Classification: TRHA

Rating: R for some sex, but not disgusting.

Spoilers: None here.

Summary: Moving forward here. New jobs, new relationships...
 

Gratia Placendi

"Lead me well, don't clear my way
Fascinating how the pallor can stay upon your face
When you are light like a little boy
Flying kites and shouting to the world
You're shouting to the world your joy
Don't fade, you're staying here with me..."

"Don't Fade" by Glen Phillips and Toad the Wet Sprocket Copyright 1997 Sony Music/Used without permission.
 

July 13, 1999
Allison's house

I've always said that deaf services is a small world. Upon interviewing with Joanna Gilfillan at Catholic University, I discovered that in spite of her being on the opposite coast, she knew Andy Goldberg, my boss in LA, and she apparently respected him enough to offer me the job after a phone call to him. I was enormously relieved, to say the least, to have the prospect of income, but we were still going to have to be cautious; the position didn't begin until the fall semester started in late August. I was also looking at an income half the size of the one I had been given at the FBI. But the hours were better, and I was going to enjoy being back in academia.

Miranda was pleased as well; she had been resentful of the hours I put in at the FBI, and while she probably would have liked the benefits that came with a larger salary, she expressed enormous relief at not having to spend so much time apart.

It was a steamy Tuesday afternoon; Miranda was exhausted from the previous day, having spent over twelve hours at Kings Dominion with the Gunmen, and was curled up on the sofa watching "Scream" while I pored over my Latin and Greek texts. I had been away from the classics for a while, and I needed to get up to speed again. I had no desire to delve into the military horrors of Caesar while Drew Barrymore was being gutted onscreen, so I was in my room upstairs, enjoying the air conditioning. The sky had been threatening rain all afternoon, and thunderstorms were predicted. I was still having trouble getting used to this rain in summertime thing. It was just all wrong.

The phone rang around late afternoon, and I managed to grab it before Miranda could seize it. Male voice on the other end.

"Langly?"

Really fake Jeopardy buzzer sound indicating a wrong answer. "No, try again."

"Hey, Mulder. Didn't know you considered Jeopardy appropriate viewing."

"I don't, but that's only because I can beat any of the contestants."

"Liar. Hey, how are you? How's Dana?"

"Scully's great. She's feeling a lot better, and she definitely looks the part." God, you could hear the guy beaming through the phone.

"Cool. Tell Dana we'll get together and yak sometime soon."

"She'd like that, we've just been kinda busy this past week. We're trying to hire some more help for our...department."

"That's great. Anybody you like?"

"Yeah, we've got it narrowed down to a few finalists. We expect to crown Miss America and her first runner up any day now."

"That's great."

"Hey, got a job for you, Allison."

"Mulder, I already got a job. Yesterday."

"Hey, that's great, but when do you start?"

"23rd of August. Catholic U. Classics department grad student. I'm really excited."

"Great, then you shouldn't have any problem with this."

I love Mulder dearly, but sometimes his presumptuousness irks me. "What do you want now, Mulder?"

"How long would it take you to get someone up to speed on sign language?"

"Define 'up to speed.'"

"Able to carry on a conversation."

"Depends on the conversation. Also on the person. Assuming we're not talking someone in the single digit IQ range, basic conversation would be possible after about ten hours of instruction, with practice in between."

"What about technical speech?"

"Mulder, that takes time. I mean, even Dana, who has made a superhuman effort and is extraordinarily intelligent, is still working on that."

"But you could get them up and running in a couple of weeks."

"That I could. What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, we'd like you to come in and work with our new agents, get them signing, make it easier for all of us."

"Okay. You do understand that I'm not in a position to do freebies at this point in time, however."

"Wouldn't expect you to. We've put in a req for that already."

"I hope Dana did the paperwork."

"Of course Scully did the paperwork. We want this req to go through." We both laughed. Mulder's inability/unwillingness to do paperwork--which is copious in any government organization--was legendary. "We put in for 45 an hour. Can you live with that?"

"Think Skinner will bitch?"

"Probably, but more importantly, he'll okay it."

"Hey, you got yourself an interpreter."

"Great. Scully really misses working with you."

"I miss hanging with her, too. I even miss you making a pest of yourself."

"Allison, you wound me."   I could see the hurt puppy look at the other end of the line.

"No, I'll leave that for Dana. I don't do guns." We laughed again. Bantering with Mulder was a trip.

"By the way, we will get thank you notes out soon for the gifts. We really appreciated them all."

"Hey, don't worry about that."

"No, I have to. If I don't, Scully has a gun, and she's a better shot than I am."

"So I hear." We laughed some more. "By the way Mulder, I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you guys the day I got laid off. I just needed to chill out. I was really scared when it happened."

"And pissed off to boot. Which any reasonable person would be. I know I would."

"Mulder, you said 'reasonable people.'

"Allison, beneath this lunatic exterior beats the heart of a reasonable man."

"Fooled me."

"And damn near everyone else, too. Hey, we still need to talk about all that's going on. I know Scully really wants to hook up with you soon. Maybe later this week?"

"Let me know what's up then. And Mulder, thanks a lot. It'll be fun to work with you guys again."

"Yeah. So Allison, what's this I hear about you taking total leave of your senses and hooking up with Langly?"

"God, news travels fast in these parts, doesn't it?"

"Hey, even if Byers and Frohike had been dead and buried by then--which is the only way they would have kept quiet, by the way--you were a little obvious there, girl."

"Unfortunately, I've always been pretty transparent. Keeping my heart on my sleeve and all that."

"Hey, I think it's great. I know you really loved your husband, and it's got to be hard to be alone. God knows I don't think I'd survive if I ever lost Scully."

"Well, Mulder, I wasn't expecting it to happen, particularly not so soon, but I love him."

"Allison, I think he's been in love with you since he made his first JAP joke on you."

"That was five minutes after he met me."

"He's a slow learner." I laughed when I realized that this was a compliment coming from Mulder, and his happiness for us was genuine.

"Mulder, you know what it's like? It's like having been dead and being brought back to life. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not."

"Believe me, I know more of the truth in that than I ever could have imagined." He spoke very softly. "I'm glad it didn't take you as long to figure it out as it did for me and Scully."

"I think you guys figured it out long ago. I think you just took your sweet time acting on it."

"Maybe. But you guys, I hope you're as happy as me and Scully."

"Thank you." And I meant it.

"Besides, Langly needs a hobby."

We both laughed over that one. "Mulder, go do some work for a change."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I see Dana's got you trained."

"As you said, she's a better shot than me."

"Bye, Mulder!"

"See ya soon, Allison."

***

Miranda had wandered up to my room. "Who was that?"

"Mulder."

"What does he want now?"

"Hey, that was my line. He wants me to do some work for him and Dana."

"Mom, you just got a new job. I can't believe you'd just go and go back to work at the FBI, and I hate it!"

"Hey, relax. One, it's only temporary, and it's only going to be a couple hours a day for a few weeks. Two, they're actually giving me money to do it, and that means we can relax a little."

"Like take a vacation?"

"Maybe a short one. We can talk about that more."

"Okay, I can live with that. Is Langly coming over tonight?"

"Probably, if he finishes his work."

"Well, if he's going to show up here late at night, at least get him a damn key. The doorbell freaks me out!"

Okay. Maybe she was going to accept his presence in my life.

Her eyes moved to my hands. "Mom, you moved your rings."

"My what? Oh yeah, I did." I hadn't given them much thought in recent days, but I glanced down to find my wedding rings comfortably ensconced on my right hand. It was a sweet reminder of what had been--and left the future wide open to extreme possibilities.

***

I returned to studying Latin--I was really going to have to work to get back up to speed on things, particularly since I was working graduate courses. I could not believe how slowly I was translating.

I vaguely heard the doorbell ring, and since Miranda was downstairs and I was up, I let her deal with it.

"Mom! Some loser here looking for a free meal!"

"Langly, is that you?"

"Was it the loser part or the free meal part that tipped you off?" he called back.

I ran down the stairs to find him and my daughter taunting and sucker punching each other. I wasn't sure who was the more mature of the two, but I would probably have given Miranda a slight edge. I swept him into my arms and we fell into a deep, delicious kiss.

"You two really are disgusting," Miranda shook her head and stalked off.

We parted mouths for a moment. I smiled at him and whispered, "If this is disgusting, let's move on to downright gross." That got me one of those fabulous smiles and he pressed his mouth against mine again. We didn't let go for a while.

I just stood there, breathing him in, just basking in kissing and being kissed. I leaned my head up against his heart, listening to the rhythm, taking in his scent. He buried his face in my hair and said those three words I'd gotten rapidly used to hearing:

"Ally, I'm starving."

"Langly, when aren't you hungry?" I chuckled. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his forehead. "Baked mostaccioli. In an hour."

"With garlic bread?"

"With garlic bread."

"Cool."

"In the meantime, we need to take a trip."

"A trip? I just did the Metro. At rush hour even!"

"Okay, I need to take a trip."

"Where?"

"The hardware store. You'll need a key."

That merited a big smile.

***

"Hey, I've got pictures," Langly announced as we were finishing dinner.

"Let me see first!" Miranda demanded.

"Fine, get the backpack, I'll get 'em out. I hope they didn't get crushed on the Metro."

"Langly, why don't you just get a car?" Miranda chided.

"Trying to get the money together for one, but we have a lot of expenses, and unlike Mulder & Scully, we don't get to expense things."

"You've got the van," she pointed out.

"Yeah, and it's all of ours, and I can't just take off with it. Besides, it's full of a lot of expensive...stuff."

"What sort of stuff?" Miranda was feeling very pushy this evening.

"Stuff you don't need to see," I assured her.

"Probably make porn flicks in it."

"We wish. At least Frohike does," Langly laughed at her. "So do you wanna look at the pictures, or do you wanna spend the rest of the evening dissing me?"

"Do I have to choose?" she whined.

"C'mon, show me your day at the park," I urged. The three of us moved to the sofa, Langly in the middle, Miranda and I flanking him.

There were pictures of Byers, way too nicely (not to mention warmly) dressed for a day of sun and thrill rides. Pictures of Frohike leering at sweet young things. Pictures of Langly leaning against posts, cartoon characters, drink kiosks. Pictures of Miranda with all of them, with some of them, lots of laughing, smiling faces on the four of them.

"I made Byers take this one," Langly offered up one of him smearing some white lotion on his skin.

"Well, at least you remembered your SPF 9000," I laughed.

"And I wanted evidence so that you wouldn't hassle me if I got burned again."

"You were good," I assured him. "You actually don't look much pinker than you did yesterday."

"I'm more medium rare than well done at this point." He pulled up one of Frohike dressed in the most butt-ugly hat I had ever seen. It was canary yellow, wide-brimmed, and had the words "Kings Dominion" embroidered on it.

"Oh my God," I moaned.

"We tried to lose him when he bought that hat."

"You know, Langly, he's more of a fashion victim than even you," Miranda assured him.

"Miranda, you're a butt munch."

"At least I can dress," she shot back. "And I tan way better than you."

"Everybody tans better than me. Except maybe your mom and Scully and Byers."

"Hey, I bet I could out-tan Mulder."

"Mulder's pretty dark. He'd be a challenge," I warned her.

"Yeah, but he doesn't get out much. He's got that pasty I-spend-all-my-time-in-the-office look."

"I'd be careful about putting him up to it," Langly warned. "He'd lie out for a week just to beat you."

"So if I got more tan than Mulder this summer, what would I get?"

"You'd have the pleasure of telling Mulder you beat him," Langly told her.

"That's it?!"

"You got it."

"How rude. Langly, can I keep some of these?"

"Hey, this is your set. I have more back at the office."

"Cool. Mom, I'm outta here. I'm walking over to Sarah's."

"Bye."

When Miranda had taken off, Langly shifted from sitting next to me to lying down with his head in my lap. I took off his glasses and stroked his blonde hair gently.

"I'm always looking down at you 'cause you're so short. I wanted to see you from a different angle," he explained.

"So what do you think about the view from here?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. I think I need a clearer field of vision," he murmured, starting to move his slender hand up to my breast. My nipples were already engorged. He had the most beautiful touch. I leaned over and kissed him. He moved up my shirt and began to move his mouth over each breast. I slid my hands under his shirt and ran my fingers over his back.

We heard a crack of thunder in the distance.

"Miranda gonna be okay?" he murmured, barely lifting his mouth from me.

"Sarah's in the complex. Thirty seconds if you walk slow," I was having a hard time getting these two short sentences out.

"Let's take this upstairs."

"I'll go along with that."

Then he stood up, and instead of waiting for me to stand up with him and slip our arms around each other, which was our usual MO for getting up the stairs, he grabbed underneath me and lifted me up.

"You're going to kill your back," I warned.

"Ah, you're not that heavy," he smiled. "Besides, I've always wanted to try this, and I've never been with anyone small enough."

We were giggling as we moved up the stairs and into my room. As we laid down on the bed as a single entity, there was a louder, closer clap of thunder and a sharp streak of lightning across the sky. Summer storm. Weird.

We started to peel each other's clothes off, slowly, and interspersed each garment with a long, deep set of kisses. He was now only slightly pink from last week's adventures and the dead skin was peeling away, leaving the new skin underneath unbelievably soft. I pulled him on top of me, wanting to feel his weight and softness.

More thunder, and the next flash of lightning brought a torrent of rain that hammered sharply on the roof.

I moved my hands over his backside, enjoying the smooth skin, the soft hair, and the feeling of his weight bearing down on me. His eyes, normally the blue of a shallow swimming pool, were dark navy with passion now.

"You are beautiful," I whispered.

"Your standards are low," he teased.

"Nope."

"I'm not crushing you, am I?"

"No, babe, I love it. You feel wonderful."

"So I'm your babe?"

I pulled his head down and ran my hands through his whitish hair. "Most definitely."

"Mmm. I like that. I've never been anyone's babe before."

"Well, now you are."

"Mmm. You are so tiny and so perfect." His voice was growing hoarser now.

"And you are beautiful. And don't argue with me."

He was smiling, not speaking. Eyes dark, hair askew, skin slightly damp. I breathed in the mildly musky odor of male-in-throes-of-passion. He hit my senses from every angle. I found myself unable to keep from moving beneath him.

"Ally, say it," he begged.

"I want you inside me, Langly. Now."

He slipped himself into my opening, and we moved, trying to make the sensation last.   Pretty soon, though, we were in that place where light and darkness come together and explode in that exquisitely blissful torture. I watched his face, hovering near the edge of pain and pleasure, and he breathed my name, and me his.

I spooned myself around him, stroking the flossy hair and breathing him in. He was breathing regularly, slowly now.

"You going to fall asleep on me again?" I whispered.

"Mmm. Probably." He sounded so young and so vulnerable. I wrapped my arms tightly around his chest. "Love you." It came out in a sleepy whisper.

"Love you very much," I responded softly, kissing the mane of hair that was flowing wildly about.

We were cuddling, not speaking, when the I heard the door swing open.

"Mom! Langly! Are you where I think you are?"

Langly turned over to face me and smiled tenderly. "Busted again."

***

The storm lapsed for a time. I went back to my Latin, and Langly decided to check out some new stuff on the Web. Miranda had brought her friend Sarah back with her--Sarah claimed she was suffering from an overdose of younger brother being in her face, and could she stay? Having grown up with three younger brothers, I had more than a passing familiarity with the sensation and agreed to her spending the night. They prepared a teenage feast of popcorn and ice cream to accompany the horror movies they had taken from Sarah's, and were very happy that we were spending the evening in our bedroom (wait a minute, when did it become "our bedroom"?).

It was almost 11:45 when I decided that any further attempts to translate Caesar were bound to inspire suicidal tendencies, and I went over to the computer where Langly was happily tapping away.

"Anything interesting?"

"Nah, just surfing. Don't worry, I'm not hacking here. Although I've been thinking about installing one of my antitracing systems so I can work here."

"Whatever you want to do, babe."

He looked up for a moment and stretched an arm out to me. "You don't mind?"

"Nope."

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him on the top of his head--a very unusual experience for a short person like me. He sighed.

"Y'know, Ally, I feel safe here."

"It's not a high crime neighborhood."

He shook his head at me again. "Once again, Ally, you show how pleasantly clueless you are. I mean, I feel safe here. When you hold me. When you call me your babe. When you do stuff for me. I'm not used to getting taken care of like this."

"Think you could get used to it?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Good, because I like taking care of you."

He leaned up against me; I was standing up and he was sitting at my computer, which is the only way I can ever get a height advantage.

"Ally, you know what an oblate is?"

"A sphere with the poles flattened. Like the earth."

"That, but it's also a person who used to give up their property and money and time and energy to do things for the Church in the Middle Ages. You're kind of like that. I mean it in a really good way, you know."

"I never think of serving as denigration, Langly. To me, it's dignifying. Perhaps it's not the most popular viewpoint in the late 20th century, but it works. At least it works for me."

I moved around to curl up in his lap, and he wrapped me in his long arms, lacing his fingers through my hair...

When I began to experience a sensation I had not had in a long while--the small, hard pindots of light in front of my eyes, a flash of intense coldness, and the feeling of a dagger being plunged into the side of my head...

"Oh, fuck!" I moaned.

"What's wrong?"

"Langly, I've got a migraine coming on. And it's going to be bad, I can tell already." It was painful to move my mouth; each syllable set off a series of shocks to the side of my brain.

"What do you take for them?"

"For the mild ones, Excedrin, but for the bad ones, I've got Sumatrin in my purse."

"So like where's your purse?"

"Downstairs on the kitchen counter."

He walked me over to the bed, set me on the edge, and went to the edge of the stairs.

"Hey Miranda!" He yelled down. Oh shit. This does not count as a chivalrous gesture, I wanted to let him know, but the last  thing I wanted to do was talk at the moment.

"What?"

"Can you get your mom's purse?"

"Get it yourself, you lazy pond scum!"

"Please! She's got a migraine!"

Great. All I needed right now was to have the two of them having one of their mock duels at the top of their lungs. Had I been able to get off the bed without experiencing a firestorm of pain, I would have strangled both of them, and no jury would have convicted me.

I heard footsteps finally, and I didn't really care whose they were, so long as they brought me my meds. Langly had my purse in hand when he came back in the room.

"Jesus, whaddya do, bench 200 to carry this thing around?"

"Langly, could I ask you and Miranda a favor?"

"Sure, what?"

"I don't get these very often, but when I do have a migraine, everything--and I do mean EVERYTHING--makes it worse. That includes noise. So please don't yell!"

"Sorry about that. So are these pills or what?"

"No, it's an inhaler. New delivery system, which is way better than the old way."

"Which was?"

"Subcutaneous injection."

"What kind of inhaler--ah, here it is." He pulled up a small grey bottle that resembled an asthma inhaler. Instead of handing it to me, he looked it over for a few seconds.

"Ally, let me check something out here before you take this." He walked back to the computer, inhaler in hand.

"What do you mean? Langly, I am really hurting and I'm starting to feel sick to my stomach. Just give."

"Wait."

I was almost in tears. This sounds really infantile, but for anyone who's ever had a bad migraine, you'll understand what this is like. I closed my eyes and dangled my head over the side of the bed, a trick I had learned as an adolescent, back in the days when physicians were convinced that migraines in women were a psychological thing and wouldn't give any meds worth shit for.

I was really getting pissed off.

Langly was clicking away at the keyboard, periodically picking up the inhaler to examine it.

"Langly, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Checking something."

"Checking what?" I was not in the mood for this.

"Byers is looking something up for me. It's gonna take a few minutes."

"I've already checked PDR on-line. I know what the side effects are like."

"Byers did that, too. But there's somewhere else he needs to look."

"Like where?"

"The DOD database."
 
 

END OF PART 12