Damn subliminal messages.

If not for them, and their presence in the new spate of summer blockbusters, Frohike wouldn't be reduced to taking the photos they had received of an Elvis sighting to the local Qwik-Develop because the darkroom was full (who knew a story about subliminal messages could have so many visuals?) Or be forced to pick them up an hour later, like he was doing now.

He hadn't wanted to do the story about the Elvis sighting in the first place. Not that it wasn't possible for musicians to have alien ties (how else could you explain Michael Jackson and Marilyn Manson?), but it just didn't seem very ... important.

But it was either that, or a story someone had "tipped them off to" that Billy Graham was an incarnation of the Greek goddess Athena. Frohike hated slow news days even more than he hated subliminal messages.

Oh for the love of the second shooter, there was a line. For the first time in the over 40 years he had seen the inside of a Qwik-Develop, there was a line - just when he didn't need one. It was almost conspiracy-worthy.

Who knows, maybe these Elvis pictures were more impressive than he thought.

Until that could be looked into, however, all he could do to alleviate his boredom was accidentally eavesdrop on other people's conversations, a nasty habit investigative journalism tends to develop in people (or is used as an excuse for why that habit is in certain people anyway).

"Maybe I should buy the red one ..." Uh oh, shopping. Avoid this one at all costs.

"Stupid company party ..." Frohike was deeply grateful that he couldn't sympathize.

"This roll has our family reunion pictures from the ..." Boring - moving on.

"And so I snuck behind the guard fence, and there was this thing ... " Interesting, but given the teenage boys having the conversation it's probably a TV show or a naked woman. Not that there's anything wrong with naked women ...

"Nice pictures."

Huh? It took the normally sharp Frohike a moment to realize that this last comment had been directed at him, and that he had somehow moved up to the front of the line while otherwise occupied. Embarrassed that he had been caught with his mental pants down, he looked around the room quickly to see who the speaker was.

He stopped short when he discovered her. Scully?

No, it definitely wasn't Scully. That particular federal agent was taking a well deserved vacation up in Canada somewhere with Mulder and their son, Michael. But this flame-haired, blue-eyed beauty was a close enough approximation to make Frohike stare like he hadn't done since high school (okay, maybe since the last time he saw Scully).

"Would you like to have them back, sir?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your packet of pictures, the ones that I have in my hand right here. Do you want them back?"

Great - the Scully look-alike was the Qwik-Develop lady, trying to hand him back his photos and waiting only for him to come down out of the clouds and pay her so she could move on with her life. All in all, today had not been a good day for Frohike.

There was an awkward silence as he hunted through his pockets for the money.

Then, a tentative question from her. "So, do you have a theory?"

Money forgotten, Frohike looked back up at his flame-haired vision in shock. She had just used the Ultimate Lone Gunmen Pick-up Line, which was not a common occurrence for any of them.

Actually, this would probably be the first.

Noticing the expression on his face, the Scully look-alike blushed. "About whether Elvis is dead or not, I mean. I'm sorry, that's probably a silly question, but he's in so many of your photos ..."

"No, no, it's not a silly question." Keep the conversation going at all costs. "It's just that I haven't thought about it much. I help write this paper called The Lone Gunman and I need the photos for a desperation article."

She smiled, and Frohike's brain threatened to shut off completely. "The Lone Gunman? I read that."

He was in love. There was no doubt about it.

She continued. "You said there was a desperation article. Was there another option?"

Frohike looked sheepish. "Exposing Billy Graham as an incarnation of Athena."

"Ah - you definitely went with the right choice then."

Was it too soon to propose marriage? And was a Qwik-Develop filled with impatient customers a romantic enough setting?

"Would you like to see the office sometime, Miss ..." Not marriage, but close enough for now. The guys would understand - even if he had to make them.

"Jill. Jill Anderson. And I'd love to, Mr. Frohike." There went that smile again.

"Just Frohike." He decided to work in his last few moments staring while she was ringing him up.

"By the way," Yes! She wanted to continue talking. "I've been hearing some stuff about subliminal messages in movies. What are your opinions on that?"

Frohike couldn't have stopped grinning even if he wanted to. "Oh, I like them. I like them a lot."