Langly couldn't sleep. It was the middle of the night, and no matter how much he tossed and turned in his bed, he still couldn't nod off for the much needed sleep. He couldn't rest as he kept thinking of Mulder and his passing. He wondered if this was his way of mourning for his late friend.

He sat up in bed and yawned as he pushed his hair away from his eyes and reached around his bedside table for his thick, owl rimmed glasses. He put them on before putting on his shabby old blue dressing gown. He decided to give up sleeping that night, as he obviously couldn't doze off. So he got out of bed and walked quietly into the main offices of the Lone Gunmen. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one that was still up.

For, standing with his back in front of him, was Frohike, also dressed in his dressing gown. He was looking in the fridge for something, and took it out when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to face his associate and as he did so, Langly could see Frohike had a can of beer in his hand. Frohike smiled sheepishly at Langly.

"Oh, hey there, buddy. Still can't sleep?" He asked. Langly shook his head. "Neither can you by the look of things," he said, gesturing to the beer. "You want one?" Frohike asked. Langly shook his head. "No thanks," he replied, "Just an orange juice will do me."

Frohike walked over to the sofa while Langly took out his drink. He then walked over and sat next to Frohike. "So, what's your excuse for staying up?" Frohike asked as he opened his can of beer and took a sip. Langly sighed. "I don't know, man," he admitted as he rubbed his neck in frustration. "I just can't sleep. Do you think it has something to do with... you know. Mulder?" He asked his older friend.

Frohike thought for a moment. "You mean, is this your way of trying to mourn him?" He asked the younger Gunman. Langly shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Is it right? I just feel bad for Mulder. All I've done is won a computer game and crowned him as king, and talking to you right now. I feel bad for not feeling or doing anything more," he said.

Frohike patted Langly's shoulder. "It's okay, buddy," he told him. "We all grieve in different ways. We're only human," he told his friend wisely. "If you feel you need to do something to honour Mulder, then I'd do it. Just do what you feel you need to do. Even if that just means you sitting here talking to me about him, then that's how you are grieving," he said. "It just shows that you're remembering him."

Langly nodded. "What about Byers? Is he okay?" He asked. Frohike took another sip of beer. "I think I heard him on the phone to Suzanne Modeski a while ago. Remember he kept her new address?" He asked. "What about you?" Langly asked him. "How do you feel?" He asked. Frohike sighed and sipped his beer again.

"I don't know, buddy," he admitted. "Mulder was one of my best buds, you know. I guess I'm going to visit his grave and put flowers on it. I can lay fresh flowers there every couple of weeks if you guys think it's okay," he said.

Langly nodded. "That's touching, man," he said. He knew how close Mulder and Frohike were. "Thanks," Frohike said. He looked at his watch and yawned. "I don't know about you, but I think it's my time for bed," he said, tapping Langly on the shoulder again. "How about you, bud?" He asked as Langly sipped his orange juice. "Yeah, I guess," he said, a little doubtfully. "OK buddy," Frohike said. "Night," he said, and Langly nodded back with a small smile. "Thanks for the talk," he said, feeling better for it. "No problem," Frohike said with a smile as he finished his beer. He then turned and walked into his bedroom.

Langly finished his orange juice and followed suite. He sighed wearily as he took off his glasses and lay back down on his bed. He lay on top of his covers, staring at the ceiling. Then, as he thought about Mulder again, to his surprise he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He waited for a moment for it to go away, but they were welling up too much.

He found himself weeping. "Mulder," he murmured, holding his head in his hands. "Mulder," he repeated. Just then, Frohike appeared in his doorway. "Hey, buddy," he said in concern, and went over to Langly's side. "Come on, let it out, that's right," he said softly, putting his arm around Langly's shoulders.

"I don't know what's happening," Langly said between sniffles. Frohike smiled a small smile. "You're mourning for Mulder," he told him, and Langly wept some more.

After a while, Langly stopped crying and he dried his eyes. "Don't tell Byers," he managed to tell Frohike. Frohike grinned. "Cross my heart," he said, and Langly regained his composure enough to see Frohike grin back at him as he left the younger Gunman's room. "I mean it, Frohike," Langly said. Frohike nodded. "I know," he said. "But it's a good thing you just did. I've never seen you cry before," he said.

"OK, night, Frohike," Langly sid pointedly. Frohike took this as a sign to leave. "Night," he said, then walked out. Langly sighed. He was never going to live this down. But if Frohike told Byers, he wouldn't mind. At least it showed he cared for Mulder as a friend,

With another yawn, Langly gave up thinking about it and turned off the light, before finally falling asleep.