Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG

Summary: Some people just can't drive...

Spoilers: Really small one for "Unusual Suspects."

Disclaimer: Martha owns them, Carter stole them. Property (for now) of 1013 Productions and Fox Television.
 

"I'm gonna let you sleep
I'll let you fade off in the night
I pray the Lord to keep
I pray the Lord to hold you tight
Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Good Guy" by Ed Roland, Copyright Roland/Lentz Music, 1993. Used without permission.
 

Uno Ictu
 

December 15, 1999

Byers's car was parked at the office when we arrived. I was somewhat surprised at first, but Frohike had probably told him to go home and let him sleep as well. Unlike Langly, who almost freaked whenever one of us hadn't been around while he was incarcerated in the hospital, Frohike seemed to want some privacy, and I was certain that Byers felt that that should be honored.

Frohike was a private man, I contemplated. He did not share confidences easily. Byers was more reserved, but Frohike seemed to go the deepest. He probably had many stories he didn't share. Not even with Byers or Langly, and most assuredly not with me.

"Shit," I just thought of something.

"What?" Langly yawned.

"We never celebrated Byers's birthday."

"We never celebrated it before. So?"

"So we should at least have wished him a happy one."

"When was it?"

"Hello! Think Kennedy assassination, think the lone gunman on the grassy knoll..."

"Oh, yeah, right."

"Keep the windows down. It's still airing out," I indicated as we stopped in the driveway.

"I hope so," Langly mumbled.
 

I was surprised to find Byers seated at the dining room table. I figured he'd be in the office. He had three huge stacks of papers in front of him, and was marking one with a red pen.

He looked up guiltily as we entered. "I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind. I just..." he didn't want to say it. It was hard to be alone right now. "Langly, do me a favor, if you please."

"I gotta take a shower first."

"When you're done. I'm way behind on grading here. Maybe you could look over some of the papers here and make comments?"

"Sure, whatever," Langly waved off and went for the shower.

"Is Michael asleep?" I inquired of Byers.

"Well, I brought him back here, and then I went home to get changed and take a shower and start grading. I was having...some difficulty concentrating. I felt that perhaps I would do better in the offices. But the girls invited me in when I arrived, and so far, this seems to be the best solution. Since I haven't heard from Michael since I deposited him in his room, I'm assuming he's asleep."

"I should probably go check on him."

"Wouldn't hurt." He yawned.

"You must be tired. Coffee?" I inquired.

"That would be very nice," he agreed, nodding in my direction. "Thank you."

"Some lunch?"

"What time is it?"

"Around 2:30."

"If you don't mind...that would be very good. Thank you."

"I've gotta feed the beast, anyway." That made Byers smile a bit. He looked great when he smiled. And when he shed the suit for a while. He was dressed in a thick grey sweater, a pair of Levis, and a plaid flannel shirt underneath. With the glasses on, his whole gestalt was different.

I rummaged through the fridge. No leftover chicken, no leftover pasta, no leftover sauce, no...not much of anything. I found four Granny Smiths left, some beers, milk, coffee, and orange juice. I'd have to do the market thing. Shit.

The freezer did yield some corn, however, and the pantry held some potatoes and onions. I could do some corn chowder. It wouldn't be as good as my mother's-nobody can do soup like my mother-but it would suffice on a cold day as comfort food.
There was one baguette of French bread left, and I could toast that with some garlic.

Cooking is always therapeutic. You're thinking about what you're doing, but it's not as if you're trying to conjugate Greek verbs or find the differential in a calculus equation. You've got your hands working, and you get a ton of satisfying sensory
feedback. I felt considerably calmer as I chopped potatoes and onions and made white sauce for the base.

Langly emerged while I was stirring my creation, sniffed, and pronounced it agreeable. I'd put a lot of pepper in it, and the kitchen was starting to take on a very comforting odor.

He still looked exhausted, but he seemed to have calmed down in the shower. I slipped my arms around his waist and just held him there for a long time, not saying anything, just listening to his heart beat, and he kissed the top of my head.

"You'd better go help him," I told him after several minutes.

"I will," he said softly. "Just...stay there for now, okay?" The embrace got a little firmer, more urgent.

"Okay," I said gently. He leaned his cheek into my hair and sighed a little. This was tough on him. I knew he didn't want to talk about it-these are guys, I reminded myself-but he obviously needed some sort of anchorage in all of it. And being the
fiancee, I reminded myself, it's in the job description. There was probably going to be a lot of "just be there" necessary in the near future.

However, the soup began to finally boil, and I released him and started serving lunch. I called the girls to come out of the dungeon and to check on Michael. They arrived upstairs unaccompanied.

"I think he's down for the count," Miranda announced.

"Fine, he can eat later," I said as I placed bowls in front of everyone. Garlic bread and sliced apples rounded out the small feast.

"What time d'you think we should go back?" I asked Langly.

"Maybe just check in on him in a little while. Don't think he's in the mood for company right now," Langly mumbled as he tried to down some soup.

"I'd like to stop by for a few minutes tonight, but I think Langly's right. I don't think he really feels up to having guests," Byers observed. "Frohike...would prefer to suffer in silence, if past experience is any indicator. He isn't comfortable having a
lot of people partaking of his experience, if you get my drift."

"I do. I think I may skip tonight, and go tomorrow. I don't have to work tomorrow, but if I don't get some food in this place, we may all starve," I decided.

"Perish the thought," Byers smiled a bit. "Actually, Ally, I don't think anyone would ever starve in this house. Now weight gain may be a different matter."

"Speaking of weight gain, have you put on any that you lost?" I looked over Langly.

"Beats the hell out of me. You could probably tell better than I could." I gave him a once-over; he didn't look quite so gaunt, but he had a ways to go yet.

"Yet another reason why the Safeway beckons."

"She's made it her mission to fatten me up," Langly explained to Byers.

"You could use it," Byers responded.

"You should wake Michael up and take him when you go," I told them.

"So he can barf in your car again?" Langly asked sarcastically.

"Please, some of us are eating," Miranda reminded him tartly.

"Langly. Frohike's his father. Michael's his kid. Take him. You have  to," I pointed at him. "Get over it, babe. That kid's not going away."

"Yeah, yeah." Langly grumbled. "Gimme some place to start, Byers." Byers handed him a stack of papers.

"This is one class?" he asked.

"It's one assignment from one class. I got...rather behind," Byers said sheepishly.

"Yeah, and we can guess how," Langly chided.

"Langly! Enough!" I raised my voice somewhat. "When do you have to have your grades in, John?"

"Tomorrow?" Byers looked embarrassed now. "I know...I shouldn't have let it get this far."

"Why tomorrow? Can't you just turn 'em in late? I always did when I was a TA," Langly whined.

"Uh, in case you've forgotten, we have a Christmas issue to get out. And I'm leaving in six days to go to Kat's."

"Christmas issue?" I was intrigued and amused.

"Conspiracy theorists get very...active around the holidays. If they don't get their extra bag of goodies, they'll be unhappy readers," Byers explained.

"So even anarchists like Christmas," I marveled. "Interesting."

"Michael's going to have to do some legwork on some of the pieces," Byers announced. "He is a pain, but he does have some...skills. And as long as he runs spellcheck, he can write."

"Ally didn't do too bad on the piece she wrote up for me," Langly reminded him. I felt secretly pleased.

"No, we've actually had some e-mail asking who AG is," Byers informed me. "If you have time, Ally..."

"I'll see what I can do."

"You don't do Christmas, do you?" Byers inquired.

"No. I mean, we always celebrated it with my parents' friends, and then with some of our friends, but I don't do my own celebration."

"A tree would be cool," Shelby piped up.

"I don't have anything to put on a tree," I reminded her.

"Langly, you're not Jewish. Tell her we oughta have a tree," Shelby reiterated.

"Ally, we oughta have a tree," he said absently.

"Did anyone hear me? We don't have decorations."

"That's what Walgreens and Target and the Rite-Aid are for, Mom," said Miranda. "And if we get a tree, does that mean we get more presents?"

"Jesus!" I still had nightmare visions of the havoc I'd wreaked on the Visa card. "Can I think about this? I mean, I'll be happy just to get through today, get my meaning?"

"I mean...I know you're Jewish and all, so...it's okay," Shelby seemed a bit ashamed.

"No, we can do it. I just don't want this to turn into a large-scale production, okay? Certain individuals already are turning a certain wedding into one." I looked pointedly at my daughter, whose shrug simply meant, "Deal with it."

"Seriously? That'd be sooo cool," Shelby smiled.

"Don't you have one at home?" Byers asked her gently.

"This is home. You're talking about my parents' house," she was being quite pointed.

"I see." I was as surprised as he was, and I just shrugged at him.
 

I decided to leave for the Safeway before it got dark; the girls balked at the notion of accompanying me, and Langly, Byers and Michael had gone off to say goodnight to Frohike. I hoped he wouldn't be upset that I'd skipped this trip. I'd spend tomorrow with him, and he might be feeling better by then.

"Now I don't have the cell phone, but Langly does, so if you have any problems, call him," I instructed them as I left.

"Mom, you're going to the Safeway. It's 2 miles away! Jesus!" Miranda rolled her eyes at me.

I stepped out into the cold afternoon. The sun was already setting, and it was growing even colder, a concept I found astonishing. Langly teased me about it, but I'd been grateful that I'd invested in a full-length down coat when it had gone on
sale. I'd freeze without it. Even with it, with thermals under my tights and my sweater, I was still cold.

Sentras don't care about the cold. They start reliably every time. I love this car, I thought. And it was beginning to smell a lot better. I put the windows up this time.

The Safeway was not terribly crowded-late Sunday afternoon is not a bad time to go, I decided. I was able to move through in good time, and even the cash lines weren't long enough to read about the latest Elvis sightings. Oh well, I thought, I can
always e-mail Mulder for the latest on that.

I'd stocked up-I hate marketing, and I figured I'd get as much as I could squeeze into my basket. I did almost pass out when the bill came to $213.63. It seemed as if we were going through a lot more groceries in recent history than ever before.

One of the few annoying things about the Safeway was that there was no light leaving the parking lot. I had to make a left turn, which was a problem during rush hour, but today, the traffic was light. I crept up to the edge of the driveway and started
to make the turn; I was clear on both sides. Hallelujah...

The last thing I remembered clearly was a very loud bang.

I woke up lying on the pavement with several paramedics hanging over me, asking me to follow their fingers, which was difficult in view of the fact that there were so many of them.

"I have to call my husband," I moaned.

"Do you know what happened to you?" A woman's voice, crisp but not  unfriendly.

"I think...my car got hit?" I was dazed.

"Sweetheart, your car got bent in half. You're lucky you didn't." I thought I recognized the voice of the paramedic who'd been in my house recently...but then, I was out of it...

"Can I go home now? My kids are at home."

"Not yet. Do you remember your phone number?" The woman's voice asked.

"Uh...736-7158...I think that's it..." God, I'm good at remembering numbers; and here I was having a hard time with my own phone number. I tried to get up, and felt a hard shock of pain in my left arm. "I need somebody to watch my kids."

"How old are your kids?" The male voice.

"14. They're both 14." I was pretty sure of that.

"Twins?"

"Huh? No, they're both 14."

"What're their names?" The woman asked me.

"Miranda...Miranda Leah...and Shelby...I can't think of her last name..."

"Miranda and Shelby Gerstein, right? That's your last name, isn't it, at least according to your driver's license?"

"Yeah. I want my fiance."

"Is it your husband or your fiance?"

"Both."

"You have one of each?" The male voice was slightly amused.

"No, no, it's Langly. Call Langly. He's got my phone."

"He's not with the girls?" the man asked again.

"No...he had to see...our friend. Our friend's sick. He had to go see
him."

"Where does your friend live?"

"He lives here. He's at the Fairfax VA...I think it's in Fairfax."

"If it's VA, that's the closest one," the male voice responded. "You said he has your phone. Your cell phone?"

"Yeah. But I can't remember the number...I don't call myself." This made both of them laugh, for some reason. I could only hear two voices, but it looked like about a dozen people were around. My head was starting to throb.

"Would your daughters know?"

"Yeah, she's the one that calls me." For some reason, I found this amusing. I tried to move my arm again, and it hurt like hell. I felt somebody wrap something around it.

"Don't move your arm, young lady," the male voice instructed. "We think you broke it. Fortunately, it's your left one."

"I'm left-handed." That much I remembered.

"Oh. Then you're really having a bad day, aren't you?"
 

I faded to black after that. The next time I was awake, I realized with alarm I was not at home. I was in an emergency room.

"Where's my family?" I started sobbing.

"They're on their way. They've been contacted," the nurse in the room assured me. "You took a pretty nasty hit there. Looks like you've got a concussion and a broken arm and you need some stitches on your head. The paramedics said you looked a
lot better than your car, though."

"My car. What happened to my car?" I started cry some more. "You don't understand. That's my car. I need it."

"It's just a car. Important thing is that you're okay. Do you remember anything?"

"Loud noise. Getting slammed. Then they were asking me about my husband and my kids and - oh, my God. I just bought all that stuff!" Things were coming back.

"What stuff? Were you Christmas shopping?"

"No. Marketing. We don't have anything in the house," I whined.

"Try to relax, Mrs. Gerstein."

"It's Langly." I decided to keep the ruse consistent. If we were going to be known at every hospital in the metropolitan area, might as well keep one story going.

"Okay, Mrs. Langly."

"I want my family." I started crying again.

"They'll be here. If you promise not to fall asleep, I'll check and see if they've-never mind, I think your entourage has arrived." A noisy crowd of teenage girls and adult males piled into the area.

"Ally, you okay?" Langly was absolutely pale. "Shit, you scared me!" I started to cry again.

"Mommy-oh, my God, Mommy, what happened to you?" Miranda started crying as well.

I beckoned her with my fingers-my right arm was attached to an IV line and the left one was bound-and she came forward. "Mommy!"

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay. I'll be fine," I murmured to her.

"Al'son, we thought you were gonna die," Shelby looked close to freaking out.

"I'm sorry, but this isn't helping," the nurse, whose nametag read "Maria Sanasardi", admonished the crowd around me. "Which one of you is Mr. Langly?"

"That'd be me," a shaky-looking, tall blonde held up one hand.

"Okay, everybody else out for now." Byers and Michael took the girls and walked them out of the area. "You can come back in a while."

Langly bent down and kissed me on my cheek, which was throbbing along with the rest of me. "You look pretty bad," he assessed.

"Thank you," I said, sobbing.

"I think Miranda's pretty scared, she didn't think what you'd look like, and I told her I didn't know, so she's not too good right now," Langly explained. "Shelby's not a whole lot better, either."

"Do I look that bad?" I was still crying. He took my one semi-free hand.

"Yeah, you look kinda scary. You've still got a lot of blood on your head. They say you've got a concussion, they think."

"And they think I broke my arm," I wailed.

"Luckily, it's her left arm," the nurse stated.

"She's a lefty," Langly told her sharply. "And she interprets for deaf people." He seemed pretty annoyed that the staff was worrying about the head injury more than the arm injury; God knows I was.

"You really have had a lousy day, haven't you, dear?"

"I think the paramedics said that to me."

She looked over Langly, taking in the ripped Levis, the combat boots, the workshirt over the Dead Kennedys T-shirt. "Can you keep her awake for a few minutes? I'll be back."

"I can usually keep her awake," he nodded.

"I usually put him to sleep," I added.

"You evil girl," he smiled at me. "How're you feeling?"

"I hurt EVERYWHERE!" I moaned. "Did you see Frohike? How's he doing?"

"He was asleep. Never woke up while we were there. Michael wanted to stay. We wouldn't let him, so he's sorta pissed at us."

"I am like so fucked, Langly. I don't have my hands, I can't work." I started up a fresh batch of tears.

He took that in. "Well, let's see. You're off till when?"

"January 6. I think."

"Okay. So you've got about three weeks to get better-but you probably'll have to wear a cast longer, if you broke it. You sign right-handed anyway."

"I need the other hand to complete most of the signs, and anyway, most of the classes I do are captioned. I'm only interpreting one section."

"And that's a two-fisted job."

"Right. And I couldn't interpret at the level necessary for the classes without both hands. I'm screwed. Joanna's probably going to fire me."

"She's not gonna fire you, Ally. She's probably gonna be annoyed that she might have to do some real work for a change, but she's not gonna fire you. Quit stressing."

"She doesn't interpret. Or caption."

"So she gets a temp! Big fucking deal! Jesus, Ally! You get clobbered real bad by a hit and runner, and you're lying there sweating over your fucking job! I don't believe it!"

"Well, it's not like we're rolling in it."

"Yeah, but it's not so bad, either. I've got money, TMB does well at Christmas, and anyway, if Eleanor finds out you got slammed, she'll probably help us out. Not to mention hire the nastiest PI attorney she can find." That made me laugh.

"I'd rather you didn't call my mother."

"Ally. I'd just as soon face a room full of televangelists as call your mom. But if she offers assistance..."

"I know, we'll take it."

"Actually, give me the televangelists. They're not as scary." I laughed a little.

"Can you get Miranda?" I asked. "I really want to see her."

"Yeah, in a minute. C'mon, let me just hold ya." He moved over towards me and tried to hug me, which was both painful and pleasing. I was giggling and crying all at once.

"It's really been a shit day," I choked out.

"Kind of the shit day to end all shit days," he agreed. "But you're gonna be okay."

"God, what am I gonna do?" I started up again. "How'm I gonna cook? How'm I gonna drive? What am I gonna drive?"

"Ally, get basic here, okay? We're not gonna starve."

"I just lost 200 bucks worth of groceries!"

"So? I'm not gonna stress over the food. The kiddies and I can get some more."

Oh Christ, I thought. I've seen the way they shop. We'll be living on Cherry Garcia and takeout pizza for weeks.

"I'll see what's happening on the car tomorrow, see if it's gonna get fixed or if it's totaled."

"Did you see it yet?"

"No, but I will."

"I appreciate that," I was still sniffing. "After I get my arm X-rayed, I should be ready to go home."

"Uh-not so fast, girl. I think they're planning to make you an overnight guest."

Now THAT got me crying in earnest. "No! I wanna go home with you and the kids!"

"Hey, take it easy, okay?" He leaned over me again. "You won't be stuck in here that long. For one thing, your HMO's lousy." I giggled but didn't stop crying.

"I gotta see Frohike!" I wailed.

"You'll see Frohike. He's okay. He's resting, he's comfy, he's doing okay. Like he didn't even wake up the whole time we were there."

"We haven't even lit the candles for seventh night!" I cried.

"Look, soon as we get outta here, the girls and me, we'll light the candles. I doubt Miranda'd let me forget, anyway."

"No, she probably wouldn't. Can you believe just 24 hours ago we were having so much fun?" I sobbed.

"Yeah, I can," he grinned ruefully. "And we'll have fun again. You ready for the kiddies now?"

"Just Miranda first. Okay?"
 

"And here she is," Langly escorted her in. She was looking better.

"Hi, Mommy." She was a little more composed. She looked up at Langly. "I wanna be alone with my mom, okay?"

"Whatever." He slipped out quietly.

"How're you doing, sweetie pie?" I asked her.

"Mom...I was like so scared, you would not believe." She began to cry. "Mom, you can't do this! I already lost Daddy..."

"Miranda. It was a fender bender." Maybe not, but why not reassure the child? She wasn't likely to see the car until it was repaired. If it was repaired.

"Mommy, don't lie to me. They said you were unconscious."

"Only for a little while. As you can see, I'm talking if not exactly walking."

"They said you broke your arm. How're you gonna take care of us all?"

"They don't know if I did or not. I have to get it X-rayed. And anyway,
I'll get by.
Okay?"

"Okay." She seemed to be in better spirits now. "When can you come home?"

"I was hoping tonight, but Langly thinks they're going to hold me captive
until morning."

"I wish you could come home tonight."

"So do I. But I want you and Shelby and Langly to light the candles even if
I have to stay
over. You know what to say."

"Okay. I can do that."

"How old is she?" demanded a staff member who came in the room.

"I'm 14!" Miranda exploded. "I'm old enough to be here!"

"Miranda, cool it," I told her.

"We're taking you to have your arm X-rayed." Must be one of the technicians.

"Okay, Miranda. Just ask everyone to wait until I get my arm done, and then I'll say hi to them, and then you can all go home." I hoped to be among them.
 

The arm was broken about three inches above the wrist. Thankfully, before I was to have it set, I was given a LARGE hit of Demerol, and I was feeling a LOT better. By the time everyone came in to kiss me goodnight, I was floating out into the ozone.

I was permitted to go home the next morning, seeing as I could remember who I was, where I lived, and other pertinent details of my existence. Byers graciously loaned Langly the Buick, with the stipulation that he turn the grades in for him. This meant he had to go to DC first, come and retrieve me, and then go back to DC if he was ever going to make it to work that day.

"I called in," he said. "Gotta go check your car out."

"Any problems getting the girls off?"

"Well...we sorta overslept, and the girls missed the bus, and then Byers and me, we were up all night grading..."

"Did you finish?"

"Yep. We did it. So he says if I take his grades in, I can borrow his ride for the day and all that."

"I'll have to thank him."

"How're you hanging, girl?"

"As long as I have this much Demerol in me, I'm fine."

"You've got a scrip for Vicodin here. Not as good," he warned. "But at least, the pain'll still be there, but you won't be." I laughed. I get really stupid on drugs.

"I'm ready to go home now. Did you bring me some new clothes?"

"Oh, fuck. Knew I forgot something."

"Langly...I can't wear this home." I pointed to what I was wearing.

"Well...let's see. You've got your skirt still, and your leggings, and your boots and your socks and your undies...looks like they got your sweater and your turtleneck. Tell you what. Just put my jacket on, and you'll get home okay. Okay?"

"Fine. I don't want to spend another second here." I tried to get up and almost passed out when I did. He took me and stood me up. "Where's my coat?"

"Uh...sorta got wrecked there. You bled all over it."

"Shit! I liked that coat!"

He laughed. "Made you look like you were walking around in one of our comforters."

"I don't care! It was warm!" He laughed some more. He slipped his jacket on me. I noticed he was only wearing a T-shirt with a thermal underneath. "What're you going to wear?"

"This'll be fine," he assured me.

"What's the temperature out?"

"9 degrees."

"You'll freeze!"

"Ally, Ally. You stress over the little stuff too much. No, don't try to put your arm in the sleeve, it's not gonna work right now. Here, I'll zip it."

"I can't believe I can't even zip my own jacket."

"Well, look on the bright side."

"And what would that be?"

"You'll smoke less."

"Langly, I'm going to have to kill you." He laughed at me.
 

"Can we go see Frohike now?" I asked once we were piled into Byers's Buick.

"No, we cannot go see Frohike now," he addressed me as though I were a recalcitrant child.

"I need to make sure he's okay," I whined.

"He'll be fine. We'll see him later. Make that I'll see him later if you don't just settle down for a while! Anyway, I gotta meet the insurance adjuster about your car, see what we're gonna do about it."

"Can I come see it?" The Demerol was wearing off, and I was growing crabbier by the moment. The arm hurt like crazy, and my head throbbed.

"You really want to?" he asked cautiously.

"It's my car. I wanna see it."

"Suit yourself. I was gonna drop you at home first, but you wanna see it, that's your business. Only after that, you're going home and taking it easy for a while. Okay?"

"Fine. Can you fill the Vicodin?"

"No problem. Let's get this over with."
 

We met the insurance adjuster at the lot where my car had been towed. He looked me over, but said nothing.

We were let into a chained yard of vehicles, and mine was several hundred yards back. Maybe I shouldn't have come, I thought. I felt like shit, and I was feeling worse every second.

"This is it?" The adjuster inquired.

"Well, those are your plates, Ally."

I looked unbelievingly at the twisted chunk of metal in front of me. It looked as though somebody tried to rip it in half. Teal paint flaked everywhere. The driver's door was totally destroyed, and all the side panels had been decimated. The windows
were shattered.

I started to sob uncontrollably. "My car!" I wailed.

The adjuster walked around it silently for a few moments, making notes and assessing the damage. He finally walked back to us.

"Lucky girl," he told me. "It's a total loss. Do you have the information from the person who hit you, ma'am."

"It's in the police report. She got sorta knocked out," Langly offered.

"It says you were hit by an oncoming Hummer. How did you not see this, ma'am?"

"Honestly. The lanes were clear on both sides before I turned left. I know they were." I was still sobbing.

"The police report says they didn't have their lights on," Langly pointed out.

"That could have been due to impact," the adjuster claimed. "Look, we can talk on the phone about this later. Take her home. She shouldn't be here, anyway."

"C'mon, Ally. Home." He wrapped an arm around me and walked me towards Byers's car.

I sat down wearily and started up a fresh storm of tears. "Langly, I didn't see anything! I really didn't!"

"Ally, c'mon, let's go home. Get some sleep. Tell me about it later."

"We've gotta hit the market," I reminded him. "There's nothing to eat."

He was losing patience. "Ally, I'll get to it, okay? Now stop worrying. Be a Jewish princess instead of a Jewish mom for just one day, okay?"

I looked down at where my arm was under Langly's jacket. It made a huge bump and made me look 9 months pregnant.

"Oh my God!" I screamed. "Langly! They cut my ring off!" Now I was hysterical.

"I know. I have the stone. We'll get it a new setting. Ally, c'mon. Chill. You gotta go home and get some rest, 'cause we still gotta see Frohike, and then we gotta pay a visit to Crazy Jaleel."

"Who's Crazy Jaleel?" I choked out.

"You'll see."

END OF PART 40