Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG-13. A few snide sexual references. And everybody's in a bad mood by the end of the night here...

Summary: The Black Hat Briefings are for real, folks. So is DEF CON. And unfortunately, so is Caesar's Palace. And Bell Labs in Murray Hill, New Jersey, is frighteningly real. Welcome to the dark side of geek heaven...

Spoilers: None to speak of.

Disclaimer: Again?! Okay. Property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television, and I'm using them for fun, not profit.

"Oh Michael, Oh Jesus, you know I'm not to blame
You know my reputation for playing a good clean game
Oh Michael, Oh Jesus, I'll keep my promise when
You turn that heartbeat over again..."

"Turn That Heartbeat Over Again" by Steely Dan/Copyright 1972 MCA Records/Used without permission.
 

Entulisso
 

July 23, 1999
Offices of the Lone Gunmen

"Hey, Ally. Feel like going on vacation?"

"I always feel like going on vacation, Langly."

"How about Vegas?"

"Got this mad urge to be surrounded by Elvis impersonators?"

"No, actually it was the lap dancers. But seriously, you wanna go?"

"When?"

"August 5 through 9."

"Langly, you hate the heat. And August in Vegas is HOT."

"So? Caesar's Palace is air conditioned."

"What's the occasion?"

"It's the annual Black Hat Briefings."

"I'm sorry, I'm not acquainted with this."

"What, you spent all those years married to a computer geek and you don't know about the Black Hat Briefings?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"God, I thought everyone knew about it. I mean, one of the sad things is that it's gotten so mainstream. Back when it was DEF CON, it was definitely the place to go."

"So why're you going?"

"Hey, all my friends go." He smiled one of those angelic smiles, but the eyes were demonic. "Basically what we do is tell a bunch of suits about how vulnerable their systems are to
people like us."

"This is what you do for fun?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Hell, yes."

"So let me get this straight: a large group of MBA's get together, pay a bunch of money, go to Vegas in August, and buy drinks for guys like you?"

"Hey, sometimes they offer us jobs."

"This could actually constitute a paranormal experience."

"Ah, come on, Ally, it's fun. And you'd meet some cool people. What'dya say?"

Let's see. I could stay home in Alexandria, sweat like a pig, and miss Langly for four days. Or I could have four days by the pool, read trashy novels, and have four days of...okay, that was tough.

"I'm in. But one thing, Langly."

"What's that?"

"My birthday's on the 8th. Don't forget."

***

We sat down for the Friday night card game, which, unless Mulder called us out on some emergency, was still sacrosanct.

It was Frohike's turn to call the game.

"The game is 7-card stud." I groaned inwardly. I sucked at this game. "Nickel-dime-quarter."

"Maybe I should just hand over all my money now," I moaned.

"Ah, dear, don't be so depressed. We haven't even started yet. Langly, did you order the pizza?"

"Why do I have to order the pizza?"

"Because you always order the pizza," Frohike justified.

"You know, I could place the order," Byers volunteered.

"Hey, chill. I already put in the order. Jesus!" Langly took his place at the table. He slipped his long fingers over my tiny ones. "Hey, you guys coming to Black Hat Briefings? Ally and I are."

"Vegas? Now why would I want to go to Vegas in August?" Frohike shuffled the cards.

"Same reason you always go, Frohike. The showgirls." Langly had brought out four bottles of Sol Cerveza and popped the tops for him and me. I'd gotten them hooked on Mexican beer.

"I'm not certain I'll be attending this year."

"Wouldn't have anything to do with that infection you contacted last year while you were there?"

Frohike rolled his eyes and gave me an extremely pained expression. "Isn't there anything you can do about him?" Then to Langly, "I should have traded you for cigarettes when we were in jail that night."

"Look, just because you didn't use any protection that night--"

"Langly, for your information, it was not an STD. It was a urinary tract infection. And there's no certainty that it was caused by an...intimate encounter with a lady." He looked hard at Langly. The bond was unbreakable between the two, but it did tend to become stretched.

"How about you, Byers? You going?"

"Yes, I had planned to. However, under no circumstances will I share a room with you again, Langly."

"That's good, because I had no intention of sharing with you," Langly retorted. "I'm taking Ally, and it's not going to be a spectator event."

"Believe me, Langly, I have absolutely no interest in your sexual proclivities," Byers assured him. "Your nonsexual ones frightened me enough last year."

"Hey, they only had to call security once. And the music wasn't that loud!"

"Then why did my ears ring for four days afterwards?"

"They were a GREAT band!"

"Yes, but the volume versus the size of the space they were playing in was...shall we say, disproportionate? And as for your contention that they were a 'great band,' let's just say that you've never allowed yourself to be confined by such mitigating factors as taste."

"Byers, I have plenty of taste."

"Yes, but it's all bad."

"Hey, am I gonna have the opportunity to lose my money, or should I just let you guys bitch at one another all night?" The discussion in progress--if one could call it that--could have gone on indefinitely.

"Come now, kids," Frohike said patronizingly. "Let's play nice, or everyone goes to their rooms with no dinner." He sounded as if he had said it a thousand times before to a group of squabbling, unruly rugrats, and it made me sad. Langly said he had a couple kids floating around out there, and that he never saw them. I was definitely curious, but assumed that as
card table conversation, it was off-limits.

Pizza was delivered, and we stopped to distribute slices to Miranda and Shelby, who were upstairs enjoying 5000-plus channels of illegal satellite crap on TV, and to replenish our beers.

"That's one good thing about bridge. You've got the dummy to do things like run for food, beer, answer the door..." Byers interjected between bites of pizza. That man never ceased to amaze me. How did he wear those suits and never drip tomato sauce or mozzarella on him? The rest of us always ended up wearing a fair portion of our meal.

"Doesn't have the same poetry as poker, though," was Frohike's opinion.

"That's because you don't win," Byers assured him.

"I've definitely improved," Frohike said somewhat defensively.

"Yeah, you have. But so have the rest of us," Langly cut in. "So it's not as if the curve has shifted or anything."

"Langly, I'd like to point out that you happen to be the weakest player at the table right now," Frohike seemed somewhat affronted.

"That's because Mulder's not here."

"On that we both agree. But Mulder is not here, so you have the honor of being in last place, Blonde Boy."

"I actually miss having Mulder join us for these little soirees," Byers sighed.

"There's something so rewarding about cleaning him out," Frohike agreed gleefully.

"Why? He's a fucking civil servant. It's not like he's got deep pockets or something," I threw in.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, my dear," Frohike held up one finger. "Believe me, if he chose to, Mulder would never have to work another day in his life, assuming he invested prudently, of course."

"Even if he didn't, Mulder is such a cheap bastard," grumbled Langly.

"Mulder has chosen not to accept his father's wealth, which he accumulated by...highly questionable means." Frohike sounded almost like a proud father. "Mulder is irritating, erratic, volatile, self-absorbed, hypersensitive--"

"And those are his good qualities," chimed in Langly.

"--but he is an honorable man. And he is utterly devoted to the lovely Dana Scully, and I cannot fault him there. She deserves nothing less. I do believe he will be an excellent father."

"Personally, I think he's a good guy. Even if I do agree with your character assessment, Frohike. I've had a lot of fun working with him this last week." I decided I would keep the character assassination to a minimum.

"How are the new agents working out, Allison?" Byers inquired.

"They're pretty cool. Dana and Mulder chose well. Ellen's a gas. The woman is a tornado. I've never seen anyone with that much energy. She's hysterically funny, too. Mark is incredibly mellow. I don't think anything gets him worked up. My only complaint is that I have to crane my neck to see both of them." Ellen was 5'10" and Mark was close to 6'3". Dana's and my
shortness had been very apparent all week.

"Ellen looks like she's so hot," sighed Frohike.

"Ellen's gorgeous. As Dana said, you'd have to hate her if she wasn't such an awesome human being. She and Mark are both a quick study in sign language. I'm going to work with them next week, and then I think they can take it from there. Plus they're
really needed out in the field, what with Dana not being able to travel and all. I think they're anxious to get moving."

"Have you spoken with the lovely Dana Scully?" Frohike asked.

"I have. We finally hooked up on the phone after work the other night and burned up the TTY lines for about two hours. She is so excited about this baby. I mean, when I was going to have Miranda, I was really excited too, but let's face it, I didn't go
through what she has. And Mulder's even worse. Fortunately, when T minus 0 happens, I'll be working at my regular
job, and I won't have to deal with him." I grinned. "They're actually pretty cute, as prospective parents go."

"I have to confess that 'cute' is not an adjective that comes to mind when I think of Dana and Mulder," Byers shook his head, but the smile was unmistakeable. He was amused.

"Speaking of which," Frohike reminded all of us at the table, "in view of the coming blessed event, come the end of August, a two-bedroom is opening up in Dana's--I mean their--building, and we're helping them move."

"Is this upstairs or down from where they are?" Langly asked.

"Upstairs. And quit grumbling, Langly. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were going through a period of extreme sexual deprivation."

"Trust me, he's not," I assured my tablemates. I turned to Langly. "Take the fifth on this one, dude. It'll save you a lot of agony later on." He rolled his eyes and shook his blonde mane. His expression said it all: busted.

"God, it's hot up here," moaned Langly.

"Well, it's been hotter than normal, and there've been brownouts all over the city," explained Byers.

"Like I didn't know that."

"And we need to keep the offices cooled sufficiently because of the equipment," Byers added.

"Listen, do I look stupid or something?" Langly was definitely deep into a moody spell. "Look, I'm a blonde. I get warm easily. Okay?"

"Try being a redhead," I teased him.

"I think I'd rather try being on the redhead," he leered back. I'm glad I had brothers. I could deal with these sorts of dialogues.

"Speaking of being on the redhead," Frohike interjected, "I see that both of you appear to have pretty well recovered from your encounter with Monsieur Soleil." I chuckled, but Langly actually sort of blushed. Guys are so easily embarrassed. "Although I've not seen anything published to indicate that SPF 15 or higher is a necessary part of safe sex--"

Langly and I looked at each other and both winced and grinned. This was not lost on Byers and Frohike.

Byers spoke up first. "I know it's none of my business--"

Frohike jumped in. "Don't tell me. You kids aren't using anything. Oh my God."

"Frohike, I was married to the same man for 17 years and had sex with only him for 20. It's not like I've got a ton of history."

"And in case you haven't noticed, women have not exactly been kicking in the door around here," Langly added defensively.

Frohike shook his head. "It's just that--oh, perish the thought--Langly, the idea that your gene pool could proliferate is downright terrifying."

"Not likely at my age, Frohike," I said gently. My birthday was less than 3 weeks away now. Double quarters. 44.

Frohike stayed silent for a time. We still hadn't started the game.

"I'm sorry," he apologized gently. "I know it's none of my business. I just feel a certain-- responsibility to you, Langly. And to you, Byers. I know that you are my coworkers, and my technical equals--much as it pains me to say that--and my friends. But
you're both so terribly young..."

"I'm 36, Frohike. Remember? Last Monday?"

"And I'll be there in November," Byers added.

"I know that. But to me, you both seem so young and so--forget it. It's just that once those parenting genes kick in, they don't ever seem to shut down." He then turned to me. "Ally, I know that you're the closest to my age here, although your appearance could fool anybody--"

"Thanks, Frohike." And I meant it.

"--and I feel a certain obligation to you as well. And to Mulder and to Dana Scully, now Mrs. Mulder." He was very pensive now. "It's as if this child of theirs will be like my own grandchild. Miranda is also very dear to me. She is a lovely child,
Allison. You are very blessed. And although I consider your taste in the opposite sex to be highly questionable, I think if you did spawn some young ones, I would be overjoyed."

Now I blushed. And I felt a small sadness. I would not be likely to grant this wish for him.

I only hoped Langly didn't feel the same way. Guess I was going to have to ask him.

***

We had all had several Sol Cervezas by now, with Frohike in the lead for largest quantity consumed. He was definitely in his cups. I wouldn't be losing any money tonight.

"I'm sorry about your kids, Frohike," I said very gently.

He looked as if he would cry. "I haven't seen them in so many years, and I miss them so terribly. They're quite grown up by now. My daughter Leslie would be 26 by now, and my son Michael would be 23."

"Do you know where they are?" I asked.

"Yes, but there is no way I would contact them. There's too much I did wrong. Too much pain. The least I can do is let them live their own lives without my interfering."

"Why not?" demanded Langly.

Frohike was really starting to lose it. "They wouldn't want to see me."

"How do you know that?" It was Byers, ever the voice of reason.

Oh, God, if I ever needed the tequila gods to come and rain on me, it was now...

"My wife and I had a good life. I worked for Bell Labs in Murray Hill, New Jersey. We had a home, our two lovely children, all the trappings of middle-class suburban life. Bell Labs was a great environment for letting one's mind roam free...at least that was the canon.

"But who is Bell Labs' main customer?"

"The government," I guessed. No big surprise there; Eric had been acquainted with some of the mythology surrounding the place.

"And the things they were asking us to develop...it didn't make sense."

"Most employers don't make sense," Byers added in.

"So I got curious. And I did have a chance to let my mind go. Only problem was, I got caught doing it."

"I think I've heard this one before." I winked at Langly. He wasn't much in the mood for levity right now. He just pulled me over to him and leaned against me, sulking and not saying anything.

"I was hoping that by going to work for a good company and starting a family, I could put behind me the horror that was Vietnam. And for a while, it seemed to be working. But I found that the war was still going on at home. And it was a lot more
dangerous and covert than it had ever been in the jungles of Southeast Asia.

"My wife was devastated when I was arrested, and she did try and stand behind me. But we had the kids to take care of, and we were totally broke, and she was humiliated and angry. And I don't blame her. I sold her one dream, I gave her a nightmare. So I can't begrudge her the way she feels."

He polished off the Sol he was holding. "I need another." Against my better judgment, I got up and fetched one for him.

"I don't deserve to see my kids," He was almost in tears. "But I want to."

"Why don't you e-mail them?" Byers suggested.

"No. I would have to see them in person."

"What'd you say to them?" Langly spoke up very softly.

Frohike thought about it a long time.

"I think I would just tell them, I'm sorry."

***

At that point, Frohike retreated from the room. The three of us remaining just looked at one another, not saying anything.

"Maybe we should get Miranda and Shelby and head back," I suggested.

"Probably should."

"D'you think you should stay here?" I asked Langly.

"I think it's best to leave him be," Byers suggested gently. "Why don't you get the kids and go on ahead."

I heard the phone ring and the tape click on, but I couldn't hear the conversation. We waited for a few minutes, puzzled.

Frohike emerged, visibly upset but surprisingly clear-eyed and purposeful.

"That was Mulder. Dana started to bleed, and he's at Georgetown with her. We're out of here. Now."

END OF PART 16