Rating: PG

Summary: Throwing popcorn at the TV screen while watching MST3K-that's Martha's visual, and it's so cool, I had to steal it.

Spoilers: Nope.
 

MICHAEL:

December 26, 2000

Christmas Day sucked. I spent most of it on the sofa in total agony. I slept a lot, but it didn't help, I'd still wake up with a killer headache and not having my glasses, I couldn't watch TV or anything. My dad spent a lot of time holding me and rubbing my back.

I've got to give him a break sometime.

But I need him so bad right now.

He put me in my own bed last night, but I kept hearing him get up. I think he's still worried I'll slip into a coma or something, although I suspect at this point that's not gonna happen.

I just may never get over this headache.

Plus I'm worried about Kelly. She called last night and she had a real sucky day. She sounded so bummed. I wanted her to come over, but she had to get up early today to train her replacements, which her mom is giving her more and more shit over. She's starting to wonder if she should do it.

I spend a long time on the phone telling her she has to do it.

I tell her I know she should do it.

I'm probably gonna get her in a shitload of trouble.

She's all worried about her mom. When she's not there, she worries about what's gonna happen with her, how much she's drinking, what her boyfriend's gonna do to her. And she worries about Tracy, who's a nice kid but dumb as a post.

Kelly tells me she thinks part of this is due to the fact that when Tracy was three, her mom and her got in a car accident and Tracy was in a coma for two weeks.

"As we'd say back in Beckley, 'girl just ain't right,'" she exaggerates her West Virginia twang, which is mostly not there most of the time.

I notice when she's upset it comes out more.

On her, it's pretty. On her mom, it just sounds trashy and stupid.

Kelly says she used to practice her speech and grammar in front of the mirror when she was little. She didn't want people to think she was from Appalachia, didn't want her to think she was like the rest of her people.

She sounds so bummed out. I keep thinking, what can I do to make it better for her?

So far, I don't think I've done shit.

If anything, I made it worse for her.

I ask her if Troy's bugging her, and she just says, no more than usual. She doesn't want to talk about it.

I will kill that bastard if he tries to do anything to hurt her.

Dad asks me what's wrong when I get off the phone, but my head is killing me, I don't want to talk anymore, I probably stayed on with Kelly too long but she really needed me.

I want her to need me.

But I need her too.

At least Dad was there all day, and when I got off the phone, he put a big pillow in his lap and settled my head on it and just held me till I went to sleep.

I slept a long time, but somehow it doesn't help.

I've got less than two weeks to get better.

And what's really rude is that since I got clobbered, I've started coughing again. Big time.

And I have to go back to Bergman on Friday.

Which means I will probably end up spending the rest of my Christmas break on the sofa.

I can't win. I can't break even.

I can't even quit the fucking game.

So I'm still sleeping when my dad pops into my room and calls me. Says I have to get up.

"I feel like shit. I'm not moving."

"Sorry. You've got appointments up the ass, dear boy."

"What're you talking about?" I pull the blankets over my head, but he pulls them back down and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Last time I checked, your myopia didn't clear up just because your glasses were ruined. And according to your instructions, you are to see your regular physician, it was supposed to be yesterday, but since it was Christmas, you got off the hook until today. So get moving there."

"How about if I lie here and die quietly?"

"I think not."

"Why?"

"Because, dear boy of mine, I've been awake for the better part of 48 hours, not to mention the previous month, and you are going to cooperate." Dad voice. The do not argue with the bear voice.

"I need a shower."

"So take one."

"I get dizzy when I'm on my feet too long."

"Michael, knowing what's happened, do you seriously think I'd let you take the fall?"

No, he wouldn't.

"Dad?"

"Yes.?" He sounds beat, and I think he's losing patience.

"I need some help here."

And he doesn't turn me down.

I hate to ask him this...

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Can you like, stay nearby while I'm in the shower? Just in case I feel lousy?"

"I wasn't going anywhere without you. Come on. Up." He takes my hands and helps me out of the waterbed. I love this bed, but when you're in total pain and your body won't cooperate, getting out of it sucks.

I lean on him all the way to the shower.

God, I've got to get more self-reliant.
 

Car rides are a nightmare right now. I can't see anything, so I'm real disoriented, and it's a totally freaky feeling, and I'm still in total pain.

I think I got kicked in the groin. Not to mention every place else.

I hadn't taken a shower since before it happened, and this morning I discovered I was one massive bruise. Kelly says the technical term is 'ecchymosis.'

By any other name, color me purple.

I've got to pick out new glasses, which I'm not in the mood to do. It's always such a pain.

I wonder if Dad would spring for contacts. I never thought about getting them before, always too expensive. I'm trying to think of who wears them.

Ally wears hers most of the time. She says she really likes them. Langly has them but doesn't like them, so he rarely puts his in. Byers likes his, but Juliet likes him in glasses. So he doesn't wear his lenses so much anymore. Mulder likes his, wears them nearly all the time, and so does Ellen.

I think the likes them has it over the doesn't like them.

I'd ask Kelly what she thinks, but she's already working, and I'm not about to bug her at work.

This is assuming she even notices I wear glasses. Which maybe she doesn't.

If I'm gonna ask, I'd better do it soon, since eyes come first this morning, and I know it takes longer and costs more money if you want contacts.

I hate to ask him, but I guess the worst he can say is no.

Besides, a guy's gotta be able to see.

So I ask him.

He's mulling it over. Wants me to see how much it costs.

Well, at least he didn't say no.
 

Two hours and a few hundred dollars later, we leave the optometrist. He's up in DC, which was a real sucky drive, it takes too goddamn long, but Dad's been seeing this guy for like forever, knows him, and figures he's not getting ripped off too bad.

And I scored a set of contacts. I'm getting the soft ones. Ally says the gas perm ones correct better, that's what she wears, but the soft ones are more comfortable.

They weren't bad. It's sort of weird sticking something in your eye, but I tried it a few times, I could do it.

I wish I hadn't looked in the mirror, though.

I hope I look a hell of a lot better when I'm not all bashed up.

Because right now, I am one ugly fuck, lenses or no lenses.

I also had to pick out a pair of glasses, guess you still need them even if you plan to wear your lenses most of the time. The optometrist tells me they have ones you can sleep in, but he won't prescribe them, says people get too many eye infections.

I'd just as soon avoid anything that requires medical treatment right now.

And it's not over. We're back in Alexandria, I have a couple hours before I have to head to Bergman's office, so Dad says we can go home. He asks me if I want lunch, but all I want to do is sleep. My head's killing me.

I'm out for the count on the sofa when Dad wakes me up again, says it's time to hit Bergman's. This is not a trip I'm looking forward to. The dude is decent, but I've seen way more of him lately than I ever would want to.

About the only good thing I can say about it is, it's a short drive.

Does this guy ever have anything but a standing room only crowd in his waiting area? If he's gonna do this, he needs more magazines.

Dad's brought his own. It says Field & Stream on the outside, but this is just a cover. I happen to know he's got Celebrity Skin inside the cover. I suspect I'm not supposed to know this, so I pretend I don't know, but I think deep down he knows I know...

My head is throbbing. I can't think like this.

Least he could do is share. Of course, my lenses aren't ready, neither are my glasses, so I can't see shit anyway, but I can still appreciate a naked Cameron Diaz, or Lisa Kudrow, or Mira Sorvino, or...

Actually, I'd be happy if I could see Kelly naked right now.

I'd be a lot happier if she were happier right now.

I tell myself not to worry about her. She's a tough girl, way tougher than me.

But I worry anyway.
 

Some centuries later, I finally get called. I lean over to tell Dad I'll be out in a while, and he pulls his magazine up to his chest.

Gotcha.

I wonder why he's so weird about it around me. I mean, he and Mulder, from what Langly and the prof tell me, used to trade dirty downloads all the time.

And I bet when I've gotten up at night, he's been in the middle of serious adult chat-room crawling.

And I know he bills his 976 calls to Mulder. How do you think I got the idea?

All of a sudden I realize: I haven't called a 976 number in months.

Oh my God.

What's happened to me?
 

Bergman finally cruises in, Mr. Anti-Stress, takes one look at me and I can tell he's shaking his head.

"You just couldn't wait till Friday, could you?"

I'm trying to think of some snappy retort, but it's not coming.

I settle for moaning and damn near screaming when he hits some of the more tender spots.

"How's your young friend?" he's asking as he's jabbing me in the ribs.

"She's okay."

"Ariana is looking forward to her starting."

"Ariana?"

"Dr. Shalad."

"How well do you know this Dr. Shalad?"

"I hope reasonably well. She is my wife, after all." He laughs.

Oh God. Kelly is going to be working for the wife of someone who has seen me totally naked.

This is not a heartwarming thought.

The good news is, I've got nothing broken, he says it looks like I'm getting over the concussion and I'll probably be better in a couple weeks.

The bad news is, I've got congestion in my lungs. More than the last time. He thinks it's maybe because I got the shit kicked out of me, but I have to do ANOTHER fucking course of antis, just to make sure.

My life sucks.

So I tell Bergman this should cover my Friday visit and he's like, no way.

Arrgh! The only good thing is, I score some painkillers.

I said my life sucks.

Actually, it would suck if I actually had one.
 

December 30, 2000

I got my contacts today.

They make you spend like a whole bunch of time there putting them in and taking them out so that you know what you're doing.

It's still weird to be putting something in my eye, but I got a decent surprise today-I looked a lot better than I did last time. Translation: I didn't have so many bruises.

So this is sort of what I look like without glasses.

Well, Ben Affleck I'm not.

But I'd like to think it's an improvement.

My eyes really are green. Wow.

Kelly came by the other night, but she hasn't seen me in them yet.

She says she finishes her shift at 6 tomorrow night-and it's her last night working at her mom's.

I thought she'd be a lot happier, but mostly, she seems nervous.

So I asked her if she'd like to come over and watch videos and stuff for New Year's, and she said sure.

I didn't know if she would, but she seemed like real happy to do it.

I can't wait.

I've been on the sofa most of the week. Dad's been leaving me alone the last couple days-they're doing some stuff for Mulder, and when Mulder says jump, everybody says how high.

Sometimes that guy just annoys me so bad.

So they're off doing the king's bidding-Ally's phrase, I think he annoys her too sometimes-and it's me and the Cartoon Network.

I sort of like Sailor Moon now. She's hot.

As I said before, I have no life.

But at least me and Kelly get to spend New Year's Eve together.

I'm lying on the sofa, as usual, when Dad comes in. I ask him if they got Mulder what he wanted, and he says yeah.

And he's carrying a large bag with a hanger. Like the ones our tuxes came in...

Okay, who's getting married? I haven't been THAT out of it.

Dad says he and Jo are going dancing and dining for New Year's and it's black tie.

Which I guess means fancy duds.

I hated my tux at Langly's wedding, but I think Dad gets off on it. Of course, thing I hated most about my tux, I lost a lot of the pieces of it and I didn't get my security deposit back. Dad was the only one that got his; even the prof was missing some parts.

They're going to some hotel to celebrate. Dad says it's been more years than he can remember since he went festive on New Year's.

"And throwing popcorn at the TV during MST3K doesn't count," he adds.

More action than I've seen in ages.

I tell him Kelly's gonna come over and we're gonna watch movies and hang. He says behave.

I wonder if it's a line that comes with dads as part of the equipment. I wonder if I'll say it when I'm one.

WHEN I'm one?!

Oh Jesus.

I must've been sick way too long. My brain has totally fallen apart.

I mean, a loser like me spawning?

I'm probably the best argument I know for birth control. God forbid I start replicating.

Of course, you generally need to have sex to replicate, and that doesn't seem to be happening.

I'm going insane from this fact.

But I don't want to do it unless she really wants to.

Unless she really wants me.

I want her to want me so bad.

I want her to be happy.

I want her not to worry so much.

I want things to happen for her, all the things she wants to happen.

This is just so weird.

I don't know what's happened to me, but it's like I'm not even myself anymore.

It's a stranger in those contact lenses.

END OF PART 34