TITLE:       FALL GUY
AUTHOR:      Alison
FEEDBACK:    Please!  Xalison@excite.com or lammasday@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER:  Not mine, of course.
ARCHIVE:  Lone Gunmen Mailing List, anywhere else just ask
SPOILERS: Nope
PAIRING:  Jimmy/Yves:  but nothing happens, honestly!
RATING:   PG
SUMMARY:  Yves is acting suspiciously, and Jimmy has to find out 
why.

.......................

November 5
Morning, Lone Gunmen HQ


It had all started as such a promising day.

Jimmy had been left alone in the Lone Gunmen's HQ, fully in charge, for 
the first time.  With Frohike on vacation, and Langly spending a couple 
of days with fellow hackers intent on breaking the registration codes 
for the new Windows XP, he had expected Byers at least to still be there.  
But Byers had received a telephone call early that morning, from a 
woman who refused to give Jimmy her name;  and Byers had got as 
excited as Jimmy had ever seen him and hastily made arrangements for a 
meeting, refusing to say where he was going.  

"You'll be okay, Jimmy, there's  nothing urgent to do today.  Why don't 
you look through some of our back issues, try and get a feel for what 
makes a good story?"  And Byers was gone before Jimmy could ask him 
anything else. 

Jimmy decided he was going to make the most of this day.  He would 
show the guys he was worthy of being one of their number.  He wouldn't 
let them down.  

When the buzzer sounded and he checked the monitor, it was with a 
mixture of pleasure and disappointment.  Yves!  He never knew what to 
say to her;  she always looked at him like something she'd scraped off 
her shoe.  But then she treats the other guys like that too, he consoled 
himself as he went to let her in.

She stalked past him as always, like a pedigree cat.  He half expected 
her to swish her tail.

"Why, Jimmy, all alone?  Have the boys left you in charge?"

He was determined not to rise to her bait.  "Yeah, why not?  They trust 
*me*."

She raised one perfect arched eyebrow and slid onto a nearby stool.  
"My, my.  Touchy aren't you."

"Can I help you, Yves?"

"Not really.  This is just a social call, you could say."

"Er  . . . that's nice."

"Oh, you know  . . . I just happened to be in the neighborhood.  I have 
to make a telephone call, I may have to go and meet someone."

Jimmy's mind spun.   He knew the Gunmen probably wouldn't allow this.  
Calls could be traced, couldn't they?  Yves was bound to be up to 
something.  But Yves was way ahead of him. 

"It's allright Jimmy, I don't want to use your phone.  I know you boys 
record all the calls anyway.  I'll use my cellphone."

Jimmy didn't see how he could refuse.  Yves produced her phone and 
retreated as far as she could to the door, making it clear she expected 
privacy.  Jimmy tried to pretend he was checking his email, but he 
couldn't help overhearing what Yves was saying.

"May I speak to Mr Long please? . . . Oh, tell him it's Dee.  Dee 
Varlley O'Shaw. Yes, that's right.  Two "l"s in Varley."

"Oh, hello, Peter . . . do you have it?  I'm ready  . . . yes . . . 
where do you want to meet?  Somewhere quiet, where no-one will see us  . . . yes, I 
can be there by 2 pm . . .  are you sure no-one saw you?

Jimmy crept closer.  Yves seemed to have forgotten he was there.

"Yes, I can hide it in the trunk of my car till this evening  . . . 
then we just have to smuggle it into the Residence . . . what about the other stuff?  
Did you get it past the explosives detectors at the Embassy?"

Jimmy took a deep breath, feeling nauseous with disbelief and panic.  
What was Yves up to this time?  He strained his ears to hear what Yves 
was saying.  He heard her telling her contact exactly where she would 
meet him, later that afternoon.

Jimmy's heart was racing, so hard he couldn't hear himself think.  What 
should he do?  Why did all the other Gunmen have to be away now of all 
times?  In his confusion he didn't realise Yves had finished her call 
and was speaking to him.  

"Jimmy, I have to go now . . . thanks for everything."

===000===

Near Washington
1.50 pm


When the door had slammed shut behind Yves he had panicked 
momentarily, then as if by magic, "What would Byers do?"  had appeared 
in his brain.  Jimmy knew what Byers would do;  which was why he was 
now lying uncomfortably on the ground under some bushes at a picnic 
area about ten miles outside Washington, equipped with a digital 
camera, complete with telephoto lens, and giving thanks that Frohike had showed 
him how to use it only the week before.  The car was hidden in some 
woodland a short distance away.  

He had the right time;  he was in the right place.  Now he was waiting 
for Yves to put in an appearance.  Yves  . . . and who else?

Shortly before 2 pm a car came slowly down the track to the picnic 
area.  Not Yves!  It must be her contact.  Jimmy got the camera ready.  A 
short, stocky, balding man got out and looked around carefully.  Jimmy quickly 
took a couple of pictures, one close up of the man and one of the car 
showing the number plate.  

Yves was late;  it was 2.15 before her car made an appearance.  She 
parked as close as possible to the first car, got out and walked over 
to the other man with a broad smile on her face.  Jimmy was amazed;  he had 
never seen the ice-cool Yves look so pleased.  He was even more 
astonished when she hugged the other man warmly and kissed him on the 
cheek.

They stood talking for a few minutes, then Yves walked round to the 
trunk of her car and opened it, while the stranger did the same to his.  He 
leaned in and straightened up, carrying a long, obviously heavy bundle wrapped in 
a blanket.  The thought flashed into Jimmy's mind:  "It looks like a 
body! 

No, it can't be!"

The stranger turned slightly towards where Jimmy was hidden and he got 
a better view.  

Long curly brown hair hung down below the blanket at one end of the 
bundle;  at the other end, a pair of battered shoes protruded stiffly.  

Oh god.  It *is* a body!

The stranger dumped the body in the trunk of Yves' car and they stood 
looking down at it.  Yves was smiling.  

The man closed the trunk for her and the two of them stood there, 
casually talking as if they did this every day.  The stranger said 
something to make Yves throw back her head and laugh.

Jimmy put his head down on the ground.  Oh god, Yves, what have you 
done?

When he looked up the area was deserted.  Yves and the stranger were 
gone.

Jimmy lay there a while longer, feeling sick and dizzy.  What should he 
do?  Yves was devious, yes, and self-centred and ruthless.  But this?  
Murder?  Or at the least, an accessory to a murder?  Oh god, if only 
the boys were here!  Think, Jimmy, think!

Then it was like a blinding light burst over him.  There was one other 
person who could help him.  *If* he would help him.

===000===


Later
Kimmy's place

Kimmy leaned back in his chair and sneered.  "What's the magic word?"

Jimmy sighed.  He knew the answer to this one.  He gave thanks that 
Langly wasn't there to hear him.

"Your kung fu is the best."

Kimmy smirked complacently.  "Okay, Jimbo.  Watch and learn."

Kimmy was good, Jimmy had to admit that.  With the pictures Jimmy had 
taken, and the car number plate, it didn't take him long.  

"Okay, kid . . . here's your mystery man.  Peter Long  . . . yeah, he's 
another Brit.  Top gun, First Secretary at the British Embassy.  What 
do you want him for?"

Jimmy floundered.  "Uh  . . . the guys wanted me to keep tabs on Yves.  
No special reason, they just think she's been too quiet, she must be up 
to something."

Kimmy snorted and turned back to his monitor.  He didn't even notice 
when Jimmy left.


===000===

Lone Gunmen HQ

He dialed Yves' number.  "Yves?  It's Jimmy.  I need to talk to you.  
Can you come over?"


===000===

Later

"Yves, I know what's happening. "

Yves was furious.  "Jimmy,what I do is none of your business.  You had 
no right to follow me, and you haven't a clue what's really happening 
here."

"I know you've got a body in the trunk of your car!"

Yves turned her head towards him, a curious expression of annoyance 
and condescension on her face.  "It's only a guy, Jimmy."

"How can you say that!  Someone is dead and you're driving round with 
the body in the trunk of your car!  Yves, for gossakes, you can't do 
this!"

A frown disturbed the English woman's flawless face.  "Like I said, 
Jimmy, it's just a guy.  I'm dealing with it, okay?"

Jimmy looked out of the window, completely confused.  "I don't believe 
this is happening!"

Yves leaned over and patted his arm.  "Look, you don't have to worry, 
Jimmy. In fact, you can help me."

"What?"

"You can help me.  I need someone strong to carry it."

"B-but -"

"You'll see, Jimmy.  Just trust me, you'll see it'll be okay.  Come on, 
we haven't got much time."

===000===

In the car Jimmy's mind was racing.  What should he do, on his own 
without the other Gunmen to help?  Come on, Jimmy, think!  What would 
Byers do?  At least try and talk to Yves, find out what she's up to.

"Um . . . Yves, where are we going?"

"To the British Ambassador's Residence."

===000===

A short while later they stopped outside a large house behind a high 
wall, on a street in the oldest, smartest part of Georgetown.  Yves 
produced her phone and dialled.

"Mike?  It's Dee here.  Dee Varlley O'Shaw.  Yes, Mr Long's friend.  
I'm outside, can you let me in?"

A gate in the wall creaked open and Yves drove in.  A small shabby 
looking man, who looked like he might have been the gardener, 
immediately closed the gates behind them and hurried up to the car.  He spoke to 
Yves through the car window.  

"Everything's ready, miss  . . . a grand fire we're going to have.  
He'll burn right well, so he will.  Is this young lad going to help us put him on 
the fire?"

Jimmy whimpered.  He felt like he was in a nightmare.  What was 
happening?  It was too late for him to get out.  He was sure to be 
arrested as an accessory to the crime.  Murder?  Concealing a murder?  Helping 
dispose of a body?  He fought down the rising wave of panic.

The little man was still talking to Yves.  "Yes, Mr Long brought the 
other stuff over a while ago."  He pointed in the direction of the house 
porch, where a large crate was just visible, clearly marked "Danger - 
Explosives."

Jimmy put his head in his hands.  What would Byers do now?

But Yves was tapping him on the shoulder.  "Come on Jimmy, we need 
you to help."  She was opening the trunk of the car.  "Come on, you 
take his shoulders and I'll take his legs."

But they were interrupted by high pitched shrieks from close by.  
Several children of various sizes raced round the side of the house towards 
them, screaming in delight. "Dee!  Auntie Dee!"  and piled on Yves like so 
many puppies.  

"Dee!  Dee!  Did you get it?"

"Yes, come and see  . . it's in the trunk.  And this is Jimmy, he's 
going to help us."

Jimmy felt something tug his sleeve and looked down.  The smallest of 
the children, an angelically blonde little girl, was looking up at him.   
He bent down.  She whispered gleefully, "We're going to BURN him!"

Jimmy felt nauseous.  How could Yves involve children in this?  Was it 
some kind of satanic ritual?

Yves was pulling the concealing blanket off the body.  Jimmy's jaw 
dropped. 

"It's a dummy!"

"Well of course it's a dummy, Jimmy!"

One of the older boys snickered.  "Who's the dummy?"

Yves ignored him and turned back to Jimmy.  "Like I said, it's a Guy, 
Jimmy.  Guy Fawkes?  Tonight is Guy Fawkes night, we're having a 
party here for the children of the Embassy staff.  It's a surprise, 
which is why I met Peter secretly this afternoon.  You didn't really believe it 
was a body, did you?"

"I don't know!  I don't know anything about it.  What do you want a 
dummy for?  And who the hell is Guy Fawkes?"

Yves' expression softened.  "It's a tradition, Jimmy,  Like you have
Halloween, we have Guy Fawkes.  We have a party, and fireworks, and a
bonfire, and we burn the Guy, that's the effigy of Guy Fawkes, on the
bonfire."

"Er . . . why?"

"It all happened hundreds of years ago, Jimmy.  He was a terrorist
basically, he was part of a conspiracy to blow up the Houses of 
Parliament with the King and all the Government inside.  But they stopped him in 
time; somebody talked, and they searched the place and caught him, and ever 
since we've celebrated like this."

Jimmy was interested.  Another conspiracy!  "What happened to him?"

"Oh, they tortured him till he gave the names of the others, and they 
caught them all and hanged them."  

"And this is a celebration for *kids*?"

"Yes of course, they love it.  You know how kids love anything 
gruesome.  Back home the kids make the guy, they dress it up in old clothes and 
take it out on the streets begging for money.  "Penny for the Guy", though it's 
more likely to be a pound nowadays.  They spend the money on fireworks."

Between them Jimmy and Mike carried the guy (who Jimmy could now see 
was nothing more than an assortment of old clothes stuffed with newspaper,
wearing a long curly wig and rubber fright mask) round to the back 
where a huge bonfire was ready to be lit.  With difficulty, and with constant
instructions from Yves, Jimmy got the Guy placed on top of the pile of 
wood.  Finally Yves nodded in satisfaction.  

"That looks fine  . . . though I'm pretty sure Guy Fawkes never wore a
Yankees teeshirt, 501s and Nike trainers!"

Next Jimmy found himself helping set up the fireworks, carefully 
smuggled in earlier by Peter Long, while Yves helped get the barbecue ready.  "This 
is one thing that will be better than at home  . . . I've never had a 
decent barbecue in England.  We don't have enough practice  . . it always 
rains!"

Soon the other Embassy children were arriving, screaming in delight at 
the sight of the bonfire, racing round the grounds giving every impression 
of trying to murder each other.  Last to arrive was Yves' friend Peter 
Long, with his three who confessed to being responsible for making the Guy.  
("We couldn't get the right clothes, we just had to use what we could 
find.")

Long took his first close look at the Guy.  "Hey, you little  . . 
.those are my levis!  And if that's your mum's wig  . . ."

It was getting dark, and soon it was time to light the bonfire.  Peter
wanted Yves to have the honour of lighting it, but she handed the taper 
to Jimmy.

"Go on, Jimmy, you light it."

Jimmy pushed the firelighter into the base of the fire and stood back 
as it rapidly caught, flames roaring up and licking into the night sky.  A 
cheer went up as the Guy caught fire and burned merrily.  Jimmy looked round 
at the rapt faces in the firelight, the children jumping up and down in
excitement or just staring entranced at the fire;  the adults looking 
on smiling, remembering the parties of their childhood.  

He found himself talking to Peter Long as they watched the fire take 
hold. The Englishman was keen to tell him all about the tradition.  "But I 
wonder how many people nowadays know we're burning the "wrong guy" here all 
this time."

"What's that?"

"Well, Guy Fawkes is the one we burn . . he's the one that got caught.  
But he wasn't the instigator.  He wasn't even one of the chief 
conspirators.  They were all members of the aristocracy;  but he was just a poor 
soldier, a mercenary they brought in because they needed someone who knew about
explosives.  He wasn't interested in the motives, he just did it for 
the money."

"So he was like  . . .  a fall guy?"  

Long chuckled.  "Yes  indeed, Jimmy.  I don't know if that's where the
phrase comes from, but yes.  He was the fall Guy."

Jimmy nodded.  "But people have kept the truth alive  . . . even though 
it was so long ago.  The truth has to be kept alive."

Yves came up on his other side and put her arm through his.  "Sorry 
Jimmy. I should have told you, but I couldn't resist stringing you along for a
while."

Jimmy shrugged.  "Seems like there was more than one Fall Guy here 
today."

Yves squeezed his arm, and together they watched as the rockets began 
to fill the sky with sound and light.


END

5 November 2001





**************************

"Many small people who in many small places do many small things can 
alter
the face of the world"

Graffiti on the Berlin Wall