Rating: PG

Summary: About time that girl smacked somebody. And there are those who would argue that it's time Langly got a haircut...for all of you who think that, read on...and Martha, since you like him in bangs, I gave him some.

Spoilers: None. Twisted one around from 'E.B.E.,' but that's about it.
 

"And now the question is serious
Whether we take a good or bad one; for there is no easy escape
For a woman..."

Euripides, "The Medea," Lines 235-237. Translation by Rex Warner. Copyright 1955 and used without permission.
 

Peribolaion
 

May 7, 2000

"I don't believe this!" Miranda was nearly in tears. "The color came out all wrong!"

I knew I shouldn't have come.

Another girls' day out-this time to pick up wedding party dresses. Should be painless enough, I figured.

Wrong again.

"This doesn't look anything like what we ordered," Dana's expression was one of displeasure and consternation. I'd forgotten how fussy she could be.

"I don't have a problem with this," Ellen shook her head. "It's really not that bad."

"It's bad," Shelby decided.

The decided-upon color had been somewhere between teal and jade. What came back was a deep turquoise, and there were a lot of upset people.

"I really don't see what the fuss is about," Joan announced. "The dresses are still lovely. And it really doesn't matter, if you think about it."

"It matters a LOT!" Miranda considered this statement an affront.

"I just paid 250 dollars for a dress," Dana frowned. "I'd like to get what I paid for."

"Well...when you put it in those terms," Joan was attempting to play both sides, and not being successful with either one. I think it was the story of her life.

"Look, I think we oughta let the bride decide," Ellen wanted the matter resolved as rapidly as possible.

"That's fair," Dana conceded.

"After all, it's her wedding," Joan agreed.

"I am NOT wearing that color!" Miranda was nearly screaming, and I wasn't happy about it.

"Miranda, chill," I warned.

Shelby gave a look of utter disgust. "If Ally says it's okay, then it's okay. I guess."

"Look, I'm not dealing with this. You all put your heads together and figure out what you want to do." I started to walk away. My temple was starting to throb; I could feel the pulsations of a migraine working its way in.

Not that going home would have been particularly helpful. Langly had been snappish all week; I prayed he wasn't getting cold feet. Frohike was attempting to be reassuring, saying he was just acting like a typical bridegroom, but I noticed Frohike, in putting this wedding together, was getting frayed around the edges, and I'd seen him snarling more than usual, particularly at Michael and Langly. I'd even seen him yell at Byers once, and Byers usually managed to escape Frohike's wrath even in the worst of circumstances.

The girls had been, well, awful. Tense and worried over every last detail of the upcoming festivities, they'd argued with one another almost continuously for the last week. Things had gotten to where the previous night, Jo and Joan had come and taken Shelby for the night, just to give the girls some space. Then Miranda got angry because Shelby was chosen to go this particular time, and she sulked bitterly the rest of the night.

Byers was nervous as well; Juliet was moving to the area this weekend. He'd found her an apartment in Fairfax, where she'd decided to accept one of the positions she'd been offered, and she seemed agreeable to the arrangement. He still obviously had questions about the relationship, that much was obvious. I just hoped that the decisions they'd made were the right ones,
and his wishing for the same thing was all over his face.

And the worst was yet to come-my mother would be arriving on Thursday.

No wonder Joan was the calmest one of us at this point, which was an ironic turn from the previous weeks. Staying with Jo seemed to be a good arrangement; they seemed to have struck up a rapport.

Joan came after me as I moved away from the better dresses department.

"Ally honey," her voice was soft. "Come on, let's get you something to drink."

I closed my eyes and leaned against one of the cosmetics counters. "I said I was going to stay out of this, and I should have. This is a fiasco."

"Relax, they'll work it out," her voice was kind, soothing-like Langly's when he was being tender. "And while we're at the cosmetics counter, maybe you should pick out some makeup to wear."

"I was just going to wear my regular stuff-it's hard to get good colors for redheads." I'd been wearing the same brands and colors for years. God help me if they ever discontinue the lines.

"Nonsense. I've been coming here for years. Let's see what we can find."

"Joan, I'm just so-" I almost burst into tears.

"Overwhelmed, yes. Well, it's not like you're a bride every day." She walked me over to the Origins counter. "Here's a line you might like. I love their foundation."

"I'm allergic to foundation." Any kind Miranda had ever tried on me, I'd gotten a rash from.

"Maybe the Clinique counter, then." She led me around to another counter staffed by a black-smocked woman who'd been painted to the nines. "Rosalie, hello." Apparently Joan was on a first-name basis with some of the help.

"Mrs. Renshaw!" Rosalie obviously remembered all her regulars. "What can I help you with?"

"It's for my sister-in-law here," Joan indicated me. "She's marrying my baby brother next Sunday, and she needs some good choices. Oh, and Rosalie-" her voice became soft, conspiratorial-"I'm not Mrs. Renshaw anymore. I'm divorcing my husband. Just call me Joan."

"Okay-Joan." She looked at my face, brushing a strand of my hair back. "Such pretty coloring."

"I'm pale as a ghost," I protested.

"You're Irish?" she asked.

"Ethnic Jew. Austrian, Russian and Finnish."

"Well, you have very pretty blue eyes and pink lips, and we can help you get some color in those cheeks. Have a seat." I looked at Joan helplessly, who just smiled gently. She turned and began to examine the merchandise-and there was a lot of it. I really didn't get out much, I decided.

"Joan? Joan Renshaw?" Two overdressed and overly made up women called out her name, and she jumped, startled, like a deer in headlights. The earlier relaxed expression gave way to tension and terror. "What are you doing here?"

Joan looked as if she was going to choke, but gasped out, "Shopping."

"Well, I'm surprised you're here, what with you leaving Roy and all." The second woman's tone was scornful, patronizing. I wanted to slug her.

"Honestly, are you sure this is what you want? Really, Joan. A good, Godly man like Roy-what's gotten into you? Midlife crisis?" The first woman was worse than the second. I was thinking now along the lines of homicide.

"I-I'd rather not discuss it," Joan said nervously.

"He's hoping you'll reconcile. He asks the congregation to pray for you every time there's a service, and we've got you on our prayer chain." The voices lacked compassion, even though the words were, theoretically, kindly. "We're all praying for you."

"Thank you," Joan's voice was tense, strained.

"I just can't believe-after all Roy's been through with you-"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. I was feeling the migraine working its way into my brain and taking over whatever decent manners I possessed. "Just get the fuck out of here already!" I could feel the tears bubble over into my eyes.

"This wouldn't be the-uh, infidel your brother is marrying? Roy told us to pray for him, too." The first woman had her index finger pointed sharply at me.

"I doubt that," I said acidly. "Now leave."

"Really, Joan, think it over," the one woman said. "Pray on it. It looks as if you've gone over to the Devil, and you know what happens when you get off the path-"

"GET OUT OF HERE!" I was no longer seated, and I had my little hands balled up into two tiny fists. I hadn't slugged anyone since I'd punched Dan at the age of nine-but I was madder than hell now.

"Come with us, Joan," the second woman urged. "Get your life right with God."

"Just GO!" I shrieked. And before I realized what was happening, my little fist landed right on the second woman's nose.

"Oh, my Lord!" The first woman screamed. "Oh, my Lord!" I could see a thin trickle of blood coming from the second woman's nose-and I didn't feel anything but a slight, gruesome satisfaction.

"Come on, let's go to the ladies' room," first woman urged. Before she moved on, she turned severely to Joan.

"Joan Renshaw, you'll be burning in hell."

Joan looked mortified, but got up enough courage to speak to them as they turned their backs and walked off.

"It's Joan Langly, not Renshaw."
 

We abandoned the cosmetics counter. Joan concluded that with what I had at home and Miranda's considerable skills, I didn't need any additional paint.

We were sitting in the café of Nordstrom's, trying to get calm.

"I'm really sorry, Joan," I sobbed. "I think...things are just getting to me. I know they're your friends and all."

"Were my friends," she said softly. "I thought they were. Not now." She sipped her raspberry tea. "Don't worry about it...I actually rather enjoyed it." A small hint of her brother's evil grin appeared. "I shouldn't, I know, it's wrong. But I got some...vicarious satisfaction, if you know what I mean."

"Have all your friends deserted you?" I asked tearfully.

"Not my friends at work. But everyone from my church...Roy has them all believing that I'm a cruel, selfish, evil woman possessed by the Devil. People I thought really cared about me treat me like I no longer exist. I couldn't even go back to church last week. I can't bear to be there with Roy there, to listen, to see everybody look at me as if I were...tainted.

"I'm so grateful to Jo for letting me stay. I was nervous about it. But it's worked out well. We've had a lot of good talks. And Melvin has been very kind." Frohike had another one on a first-name basis. "He's been keeping Roy under some surveillance, you know."

"No, I didn't." I was a bit surprised, even though I probably shouldn't have been.

"Well, I was feeling a lot of guilt about leaving Roy...I suppose that's only natural. He blames Ringo, of course...but Ringo was just a...catalyst. Well, Ally honey, I don't feel guilty anymore." Her voice became hard, angry.

"Why's that?"

"Because I come to find out that Roy cheated on me the entire time during our marriage."

"You didn't know."

"I think...I chose not to know. I always suspected...but there was nothing I could ever prove."

"Did Frohike say how he got this information?"

"He didn't. And he won't. But he claims he got it through...Congressional sources. Enemies of my husband. Soon to be ex-husband," she reminded herself bitterly.

"Sanctimonious bastard. I think we call that a fraus pia in Latin. Pious fraud."

"The worst kind," she agreed, nodding sharply.
 

After extensive discussion, and probably not less than at least a few arguments, it was decided that the dresses would be redyed. Nordie's, of course, was not going to charge anyone for the redye, but it would take until Friday night, even with a rush order. At the earliest.

It was up to them. I wasn't going to worry about it. If they had to end up coming in their nightgowns, it wasn't going to be my problem.

I was at the kitchen table, drinking a beer, and Langly walked in from working out in the offices.

"Hey, you're back. And you're not dead."

"Will wonders never cease."

"Hey, couldn't have been any worse than the tux fitting."

"Yes, it could have. And was."

"How'd you know? You weren't there." He popped his open and took a long pull. "Michael was an unbelievable brat. Hey, notice anything different?"

I looked at him carefully.

"Your hair...you cut it!" It was a good four inches shorter than it had been when I'd left the house and just grazed the tops of his shoulders. I had to admit it looked very, very good-the layering that'd been done made it look thicker, with feathery bangs. "I like it, babe."

"Yeah, well, I freaked when they first started snipping at it, but it started looking good real fast. Krissy does good work."

"Miranda's hairstylist."

"Yeah, she's cool. Put some Blasters on while she cut it. Can't argue with a woman who plays the Blasters. Hey, she even made Frohike junior look good."

"Hey, Michael's kind of cute."

Langly looked at me as if I were demented. "Ally, he looks like Frohike!"

"Yeah, well, like I said, he's cute."

"I'm not even gonna go there," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"So how's he look?"

"He's not a redhead anymore."

"He never was. He was maroon."

"He's a brunette now."

"How'd he handle it?"

"Krissy handled him pretty well. He was pretty obnoxious when we got there, but she could deal with him. I guess I gotta admit, he looks more, you know, civilized?"

"I'm not sure why Frohike made such a big deal out of this," I shook my head. I felt my headache dissipating, and it was a welcome sensation.

"Frohike-well, y'know, Fro, he's like, he's paranoid and crazy and all that, but he's just a good Catholic boy underneath it all. Do everything right and all that. Byers is like that, too. I'm not sure why, but Byers got snipped, too."

"He didn't need it."

"I think the patch that's growing back still pisses him off."

"So how's it look?"

"Too damn short. Makes him look like a geek. 'Course, he is one, so doesn't make any difference."

"Jason's not going to cut his, I'm sure of it. I mean, c'mon, the guy's in a rock and roll band."

"Blues and fusion, but doesn't matter." I forgot that Langly and Miranda could spend hours arguing over classifying what a particular piece of music was. "I think the killer was when Frohike got clipped, though."

"He went to Krissy? Did you guys get a group rate or something?"

He laughed. "Well, I mean, it's not like Frohike's got any hair to cut, really, but I think he just wanted to meet Krissy. I mean, she is pretty hot and all."

"So he got his cut as well."

"Yeah, and hit on Krissy."

"Krissy lives with someone."

"I said he hit on her. I didn't say she said yes." He smiled.

"Well, she is only half his age."

"Like that's gonna stop a guy? Particularly a dirty old man like Fro?"

"He's a dirty old man, but he's such a sweet dirty old man."

"Yeah, it's like so weird. I mean, Frohike, he watches some really hard core stuff-you've seen his video collection."

"And contributed to it."

"Yeah, well, it's like, you and me, we start kissing and stuff, he gets all weird."

"I think Frohike separates between fantasy and reality pretty well is all it means. And maybe he just wasn't raised to appreciate public displays of affection."

"Well, I wasn't raised to have any displays of affection."

"Yeah, but here you are, you're incredibly affectionate."

"With you. I just...I like being around you, Ally. I just feel good when you're nearby."

I almost cried, I was that touched. "It's wonderful to be with you, Langly. Why do you think I said yes?"

He just smiled, a sweet, childlike smile that said, I'm happy. I love you. I'm whole. And I felt the same way.

"God, one week and one day away. Then I'm gonna have a wife...didn't think it would ever happen, Ally."

"Why not, babe? You're a great guy."

"Thanks. I just...I never liked people very much, Ally. I'm still kinda nervous around 'em sometimes."

"You? The ultimate party boy? I'm the one who gets all weird in crowds and things." I was rather surprised by this revelation.

"Yeah, but...like, you trust people. I still have a hard time with that. It's getting easier, though."

"You trust Frohike, and John, and me."

"Notice that Mulder wasn't on the list." We both grinned. "Nah, I trust Mulder. He's weird, but he's usually pretty cool. Maybe that's why I trust him. He's even weirder than I am." We laughed. "Kiddies in the basement?"

"Nope. Joan took 'em. Said I looked like I needed a break, and she wanted the company. I guess Jo and Frohike are going to a movie tonight."

"Yeah, he said they were gonna go just relax and have fun. Joanie gonna keep the kiddies all night?"

"Said she was."

"Hmm." He looked into the distance. "Tell you what. Why don't I take you out to dinner? Just us?"

"Langly, are you asking me out on a real date?" I couldn't stop laughing.

"Hey, we're getting married in a week. Probably time I asked."
 

END OF PART 79