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He was a romantic at heart, always had been, always will be.
If God had made him another foot taller, if God had given him a smaller forehead, or better fashion sense, or brighter eyes, he would be the Casanova of the hacker world; that was for sure, because no one’s Kung Fu was better than his Kung Fu.
But, Melvin Frohike knew that even if he had Fox Mulder’s height, Fox Mulder’s fashion sense, and Fox Mulder’s face, Agent Scully would still not fall in love with him.
Sometimes, when he was being cruel to himself, he liked to wonder if Agent Scully would give Mulder the time of day if Mulder were a foot shorter, with a slight potbelly, and nerdy glasses…
He liked to think that Agent Scully would still love Mulder if Mulder didn’t look like Mulder, and that she wasn’t in love with Mulder because he looked like Mulder. He liked to believe that Agent Scully never returned his very sincere advances not because of his physique but…
…but because she was already in love with Mulder when they met.
She was, he could tell.
Mulder was too, but that was a no-brainer. Everyone was a little in love with Agent Scully. Well, a little or a lot, from the virgin boy to the love-sick puppy to the pining idiot in suit to Mr. Clean to him. Five out of five, a royal flush.
Frohike heard about the dead lab tech boy and the heart-digging writer, too; everyone was in love with Agent Scully. Everyone.
He himself had never worn a tux and gotten flowers for someone after he turned 19, but he did for her. Luckily, she wasn’t awake to see it, so that didn’t count.
Frohike thought he had done it because it had to be done—but at the end of the day, he knew that wasn’t it. He did it because it was the best gift he could have given to Scully.
It was hard to conceal it from his two best friends, but Frohike knew if the plan was to work, he had to be the only one who knew. He made arrangements, created the hardest labyrinth so no one could ever pass it, and gathered all the necessary documents she would ever need to reclaim her son back.
He even made paper copies, for God’s sake, because he had to be extra careful. Frohike felt silly yet delighted while waiting at a Kinko’s in Pennsylvania, where he knew the clerk. James let him run the machines himself, and he was grateful.
He knew Mulder would be back one day, and he knew little children are to be raised by their parents; he knew what William meant to Scully, and to Mulder, and everything was up to him now.
William’s adoption will never go through the way everyone thought it would. So, when Mulder gets back, when they’re safe, when things are fine, they will be reunited again, mommy and daddy and baby.
He left information regarding this matter in his will, just in case he were to kick the bucket before everything was set right again—he was no spring chicken, after all.
He made sure William would be under the temporary guardianship of his niece Sarah, and would go by the name of Falcon Frohike. A little inside joke, he mused as he filled out the paperwork.
“Uncle Mel, this isn’t… my cousin, is it?” Sarah asked, amused, while stroking the baby’s fine red hair.
Frohike blushed. “Take good care of this baby for me, Sarah. It’ll just be for a little while.”
Of course he would do this for her. Melvin Frohike was a romantic man.
Falcon Frohike was 22 months old when he went home. Langly said not cool, man, not cool and refused to talk to Frohike for a whole week. Frohike didn’t care, he was just glad to see Scully with her 2-year-old, who now went by Malcolm William Mulder.
Not all heroes get the girl in the end—but he’s perfectly okay with that.