Rating: PG

Summary: Dad and Baby are trying to get it together...and Dad's trying to reunite with his daughter.

Spoilers: Nope.
 

We have dinner at Chateau Langly. Kelly was the cook tonight. Okay, so it was soup and grilled cheese, but she made lots of it, and it was hot, and it worked for me.

Dad is glaring at me through dinner. I think I really pissed him off. I know he pissed me off but good.

And Langly? Only reason he gets any mercy tonight is because his sister is in such bad shape. I mean, I feel for the dude. I really do. But he keeps bringing up MY sister, and I wish he'd lay off.

Les and me, it ain't gonna happen. No way.

And I got to finish this article, and I got homework still, and I don't need any more hassles tonight.

So after dinner, I'm going back to Ally and Langly's bedroom, but Dad stops me.

"We're going home."

"I got work to do."

"Do it at home."

"I gotta say goodnight to Kelly."

"Don't take six months to do it."
 

I'm real bugged at him, and we both start up in the car. Couldn't even wait to get to the apartment to jump in.

"What the hell did I do that was so wrong?" I shout at him. "You act like I did some sort of capital crime, and all I did was fall asleep!"

"In your girlfriend's bed."

"Yeah. So?"

"Michael..."

"Look, I love her, okay? And I'm not six anymore, okay?"

"I know that." He looks like he's gonna gulp down something bad. "I just don't want you getting hurt..."

"Jesus, Dad, you get burned, does that mean it's gonna happen to me! I mean, I'm not you! Get over it!" We're home, and I hustle up the stairs ahead of him and unlock the door. I'm in my room before he even gets upstairs.

Except I forgot the laptop, which is in the living room, probably buried under the newspapers and laundry we never seem to get done. I got to do that. He does it a lot. He shouldn't have to do it all the time...

Wait a minute! I have a life here!

Yeah, but he does, too.

But it's like he does a lot of stuff...

What the fuck is wrong with me? I mean, I have enough to do, and anyway, he's driving me insane.

I grab the laundry and head down for the basement. I think I've got some quarters.
 

I head back to my room and open up the laptop, write my C++ code-I hate Visual C++, I decide. Java is just so much sweeter. But it's due Friday, and I have to work till 9 tomorrow night, and I have to get the 'Stang running this weekend...Jesus.

I'm on my writing assignment when I hear a knock at my door.

"Not now!" I shout out. "I'm busy!"

He opens the door anyway. Christ, I not only have no life, but no privacy, either.

"I just wanted to tell you...I'm sorry."

And he's out the door almost as soon as he came in.

"Hey, get back here!" I yell. "You came in, now talk to me!"

He actually turns around and comes back. I notice he's got a couple fingers of J&B working.

Oh boy.

"Michael. I'm not trying to treat you like a child."

"Uh-huh."

"But you live here with me, and I do worry, and you owe me the courtesy of a phone call."

"Yeah, well, I think it works both ways."

"Agreed."

Hello? Did I hear this right? He isn't trying to assert his I'm right and you're not over me?

This is really getting weird.

"Then I'd appreciate it if you didn't bag on me in front of the guys, either. I get enough crap from them without you giving them ammo to attack."

"I don't think they give you any crap," he observes. "I think they try very hard to include you. Let's face it Michael, sometimes you make it very difficult."

Okay, he's right...I'm not the easiest guy in the world to deal with.

Then again, he isn't, either.

"You talk to Langly?" I ask him.

"Not too much. He seemed pretty upset tonight. I guess they'll see if he's compatible with his sister tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, he's pretty weirded out about it."

"Well, it's his sister."

"Yeah." Don't go there, Dad.

"And he's got an even chance of losing her."

"So he says. Says even if he matches, she might have to have a lot of treatments done."

"Maybe you should try to get in touch with your sister before something terrible might happen with her."

"And maybe you should try to get in touch with your DAUGHTER!" I shoot back.

He looks ashamed. "I've written her several times. I've not received a response yet. I hope she will eventually get in touch with me."

"Yeah."

"I think you have a better shot at reconciling with her. I don't think the...damage you inflicted was as drastic."

"How the fuck would you know? You weren't around!"

"No, I wasn't, and it wasn't my choice! Michael, I would have always been there...no matter what things were like between your mother and me. Had I been able to, I would have been there." He looks bleak, miserable, hopeless.

Oh Christ. I have a real bad time when he gets like this. I don't need him going off like this.

"So what'd you and Mom talk about when she came down?" I ask him. I am curious.

"When you were sick, and she came to visit?"

"No, Dad, when you met her on a street corner! Yeah, when she came down."

He takes another swallow of J&B. "There's a lot of bitterness there...but I think she knows I love you kids...and I think she knows she was wrong in not letting me be there with you."

"I doubt that. Mom never admits when she's wrong, because she thinks she never is!"

He shakes his head. "She might not admit it. But I think she knows it. Even she admitted that marriages may end, but children are forever."

This is about as close to guilt as my mom would ever acknowledge. And I'm shocked she'd even admit that.

"You talked to her since then?" I ask.

Shakes his head again. "No. But I told her if she needs anything...she can ask."

"So is this your plan to make things right with her?"

"I can't make things right with her. Nor she with me. All we can do is forgive one another, move on. And take care of you kids."

"I don't think Les needs anybody taking care of her. She's always been like so perfect and she takes care of herself. She's not like me." Count yourself lucky there, Dad.

"I don't know what Leslie needs. But I need my daughter. I hope I can come to some sort of understanding with her."

"Why do you need her?"

"Because she's my daughter. Just as you're my son. And I need you both."

"What, you afraid Social Security's not gonna be around?"

That makes him smile a little. "No, not that, although I don't think it will be. No. I don't think I can explain this...once you have kids, the switch gets turned on, and there's no way to turn it off. I think Allison understands this well. She has a child, and that child will forever be so intrinsic to her very being...and even though Miranda is not biologically his, I think Langly's begun to form one of those sorts of attachments to her. It won't be the same as with her biological dad, but it's there...but once you have the connection...you'll see someday."

Oh God. There's no way I could ever take care of kids. Is there?

"But don't have them now. Please. My ulcer is killing me already."

I laugh at that one. "Well, Dad, I think you have to do the deed if you want results."

He looks sort of relieved. "Good. You're taking it slow."

Not by my choice, old man.

But hey, I'm not gonna press Kelly about it.

"Uh, Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I really gotta get some work done. And you know, if you got an ulcer, you shouldn't be drinking that stuff."

He laughs. "What, the water of life? I think I'll mush it down with some milk and crackers later, anyway."

He closes the door.

I think he'll be okay.

But I better check on him before I go to bed.
 

ALLY:

January 17, 2001

I tagged in with Kelly and Michael this morning to school-I'm not going to make it to work, but there's no way I can miss any more classes. Particularly in physics. I have a quiz this morning, and I'm not terribly hopeful. Even with Langly's run-through last night, I'm nervous about this.

Among other things.

But the quiz goes okay. I don't think I did too poorly on it.

The problem is, okay will not cut it here. I need a 90 or better upon completion of the class, or I can kiss my conditional acceptance goodbye.

And I can't do that.

I don't care how much money I have. I need to feel useful. I need to get out of the house and away from the soap operas that fill up our lives, get a sense of perspective.

And that money could be gone tomorrow.

Actually, I'd like some of it to be gone tomorrow. Langly better get himself a damn car pretty soon. Preferably one that runs.

It seems silly to be so territorial about one's vehicle-I mean, it's just metal and plastic-but not having my own-or at least the illusion of having my own-is making me nuts. I hate having to depend on everybody else for transport, on their schedules, their needs.

In the rest of my life, I can deal with that. But not with my car.

I'm on the curb at noon, in the area I designated for Langly to meet me. He's supposed to be here. And, as usual, he's late.

I'm a California girl and I shouldn't get annoyed at this, but I'm punctual. And I think everyone should be.

Particularly when they're doing something where another's life might hang in the balance.

He finally shows up, twelve minutes late. Not that this is so terrible, but he's got paperwork and shit to do before he gets tested, and I get the feeling Dr. Walker is not terribly patient with latecomers.

"Sorry. Getting out of DC was a bitch," he tells me, knowing that the first thing I'll do is chide him for his lateness.

"Babe, getting out of DC is ALWAYS a bitch. You need to plan better."

"Hey, Ally? Not today? Okay?"

He looks pretty anxious. I concede.

"Okay. I'll lay off. You all right?"

"Me? Never better."

"Liar."

"Okay, you got me."

I squeeze his hand. It's trembling a little.

"Want me to drive?"

"Nah. I'd like to get there in one piece."

"What, just because you don't think brakes are optional?" I tease him. I've gotten plenty of kidding about Mario Langly, race car driver, graduate of the we-don't-need-no-brakes school of driving.

Hey, I grew up on the west coast. Shoot me.
 

It's time.

"You okay with this?" He asks me. He's really looking tense now.

"I'm fine." Not that it matters whether I am or not. I agreed to it.

And if he wants me there, I'll be there.

Still, this looks a bit gruesome.

He's smocked from the waist up, but it gets pulled down, swabbed with Betadine, and then with topical, which he says is freezing.

"And yellow is definitely not your color," I add.

Dr. Walker says she opted for a sternal puncture this time, adding that if he's a match, she'll probably take it from the hip.

"But should that happen, you'll be out for it."

"Thank you." Langly closes his eyes.

"Ms. Langly, you can hold one shoulder-it's important you don't move, sir," Dr. Walker instructs him.

"So they said last time."

"So you know what this is about. Close your eyes."

"Don't need to tell me twice this time."

"Ah, you opened them the last time. I bet you were sorry you did that."

"Let's just say it freaked me out real good."

"Well, you're a veteran now. Ms. Langly? You might not want to watch. Just keep your hand on his shoulder."

If I close my eyes, though, I'll lose my orientation, so I don't.

Wish I had.

It looks like he's getting stabbed right in the heart. I can feel my knees becoming a bit wobbly.

I can't faint right now. Stay calm, girl.

The pierce makes him wince, but once they start extracting, it looks like that's when it really starts to hurt. It's definitely a teeth-gritting, tears squeezing out of your eyes experience.

But he's cool about it. When it's finally withdrawn-that minute felt more like a day-he's pale and a bit shaken, but he still smiles at me.

He's got to hang for a couple hours, make sure he's okay. But Walker says we can stay together in recovery.

"You guys did great. Good thing she has you for family. Her children-well, if those were my kids, I'd smack them upside the head," Walker comments. "They seem a lot more concerned with their own problems than in doing the work to get their mother well. And I don't have time for that. The culturing and analysis takes about 36 hours. We'll try to have an answer
for you on Saturday. And if it's a match, I'd like to get moving on it immediately. You know she's not in good shape."

"Can I go see her?" Langly whines.

"Two hours. Then you do whatever you damn well please. However, my advice would be to get some rest. We've got a long way to go."
 

"Sheridan wasn't there today. Again."

"You call him?"

"Tried to. No answer at his place. Makes me wonder."

"Maybe he's out of town."

"Hasn't answered my e-mails. And Sheridan stays plugged in even when he's in the Bahamas."

"You want to go to his place when we're out of here?"

He closes his eyes. "I should. But tell the truth, I'm so damn tired."

"Took a lot out of you."

"Yeah. And much as I don't wanna go through this again, I hope there's more to do, because it means Joanie'll be okay."

Maybe. But now is not the time to say that.

"Hey, at least you get to be out of it if they can take it to the next level."

He smiles a little. "Yeah. Painkillers. I can do painkillers."

At that moment, an intern walks in and writes something up and hands it to me. "Pharmacy is on the third floor. You can get this filled." He strolls off.

"Hey, babe, you got your wish. Tylenol #4's."

He looks disappointed. "What, no Demerol?"

And we both laugh.
 

We stop by to check on Joan. Julie is there, looking positively maudlin. Joan's asleep.

"She's not doing well." Julie whispers this sadly. "How'd it go, Uncle?"

Langly still looks a bit shaky, but he has been plied with Tylenol #4's. "Okay."

"Hope it works," she looks at him desperately.

"Me, too. Hey, since she's sleeping, you don't mind if we bail out? I'm kinda tired."

"Yeah, go. I'll tell her you were here. How're you doing, Ally?"

"Fine." Actually, I have no idea how I'm doing at this point, but the general purpose answer will work here. "I can come back later and spell you if you want."

She shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. I didn't come in till 11 today. I was so exhausted, I couldn't get up. And some of her teacher friends are coming by after work, so it's cool. I like her school friends. And she's got some stuff from her kids. They all miss her."

"Bet she misses them," Langly adds.

"Does she ever," Julie concurs. "She worries more about them than herself. Mom's a really good teacher. I haven't seen her in a long time do it, but I bet she hasn't lost her touch. These kids really need her to get well."

"They're not the only ones," Langly says, a little groggily. I think the pills are kicking in.

"Anyway, Uncle Ringo, I think you did your part today. Go home and kick back. Take good care of him, Ally."

"She always does," he smiles. "Long as I don't let her drive."
 

We make it to the parking lot, and Langly looks like he's about ready to doze off. "Sorry. You may not like my driving, but at least I won't fall asleep on the bridge."

He hands me the keys without a word, and he's out for the count before we even get out of the structure.
 

MICHAEL:

Christ, Thursday goes on forever.

I don't get off work till nine. Least I got my homework done last night-at 1:30.

I'm beat.

But I really want to see Kelly, and anyway, I have one more short piece I want to put in for TMB. Langly's sort of slacking right now-I mean, he's got a good excuse, but we got to publish in two days, or the natives get restless.

It's real windy tonight, and cold. I hate this weather. It still makes my lungs hurt. And being this tired, the walk up the hill sucks.

I go to the house first. Ally's studying in the kitchen and punching away at her laptop. I ask her where the dude is, and she says, asleep on the sofa. She says he did real good, but he's happily zoned out on painkillers right now.

Kelly's studying, as always. I really want to hang with her, but we've both got tons to do. I do get one of those amazing kisses, though. And tonight, it lasts a real long time.

I may just have to break into the video collection tonight.

Nah.
 

It's just Dad and me out in the offices when I get there. He asks me how I am, I say I'm gonna finish my last piece, then can I go home with him? He says sure, he'll wait, he's almost done.

I'm typing away as fast as my stubby fingers will take me-I don't feeling like being here all night, thank you very much-when my dad finally breaks the news to me.

"Leslie's thinking about coming down for a visit soon."

"You're kidding." Is this my sister he's talking about?

"No, I'm not. She thinks it would be beneficial for her experience as a counselor."

That sounds like Leslie.

"Well, she's certainly got good raw material to work with. The dysfunctional Frohikes." I really need to get this work done, and I don't feel like talking about Leslie.

"Well, dysfunctional, but at least then, we'd be something of a family. Like you and I are now."

I stare over at him-my workstation is next to Langly's, not his, so I can keep an eye on him-and he looks kind of happy.

"I don't care what her reasons are for coming. Just so that she does."

You might change your mind, Dad, but hey, if that's what makes you happy...

END OF PART 53