Title: Secrets Man Was Not Meant to Know
Author: D. Sidhe
Email: dsidhe@attbi.com
Category: Gen/Het
Rating: G
Summary: The strangest stories ever told…
Disclaimers: Nobody here is mine. Nothing here is mine. Apologies to all and sundry.

 

 

Byers let himself in and stood for a moment in the pool of darkness by the door, trying to decide what he was hearing echoed at him from somewhere else in the large warehouse. It was familiar, but with an odd twist, like the sudden realization that that was Michelle Shocked singing "Vissi D'Arte".

Ah, that was it. Underneath the normal noise of Frohike and Langly bickering, the occasional sharp comments from Mulder. Well, they weren't likely to kill each other in the next ten minutes or so, and he was hungry.

Dinner first, then referee duty. So he headed upstairs, not quite stealthily but certainly not announcing his presence, and glanced at the fridge. A particularly outraged protest from Langly, and he decided he'd better make do with leftover Thai. Another complaint, this time from Frohike, and he didn't even stop to microwave it. He grabbed carton and fork and hurried downstairs to see what idiotic thing Mulder was trying to talk his partners into this time.

He tracked the noises and found them all in the morgue, sitting at a table covered with papers. "What's up?" he asked mildly, hooking a chair over and sitting down.

This was apparently an invitation for everyone to talk at once, and he held up his fork. "One at a time, please. Mulder, you can take point. Frohike, counterpoint. And Langly, you can offer color commentary."

Mulder shrugged. "All I'm saying is, the Australians are responsible for global warming, because big media wants to make Oliver North into a Supreme Court Justice so they can use the plague of demons. Global warming as a New World Order will be a distraction during the confirmation process."

Byers blinked.

"Yeah, so tell him about the Frog God and the Military-Industrial Complex," Langly inserted acerbically.

Byers just stared at them.

"Never mind that," Frohike said. "I'm saying there's no way Australia would be behind global warming. They're *coastal*, for heaven's sake. Global warming would drown the population, which mostly lives on the edges of the country, and reduce its power. For what? So they can start selling the Outback as beachfront property?"

"It doesn't matter," Mulder explained patiently. "The Goldfish Fanciers use their own logic, and you don't even know what their goal is. It could fit right in. How would you know?"

"Goldfish fanciers?" Byers asked, fork forgotten halfway to his mouth.

Frohike nodded at him, not deterred for a moment. "But it's gotta make *some* kind of sense, Mulder. That's what I'm saying."

"How do you know it doesn't?"

"Aw, geez," Langly groaned. "You're making this up as you go along, Mulder. Just admit it already!"

"So what if I am? You're the one who brought the vampires into it." He turned to Frohike. "And you and your perpetual motion machine! What's that got to do with the congressional wives?"

Byers sighed. "Guys, none of this is real. Why are you fighting over it?"

They all started yelling at once. Frohike jabbed at a paper and indignantly demanded Byers explain why he felt the eighteen-and-a-half-minute gap wasn't real, while Langly launched into a passionate defense of the existence of Eliza. And Mulder waved another paper at Byers, "I'm pretty sure I can prove the FBI is real, Byers."

"Never mind," Byers said, standing. "You sort it out amongst yourselves."

"Byers!" the three of them yelled

"Come back here," Mulder instructed. "I'll explain it."

"No, absolutely not," Byers said firmly. "You guys work it out by yourselves. I'm *not* getting involved."

"C'mon, Byers," Frohike pleaded. "We could really use you here."

"No. I'm going to finish my dinner and go to bed." He waved his fork at them. "And if you keep yelling and I can't sleep, I'm coming back down here and taking your cards away from you, and you can just play 'Sim Golf' for the rest of the night. Is that clear?"

Langly snorted. "'Sim Golf' sucks, Byers."

"Then keep it down." Byers headed upstairs, muttering "Goldfish fanciers" under his breath.

Mulder stared after him. "You'd think he'd really be able to get into 'Illuminati'. Is he a 'Magic: The Gathering' fan?"

Frohike set his hand down. "He's just steamed 'cause I trounced his Discordian Society deck last time."

 

*end*

 

My most sincere apologies to Steve Jackson Games. I'm just venting because my SO made me play 'Illuminati: New World Order' the other night, and proceeded to destroy my deck card by card. Even threats of violence did not save me. Of course, my SO does collectible card games for a living. That still doesn't excuse the No-Mercy Variation rules for "Pokemon". Langly can yell "Salt the earth", but it sounds pretty weird coming from Misty and Togepi.

Steve Jackson's CCG INWO can be found here: http://www.sjgames.com/inwo/

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