A Simple Car Crash...
by Surreal
Feedback!!:  surreal666@hotmail.com
Spoilers: Wow...I don't think there are any!
Archive: Ephemeral, Gossamer, LGM list,
anywhere else, just ask
Keywords:  Gunmen, torture, angst, some humor
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer:  So, Chris Carter still wants them, huh?
Well, he has a funny way of showing it!  The 
agents, the Gunmen, the Project, and the cool
hippie van still belong to Fox (not Mulder).
Summery:  A little car accident leads to serious 
trouble for the Lone Gunmen



DAY 1
Lone Gunmen Headquarters
10:54pm

    "Byers is on his way back from Miami with the info you
asked for," Langly explained as he let Mulder and Scully
into the dark, cluttered dungeon that the Gunmen call
home.  
    "Should have been back an hour ago," Frohike mumbled
as he glanced at his watch yet again.
    "Chill out, Doo-hikey.  You know he still drives like a 
narc."
    Mulder cut in before the argument had a chance to get
out of hand.  "Enough, guys.  We'll wait as long as we need
to; we need those records--"
    The phone rang then, cutting him off.  Langly jumped to 
answer it, flipping on the scrambler and recorder with a 
practiced ease.  "Lone Gunmen," he said, then waited a 
moment.  "Shit--hang on, I'll put you on speaker."
    Langly looked at the others.  "It's Byers," he said simply,
hitting another switch on the overly-complicated phone
system.
    "Hey, guys.  Um...Langly, you have insurance on this car,
right?" Byers asked hesitantly, sounding a bit breathless.
    Langly smacked a palm to his forehead and took a deep,
calming breath.  "Yeah, I do.  What did you do to it, Byers?"
    "Good news is, I lost the car tailing me a while back..."
    "Make with the bad news, Byers," Frohike cut in impatiently.
    "I'm not very good at this whole reckless driving thing...I 
kinda just totaled the car going about 70..."
    "Jesus!" Mulder jumped in, brow wrinkling with concern.  
"Byers, are you okay?"
    "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Byers answered hurriedly.  "I'm out
on an empty stretch of highway about ten miles from DC  
Can someone come out here and give me a hand?"
    "I'm on my way," Langly responded, hanging up the phone.
He looked at Frohike.  "Is the van still rigged to tow?"
    "Yeah, the chains are in the back."
    "All right," Langly said as he headed for the door, snatching
a set of keys off his desk on his way.
    Scully was on his heels.  "I'm going with you."
    Langly turned and looked at her, confused.  "Why?  You have 
some kind of car wreckage fetish we don't know about?"
    Scully narrowed her eyes at him.  "I want to make sure Byers
isn't hurt."
    "But he said--"
    "I know what he said.  Let's go," she said impatiently, pushing 
past Langly out the door.  The blond man just shrugged at the other
guys and followed her.


Highway

    "Christ, Byers!!  What the hell did you do?" Langly yelped as he
jumped out of the van.
    Byers glanced up from where he was sitting, leaning his back
against the left front tire of the car.  At least, where it used 
to be.  The tire itself was laying several yards away, across
the highway.  The roof of the car was crushed in, most of the
windows broken and glass everywhere.  
    "All I did was glance back for a second to make sure I wasn't
being followed anymore, and when I looked back to the road...
I didn't even see the curve!  It's dark out here, and your hair 
would do a better job of lighting the road than these headlights!"
Byers complained.  "Oh...hi, Agent Scully."
    "Hi, Byers.  Are you sure you're okay?" Scully asked, reaching 
down to help him stand.  
    Grunting, he nodded.  "I'm fine;  the car rolled a couple of 
times, but ended up back on its wheels."  He climbed to his feet 
stiffly, Scully holding his arm for support.  He gave her a grateful
smile before turning to help Langly hook the wrecked car to the
back of the van.
    After throwing the last of the broken pieces into the back of
the van, Langly slid into the driver's seat and turned the key,
gunning the engine.  Scully could tell he was not in the best of 
moods, with good reason, so she climbed into the back seat next
to Byers. 
    The ride back was uncomfortably quiet, accented only with the
occasional cough and Langly muttering to himself.  Scully kept
a worried eye on Byers, who just gave her a tight smile if he
caught her looking.  


    Back at headquarters, Byers slumped into his chair in front of 
his computer, silently starting to analyze the files he brought 
back from Florida.  
    "Byers, why don't you let the guys do that;  you've been on
the road for almost sixteen hours, and you just got into a 
serious accident," Scully told him softly, moving to stand 
behind him.  
    Wiggling out of his suit jacket, he shook his head tightly.  
"No;  I've been looking at these things for hours and I think I 
have an idea where to begin."  He did hand half of the stack
of files over to Frohike, however.
    Within ten minutes Scully had had enough.  She had been 
watching Byers as he worked, absently grabbing the back of
his neck every few minutes.  "Byers, lean your head forward,"
she ordered him.  
    "What?" he replied distractedly, not turning away from his
screen.
    She moved back behind him, and placed her hand on the back
of his head, carefully tilting it forward.  He sucked in a sharp
breath, as if in pain.  
    "I thought so;  you hurt your neck, didn't you?"
    He sighed.  "Scully, I'm fine."
    Ignoring him, she gently probed his neck with her fingers,
soliciting the occasional grunt of discomfort from Byers.  With
an exasperated sigh, she pushed on his back, making him lean
forward.  "Put your head down," she ordered him.
    "Scully--"
    "Don't argue with me, Byers."
    He glanced at Mulder for backup, but the agent just shrugged.
Byers crossed his arms on the table in front of him and rested
his forehead on them.  Scully reached up and gently rubbed his 
neck, her thumbs digging carefully into the base.  He was too
exhausted to argue, and soon felt himself drifting to sleep.
    Scully felt Byers relax under her hands, and looked over
at the other Gunmen.  "Can you guys finish this up without
him?"
    Smirking, Langly nodded.  
    Shaking his shoulder, Scully pulled Byers out of his semi-
conscious state.  "Come on;  you need to get some rest."
    Nodding sleepily, he slid off his stool and stumbled off
toward his room.
    "We'll call you guys tomorrow about the files," Scully told
the other guys as she grabbed Mulder's arm and pulled him with 
her to the door.
    

DAY 2
Highway
9:23am

    "There--I see the glass on the road," Byers pointed as Langly 
slowed the van.  Byers had insisted this morning that he go back
out and clean up the rest of the debris from the wreck, and 
Langly refused to let him behind the wheel of the van. 
    "I see it," Langly muttered, pulling to the side and parking.
    Byers got out, then slid the side door open to retrieve 
two tattered brooms from the back.  He shucked off his suit
jacket and laid it on the passenger seat.  Tossing one to Langly, 
he started to sweep up the broken glass into a semi-neat mountain.
    Working in silence, the two men soon had a paper sack full
of broken glass.  They both scanned the area, searching for any 
trace of debris or identifying markers from the car. 
    Satisfied with their effort, they climbed back into the van.
    Before Langly had a chance to start the vehicle, Byers
suddenly whispered, "Oh, shit..."
    Langly glanced at his friend, then followed the older man's 
line of sight to the road ahead of them, the direction that 
Byers had come from the night before.  Approaching rapidly
were a black Sedan and a black van, both with no distinguishing
marks.
    "Fuck," Langly growled, frantically turning the key.  
    It does not matter;  the first car was already skidding to a 
halt next to Langly's door, and the other van cruised
to a stop in front of the Gunmen's van.  
    Byers and Langly looked at each other, exchanging a fearful
glance.
    A man in a dark suit had placed himself in front of the 
windshield, pointing a large handgun directly at the two
men on the other side.  He flicked his wrist, indicating for 
them to get out.  
    Langly opened his door slowly, stepping away with his hands
in the air in surrender.  He was too scared for his mind to fully
process what was happening.  He was vaguely aware of Byers 
moving to stand next to him, and they both jumped at the sudden
pop of gunshots.  Glancing over his shoulder, Langly saw the 
first man firing into the windshield.
    Before he could figure out why, he felt something hard and
blunt come down on the back of his head.


1:40pm
Lone Gunmen Headquarters
 
    "Where the hell are they?" Frohike muttered to himself, 
starting to worry in earnest about his roommates.  He glanced
at his watch, then turned back to his computer.
    The phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts.  He jumped
to answer it;  "Lone Gunmen."
    "Frohike, it's Mulder.  How's the analysis going?"
    "Hey, man.  Uh, I finished it about an hour ago...sorry, the
boys seem to have gone joyriding without checking in with 
me."
    "What?  Never mind; you can explain when we get there."
    "Okay," Frohike responded, hanging up.


2:04pm

    "This isn't like them;  they said it would only take a few 
minutes, and they've been gone over four hours..." Frohike
paced nervously as Mulder glanced over the files.
    "Did they bring a cell phone with them?" Scully asked.
    "No, they left it on Langly's desk."
    Scully caught Mulder's eye, then made a decision.  "All
right, we're going out there to see what's going on."


Location Unknown
2:36pm

    Langly slowly became aware of his surroundings.  He
detected an echo, suggesting a closed room.  The sound of
his own breathing bounced back to him, too loud for the 
pain shooting into his temple.  
    Groaning softy, he rolled onto his side, forcing his eyes
open.  Another sharp stab in his head as light hits his pupils.
    "Fuck..." he whispered, forcing back the sudden urge to
vomit.  
    Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked around.  A fair
sized room, about the same as the office, only empty.  Dark
gray walls--cement?  He stepped closer, pressing a hand to a
wall.  Hissing, he pulled back;  metal, probably steel.  Very, 
very cold.  
    Suddenly very glad he had kept his light jacket on before,
he pulled the thin material tight around him and crossed his
arms over his chest.  He struggled to remember how he had
gotten here...'the van, black cars...broken glass, gunshots...
Byers;  oh, shit--'
    "Byers?" he asked out loud, not expecting any response.
He got the dull echo of his own voice, but nothing else.
    He leaned his back against the cold wall and slowly slid
down until he was sitting.  Pulling his knees up to his chest,
he wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead
on his knees.  He was alone, his head hurt...and he was 
scared.


Highway
2:45pm

    "Guys, take a look at this," Scully called to Mulder and 
Frohike, who were checking out the back of the abandoned
van.
    Mulder walked around to the front, where Scully was carefully
inspecting the broken glass of the windshield.  She tossed 
him a worried look;  "These are gunshots," she told him
quietly.
    He nodded in agreement, moving to the driver's side.  "I
don't see any blood, though," he said.
    "What the hell happened out here?" Frohike asked, more
to himself than to the agents.  
    "I don't know, but we'd better get the local PD in on this,"
Mulder replied reluctantly.  
    Scully nodded, pulling her cell phone out of her coat pocket.


Location unknown
6:42pm

"SHE WENT AWAY FOR THE HOLIDAYS
SAID SHE'S GOING TO LA
BUT SHE NEVER GOT THERE...
SHE NEVER GOT THERE...
SHE NEVER GOT THERE, THEY SAY--YAYY
THE KKK TOOK MY BABY AWAY...."

    Ignoring the pain in his head, Langly did the only thing he
can think of that annoyed everyone around him...he sang.  
    Screaming out the lyrics to the first Ramomes song that came
to mind, he focused on the sound, and singing out of tune.  It
kept his mind off the fact that he had to urinate, and hopefully
would get the attention of whoever was keeping him locked in this
freezing room.  


10:17pm

"twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours ago.....
I wanna be sedated.
Nothing to do, nowhere to go...
I wanna be sedated...."

    Several hours into his distracted singing marathon, Langly 
realized he was losing his voice rapidly.  
    While trying to remember the second verse, the door to the room
suddenly opened.  Two men and a woman, all in lab coats, entered
silently, looking at their stunned keep in a range of disgust to near
sympathy.  
    With a shy glance to her cohorts, the woman stepped forward
toward Langly, who remained sitting with his back to the wall.
    "Mr. Langly, we are sorry for this unfortunate incarceration,"
she spoke with a soft Russian accent.  "I am sure you are already
aware that we are with the Project;  our original intention was to
take only John Byers, last night.  He evaded us, but we suspected
that he would return to the accident scene.  We did not expect him
to bring you along, however."
    "What are you doing with Byers?" Langly cut in with a hoarse
rasp.  
    Again, she turned to her fellow doctors, speaking a sentence
in Russian.  Turning back to Langly, she answered,  "You two are
friends of Agent Mulder of the FBI.  Mr. Mulder is aware of our 
continuing work; our work to find a way to fight the black oil.
We have made a breakthrough, but because of our need for deep
cover, we cannot simply tell him this news.  
    "We have infected Mr. Byers with the black oil," she explained.
Langly's eyes grew wide and he opens his mouth to cut in again,
but she continued quickly.  "Like I have said, we have made an
important step in our work.  Mr. Byers will be all right in a few
days;  however, we cannot risk exposing ourselves to your 
friends in the FBI.  We will bring Mr. Byers here in a few hours,
then we must leave.  Your friends will be notified of your location
when we are confident that we cannot be followed.  You must 
tell Mulder to take a sample of your friend's blood; it will have 
the answers he is seeking."
    Langly waited for her to explain further, but she did not.  
Despite his fear and confusion, he knew they would not answer
any of his questions.  With an exasperated sigh, he finally
said, "Would you guys at least let me use a bathroom?"


Lone Gunmen Headquarters
10:30pm

    "Yeah, I know," Frohike muttered into the phone, frustrated.
    "The police searched the van, *we* searched the van," Mulder
continued, equally frustrated.  "There weren't even any bullets
from the shots through the window.  We have absolutely no leads,
and the only evidence of anything happening is the van itself."
    "Mulder, you know damn well who took them; the Syndicate
has been watching us for years.  They were just waiting for a 
slip like this--"
    "Frohike, I know how you feel.  But we can't jump to any 
conclusion, not yet.  This whole this is way too clean, too
perfect.  We just have to keep our eyes and ears open, wait
for someone to make a move."
    Frohike was ready to throw the phone across the room, but 
instead just mumbled "thanks," and hung up.
    He got up and began to pace around the office, not knowing
what to do with himself.  Mulder and Scully were working with 
the police on the van.  He had spent all evening listening to the
police scanners, hacking into all the local hospital computers
for any trace of his friends.  Tired, frustrated, and very 
worried, he just wanted some answers. 
    The office was too quiet with only him to keep watch.


DAY 3
Location Unknown
3:54am

    Langly was roused out of a light sleep by the sound of the 
door opening again.  He had tried to stay awake, knowing that
not only did he have a concussion, he was also in a room that 
was close to freezing tempterature.  If he allowed himself to 
sleep, he may not be able to wake up.
    Two men in suits, one of them Langly recognized as the one
who shot out the windshield of the van, entered.  Between them
they supported an unconscious John Byers.
    Langly jumped to his feet, but was stopped in his tracks by
a sharp glare from the formidable looking man on the left.
    They dragged the limp form into the room and gracelessly
dumped him onto the floor, then left.  Langly heard the hollow
echo of the lock being slid into place.
    Langly rushed across the room and dropped to his knees
beside where his friend lay crumpled on the cold steel floor.
Byers was on his right side, his face hidden under his left 
arm.  Carefully, Langly moved the arm aside to look at the
older man's face.  He was very pale, his shallow breathing
barely fogging the metal pressed against his cheek.
    Trying to think of what to do, Langly pressed his fingers
to Byers' throat, finding a weak but steady pulse.  Byers
was still in the clothes from earlier; the sleeves of the 
white dress shirt rolled up to reveal bruised skin around 
injection marks, his vest unbuttoned, his tie hanging loosely
from his neck.  
    Relieved that Byers was alive, if only barely, Langly sat
back, crossing his legs under him.
    "Well, John, looks like it's just you and me," he said out
loud, his voice obscenely loud in the hollow echo of the 
room.  


9:25am

    "*Oh*, yeah;  I could definitely go for some coffee about 
now," Langly said, rubbing his hands over his arms in an attempt
to keep himself warm.  He did not know what else to do, so he
just kept talking; to himself, or to Byers, who still had not moved
since his arrival.  
    "Soon as Mulder gets us out of here, I'm taking you out for
some coffee;  I'm buying, even.  What do you say?"
    Byers remained silent.
    "Well, anyway.  Frohike's probably totally freaked right now.
He probably called Mulder, and they're looking for us.  
    "Those doctors said they'd tell Mulder where we are, so I 
guess we just have to sit tight, huh?"
    

3:04pm

    "Byers, you better say something soon, man.  I've been in here
for over twenty-four hours, talking to myself.  It kind of wears
on the vocal cords, ya know?"
    Langly leaned over, gently shaking Byers' arm.  "Come on, damn
it!  Wake up!!"
    Not getting any response, Langly sighed.  He reached down with 
his right hand, using the backs of his fingers to check the other
man's forehead for tempterature.  He was not surprised to find that
Byers was also freezing, but not yet showing signs of hypothermia.
    Knowing that he had the advantage of mobility, Langly quickly
stripped off his jacket and draped it over Byers' upper body.
Having done that, he stood up and began pacing to keep himself
warm.


11:14pm

    Langly caught himself with his hands when his legs suddenly
gave out and he collapsed to the floor.  His exhaustion, lack of 
food, being stuck in a meat locker...he was losing his ability to
focus, to remain alert.
    Taking a moment to gather his strength, he crawled over to 
where Byers was laying.  He checked the unconscious man's 
pulse; getting weaker.  
    He knew he had to keep Byers alive.
    He lay down behind Byers, pulling his body close and wrapping 
his left arm tight around the older man.  He focused on combining 
their body heat;  keeping his friend warm.  He felt better knowing 
that he was at least trying to do something to keep them both alive.
    "We're gonna be okay," he whispered.


*************
Continued in Part 2
*************