Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG. Everyone was too drunk for having sex.

Summary: She got a rock! It's not what you think, but...and a great party has a terrible ending.

Spoilers: Nope. Not this time.

Disclaimer: Carter should surrender quietly. But until he does, property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television.
 

"And the drinking was done according to the law, there was no compulsion, for so the king had given orders to each official of his household that he should do according to the desires of each person."

The Book of Esther 1:8, New American Standard Version.
 

Zerem
 

December 14, 1999

We were loving Hanukkah. It was such a kick to open a package every night, and it was always a surprise. For once, I could say I was enjoying surprises.

My gift on first night was a silver ring with a beautifully cut peridot in it-my birthstone, but more importantly, my engagement ring. I really had not cared if I got one, but I was touched to tears that Langly would go to the trouble of seeking out something so perfect for me.

"And at least we're not feeding the DeBeers monster," Langly added, referring to the blood-soaked cartel that fed the world's diamond market. He slipped the ring on, and it fit. I was amazed.

"Shouldn't be," Langly shrugged. "I stole your wedding ring from Eric to get it sized." Rather than being offended, I was amused.

Langly was enjoying his themed gifts from Miranda. She felt that he needed to lose the 80s T-shirts, and she made it her mission to provide him with a new wardrobe. So each night, he received a T-shirt, mostly with the names of various 90s punk or ska bands, and all in black. I cringed a little at the one that read "Die Nazi Punks" bearing a swastika with a slash through it, but he seemed to appreciate it.

I for one scrounged up a new motherboard for his computer in the house for first night, and he received some additional components on subsequent evenings. I received a pair of earrings and a necklace that matched my engagement ring, a pair of slippers with lion heads and tails on them, and some thick, soft thermals in the most luxurious fabric I'd ever felt. In
view of the weather, an otherwise unromantic gift turned into something intensely personal and delightful.

Miranda and Shelby of course were cleaning up like crazy, and Langly and I were having fun watching them ripping into their gifts.

It was sixth night, and we made a party out of it. My house was jammed with people. Michael, Byers, Frohike, and Shelby were of course present, but we also had Dana and Mulder bringing Rebecca over for the first time, and Ellen and her husband and two sons. Well, Ellen's husband and her two sons were there. Dave explained that Ellen had received a call from Spender, but she didn't expect to be long.

I did what any reasonable human would do for a last-minute party: threw on a ton of pasta, thawed a huge block of pasta sauce, made enough salad and garlic bread for all the starving Carthanegians, and drank a beer. As did everyone else. "A beer" would be inaccurate; by the time people had been hanging out for two hours, we had to make another run to the Safeway. I sent Michael with my car, with instructions to fold down the rear seat and make certain that it was completely covered.

The noise level rivaled that of Miranda's birthday slumber party, but Rebecca Mulder seemd to be quite at ease in it; I thought the excitement would get her upset, but she seemed happy and at ease snuggled against one of her parents. Mostly her daddy. Dana was right; unless she was screaming for food, he was positively greedy with her. Then he'd look positively lost
until Rebecca was sated, and he'd take her back, a nd he'd be smiling again.

"Think Mulder likes the kid?" Langly asked as he came out to grab a beer.

"Duh!" I was stirring sauce. "Langly, do we have enough chairs for everybody?"

"Nope. Gonna have to get the office chairs." He pulled a beer from the fridge, popped the top and handed it to me.

"I hope Ellen gets here soon."

"She will. I'd offer to help, Ally, but you know I can't cook..."

"Wouldn't want you poisoning anybody," I giggled. We sneaked in a kiss amidst the chaos. "You could, however, bring the chairs in."

"Hey, Michael can do that. He's younger than me!"

"Michael's on a beer run. Get moving, macho man." I swatted him on his very cute ass, which I had the overwhelming urge to grab right now...

The food could now be neglected until serving time, and I went back to join my guests.

"Did you save anything for me?" A loud female voice came over the din. "Hey, Al!"

"Ellen, you made it!" I hugged her.

"Well, of course I made it. Had to make a run on the way, of course." She exposed a brown paper bag that looked about the right size to contain our pal Jose Cuervo.

"You the man!" I laughed, and went back to the kitchen to blend some margaritas. I poured them into paper cups-we weren't doing elegant tonight. Ellen and Dana followed me in. Ellen grabbed a margarita as soon as I poured one; Dana stuck with her beer.

"They say beer is good for nursing mothers," Ellen concurred.

"Worked for me," I nodded.

"I'm not much of a drinker, but I'm in a holiday mood, and maybe she'll sleep a little longer," Dana smiled.

"Not exactly through the night yet?" Ellen inquired.

"Not a chance," Dana laughed a bit. "She's hungry every two hours. Sometimes every hour. I'm grateful she's gaining weight, but sometimes..."

"Probably takes after her father," Ellen stated, and we all laughed.

"She really is pretty, Dana," I signed to her. We were all in hand waving mode, and it was great.

"Glad she got your nose," Ellen commented, and we all burst out laughing again. "Anyway, you look great."

"Well, I can finally get my baggiest jeans back on," Dana grinned. She did look fantastic. She set off the jeans with a pink cardigan that accentuated the fact that she had gotten rather voluptuous up top. I doubted Mulder was complaining. She looked wonderful with her longer, wavier hair as well, and with her minimal makeup, she could easily pass for twenty.

"What is this, ladies' night out here?" Dave Sternberg came out to replenish his beer. He stopped to kiss his wife quickly and ducked back into the living room. "Have you seen Alex?"

"No. I thought he was with you," Ellen looked at her husband.

"I think the kids are in the spare room with the computer, the one we use for a photo lab," I told him.

"I hope you've got nothing valuable in there," Dave looked unnerved.

"We do, actually."

"Dave, we couldn't keep that kid from being El Destructo in a padded cell," Ellen reminded him.

"His brother is with him, and the girls. Miranda is pretty good at keeping kids in line," I assured them.

"Good. Have her let us in on her secret," Dave said drily, and returned to more masculine pursuits.

Michael came in with the dog and a case of beer. "Allison, I've determined that if you stack carefully, your car holds twelve cases of beer, no problem."

"You bought twelve cases of beer. Did I hear this correctly?" I asked him.

"Did. Could use some help bringing it in, though."

"We have plenty of male bodies cluttering up the living room," Ellen pointed out.

The male members of the crowd moved past us to retrieve the spoils from my car.

"Els, aren't you the one with the black belt in our house?" Dave queried her as he walked past.

"I also have a gun," she reminded him. He scurried out. Mulder reluctantly turned over his baby daughter to Dana, who embraced the little girl and smiled and cooed to her.

Beer cases attached to males began to appear. "Sam Adams goes in first!" Michael yelled, and emptied the case into the fridge.

"Good man." Mulder gave a thumbs-up.

Frohike was the last in, hauling a case of Corona. He looked very tired, and seemed strangely out of breath.

"You all right, Frohike?" I asked softly.

"Oh, I'm fine, my dear. I do seem to be a bit tired today."

"So let the young'uns do the heavy lifting."

"I'll do that, I think." He went back to the living room.
 

Dinner was delicious, noisy, messy. Everyone talked all at once, and loudly. For the amount of hand-gesticulating and mouth-flapping taking place, I was amazed that any eating was occurring, but everything was firmly polished off-even Tiny would be hard-pressed to find anything to lick off the plates. Beer bottles cluttered every otherwise free inch of the dining
room table. Mulder, having imbibed a little more heavily than normal, decided to fill the empties with water in varying amounts and create his own miniature symphony, a concept which delighted Ellen and Dave's two sons if for no other reason than it elevated the noise level in the room to ear-splitting decibel levels. Although Dana did not perceive the noise the
way the rest of us did, she seemed cognizant of it, and contributed her own share with her hands. After you've worked with deaf people for a while, a room full of signers no longer feels quiet.

"Langly says you guys are finally setting a date!" Mulder shouted over the din.

"Talk to Frohike and Miranda! They're in charge of the details! All we have to do is show up!" I shouted back.

"Better not be during March!"

"And why not?" It wasn't, but I was curious as to the reasoning.

"Excuse me, Allison, but do the words NCAA-Final Four-March Madness have any meaning in your life?" he yelled back.

"Yes! It means that I get some peace and quiet in March while you guys obsess over basketball!" He laughed solidly. It was fun to watch Mulder get a little drunk. Almost as much fun as watching him interact with his daughter.

Finally, Rebecca Mulder had decided her limit had been reached, and she wailed inconsolably. Dana wisely took the keys from Mulder, thanked us profusely, and bade us goodnight. Shortly thereafter, much to my relief, Ellen and Dave decided to remove their young ones from our home. Their younger son, who was affected with ADD, was utterly adorable-and a monster
to boot. Even Miranda, who is totally patient with small children, began to become exasperated with him, and when they closed the door, she slumped and let out a sharp breath.

"I can see why Ellen took a job where she can travel," she commented wryly before she and Shelby disappeared downstairs into what Langly had begun referring to as "the dungeon." I had initially protested that I felt the description was perhaps a bit strong, but he pointed out that in order to get to the bathroom on that level-which was the one most accessible to the offices-one had to navigate Miranda's room, and with Shelby in there with her, it was at best treacherous. I shut up after that. And I hadn't even looked in Michael's room-there were just things in the world better left unseen.

The five of us were in the living room, nursing the beers we were holding-well, four of us were drinking. Frohike had been extremely quiet all evening, and not seeing him with a beer was a bit unsettling.

"I can't deal with this mess. Can't we just move?" I moaned to Langly.

"Whaddya mean? It's a great house!" He was pretty ripped; I could hear him slurring.

"It's a mess," I protested.

"I'll give you a hand," Byers said between sips, but made no move to get out of the chair he was in.

Frohike had said nothing. Finally, he turned to his son.

"Michael, pick up the empties," he said wearily.

"I'll get to it." Michael was beyond smashed. He was borderline passing out. To my relief, though, he'd not gotten unpleasant all evening, and in fact had been helpful in distracting Steven and Alex Sternberg from destroying all of our worldly possessions.

"Michael, do it now," he reiterated, slightly irritated now.

"All right already! Jesus! It wasn't like I wasn't gonna do it, you know!"

"Frohike, it's okay, we'll get to it in the morning." I was really looking forward to that. I hoped I wouldn't be too hung over.

"Hey, Frohike, you okay?" Langly sounded concerned, but he was so ripped it came out almost like he was giggling.

"I'm fine. I'm tired and I have a headache."

"You can stay on the sofa, if you'd like," I offered.

"No, thank you. I'll just go home, my dear."

"I'll take you," Byers offered.

"No, it'll take you out of your way," Frohike protested.

"If you're not feeling well, I'm driving." Byers rarely got stubborn about things, but when he did, he was not to be fucked with. He was stubborn now.

"Wan' me ta take ya?" Michael was in the final stages of consciousness.

"No, I think I'd like to get back alive." Frohike was uncommonly short with him. "You're disgustingly drunk, Michael."

"No' like you never done it," Michael mumbled as he began to lapse into a stupor.

"That boy is going to drive me insane," Frohike grumbled.

"Drive you insane? You mean you're not there yet?" Langly giggled. He was really stupidly drunk, as opposed to Michael, who was stuporously drunk. This meant that I could look forward to amorous intentions without much performance ability behind it tonight. He'd be in the mood, but we'd end up doing more giggling than anything.

Frohike was not up to dealing with Langly's juvenile banter. "Comments from the peanut gallery will not be appreciated."

Langly's pale eyes opened wide. "Well, excuse me!" He huffed mockingly.

"C'mon, I'm taking you home, and don't argue with me," Byers informed him. "Are you ready?"

"In a moment." He sank back into the chair. He looked over in my direction. I was smoking a cigarette. "Allison, please put that thing out. I'm having trouble breathing with you doing that."

"Sure. I'm sorry." I stubbed it rapidly, if not well.

"C'mon, let's go. It's late," Byers prodded.

"I said I'm coming," Frohike snapped at him. This was weird. Frohike was normally the most agreeable of men. He didn't get into snapping like Langly did, and Byers almost never pushed his buttons the way Langly did.

Finally, Frohike started to push his way out of the chair, and when he did, he grabbed his side as if he'd been shot. He could barely breathe.

"Call 911!" Byers barked out. I went to the phone cradle, and of course it had migrated. I ran into our bedroom, where that phone fortunately had not wandered off.

Alexandria is a small city and has a decent paramedic force, and it was less than five minutes before they showed up. The girls had heard the commotion and had raced upstairs.

"What the hell?" Miranda demanded.

"We think...Frohike might have had a heart attack," I whispered to them. I was almost in tears.

"Oh, shit!" Shelby hissed.

Miranda looked dazed. Then she burst into tears. Shelby wrapped her arm around Miranda and walked her out of the room.

It was decided that Byers would go along with Frohike, and Langly and Michael would meet up with them. I would stay with the kiddies. Thank you for John Byers in an emergency, I prayed to no one in particular. We'd probably never get it together.

Frohike was carried out, with Byers nearby, talking softly to him, and Langly launched his attack on a now-passed out Michael.

"Get your lazy, sorry little ass up!" He shouted at the sleeping youth.

"Wha---" Michael was still comatose.

"I said, we're outta here, you little asshole!"

Michael came to. "What the fuck?!"

I knew that Langly was not upset with Michael, but had been totally shaken by the incidents that Michael had stayed blissfully unconscious for. I stepped forward.

"We think your dad may have had a heart attack," I said quietly to him.

"You're shitting me," his eyes narrowed blearily at me.

"Wish I was. Go on, go with Langly. Your dad and John are already on their way to the hospital."

Michael was uncomprehending; then the horrible reality of it slammed him in the guts.

He started to cry.
 

In the chaos, I'd forgotten to ask which hospital Frohike had been transported to. I hoped Langly would call as soon as possible. I'd tossed him my cell phone as he and Michael were on their way out. Langly was still obviously shaken, and Michael was a total wreck, but Langly had stopped cursing him out at least.

"I think you could cut him a little slack right now," I'd hissed at Langly as they headed for the car.

"Yeah, yeah." Langly sounded penitent enough. It would probably be a quiet trip over.

There's nothing like a 911 emergency to sober you up in a hurry. I knew I wouldn't sleep, so I decided to tackle the mess from the party, which now seemed light years away. Less than an hour and a half prior, we'd all been laughing and screaming and
drinking. Now...

One of the paramedics had looked around the place as he worked. "Just have a party here?"

"A Hanukkah party. Sixth night."

"I'd hate to see what nights seven and eight would look like," he chuckled.

Well, nights seven and eight were going to be pretty subdued now.

I was putting plates in the sink when the girls came upstairs.

"We couldn't sleep," Shelby explained, as if she needed to.

"Want some help?" Miranda offered, which nearly made me fall over. Miranda will do things if prodded, but she almost never offers on her own to do any sort of household chores.

"Sure. There's plenty of mess to go around."

"We'll count the empties," Shelby decided. They grabbed a plastic trash bag and took it in the dining room.

I counted off dishes as I cleaned them for the dishwasher. Plates, bowls, dessert plates, glasses, forks, knives, spoons, serving utensils...anything to keep my mind occupied. And why hadn't Langly called yet?

"You guys drank 83 beers tonight," Shelby announced.

"Let's see, 9 adults drinking..." Miranda was calculating it out.

"Some of us had more than others. I had only 5 beers," I announced.

"Yeah, but you switched over to tequila for a while," Miranda reminded me.

"I had two margaritas. I think my consumption put me on the lower end tonight."

"Michael definitely had the most," Shelby asserted.

"No question about that," I confirmed.

"Langly was next," Miranda figured. "Did he take your car, Mom?"

"Probably. Mine is running," I said drily. His was currently suffering from problems in the electrical system.

"Hope he doesn't get stopped," Miranda commented. Great. I needed to worry about more things. On the other hand, Frohike's collapse seemed to have shaken him hard, and I was certain that if he was going to make mistakes, they'd be more based on emotional distress than on alcohol consumption.

"Then I think Ellen and Mulder tied," Shelby estimated. "They were happy, but not shitfaced."

"Ellen went over to tequila for a while. She probably beat him by a margin," I cast my vote for the tiebreaker.

"Then Mom was next. God, Mom, you were a lightweight tonight," Miranda shook her head.

"I was also the cook."

"Then Dave. He's fairly cool for a rabbi. I think their kids are brats," Miranda stated flatly. "Steven acts like he is all that, and Alex-well, that kid is hopeless."

"They are a bit wild," I agreed.

"Wild? No, Mother. Langly gets wild sometimes. These kids are brats!" I would have to tell Langly that Miranda had just categorically equated him with two small boys. He'd love that. "Then Byers. He usually doesn't have many, but I think he was having fun."

"Dana didn't drink much, but she's got the baby," Shelby observed. "And Frohike had one. I was shocked. I mean, normally the dude just packs it down!" Out of the mouths of babes.

"Should've given Alex a couple beers. Maybe he wouldn't have been so crazy," Miranda muttered. I laughed; the thought had occurred to me several times throughout the evening, except that I wanted to enhance his with a few hundred Valium.

"So where'd they take him?" Shelby asked.

"Good question. I'm not sure. I suspect to the VA, but I'm waiting for Langly to call."

"I hope he's okay." Miranda was over her initial crying attack, but new tears were lurking far too close to the surface for comfort. "I mean, if something...happens, who's gonna help me plan your wedding, Mommy?"

I went over and hugged her, a big bear hug. Shelby worked her way in, and it turned into a group hug.

"Don't get stressed about the wedding, honey. It's not a big deal." I embraced her hard, trying to reassure her. And myself, for that matter.

"Well..." she looked up at me a bit guiltily.

"Yes?" I became suspicious instantly.

She and Shelby passed a Look between themselves.

"Well...Frohike and me started doing the guest list, because we needed to know how big a place to get."

"Uh-huh. And what have you come up with?" I was expecting an outrageous figure, like 175.

"Uh...well, so far, we've got 493." She looked sheepish.

Hadn't I had enough excitement for one night?

I blinked, unbelieving.

"Run that figure by me again," I admonished her.

"Uh...we came up with 493. So far."

I soaked this information in.

"YOU INVITED 493 PEOPLE TO OUR WEDDING?!"

"Well, we haven't-"

"Miranda, I don't know 493 people! I can't afford that many people even if I did!"

"Relax, Mom, I talked to Grandma."

"You...talked...to Grandma." Great.

"I told Grandma she could bring anybody she wanted, and she said she'd pay for the whole thing. Since she didn't pay for your first wedding," Miranda added.

"Okay, so that's 200 people right there," I did some quick mental math.

"Close. 167. Anyway, Grandma says she'll pay for the whole thing, as long as there's open bar from beginning to end." Okay, that sounded like my mother.

"And then there's your friends in LA...and all Langly's friends...and my friends...and the longtime TMB readers...and your family...and Langly's family..."

"Langly's family...they don't talk to him."

"Mom, this is a wedding, okay? We have to ask 'em!" Miranda looked at me as if I were the village idiot.

"That's going to go over well," I mumbled.

"...and Mrs. Scully...and the Fibbies...and yeah, we're gonna ask your boss, too. I know you think she's kind of a loser, but she might give you a present, and anyway, you have to ask her."

"You're right, I do," I agreed. "Don't forget Langly's supervisor."

"We didn't," she gave me the are-you-stupid look again. "So anyway, Mom, you gotta pick out enough bridesmaids so that we have enough to go with the ushers. Frohike thinks we need four or five."

"With that many people, yeah."

"So who's gonna be your maid of honor?" Shelby asked.

I looked up at my daughter. "That's easy." I gave Miranda a squeeze.

"Oh, wow, that's so cool! I mean, I wanted to at least be a bridesmaid!" She was jumping with delight.

"And Shelby can go down right ahead of you."

"Cooool." Shelby was happy, too.

"Okay, so now you just gotta pick out like three more people," Miranda said cheerfully.

"Let me sleep on that one, okay? Miranda, keep in mind...this is a monster production you're talking about here. And Frohike may or may not be able to help you out with this." I sighed.

"Oh, I talked to Dana tonight. She says if I have any questions to call her mom."

"This is true. If anybody could pull it together, it's Mrs. Scully. Tell you, though, sometimes that lady scares me." That earned a good laugh from both girls.

"Why? I think she's pretty cool," Miranda looked baffled.

"Does the phrase, 'Vee have vays of making you talk!" strike fear into your heart?" That got me another laugh. "I always thought Maggie Scully should be the FBI agent, not her daughter."

"You said Dana was a good agent," Miranda protested.

"She is. But the crime rate in this country would go down overnight if Maggie Scully got anywhere near the criminal justice system."

The phone shrieked out. "Where is the fucking cordless?" I could hear it, but couldn't see it.

"I think it's in the sofa cushions. I had to hide it from Alex," Miranda called out after me. "He wanted to take it apart."

"Thank you," I caroled to her absently. "H'lo?"

"He had a heart attack," Langly launched in without preamble.

"How's his condition?"

"Don't know. We still can't see him," he whined.

"Where are you guys?"

"VA Hospital in Fairfax."

"Bit of a hike."

"Closest one."

"Hope it wasn't too long..." I didn't want to finish the sentence.

"Hope not, either."

"How're you doing, babe?"

"Me? I've been better," he said shortly.

"And Michael?"

"Byers took him off my hands for now. Thank God."

"So what's the plan?"

"We're gonna hang here and wait and see what's up. Kiddies asleep?"

"No, they're right here with me. They were worried."

"Yeah, aren't we all? Hey listen Ally..."

"Yeah?"

"You got any upholstery cleaner?"

"What?!"

"Well...Michael sort of barfed all over the inside of your car."

"Wonderful."

"Tell me about it." He groaned audibly.

"Take it to the wash in the morning, we'll air it out tomorrow, what else are we gonna do?" I shook my head.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go find Byers, see what's up. Know what, Ally?"

"Enlighten me."

"I really hate hospitals." I had to laugh.

"At least you're not at the wrong end of the needle this time," I told him.

"Doesn't matter. Now I know what it was like for you...you know, when I was sick..."

"Call me back when you know something."

"I will. Love ya." He cut the connection.

END OF PART 38