Part 54

Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG

Summary: We torture Byers big time here.

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: Property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television, but only because they're the ones making money off it.
 
 

"Cross gales he blew, making me lose my bearings,
and heaved up seas beyond imagination-
huge and foundering seas."

Homer, "The Odyssey, " Fitzgerald Translation, Book 7, Lines 292-294. Used without permission.
 
 

Sede Vacante
 
 

January 30, 2000

I sat in my car for several minutes before I pulled away. I couldn't believe this was happening. It had to be a joke. Granted, it was somebody's idea of a very bad joke, but as long as it was a joke, I figured I could take it.

The light, wet snow continued to tumble out of the sky, creating a hypnotic effect before my eyes. I tried to remember a time when the idea of driving in the snow scared me to death. It seemed like such a trivial concern now. Besides, I had two working hands again, a concept I had to keep reminding myself of.

I'd also forgotten that parking at GWU is not a cheap proposition, and they don't like large bills. I had the money, but ATM's only spew 20's, and the parking attendant was extremely surly when he realized he was going to have to make change. Fuck you, I thought angrily. Maybe you need some real concerns to keep you going, pal.

To my extreme dismay and relief, I discovered I knew my way around this hospital very well, and I was able to locate Langly within about 10 minutes. He didn't see me coming; I tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped roughly 20 feet into the air.

"Whoa. You're here." He reached out to hug me.

"Thank Sheridan. I'd never have known."

"Sheridan-oh, fuck. I forgot to call. I was gonna leave you a message, but-"

"Forget it. How's John?"

"Don't know. He's still being worked on."

"What do they think?"

"He had some sort of convulsion, Frohike says-I wasn't there-and he came to, but he's been fading in and out ever since they got him here."

"Where's Frohike?"

"He's here. He was, anyway." A quick scan of the area revealed no Frohike in sight. "I think he said something about coffee."

"How's he holding up?"

"He's Frohike. Old mother hen. He's taking it hard." I nodded sadly. I hoped this passage of events wasn't going to give Frohike a relapse; Langly didn't say it, but it was all over his eyes that he was thinking the same thing. I slipped my newly-freed left hand over his.

"I'm castless, dude."

"Hey, so you are." He examined the hand. "Is that your arm or did somebody put a dead fish in there?" I almost smacked him, then remembered I didn't have my heavy artillery anymore, and anyway, he took my fingers and kissed two of them. I felt myself melt. I was really glad I hadn't left something positively evil on his voice mail.

"Hey, I can zip my jacket and sign my name." I was trying to lighten it up a bit, for myself as well as for him.

"Don't forget washing dishes," he reminded me with a shit-eating grin that deserved to be wiped off his face. When he saw my expression, he went for the save. "Looks like we could put a wedding ring on it now." I sat down and melted into him. He leaned his head on my shoulder, pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. They were totally red surrounding the irises, which were dark with exhaustion.

"Did he call you?"

"No. Frohike got the call from the parameds. He called me. He's got us listed as emergency contacts." Why he found that amusing, I wasn't sure, but if it made him smile, he could hold that thought right now. We're really picking the bottom of the barrel for laughs, I thought wryly.

"He wasn't at work?"

"Called in sick."

"John? Called in sick?" Shit. Byers never called in sick. Not ever. This was bad.

Frohike arrived on scene, bearing caffeinated treats for him and Langly. "Oh, Allison, my dear, I didn't know when you'd get here. I'll get you something."

"No. I'm jonesing for a smoke, might as well get some caffeine to go with it."

"You heard anything?" Frohike asked Langly.

Langly shook his head mutely.

"Let me see what I can find out. Go have a cigarette, my dear. I'll hassle you about it another time."

"I'll go with you," Langly volunteered. I was tempted to tell him to stay with Frohike, but Frohike nodded in assent.
 

I grabbed a cup of the foul brew that passes for coffee in hospital vending machines-God, these guys could clean up with a Starbucks kiosk, I thought. We stood outside, letting the snow fall lightly over us.

"Gimme one," Langly demanded as I extracted a Marlboro Light. I pulled another and handed it to him. He lit for both of us.

"This sucks," I moaned.

"This really sucks. We sound like Beavis and Butthead, don't we?" He smiled weakly; his heart wasn't in it.

"So long as I'm Butthead. He's the brains of the outfit." That drew a small smile.

We smoked in silence. When I stubbed mine out, I turned to him, still dragging absently on his, letting the ash burn down.

"You think Byers has what we had?"

"Maybe. Or not. They called Dr. Ying-I made 'em do that-but they've got some neurologist in there as well. They think it might be meningitis. Or not."

"I hope not. That's how a lot of my students went deaf."

"Hope not, either." He finished his cigarette and crushed it absently under his sole. "In any case, I think he's a lot sicker than either of us were. And God knows we were sick enough." He looked frantic, lost. "We'd better go back in. Maybe Frohike knows something by now."

"Or not."

"Or not."
 
 

I let Langly talk to Frohike, who was talking with an unknown party when we returned-the neurologist? I'd find out soon enough. For now, I needed to deal with the issue of children. I dialed the offices.

"Lone Gunmen." The voice of Michael Frohike responded to the second ring.

"Michael. Allison. Turn the tape off."

"Why, are you gonna say dirty words to me?"

"Michael, you know Byers is in the hospital, don't you?"

"My dad left me something saying he had to take off and he'd call me later-shit, I didn't know. What's up with the professor?"

"We don't know, but the professor is pretty goddamned sick. Listen, Michael, I know you get annoyed about this, but I don't know when I'm going to be home-"

"And you want me to look after the girls, yada yada yada."

"They're supposed to go out tonight, but they're going to different people's houses, and I'm not sure I'll be back in time to take them."

"Nothing doing there, Al'son. No wheels."

"I am aware of that, Michael. Here's what I need you to do: call Joanna Gilfillan. Here's her number, she's at Catholic U, it's 202-751-7852. Ask her if she can bail me on this one in case I'm late. Tell her I'm sorry, I hate to bother her, but tell her what the situation is-"

"That's my dad's friend, right?"

"That's her."

"Weird. Not exactly a hot babe."

"Joanna's a decent human being, Michael-"

"Hey, didn't say she wasn't. She's just sort of.ordinary, y'know."

"Michael. Unless you feel like sleeping in the snow tonight, I need you to help me out on this. Okay? Please?" I was pleading with him. Why? It was my house and he was living under my roof.fuck him if he was annoyed.

"Okay, I'll tell her to get here soon. I got plans for tonight." He'd made some acquaintances at school.

"You wait until she gets there before you leave. Please." I went from severe to pleading again.

"Hey, Al'son, when have I not done this when you asked me?" he was snarling a bit.

"You're right. You've always done it. Just.I really need your cooperation today."

"Fine." Michael hung up. I shook my head. Sometimes he was a sweetheart; sometimes he was the most obnoxious little fuck on the planet.

I rejoined Langly and Frohike, taking Langly's smooth white hand in mine. I noticed it shook a little.

"The good news is, it doesn't appear to be meningitis," Frohike told me. "The bad news is, they don't know what it is yet."

"Fuck." This was going to be a long, miserable afternoon. Langly's one word sentiment said it all.

"So we wait." I looked from one to the other.

"Again, we wait."
 
 

An NA came out carrying a large plastic bag. "Who's here with-" he checked the name scribbled on the bag-"J.F. Byers?"

"I'll take it," Frohike stepped forward.

"His personal effects," the NA explained.

"Believe me, young man, we've been through this drill enough lately. Thank you."

"You seen him?" Langly demanded.

"Yeah."

"So how's he doing?" Langly's voice rose to an uncomfortable pitch.

"Dr. Ying will talk to you." He disappeared.
 
 

"Think we should call Juliet?" Langly asked Frohike and me.

"Not yet," Frohike shook his head. "We do need to call his sister, though."

"That's right. Kat." I had a memory of the woman's warm, friendly voice. She blatantly adored her big brother. This was not a phone call she was going to be happy to receive.

"I think Juliet ought to know," I opined. "I know I'd want to."

Frohike was holding firm. "No. We don't know how ill he really is. We don't know why he's ill. I think we should wait. Katherine, on the other hand, we have to notify her. Do either of you know her number?"

We shook our heads in silence. "Did Byers have an address book in his stuff?" I asked.

Frohike rummaged through the bag of belongings. "Clothing, watch, shoes.hmm." He pulled up a narrow gold band. Byers's wedding ring. "I guess when they say naked as the day you were born, they weren't kidding. No address book, though." He resealed the bag.

"That really pissed me off when they took my ring," I mentioned. The peridot was now firmly ensconced on my right hand, and I was going to refuse to remove it for any reason in the future.

"And my glasses," Langly added. "How the fuck was I supposed to see?"

"C'mon, now, we need to focus here. Allison, my dear, have you got your phone with you?"

"Here. I'm waiting for a call from Michael. I asked him to call Joanna and have her come over to take care of the kids tonight, in case we're here really late."

"That's not going to work, I'm afraid, my dear. Joanna is with her brother's family in Baltimore this weekend. I suspect she's already left; she was planning to only work half a day."

"Shit. Michael has plans for tonight."

"Then Michael will have to cancel his plans."

"No, Frohike, he just started school, he's starting to meet people-let him go. He really needs some people his own age to be around."

"I think we have more pressing concerns here," Frohike held stubbornly. "I'll talk to him." He was about to punch in the office number when a short, red-haired figure flew into the area.

"Scully, hi," Langly greeted her.

"Dana. You heard." I signed to her.

"Yes. Dr. Ying paged me. I was in the library at Georgetown, doing some research." Her speech was lisping, her consonants slightly muted, but damn, she worked hard to keep her spoken language at a level close to that of one who could hear. I suspect Mulder was helpful in that regard; the man truly had a gift for languages.

"We haven't been able to see him. Do you think you could help us with that?" Frohike inquired, taking her hand.

"I'm not sure, Frohike. I don't have privileges here. I'm here to consult with Dr. Ying strictly in an advisory capacity."

"Couldn't you at least find out how he's doing? Nobody's telling us shit!" Langly's noncustomary nervousness was making me uneasy.

"I'll do my best. I need to talk to Dr. Ying. I'll be back before I leave, but I don't know when that will be."

"And how is Rebecca? Is she with Mulder, as always?" Frohike inquired.

"She's at my mother's right now."

"Speaking of which," I mentioned, directing my comments at Langly and Frohike, but signing for Dana to be cognizant of the conversation, "I'm going to have to leave for a while. The girls need to be places tonight, and their lives are screwed up enough without disrupting more of their plans."

"Why don't you call my mother?" Dana suggested.

"I can't do that, Dana. She's watching Rebecca, and it's snowing, and I'd really be imposing on her."

"Call her." Dana's clear, bottomless blue eyes bored into mine. "And that's a doctor's order you're going to follow. My mother loves the girls. And she only has Becca until Mulder comes by after work, unless I get there first."

"She helped me out so much when I got hurt-"

"And she'd do it again, in a heartbeat. Now call her. I need to get moving." Her tiny figure, clad in a long green coat, vanished into the abyss of hospital activity.

Frohike looked at me and shrugged. "You heard her."

Langly looked at me wearily. "And you should never argue with a redhead."

I smiled softly at him. "Not if you want to win, anyway.

I was almost in tears when I got off the phone with Maggie Scully. The woman was incredible-all I had to say was that Byers was ill, and before the sentence was complete, she jumped in and asked, "What can I do?" The plan went that she would call Mulder, whom we needed to contact, anyway, and have him come and get his daughter-a real hardship for him, Mrs. Scully commented wryly. Then she would leave for Virginia and spend the night, and then we'd take it from there. I offered to bring the girls to her home in Annapolis, but she thought it best that they stay in their own home-Mulder and Dana had apparently enlightened her as to the traumas in Shelby's life. I was concerned because of the snow, but Maggie Scully gave something somewhere between a laugh and a snort-she'd been doing this sort of driving for over 40 years, thank you very much, no problem. She couldn't promise that she'd be there in time to get the girls to their designated social arrangements, but she'd do her best.

How did I get so lucky, I found myself thinking in the midst of all the misery swirling around us like a black, hostile hurricane.

Frohike contacted his son, informing him that he was to go absolutely nowhere until Mrs. Scully arrived, and would he please find the phone number for Byers's sister and call us back immediately. It seemed that Michael began to sulk at one point in the conversation, but Frohike gently, but very firmly, let him know that he was going to deal with this, and that he was very lucky we weren't making him cancel his plans. Catholic school must teach you some serious guilting techniques, I thought with bemusement.

The phone rang, and Frohike pushed in the talk button, thinking it was Michael with the information we needed, but he handed the phone to me.

"Your daughter. Not happy," he said softly.

"Mom, this is ridiculous!" Uh-oh. PMS time, I thought. And I'm not in the mood. "All you guys ever do is hang around hospitals, and I have HAD IT! I thought you were gonna make us dinner tonight and then we had plans and now it's all fucked up and I'm really tired of all this and I can't take it anymore!" I knew she needed to blow off some steam, but I didn't feel like
dealing with her particular brand of hot air.

"Miranda, I'm sorry, honey-"

"Fuck you're sorry! Ever since we came here-"

"Miranda, don't start! I mean it."

"No, I mean it! I'm so tired of everything being so fucked up-"

"Miranda, we're not having this conversation," I said wearily. "And we're waiting for a call." I bent my finger to hit the end button, but Langly motioned for me to hand him the phone. "Wait, Langly wants a word with you." I handed him the phone without waiting for her response.

"Hey, 'Randa. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah. I hear ya." He was listening to her rant, just nodding periodically and just feeding back enough so that she knew he was listening. After several minutes, he said soothingly to her, "Hey, look, we hate it, too. Don't you think I'd be having more fun watching "Nightmare on Elm Street" with you guys? Well, I would. Yeah, we'll do something together soon. Promise. Listen, we'll call you as soon as we know something. 'Kay? Here, say bye to your mom." He handed me back the phone.

"Miranda?" I asked softly.

"Sorry, Mom," she said wearily. "It's just." I thought I heard a hint of a sob, which, in the grand tradition of her mother, she choked back hard.

"Yeah, I know. I love you."

"Love you, too." We cut our connection. No sooner did I hit the end button when the phone rang again. I hit the send button, and was treated to the voice of Michael Frohike.

"Here's the number," he began without preamble. "Area code 914-683-2891."

"Hold on, Michael, I need to find something to write with."

"Well, in your purse, that could take an hour."

"Michael, play nice. I'm not in the mood." I located a pen and my notepad. "Okay, 914-"

"683-2891. Anything else?"

"Talk to your dad." I handed Frohike the phone. I'd had quite enough of surly juveniles.

"I do have something I'd like you to do," Frohike told his son. "But not right now. And not on this phone. We'll talk later." "Michael, discretion. It's the better part of valor. I'll talk to you later." He clicked off and handed the phone back to me. "Kids."

"They're pretty stressed," I commented. "Oh, God.the kids, guys! What if this virus is contagious-"

Langly and Frohike closed their eyes and groaned in unison. "Oh, shit."

"What the fuck is taking so long?" Langly's whine had become elevated to a near-scream.

"Langly. They'll talk to us when they know something," Frohike laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Langly was not going to be easily placated.

"Least they could do is come out and tell us they don't know what the fuck they're doing, which obviously they don't!"

"Babe, please." I took his hand. It was shaking now. Shit.

"Fuck this!" Langly's volume continued to elevate. "I'm gonna go find somebody!"

"And do what? Rip them a new asshole?" Frohike stared hard at him. "That's not going to help anyone, least of all Byers. Now sit down with your lady and take a deep breath and try to refrain from future tirades." Langly muttered a few obscenities, but he knew he'd been outmaneuvered, and he put his blonde head on my shoulder. I moved on to his lap; nothing like physical restraint to keep him from jumping up. Normally, we're not big on PDA, but he didn't resist. He just hid his head in my shoulder. I ran my hand over his back. He was so tight; I could feel several hard knots forming near his shoulders. Now that I had two hands, I could do something about that; I began to knead the knots, and he did begin to calm. Frohike came over and put a hand on his lower back, and Langly didn't brush him away. Frohike's eyes met mine in silent conversation.

He's such a child sometimes, Frohike seemed to say.

I cuddled the lanky figure I was sitting on. He may be a child sometimes, I thought, but he's one of the toughest cookies I ever met. Frohike nodded in silent affirmation.

Sometimes we're all just children. And we're all just so helpless. This was one of those times.

We jumped up like children, waiting for their mothers to pick them up from day care, when Dr. Ying and Dana entered the room, eager for any sort of reassurance, any certainty.

Their expressions told us that wasn't going to happen.

END OF PART 54