Rating: PG

Summary: Martha, I stole your quote and gave it to Juliet.

Spoilers: Only the line from "Wayne's World."
 

Round two of drinks has arrived.

"Men. We can't live with 'em, and we can't shoot 'em." Juliet shakes her head and takes a large gulp of her margarita.

"So what do you want John to do, Jules?"

"Are we talking in general or do you want the blow-by-blow?"

"The blow-by-blow version will do just fine, thank you."

"Okay. You remember the fiasco after John got out of the hospital?" Meaning the night she proposed to him and he freaked out, which resulted in her returning to Michigan and then he followed her there and convinced her to come back to the area...

"Yeah."

"Well, we agreed to the plan that we would live in the same area, but not under the same roof, at first."

"Okay."

"Well, my understanding was 'at first.' I've been here six months nearly. Don't you think 'at first' is somewhat past at this point?"

I'm thinking of the line-was it Shakespeare?-that says the past is prologue...bite your tongue, Allison, and listen for a change.

"In the whole time I've been here, he has not once brought up what his future plans are. For us. For anything, really."

"Have you brought it up?"

"I did that once, and you saw what happened. No. He has to say it this time."

"So what do you want him to say?"

"Well, I'd prefer an engagement ring, but at this point, I'll settle for moving in together."

"I don't know. I think with John, the engagement ring and the moving in probably coincide...I don't really know how he feels about living together outside the legal arrangement."

"He doesn't seem to have any problems doing other things that are definitely skirting the parameters of legal."

"This is different, I think."

"Ally, you have no idea how many times I've considered going off the pill so that I could get pregnant just so I could force the issue."

"That would probably work, but is that how you really want to do it?"

"No, I don't. I mean, yes, I want to get pregnant, and by him, but I want it to be mutual."

"Well, Jules, nobody could ever accuse you of not wanting to take the high road."

"Do me a favor? Don't tell anybody."

"About this?"

"That I'm trying to do the right thing. That would be more than my self-image could handle." We burst out laughing; maybe it's the tequila. But at any rate, it's good to be howling with laughter and having all the other diners stare at us.

They're just jealous, anyway.

"Seriously, though. I can't wait forever for John to decide if he's going to be a martyr the rest of his life or if he's going to move forward."

"At least he didn't put the ring back on after he got well."

"I would never have come had he not removed it. I mean, Ally, he is my sun, moon and stars, but being female, I'm inherently practical. Maybe for men, unrequited affection is the stuff of songs and poetry and novels and great works of art. Women, at least in my experience, are a little more practical about such matters."

"I don't know about that. I don't think falling for the Langly babe had anything to do with practical." This idea makes me chuckle.

"Sure it did. You had a husband you adored. He loved you, too. You could have just been a martyr about it."

"Martyrdom doesn't become me."

"Well, it doesn't become me, either. But John is certainly addicted to it. You, on the other hand, said, I can't have that back. Why not move forward?"

"Well, seems to me it's the only direction you can move. I'm sort of like a shark. I don't move, I die." This analogy strikes me as momentarily weird; more than one time has my mother been described as a shark. Not for the same reasons, but still the same terminology.

The shark analogy is all the more amusing because I am the most harmless person on the planet.

"And there is one thing."

"What's that?"

"In John's apartment...he's put away the photos of Susanne, which made me feel a lot better. I'm not asking him to get rid of them, I just don't need them shoved in my face. All except for one. It's not a photograph. It's a drawing."

"A charcoal sketch?"

"Yep. You've seen it?"

"Only once. Langly drew it."

"Seriously. I have to admit, the drawing's good. But I really would like for him to take it down."

"I might be able to help you with that."

"How so?"

"I have a very close personal relationship with the artist." This makes her laugh.

"You're going to get Langly to take it down?"

"No. I'm going to ask him to draw you."

She looks surprised. "Think he'd do it?"

"I think so. You want me to ask him?"

"You think this might work?"

"It might."

"I don't have a good photo of myself, at least not one that I like."

"Langly doesn't work from photos. He works from memory."

"I'm totally impressed. That boy is a treasure trove of hidden talents."

"That he is. I just wish he'd stop being such a pisshead with me."

"I'm telling you, you're on his turf."

"So I should change my major?"

"No, you should not. But I think he needs a little...reassurance."

"What for? He's got far more brains than I'd have in ten centuries of studying."

"It's not just your studies, Ally. It's more. You just inherited a tidy sum from your mom, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Think about it. Here you are. When Langly meets you, you're a new widow, you're broke, you're new in town, you're a mess."

"That I was."

"And you've got a decent job, but it has no crossover with anything he does, so he's safe. He can be hot stuff. And then he gets a job and finally he's making more money than you, and he's got the power. He's feeling good. He can take care of you. Sounds really politically incorrect, doesn't it?"

"The issue of power keeps coming up here. This is a big thing with you, isn't it?"

"Look, it's the reality. I didn't say I liked it. I just said it was there."

"I don't see it that way."

"Langly does. And so does John."

"So how does this relate to what you want from John?"

"Okay. I know what I want from him, and that's forever."

"Nothing like keeping your expectations simple."

"But I want him to do the asking. Let him have the power."

"When you say 'let him have the power,' it sounds like you have the power, not him."

Juliet smiles, an evil, fiendish, grinchy grin. "Men chase, women choose. Who's in charge there?"

"God, Jules, we sound like we walked straight out of the 50s here."

"Some things never change."

"So what's your plan?"

"You ever heard the Georgia Satellites song 'Keep Your Hands to Yourself'?"

"Yeah. No huggy, no kissy till I get a wedding ring."

"You got it."

"Think you can hold out?"

"Well...we may just have to have a Mel Gibson filmfest soon."
 

MICHAEL:

October 30, 2000

Dad says it's Sunday. He's working at home today, and I've been sleeping on the sofa most of the day. When I get up, he brings me soup and tea and if I need a backrub, he'll give me one.

And I don't feel as bad. I'm tired and I don't feel wonderful, but today it's actually sort of ...nice.   The apartment's warm and I hear the wind blowing outside. Ally hates November, she calls it 'Blo-vember.' It fits. She came by earlier with some chicken soup she made, with garlic in it. It's not bad. I remember Ally's a Jewish mom. The football game's on, but I sleep through most of it. It's okay.

It's kind of nice to be taken care of for a change.
 

ALLY:

Langly is hung over and not happy. He's been spitting nails at me all day. If I don't ignore him, I'm going to cry.

I'm balancing equations and smoking furiously when I finally break. He's been at the table, drinking coffee, just staring me down while I work, and he's got a look on his face that could crack glass.

He didn't crack any glass, but finally, I feel my eyes start to burn and my face gets wet. He cracks me but good.

I ask him not to do this to me. I don't know what I did wrong, but whatever the hell it was, I'm sorry.

I tell him I really need him right now, just as I always have. Maybe more. I'm feeling really insecure and his constant criticism is killing me. And I'm feeling really alone. I may not have gotten on all that well with my mother, but right now I'm really feeling alone in the world. And he's not helping.

I feel like an idiot.

He stays silent. But he does finally come over and quietly puts his arms around me and nuzzles the top of my hair.

I tell him I really need him. Again. And I do.

And he holds on.

It's hardly a resolution, but it's a start.
 

MICHAEL:

October 31, 2000

The alarm goes off. I fell asleep at 6:30 last night, after Dad gave me some soup and my drugs.

That means I slept twelve hours. I feel a lot better.

Time to get up and do it again. It's Monday.

I hang in the shower for a long time again. Dad hasn't been bugging me about it. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

He's still asleep when I get in the shower, so I'm sort of surprised when he's awake when I come out.

"How're you doing?" he asks me, ruffling up my hair, which is still wet.

"Better."

"You sleep for a few more days, you'll be fine."

"I got classes all day."

"Michael, you've got pneumonia, remember?"

"But I'm better."

"Not yet, you're not."

"Dad, I can't miss class!"

"I think you should stay home for a few days."

"No can do." I head for my room so I can get dressed and out the door. "Seriously, Dad, I'd love to stay and chat, but the bus is gonna be here soon, and I've gotta get a move on."

As soon as I close my door, I start coughing like mad.

But I am better...
 

God, it was a long day.

I am feeling better, right?

Not right now I'm not.

My whole body is made of lead.

All I want to do is curl up on the sofa and die.

But I haven't done anything at TMB in over a week. Dad's not bugging me about it, but I bet Langly and the prof are getting pissed.

I don't need to give them any ammunition.

I can take a nap on the bus...
 

When did the hill up the street to Chateau Langly get so huge? I used to do this no problem.

Today it's Mount Everest.

People die climbing Mount Everest.

I may die before I get to Chateau Langly.

I don't. I punch in the security code and let me in the gates. Tiny damn near knocks me over. I'm usually real happy to see her. Today I wish she'd just quit jumping on me.

Tiny's a real crummy watchdog. Worst thing she'll do is love you to death.

I can't smell a lot, but I smell something burning. And it's really rank.

When did Ally switch her brand?

And it hurts my throat.

I shoot back to the offices. I try to stop coughing and I can't.

Dad, the prof and Ally are hammering away at stuff.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Not exactly the greeting I thought I'd get from Dad.

He sounds pissed.

"Working. Which, by the way, you expect me to do."

"Not when you're sick. Go home." Dad's typing away, he doesn't look at me.

I sit down at my workstation.

"I'm okay."

"I think not." Dad is not sounding happy.

Jesus, what the fuck does he want, anyway?

"Whaddya want me to work on?" I've been away for a while. I don't know where everybody's at.

"Getting better!"

God, what is with my dad?

"Michael, I really don't feel like getting what you have, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't share in this case."

The prof is definitely not getting any. He never gets this pissy.

"Michael, go lie on the sofa." Ally's the only one that looks up. She usually looks at people when she talks to them. Sometimes it really makes me uncomfortable.

"I have homework!"

"So take a nap and do it later," she suggests. Maybe this is her idea of being helpful.

"It's not gonna take me that long!" I boot up and start logging in.

I'll do the Java program first. Java programming's not that hard. It shouldn't take me that long...
 

"Michael, we're leaving." My dad's voice. He's shaking me.

I was working on an event handler...I must've fallen asleep.

I need to finish this up. It's due Wednesday and I have to work tomorrow and I'm not gonna have any time to do it tomorrow so I have to do it tonight...

"Lemme finish this."

"I think not." My dad puts his arm around me and helps me get up.

God, I'm tired.

I stand up and I start coughing.

Everything hurts again.

And tomorrow's Tuesday and I see Kelly on Tuesday and I've got to get better...

I let him take me home.
 

Dad heats me up some soup and brings it to me. He's not in a good mood. He won't even let me lie on the sofa. He made me get ready for bed. I'd bitch but I'm too damn tired.

My clock says 6:18 on it.

Looks like going to bed at 6:30 is getting to be a regularly scheduled event, just like TV news.

My life is so thrilling.

"I think you should stay home tomorrow."

"I have tutoring tomorrow." Meaning, I see Kelly tomorrow.

"Do you plan to fall asleep while you're in the middle of working out a problem with one of your students?"

"No, I don't!" I wish he'd quit hassling me. I've got things I have to do.

I don't have time for this shit.

"Look, I'm really trying," I tell him. "You wanted me to do better. I'm doing better. I'm trying."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then why all of a sudden do you decide to change your mind?"

"Because you're sick."

"I've got drugs."

"Which will work if you let them. And you're supposed to visit with one of Dana Scully's friends on Wednesday."

"I have class all day Wednesday."

"That can be dealt with."

"Dad..." I just want him to shut up right now. I bury my face in the pillows.

He's rolling his eyes and staring at the ceiling. "I am surrounded by idiots. Including my own flesh and blood." He sits down next to me, and starts making small circles on my back.

I sort of remember him covering me up, but I'm asleep pretty fast.
 

ALLY:

Famille Frohike has departed, and it's just Byers and me right now; Langly hasn't gotten in from work yet.

He's barely spoken to me the whole time we've been here, so I'm sort of surprised when he fires off a question to me.

"Did you and Juliet enjoy your evening out?" Not spoken in the usual in civilis extremis that characterizes Byers, he's just about spitting the words at me as if he swallowed something foul-tasting.

"We did."

"What did you talk about?" Ooh, boy. Somebody is not happy here.

And I'm not in the mood for his shit. God knows I get enough of it from my own love angel.

I have noticed that turning 45 has made me VERY impatient.

"What do you think we talked about?" If he wants to be hissy, he's going to have to deal with the queen of hiss right now.

"I don't know. I asked you."

"What do women talk about when they're without male company?"

"If I wanted a Socratic dialogue, I'd have done with one of my students. I have no idea what's going on with Juliet and I would appreciate a little help here!"

"So why didn't you say so?"

"I did."

"You did not. You opened up a line of inquisition."

"I'm asking now." He looks defeated. Not that he'd necessarily lose-when both parties are redheads, the results are up for grabs.

"Sex. Power. Love. Money. Respect."

"Oh, so you talked about us."

"He shoots, he scores." There may be hope for this one.

"So why is Juliet so angry with me?"

"She's not angry. She's just not getting what she wants."

"And what does she want?"

"John, why do you think she came out here? She gave up a perfectly good job that she enjoyed halfway across the country, gave up a life she was comfortable in. Why would she do that?"

"Well, we said we'd try living in the same city and see if things worked out."

"Well, are they working out or not?"

"Until the other night, I'd have said yes. Now I have no idea."

"She's decided they will work out. But she'd like to hear it from you. She really loves you, you know. She wants to be with you. And not on a temporary basis.

"I think you'd better make up your mind if she's going to be in your future or not. Because she'd really like to know. Now might be good."

He actually looks as if he might be getting it.

Well, he is a smart boy.

I go back to entering some numeric data, but Langly walks in, comes over, and hugs me. And I hug him back. And those lips...oh God...

"Langly." Byers interrupts our greeting.

"What's up?"

"What do women want?"

Langly looks utterly puzzled. "You're asking me?!"

END OF PART 13