Classification: TRHA

Rating: Guess it'd better be a strong R-there's a little bit of explicit
sex in here.

Summary: Renegade is not my creation. I have shamelessly stolen him from William Lovejoy's novel "Backslash," which, by the way, I highly recommend. Guess what? It's time...

Spoilers: Don't have any.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. They belong to my cybermuses-Martha, Susan, and the B! At least they should. You guys are the best, even though they rightfully shouldn't belong to 1013 Productions and Fox Television! (But they do. So for now, we'll acknowledge them).
 

"Oh Father Zeus, if over land and water
after adversity, you willed to bring me home,
let someone in the waking house give me a good augury,
and a sign be shown, too, in the outer world."

Homer, "The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation, Book 20, Lines 110-113. Used without permission.
 

Ephikneomai
 

October 10, 1999

If God had needed tips on getting the world created in six days (a concept I am at best quite skeptical of), he would have done well to consult the Gunmen. They didn't do it in six days-God didn't have as much junk to transport or wiring to worry about in the Garden of Eden-but they accomplished it in under two weeks, a feat which utterly amazed me. Frohike was doing the lion's share of the work, as he had the most time available, but Byers and Langly labored intensely when they were off their day jobs. I was certain that Langly was going to get so intensely ill that he'd collapse, but oddly enough, he began to recover. After about a week, he only had a small remnant of the hideous cough and congestion that had plagued him from the beginning of September on.

"Told you," he taunted good-naturedly.

I hate being proven wrong, but in this case, I was grateful.

The house no longer looked so terrible, boxes were slowly getting unpacked, and life was falling into a comfortable groove. I found that I didn't even blink at the security systems installed on the property. A year ago, I'd have utterly freaked out. Now it was almost...comforting.

The one part of my life which was a continuing source of terror and anxiety was Lydia. We'd heard nothing from her, and it seemed she had vanished without a trace. Efforts to locate her had failed to date. Mulder had requested that the case be made an X-file, and Skinner had agreed to the reassignment. Mulder had other things on his mind, though, and Ellen was the de facto case manager. Ellen, Mark and Jeffrey Spender were pursuing the case with a great deal of energy and determination, but thus far, nothing. Even with Mulder and Scully's input, they were coming up lacking. Langly, Byers and Frohike prowled every electronic lead they could get their virtual paws on. I was starting to fear that someday soon, I was going to have to inform my daughter that she had yet another dead relative.

Dana was not doing as well as we had hoped she would; her blood pressure continued to skyrocket, and efforts with medication were not terribly successful. She had gotten so severely edemic as to be unrecognizable by a casual observer. She continued to start labor over and over, and her physicians were becoming less successful at keeping it in check. There was talk of taking the infant early if she did not improve in very short order, which only created more anxiety among us: a premature infant would have many problems, and while the child had not indicated an unusual amount of distress, particularly in view of its mother's condition, being born early would be complicated for both parents and child. Mulder, the quintessential workaholic, was now working minimally; apparently Skinner had him on leave, but he did make the effort to check in with his staff. Visits with the Mulders at the hospital had become a lot less amusing in recent days than they had been. Frohike in particular was in a state of constant anxiety; he came to raid my liquor cabinet far too frequently while he was working these days, never a good sign with him. Langly and Byers visited, although not frequently; I think the strain got to them after a while, even though they didn't say anything on the subject except that Mulder looked like shit.

Ellen was snowed under with work, and she had finally gone to Skinner and demanded more manpower. Unfortunately, in a sense, she was successful.

"Be careful what you wish for, girlfriend," she greeted me on the phone one night after a particularly frustrating day for her. "You might get it."

"Let me guess: They found you the biggest loser they could find, the one that they were going to fire but now they're going to let him hang himself."

"Worse. I got Diana Fowley."

"Why have I heard that name before?"

"Because she's Mulder's goddamn ex-wife, and I'm going to kill the bitch if she's not careful!"

"Tell us how you really feel, Ellen."

She laughed harshly. "Truth be told, I think she's a loser as an agent. She was Mulder's yes-man when she was working for him before, or should I say, yes-woman, and anytime I ask her for input, she starts out with, "Well, Fox would say..." Jesus, that woman needs a brain of her own!"

"Ellen, she can't be that stupid."

"Honey, she's not stupid, she's hot for her ex. When I told Mulder, I figured him to have a nervous breakdown on the spot."

"She's got divisional experience."

"So fucking what! Give me somebody totally green with an open mind but with beliefs of their own, and I'd take that kid any day. Shit, I'd take Miranda if she was old enough."

"No offense, Ellen, but seeing my daughter in law enforcement might make me, well, nervous."

"Then you're normal. God, it's so nice to talk to normal people once in a while, or at least what passes for normal in this town."

"How're Dave and the kids?"

"Dave and I try to see each other once a week-I'm not kidding here, girlfriend, that's what we get, and that's if it's not a bad week. Kids are okay. Dave's mother was widowed a couple years back, and she's talking about moving down here. And to indicate to you just how insane I've become, I'm considering letting her move in with us. Just so my kids see an adult on a consistent basis."

"Ellen, you're a good parent, and you know it."

"Lately, Al, I wonder. I'm always working. Dave's always working. Sometimes I wonder if our mad urge to save the world will let us sacrifice our own sons. And I wonder why I don't sleep at night."

"You love this job, El."

"I do. And that's the problem. Maybe I love living in this freaky-deaky world way more than I should. I don't know. I'm PMS-ing, by the way, so just ignore me."

"I'm not, but you can PMS all you want."

"Ah, a kindred soul. The perennial estrogen bond strikes again."

"Ellen, you know you can call me and bitch anytime. It's good for the soul to kvetch. C'mon, you're a Jewish girl, too, you should know this!"

"Don't forget the entire component of Jewish mother guilt. We've got that built in, too, girlfriend."

"Spare me. I've got plenty to go around."

"Tell me about it. Hey, by the way, how's your goy doing?"

She was referring to Langly, of course. "Well, he's actually better. AH Robbins will see their stock fall by half now."

"Good thing. Men. They're so damn stupid about everything. I swear to God, Al, he can be falling down dead, but let somebody come to him with a fucking hangnail, and he's right there! Makes me crazy sometimes."

"It's why you love him, El. You both have the same drive."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. And since I'm pathologically incapable of being a good rabbinical wife, it's a good thing I do what I do."

"Ellen, I sense you're having a major case of the guilts here. Why should you have all the fun?"

"I feel like feeling sorry for myself, dammit, and nobody's going to deprive me of the opportunity."

"You're starting to sound like your boss."

"Don't even go there, girlfriend."

"You are. You don't sleep, you get totally obsessed, you feel guilty about everything, even when it's not your fault. Sound like anybody we know?"

"Don't forget the bad hair days, too. Speaking of which, I really need to cut this mop." Ellen had a full head of wild dark curls, and she could barely tame them by clipping them back. "Like I really have time to hit the salon."

"Ellen, you're not gonna get sympathy for bad hair here. Every day is a bad hair day for me. I've just come to expect it."

"Know what we really need to do? We need a girls' day out. Speaking of which-"I heard her rustling through her day planner, which she lived and died by---"weekend of the 25th. Got any plans?"

"Actually, I do. It's Miranda's birthday, and she's having a slumber party. She's invited 22 girls. But Langly says he's getting the hell out of Dodge for the occasion-says coping with one teenager is plenty, that many would surely push him over the edge-so like why don't you come over, we'll have a long visit with our good friend Jose Cuervo, and we'll kvetch about our
husbands and kids and pets and bosses and coworkers and anybody else whose character we're in the mood to assassinate, and we'll do it till the cows come home."

"Now that's a plan, girlfriend. You're on."

"What's happening with Dave and the boys?"

"Retreat that weekend, father-son thing. And you know what, Al? I'm so damn tired, I'm looking forward to it. And I feel like shit for feeling like that."

"Sounds pretty normal to me."

"Al, you make me question your religious upbringing when you make remarks like that. And speaking of religious, Dave says that if you and the goy ever get around to setting a date, he's doing your wedding."

I was touched. "That was really kind of him to offer."

"It's not an offer, girlfriend. It's a mandate. He and I will both be intensely pissed if you ask someone else, and don't forget, I've got nine inches and 50 pounds on you. And Dave's heavier than the goy, and I bet he can armwrestle him to the ground."

"Yeah, just don't let him try to wrestle me."

That made her howl. It was nice to hear a good, hearty, Ellen-laugh again, instead of the harsh barking she had been making all night.

"So whaddya think? About the situation with the Mulderette?" She had turned serious.

"Ellen, I pray to God in every language I know, every night and day, that the kid is okay. I don't know what it would do to them if something went wrong."

"Yeah, I hear you there. Mulder's trying to help us out here, but fact is, he's basically useless right now. He should just do what Skinner tells him, shut off the goddamn cell phone, and stay by his wife, where he belongs. And with my oh-so-lovely new coworker, right now, I don't think he needs any additional aggravation."

"Sounds like you're pretty full up yourself."

"Oh, I thrive on aggravation. Can't you tell?" She was sarcastic. "Seriously, I do thrive on aggravation, and that's part of the problem. I'm always looking for something to aggravate me, so I end up off on all these tangents...Al, I really am trying to locate your sister. And Smullen's working his butt off, although right now, things aren't great by him."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Wife has decided she can't deal with this kind of life. Can't say I blame her, but she knew what she was getting into when she took him on. They're separated."

"Wow. That's pretty sucky."

"Yeah. Fortunately, Spender's being a very good boy, and he really is starting to come around into his own. He's a pain in the ass, but he's trying, Al."

"That's all any of us can do, El. And I really appreciate it. Thank you. And thank your staff."

"Al, don't thank me yet. It may be the last thing you want to do when all's said and done."

Another source of unease in my life was the Godzilla letter. After feuding with Langly, he had produced it, and I had scanned the hard copy over and over. I didn't know what to think. I had this nagging feeling that he had been Alcestis to my Admetus-except that in the end, Alcestis is saved. Eric wasn't. And I didn't want to believe it. What I don't want to believe, I
can be very stubborn about. And I tend to be very stubborn about believing in people I care about and trust. This letter, if it was proven in its entirety, would rock my world, and not in the way Langly does when he's feeling amorous.

The Godzilla letter, however, had to be backburnered for now. At least for me. I had a sister-in-law to get back, students who needed to get their lessons down, a daughter who needed me in every way possible, and a fiance who was going to run himself into the ground on his current schedule. Never mind that he had gotten better; I worried he would relapse and it would be nasty. It occurred to me one night that we hadn't even discussed setting a wedding date, let along putting one together. We hadn't had the time to put it in between all of the concerns we had going on.

I was editing a document for one of my students when Byers slipped quietly into the kitchen.

"Ally, I'm sorry, but I didn't have time to eat earlier. Would you mind terribly if I fixed myself something?"

"Don't be silly. I'll get you some leftovers."

"Don't trouble yourself, I can take care of it."

"John, you're in my kitchen and I'm a Jewish mother. So you'll sit." I motioned him to the chair, and he sat down. "We have some herbed chicken and rice left. Would that do?"

"Ally, that would be delicious. Whatever you have that's easy."

"It's not like nuking is hard work. We ate all the salad, but I can make you some more if you'd like."

"Please don't. Chicken and rice is fine. Thank you."

"Strangely enough, we didn't kill all the muffins, though. I can toss one on for you."

"As I said, whatever you have is fine."

I popped a plate full of food into the microwave. "How're your classes going?"

"They seem to be going all right, provided you don't mind the students being unconscious most of the time." Byers was teaching two sections, one at 9 in the morning and then one that ran from early to late afternoon. These were not times of the day that tended to find students at their most alert. "And yours?"

"They're both excellent. I love working with them."

"One on one is a very different experience."

"Agreed." The microwave rang, and I placed a steaming plate in front of him, along with some berries from the freezer and some water.

"It's probably a good thing that Langly is not prone to weight gain," Byers contemplated as he ate. "You'd plump him up in no time."

"I keep trying, John. He really does eat, although while he was sick, he seemed to be getting even thinner."

"I was concerned that he had developed a form of pneumonia, or perhaps pleurisy," Byers commented. "However, he does seem to be recovered at this point."

"Complains that he's tired all the time."

"What was he expecting? He's been ill for over a month."

"This is Langly. I think he just expected that he'd be all better one day, and he wouldn't be having any hangover from it. Speaking of hangovers, would you like a beer?" Byers did not normally drink when he was working, but it was after 10:30 at night, and I thought he might feel like one.

"Actually, that might be nice. It's been a long day."

"Seems like all the days are long lately."

"They are. I've barely noticed the fall colors this year, and this is my favorite season."

"It is rather pretty here in October." October in terms of climate and topography was a very pleasant surprise. When I'd arrived last year, November was underway and showing itself at its homeliest. I didn't care for the chill that had worked its way into the air, but the sky was very blue and clear, and the trees made a wonderful counterpoint with their warm colors.

"What is this, you cook for him but you don't give me anything?" Langly demanded as he strolled into the kitchen.

"I cooked for you, dude. You just inhaled so fast you didn't notice."

"Oh, yeah. That was hours ago. What have you done for me lately?"

I mock-slugged him. He reached around and pulled me into an affectionate kiss, and I was only too happy to respond.

"You realize that this is the only way you manage to get away with some of the remarks you make," I informed him.

He scanned the refrigerator. "What? You gave Byers here all the chicken, and you didn't save any for me?" He stared at Byers accusingly, and Byers' response was most uncharacteristic-he stuck his tongue out at Langly.

"Have a beer and shut up, Langly." He pulled one off the shelf that had been unofficially designated for beers only, if only because nothing else ever made its way on to it.

"Excuse me, but what ever happened to, 'Ally, do you want one?'"

"Hey, you gave my snack to Byers." But he went back to the fridge and grabbed one for me and popped the top.

Byers grinned evilly. "And I'm enjoying every bite of it, Langly. It certainly is delicious."

Frohike then made his way into the kitchen. "Am I missing something here?"

I shook my head. "Just the kids fighting." I cast a glance at Langly and Byers. "Over a chicken breast, no less."

Frohike looked confused. "A chicken breast? Now, if we were discussing the lovely assets of a young lady-"

"Okay, Frohike, chill." I laughed. "You want anything?"

"I just came to replenish my drink, that's all." He reached into the cabinet where the liquor was stored and poured himself two fingers of J&B. "Thank you, my dear."

"What for? You bought the scotch."

"I do believe it is your glass, though."

I turned to Langly. "Speaking of which, the supply of glasses in the house is getting a bit small. There wouldn't by any chance be a supply stockpiled in the office?"

He shrugged. "Just used ones."

"Aargh! What is it on the Y chromosome that doesn't permit men to bring used glasses back and put them in the sink?" I made a mental note to hit Cost Plus this weekend and go nuts on supplying glasses. I doubted this problem would go away anytime soon.

"Thanks, Ally." Byers got up from the table, placed his used dishes in the sink, and started walking back to the office.

Langly grinned evilly at me. "What was that about men not putting things in the sink?"

"Byers puts things in the sink. YOU do not."

"So by logic, does that mean I am way more manly than Byers?"

"No, it proves you are way more lazy than Byers." I took a sip of my beer and lit a cigarette. "You going to be out working for a while?"

"Yeah, but come on out later, we're starting to hit on some interesting stuff."

"Anything about Lydia?" I was hopeful.

"Doesn't look like it, but you never know."

I bit back my disappointment. He must have seen it, because he came over and put his hand on my shoulder. "Hey. Hang in there, girl. It's only gonna get worse."

"Langly, you really have a way of cheering up a girl."

"Later." He flashed me that sweet, disarming smile that turned me into a small puddle as he headed back out.
 

October 11, 1999

It was close to midnight when I finally snapped shut the clamshell of my laptop. Thank God tomorrow was Friday. I was exhausted, and morning was in the habit of arriving far too early for my tastes. I considered heading off to bed, but Langly had asked me to come out and see what was happening. I only hoped he wasn't going to ask me to proof something. I grabbed my sweatshirt and walked out back.

"Thought you went to bed," Langly called out as I entered. They had actually given me the security code, which shocked me; even though I am one of the owners of the property, I didn't figure they would share such information with me. But they did, and had a set of keys made for me as well.

"Nah. Tomorrow's Friday. Doesn't matter how tired I am, I'll get through it."

"Is it? I forget," Langly looked mildly surprised.

"Yes, thank God." I walked over to where he was sitting and wrapped my arms over his shoulders and kissed him on the top of the head, a stunt I was only capable of performing when he was seated. He wrapped one hand on my arm and murmured appreciatively.

"So what're you working on?" I asked as I played with his long blonde ponytail.

"Well, it's getting up to election year, and we're checking out all the scenery."

"Paid political advertising hasn't even started yet."

"Yeah, but some of these guys are busy as beavers, in fact, some of 'em seem to be pretty busy getting beaver." Frohike, sitting nearby, cackled appreciatively.

"Langly, you are so bad. Keep that kind of talk up and you're likely to get spanked."

"Ooh, promises, promises."

"What are these records?"

"Checking out some finance meetings."

"Now that's excitement for you."

"Not, but important to have around." He clicked the keys adeptly as he talked. Both of us could talk and type at the same time, and he was the only other person I knew that could do it.

"So these aren't public."

"No way. This is not the sort of stuff that these guys want anybody to see. Which is exactly why we go fishing for 'em."

"So what does election 2K look like?"

"If this early shit is any indication, pretty damn lame."

"Just the standard corruption."

"Yes and no. I'm kinda bugged by the tone of some of the Republican meetings."

"Langly, you're always bugged by Republicans."

"Yeah, but this is ugly."

"What's uglier than usual?"

"Serious anti-Semitic tone. Lots of really nasty stuff about the 'Jewish-controlled media' and 'Jewish medicine' and various and sundry other anti-Jewish stuff."

"Langly, anti-Semitic sentiments and anti-media sentiments are old news. There is a reason we're a diasporic people."

"These are different. Meaner. And not just rantings. Planning."

"What kinds of plans?"

"Nothing in concrete, to be sure. We just think it could get to the next level."

"There appears to be sentiment in the Republican party that Jewish control is getting out of hand, and it seems that some of the party commandants would like to be able to seize that control." I was amused at Byers' use of the Marxist term 'commandant' in describing his political enemies.

"Hate to say it, guys, but your resident Jew is telling you: Nazi Germany. Been there. Done that. Nobody would ever stand for it again."

Byers looked at me with some surprise and concern. "Ally, you don't honestly believe that, do you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Maybe you ought not to be so quick to rush to judgment." Only Byers could level such a remark and not make it come off as if it were a rebuke.

"We'll see."

"Gentlemen, lady, I'm wrapping it up for the night." Frohike switched off his computer and stood up. "Tomorrow is another day, and I have things to do at home." Frohike had gotten a new apartment in Alexandria, small but pleasant, and a short drive away.

"Yeah, probably got some new downloads," Langly muttered.

"I did not. I have a new video to watch." He smiled. "Thank you for the housewarming gift, my dear." I'd ordered him a copy of "Naughty Night Nurses" and he had yet to be treated for what ailed him. The doors clicked behind him as he departed.

Byers yawned. "I think it's time as well. I do have a class to teach in the morning. Are you two coming?"

"I don't know what Langly's doing, but I'm going to bed, and I mean soon," I told him, and yawned myself. Contagious.

Byers shut off his workstation and quietly said good night as he left. That left the two of us seated at Langly's area, and he continued to click away at the keyboard.

"Sweetheart, you can hammer away all night, but I really have to get to sleep sometime tonight."

He looked up for a moment, then back at the screen, then back at me. "Nah. Probably time to call it." He shut off his system, put his long arm around my shoulders and started us towards the door. I stopped him.

"Glass collection time."

"I'll get 'em tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow. It's past midnight."

"I don't have anything to put 'em in," he whined.

"And just how many do you have in here?"

"I have no idea."

"Oh, fuck the glassware. Let's go." We began shutting down all the lights when the phone shrieked. Langly switched on the tape and picked up.

"Lone Gunmen." "Yeah, it's off." He mouthed "Mulder" to me. He also didn't turn off the tape. "No shit. A girl. How's she doing? How's Scully doing?" "When?" "Wow. That's tough. But they can do amazing things for preemies now." My heart sank; the baby was having complications. I hoped Dana was all right. "No, they're not around. But they just bailed like five minutes ago, and Frohike's planning an adult filmfest tonight with Ally's housewarming gift to him." "Yeah, she really did."

"Let me talk to him for a minute," I hissed.

"Hey, Ally wants to talk to you. Congratulations and good luck." He handed me the phone.

"Hey, Mulder, you're a daddy!"

"This is so weird." He sounded scared, excited, worried, happy, upset, and just plain tired.

"How's she doing?"

"Which one?"

"Dana. And your daughter."

"Scully's okay. The baby is having some problems breathing. They think she'll be okay..." he sounded very nervous now.

"So how much did she weigh in at?"

"Three pounds one ounce. Fifteen inches long. 12:02 a.m."

"Dark hair or red?"

"Dark hair. Hope she gets Scully's nose." He laughed nervously.

"Have you named this child?"

"We have. She's Rebecca Eileen Mulder." He began to sound a bit more solid.

"That's beautiful. Bound light."

"Huh?"

"Mulder, you took classics. Rebecca, from the Hebrew ribkah, to be bound, and Eileen from the Greek helenos, meaning light.   It's a beautiful name, and I'm sure she's a beautiful girl."

"Thanks. Right now I just want to hold her, and I can't." I thought he was going to cry.

"Mulder, you'll have plenty of chances to hold her. We'll all think good thoughts and pray hard."

"Appreciate that."

"So go hold your wife in the meantime. She needs it. You need us to come by?"

"Mom and Skinner are here."

"Good. Did you call Ellen yet?"

"No. Skinner's going to tell her in the morning."

"You realize she'll shoot me if she finds out I heard it here first."

That made him laugh. "Be careful. Ellen's not as good as Scully, but she's good."

"I'll be by tomorrow. Congratulations and give my love to Dana, will you?"

"Always. Thanks, guys." He clicked off.

I looked at Langly. "Wow. That's hard. I just hope little Rebecca will be okay. They need this baby so much."

"Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess they do. So that's what they called her."

"I like it."

"For sure. You ready?"

"I've been ready, babe. Let's go."
 

There was a small balcony off our room, and we went and stood on it for a while. The air was quite cold, but the sky was clear and there were stars floating about.

"I was never very good at reading the stars," I commented.

"That's Spica up there, and Arcturus. And the Big Dipper." He pointed his hand up at the various constellations.

"I know it's cliché, but it always makes me feel insignificant to look out at the heavens."

"I think it's supposed to because basically, we are."

"Another uplifting thought from Langly." I giggled.

"Well, don't you think sometimes we make ourselves more important than we really are?"

"Yeah. I think that's how we keep going."

He slipped his arms around me as I stood in front of him, since seeing over the top of my head was no challenge for him.

"It's so beautiful here in the fall. Too bad it's so cold," I complained.

"You're such a wuss," he teased gently.

"So I have thin blood. Shoot me."

"Too many years of being a California girl. Come out to the East Coast, we'll toughen you up."

"Not likely," I laughed.

"Hope the little Mulder is okay," he said after a time of just standing there. "Daddy sounds pretty wrecked."

"You'd be too, in his position."

"Guess so. Speaking of kids," he whispered, "I know we're not really in the market to make any, but it never hurts to keep up on technique, you know."

"God forbid we should get out of practice," I laughed softly, and we went inside.
 
 

He pulled me down on top of him, took my face in his hands, and kissed me, very softly but insistently. I marveled at this man and his capacity to be so many things. He possessed a rapier wit and an even sharper tongue, and his words could wound, but in his own clumsy way, sometimes what flowed from his mouth was poetry, unself-conscious and perfect. He could move from last-nerve irritable to sweetly generous and tender in a heartbeat. His at times rude and thoughtless behavior was more than compensated for by a kind and gentle heart. It was ironic that this man, who could seem so distant, craved closeness like a drug. He'd been essentially nomadic most of his adult life, yet found deep solace in his newly-found home. Inability to see
the obvious and lightning-quick intelligence rounded out this funny, complex, irritable and irritating, soft-hearted, caring, stubborn, ardently loving man.

I cherished every molecule of him. He had soaked into my skin, coursed into my blood, and my mouth had the constant taste of him. It was a terribly delicious sensation. I renewed the flavor as I kissed him, letting my tongue find his, and letting each other's breath sustain the other. I moaned lightly as his hand slipped under my shirt and ran over the small of my back. I placed one of my hands over his heart and the other behind him. He started to make slight movements, and a series of small noises escaped him.

"I think you'd better take these off," I whispered as I removed his glasses from atop his head.

"Considering what they cost, probably not a bad plan," he agreed.

"And I think you have a few other things you should take off, too."

"Mmm. You think?"

"I do."

"Mmm. Think you oughta do the same."

"Paybacks are such a bitch." We both giggled. Maybe other people make love with earnest, straight faces. We constantly lapsed into sheer silliness.

His light blue eyes had darkened, and I could hear him breathing a bit harder as he undid the buttons of my henley, rubbing his thumb lightly on the space between my breasts, an act which he knew drove me crazy - and he took advantage of it at every opportunity. He then slid his fingers to the undersides of my breasts, and I felt myself turning to liquid. For someone who claimed to not have a great deal of experience with women, he certainly had a marvelous touch. I once commented on this to him, and he made a remark about doing a clinical analysis of a series of Frohike's (more likely Mulder's) videos, which of course made me burst out laughing and then got him going.

Clothes were falling by the bedside, and skin was touching ever more skin. I could feel the curse of the redhead come over me fairly rapidly-I blush when I'm turned on. Only I do it everywhere, not just in my face. Langly claimed to like it because he knew he was moving in the right direction when my color went up. I responded by informing him that I tended to watch other things go up, and we both ended up in a gale of laughter.

"We're so juvenile," I marveled.

"Yeah, isn't it great?" He wrapped both arms around me and shifted me. For being as slender as he was, he was surprisingly strong, and moving me about was not a challenge for him. There had been a few times when I had crashed on the sofa, and later found myself being carried off to our room as easily as if I were a small child.

"Hey, you're not that light," he assured me. "I mean, you're not heavy, but you're not exactly a loaf of bread, either."

"Yes, but my limbs at least stop somewhere in the physical universe."

"That's because you're a midget."

"Thought you liked it that I'm small."

"I do." He placed my head on his chest. "But don't be dissing my tallness, girl!"

"Call it envy. I've always wondered what it's like to see the world from up there."

"Well," he murmured, "from here it looks pretty good."

I ran my hands over the tops of his legs and stomach and chest, listening to him moan very softly as he became more and more aroused. The little noises he makes, for some unknown reason, drive me wild, and the urge to feel him around me more and more intensified. I let my lips wander all over his skin. He tasted exquisite. His mouth found each breast and I could feel
each nipple swell and grow rock hard as he worked around it. I was barely hanging on by now, trying desperately not to yet fall over the edge, and it was getting damn hard to do it. I decided the only fair solution was to drive him equally out of his mind. In short order we were grasping our way into each other, struggling to make it sustain. I could feel his swelling and vibration inside me, and I didn't want it to stop. I wrapped my legs around his very cute ass so that I could draw him in as much as possible, and the resulting sensation was the inability to tell where he ended and I began. He was almost choking for breath now, trying to hold on, but neither of us were able to do it for very long. We exploded in a wash of light and liquid and heat, and both of us were shuddering and smiling when we touched back down. He had his arm wrapped around me and I curled into his chest, our normal post-coital position.

"Still worried we're going to get out of practice?" I whispered to him.

"Hey, you gotta use it or lose it." He closed his eyes, and I heard the stream of his small noises begin to flow.

Concerns about anything else would have to wait. At least until 6 a.m.

END OF PART 29