Rating: PG

Summary: March Madness...coming to an end.

Spoilers: Nah.
 

"But Croesus said, Cyrus, I made an expedition against you, but the god at
Delphi persuaded me to make the expedition. For I am not foolish nor do I
wish to have war instead of peace. For in peace-time the young men bury the
old, but in war-time the old bury the young."

Herodotus's description of the subjugation of Lydia, 5th Century BC.
 

Nachath
 

March 29, 2000

"I can't take this anymore." Miranda spoke through clenched teeth, her voice rising on the final syllables. She was, of course, referring to having Shelby in her room. The two of them were fine as long as they each had a private space. Take away that private space...and there were problems.

Joan's one night had become two weeks. She didn't want to stay on, but was fearful of being on her own, and Langly agreed with her that it was probably a poor idea for her to be alone at this point. Particularly in view of some of the more threatening phone calls her soon-to-be former husband was making; we'd had the house number changed twice in the two weeks she'd been there, and it was probably only a matter of time before we'd be changing it again. He'd even gotten hold of the girls' number downstairs one time, and that was unnerving for both them and for us. Sometimes he was the soul of understanding; he wanted to talk to Joan, make her understand how important it was that they stayed together...other times, he was downright vicious.

"Never have heard him say he loved her," Langly observed wryly when we'd had the phone number changed a second time. And we were unpublished and rerouted to boot; it was frightening to think he could find out things about us. No doubt he knew where we lived; it was only a matter of time before he showed up at our gate.

"I think we need to get Joan moved somewhere safe, both for her sake and for the kids." I wasn't just thinking in terms of mental health for the girls; I really was concerned about someone with violent tendencies lurking about.

"Yeah, I know." Langly had been contemplating little else since discussing the matter with Joan earlier in the day. "I'll think of something. But it's time for the final game, and I gotta go." It was the last day of March Madness; the contenders for the title were UCLA and NC State. I, of course, wanted the Bruins to take it, but Langly had bet heavily on NC State, so from the point of view of financial gain, I hoped NC State would be victorious.

Truth was, I really didn't give a fuck.

"You could go, you know," he said. "Jo's gonna be there." Jo followed basketball.

"Langly, if it's not baseball or hockey, I'm not interested. And only if it's National League baseball, not that wussy American League crap you watch."

"Hey, don't you be dissing the Orioles."

"The Orioles deserve to be dissed." We never could agree on sports teams. He hissed every time the Dodgers won.

"Look, I have a ton of stuff to do. And yeah, it'd be fun to sit around Benny's and get wasted, but not today."

"Whoa. Ally passes up a chance to get shitfaced. Have to write this one down."

"Go on, get out and watch the game. And Langly?"

"Yeah?"

"You lose money to Mulder, and I'm gonna be royally bummed out."

He grinned and kissed me on the nose. "Not gonna happen."
 

It was a quiet afternoon; I managed to read and prepare more than usual, which felt good. Everyone was gone; even Byers wouldn't miss the final game of the championships.

I spoke at length to Anne and Jason. Jason was better, after ten days in the hospital-and it sounded suspiciously like what I had in symptoms and severity. The physicians who treated Jason were just as stumped as ours were. And SF Gen is no slouch in diagnosing arcane illnesses.

During the course of the conversation, I learned that Muzzle, one of the guys who'd bought me a drink, had died. Jason didn't know his real name, but could find out, and promised he'd give me the information and do whatever digging he could manage on his end, but he and his band were due to go back on the road in April, and he was already behind on rehearsing.

Byers and Juliet had reached an agreement of sorts. Juliet had gone back to Ann Arbor before she could tender her resignation for this semester, but she had three offers in the DC area already for work, and as soon as her semester was complete in early May, she would be moving into the area. Byers was looking for an apartment for her; it was agreed that for now, they would not live together.

And Byers was still ringless. That amazed me most of all.

My mother called, indicating that her friends that she'd had the opportunity to speak with had received their invitations and were looking forward to an Eleanor-staged blowout. Miranda indicated that she and Frohike had received over 200 e-mail responses in the affirmative and 112 snail mail ones. And it wasn't even April yet.

"You should see how many of these people didn't believe it when they got the message," Miranda mentioned. "And some of 'em made me do some really weird stuff to prove it was true."

"You mean, like hit the reply function on the e-mail?"

"Yeah, and they would ask me weird questions about Langly, just to make sure I knew him." She gave me a puzzled look. "Mom, a couple people asked me about how things have been since Lompoc CC. About Langly. Isn't that a prison, mom?" She eyed me suspiciously.

No point in hiding it from her now. "Yeah, minimum security facility. Where they send hackers who aren't careful."

She took that in, chewed it around in her brain, digested it. She looked distressed. Shit.

"I just wish he'd had the decency to tell me. Mom, it's not like I don't know what he does. And I don't care that he got caught or he was stupid when he was younger or whatever. I just wished he trusted me enough to tell me the TRUTH!" She spat the last word out vehemently.

"He was really...I think he was sort of embarrassed to tell you."

"Well, he oughta be more embarrassed about being a chickenshit."

"I'm sorry, Miranda, I don't think his reaction was unreasonable. Most people aren't proud of that aspect of their lives."

"Big deal. He shoulda said something to me. It's like, what's he got about protecting me? He drives me nuts! I can't bring a guy over here without getting the third degree! He has a shitfit if I'm late getting back from anywhere. He's worse than my own father would have been, and that was BAD!"

"Maybe he does overdo it. But let me remind you of something, missy-you're the only daughter he'll ever have. You know that kids for us are not a possibility. And I think he's going to pour every ounce of paternal energy into you and Shelby, and yes, it's probably really weird, but it could be worse."

"Yeah, could be like my friend Courtney's stepdad. He calls her a slut and throws things at her when he's in a bad mood. Or Beth Ann's stepdad. He just ignores her." She contemplated that. "Which sometimes wouldn't be a bad thing."

"I think Langly's been ignored a lot in his own life. And I think he's determined not to do that with other people nowadays."

"He just gets a bit too much. And I'm kinda hurt he didn't tell me what was up with him. I'd have understood. It's not like it changes my opinion of him." I sighed with a bit of relief.

"I still think he's a pain in the ass." She sulked and stomped off.
 

Joan and I were curled up on the sofa, preparing lessons.

"You like teaching?" I asked her.

"I do. Of course, when I went to college in the sixties, there weren't that many options open to women, but I do like what I do. Ringo's and my mother was a teacher, you know."

"He told me that."

"She was a good teacher. She worked with emotionally disturbed children, and she was very talented at it. I think she would have been fine had she...left my father."

"Things weren't good between them."

"They hadn't been good since I was about seven. Scott was still little when things began to fall apart. And it just got worse. She'd threaten to leave, and he'd get hysterical, and she stayed and stayed and stayed. Drank herself into a stupor, mostly."

"And then years later, you have a little brother." I was remembering Genie's words, but didn't want to say them.

"Well...okay. My dad was a microbiologist, you know."

"So Langly tells me."

"He worked at Fort Detrick."

"That I knew."

"You know what they do there, don't you?"

"Biological warfare research."

"Bingo."

"I gather your mother didn't approve."

"She didn't...she was fine when it was military projects. But as he got more and more involved in...civilian projects..."

"I didn't think they did civilian projects at Fort Detrick."

"They don't. But there were things that were experimented on using civilian populations. At least that's what my mother told me."

"Did she have any proof of this?" The woman, from Langly's description, had not sounded incredibly stable. I'd need more than hearsay from Joan to believe this.

"She claimed...that he experimented on her students. In the school she worked in."

"How did she know?"

"She claimed that things were done...chemicals emitted...to change behavior in her students."

"She never had any documentation, though."

"No. But she overheard conversations my father would have with people. She didn't know what people...but she knew what was going on."

"Didn't she ever ask him to stop?"

"I'm sure she did. But he wouldn't. My father was not an evil man, Ally, he truly wasn't. But he knew a lot of...secrets. And my mother threatened him with blackmail right around the time she got pregnant with Ringo. She was going to go to the press and expose him and his cronies."

"Was your father in a decision-making capacity?"

"Not really. He was a lab director. But what was done in those labs was not decided by him."

"So he was only following orders." Langly would love this one. If he ever found out.

"My mother didn't see it this way. She felt he had responsibilities beyond his job, his government...and he did try to quit. But you don't quit when you work in certain...capacities."

"He could have certainly gotten a university position."

"He could have. That wasn't the problem. He had a high level of clearance. He knew a lot. And you don't just quit when you did what he did."

She took a cigarette from my pack. "Do you mind?"

"Nope, go ahead."

"Anyway, things continued to deteriorate between them. They were both drinking very heavily, arguing, and my mother wanted out. But my dad-you have to understand-my dad was very nervous about being alone. And he knew that my mother knew things, and he was determined not to let life get more out of control than it probably already was."

"So how'd you get a much-younger brother in the picture?"

She looked down, ashamed. "I'm not supposed to know this...but I think...my father forced her...you know." Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. "My mother could not warm up to Ringo. She rejected him from the start. Now, I don't think it was the right thing to do...but if what my mother hinted at is correct, I think I could almost understand why."

So could I, I thought silently.

"He was a cute little boy, you know."

"You showed me the photos. He was adorable." I grinned. "And he still is."

"I know," she smiled. "To me, he's still my baby brother, and he'll be a little boy forever in my mind. Which is ironic, because he's really become an adult."

"Ah, he can be a brat when he wants to be," I laughed.

"Well, I guess some things never change."

"He's a good guy, Joan. The best. He's got the kindest heart in the world."

"Deep inside that crusty interior beats the heart of a real softie," she concurred. "I like that you don't take advantage of him that way, Ally. Because he really always got easily hurt."

"He still does. And I'm not always careful with him. Sometimes he just needs to be told off, though."

"You two...seem at ease with one another. He's comfortable with you."

"And I with him."

"Were you comfortable with your first husband, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Yes, I was. I enjoyed him. I loved him. And I do miss him still."

She looked pained. "I was so passionately in love with Roy...he seemed to have the strength and power that I never had had. His life had an order mine lacked. He was everything I wasn't, and everything I needed. Or so I thought." She dragged lightly on her cigarette; at least she wasn't choking this time. "And what flattered me most was how much in love he seemed to be
with me. He gave me lots of attention, which I didn't get at home.

"But I think back on it...and I watch how you and Ringo joke around with each other. You argue, but you don't hang on to it. You sit and have conversations about everything and nothing. You make decisions together on the kids, not having one of you hand down edicts and the other following. I do think you two drink a bit much, but you seem not to be affected by it in your work or relationships with people, and I have to tell you, for all the condemnation of alcohol by our church, there are so many women taking Valium and Atarax...as if that were a cleaner alternative. No, I was never at ease with Roy. I worshipped him for a long time. And that's never a relationship of equals. And when I stopped worshipping him...the love in me died. It was nothing sudden. I just wanted...more. And that's why I think I had an affair." She blushed; this topic still made her uncomfortable. "I wanted something that was mine. And as wrong as it was, I'm not truly sorry I did it." It was the first time I had ever seen a glimpse that Joan might have inherited her brother's tendency to get lost in the stubborn zone as well.

"I'm going to have some charges on your phone bill. I'll pay you when the bill comes," she promised. "But it was worth it...I had a real conversation with my daughter for the first time in years."

"How'd she take the news?"

"She was...I hate to say it, but she was delighted. She and her father haven't gotten along in many years." Then she smiled a big Langly smile. "And when she gets the chance, she's going to come and visit her Uncle Ringo. She hasn't seen him since she was younger than Miranda, you know. And she always adored him. They were really closer in age than Ringo and I were. More like peers."

"You have a son, too, don't you?"

This gave her pause. She looked terribly sad. "Chris...is his father's son. And he'll have nothing to do with me as long as I won't apologize to his father."

"Joan, I don't think you need to apologize to him for anything. He did beat the crap out of you, you know."

"Yes...but...it does take two, Ally." She looked down again. "I blame myself for a lot of what has happened."

A ridiculous concept. Or not? How was I to know what went on in other people's marriages? I barely could keep up with my own.

"Have you served him yet?"

She shook her head in the negative. "My lawyer...is still preparing documents. She did file a temporary restraining order, though."

"That's good for what?"

"30 days. Then I can file one more time, and after that, I have to show cause for a permanent one."

"I think you could do that with some ease."

She looked dubious. "Don't underestimate Roy. He's a lawyer himself, you know...and a very clever one. I will probably end up with nothing more than I have now, and I don't care at this point." Langly, Byers, Frohike and Michael had indulged in a little funky poaching two weeks prior and had gotten a large number of her clothes-Langly indicated they'd need a moving van to get her whole wardrobe-and her photographs and school materials.

And she was about to find out what it was like to live on a teacher's salary. Whatever she thought about her life with her soon-to-be-ex, this was going to be serious culture shock for her.

And since her social life revolved around her church and her husband's firm of high-powered Fundamentalist lawyers, she was very likely being reviled as we spoke. I noticed that her attempts to contact her female friends from her church were thwarted. Fortunately, she did have her work. I wasn't sure how much comfort it was providing her right now, but it was there, she had friends there, and she did draw a paycheck, even if it was a tenth of the size of her husband's.

And she did have us. Langly of course was thrilled to have her around him, although even he had mentioned that sometimes she got a bit overbearing (shades of Miranda complaining about him). And Miranda seemed to have struck an immediate kinship with her. Joan constantly marveled at Miranda's strength of character, and Miranda adored her Aunt Joan. I wasn't sure about the source of the connection, but I wasn't about to argue with it, either. Shelby also seemed to like her; she was more reserved with her than Miranda was, but there was some affection there.

She did, naturally, think Byers was wonderful, although she was a bit suspicious of Frohike and Michael (okay, I can understand that). Still, she'd begun to warm to Frohike-almost everyone does. He's ultimately intensely lovable. Ellen and Dana seemd totally intimidating to her. Reminding her that both of them were veteran law enforcement officers didn't
seem to console her on that score.

Like it or not, there is something about having to draw your weapon that changes you forever, Ellen had once told me. And I believed it.

Of all of the people who weren't living in our house (sometimes it just seemed like they were), Mulder seemed to be able to put Joan the most at ease. This was an endless source of amusement for Langly and me, but whatever else you say about Mulder, the guy is a very good shrink. He may be screwed up as hell, but what he might not be able to do for himself, he
could do for others. I could see why. Mulder did have a velvety soft voice, a sweet expression, large eyes, and good manners when he felt like it. And Joan got to see him interact with his daughter, which utterly melted her.

Hell, you'd have to be made of stone not to respond to that.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of people coming into the kitchen, many of them appearing to be on the far side of intoxication. Langly bounded into the living room, and announced in triumph that he had most correctly guessed the point spread in each quarter, and came the closest to the final score, with NC State coming out on top.

"So'd everybody pay up?" I laughed as he pronounced himself king of the betting pool.

"All except Mulder and Michael. And they're not going to forget about it, either." He rewarded himself with a huge, shit eating grin. He kissed me on the mouth-oh God, the lips on that man-and then went over and kissed his sister on the top of her head. "So how's doing, Joanie?"

"Fine. Just preparing my lesson plan for the week." She snapped her book closed. "Ringo, you really oughtn't to gamble your family's money."

"Hey, it was only 50 to join this pool."

"Yeah, and what about all the other games?" I winked at him.

"Mostly 10 and 20, and in case you forgot, I won most of 'em!" He was beaming. "'Sides, you don't mind, Ally?"

"Babe, there's a world of difference between mind and tolerate."

"Such as?"

"About the difference between rape and seduction." Joan actually blushed on that. "But if you bring me a Dos Equis, I'll forgive you."

"And here I was gonna ask for you to bring one for the victor," he grinned. He didn't need to; Byers handed me one, and he'd already popped the lid. Frohike and Michael were already into theirs, and to my surprise, Jo was with them, enjoying a cold one as well.

"Hey, what about me?" Langly whined to Byers.

Byers shot him a look. "Excuse me, you won all my money. I don't think any further groveling is in order here."

"God, I get no respect," he moaned.

"Jo, hi," I waved to her. "How was your afternoon spent in the company of these wild men?"

"Other than being slightly poorer, very enjoyable," she assured me. She walked over to Joan. "You must be Joan. I'm Jo Gilfillan. Ally works for me."

"She thinks," I commented.

"Joan, I know we've never met before...but I was talking to your brother during the halftime show, and I have a proposition for you."

"God, must have been a crummy halftime show," I interjected.

"You're right, no beautiful women in skimpy costumes," Frohike looked disgusted. "Truly depressing."

"God, couldn't they get somebody better than Celine Dion for the national anthem?" Michael groaned. "That is one butt-ugly woman!"

"She can carry a tune," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but God...and I hear she's married to some real old guy-"

"All right, Michael, enough." Frohike placed a hand on his son's shoulder, and for once, Michael didn't flinch at being touched. And he even momentarily shut his mouth.

"But man, my dad was right. You expect babes at halftime! There were like no babes!"

"Thought you were saving yourself for Kellie Richardson on ER," teased Langly.

"I am," Michael declared shortly. "But I can look, can't I? I mean, I'm not dead, I'm not blind, and I'm not gay!"

"Joan," Jo managed to rise above the din, "I'd appreciate it if you would come to dinner with me...we can talk. It's all right. I'm well aware of your situation, and I'd really like to help you."

Joan seemed a bit nervous, but assented. Jo really was a caring person underneath it all; maybe Joan could sense this.

"And Langly's buying us all dinner. He did win all our money, you know!" Michael shot out.

"Yes, so I've heard. In spades."

"Since when does the winner have to buy dinner for all the losers?" Langly whined.

"Since now." I took him by the hands and kissed him. "Besides, you could collect on your...reward later."

"Like a reward for good behavior?" He eyed me lecherously.

I kissed him again. "Something like that."

END OF PART 76