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

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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."

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."

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