Rating: PG-13-probably some tongue in that there kiss.

Summary: Dee is the property of Martha Little, and I love her. And since Martha loves a Frohike all sobby and sorry...here, we give her one. Plus, we're going to get a spy. And Happy Birthday Kelly. Maybe you'll do some growing up this year.

Spoilers: Nah.
 

"You're kidding." I cannot believe Julie is even contemplating this seriously, much less acting upon it.

"Kid you not," she says. "I mean, when I said it originally, I was only joking...but Uncle Ringo got me to thinking, maybe...I mean, I'd like to know why I can't get a job, people...where my funding went...where just about everybody's funding went. Among other things."

"Julie, you can't do this," her mother begins. Joan looks totally awful. She wasn't looking good when she got here; now she most resembles a corpse.

"It's done," she informs us quietly. "I went up to see him last week, Mom."

"Julie, you're lying to him, and that's wrong." Her mom is extremely upset.

"No, Mom. He and his cronies are lying to US. I know he is. And I think he's part of the whole thing. I think he's a major player in this."

"He's a lawyer for the pastor of the president's church. That's all." But even Joan looks unconvinced.

Through all this, Langly's been silent. "You think you can pull this off?"

Julie looks not completely convinced. "My tongue is likely to be bleeding frequently, because I'm going to be biting it a lot."

"You really think he bought it?" Langly quizzes her.

She laughs. "Oh, Uncle, he swallowed the whole thing! It was almost too easy."

Joan looks very depressed. "You always were Daddy's little girl, Julie. He wants to believe you. I don't like it."

Julie looks at her with an expression I recognize from Miranda-the are-you-insane look that it seems children are perpetually capable of. And here I thought it was exclusive to teenagers.

"Mom, of course he wants to believe me! You think I like it? You think I took this job because I had this wild urge to be tortured by Dad and his associates? Guess again."

"Julie, it's wrong." This whole scenario is causing Joan an unbelievable amount of distress.

She grins at her mom. "Well, Mom, look at it this way. I told Dad I was witnessing to you, and you were paying attention. I mentioned to him that having his minions out and about, coming on to you at work and when you're shopping and doing errands, that's not working, but I think I can get you to turn around." Her smile is positively wicked.

She reminds me in many ways of her uncle.

"Julie, I can't tell you not to do this-"

"Wouldn't matter, Mom. It's happening."

I expect Langly to be somewhat excited about having a mole planted in a useful position, but it seems that in this case, blood ties are creating a degree of worry.

"Y'know, Jules, never thought of you as much of an actress. 'Cept when you want your own way," he says to her.

"Oh, I want my own way. And then some." The evil grin returns.

"What're you gonna do when you get found out? You will eventually."

"I intend to have fallen away from the fold by that point, dear Uncle." She's still smiling.

Joan's not having it. "Julie, this is not a joke."

"No shit, Mom-"

"Julie, please, sometimes your language-"

"You work in a fluid mechanics lab, you'd learn to swear, too, Mom. Seriously, I know it's a risk. But it's one I think I need to take. Because I think things are going to get very, very weird in this country."

"And you think you can single-handedly save us?" Joan is rightfully disbelieving here.

"Get real. No way. But let's get the truth out there, at least. That's the goal here, Mom. The truth."

Joan mulls this over. "I just hope you know what you're doing, honey. This really has me scared."

"Well, if you think I'm not nervous, guess again, people. And not the least because I can't type too well. Uncle? Think you can get me up to speed?"

"You're gonna type?" Langly's incredulous.

"I'm a woman, and a newbie, and remember, we're supposed to submit." More than a little acid drips off her tongue there. She also shoots a pointed look at her mother, who glares back at her. "Oh, and another thing-Miranda, my mom here says you're like the ultimate personal shopper and you can do amazing hair. Think you can turn me into a proper Christian clerical worker?" The evil smile has returned.

"Shouldn't be hard," Miranda shrugs. "When do you wanna do this?"

"I start next Monday. So we've got a week. Next weekend?"

"I'm game," Miranda decides. "I think for the hair, a nice bob...conservative, but with a little bit of style...and more makeup. I
notice the born agains all wear a lot of makeup."

"You make me look like Tammy Faye Bakker, I'll kill you," Julie laughs at her cousin.

"Hey, you'll be a class act," Miranda promises.

"She can pull it off, believe me," I assure her.

"Yeah. Now, if you can learn to keep your mouth shut...and listen up while Uncle Ringo teaches you a few tricks...you'll do just fine." Langly's smiling a little now.

"What kind of tricks?" Julie's not really cognizant of her uncle's activities...at least I don't think she is, totally.

"Watch and learn, my dear niece, watch and learn from the pros. C'mon. We're going out back."
 

Joan offers to help with the dishes, but I tell her to sit. She looks as though she's going to faint at any moment.

"I don't want her to do this." She's so pale and her voice is as thin as she is.

"I think Julie knows what she's doing."

"I'm not sure I agree."

"Joan, are you okay? No, don't answer that. We know you're not okay. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "I'm just...I'm really stressed out, that's all."

"I don't think so. You look like you lost a ton of weight."

"I think maybe a little."

"I think maybe a lot. 20 pounds, Joan? And you don't have a lot to lose to begin with."

She smiles thinly. "Seems to be our family's body type."

"Well, you don't seem to be eating, and nothing upsets a Jewish mother like someone who won't eat." I'm trying to joke about it, but it's not quite working.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeding my brother. He looks good."

"He's doing well. But you're not." Quit changing the subject, Joan. "You seen anyone about this?"

"No...I don't feel like going to my old doctors...they're back in my old neighborhood, and they know Roy...and I just haven't found anybody new..."

Much as I love Joan, sometimes she makes me want to throttle her.

"Really, Ally, it's just nerves. It will pass in time."

How much time?

I'm going to instruct her baby brother to hack into her health records. If he hasn't already.
 

Kelly and Michael are back. I call Miranda from the basement and call out to the offices to inform all present that cake is being served.

The only ones out there are Langly and Julie; Byers and Juliet are most likely enjoying an evening of domestic bliss, and I'm not certain, but I think there's a possibility that Frohike joined Jo and Cecilia for dinner. So we pop 19 candles on the cake, fire them up, and we're all singing to Kelly. She's smiling, but I think her eyes are a little damp.

I hope she and Michael had an enjoyable time at dinner. They need some enjoyment. They're enduring an awful lot of stress for two people who are so young.

She knocks out the candles in one breath-and we all cheer her.

"He didn't make you pay for dinner, did he?" Langly teases Kelly.

"Langly, you're such an asshole," Michael glares at him.

"Ah, yes, and it takes one to know one," Langly shoots back.

Such are the terms of endearment between these two.
 

Langly and Julie venture back into the offices-get Langly going on what he does best, it's like the off switch no longer functions. Miranda's back down in the dungeon, getting ready for tomorrow.

Michael and Kelly are in the hallway. I sneak a glance.

Full body embrace, and a kiss. And not an innocent one, either. It's hardly porno flick material, but it's definitely not just two friends.

Reminds me of the first real man-woman kiss Langly and I shared at Dana and Mulder's wedding. This memory makes me positively melt at the kneecaps.

Langly better not be out in the offices too late.
 

Joan and I are sipping Sleepytime Tea-Byers keeps us stocked with everything from Morning Thunder to Red Zinger to Grandma's Tummy Mint to Emperor's Choice. He must have stock in Celestial Seasonings.

The rings under her eyes suggest she's insomniac, but she says she's been sleeping plenty. And obviously getting no refreshment from it.

"Joan, Langly and I are both worried about you."

A weak smile. "I know, and I appreciate your concern, Ally." She puts a thin hand on top of mine.

Her hands are like ice. And we've been holding mugs of warm tea.

I take one of her hands between mine, trying to warm it up. It doesn't seem to be helping.

And she's shaking. I mean, nervousness seems to be Joan's natural state, but this is beyond sheer nerves.

She looks cold. And she's warmly dressed a la Eddie Bauer, which should keep her plenty warm, particularly in our kitchen, which is the warmest room in the house.

I touch her face very gently, and she jerks back for a moment, then apologizes-she's still uncomfortable with the gesture, she explains.

But she didn't get away fast enough to hide the fact that she's feverish. I'm a mommy. I know this stuff.

Kelly and Michael have long broken their Big Red moment. Michael's gone home and Kelly wanders up from the dungeon, dressed in a pair of sweats, and asks if it's okay if she makes herself some tea. I tell her to take some of the Sleepytime in the kettle.

"I hope you had a happy birthday, Kelly," I tell her.

"My mom never called, did she?" Her face is wistful.

"Not on our line. Did you check Miranda's?"

"Yeah. Nothing there."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." I truly am. How can a mother forget her own child's birthday?

"Happy Birthday, Kelly," Joan tells her.

"Miss Joan, are you all right?" Kelly looks alarmed at seeing her.

I nod slightly in the negative, and Kelly picks up on this, but my gesture is also meant to warn her that we've already been through this.

Joan does look terrible.

I tell her to go and lie down on the sofa, and she tries to stand up, and promptly collapses into a crumpled mass.

Kelly calls 911, and I run outside and start banging on the door-I didn't want to take the time to unearth my keys from wherever they're lurking in the house.

Langly and Julie come close to freaking out when they see Joan, nearly unconscious, lying on the kitchen floor. Kelly's sitting next to her, holding her hand, murmuring some words of reassurance.

Maybe there is hope that one day this baby can grow up and practice medicine.

This is the first indication I've had she might actually develop some bedside manner.
 

Kelly stays with Miranda, and the rest of us pile into Langly's Mustang-I lent Michael my car until the morning-and follow along.

This drill is painfully familiar; God knows we've done it enough.

We're almost there when the Mustang stalls, and decides not to start again. And it's 15 degrees outside, and dark.

Decision making time. It's a mile and a half to the hospital.

We decide to do it on foot, call the Triple A, and deal with it later.

I know this is shallow as hell, but I hope there's an open Starbucks nearby.
 

MICHAEL:

It was a GREAT dinner. I mean, the food at Bustamante's is always awesome, but this time, it was the company, too.

And it's so nice that Kelly actually eats. She doesn't order a lettuce leaf and pick at it.

In fact, watching her eat, I curse the Frohike tendency to pile on the pounds. If I ate like she did, I'd be at least thirty pounds heavier than I am.

She could get expensive, too.

But Ally said she hadn't been eating much, and it was really cool that she just dug in and enjoyed.

Kelly says it's the first time she ate in a restaurant that wasn't her mom's. And she liked it.

She wants to do it again. Good thing I'm tutoring more hours.

I just hope her mom called her. She's gonna be bummed if she doesn't.

At least for a little while, she could forget about the shitty things the fucker known as Troy did to her.

I just hope her mom calls her. I think her mom's a loser, but Kelly still loves her.

I think about my own mom. She says she loves me.

Do I love her?

I don't know.

I actually make it home before Dad, and I figure I'll surprise him by being in bed when he gets in. Might as well-he'll just nag me about it if I'm up when he gets in.

Not to mention that I'm really beat. But for once, it's a good kind of tired.

I tried real hard to give Kelly a good birthday. I think she liked it. She was pretty happy most of the day.

Her unicorn is on the night table next to her bed.

And when I had to go, she kissed me...oh my God.

I'm just glad Miranda was down in the dungeon.

I hear the door open to the living room, keys jingling-Dad's back. He calls out to me, I tell him I'm in my room, and he comes cruising down.

Looks like he might have had a little fun, for a change. Said he went and had sushi with Jo and Cecilia.

He can keep the sushi. I think raw fish belong in an aquarium, not on my plate. But he's got a real thing for sashimi. Langly says that my dad thinks sashimi's an aphrodisiac, another Casey word I didn't know before last semester.

I don't think Dad needs an aphrodisiac at this point, and I sure as hell don't.

Saltpeter, maybe. Rumor has it, when I was in rehab a few years back, they put saltpeter in the food.

I tell him that we had a great dinner, you always do at Busty's, and Kelly really liked it, and she'd never eaten in a decent place before, which amazed me but not my dad.

"I don't think she's gotten out much in her life," he comments.

"She wants to go again. She really liked it."

"Just don't go broke wining and dining the young lady, dear boy. You have expenses of your own."

"Yeah, I know. I gotta get a car. I dunno when I'm gonna have time to shop for one, though."

"Go and see Jaleel."

"I know, I know, I'll get there." My dad really likes Jaleel. I think he's a maniac and a weirdo and I don't trust him. I tell Dad this.

"You're not supposed to trust Jaleel."

"That's nice to know."

"But he hasn't done wrong by us yet. And I should talk to him, see what he has going on from his sources."

"I dunno. The guy weirds me out. But I'll see him, okay? I guess he does do good deals on used cars..."

"Just make certain you specify as to whether or not title matters."

"Huh?"

"Provenance. It makes a difference at Jaleel's. Of course, you pay more for clear title there..."

Provenance...okay, I think I remember that one. Country of origin? Something like that.

"You've still got a cold, dear boy."

"It's not bad."

"Don't run yourself into the ground. I'm getting too old for this shit."

"C'mon, quit worrying, I'll be fine. I didn't die last semester, I'm not gonna do it this one."

"So Kelly enjoyed her birthday?"

"Think so. I just hope her mom called her. She's gonna be real bummed if she didn't."

"I hope she did, too, but honestly, I'm not hopeful...the mother is just not in very good shape."

"You seen her?"

"Not recently. But from all indications, she's got some very serious problems, mostly related to alcohol. An area I am unfortunately very familiar with."

"You?"

"I've been there."

"Well, Kelly doesn't drink. For one thing, she's too young. And I don't drink when I'm with her, 'cause it'd be rude." It was real weird to eat Italian food without beer, but I managed.

"Well, I imagine there's something to be said for that. I have noticed you drink a lot less since you've been with her, and I do consider that a change for the better."

"Hey, it's not like I was a lush or anything!"

"You certainly showed a certain...proclivity for drowning your sorrows...and your mother said something about going through a program a few years back..."

Oh fuck. Leave it to Mom to rat me out.

"Yeah. I got busted for possession, if I went through rehab, I didn't have to do jail time, so I went for it."

"Did you learn anything in rehab?"

"I dunno. I haven't done dope since I got here...don't have a supplier." I try to smile, but he's not going for it.

"Well, Michael, considering what it is we do...I'd like to draw as little attention to us as possible...so I suggest that your current lifestyle of clean and sober is one you'd like to maintain..."

"Hey, we're too good. We'd never get caught."

Dad shakes his head. "Dangerous attitude. How do you think Langly ended up being a guest of the federal government?"

"Well, what about you? You were at their party for a while."

"It was different. I knew what I was doing was illegal, and I knew I could get caught at any time, and I did. Langly was a victim of his own hubris."

"Doesn't seem to have changed much."

"He's still a little cockier than I'd like sometimes, but he did learn to be a lot more careful. And these days, I think he's very careful. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize Miranda and Ally unnecessarily. It's something all three of us worry about, compromising our loved ones. And it's something we constantly weigh out-is it worth it? What do we hope to find out? To what end? Cui bono?"

"Huh?"

"Latin for 'who benefits.' I did have twelve years of Catholic school."

"That was always a big thing with Mom. One of the things that really pissed her off after you...went away was that she couldn't afford to send me and Les to Catholic school anymore, and that really bugged her."

Dad just nods. "I know."

"She's totally convinced I'd have never gone bad if I'd gone to Catholic school." The idea of this amuses me.

"No guarantees anywhere."

"So like, if you'd been there, would you have made us go to Catholic school still?"

"Probably."

Hmm. Maybe there was one benefit in all this...not that I liked public school, but it wasn't nearly so bad as Catholic school. At least nobody pulled on my tie, because in public school, you didn't have to wear one.

And I wonder if I'd even gotten beat up worse in Catholic school. I was always little, so I got beat up a lot.

I wonder if Dad got beat up a lot.

I bet he won't say if I ask him.

One thing I'm wondering is about him and Dee. Seems like Dee was the love of his life. More than my mom even.

This sort of bugs me...and it bugs me even more that he just let her go. How could he do that?

I'd never let Kelly go.

"Dad, what did Dee look like?" I really want to know. I just hope I don't ruin his day...looks like he had a good one for a change.

He doesn't say anything. I think Dee is still a tough topic for him...he gets up and leaves.

Oh fuck. I shouldn't have said anything.

But he comes back, and he's holding some photos. He hands them to me without a word, and I look through them.

She's kind of ordinary looking at first glance, but she's smiling in the second pic, and I can see why my dad would have loved her.

She's got like this million-kilowatt smile, and it just lights up her eyes and makes her gorgeous.

She looks like she's a little shorter than my dad in the pics where there's both of them, and she's got shoulder-length hair, kind of reddish brown, and glasses-the same glasses he wears!-and she's absolutely got tits. Very large ones.

Okay, that explains a lot right there. Dad goes in for tits. Mom was, shall we say, well-endowed, too.

She looks so happy. And what's really bizarre is, my dad does, too. He's got this look of total joy on his face when he's with her.

I wonder if I look the same way when I'm with Kelly. I sure as hell feel the same way.

He looks amazingly like me. He's got more hair in these pics, not a lot more, but more, and he's not grey yet, he had brown hair like me. It's sort of weird seeing him in a shirt and tie, which he's got on in these pics, but he still looks like my dad.

The happier version.

"Looks like she was a real cool lady, Dad." I hand him back the pics.

He just nods. "She was." I think I hear his voice cracking a bit. "Some of the best days of my life...up there with when I became a father." He's definitely on a downslide now.

"At least you tried to get together with her again before she died." I don't want him going all maudlin on me right now. (Another Casey word-I should start keeping a record of this).

"We were trying to make our way back...just don't make the same mistake, Michael. I know I worry about you and Kelly, and nothing will change that. I was...too cowardly to fight for my own relationship..." He's really about to break. I pat his arm.

"Cool it, Dad. It's okay. You did your best."

He shakes his head, hard. "I wish that were true. But I am encouraged by one thing. You seem a lot braver in that regard."

Me?! He's got to be kidding. I feel like I'm fumbling in the dark most of the time.

"I don't think you'll make the same mistakes."

No, I seem to be pretty good at ones of my own making.

"You love her. Take care of her."

He turns away and heads out the door.

END OF PART 45