Classification: TRHA

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Summary:

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Disclaimer: They really are Martha and gizzie's but Fox Television and 1013 Productions are just so unreasonable...
 

January 30, 2000

"We need to talk," Dr. Ying stated briskly. "Not here. Follow me." She led us through a maze of corridors until she came to a door. We all piled into a small room, complete with a long sofa, two bunk beds, a TV that was turned to some godawful talk show, and a coffee maker that was emitting some sort of vile odor.

"The residents' lounge. Not the most glamorous, but we can at least lock the door." That chilled me. Why the secrecy? Most of the time, physicians seemed to be perfectly content to make anyone's condition a public service announcement.

"This brings back memories," Dana said to Dr. Ying.

"Doesn't it." She grabbed a chair from the small table in the center of the room--it looked as though someone had been called in the middle of a game of hearts, judging by the way the cards were laid out. She turned to me. "Normally, Dana and I converse via my laptop computer, but I understand you're her interpreter. So, interpret. Please."

"Oh, boy. I've been out of it for a while..."

"I'm aware of that, Mrs. Langly. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I need to sit next to you." I got off the sofa and pulled up a chair beside her. "Okay, I'm ready."

My hands felt awkward, and while I have a sign language vocabulary in excess of 50,000 words, some of the terminology she and Dana used were unfamiliar to me, and I found myself stopping her several times, asking her to verify spelling, since
there were a few terms that I had no sign for and needed to fingerspell them. Fortunately, Dana knew what Dr. Ying was talking about, even if my interpretation was somewhat lacking.

"He's being transferred to Northeast Georgetown. We don't have a Level 4 Biohazard containment unit, and they do."

"Any similarity to the virus that got these kids laid up?" Frohike inquired.

"Yes, but it appears to have mutated...and we have no idea what we're dealing with here. Dr. Scully here is coordinating with CDC, and she's checking all the international databases for any sorts of similar occurrences, trying to trace possible vectors and the like. I'll be dealing with Mr. Byers--"

"That's Dr. Byers," Langly clarified. Leave it to my man to pick at trivia in situations like this.

"I'm sorry. He's not an MD, is he?"

"PhD, Public Policy," Dana explained. "Professor at the American University."

"Wonderful. I have a patient with a public contact job and what appears to be an extensive social network who may have something that's horribly contagious. Or not." Dr. Ying rubbed her black eyes with her tiny hand. "So much for getting away with my husband this weekend."

"I could--" Dana began, but Dr. Ying held up her hand.

"Dr. Scully, you've been out of practice for a while, if you don't mind my saying so, and even if you do I'll say it. You are also a nursing mother with a child who was born prematurely. No, you'll not take that risk." Dana knew she'd been beaten by a woman who was even smaller than she was, and she wasn't a good loser, but she acquiesced.
 

"What about our kids?" Langly demanded. "We've got 'em, too."

"That's right, you have two of them, if I recall, the same age but not twins...all right. I need to test the both of them. Any symptoms?"

"Miranda had a cold, but she's gotten over it," I volunteered. "Shelby's got one now."

"That could be a concern, or not. I need you to bring them to me tomorrow morning at Georgetown."

"Oh, they're gonna love that," Langly rolled his eyes.

"Why don't I do this?" Dana offered. "I'll go there and do a blood draw myself on them. That way, we disrupt them minimally. These kids have been through a lot, Lu. Let's not make it any worse for them than it already is." Dana looked straight at me. "Did you call my mother like I told you to?"

"I did. She's coming to spend the night at our house, bless her heart."

"I told you she would. I'll go over there later and spend the night as well, and I'll take the baby with me. I need to get hold of Mulder, though. He doesn't know Byers is being moved, and it's imperative that he doesn't bring Becca. I'll draw some
blood from her, just to make certain." Heavy anxiety crossed her features.

"All right." Dr. Ying conceded that. "How you handle that, it's up to you."

"You have any kids?" Langly asked her.

"One. My son is in his second year of medical school at UCLA." Dr. Ying beamed.

"Go Bruins. I used to work there," I laughed.

"Ha! Their football team is so lame this year!" Langly scoffed. "Now, North Carolina State, that's a team worth watching."

"Mr.--I mean, Dr. Byers will be assigned two critical care nurses around the clock, and they're two of the best. Martha Small and Colleen Bayer, but don't call Colleen anything but Gizzie. Why, I don't know, and I don't care. They know their stuff.
They'll keep you updated as well." She raised up her miniature figure. "And now, while we're so pleasantly chatting here, time's wasting. I'll see you all at Northeast Georgetown,  and Dana, we'll hook up later via e-mail." She strolled briskly out of the room.

"Did anyone call Katherine yet?" Frohike asked.

"I'll call her," I volunteered. "Though it hardly seems a fitting tribute for a woman who entertained my kids sight unseen for a week."

"Langly, try and reach Mulder--I know Dana will try and get hold of him, but she's got to get to a TTY, and we might get him sooner."

"Got it." Langly's voice was dispirited.

"Dana," I signed, "What's up for you?"

She sighed. "Get Becca from my mother's, head over to your place, and try to get on-line."

I laughed. "Getting on-line at our house is not one of the more difficult challenges. Now, finding a place to walk without tripping on something, that could be hard." She smiled slightly, then hugged each of us.

"We'll figure this out," she promised softly.

"You have to. He's my best man," Langly said, to no one in particular.

*************************************************************************************************************

Northeast Georgetown is in a better neighborhood than GWU, but it had the same overall gestalt of total chaos. We were not permitted entry to the biohazard unit, naturally, but there was an area where we could put up our feet and wait. And wait. And wait.

Mulder joined our party sometime later. It was weird to see him without his daughter connected to him like some third arm. I mentioned this to him, and he said he'd have brought her, but Scully would have shot him, this time probably to kill.

"I'd like to see if you feel the same way when she cries at 3 a.m.," Frohike challenged.

"Frohike, I'm awake at 3 a.m. I wait for her to get up." Mulder grinned
hugely.

"Mulder, you're a sick man," Frohike shook his head. "But she is precious."

"I hated getting up in the middle of the night," I commented. "I remember the first time I slept for five full hours after Miranda was born. I couldn't believe how wonderful it felt." Miranda had been a colicky, fussy baby, and the first three months of
parenting had been a real black hole for Eric and me.

"Leslie, our first one, spoiled us," Frohike mused. "She slept through the night almost from the beginning. Michael, on the other hand, was much more irritable...he'd be up every two hours until he was a year and a half old. Janet and I'd trade getting up with him, but I know what you mean, my dear, by being able to sleep for five hours straight and feeling terrific."

Langly looked down at his feet. He had nothing to contribute to this dialogue. And he wouldn't, either. Frohike seemed to sense this, and snapped out of his reverie to put my man at ease.

"They get a lot more interesting as they get older," Frohike assured him.

"Oh, they're interesting," Langly concurred. "Lately I feel like I eat, sleep and breathe kids and their troubles, or friends and their troubles, or us and our troubles..." he trailed off.

"That's what makes you a parent," Frohike told him. "It's the work. And I'll always be sorry I missed it."

"I think you're making up for lost time," I smiled at Frohike. "Michael can be a bit of a challenge."

"Michael is a pain in the ass." But the tone was affectionate. "I'm grateful he's in school, anyway. I'd like to see him get some direction in his life." An oft-repeated Frohike sentiment. "I don't want him to have to go through...some of the things I went through."

"He's a smart kid. I think he'll be okay." I hoped he would, anyway. I had days where I had my doubts.

"And he did a decent job on the 'Stang," Langly affirmed. "'Course, he's probably pissed at me for being here, 'cause I told him he could take it tonight."

"He'll live," Frohike said shortly. "I still think he had an obligation to help you out tonight, and I'm not happy about being overruled on this, my dear."

"I'm sorry, Frohike," and I meant it. "But I think he needs to meet people in his own age group. I don't think we're always the most exciting company for him."

"Nor is he for you, I'm sure. But I can't tell you how much I appreciate you letting him stay...it means a lot to me."

"Well, it's not like you have a lot of room at your place," Langly shrugged.

"No, I don't...and while I enjoy having him close enough to see him, I'm not certain we're ready to live together. Things are still...somewhat tentative between us."

Big surprise there.

"And even if he did drive me insane, I was grateful he stayed with me in the hospital as much as he did. And surprised."

"Two of you seem a lot alike," Mulder commented to Frohike.

"I think so," Frohike affirmed. "Which is why I get frightened sometimes."

A woman with dark reddish-brown hair burst through the door to the waiting area. "All right, all right, party for Byers, how many will that be?" She was dressed in dark blue scrubs and wearing the tag issued by the hospital for its personnel, but I noticed that the actual name and position had been taped over. On the white label she'd probably applied herself, it read:
Gizzie. Goddess." Okay. Not a woman with a lot of self-esteem problems. And she didn't need to have them, either; in addition to being very attractive, she virtually crackled with lively intelligence in every ounce of her bearing. She carried what was probably Byers's chart in her hand.

"Since it looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together for a while, you might as well tell me who you all are," she announced.

"How's Byers?" Frohike jumped in ahead of the rest of us.

"He's not in great shape. Of course, if he was, he wouldn't be here with us, would he now?" Her face then turned serious. "He's unconscious right now. He's registering a lot of brain activity, but consciousness isn't one of the things registering. His vitals are weak--rapid heartbeat, labored breathing, poor pupillary response to light, and he's currently got a temp
of 104.8. I'm sorry folks, but I just report the news, I don't make it."

"We hope Dr. Ying can figure this mess out," Frohike said softly.

"Dr. Ying? She's a smart lady. Not to mention one of the few doctors around here who doesn't treat the nursing staff like SHIT!" She grew serious again. "Listen, tell me who you are, where I can reach you, and I'll call you with ANY changes in his condition."

"Well, we'll be here," Frohike informed her.

"Uh-uh. It's gonna be a long night, kids. My advice is get the fuck out of here, have a drink, give me the number of wherever you're gonna be, and let me do my job. I'm on till 7 a.m., then Martha comes in to spell me."

"I'm staying," Frohike said quietly and resolutely.

"And I'm staying with him," Mulder pointed to Frohike. I'd forgotten how utterly stubborn Mulder could be. No wonder Dana threw her hands up in the air at him sometimes.

"We'll be here," Langly offered for both of us.

She shook her pretty head. "Suit yourselves. Just remember, every time I leave there, I gotta get in and outta my space suit, and that's a real pain in the ass, so you're not gonna see me for a while. Really would be better if you got the hell of out of
Dodge and did something useful, like go to a tavern. Anyway, I gotta get back to my patient. I've got an NA in there who is not brain dead, but she's not where I'm at." She looked up at us. "He is so fine, by the way."

"He's a good looking guy," I admitted.

"He's not yours, is he?"

"No, no, this one's mine," I pulled Langly gently towards me.

"She has unusual taste," Mulder affirmed.

"Better than no taste," Langly shot at him.

"Look, people, give me your numbers, you're here long enough, believe me, you'll change your mind. And don't make me wait. I've got work to do." We all gave our names and phone numbers to her. She looked at Mulder's business card quizzically.

"Fox? That's your real name?"

"Sad but true. Is Gizzie yours?"

"Watch it, buster." But she was grinning. "I gotta go. See ya, folks."

************************************************************************************************************

"What time is Katherine coming in?" Frohike asked me after I received a confirming call on my cell from her, giving her flight information.

"Kat'll be here tomorrow at 10:30, at National. I'll get her," I volunteered.

"How'd she handle the news?" Frohike inquired.

"Well, she was obviously upset...but she's John's sister, so her good manners and cool prevailed." I felt like shit calling her. She was so sweet about it, but I still felt horrible. Her alarm regarding her big brother was palpable. And understandably so. I hoped to God he'd regain consciousness by the time she arrived. Or sooner. Sooner would be better, I thought.

"You two." Frohike pointed to Langly and me. "Go home. Go see your kids. Get some sleep."

"And what're you gonna do?" demanded Langly.

"Whatever I need to." His tone indicated that no argument was going to be brooked right now. "Mulder, go home to your wife."

"I would, but Scully's at their house," he indicated Langly and me. "I think I'm just gonna stay here, if you don't mind. It's not like I'm gonna fall asleep or something." Mulder eyed us. "You two look wrecked, if you don't mind me saying so."

"We mind," Langly's response was a little more sharp than I think he'd intended.

"Maybe we should, babe." I laid my hand on his arm. "We need to talk to the girls about this, anyway."

"What's to talk about? We've got another fucking crisis, we'll deal with it!" Langly was very short of temper at this point.

"Langly." Frohike looked directly at him. "Go. Take Allison and go. Go home, go to dinner, go to a bar, I don't care. But you're not good for anything right now. You're leaving."

"We'll call you as soon as we know something," Mulder assured us. "You have your cell on?"

"Yeah. I'm probably going to have to charge it again in a few hours. It's gotten a pretty good workout today."

"Then get out of here, and we'll see you tomorrow, or we'll talk when we have some news," Frohike ordered.

*************************************************************************************************************

"Goddamn Frohike. Who the fuck is he to talk?" Langly snarled as we made our way to the parking structure. At least it was better lit than the one at GWU. "Dude has a heart attack, what, six weeks ago, and he's telling US we look wrecked!"

"Langly, he's got a point. Listen to yourself. You sound like you're about to snap."

"Oh, and I don't have a good reason for that!" He turned on me now. "Fuck this. What level are you on?"

"4."

"I'm on 3. I'll see you at home, okay?" No customary kiss, not even a quick buddy hug.

"How about you meet me at Bustamante's? I could use some dinner. It's after 9 already."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am. You're buying me dinner. We might as well save our strength," I tried to smile. "It looks like this could be long and ugly."

"It's all long and ugly. See you there."

************************************************************************************************************

I was glad I'd pushed for dinner. A hungry Langly is a crabby Langly, and in spite of his protests to the contrary, he was starved. Eating dinner didn't make him happier, but it did seem to give him some focus.

"I think your blood sugar was down somewhere in your toenails," I told him. "When was the last time you ate? I know you didn't have lunch."

"I had coffee."

"Uh-huh. You still look like you haven't gained back all your weight you lost." He was looking better, but the face was still a bit drawn. Of course, right now, much of that strain was emotional.

"Well, I did kill two baskets of garlic bread." He smiled at me. "Make you feel better?"

"Much." I drank my beer and grinned. "You want dessert?"

"Tiramisu. You?"

"Cappucino. It'd be nice if I could have it doctored, but they've only got beer and wine."

"Well, just remember, if you want a bite of dessert, get your own. You always ask for a bite and you end up eating half of it." I actually giggled, mostly because it was so true.

************************************************************************************************************

We were surprised to find the crowd we did in our living room. Mrs. Scully was there, as expected, and so was Dana, sitting on the sofa nursing her daughter. I don't think that kid ever stopped eating. But the girls were there--we didn't expect them home until later--and Michael was there as well.

"Didn't you guys go?" I asked Miranda and Shelby.

"Nah, I didn't really wanna go," Miranda explained. "Bunch of terminal trendoids at this party, anyway."

"I'd rather just hang here," Shelby explained. "I'm tired." A common enough complaint in our house, but one that gave me pause, anyway.

"Michael, I thought you were going out," I said.

"Well, I didn't have a car, and my ride couldn't get here, and then the band we were gonna see got caught in some snowstorm and they aren't playing..." he shrugged. "On the other hand--" he pointed to Dana--"if I'd known that she was going to come bearing needles, I'd have found any excuse to get out." But he actually smiled a little at her, very shyly. She returned his smile. He wasn't a blusher, but he looked mildly embarrassed--and very pleased.

"Did you get them all?" I signed to Dana. She nodded in the affirmative.

Michael had returned his attention to the movie. "This is a great scene. The way they blow up this building, it's pretty cool."

"What're you watching?"

"'Fight the Future.'"

"You've seen that a thousand times, all of you." Us included.

"Yeah, but it's fun. The babe is hot!" Michael licked his lips.

"I thought Lucy Knight was the only girl for you," Miranda reproached him, referring to the young intern in 'ER'.

"On Thursdays," Michael explained.

"I wasn't really expecting you back," Mrs. Scully explained, hugging both Langly and me.

She lowered her voice. "How is he?" She didn't need to clarify that her reference was to Byers.

Langly shook his whitish hair. "Not good. He's still unconscious." He said it softly enough so that the moviewatchers wouldn't be disturbed. They knew, but why beat them over the head with it?

"Can I get you two some coffee?" Mrs. Scully asked solicitously.

"Hey, we live here, we should get it for you," I laughed.

"It's made."

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," I offered Mrs. Scully.

"Don't be silly. Things could change very rapidly. I'll be here as long as you need me."

"Ally." Langly motioned to me. "We need to go out to the offices for a while. Hey, Michael. C'mon."

"Wha--" Michael didn't like having his fantasy life disturbed.

"Hey, we own this tape, you can watch it anytime. C'mon, we got work to do."

"Well, I'd have done more work, if only I could get into the damn office, but I don't have any goddamned keys!" Michael protested.

Langly looked at me.   "Ally. Get the kid a set of fucking keys tomorrow."

*************************************************************************************************************

"I'm gonna try this again," Langly explained as he typed away.

"Try what again?"

"Remember I told you a while back, I tried to get into an HMO database and set off every alarm between here and the moon?"

"Yeah." He'd been stressing over the failed hack for weeks.

"What're you trying to do?" Michael demanded.

"I need to get into this HMO database in Colorado. Locked up tighter than the NSA files. It's weird."

"So you didn't get in." The ultimate assault on a hacker's masculinity had just been uttered; I cringed. But Langly held it together.

"I was pretty sure the hack was clean. Everything I've tried since then, I'm sure it was a clean hack. But I still haven't gotten in."

"Want me to try?" Michael volunteered.

"Hey, I've been doing this for years, and I couldn't get my kung fu to work," Langly shook his head. "I'm sorta running out of ideas here."

"I've got a few," Michael offered up eagerly, anxious to show the size of his balls, which was directly proportional, in the mind's eye of a hacker, to how many cute computer tricks one could perform.

"Langly, what're we doing here?" I asked, slightly uneasy.

He turned to me. "We're gonna find out what killed Skulk."

************************************************************************************************************

"We're in," Michael announced after what seemed like an eternity. In truth, it had taken about two hours--in the world of nanoseconds, an interminably long time.

My job was to check Langly's various e-mail accounts and see if anybody had written him about being ill. Seeing as he had 17 e-mail accounts, this was a time-consuming process, and tedious. But I wasn't qualified for the fancy stuff, and this was
something I could do. When Michael uttered the magic words, I snapped from my reverie.

"Did you watch?" Michael demanded of Langly.

"Yeah, I watched. Cool trick. Dangerous though. We could easily get nailed on that. It's got visibility problems," Langly told him with the wisdom of One Who Has Been Caught.

"Well, your choice. We take the risk and get in, or we don't get in. I took the risk. We got in," Michael held stubbornly.

"All right, let's go fishing," Langly announced. "My turn to drive." He and Michael swapped places.

I finally dropped my head on the keyboard in sheer exhaustion.

END OF PART 55