Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG

Summary: What a mess. But I couldn't resist the quote.

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I'm not sure, but I think they really belong to Gizzie and Martha...in spite of the fact that 1013 Productions and Fox Television claims them as their own.
 

"I don't give a fuck what you don't know. I'm going to torture you, anyway."

Michael Madsen in "Reservoir Dogs", Copyright Paramount Pictures and used without permission.
 

Haimatekchusia
 

January 8, 2000

It should have been a restful, pleasant week, one full of preparing to return to work full-time at the end of the month, with kids back in school, with holiday guests having departed, and with life returning to whatever passes for normal in our world. It didn't work out that way.

I spent Sunday trying to convince Joanna that I should be permitted to sign one class, the one I interpret as opposed to caption, but she was adamant that I didn't. She was skeptical of my ability to be proficient and was concerned that I was going to further injure myself, and she wouldn't allow me back until the cast had been removed. I was utterly annoyed with her; I love what I do, and I wanted to get back and see my students and feel like a useful member of society again.

I was tempted to ask her about her dinner with Frohike, but she didn't volunteer any information, and I wasn't tacky enough to ask. She was, after all, still my boss. Besides, what if it hadn't been her that had been dining with him? That was bound to be awkward. Just a little.

Michael had spent the majority of the weekend putting the Mustang back together, with Langly helping him out on Sunday, and it was actually in driveable condition by Monday morning, which was good, since Mulder had provided a list of therapists in the area that he respected and liked, and one of them offered to see Shelby that day, meaning I had to be able to drive.

It would have been fun to get out and drive anything at this point; it was a bonus that the Neon was easy and fun to handle. I was pleased with my new little car, which I FINALLY was driving.

Miranda and I both accompanied Shelby to the offices of Dr. Elizabeth Shawe. Although Shelby spoke with her alone, I was gratified that Mulder had made such a recommendation; it was obvious she was a warm, compassionate woman. Dr. Shawe was a psychiatrist, meaning that if she felt Shelby could benefit from any sort of medication support, she would be in a position to provide it. Shelby had sulked at the idea of seeing a therapist, but once she met Dr. Shawe, she became calmer. Dr. Shawe was a large, full-figured woman in her fifties with a whiskey-soft voice and a soothing manner. And her hair was the same color as mine-light red. Mulder must have a thing for redheads, I mused.

I had never thought of short-distance, about-town driving as being particularly tiring, but by the time we arrived back home, I was exhausted and felt a headache coming on. Which was ridiculous. It had been weeks since the accident, and I'd been feeling fine. Then again, I hadn't taken a lot of road trips. I curled up on the sofa and dozed off until the girls shook me awake and announced that Langly was home and they were starving.

Even without my glasses on, I could tell that Langly was in a bearish frame of mind. He looked shell-shocked, and didn't even look at me when he sat down by me on the sofa.

"Let me guess. Really bad day."

"Really bad day."

"What went down?"

"Remember Skulk?"

"Skulk. Wasn't he the first guy I met at Black Hat?"

"Yeah, that was him. Was being the operative word here." He choked back on something-a sob?

"What happened?"

"Skulk died the end of November. And I didn't find out till today. Shit!" In addition to being saddened over the loss of a friend, he was very angry. The eyes were cold, the mouth set in a hard line.

"How'd you find out?"

"I'd tried contacting him a couple times when I got over being sick. Didn't hear from him, and a few people on the BBS's mentioned that he'd sorta dropped out of sight. Renegade checked into it more, and we found out we'd lost a friend. Fuck!"

"I'm sorry, babe. Great way to start the week, huh?"

"Yeah, right."

"What'd he die of?"

"Some kind of weird virus. He had this fever he couldn't get rid of, and finally, I think his brain fried out."

"Oh. My. God." I began freaking quietly.

"Yeah, oh my God doesn't even get there," he snarled. "Ally, it sounds like he had something like I had. I'm wiggin'."

"Babe, it could have been a lot of things. Did you get his medical records?" This would be an absurd question to direct to a normal individual, but I'd long ago gotten over the idea that we were normal individuals.

"Trying to. And that's what's weird. When I tried to do it, I set off some kind of trap, and now I've got a problem. I thought it was a clean hack."

"Can't you just say it was work-related? I mean, breaking security is part of your job."

"I didn't even break into anything government-related. This was insurance records. His fucking HMO. And now they know who I am. And I wasn't doing it for work purposes. I should've waited until I got in the offices. That was stupid."

"Your supervisor know?"

"Sheridan? Yeah, he knows. He says not to get bent over it. Says that HMO's are more paranoid than the CIA. Though he did says something about not doing personal shit on company time. Shit. Ally, I haven't fucked up a hack since before I went to Lompoc Country Club."

"Maybe you didn't fuck up the hack."

"And maybe I did. Shit. I've gotta recreate this whole scenario and see where I screwed up. Simulate it, I mean." He turned to me. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine...just sort of tired. I fell asleep when I got home from Shelby's appointment."

"Yeah, how'd it go?"

"Mulder did good. Shelby seemed very at ease with this woman."

"Good, one less thing to worry about. You sure you're okay? You look like shit."

"Thank you, Langly. You really know how to elevate a girl's self-esteem."

"I didn't mean you look like shit, I mean...you just look tired and kinda pale, that's all. Thought you might not feel so hot."

"I'm okay. I think I'll head for Boston Market and grab some dinner. Okay by you?"

"Whatever. I got work to do. Bring it out to me when you get back?"

"Sure. Good luck."
 

I fell asleep on the sofa after having some dinner. I was really beat, and the headache, instead of abating, seemed to be getting worse. I downed some Excedrin in hopes of some relief, but sleep seemed to be the only escape from it.

I was roused somewhat by a hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, Ally. Bedtime."

"What time's it?" I groaned.

"After 2. Kids get up at 6. Let's go, little redhead."

"I don't wanna move."

"C'mon, I'll help you." He pulled me up and into him. "Hey, little redhead, you're warm. My turn to torture you."

"I just wanna go to sleep, babe," I protested.

"Yeah, and you really listened to me when I said it. Where do you keep that thing?"

"What thing?"

"Your ear thermometer."

"It's in the cabinet under where I keep my contact lens stuff. I think that's where I put it." I dropped on the bed and closed my eyes. I barely heard him when he appeared a few minutes later.

"Okay, let's see, this shouldn't be too hard, just turn it on-"

"Babe, if I can do it, you can figure it out no problem. Ouch! Not so hard!" I winced.

"Says you are heated to a temperature of 100.1 degrees Farenheit. You take anything?"

"Excedrin. Earlier."

"What time?"

"After I brought you dinner."

"That was like six hours ago. I'll get you a couple more." He had to rouse me again when he reappeared bearing gifts of Excedrin and water.

"Maybe you oughta see Dr. Ying tomorrow."

"Langly, I probably got whatever I got from Miranda. She's had a bad cold, you know. Besides, you're the one supposed to see Dr. Ying."

"Yeah. I'm supposed to see her Thursday."

"You're actually going?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry about Skulk, babe."

"Me, too." He started unbuttoning my shirt and removing my skirt and leggings, then pulled his glasses off and crawled into bed next to me. I slipped my good arm over him, pulling him near.

I thought I might have heard a sob in the dark.
 

January 9, 2000

With a lot of Excedrin and a few catnaps, I'd been able to work through the two previous days without incident. I figured it was whatever Miranda had picked up-occupational hazard of having school children-and I would be fine.

I wish.

I woke up at 4:00 a.m, dazed and in pain. I was freezing to death. I pulled up the extra comforter from the bottom of the bed-Shelby still wandered in at night, but thankfully she took the hint about the sleeping bag-and wrapped it around me, trying to create a cocoon where I could get warm. I needed some Excedrin, but I didn't have the energy to make it to the kitchen, which was where I was pretty sure I'd left it. My limbs felt like lead, and every movement was punctuated with a spasm of pain.

No, I thought, this can't be happening. What Langly had had...it wasn't contagious. Was it? Who knew. Dr. Ying didn't. Maybe it was something altogether different.

Whatever it was, I thought, so this is what you feel like in hell.

Langly was zonked out totally-he'd gotten very little sleep this week, and the last thing I needed was him running himself into the ground. I tried to relax to the rhythm of his small sleeping noises, pace my breathing with his, and I slipped my head over to his chest to listen to his heart beat. I'm lucky-he's a big guy with plenty of real estate there, and I snuggled into him, desperately trying to get comfortable.

Still unconscious, he reached one long arm over me and pulled me loosely into him. He murmured something unintelligible and fell back into a deep, hard sleep. In spite of being swaddled in heavy quilts and being pressed against his warmth, I couldn't stop shivering. My throat screamed for mercy and my head throbbed. I fell into a fitful sleep that didn't relieve me in
the least.

When the alarm went off, it was as if it were somewhere else, almost like watching a movie. I couldn't bring myself to even reach for it.

"Ally," Langly whispered sleepily, "don't you gotta get the kids up?"

"Babe," I whimpered, "can you do it?"

It took him a few minutes to grasp this.

At the risk of making an understatement, I groaned to him, "I'm not feeling too great."

"Thought you were getting better...whoa." He woke up with a start. "You're on fire, girl." He'd brushed his fingers over my face and drew back sharply. "Okay, lemme get the kiddies. Shelby?" He nudged the sleeping figure on the floor next to my side of the bed with his foot. "Let's move it, kiddo. Show time."

Shelby didn't move for a few minutes. When Langly came back to the bedroom, he was carrying the ear thermometer. He nudged Shelby again, this time a little more sharply.

"C'mon, you'll be late," he admonished her impatiently. "And tell 'Randa to get her butt in gear."

Shelby sighed heavily and staggered from the room. I felt a hard piece of plastic enter my ear canal, causing a fresh spasm of pain to surge through my head. I felt tears beginning to sting my eyes. Worse, my abdomen was cramping up again. This had been going on for several weeks, on and off-probably impending menopause, I thought, and I'd shaken it off. Now it caused a wave of pain to flood through me, and it was getting hard not to let the tears leak out.

"Congratulations. You have reached a new high of 103.2 degrees. You're the winner this morning, Ally." Usually his offbeat humor made me laugh, no matter what, but today, it opened a fresh stream of tears, which seemed to throw him off. He bent over and murmured, "Hey, hey, it's okay. C'mon, let me get the kiddies out the door, and I'll come back to ya. Okay?"

"'Kay," I whispered, not being able to produce volume higher than that. "But you gotta get to work."

"I'll get to work, okay? Have to go see the vampires at 9. I'll take you with me. I was gonna go in late because of that, anyway."

I had no idea how much time had elapsed when he returned. I was dozing fitfully; the world had taken on an unreal quality to it. I couldn't get warm, I couldn't think, I couldn't get comfortable.

I understood now why Langly had balked so much at being moved when he was sick. It was like primitive torture. And I had the advantage of being smaller; he actually picked me up, wrapped in a blanket, and carried me out to the car. I thanked whoever I should for giving me a big, sturdy guy who could do this stuff.

We had to sit in Dr. Ying's waiting area for a while; she'd had an emergency and couldn't see her patient from hell right away. All I remember was being wrapped in a blanket, Langly cradling me tightly on his lap. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, and I could not have cared less. Even if I couldn't physically get comfortable, I felt warm and secure with him, like nothing
bad could happen.

He was finally called, and he set me down, indicating I needed to walk this time.

"Well, who have we here?" Dr. Ying greeted us. "The patient from hell and his lovely wife." She apparently had not forgotten our little fiction from Langly's stay in the hospital. She examined Langly while I dozed, and then I felt her tiny hands on me. I did hear her reprimand Langly as she probed me.

"This is one of the reasons you were asked to come back," she said to him severely. "I understand your aversion, but I had no way of knowing if what you had was contagious. It may not be the same thing-testing will reveal that-but if it is, you may have cost us some time." This woman can work the guilt, I contemplated. Must have had a Jewish mother back in there
somewhere. It must have been working, because I heard no smart-assed feedback from my husband-to-be, and that was a rare occurrence. Then I remembered Skulk...

"I think a friend of mine might have had this," he told her softly.

"Oh? And what was the outcome?" She inquired clinically.

"He died." His voice was very quiet, childlike. "You don't think this is happening to Ally, do you?" The voice, still very soft, had taken on a slightly frantic quality.

"I have no way of knowing until I run some lab tests. Now go get some blood drawn. By the way, are you acquainted with a Dr. Dana Scully-Mulder?"

"She's our friend," I rasped.

"She requested that she be allowed to help investigate this. And with your permission, I'm going to allow her to do so. Right now, I can use all the help I can get. I've never seen so many unusual illnesses as I have this winter."

"Scully? Yeah, why not?" Langly consented. "She's a smart girl."

"That she is. I only vaguely know her from conferences and conventions, but we have many mutual acquaintances. And from what I understand, she's in the process of making a career change from law enforcement back to academic medicine."

"She is. We'll be working together again," I offered. Just speaking was exhausting.

"Fine. Now you-" she pointed a tiny finger at Langly, "down the hall, give up some blood, and then take her to GWU. I'm admitting her."

"No!" I whimpered. "I gotta take care of my kids."

"How many children do you have?"

"Two," Langly said quickly, not explaining the web of relationships that tangled up our existence. And made it all worthwhile, my addled brain put in.

"How old are they?"

"14."

"Twins?"

"No...it's sort of complicated," I couldn't speak anymore. Dr. Ying didn't seem to require an explanation, though; how we came to have these children didn't appear to concern her.

"Well, they're old enough to help themselves, and I'm sure you have plenty of people to help you, if the entourage you had at GWU was any indication," she directed at Langly.

Langly shrugged. "They're like American Express. Don't leave home without 'em."

She'd had enough of his stalling. "Get your blood drawn, Mr. Langly, and take care of your wife."
 

I cried all the way to GWU. I didn't want to be away from Miranda and Shelby. I wanted to be in my own bed with Langly. I wanted my animals to come join me. The only thing that mildly amused me was the idea that Langly, over six feet tall and stubborn as they come, had been outmaneuvered by a four-feet, eleven inch Chinese woman with a voice like a child's.

I really don't know how long it took to be admitted-I think it was somewhere near forever. There were no beds available for a time, and I laid in the hallway on a gurney, Langly sitting near me, stroking my hair.

"Know what really sucks about being out here?" He commented. "No TV." I wanted to giggle, and couldn't. "Least when you get a room, we can flip on the cartoons."

"Don't you have to go to work?" I asked him.

"Not according to Sheridan. I called him. He knows what's up. Maybe I'll go in tonight."

"Sheridan sounds righteous."

"Sheridan's pretty okay. He knows his audience, so he leaves us the fuck alone and lets us do our jobs."

"You know I haven't met him yet."

"Nah, but you will. He's cool, for a guy who likes guys."

"I didn't think you could be in the military if you were gay." Conversation was painful and wearing, but it was passing the time.

"Sheridan's intelligence. Retired from the military now. A civilian like the rest of us. I think he managed to keep it quiet, and anyway, he's a smart guy, they need him, and they probably just pretended he liked girls."

"What's he look like?" Anything to keep my mind going.

"He's mulatto. Half black, one quarter white, one quarter Spanish. Blue eyes, though. He's used to being in minority populations. Guy's pretty sharp."

"Can't have been easy for him," I rasped out.

"Nope." He seemed to sense I couldn't talk anymore, and took my small hand in his long, slender fingers. "How're you hanging, Ally?"

"I wanna go home. I want my kids," I whimpered.

"I'll bring the kids later," he promised. While they were looking you over, I called Byers, and he's coming over after class today and he'll be around. Frohike's already there working, and Michael's around today. As usual."

"At least he got your car back together."

"Yeah, first bit of useful work he's done in a while."

"Langly, you said yourself he can write, and he can do some hacks pretty well. And he starts school on Monday, so he'll be around less."

"I can deal with that."

"Babe, he's really not a bad kid."

"I know...it's just...the way he treats Frohike sometimes, it's like, he doesn't know how lucky he is he's got a father. And one who gives a fuck about him."

"He gives a fuck about you, too, babe. Some people are just born to be fathers. Frohike's one of 'em. Pisses me off he was denied his kids for so long. I bet Michael would be a lot less obnoxious if he had."

"Well, I don't think I'm one. Natural born one, anyway."

"You've done great with Miranda. And with Shelby."

"Yeah, but I get to capitalize on somebody else's groundwork. And tell the truth, I don't have a clue what I'm doing most of the time."

"Welcome to parenthood," I smiled weakly.

"I dunno. Sometimes I think Miranda hates me."

"Sometimes she does. She's 14. What do you expect?"

"And then sometimes, she's like my best bud and everything's cool."

"You think it's different for me?"

"Well, yeah. You're her mom, and she's like...she's your own flesh and blood."

"No, Langly. You don't become a parent by giving birth. You become a parent by getting to know that child and growing along with it." I forced myself to smile again.

"Maybe there's some potential there, then," he smiled slightly.
 

I finally was assigned to a room. All GWU's rooms are tiny, but they are private. I slept fitfully while Langly flipped between CNN and the Cartoon Network. GWU has cable.

I was semi-awake when Dr. Ying made an appearance. "Mrs. Langly. How is the wife of the patient from hell?" She shot Langly an evil smile. He scowled at her.

"I feel like shit," I moaned.

"Well, that's understandable," she nodded. "Can you turn down the TV a bit, Mr. Langly? I love Tiny Toon Adventures, and I'll get distracted." This made both of us laugh; we both love Tiny Toons as well.

"Okay. We are finding the same sort of viral pattern in your blood as we found in your husband's here." She jerked her pen towards Langly. "I'm going to start using high doses of anti-inflammatories; it was the only thing we had any success with last time. And by the way, you didn't say that you were pregnant."

"What?!" Langly was suddenly paying more attention.

"I didn't know I was," I said numbly.

"Well, you are. Unfortunately, Mrs. Langly, there isn't going to be a baby this time. It's ectopic. I'm guessing from the ultrasound that you're about twelve weeks along, although with an ectopic, it's hard to say."

"Wha-" I was having trouble taking this in, and Langly looked as though somebody had drained all the blood from his face.

"You did say you'd had cramps and some bleeding on and off," she directed to me.

"Yeah, but I'm 44, and I thought menopause was rearing its head," I said weakly.

"Sometimes that's normal. Or not. When was your last regular period?"

"Christ, I don't even remember. September something? I think? I really don't know...we've been pretty busy and I didn't really keep track..."

"Fuck." Langly was dazed, shaking his long whitish mane. "So what happens?"

"Well, it's a case of balancing out which risk is more dangerous," she stated in her best clinical voice. "Ordinarily, with a fever that high, I'd not recommend surgery, but the risk from an ectopic pregnancy is far greater-"

"Say what?" Langly was not absorbing this well, and neither was I, even though with two miscarriages under my belt, I was familiar with the drill.

"Ectopic pregnancies can kill, Mr. Langly. She could hemorrhage internally, and it'd be pretty bad. I'm sending Dr. Millikan from OB/GYN in to see you shortly. He'll discuss the surgery with you, any potential complications-"

"This is not happening," Langly covered his face with his long hands. "Tell me this is not happening." He was totally white, and as dazed, confused, upset and ill as I was, I was a lot more worried about him.

Dr. Ying put her tiny hand on his shoulder. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Langly.For both of you." She quietly slipped away.
 

Dr. Millikan showed up not long after, and we were a mess. I could barely cope with staying awake, much less the news that 1) I was pregnant, 2) I was seriously ill and 3) the pregnancy was doomed.

"You think it's because of all the alcohol and cigarettes?" Langly demanded of him, and I winced guiltily.

"Well, they don't help," he conceded. "I'd say it was primarily due to her age and gynecologic history, though. Mrs. Langly," it was getting to be humorous hearing myself referred to that way-your brain does strange things when you're ill, "because of your history and your age, I recommend sterilization in addition to the D & C and removal of the Fallopian tube."

I looked up at Langly. He shrugged helplessly. "Looks like that's the way it's gotta be. You okay with that, Ally?" He sounded dispirited, tired, resigned.

No, I wanted to scream, I'm not okay with any of this. This sucks. We should have had a chance...

"Yeah."

"If this were to happen again," Millikan explained, "she might not be so lucky. In a sense, it's fortunate you were admitted, Mrs. Langly, or you could easily be a dead woman."

I stared up at Langly. He shook his head slowly. "Do what you gotta do, I guess."

"All right." I reached for the surgical consent form that had been prepared, and between being feverish, in pain, an emotional wreck, the IV in my arm, and not having my dominant hand available to me, I couldn't even write my name. I handed it to Langly.

"He can sign for me," I said weakly. I saw him scribble in his hard, sharp writing in the space for my name.

Millikan perused it. "Allison Ruth Rausch Gerstein Langly. Name's bigger than you. You married before?"

"Yes."

"And it says on your chart you have one child?"

"Two...never mind."

"We'll see you shortly to get you prepped. Try to relax. I'm very sorry." Once again, another physician gets to avoid the fallout by silently slipping into the ozone, I thought.
 

We waited silently. Langly paced slowly about, occasionally shaking his light hair, looking as disoriented as I felt. I was utterly exhausted but couldn't sleep.

"Langly." I rasped out his name. He didn't hear me.

"Langly." I tried to up the volume. This time he faced me. "Sit by me. Please." He obliged. I tried to reach for his hand, but the IV restrained my one useful arm. He didn't offer his.

"Guess I shouldn't get greedy," he said sadly.

"What do you mean?" I was puzzled.

"I guess...Ally, I never even thought I'd get this far. Guess I should still count myself lucky. It just...you didn't know?"

"No, babe. I didn't. I'd have told you." My eyes were damp.

"I mean, it's weird. I'm not even sure I'd have wanted this kid...at least not right now...but now that I won't...it's almost like something got taken away from us, isn't it?"

"You'd have done fine," I assured him. And he would have.

"Don't you feel a little, you know, robbed, Ally?"

"Yeah. I do. It might have been fun."

We were silent again. He pulled his impossibly long legs up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looked about twelve.

"I'm scared." He said the words matter-of-factly, but I had an idea how that worked with him. There was a ton of emotion packed behind those simple words, and he wasn't used to letting it surface. It tended to stay hidden behind a rapier wit and a carefully cultivated offhandedness. It always unnerved me a bit when some of it began to seep through. "I can't lose you,
Ally."

"Langly, I'll be fine." I was too confused to think about the real implications of the situation. "I'll be around to annoy you forever." Waves of pain were starting to flow over me; they were real, and they weren't. I tried to read the monitor near my head, but my vision, which always sucks, was further impaired by the fever and pain.

"101.0. You got down pretty well," he commented softly. "That's good."

"How long have we been here?"

"About seven hours."

"Jesus." I had no sense of the passage of time. It could have been seven minutes or seven days, for all I knew. "I wanna go home."

"Soon," he said quietly.

We were interrupted by the arrival of several people. Miranda all but dive-bombed me, and Shelby joined her. Happy as I was to see her, having people jump on the bed sent a fresh spasm of discomfort off. Plus they moved the blankets, and I was freezing. Miranda actually looked as if she would cry-unusual for her. Miranda's control is pretty good, but she looked close to losing at that point. I couldn't reach up and hug the girls, but they stayed near on their own.

They had been followed by my fellow redhead, Byers. He was very quiet when he came in, and upon receiving an opening, he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

"How are you, Ally?" he asked, very gently.

"Uh...not too good," I admitted.

At that point, two nursing assistants and the anesthesiologist appeared. "I'm sorry, but we need some room to work," the anesthesiologist announced in a soft-was it Indian?-accent.

"Mommy? What's going on? Mommy!" Miranda started to shriek. I knew she'd reach her limit someday. Apparently this was the day.

"Al'son?" Shelby was unbelieving.

"Guys, go out with Langly and Byers. I'll see you before I go."

"Mommy, no! What's wrong with you?"

"Dear, you need to step out with your father," the one nursing assistant told her, guiding her to Langly and Byers. Langly put a hand on her shoulder, Byers put his hand on Shelby, and the four of them walked outside the door.

"Can I see them again?" I asked groggily. I don't know what they'd slipped into my IV, but it was making me feel as though I was floating six inches above the bed.

"You'll see them before we take you out," the anesthesiologist assured me. "We're going to give you a memory block, so you'll have no recollection of the procedure." There were noises coming from outside the door, but they seemed a million miles away.

I heard one of the assistants tell them that they could come back and see me for a moment, and then I'd have to go.

Byers came and gave me a short hug. "I'm so sorry, Ally."

The girls came up to me. Miranda kissed me on the cheek, hard, and squeezed my fingers of my casted hand. She'd been crying. Shelby hugged me gently and said not a word.

Langly took my IV'd hand in his and squeezed it lightly. "Ready to cross the Rubicon?"

"No." I shook my head as though in slow motion. "I'm sorry..."

Just be there on the other side, Ally. I'll be." He kissed me, and then the world faded to black.

END OF PART 51