Title: By Proxy
By:Amanda
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Rating: PG-14
Warnings: Mild situations – "mature humour"
Disclaimer: Characters created by Chris Carter; cared for by Frank Spotnitz, Vince Gilligan and John Shiban; loved by fans. In short, I don't own them.
Spoilers/Continuity: The Truth
Summary: The dead aren't really lost to us – though Mulder sometimes wishes they'd leave him alone a minute.
Completed: April 11, 2008
Notes: It's sort of a response to my own challenge of "where are they now."

"Whoa buddy, you'd better watch that aim of yours," Frohike quipped from his perch on the side of the bathtub. Idly, he flipped through a lingering newspaper that had been left in the bathroom. A few days old by now, but better than any other alternative.

"Geez Mulder, if the academy guys could see you now," Langly leaned over the sink, trying to cast a reflection in the mirror. But he still wasn't able to. 'No control,' Frohike had told him more than once, but offered no other advice.

Mulder sighed. He was far too comfortable with this by now. Which he was sure said far more about him than he wanted to analyse; He just went with it.
"I'd imagine they'd compliment me on my other attributes," he gave the customary two shakes and flushed the toilet.

Langly rolled his eyes, stepping back to give Mulder access to the sink. "Not from what I've seen…er, no, wait. Not that I've been looking or…" he sputtered, floundering for a way out of the verbal mess he had stepped in.

This time Frohike rolled his eyes. He folded up the newspaper, "It's safe to come out now Byers – Mulder's shame it hidden. And Langly's an idiot."

Langly shot him a glare but said nothing, figuring it was best not to draw attention to himself again so soon.

"That reminds me," Mulder wet his toothbrush under the running facet, "I've been meaning to ask you guys something." He squeezed an appropriate amount of toothpaste on the brush – from the top of the tube, against Scully's many warnings. And threats of bodily harm.
"What?" Byers, having joined them, lowered the toilet seat and sat down – he, at least, had learned that much over the last little while.

"Why are you guys still around?" Mulder put his toothbrush in his mouth, but pulled it out again, his thought not fully expressed, "I mean, X and Krycek are long gone, but you three –," he began brushing his teeth. The nightly ritual, with the nightly company. Guy time, as he'd come to think of it. "– are still hanging around," He spoke around the froth of mint scented bubbles.

"That hurts!" Langly grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest, "After all these years I'd think you'd like having us around. Hell, you've dropped in on us enough over the years. Whenever you felt like it. Without so much as a call."

Frohike shoved him, sending the other man over the tub's edge with a thud, and a curse. "Idiot," he repeated.

"The truth is," Byers began, ignoring the slapstick from his comrades, "we don't exactly know why."

"Besides, we've got no where else to go," Frohike confessed; though the realisation didn't register as sad so much as fact. Just something that was. Something that was accepted.

Mulder considered it, then spit into the sink. Seemed logical enough, all things considered.
"And we could still be useful," Byers added with a half smile. Ever the optimist.

"We can't click the buttons, but we can tell you which ones to click," Langly clamoured out of the tub, which was difficult seeing as he'd kept slipping through whenever he gained a footing.
"Speak for yourself, hippie," Frohike stuck out his hand to help Langly to his feet. "No control," he chastised again.

Mulder wrapped a length of floss around his thumb, thinking, "I suppose, that would make me your sidekick now." He pulled the other end of the floss taunt between his opposite thumb and index finger. "Well, maybe not a sidekick seeing as I got the girl," his mouth twitched into a smile as he slide the floss between his lower bicuspids.

"Byers man, how can you stomach this," Langly gagged, "but you aren't around when he pees? I'm outta here." He squeezed his eyes shut and disappeared with much greater ease than it took getting out of the tub. Mulder no longer expected a cartoon 'pop' whenever they did that. Although, the warning would be nice. Just to know little things like when and where.
"Modesty still isn't one of Langly's virtues," Byers commented, toeing the blue fuzzy bathmat that covered the bathroom floor, "But he's right. We can't exactly 'click the buttons' but we can serve as a bit of a guide."
"Besides, girl or no girl, we're the only friends you've got buddy," Frohike removed his glasses, wiping the lenses on one of the co-ordinating blue towels.

A gentle knock sounded on the door, "Mulder, you alright in there?"

"We're – I'm fine Scully," he called back, "Be out in a minute."
Frohike clicked his tongue, replacing his glasses, "The fair Dana still doesn't believe in us?"

Mulder shrugged, washing his hands one last time, "She thinks I haven't been able to process your, ah, well, you know."

"Our deaths," Byers offered, and this time Mulder seemed sheepish, avoiding looking at either of the men occupying his bathroom.
"I'm sure that will come, with time," Byers offered a smile, as if everything was normal.

"Thanks," Mulder chuckled; he didn't know what was crazier talking to the dead, or getting mental health advice from them. He wasn't about to ask anyone though. This was one of those few things that are better left undiscovered.

"Better get to bed," he muttered, in one of the few moments when he actually was talking to himself. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and turned. "Ah, one more thing guys?" Mulder loosened his grip on the doorknob.
They both looked back up at him.

"You don't pop up any other time during the night, do you?"
"When would we – oh!" Byers managed a blush, "No!"

Mulder eyed the little man.
Frohike placed his hand over his heart, and pledged, "I would never desecrate the sanctity of Saint Scully."

"Fair enough. Good night boys," Mulder stepped through, closing the bathroom door, and padded down to the next room in the modest apartment.

"Never?" Byers glanced over to Frohike once Mulder was safely out of earshot.
Frohike held his hands up in defence, "Hey, it was only that once. And you can't really blame a guy. I'm a weak man." He flashed a smile and disappeared.
Sighing, Byers put the cap back on the toothpaste, tossed the newspaper into the wastepaper basket and switched off the light. After he was satisfied that everything was settled in its place, he too faded from view.

Maybe tomorrow night they'd finally talk about that Alien Armageddon mess.

End.