TIMOROUS

Timorous is written by Ridgley Warfield. All rights to this fan fiction belong to me. The X-Files are a licensed production of the FOX company and I do not own the characters in this plot. This story is completely fiction, thought up in my own mind, and is in no way true. This is badly written and really cheesy, however, do enjoy.

“Byers get outta there!” Frohike’s impatient warnings had long since turned to demanding snarls as time ticked away.

“Langly, where am I?” I spoke into the mouthpiece of the headset, which connected me to the tall, lanky blonde man, who was monitoring my movements and whereabouts in the off-limits high-tech research facility we’d broken into.

“You’re in J-7…go left, go left!” He quickly instructed. I followed his commands blindly, wiping the sweat from my brow and casting a glare at him through the camera mounted on the wall.

“How much time?” Langly had come across an unusual pattern on his computer when bypassing the locks and had ended up tripping a self-destruct bomb. Now I was lost in a maze of hallways, counting on him to get me out before the place blew with me inside.

“45 seconds, hurry up Byers. Go right at the end of the hall.” I could tell he was as frantic as Frohike, which was doing nothing for my nerves. I saw another door at the hall intersection.

“That door better be open by the time I get there, Langly.” I grumbled as I jogged down the hall.

“I’m working on it now,” I could hear his fingers pounding commands on the computer keyboard, then a startling pause, a muttered curse and faster typing. I slowed to a walk, staring at the locked door before me.

“Langly, this isn’t funny.”

“I can’t bypass it…the system must have crashed when I tripped the bomb.” His voice was that of utter shock and fear.

“What?!” I pushed on the door, jiggling the handle in disbelief. “Come on, Langly, open the door!”

“I’m trying!” My heart pounded as fast as his fingers.

“15 seconds, Langly! Byers, try breaking the glass!” Frohike commanded. I hit, slammed and kicked the glass to no avail and finally faced the facts.

“Shit.” I stated plainly.

“There’s no time now…Byers, listen, curl up into a tight ball in a corner. It’ll help protect you. We’ll get you out of there as soon as we can.” Frohike’s tone was that of defeat, but his last words gave me hope.

“5 seconds.” Langly whispered distressed.

“Langly, I don’t blame you.” It was the last thing we heard before the blast. We never expected this to happen. When Langly tripped that bomb, we all knew that was the end. Poor kid. He’s the best damn hacker I know, but even he didn’t see that one. None of us did.

As soon as the building blew, Langly was rushing towards Byers location, digging through the rubble. I looked at his face as we pulled away the debris and was shocked to find tears wetting our youngest gunman’s cheeks. Byers was unconscious, burned and battered when we found him, but miraculously alive. We carefully rushed him to the hospital where he was immediately rushed away. In all the activity, neither of us had noticed that Langly had cut his hand. As he paces in front of me I see the blood.

“Langly,” he looks at me, frightened. “Come here.” I command. He obeys, but looks at me curiously.

“What?” I take his injured hand and hold it palm up, examining the cut. He seems shocked at the sight of his own blood and stares into the crimson-stained palm. I stand, putting a hand on his shoulder as he wraps his slender fingers around his wrist, holding the wounded hand close to his body, and escort him to the closest nurse.

“Excuse me, pretty lady, I think my friend needs to have his hand examined. It seems he got a nice little gash.”

“All right, let me see.” She examines his hand carefully for a few seconds. “Well, it’s not bad, but you’re going to need sutures. Come with me.”

“I’ll be out here, Langly.” I call as she leads him to an open room.

I pull on a pair of latex gloves as the skinny guy climbs up on the exam table, still cradling his hand. His head is bowed, showing a crown of long golden hair. He’s quiet, and from my experience I know he’s worried about something.

“So what happened to you guys tonight?” I ask as I place his hand on the suture cart. His head snaps up, hazel eyes searching me from behind black-rimmed glasses. His tension seems to dissolve a little and he lowers his head again.

“I almost got my friend killed because I’m an idiot.” He grumbles.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“I couldn’t bypass the lock and he was still inside…and then…it was my fault. No, it wasn’t just my fault. It was their fault too.” I peer up at him, trying to keep my face neutral.

“Who are they?”

“Them. The MIB’s who are always one step ahead of us. The government poobahs who conspire and kill and cover just so the people don’t know the truth.” My brow furrows as I glance up at him. “If Byers dies, I will spend the rest of my life making sure that everyone knows the truth.”

“You’re a paranoid man, aren’t you?”

“Lady, I know too much not to be paranoid.” His honesty shocks me and I don’t know whether to feel scared or sorry for the things he’s told me.

“Langly,” the older man’s voice sounds from behind me, startling me. He’s a short man, sweet, but definitely not a looker. I look between the two men, the blonde waiting for the other man to continue. “Byers is out of surgery, he’s still not conscious, but he’s stable.”

“Can we see him?” The older man only nods. “Are you finished?”

“Just let me wrap it so the sutures don’t get irritated.” I explain as I wrap his wound in gaze and tape it off. “There, done.”

“Thanks.” He says, jumping down off the table and hurrying off to see their friend.

“Poor kid.” I sigh as he disappears.

I stand outside the door, hand on the knob, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Images of what Byers could look like run through my head and all I can think is that it was my fault. How could he have told me he didn’t blame me? I would have blamed me! Hell, I am blaming me. But it was my fault; I should have seen it…should have known not to mess with unfamiliar patterns. I feel Mel’s hand on my shoulder and turn my head towards him.

“It’s okay, Langly. Byers’s is alive.”

“Yeah, no thanks to me.”

“Ringo, I didn’t even see it coming and—“

“Mel, I should have known! Hell, I did know, I was just too stupid and not careful.” I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and I rip my glasses off my face, wiping at them angrily.

“Come on, Langly. You goofed, but you’re kung foo is still the best.” I don’t know if it’s the fact that Frohike just blamed me or told me I was still a good hacker, but something puts my mind at ease enough so that I can face Byers.

“Thanks, Doohickey.” I smirk as his face turns sour and annoyed but still loving.

“Shut up you hippy jerk.” He pushes me forward, urging me into the room and I take a deep breath.

Byers has two IV’s in his arm and a bandage around his forehead. For some reason I can’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. As I approach the bed I see his skin is redder than normal, but otherwise he looks like the same John Fitzgerald Byers. His reddish-brown beard is a little shaggier than normal and his hair is messy, but he’s still Byers. I chance a look at Frohike, who’s looking down at our sleeping pal, and gently place my hand over Byers’. He makes a soft noise and begins to open his eyes, turning his head to look at me.

“Well if it isn’t Lord Manhammer.” I roll my eyes at his sarcasm.

“You okay, Byers?” Frohike asks, leaning against the safety rail.

“For a man that was locked inside a building with a bomb, I think I’m relatively okay. Are all my limbs still intact?” Suddenly the dread has returned and I want nothing more than to lock myself away forever…killing myself would be too easy. Byers looks back at me as if reading my thoughts. “Langly, I’m joking.”

“Byers, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t have tripped the—“

“Langly, stop…” I stop, looking at him curiously. “You didn’t know. If our roles had been reversed and you were in that building and I was at the computer, who knows what sort of mess we’d be in!” We all laugh as the images run through our minds. “Listen, just think of this as payback for losing the $3000 in Vegas.”

“But—“ I sound pathetic but somehow I need him to blame me.

“No buts, Langly…You did everything you could and I’m proud of you for that. You didn’t ditch me.” I sigh and look at the floor. “What happened to your hand?”

“I guess I cut it when we were searching for you.” Byers reaches up, grabbing at my t-shirt, and pulls me down to him, wrapping his arms around me tightly. I return the hug as best as I can and feel Frohike’s hand on my back as well. I blindly reach towards him as well, pulling him into the hug, not caring how we look to anyone else.