Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG

Summary: More holiday fun! Enjoy!

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: Property of Fox Television and 1013 Productions, but only because they steal shamelessly.
 

"Hanukkah is the festival of lights
Instead of one day of presents,
We've got eight crazy nights!"

Adam Sandler, "The Hanukkah Song." Used without permission.
 

Chadah
 

November 28, 1999

We were lying in bed, fat on food and beer and thin on cash. Frohike ended up winner-takes-all.

"Only because Byers isn't here," Langly growled.

"Don't be a spoilsport. Flush beats two of a kind and you know it."

He was in sulky-teenager mode, but I watched in amazement as he did a 180-degree shift and melted into unbelievable tenderness and warmth. Pale blue eyes opened wide and soft, and his face warm and smiling.

"C'mere," he beckoned.

"I am here," I whispered as I moved in closer to him. He pulled me in, threatening to drown me in those eyes. They might be the color of a shallow pool, but the color deceived how far down they went.

"Mmm. It's good to be home."

"You've been home since Monday afternoon."

"I know, but now it really feels like home." He buried his face in my chest. I smoothed his soft hair.

"Does, doesn't it?" I agreed. "It was a great day."

"Best Thanksgiving in a while, even if the UCLA-USC game sucked." I mock-swatted him.

"Important thing is that UCLA won."

"Yeah, but no game. Hardly worth wasting time on." He was snuggled tightly against me.

"Mmm. I missed you when you were away, babe."

"Not like I had a lot of choice in the matter," he muttered.

"I know, but I missed you anyway."

"You have no idea," he said softly. He was now curled up on his side against me; I had my arm over him. I started to stroke his chest with my free hand.

"Watch the bone there, girl. Can you believe that sucker still hurts?"

"Pretty good sized puncture you got."

"I got no plans to do a repeat performance, believe me."

"Could've been worse. She could've done a hip puncture. Then you'd have a rough time sitting down."

"That was her favorite threat to use on me." He was speaking of Dr. Ying.

"Could be worse, babe. Think of Mulder. His wife actually knows doctor tricks."

"And she's not afraid to use them. Maybe that's how she does it." We giggled at the idea of tiny Dana Mulder Scully torturing her much-larger husband. It was an amusing image.

"So consider yourself fortunate that I am but a lowly interpreter."

"You're not lowly anything."

"And you're a love to say it."

"Just saying what's true, that's all."

"So what do you think? Are we nuts to let Miranda and Frohike put our wedding together?"

"Probably, but I have no clue as to how to go about it, and you don't seem to get into that sort of stuff. Besides, we told 'em to do it simple."

"Yes, but I worry that Miranda's definition of simple is not what mine is."

"Better set her straight on that early, or it could get pretty wild. Personally, Ally, I don't care. I just wanna do it, have our good friends around, have a little fun, and then go and have some really incredible sex afterwards." I giggled. I was doing that a lot lately.

"I don't think you have to worry about the incredible sex part. We're not letting anybody take over in that area." We both giggled this time.

"Ally. Either let 'em do it or do it yourself, but don't try to do it both ways. Okay? If you gotta be a control freak, you gotta do it yourself. Otherwise, let 'em have at it. They'll do fine." He was being intensely cuddly, and I was adoring every second of it. "Long as we keep them away from the sex part."

"I have all intentions of keeping them as far from that as possible."

"Whaddya think? Think we should practice?"

"Definitely." I lost myself in his arms, and then in all the rest of him...
 

November 29, 1999

Friday we bowed to tradition and went to the Falls Church Mall to take our place in the great American shopathon. I was almost panicking by the time we left, but Emma and Miranda and Shelby ate it up.

"I haven't been in a shopping mall in over a year," Emma confessed.

"Neither have I, and I don't think it's been long enough." I felt as though the crowds were closing in on me.

"Mom, it's tradition. You have to do it." Miranda was stirring her triple chocolate mint mocha, guaranteed to give her energy beyond any reasonable human limits (namely mine).

"Shelby, how was your Thanksgiving?" She hadn't said a word about it.

"It was okay," she shrugged. "Miranda says yours was great, even if the dog did eat the turkey. That was pretty funny."

"It was rather amusing," I laughed. "That is, until the dog got sick at 2:30 this morning, and Michael had to get up and clean up after her." Michael loved Tiny, and he got out of bed to do it, but not without complaint. I'd been oblivious to the whole incident until I got the blow-by-blow from him on the way out this morning.

"Serves him right for puking all over my mattress," Shelby smirked. Shelby had gotten surprisingly territorial about regarding our home as hers.

"I didn't tell you about the champagne, did I?" Miranda asked her.

"You had champagne?" Shelby's eyes grew wide.

"Yeah, a little. But we were toasting, and Michael's and Mom's glasses broke and fell in the flowers. They didn't get any."

"Too bad. It was wonderful champagne," Emma mused.

"It's okay. The stuff makes me ill," I made a gagging noise.

"Glad it wasn't my glass," Emma smiled.

"So what'd you eat if the dog killed the turkey?"

"Everything else," Miranda shrugged. "We had lots. How 'bout you?"

"We went to this hotel in Fairfax, and it was this really nice place, but my mom got mad when they brought her the wrong salad and she threw a plate at the waiter." Shelby looked rather embarrassed. "Then they didn't fix her food right, and she threw a drink on the waiter, and when the manager asked us to leave, she spat on him." I ached for this poor kid.

"That waiter's out looking for a new job today, I'll bet," Emma nodded sympathetically.

"At least a new tux," Shelby assented, and we laughed a little.

"Auntie Em!" Miranda would frequently do the call from the 'Wizard of Oz' to get her aunt's attention.

"Yes, dear?" Emma smiled indulgently at her.

"Why don't you move out here? Then it wouldn't take you so long to get home," Miranda piped out, apropos of nothing.

Emma was momentarily silent, but still smiling. "Actually, Mir, there was something I was going to discuss with your mom...might as well be now."

My heart leapt up a little.

"I've been doing state lobbying for years now. I've got the background, I've got the connections. And I'm thoroughly fed up with Lungren's administration, and I think I'm ready to move on. I was thinking that lobbying at the national level might be my next move."

"Really." I was listening.

"You're here, and Lydia...well, God willing, Lydia will be home soon..."she trailed off for a moment, "and I'm pretty much alone on the West Coast. I'm contemplating it. Seriously."

"You said you're fed up with Lungren's administration. What if the next presidential election moves in the wrong direction?" Emma was a staunch liberal Democrat. She might not be the most popular girl in town should a more conservative administration win the election.

"I've been considering moving up to the national level for a long time. The game is played differently here, although mostly it's a variation on a theme, and having family here just increases my...motivation. I'm already putting out feelers. In fact, I'm going to talk to a few people on Monday and Tuesday." I had assumed she'd leave Sunday, like all the rest of her fellow travelers, but apparently if she'd told me this, I'd missed this little detail. Lately I was missing that a lot.

"You know you're welcome to stay as long as you want," I assured her. "I realize the accommodations are not the most luxurious..."

"Ally, really. It's fine. I have a bed to sleep in, good food, good liquor, plenty of good company. What else do you need for fine accommodations?"

"A little elbow room?" I laughed. "Sometimes I think we should have bought a bigger house, but Langly fell in love with this place at first sight, and I don't think I was going to be able to talk him out of it."

"Ally, it's a lovely home, and it's welcoming. That's what matters," Emma insisted firmly. "Of course, a couple more bathrooms might simplify your life." We all laughed. And I figured two bathrooms would be plenty. Ha.

"And more hot water," Miranda grumbled.

"We could probably put in a larger hot water heater," I admitted. "'Course, I usually make sure I'm the first one in the shower, so I'm not the one suffering from it," I gloated at my traveling companions.

"It'd be nice if Michael didn't take so damn long in the bathroom! God, what does he do in there?" Miranda rolled her eyes, and Shelby nodded in assent.

"You don't want to know," I assured her. I know I didn't want to know.

"Hey, Allison, isn't that your friend over there?" Shelby pointed to a small redhaired woman with a taller, blonder companion.

"Hey, it's Dana!" Miranda ran over to her, and Dana spotted her immediately and joined us.

"Dana, what brings you out into the wilds of Virginia?" I signed to her after we hugged. "By the way, this is my sister-in-law Emma, and Emma, this is my friend and former boss, Dana Scully Mulder.

Dana and Karen laughed conspiratorially. "Thanksgiving at my mom's is wonderful, but we just had to get out for a while. And as far away as humanly possible and still be able to make it back fairly quickly. I cannot believe how long it's been since I was out in public," Dana sighed. "You remember my sister-in-law Karen?"

"From the wedding," I shook hands with the taller woman.

"She needed to get away from it all for a while," Karen concurred. "And we like this mall, and we've actually managed to buy some holiday gifts." Each was carrying a large shopping bag, and they were reasonably full.

"You look fantastic," I told Dana. And she did. She had lost most of her pregnancy puffiness, and her hair had grown out. She was wearing it long and wavy with a gold butterfly clip on one side. In her emerald green tunic, black leggings, and black flats, she looked like...a happy suburban woman on a shopping trip with her girlfriend. The only discordant note was
the ankle holster with her weapon in it. She apparently noticed that I noticed, for she just smiled and said, "Regulations. I may be on maternity leave, but I'm still a federal agent, and I'm required to carry it. Of course, I may not have to do it much longer."

"What're you talking about?"

"I've been doing some thinking, and checking out some options. To tell you the truth, Allison, the only thing that I'm interested in doing at the Bureau is being a field agent, and I can't do that now." She looked momentarily depressed, but brightened rapidly. "I have some possibilities for teaching, and possibly even going back into medical practice. And I may choose to exercise those options. Right now, I don't know what it's going to be."

"I assume you want to spend most of your time with Becca," I stated, and she nodded fiercely.

"I do. I don't want to be away from her all the time. I know my mom would help me, but I just don't want to be away that much. But I do need to work. I'm afraid my brain has already turned to mush." She laughed.

"I doubt that," Karen commented drily.

"Let's face it, Allison," she signed and spoke simultaneously. "The FBI is still a boys' club, and you've worked there, so you know." Sad but true. "I don't know how Ellen does it."

"She spends a lot of time losing her mind," I signed to her. That made Dana laugh a bit, but she grew serious.

"Ellen's boys are older. And her husband's occupation is, on the whole, relatively...low risk, shall we say?" She was making a veiled reference to her concerns about her husband, which were not unfounded. "But the Bureau is not exactly the best climate for working parents. Particularly mothers. I'm seriously considering getting out."

"Dana, you gotta do what's right for you," I stated simply.

"I was wondering, though. Were I to take a university position, would you be interested in working with me again?"

"Depends on what your schedule is, and how mine goes. CU has kept me pretty busy, but you know if I could, I'd love to work together again."

"I'm glad. Thank you."

"Have you told Mulder about this?" I asked her.

"It's all we talk about, other than Becca," she laughed. "We've gotten so unbelievably insular, it's not funny."

"It's hard not to be that way when you have a new kid. Particularly one in Becca's...situation. How is the little one, by the way?"

Dana beamed. "Growing like a weed, getting stronger all the time, and getting more beautiful each day. She looks just like her daddy, except for the nose." She wrinkled her nose evilly. "Thank God."

"And how is the daddy?"

She and Karen both launched into peals of laughter. Finally, Dana said, "You saw him at the hospital with her, right?"

"I did indeed."

"He's worse." Both women laughed again, and we joined them. "About the only time I can have her is when she's hungry. Otherwise, he's totally loathe to set her down. I'd worry about her getting spoiled, except that Mulder is supposed to get his cute little butt back to work on Monday." She gave another evil grin. "Thank God."

"All that togetherness can you make insane," Karen agreed. "That's why we're here."

"But we do need to get back soon, or I'm going to be leaking like a burst pipe," Dana reminded her. "Allison, I'll keep you apprised of my plans, and we'll talk some more." We embraced and she and Karen vanished back into the crowds.

"Very nice woman," Emma said thoughtfully. "And very pretty."

"She actually looks better than ever. She was always a pretty woman, but she used to look so...severe. Now she looks like she's blossoming. More alive. She had to go through a lot having her daughter, but she looks great."

"Looks like motherhood agrees with her," Emma stated. "I confess I was a bit startled by the gun."

I considered that, and it amazed me that I no longer found the gun unsettling. Maybe that was a bad sign, but it was an indication of what I now accepted as normal in my life...

December 4, 1999

Emma had returned home the prior evening, and it looked as if she might make the transition to Washington-style lobbying at some point in the not-too-distant future. I promised to be more attentive about calling her, and she vowed to keep me updated in excruciating detail. Neither of us said it, but the issue of Lydia still hung between us.

Byers had returned home Sunday evening, and when asked about his voyage, he'd just turn pink and smile broadly. His silence was eloquent enough to answer any questions I might have had, but Langly was frustrated.

"Details. We want details," he whined.

"And how many details do you share of our intimate life?" I demanded.

"Hey, that's different," he told me. "Besides, wouldn't want to make them jealous." He grinned at me. He'd gone back to work on Monday, and he was still very tired, taking up the habit of falling asleep on the sofa for a while before downing some dinner and then heading off to the TMB offices. Then he'd come and fall into bed. We mostly saw each other in a horizontal, comatose state as of late.

Hanukkah was five days away and I was nowhere near done with gift purchases. Langly and Miranda would of course expect a present every night for eight days, and that was going to entail some creativity-not so much in content as in financing. I found myself working my Visa card far more than I had intended to. I'm just the sort of consumer the credit card companies  and merchants adore. I had to get one for Emma, one for Frohike, one for Byers, one for Shelby, something for my mother and brothers and nieces and nephews and Robyn and my students and Rick and Jennifer and the Mulders...and I would get something for Lydia. I hoped against all hope that she would be home for the holiday season.

We were getting ready to leave for work that Wednesday morning, grabbing coffee and cursing our missing keys as usual.

"Babe, I have to go shopping tonight. I'm not coming home until late," I announced.

"Uh-I almost forgot. Joanna, your boss? She called while you were in the shower. Said she needed you to cover a class again tonight," he told me, yawning.

I tensed. "What'd you tell her?"

He shrugged and yawned again. "Said you'd call her. Anyway, I gotta go. Got things to see and people to do." He bent down and kissed me. "Bye." He was out of the house.

I shuddered. There was no way in hell I was working that class tonight, and I intended to make that clear to Joanna. I dialed her number, hoping to get her voice mail.

No such luck. She was at her desk, and picked up on the first ring.

"Meredith quit, without notice. I really need that class covered tonight. It's the last class of the quarter, Allison. Next week is finals, and I'll have somebody for winter and spring. Please?" She was whining, and it was not one of her more endearing habits. Not much about Joanna was endearing.

"Fine." Sucker, I cursed myself. "But I have an 8:00 tomorrow, and I'm out of there at 10. I can't stay there all night."

"The class is only scheduled till 10," Joanna pointed out. "Why would you be there longer?"

"Because the instructor has a major case of verbal diarrhea, that's why." Joanna didn't laugh. "He tends...to run over the designated time."

"Well, tell him you have to leave," she said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And Joanna? Could you arrange to have an escort meet me at the end of class? There was a...strange guy in the parking structure last week, and he was bothering me."

"I'll call them. Don't you carry mace?" She acted as if I were utterly dense.

"I can't find my checkbook or my car keys in my purse. If I had to find mace, I'd be dead, unless my assailant died of laughter watching me try and find it." Again, she didn't laugh. That woman had no sense of humor.

"Well, be careful, Allison, and thank you. Your dedication is appreciated." I hung up. That woman annoyed the shit out of me. Fortunately, beyond scheduling, my dealings with her were very limited; I frequently didn't see her for weeks. Dedication, my ass. To my students, definitely. Not to her. And not to the student I was working for tonight. If he gave me any grief, I was going to put down my hands and tell him forget it. I had too much to do in my life to put up with bullshit these days.
 

I was terribly nervous working the class-the student, if possible, was in an even worse mood than the previous week, and he yelled at me several times. I finally told him that if he was going to speak to me in that fashion, he could get another interpreter for the rest of the night. He did shut up, but I was never going to be able to get along with this jerk. I doubted anyone could. No wonder Meredith had quit without notice. She probably just gave up. I barely knew Meredith, but she was a kindred career soul, and I'd have to call her, if for no other reason than to bag on this guy. And he'd given us plenty of material to work with.

I waited until 10:30 for the escort to show-class had not let out until 10:20, and I was gritting my teeth at the end of it. When there was no escort by that time, I decided to make a run for the border.

Fortunately, the parking structure was empty of unwanted individuals that night, at least ones that were invading my personal space. I felt better as I headed for the bridge. I did some mental mapping in my head; I got out at 5:40 on Thursdays, which was late, but would still give me time to do a mall crawl. I could finish up a few things tomorrow night and polish off the job on the weekend-shit. Rebecca Mulder's christening was Sunday. That pretty much killed Sunday; it was in Annapolis at the church where Dana and Mulder had been married, so that meant driving up there as well as taking time for the celebration. And it meant another gift to think about and purchase. That left Saturday. I was just going to have to wake up early and attack it like well-planned reconnoisance. It was the last week before finals, which meant that at least preparation was winding down. When my students are busiest, that's when I get a break.

Hanukkah is my favorite holiday, and I told myself to quit stressing and enjoy myself for a change. I'd get as much done as I could, and the rest would have to take care of itself. I'd had a great Thanksgiving-the entire weekend had been terrific. Miranda, Emma and I did indeed have girls' day out on Saturday, and I came home with a perm full of loose curls that had Langly with his mouth open. He loved it when I had curls in my hair, but it was generally a time-consuming proposition, and most of the time, I settled for clipping it into a ponytail. And these would be around for a while. Better living through
chemistry has its advantages, and he didn't argue.

And my fiance was once again healthy-a bit tired, but better than the previous week, so long as he got a catnap here and there. My daughter was in a happy frame of mind, excited as hell to be in charge of planning our wedding. (Frohike was the real person in charge, but he had her convinced that she was the final word). Michael was less surly, working out in the offices a good portion of the time, and caring for the animals. When he spent less time in the house, he and Miranda got along better, so the arguments between them had been minimal. Byers seemed to be walking on a cloud-no mean feat for a man that well grounded. Frohike was seemingly reconciling, albeit slowly, with his son, and while there was still plenty of tension between them, there was also a mutual desire for some resolution, and they moved tentatively in that direction, which seemed to be for now sufficient for the both of them. My mother had been in a pleasant state when she called over the weekend (she was drunk, it's true, but I don't care where her pleasantries come from), my brother Jason and his fiancee were planning a visit over the holidays in the area. Rebecca Mulder was doing well. And I'd gotten out of the parking structure without visitation from anyone smoking strong cigarettes and wearing European suits. A vast improvement over thirty days' prior.

Now if we could just get Lydia home safely...
 

When I arrived home, the lights were on in the office. I checked Miranda's room and kissed her and Shelby; Shelby'd decided she was going to move back in after Thanksgiving, and she hadn't been home since Friday. Both were sound asleep and the room was dark; I had to be careful not to kill myself navigating the disaster on the floor.

I wandered out back to the offices. It was bitterly cold-17 degrees. God, how do people live in the Arctic, I wondered.

The offices still lacked for what I considered sufficient heat, but it was much warmer than the great outdoors. Langly, Frohike, Byers and Michael were all at their respective workstations-they had put one in for Michael when he proved that he actually would perform-and greeted me absently as I walked in.

I strolled over to Langly and pulled myself into his lap. He kissed me quickly, then said, "Let me just finish this up, and I'll come to bed." I'd been hassling him about not sleeping enough. I didn't need him getting sick again. He didn't need him getting sick again. There would be homicide if it happened, I thought.

I kissed him back and started towards the door. The office phone rang, and I was next to it, so I picked up.

"Lone Gunmen."

"Where is that shitfaced little snot of a brother of mine?" The voice was low in pitch but female and very angry. "Get him on the phone, and don't tell me he's not there!"

"Just a moment, please." I snapped down the hold button. "Michael, I'm assuming this call is for you, since John's sister generally doesn't begin her conversations in this manner."

"Real bitch?" he asked, shuddering. "Fuck. It's Leslie." He didn't move to get up.

"Your sister is on the phone?" Frohike looked up in surprise.

"Yeah, why don't you talk to her?" Michael looked over to him. His tone was insolent, but his look was pleading.

"Fine." Frohike seemed to be a bit unsteady, and hesitated as he picked up the receiver. "Frohike."

I couldn't hear the words she was saying, but she was loud enough that I could pick up the angry timbre. "Yes, this is Melvin Frohike. Leslie? It's your father." "Oh, I see. What did he do?" He turned to his son. "Michael," he said severely, "pick up the phone this instant."

"Wha-" Michael began to protest.

"Now, Michael." Frohike was showing some signs of impatience.

Michael grabbed the receiver roughly. "Yeah, whaddya want, you bitch?" So much for a friendly greeting on his side as well. "Well, fuck, why do you think I took it? I needed the money! So I'll pay you back! I dunno! Hey, it's not like 200 bucks is a fucking fortune, you know! So what? Nobody made you get your fucking PhD!" He turned to Frohike. "She wants to talk
to you."

"Is that a fact?" Frohike seemed intensely skeptical. He gingerly took back the receiver, as though it might be toxic. "Yes, Leslie?" He stood while she spewed out whatever invectives she was throwing upon him. "Now slow down. What is it you want me to do? No, he shouldn't have taken the money from your account. No, he won't do it again. Why do you think I should send you the money? So you want me to pay you and have him pay me, is that it? Fine. And so nice talking to you again, dear." He ended the conversation with a sarcastic note in his voice and a deeply hurt tone in his voice. How depressing to have two children you sired who had no manners and no sensitivity. He turned his irritation on Michael.

"Michael, while you show some talent for...hacking, as it were, I will tell you right now, you are not to hack into ANYBODY'S bank accounts!"

"Fuck, you do it all the time!" Michael protested.

"Not to do funds transfers!" Frohike pointed out the distinction. "It's not like your sister has a lot of money, you know."

"Yeah, if you're gonna steal money from somebody, do it from like Papa DuPont or somebody worth stealing from," Langly interjected.

"Langly, shut up!" Frohike admonished him harshly. "Michael, in spite of the comments of my associate here, the fact is, we do not steal from people's bank accounts. At least we don't steal money."

"You steal information all the time," Michael pointed out.

"Information is different. Information should be free to anyone who wants it. Ergo, it can't be stolen." A Frohikism if there ever was one. "But if I find out you ever stole money from somebody's accounts again, your sorry little ass will be at the Cardboard Box Sheraton faster than you can take another breath! Am I clear on this?"

"Fine. I'm going to bed," Michael announced, and flounced out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

"So what're you gonna do?" Langly asked Frohike.

"I guess I'll send Leslie the money," he sighed.

"She's a little low in the manners department," I commented. "I thought she was going to take my head off on the phone."

"Well, she does have a legitimate reason for being upset," Frohike defended the daughter he had not seen in all likelihood since she was a child.

"Don't do it, man. Make the little brat send it himself," Langly warned.

"Langly, I'll deal with this in whatever way I think is best, thank you," Frohike reminded him. "Although you do have a point. I probably shouldn't bail him out."

"Whaddya think, Byers?" Langly asked him. Byers had been quiet throughout the exchange, not even looking up.

"Huh?" Byers suddenly snapped up, as if being awakened from a trance.

"What Frohike should do!" Langly looked at Byers as if Byers had become dense.

Byers pinked up. "I...I'm sorry. I was...busy and I missed something in there." I could guess what he'd been busy doing.

"Forget it," Langly snapped off his computer and stood up. "I'm calling it. Have fun, you guys." He got up. "C'mon, Ally." He motioned to me, and I took his arm. "Gotta g et up early and go down in the crypto mines in the morning." He was yawning now.

"And it's not even Friday tomorrow," I groaned.

"Yeah, I know." He yawned some more. "God, am I ever gonna stop being so tired?"

"When do you have to go back to see Dr. Ying?"

"I dunno."

"I thought you were supposed to see her this week."

"I'm too busy."

"I think you'd better."

"Jesus, all she's gonna do is stab me again! And I've probably got no working veins anymore!" He still had vestiges of the bruising he'd suffered at the hands of numerous IV's and blood draws, and the puncture from the marrow sampling. "And besides, she's got no idea what's wrong with me, and I don't think seeing her this week is gonna give her any better idea. And
the fact is, I'm better. So get off my case, Ally. Don't bug me." He'd gotten chilly in this discourse.

I was in no mood to argue. I wanted to get into bed with him, stroke his hair, listen to him slip off into his soft sleeping noises and feel him curl up against me. I didn't want to get into any kind of dispute at this hour of the night; it would prove nothing except that we wouldn't sleep well. Not a good byproduct.

"Okay, I won't." I could feel him relax, and we went off to bed together.
 

December 9, 1999

I was trying to work my way over the bridge into Virginia before sunset, and it wasn't happening. It was the first night of Hanukkah and I wanted to be there to light the first candle.

It wasn't snowing; in fact, it hadn't snowed yet beyond a few flurries. What did occur was that the temperatures had been tremendously cold. It had only gotten to a high of 15 degrees, and I was shivering constantly. I had enough layers on to make me look like Chilly Willy the Penguin, but I was still cold. It was expected to dip into the low single digits tonight.

The roads, however, were clear of precipitation, and the only impediments were the normal fender-benders and stalls. What the hell was going on?

(Allison, I told myself, get a grip. There is no conspiracy here. It's bad traffic and that's it. Get over it).

I pulled my cellphone from my purse and dialed Ellen's number. She wasn't at her desk-big surprise there-but I wished her a happy Hanukkah and told her to call me when she could finally come up for air. I then dialed Mulder's number-anything to relieve the boredom-and he picked up.

"Happy Hanukkah, Mulder," I greeted him.

"It's tonight? Oh shit! I promised Scully I'd get a menorah! Thanks for the call, Allison!" He hung up, leaving me chuckling. Dana was probably going out of her way to celebrate the holidays of his upbringing, and he'd spaced on what was likely the one task she'd given him. He had an incredible memory, but certain practical details seemed to escape him. He had intelligence that was devastating, perception that was preternaturally sensitive, and a wit that could slice like a scalpel. He could not, however, seem to grasp the concept of mundane details. I appreciated that in him; it made him human, approachable, and above all, entertaining.

Mulder's not knowing probably meant that Ellen wasn't in the office-she most assuredly would have reminded him.

Finally, traffic opened up-there had been a traffic break done by the police for one reason or another-and I made it with relative ease into Alexandria. I grabbed Miranda and Shelby from after-school study hall-we still weren't letting them stay in the house by themselves, and Michael was not always reliable-and made it home.

"Mom, you are making latkes, aren't you?" Miranda was checking.

"Yes, I am, but it's going to be a while. I'll start them while we wait for Langly to get his butt home."

"I wonder what's in my first package?" Miranda was tantalized. "Give me a hint here, Mom."

"Nothing doing," I announced as I parked the Sentra inside the gates. I had, to my amazement, finished the job on Saturday as planned; my feet were tired and I developed a migraine near the end of the day, meaning that Langly was forced to play nice. Which he did. He had pretty much gotten back to his old self, save for the catnaps, and he was much more agreeable than he'd been in over two months. We'd had a pleasant evening of Chinese takeout and old Godzilla movies, and I was able to shake the headache by the end of the night.

"The remake was lame," Langly announced as we popped in the original.

"It was sort of fun," I conceded.

"Nope. You either gotta do it straight or do it total camp. Seems like the director couldn't make up his mind." We cuddled on the sofa and watched large reptiles devour major metropolitan areas, and I felt immensely restored.
 

"Where the hell is Langly? It's way past sundown!" Miranda yelled impatiently after we'd been home about half an hour.

"Miranda, just chill, okay? He'll be here."

"We could watch some TV," Shelby suggested. Miranda assented, and they left me to deal with Hanukkah dinner.

Michael wandered in to raid the beer supply, and I noticed he grabbed three bottles this time.

"You guys going to join us for the fun later?" I asked him.

"Definitely for the food. Not sure about the fun," he answered as he cradled the bottles. "Never did Hanukkah before. Smells decent, though." This was high praise coming from the grumpy youth. "My dad told me I gotta get this one thing done tonight." It was not lost on me that although Michael did not address Frohike by the title, he was using it in the third person. Progress can be a slow thing, but it was encouraging to see it happen at all. He vanished out to the office. It looked as if he still had
to knock-I hadn't noticed if he had a set of keys yet. That would be genuine-and extreme-progress.

Latkes are a major pain in the ass. Delicious, but tedious to make. I finally got them assembled, cooked and drained, and set them in the oven to cook alongside the roasting lemon chicken I'd made. I went to see what the girls were up to. I was appalled to see what they were viewing on television.

"And tonight, all over the city, all over this great nation, the infidel will be celebrating a holiday that desecrates the name of Jesus Christ..." droned from the TV.

"What is this shit?" I demanded.

"We've got these born agains in our class, and they keep telling us how great this guy is, and we wanna see what all the fuss is about," Miranda responded. "Personally, I don't get it. He's like totally plastic."

"They keep saying he's cute. I don't think so!" Shelby concurred.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't watch that crap. Keep it on MTV," I told them sternly.

"MTV sucks," Miranda countered.

"Fine. Watch the Playboy channel."
 

Langly finally made it back up from the 'crypto mines,' as he called them, and we lit the first candle, just him, Miranda, Shelby and me. It was a sweet moment. I then went out back to retrieve the workers in the office and informed them that dinner was ready.

"Y'know, I can sorta get into this Jewish holiday thing," Langly stated as food was passed around. "Everything revolves around eating."

"You wouldn't like Yom Kippur," I told him.

"It was pretty cool at the end of it, though," he said. "This is like really decent looking, Ally."

"My dear, these are almost good enough to make a heathen convert," Frohike announced upon tasting a latke.

"Probably not a victim of a Catholic school education, though," Byers smiled at him.

"You went to Catholic school, Frohike?" I asked him.

"Mm-hm," he answered through a mouthful of latkes. I hoped I had enough. "Twelve years."

"God, that must have been hell," Miranda surmised. "I barely made it through four years of Hebrew school, and that was twice a week for two hours."

"I didn't know you went to Catholic school," Michael mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"I did. I consider myself fortunate that I was never able to be indoctrinated into the whole mindset of Catholicism," Frohike added.

"Did you go to Catholic school, John?" I asked Byers.

"No, I was raised nominally Episcopalian, meaning I had basically no religious education. For which I am eternally grateful," he added. "But now Juliet..."

"That's her name?" Langly asked in disbelief.

"Yes, it is her name, and she went to Catholic school for eight years. Fortunately, she seems to have recovered from the experience." He smiled.

"So when do we get to meet the lovely lady?" Frohike inquired.

"I'm...not sure. I'm going to Kat's for a few days at Christmas. Then I plan to join her."

"Where?" Langly demanded.

"I think I'd prefer not to share that information at this time," Byers gave him the evil eye.

"Why not?" Langly could be like a small child at times, when his curiosity was thwarted.

Byers looked straight and hard at him. "Because I do not want any prank phone calls in the middle of...anything. Nor would I enjoy any unexpected visitors."

Langly looked mildly affronted. "You really think we would do that to you?"

"I KNOW you would do that to me," Byers assured him. "Which is why you aren't going to find out."

"Totally unfair," Langly informed him crossly. "Me and Ally, you've seen it all."

"I hope not," Byers's response was tart. I laughed.

"Are you going to tell us about the lovely lady?" Frohike questioned him.

Byers blushed. "No, I am not."

Langly giggled. "You are like so repressed."

Byers looked over to me and rolled his eyes. "I was hoping you would be able to reform him, but alas, it appears that your efforts have failed."

"John, I'm not going to waste my effort. He is utterly incorrigible." I winked at Langly.

"But we knew that," Frohike added. "My dear, I do hate to be a glutton, but I would love to have another latke."

"Help yourself," I handed him the plate.

"What, no leftovers?" Michael demanded.

"Michael, these people are giving you free room and board of unprecedented quality. Don't push it," Frohike told him sternly.

"It's just that I'm stuffed and they're really good and..." Frohike silenced him with a Look. "What if I get hungry later?"

"What you're going to do later, Michael, is go out to the office, finish researching your article, type it up, have Byers proof it, and make any necessary corrections. At which point, I will pay you, and you will promptly transfer the money into your sister's checking account. The key word here is promptly, Michael. Am I clear?"

Michael groaned and sulked, but he wasn't as hostile as he had been in previous weeks. He didn't tell Frohike to fuck off, at any rate.

"This is really good," Shelby praised. "I could be Jewish just for the food."

"Better than being one of those born again bastards in our class. Or on TV."

I gave a disgusted look. "I caught them watching the televangelist channel."

"Which one? There're a bunch of them," Frohike informed me.

"I have no idea, but this guy was speaking of Jews as the infidel-"

"Let me see. Hair that won't shift in a hurricane? With a dye job that is only subtle at extremely high altitudes?" Frohike inquired.

"Frohike, please tell me you guys don't watch that shit. I don't think I could handle that," I moaned.

"We most assuredly do," Frohike told me. "Helps us to keep our finger on the pulse of things, you know. Now, as for believing them, I think you know the answer to that, my dear." He chuckled. He turned to Miranda. "Did you tape the show?"

"No fucking - I mean, no way," Miranda knew that Frohike frowned upon her use of foul language. He tolerated it from me, but I was an adult. At least my drivers' license said I was.

"And she's not going to. Those people are poison," I added.

"The blatantly fraudulent ones we don't concern ourselves with," Byers said. "The ones with any sort of credibility in the eyes of the public outside rural townships in the south where family trees don't fork, those are the ones we keep an eye on."

"I think they're dangerous," I stated.

"They can be." Byers was in college professor mode. "The trick is to determine who is to be reckoned with and who can be ignored."

"What about this loser the girls were watching?"

"Gary Lerch? Also known by his detractors as Gary Letch? He's mostly useless. There is some speculation that he's  somebody's mouthpiece, so we do keep our eyes open to him." Byers finished his meal. "That was delicious as always, Ally, and I thank you kindly, but I need to get back to work. I have a final exam to write by tomorrow." He excused himself.

"Yeah, and needs to send some hot e-mail to the babe," Langly muttered.

"Langly, behave, or no presents for you," I said sharply. That got his attention. Threats of physical violence and withdrawal of sexual favors had no effect on him, but the idea that he wouldn't get to open a present was almost more than he could stand. "You must have been awful at Christmas
time."

"Don't really remember," he said.

"I'm sure you were. You are now," I winked at him.

"And you love it," he taunted.

"C'mon, Mom. Presents. We're waiting already!" Miranda had reached her limit.

"Yeah, presents. Cool!"

I watched all three children bound into the living room.

END OF PART 37