted a few months, but Langly never left."   
   
They returned to find Gin making some order of the unfiled   
manila folders.  She glanced up at the two.  Even knowing how   
different they were in many ways, she realized that a   
partnership between her brother and her husband was   
inevitable.  They just had that look, like their minds could   
work in tandem.  She'd love to discourage Byers from settling   
into this world, but truth be told, she'd still be doing it if   
she hadn't felt the need to put some distance between herself   
and her growing dependency on her brother.  Gin just hoped   
that she wouldn't lose him completely to this lifestyle;  she   
was more than aware as to how time could swallow you up doing   
this kind of work.   
   
Gin watched for any giveaway signs as to Byers' choice as he   
made his way towards her.  She waited to say anything until he   
was standing next to her and even then could only barely   
speak.  "So?"   
   
Byers lowered face until he was just a few inches away from   
her own.  "We should talk . . . at the apartment."   
   
"All right."  She thought - no, she knew - that he wants to   
stay.  The two of them walked, hand in hand, towards the front   
door.   
   
"We'll see you back at your place later, OK?  I've got a   
turkey to defrost," Byers said to Frohike and then added,   
"there'll be plenty of food, if you want to have any other   
strays over."   
   
"I'll ask."  Frohike made sure that the door was secured   
behind them.  He smiled to himself and thought, "This could   
get real interesting," as he made his way back inside the   
offices.   
   
end of part two


"That's why we like you, Mulder; your ideas are weirder than ours."   
The Lone Gunmen