Title: "Hours on End"
Author: Angela W.
Summary: Yves thinks of the words Jimmy used when she
visited him in prison. Told in first person, Yves'
Spoilers: Takes place immediately after the Texas
prison ep of "The Lone Gunmen"
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. They
belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.
Archive: Feel free to archive anywhere.
Feedback: If it's nice or contains *constructive*
criticism, feedback is valued.
I've always valued men for their intelligence. That's
simply part of who I am, as much of what forms my
essential character as my own intelligence or my dark
hair. I'm not one to be turned on by a sexy smile or a
good-looking body if the mind within has an I.Q. only
in the double-digits.
Or so I've always told myself. Lately, though, I find
myself spending a lot of time with four very different
men. Three of them are highly intelligent, but I don't
feel any kind of romantic urges toward them. I've told
myself there are reasons for this. Frohike's old
enough to be my father, for God's sake. Langley is -
even by the standards of the computer geek culture I'm
a part of - just plain weird. Byers is is more normal
than Langley and younger than Frohike and the only one
of them who doesn't openly gawk at my breasts or my
butt. I like him better than the other two, but it's
"liking" strictly in a platonic sense; he told me once
that he has four younger sisters and I think that's
the way he looks upon me - as yet another little
sister he needs to look out for. If I had a big
brother, I'd want him to be like Byers.
Then there's Jimmy. Jimmy is, quite frankly, stupid.
Well, maybe that's not exactly true. He's no genius,
but he's not *really* a moron. He's just gullible and
easily influenced. And. . .sweet. He's definitely a
In addition to being overly trusting and
nice-natured, Jimmy's good-looking. I don't mean
drop-dead-gorgeous, but certainly better than average.
He's rich, too. Sometimes I wonder how it is he's
still walking around unattached. He's about my age -
late 20s - and a woman could do a lot worse than a
good-looking, kindhearted, wealthy husband, even if he
is a bit of an intellectual lightweight. I mean, if
she were a different kind of woman than I am, of
That scene in the prison visiting room was certainly
an experience. It took him a minute to understand what
I was doing, as I knew it would. But once he realized
what part he was supposed to play, he really ran with
it. I'm surprised by how much he got into it. "Making
love for hours on end". . .sheesh!
What surprised me more - although I'd never admit
this to anyone - was how much I got into it myself.
I've always been acerbic and sharp-tongued. To be -
just for a few minutes - the kind of woman who smiled
at her incarcerated "husband" and promised to maintain
a stand-by-her man loyalty was sort of nice.
I roll over, trying to find a cool spot on the motel
room pillow. "Hours on end", my foot! He couldn't
really do that.
Or could he?
Author's e-mail addy: firstname.lastname@example.org