Disclaimer: Chris Carter and whomever he decrees own the Lone Gunmen. Stan Lee and whomever he decrees own recognizable Marvel characters. I own nothing. *sighs wistfully*

Note: Special thanks to two special people, Magdellin and Goose. You both rock. Thanks for giving me a little nudge (okay, a kick) in the hiney! ;~)

Enjoy!

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Drunk and Ready

"This the site?" Langly asked.

"Yeah. I spent a few hours on it this afternoon, but couldn't get any real info from it. There has to be something here. It's the only one I could find that was remotely related to Genesis."

Langly nodded absently, already absorbed in the challenge of breaking through security.

Frohike sat back and crossed his arms.

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As the hackers worked, Quinn sat quietly on their sofa. As much as she hated it, her hands felt restless and occupied themselves with repeatedly filling a glass with whiskey. Her mouth and throat collaborated with her hands and swallowed the alcohol roboticly as well.

By the time Jimmy Bond sauntered through the door, she was more than slightly drunk.

"Who's the boy-toy?" she whooped.

Startled, he stopped in his tracks. A half grin slid across his face.

"Relax, Jimmy," Byers answered. "Not only is she plastered, her tastes run more toward Langly and some guy named Toad."

Frohike snickered. Langly's attention was too rapt on the screen to hear the comment.

Byers caught Jimmy by the arm before he interrupted the other two. "Listen. Why don't you keep Quinn company . . . she's had a hard time lately, and well, you're the best 'people person' of us."

A concerned look wrinkled his brow. "Is that why she's drinking so much?"

"She always drinks a lot. But tonight she's had more than normal. You think you can help us out here?"

Jimmy nodded, determined. "I'll do my best."

"Good man," Byers replied, slapping him on the back and propelling him to the couch.

Byers himself returned to the desk with his partners.

"Man, Byers—that was slick. Thanks for distracting him," Frohike praised.

"No problem. I'd like to have this Quinn's case settled as soon as possible. We do have a newspaper to publish, and every second we spend on her is a second we don't work on it."

"Should've known," muttered the older man under his breath.

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Into the night, Jimmy stayed with Quinn, listening to her rants, propping her up, and secretly refilling her glass with water. He learned, through her slurred and disjointed speeches, that she and Toad had split the Brotherhood when Magneto was imprisoned; that she was able to support them with a large stash of money from previous jobs; and that Jim Beam was the best damn alcohol ever distilled.

Gently he turned her wavering thoughts back to her immediate problem. Quinn told him that she had heard rumors that the Genesis Project was kidnapping mutants. Some of her mutant acquaintances from her old hangouts had gone missing. But she didn't think much of it—most of her acquaintances wandered from city to city without much fanfare. So she never thought that Genesis would be capable of tracking her or Toad down. She used so many aliases she was confident no one could.

Quinn, at this point, broke down and sobbed into Jimmy's shoulder.

"I never-never shoulda left him, Jimmy! I was only gone for a coupla minutes, I swear—but the pricks must've been trailin' me and knew where we lived—when I got back with the p-pizza the door'd been kicked in, the place was a wreck, and Toad was g-gone!

"And-and now they've got him and the longer they have him who knows what they'll do to him and we've got to find him and, and—"

She wailed a few more seconds, causing the Lone Gunmen to stop their work and stare. Jimmy, uncomfortable but sympathetic, slid an arm around her shoulder and soothed her.

"Don't worry, Quinn—we'll find him. Right guys?"

Jimmy threw them a beseeching look. They could only return it with a shrug. By that time, however, Quinn was beyond noticing—she had passed out.

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Through the murky depths of nausea, Quinn could hear muffled voices.

"You think we should wake her?"

"She's your ex, hippie—you do it."

She wanted to open her eyes. They refused. Her shoulder was taken.

"Quinn? Quinn?" a parody of Langly's real voice said, in rhythm with the shaking of her shoulder. "Come on, baby, you've gotta wake up."

"Byers!" called Frohike. His voice always cut through the room the same. "Hurry up with that coffee!"

Langly was still shaking her. "I know you're hung over, but you need to get up."

Go away, she thought. Let me die in peace.

He continued talking and squeezing her arm. "Quinn, we did it. I hacked through that Genesis site and—"

"He could only do it with my help!" Frohike interjected loudly, as if she was deaf as well as sick.

"—now we know where they are—"

"New Jersey, of all places! The Pine Barrens!"

"—so we knew you'd want to get started driving there ASAP, so you have to wake up—"

"Byers, where is that coffee?!"

"—come on, Quinn, we're not going up there alone—"

Quinn sat up abruptly and demanded, "Why didn't you say so in the first place? Let's go find those bastards."

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