The Kodachrome Epiphany

Author: Frohike
Email: frohike51@aol.com
Rating: PG, for some minor language
Distribution: Ask first, but I haven't turned anyone down yet.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. All credit for these fine
characters belongs to Chris Carter; what happens to them in this story
is entirely my fault.
Feedback: Yes, please.

This was written for the 1st Annual Reader's Day Challenge on Beyond
the Sea. Elements are listed at the end of the story.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Headquarters of the Lone Gunmen
5:45 PM

Frohike leafed through his collection of Scully photos and sorted them
into three categories, using the squares on his quilt as dividers. In
the blue square were pictures that were slightly out of focus and/or
terribly unflattering. Very few photos fit into that category thanks
to his talent with a camera and the fact that unflattering and Scully
were words rarely found in close proximity. The second category, in
the white square, consisted of photos of her with Mulder. In the blue
and white striped square he placed photos of Scully, by herself.
Candid shots all, none of those posed, artificial stances; nothing but
honest moments in time, captured for all to see. Well, not for all to
see, these pictures were intended for a single individual. One
stubborn, butthead of a man who didn't seem to recognize what a good
thing he had waiting for him if he'd only tuck away his insecurities
and try living for the here and now.

He traced a finger along his favorite picture and sighed. "You'd
better start paying attention to what you're being offered," Frohike
muttered, "or someone else is likely to steal her out from under you."
Instead of placing this particular photo with the other Scully
candids, Frohike slipped it under his pillow. Mulder could have all
the others, this one was his.

He put the Scully-only photos into the right pocket of the green
folder, then put the Mulder/Scully photos into the left pocket of the
same folder. He gathered up the small stack of unacceptable shots with
the intention of shredding them to save both Scully's dignity and his
reputation as a photographer.

He slid off the bed, feeling a sharp pain and hearing a distinct
snapping sound when his foot hit the floor.

"Shit," he muttered, as he grabbed the side of the bed for support.
"Goddamned bed risers!"

Two days ago, Byers had insisted on putting the beds on twelve-inch
risers to increase storage space in all three of their tiny bedrooms.
That was all well and good for men of Byers's and Langly's height, but
being only five foot three, the added inches meant the difference
between being able to slip in and out of bed comfortably and needing a
damned step stool to crawl under the covers at night. He'd complained
to Byers at the time, but John didn't quite seem to fully grasp the
extent of the problem.

'Same damn thing with the toilet paper in the bathroom,' Frohike
thought. 'I always put the roll on with the paper hanging over the
front, while they put it on, when they bother to replace it at all,
with the paper hanging down the back.' That extra two to three inches
gained by hanging the paper over the front of the roll was just enough
to allow his ass to remain fully on the seat. This, however, was not
something he'd ever bothered to share with the others. Instead, he
simply rehung the roll and ignored Langly's odd taunt about his being
anal retentive in the toilet paper department.

He shook his head to clear out the petty annoyance before daring to
look down at his now throbbing ankle. "Oh crap!" he exclaimed. The
entire foot and ankle were swollen. He tried to put a little pressure
on the foot. Big mistake. The resulting wave of pain sent him
crashing to the floor. The stack of pictures, once clasped tightly in
his hand, was now in a pile beside him.

Langly heard Frohike cry out and hurried back to check things out. He
knocked on the door.

"Frohike? You all right?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before
opening the door. "Oh shit!" Langly yelled for Byers, then knelt
beside Frohike. "What happened?"

Frohike groaned. "Fell off the bed. I think my ankle's broken."

Langly looked down at his friend's foot. "Geez, Mel!"

Byers ran into the room and saw his partners on the floor. "What's
going on? What happened?"

"Took you long enough," Langly said. "Call Scully. I think his ankle
snapped."

"What? How?" Byers asked.

"Your freakin' bed risers, that's how!" Frohike growled.

Byers frowned and folded his arms across his chest. "If you'd let me
buy you that step stool, like I offered in the first place. . ."

"Cut it out!" Langly yelled. "Look, call Scully and get her over
here, will ya?"

Byers nodded and left the room.

"Man, this looks really bad," Langly said. "You ok everywhere else?
I mean, does anything else hurt?"

"Only my pride," Frohike grumbled. He looked to his left, saw the
photos and picked them up. "Go shred these for me before Scully gets
here."

Langly took the pictures from his friend's hand. "You're really gonna
go through with this?"

"You saw her when she thought she'd lost him to Diana. She's finally
ready to admit that she feels something for Mulder, but she's too
damned stubborn to do anything about it." He tried to shift positions
on the floor, but only managed to send shockwaves of pain through his
body. Frohike bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from screaming.

"Oh, that had to hurt," Langly said.

"Will you just go shred those things already?" Frohike asked.

"Yeah, be right back." Langly got up and left the room, bumping into
Byers at the door.

"Hang on, let me take a look," Byers said into the receiver. He knelt
down by Frohike's foot and frowned. "Yes, it's purple and swollen to
at least twice its normal size." He listened, then looked at Frohike.
"Scully wants to know if you heard a snap or a popping sound when you
hit the floor?"

Frohike nodded. "There was a definite snap."

"He said there was a definite snap." Byers glanced at Frohike again.
"I was afraid of that. We'll meet you there in a few minutes.
Thanks, Scully. Bye."

"We'll meet her where?" Frohike asked.

Byers put the phone down on the bed. "Hospital," he answered. "She
says it sounds like you might have broken your ankle. We need to get
you to the emergency room and have it x-rayed to be sure."

George Washington University Hospital
7:03 PM

Scully grabbed a wheelchair and hurried to the entrance as soon as she
spotted the boys. Byers and Langly were on either side of Frohike,
helping to support his weight. Frohike was obviously experiencing a
great deal of pain.

They helped him into the chair, then Scully took over, wheeling him
back to the reception desk in the waiting room. The nurse buzzed the
door open, allowing Scully to head back to an examining room.

"No paperwork?" Frohike asked. "No waiting? How'd I rate the VIP
treatment?"

"They know us here," she said, giving him a smile. "Mulder finished
most of the paperwork and he'll have Byers fill in the gaps." Scully
drew the curtain, put on a pair of latex gloves, then knelt down to
look at his foot. "I don't think there's any doubt that you've broken
it." She stood, picked up a syringe from counter, pushed up his
sleeve and wiped a small area of his upper arm with alcohol.

"What's that?" Frohike asked, staring at the needle.

"Just a little something to ease the pain," she answered. "Unless
you'd rather continue to suffer."

"No," he answered quickly. "Make it a double, ok?"

"Let's start with this for now," she said. "I think you'll find it
sufficient."

Headquarters of the Lone Gunmen
9:37 PM

Scully walked around to the opposite side of the car and handed
Frohike his crutches. He was still a little out of sorts, a
combination of the shock to his system and the residual effects of the
shot Scully had given him earlier.

Mulder met them at the door, holding it open wide so that Frohike
would have plenty of room to maneuver. Frohike thought he caught
something in the way Mulder looked at him. Anger? He couldn't be
sure, but he definitely felt a cold breeze as he slipped past Scully's
partner.

Frohike moved slowly down the hall toward his bedroom. He was not
looking forward to having to climb up into his bed in front of Scully
or Mulder. It was embarrassing enough that they knew he'd broken his
ankle by falling off the bed, but having to climb in like a small
child was adding insult to injury.

As he entered his room, the first thing he noticed was the balloon
bouquet on top of his dresser. Then he spotted the ones on the floor,
the wall and even the loose balloons bumping the ceiling over his bed.
Thirty Mylar and latex, helium-filled green, yellow, pink and purple
balloons, in all. He inched closer to the balloon bouquet on his
dresser to read the writing on a purple latex balloon. "Mardi Gras?"
he asked.

"It was either these or a dozen "It's a Girl" balloons," Langly
explained. "They were out of helium and these were the only ones
already blown up."

"They're quite, festive," Scully said. "But for now, I think you need
to enjoy them from a horizontal position."

The moment of truth was at hand. Frohike turned away from the dresser
and hobbled over to his bed. It took a minute to register that the
bed was back to its normal height. He glanced over at Byers, who
shrugged.

"Mulder helped me take the risers down," he said. "We thought that
maybe some shelves would be better in here."

Frohike smiled and sat down on his bed.

"All right everyone, out," Scully ordered. "Frohike needs to get some
sleep." She shooed everyone out of the room. "Can I get you
anything? T-shirt? Pajamas?" she asked, pointing at his dresser.

"Yeah, pajamas are in the second drawer," he answered. He thought a
moment, then stopped her. "Wait, better make it sweat pants," he said.
"I don't think the pajama legs are going to fit over the cast."

Scully put back the pajamas and pulled out a well-worn pair of grey
sweats and a t-shirt. She put them on the bed next to him. "Need any
help getting into these?"

Frohike shifted on the bed. "Scully, in the hospital I can see you as
a doctor, but we're not in the hospital anymore."

"And this makes you uncomfortable," she said, finishing his thought.
"I'll send in one of the boys."

Frohike breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. For everything."

Scully smiled at him, then turned and left the room, closing the door
behind her.

Frohike changed out of his shirt and into the t-shirt she'd put on the
bed. He removed his remaining shoe and sock, then set about taking
off his pants. Getting the uninjured leg out of the pants wasn't a
problem, but he found he had to shred the rest of the other pant leg
to allow enough room for the cast to pull through. By the time he
finally pulled on his sweats, he was sweating and exhausted. He fell
back onto his pillow, not bothering to get under the covers.

A few minutes later, he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said.

Byers entered the room, then closed the door. "Scully said you needed
help?" he asked, seeing Frohike in fresh clothing.

"Nah, I managed on my own. Thanks."

"There's a minor, situation, with Mulder," Byers began. "He's a bit
unnerved by something he found in here."

Frohike closed his eyes. "You mean he's pissed about the pictures," he
said. "I thought I felt a chill in the air when I got home." Another
thought occurred to him and opened his eyes again. "He hasn't said
anything to Scully, has he?"

"No, but I think you better speak to him before he does." Byers
started to leave the room, then turned back. "For the record, I think
you're doing a good thing, Mel. It may not be perfectly executed, but
your heart is in the right place."

Frohike chuckled. "Thanks, you might want to remember that for the
eulogy."

Byers laughed quietly as he left the room.

Mulder came into the room moments later. He opened the drawer of the
nightstand next to Frohike's bed, pulled out the green folder and
tossed it on the quilt. "Start talking."

"You're thinking that I've been sneaking around in the bushes taking
surveillance photos of you and Scully for some nefarious purpose,"
Frohike said, looking Mulder square in the eyes.

"Until you prove otherwise, yeah, that's what I'm thinking," Mulder
answered.

Frohike shrugged. "Well, you're right." He paused, taking in
Mulder's shocked expression. "Are you going to shoot me now or do I
get a chance to explain?"

Mulder gestured for him to go on.

"You might want to sit down first."

Mulder remained standing and staring.

"Ok." Frohike opened the folder, removed the Scully pictures and
fanned them out on the bed. "There. Tell me what
you see."

"I see Scully being photographed without her knowledge,"
Mulder answered.

"Yeah, but what do you see?" Frohike asked again.

"She's outside, taking a walk," Mulder answered. "So what?"

"For Christ's sake man, look at her face! Does she seem happy to
you?" Frohike was rapidly approaching exasperation. "Some
freakin' profiler you are!"

Mulder stepped a little closer and picked up a picture. He put it
down and began to really look at all of the photos spread out on
the bed. "She looks sad," he conceded. "Lonely."

"Exactly! She's at the park on a beautiful, sunny day and she
looks like she doesn't have a friend in the world," Frohike said.
He gathered up the pictures and put them back into the green
folder.

"What are you doing?" Mulder asked.

"Hold your horses, I'm tryin' to make a point," Frohike
answered, as he took the pictures from the left pocket of the
folder and spread those out on the bed. "Now look at these and
tell me what you see. And if you say you see pictures of you and
Scully being photographed without your knowledge, I'll put my cast up
your ass."

Mulder's fingers skimmed over the photos before choosing one. He
lifted it up and looked at the smile on Scully's face. He turned his
attention to the other shots and noticed that while she wasn't smiling
in all of them, there was an aura of contentment about her.

"She looks happy. What's your point?" Mulder asked, even though he had
a pretty good idea where this was going.

Frohike closed his eyes and willed away the urge to throttle Mulder
and call him a butthead to his face. His foot was throbbing and now
this conversation was beginning to make his head hurt. Maybe it was
time to be blunt and get this over with. He opened the folder, rifled
through the pictures until he found the one he needed. He chose
another from the pile on the bed and put the two next to each other.
"These were taken on the same day. This one," he said, tapping the
solo Scully shot, "was taken about fifteen minutes before you showed
up." He pushed the picture closer to Mulder. "This was taken about
fifteen minutes after you showed up." He pushed that one over to
Mulder as well and waited for Mulder to say something. When he didn't
Frohike continued. "All right, let's make this simple," he said.
"Without Mulder, sad. With Mulder, happy. And, if you take a good
look at all of these pictures, you'll see that you're happy, too."

Mulder took his eyes off the pictures and just stared at Frohike.

"Jesus, man! Do you need me to spell it out for you?" His voice
rose. "The woman is crazy about you! She's come close to saying it
out loud to me, Byers and Langly and she's all but screaming it at you
in these pictures. What I don't get is why you're not seeing it.
You're crazy about her, she's crazy about you, but neither of you is
willing to take a risk and say it out loud."

Scully appeared in the doorway. "Say what out loud? Why are you
yelling at Mulder?"

Frohike made an effort to cover the pictures, but Scully reached the
bed before he could.

She looked at the pictures, then from Frohike to Mulder. "What's
going on? Where did these come from?"

"I took them," Frohike said. "They're pictures of two people too
stupid to admit how much they love each other. I thought that maybe,
just maybe, if I confronted one of these stupid people that he might
finally have the courage to do something about it. I hoped I might
trigger a, I don't know, a Kodachrome epiphany, maybe."

"A Kodachrome epiphany?" Mulder and Scully said in unison.

"It's been a long day," Frohike explained. "That was the first thing
that came to mind."

Scully walked over and stood beside Mulder. She contemplated a few of
the pictures, then glanced at her partner. "Maybe we should talk,"
she said to Mulder.

Mulder looked at her, the beginning of a smile forming. "Maybe we
should."

"Good!" Frohike exclaimed. The tension finally drained from his body.
He felt like he was melting into the pillow. "Now get the hell out
of here so I can get some rest."

"Go on," Scully said to Mulder. "I want to clear these off the bed
and check his foot before I leave. See you at my place?"

Mulder smiled and nodded. "Don't be long."

Scully gathered the pictures and put them in green folder with the
others. She started to put them in the drawer, but Frohike stopped
her.

"You keep them," he said.

She put the folder on top of the nightstand and walked to the end of
the bed to check Frohike's foot. "Everything looks good," she said.
"You can take something for pain after eleven, if you need it."

"Look, Scully, about the pictures."

She moved back to where she had been before and put a hand on his
head. "They're beautiful," she said. Scully bent over and kissed him
gently on the forehead. "Thank you," she whispered. "Sleep well."

He closed his eyes. I will now, he thought, I will now.

Challenge elements
1. Bed Risers

2. Mardi Gras

3. Optional: "That" (first time sex, pairing of your choice) {Implied,
but not stated outright. I did deliver a first (and last)
Frohike/Scully kiss. *g*}

4. Optional: Frohike with a folder full of Scully candids he has to
explain

5.A helium balloon