Rating: PG

Summary: We're bringing it home, guys. We have taxes, bickering galore...and a discovery.

Spoilers: No.
 

"Stop; cast this savagery from your heart and speak, so that, when I have
heard both you and her in return, I may fairly decide for what reason you
are treated thus."

Euripides, "Hecuba" Lines 1124-1131. JACT version. Used without permission.
 

Negeph
 

April 15, 2000

"We should have gotten an accountant," I complained loudly as we haggled with our 1040.

"I didn't think it'd be this much of a pain," Langly moaned.

"That's because you probably haven't filled one out in years."

"You're right, I haven't. And can't say I'm happy to be doing it again." He looked utterly depressed. "Shit, do we really owe this much money?"

"I've run it three times, with three different depreciation schedules...and yeah, we owe that much money." We were currently in debt to the Feds to the tune of $1,317.00 on top of what we'd paid in during the year."

"Fuck." He was pissed off now.

"Hey, if you'd hung on to the money you won in the basketball pool, we'd be paying for a lot of it right there."

"Hey, you made me buy everyone dinner."

"We went to Bustamante's. That was what, 80 bucks for everyone?"

"More like 110."

"How many beers did we go through?"

"Hell of a lot. You contributed your share," he added pointedly.

"Yeah, but I hadn't spent the entire day getting plastered."

"Well, that's a first."

"Not even. And you were way more wasted than me."

"Was not."

"'Fraid so."

"All right, kids, enough!" Frohike was plugging away at his workstation. We were out in the office, all preparing taxes. Frohike did them for the magazine; Byers, Langly and I were working on personal returns.

The wedding was one month away, and for some reason, the tension was getting palpable. Today was to be the final day for responses to come back (actually, we didn't have to give a count until the 30th, but we weren't telling anyone that). Frohike had Michael plowing through his e-mail while he attacked the TMB 1040.

"We have so far, 548 yes votes, 4 no votes, and the rest are undecided," Michael announced.

"Fuck," I moaned. "That Elvis impersonator looks better all the time, Langly."

He shot me an are-you-insane look. "No way. It's gonna be a killer party. And you wanted the rabbi."

"I didn't say I wanted a free-for-all."

"You didn't want it, you shoulda done the planning yourself. It's done, girl. Deal with it."

"Right now I'm having enough trouble dealing with this 1040. I need to determine if it's more advantageous to do two separate returns or do the head of household thing."

"Thought you did this before."

"I have. I did it every year. It was less complicated. I can do married filing jointly. Right now, regardless of how we look at ourselves, the feds don't share that opinion."

"You two certainly bicker like you're already there," growled Frohike. "I'd appreciate a little peace and quiet, by the way."

"Okay, I'll be peace," I offered.

"And I'll be quiet," Langly countered.

"Thank you." Frohike didn't look up.

"How long till zero hour?" Langly asked.

"One hour, twenty minutes, about."

"We shouldn't have waited so long."

"I told you that! But did you listen to me? NOOOO!"

"Hey, I was busy."

"And I wasn't? It's not like I have no life, Langly!"

Frohike was in no mood to deal with us. "One of you is leaving. NOW."

Langly blinked at him.

"Which word didn't you understand, Blonde Boy? I said, one of you finishes, the other one leaves. And please get an accountant next year. I can't take this shit."

Langly smiled at me. "You can deal with this, can't you, Ally?" He was whining now.

"Fine." I snarled, and stared at the computer screen. "And I want a beer."

"So get one."

"Excuse me, I'm finishing OUR taxes. YOU can get me a beer."

"I'm tired." The whining continued.

"So am I. There're a lot of other things I'd prefer to do on a Friday night. It's not like this is the most fun I've ever had with my clothes on."

"Doing taxes naked. Now that's a concept," Langly mused.

"OUT!" Frohike yelled at him. "And bring me one when you bring a beer for your lady here."

"What, do I look like the butler or something?" Langly demanded, totally affronted.

"You're going to look a lot worse if you don't move that skinny white ass of yours out of here and bring some brews!" The IRS was not doing wonders for anybody's disposition.

"And one for me, too," Michael called as Langly stomped out the door.

"You two argue like you've been married for 30 years," Frohike shook his head. "And the wedding's a month away. I'm trying to get commitment from the photographer, and I'm getting a little pissed off here."

"How're you coming on your forms, Frohike?" I asked.

"Almost done."

"Lucky you."

"Do you need some help, Ally?" Byers called out.

"What about your own?"

"Finished hours ago."

"So what're you working on?" Frohike demanded.

"I was...working on some things for the May issue. We need to jump on it if it's going to go out on time, because once the wedding gets up close, nothing's going to get done."

"Bullshit. He's sending love letters to Juliet." Michael was typing furiously.

"I said I was working. I finished," Byers said tersely.

"Good, then come and help me," Michael hissed.

"What are you doing?" Byers inquired of him.

"I'm trying to get a fix on that stuff in the guest list for Black Hat."

"Oh, so you're doing real work," Frohike muttered.

"Dad, just 'cause you screwed up, and it was your year to do the taxes, you don't have to be an asshole!"

"Michael, you watch your mouth!"

"Well, watch yours!"

"Brat," Frohike hissed.

Byers moved his chair over to Michael's area. "What've you got here?"

"I'm trying to find this string and what it means."

Byers peered intently at it. "This is DOD. I'm sure of it."

"You're shitting me." Michael gazed at him skeptically. "Why'd you think?"

"The arrangement of the alpha characters in the second line. And the format for the coding. This is encrypted, I'm sure of it."

"Langly couldn't find it. He hacked the DOD databases."

"Well, maybe it's not in the DOD database."

"Professor, you just said-"

"I said the strings look to be DOD. I didn't say they were stored there."

"So then where the fuck would they be stored?" Michael demanded, not without hostility.

"Michael, your mouth!" His father fired another warning shot.

"Yeah, and you're the fucking Virgin Mary," Michael shot back. "Quit being so Catholic. Besides, you probably haven't gone to church in years."

"This has nothing to do with that, Michael. I'm warning you to watch your manners!"

"Oh, this is rich. Like yours are so perfect!"

"Michael." The patient, but exhausted and slightly edgy voice of Byers broke in quietly. He still was extremely tired; I think he'd gone back to work too soon, and so did Dr. Ying. I hoped he wasn't going to have some sort of relapse. "Do you want to work on this, or should we save it for another time?"

"Look, I'm on a roll, let's go." Michael's impatience was shining through.

"All right, then quit arguing with your father and let's get to work." Byers issued a huge yawn.

"Look, prof, if you're not feeling so good-"

"I'm fine. Now let's try a few tricks."

"I s'pose you wanna drive," Michael sulked.

"No, you can drive. But if you keep interrupting me, this won't work."

The keys clicked in the door, and our waiter appeared, bearing brews.

"Ooh, Carta Blanca. The first good thing that's happened today." Frohike was appreciative.

"Hey, like don't everybody thank me all at once!" Langly was not in a good mood.

"Thank you, Langly," I smiled very sweetly.

"Langly, find something to work on, except your taxes, or get the fuck out of here," Frohike reminded him firmly.

"And who appointed you God?" Langly barked at him.

"Look, Pentagon boy, make yourself useful and siddown," Michael motioned him over.

"Shall I bend over, too? Jesus!" He shook his long mane and loped over to where Michael and Byers were. "God, are we ever gonna break this thing?"

"Patience," Byers urged, yawning again.

"Byers. Home," Frohike was in a dictatorial mood.

"I'll go home when I'm ready," Byers assured him, trying to be calm, but there was an edge in his voice.

"You people can sit here all night and jerk off, but I'm finished, and I'm leaving." Frohike snapped off his computer. "Michael?"

"Goddammit, I'm busy!"

"Well, I'm leaving."

"Well, I'm working!"

"I'm not waiting."

"Then go. Al'son, can I crash on the sofa if I get too tired?"

"Fine. Whatever. Just don't puke on anything."

"Oh, God, I am NEVER gonna hear the end of that, am I?" he moaned.

"Not in our lifetimes," Langly assured him.

"Oh, like you never drank too much and barfed on everything!" Michael shot at him.

"Believe me, he has. And I've been there for it. Goodnight, all." Frohike closed the door securely behind him.

"Hey, I want details," Michael demanded.

"You'll have to ask your dad." Byers wasn't going there.

"We're finished," I announced to Langly as I hit the send button on the e-mail to electronically file the taxes.

"So c'mon over here and help us," Langly urged.

"She doesn't hack. What's she gonna do?" Michael whined.

"Well, she could keep my lap warm."

"Langly, are you planning to work or is this going to be a high-school style makeout session with your bride-to-be?" Byers demanded.

"I dunno. What do you want it to be?" Langly grinned devilishly, but Byers just wasn't in the mood.

"I'd like some fucking help, if you don't mind!" Michael exploded. "I'm going in circles with this shit!"

"All right, relax," Byers urged, even though he was far from that state himself. "Langly, go into the DOD medical projects database."

"Been there. Done that. Nada."

"Tried CDC?"

"Can't get into CDC from the outside. I've tried it."

"Can I try something?" Byers asked, yawning heavily.

"Be my guest," Michael muttered, moving off to the side and letting Byers take over the keyboard.

I curled up in Langly's lap-fuck it if these guys couldn't take a joke. We'd been at each other's throats all evening, and I was anxious to kiss and make up. I was rewarded with a warm, soft kiss on the mouth and a backrub.

"I'm locked out," Byers sighed after several minutes of trying. "I can't get around this firewall."

"Tried to tell you that," Langly told him as he nuzzled my hair.

"But you got into CDC," Michael looked at Byers.

"I can't get beyond a certain point. And I really don't think this is CDC coding."

"Great, so what do we do now?"

"We're looking in the wrong place," Langly decided, suddenly distracted from the task of cuddling me.

"So what do you suggest?" Byers demanded.

"I dunno."

"Langly, remember when you tried to hack that HMO database and set off every alarm from here to Istanbul?" I asked. Uh-oh. Probably shouldn't have asked that.

"Why'd you think it's in an HMO database?" he demanded.

"I didn't say it was. But didn't you eventually get in?"

"Didn't," he sighed. "I did get in, actually. But Skulk's file...it was like it never existed. I couldn't get down any more levels."

"Maybe it's a file related to that file but stored somewhere else," Michael offered.

"Yeah, but where?"

"Maybe it's not DOD, but just looks like it," Byers offered up.

"We're getting a lot of suggestions about where it's NOT. What about where it might BE?" Langly was impatient again. I wrapped my arms around him, trying to calm him, but he was off and running now. Not out of the chair, but his mind was racing.

"How about some other HMO's?" Michael suggested.

"Tried that. Zip." Langly shook his blonde locks forcefully.

"Well...what about the insurance companies that own these HMO's?" Michael looked tentative all of a sudden.

"What the fuck would an insurance company want with DOD data?" I was puzzled.

"Hmm. I dunno. Long shot." Langly wasn't convinced.

"But it's somewhere to go. And let's face it, we're not enjoying a lot of success at this moment," Byers conceded.

"So like where do we start? How many fucking insurance companies are there?" Langly challenged.

"How about the big ones?" Michael shrugged.

"Might as well. We're not doing terribly well with what we've gotten so far," Byers nodded in agreement. He yawned again.

"Byers, why don't you go the fuck home before you fall down on us again? You got a wedding you better be at one month from today," Langly warned him.

"I'll be there," Byers said sleepily but firmly. "We need to move on this, though."

"All right. Let's do it. Michael? You wanna drive?" Langly asked.

"Gentlemen, start your engines," I said softly, tucking my head under Langly's chin.
 

They worked silently except for the occasional instruction or suggestion as to how to next proceed. I was exhausted and fell asleep, feeling warm and safe in Langly's lap.

I don't know how long I was out, but when Langly jumped up with excitement, I nearly fell on the floor."

"Yessss!" Michael was triumphant.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Langly was in overdrive now.

Byers just stared, three-quarters asleep, incredulous.

"What time is it?" I mumbled.

"4:47. There it is." Langly pointed at the screen.

"Where what is?" I demanded groggily.

"Our character strings."

"Insurance company?"

"Yep. Bunch of 'em." Michael announced, beaming.

"Now we have to figure out how to translate all this," Byers said softly.

"Think it's here?" Michael looked skeptical.

"Gotta be," Langly said.

"Maybe not," Byers countered.

"Maybe you ought to continue this later," I suggested, drowsing off again.

"Not a chance. It's Saturday morning, the system's quiet, we've got our best chance right now. And we're in. Fewer times we go in, less chance of being caught." Michael continued to type in system commands; he was getting lower and lower into the system.

I was totally tired and fell back to sleep in Langly's arms. When I was awakened again, it was daylight-not dawn, daylight. Of the serious variety. The sun shone hard.

"This is all encrypted," Michael commented, and now he was yawning.

"Of course it's encrypted. Let's try a couple different algorithms," Byers suggested, only slightly awake by now.

"I'm going to bed," I announced. I kissed Langly on top of the head, but he barely seemed to notice.
 

I never made it past the sofa. A few hours later, Langly shook me by the arm.

"Hey, wake up, little redhead."

"Yeah?" I was still groggy. "You give up yet?"

"Nope. We got something." He was totally exhausted, but his eyes shone hard.

"No kidding." I guess if anyone could find something, they could. "What'd you find?"

He sank down on the sofa next to me. "A whole lot of stuff we weren't ever supposed to see."

END OF PART 77