Felices Ter et Amplius, Quos Inrupta Tenet Copula Nec Malis, Divulsis
Querimoniis Suprema Citius Solvet Amor Die

BYERS:

June 19, 2001

I need some sleep.

I spent the night in the 'comfortable' chair, which is a total misnomer-although I suspect it was a superior experience to having been in the less comfortable one. I was given a blanket, which helped me to stay warm, but did nothing to enhance the sensation of attempting to sleep in a hard, poorly built, vinyl-covered recliner. Not that I'd want to check out the alternative for comparison purposes-I'll leave bad enough alone here.

To my relief, however, Juliet slept fairly well, and when I blinked at the light of day, her eyes were open, and she was staring at me. I'd like to think the smile wasn't strictly due to narcotic-induced haze. I'd even settle for amusement. I'm sure by now I look a fright.

I kiss her very gently, careful not to disconnect any of the lines attached to her in God knows how many places.

Her head is bandaged, her lips still cracked and bloody, and the blood has pooled beneath her eyes, giving her the appearance of an injured, slightly dazed raccoon.

She is the most beautiful creature in the entire universe.

I, on the other hand, have my shirt tails hanging out and I'm sure my hair is going everywhere. I managed a shower yesterday, but the beard is most likely hopelessly in need of trimming.

Why am I worrying about these details? This is so typical of me.

We have to tell her. I offered to tell her myself, but Caroline said no, it wasn't up to me to do this alone. She and I agreed that we would do it together, along with Juliet's brother.

I should feel better, knowing that there is moral and physical support right beside me, but the prospect is still terrifying. The knot that I've carried in my guts since Friday night has given birth to numerous new knots.

At any second now, I expect to reenact the scene from 'Alien,' which I am certain that for most of the moviegoing population needs no elaboration.

"John." Her voice is still drowsy and hoarse, but the tenderness is undisguised. Exhaustion, gratitude, misery, and thousands of other emotions that in spite of my extensive education I can barely name, have begun to attack me at the most visceral of levels, and I find myself wiping my eyes.

"I...love you," I tell her. That phrase seems so small compared to what I feel for her...and yet, it's still so difficult for me to say it.

Her one good hand clasps mine, very lightly. It's the hand with her engagement ring ensconced upon it.

"John...do you know when my dad is coming?"

The millions of alien knots now crawling about my internal organs are ready to burst.

I can't tell her. Not yet. Caroline and I agreed.

I gulp horribly as I say, "Let me get your mom for you."

She isn't fooled for a moment. "John, is something wrong? My dad...he always comes for me..."

I squeeze her hand lightly. "I'll be back shortly."

I am such a coward.
 

LANGLY:

"Are you awake?"

I got to be dreaming. I'm being called by this little kid voice demanding to know if I'm awake...

No dream. Sorry.

"No," I tell the voice.

"Then how come you answered me? My daddy says if you answer you're not sleeping!"

I open one eye halfway-I'm myopic as hell, but I can tell who the alien visitor is.

It's my charming nephew. I think he's my nephew. The more I'm around him, the more I'm convinced...

Particularly after Ally shot this Polaroid last night. She took one of Patrick tearing apart one of the remotes (we're down on remotes now), and compared it to one of me taking a radio apart when I'm about the same age...

The similarity is creepy.

"Patrick, go back to bed."

"Don't wanna!"

"Yeah, well, guess what? I don't wanna get up!"

"I'm up!"

Like we couldn't tell?

Ally opens her eyes a little bit. "Patrick, it's not even 6:00," she squints at the alarm clock, which hasn't gone off yet.

"But I'm awake!"

"We noticed," I snarl at him.

Ally sits up slowly. "S'okay. I'll get him something to eat."

"Shouldn't you stay in bed?"

"Langly, all I've done for four months is stay in bed...or on the sofa...I've had enough." She's wearing one of my T-shirts, which is huge on her. Even without my glasses, she looks so cute...

And so tired. She really oughta take it easy.

"Maybe you oughta get 'Randa to watch him."

She shoots me this look that could cut glass. "You really don't want this child to be alive when you get home, do you?"

Don't make me answer that.

She doesn't, fortunately, and tells the little guy to come on, they'll have some Cocoa Puffs.

For once in my life, I'm glad it's Monday...and I have to go to work.
 

I feel sort of guilty when I come out of the shower and find Ally at the table with a kid who is way more lively than anybody should be at this hour. She looks beat already.

"You oughta call Junior. He's good with kids."

"Maybe." She's nursing her coffee, and I bet she went to real caffeine again. She's also sucking on a cigarette, which she shouldn't do around the kid...

Didn't take her long to get back to THAT.

"You gonna be okay with him?"

"Uncle George, let's play Legos!" He jumps up and grabs my hand, and in spite of the fact that he's way smaller, he's got a strong grip, and I'm so fucking tired...

Yeah, I feel guilty.

But not guilty enough to call in sick.
 

FROHIKE:

I'm torn. I should be with Byers at this time...but I need to attend to the magazine, and Luanne Russell has left me a message...now that Juliet is laid up, she needs some assistance...and she's requested mine.

I debate this. The money is always welcome, of course, particularly in view of the fact that Michael will not be able to attend junior college forever. Not if he is going to have any kind of future, that is.

And he will. Or else.

I appease my conscience by deciding to let Byers know that any time he needs me, he can reach me...and I will be there. But there is work to be done, and Byers, if anyone, can appreciate that.

I gently crack Michael's door. He is, of course, sound asleep, the corner of his pillow stuffed in his mouth, snoring lightly, one leg sticking out askew from the blanket. He looks peaceful, content. Silky brown hair flies everywhere, long eyelashes brush his cheeks.

My little boy. He makes my heart swell.

However, as darling as he looks at this moment, I'm going to have to be the one to break it up; he's got a class, and then plenty of work to do.

I've made my decision regarding Ms. Russell...let's see what she has in mind.
 

LANGLY:

Is this weird or what?

I mean, in my life, I've been in some real bizarre situations. Okay, so we can credit Mulder with getting us into a lot of them, but we were there, and it was beyond strange. We had enough moments where we were thinking, like, are we gonna get out of here in one piece? Preferably still breathing?

And I was plenty scared every time. I been scared lots of times in my life. When I got caught hacking. When I got sentenced. When we almost bought it from CSM. When we got stuck on that weird ghost ship in the Bermuda Triangle. When we had to break Scully out of that creepy hospital in Pennsylvania. When we found out Scully was dying, which, thankfully, she didn't do. When Ally got sick. When I had to walk to the altar on my wedding day. When we lost our baby. When my sister died...

Thinking about Joanie, makes me feel horrible. I miss her so bad, and I still haven't touched the stuff she wanted me to look at. I feel like shit, but then again, I been a little busy lately.

I gotta do that. I promised her, and I will do it.

I promised a lot of people lots of things. Like I promised I'd figure out what the fuck happened to Sheridan. It's like, I didn't even pay attention to that lately. And I owe him. I mean, I knew he was a cool boss even when I had him...and now that he's gone, and I've got this primal asshole for one, I appreciate him even more.

We still haven't figured out what happened to Lydia, Ally's sister in law. Or is that ex-sister in law? Haven't got a clue. All the relationships, they're so complicated. Most complicated is my one with Ally. I mean, it's like, we've got this big sadness over us, and it's like we have no time to even sit there and cry about it. Which I know, if I get started on the brews, is gonna happen for me. Ally, I don't know. She's like, she's gonna probably stay cool.

Wish she wouldn't sometimes. I mean, like when she was pregnant, she was kind of clingy and all, but it was like she really needed me. Sometimes I wonder how much she really needs me.

And Scott...I mean, I don't wanna believe it, but I do...he's my brother. I mean, we're still gonna test the kid, see what the DNA really looks like...but I mean, how could he look like me, sound like me, and have a kid that looks just like me if he's not related to me. Wish he'd named the kid something else, though. Always hated the name Patrick.

Well, could be worse. Could've been George or Ringo.

And Scott wants us to take his kid when he's gone...which from the looks of stuff, looks like real soon.

Christ. The kid is hell on wheels.

And nothing I mentioned above scares me half as much as the idea that I'm probably gonna end up being responsible for him. So long as Ally agrees, I mean, we really can't say no. And I don't think Ally'll say no. She loves kids, and even if this kid is a total brat, she'll probably love him anyway.

Hell, she loves me...that's hard enough.

Swear that that woman must thrive on aggravation.

Mostly it's making me lose my hair even more...and that, by the way, is about as scary as it gets.
 

MICHAEL:

I got wayyyy too much to do today...and it's hotter than hell already. Looks like we're gonna have one of those hot, drippy days you get in northern Virginia in the summertime. This is my second summertime, and the last one was like so damp you squidged.

Hate to say it, but without AC, it's gonna be too hot to fuck.

The prof's apartment has AC...hmm.

Maybe later Kelly can over with me and we can enjoy the AC in all kinds of ways.

I'd really like to go swimming today, too, I know I got a ton of shit to do, like class and tutoring and stuff on the magazine and all that, but I'd like to get in some water time. Maybe after work Kelly'll go with me. And then I can look at her in her swimsuit, and that by itself would make my day.

Dad says he's gonna go do some work for Ms. Russell, which means he's gonna be busy, which means I'm really gonna have to pull my weight double on the
magazine. And I have to. I'm still sort of on probation, if you will, so I can't fuck up.

Maybe now that Langly's not gonna be a daddy, he'll have more time to help...he's probably real bummed, but hey, we got stuff to get done. And maybe even Ally can help, unless she's going back to work real soon, which she probably is.

I decide, that's it, I don't care how insane it gets, I need some swim time. And I'm gonna get it, one way or another, today.

I gotta remember to ask Ally about putting in a pool.
 

BYERS:

Caroline, Caliban, and myself are all ready now. Well, as ready as we're ever going to be, in view of the subject matter.

Under the laws established by the state of Maryland, Jeffrey Parker is brain dead. Granted, he is a citizen of the state of Ohio, but there appears to be some commonality in the guidelines.

And Maryland will be the site of his death. And contrary to Catholic teaching, it's Jeffrey Parker's wish to be cremated as opposed to being buried in consecrated ground. The location will not matter. Caroline will scatter his ashes in their backyard in Ohio, where their dogs and cats are buried, which is in accordance with his wishes. I was somewhat surprised by this. As a medieval scholar, I expected him to choose something far more esoteric...but he remained an uncommonly common man all his life, particularly for an academic.

I barely know Jeffrey Parker, and I will miss him terribly. I will miss his gently paternal treatment combined with respect and tenderness.

My loss, however, will be minimal compared to Juliet's. She is deeply attached to her father. This will be a bitter blow for her; I'm praying it doesn't interfere with her recovery, which is already looking to be long and difficult.

I will be there for her in every way I can. For everything.

It's part of what makes marriage so difficult. I've been married before. And I know that it's a hard happiness.

I've heard marriage described in many different ways, but one adjective I've never heard applied to it is 'easy.' There is a reason for that.

She's dozing lightly when we all come in, but our soft footfalls seem to be sufficient to wake her. She smiles with delight upon seeing all of us together, but then wrinkles her brow in confusion.

"Where's Dad?" She asks quietly.

Caroline, Caliban and I all look at each other.

"We need to talk to you about that," Caroline says tenderly, and I step forward to take her hand.

Juliet looks puzzled-and frightened. I tighten my grip around her fingers. Her normally perfect, slender fingers are bruised and puffy. She feels fragile beneath me.

"Dad was here," her mom begins slowly. "He came with me. He and John were going to get something to eat Saturday lunchtime...and he suffered a major stroke."

Juliet blinks at her mother with dim, disbelieving eyes. "No. Not Dad."

"Yes, honey, I'm so sorry." Caroline's eyes begin to leak. "We didn't want to tell you until it was necessary-"

"I want my daddy!" Juliet bursts into uncharacteristic sobs-she is normally a well-controlled woman, collected, mature, and sensible.

Of course, normally she is not suffering from major injuries and strung out on opiates...and her father normally does not hover near death, I remind myself sharply.

"Honey, I'm so sorry..." her mom is at a loss as she gently pats her daughter's purpled and swollen cheek. I take her in my arms, sitting on the bed next to her, and she buries her face in my leg. I very much doubt at this point she'll care that my shirt tails are untucked. Caliban pats her arm softly, looking equally teary-eyed and miserable.

"I want my daddy! I want my daddy!" Juliet's voice has cracked, and her crying intensifies.

Oh God. Why here? Why now?

And people wonder why I am an atheist.
 

Juliet's monitors go off the wall. We get the attention of all the floor nurses that are to attend to her, and receive looks of strong reproach, until I explain the matter regarding her father. Then there is some recognition of her agony, and an offer of additional sedatives, which Juliet refuses.

The only thing we can do is allow her to cry herself out. Caroline and Caliban have already had the opportunity to indulge in this exercise. But Juliet has been unaware of these brutal circumstances, and in a way, it seems only right that she be permitted to express her anguish.

The four of us are together for a long time, just cuddling and caressing Juliet, trying to bring her to the place where we are. Eventually, her tears give out, and she is dry-eyed and drained.

Caroline begins to deliver the second blow. Gently, but I don't think there would be any way to soften the effect.

"Dad...is on life support. He is legally brain dead," Caroline begins softly.

This brings more tears from Juliet, and I just massage her shoulder tenderly, trying to make her feel a little less horribly alone in this.

"He doesn't want that," Caliban's voice splits down the middle as he utters one of the few sentences he's delivered in the time he's been here. Caliban is not a talker, and strangely enough, this makes me feel at ease with him.

"I know," Juliet chokes out. She's been crying so hard that she is hiccuping and shuddering. Oh Christ, please don't make her go downhill...please let her still get well...please...

"But we didn't want to do anything without giving you the chance to say something about the matter," her mom adds.

I have a strange thought in the midst of all this. In the middle of this most depressing discussion, about the most agonizing of circumstances...

My thought is that I am incredibly lucky. I have been enveloped into this caring, affectionate family with open arms. A fate I thought I would never experience.

I only met Susanne's family once. They were courteous enough, although they seemed to eye me with suspicion, and none of the warmth that the Parkers extend so easily to me was ever present in their behavior towards me.

Here, I not only have a woman I love, but a family that knows the meaning of the word.

How horribly unfair that fates like this should befall them.
 

Juliet agrees that her father's wishes should be honored. She cannot be moved at this time, and she cannot be present when the priest delivers last rites and he is removed from life support.

I will go in her place. I promise her I will say goodbye for her. Not that he would not know that his daughter would be there in any way she could. He will somehow know that she is with him, and my promise to her is a superfluous gesture, at least to me. But she accepts it.

Caroline, Caliban and I stand near Jeffrey as life support is withdrawn. The priest delivers the prayers to him, and I hear Caroline murmuring them with him. She is embracing her husband as he shudders with his dying breath.

It is over quickly, and yet it still feels like an eternity. Caroline clings to the man who has been everything in the world to her-her partner, her lover, her friend, her companion, her professional confidante, the father of her chidren...

May I be able to be all those things to Juliet, and more.
 

Caliban says he will go be with Juliet for a while, and maybe I should get out and get a bit of air.

Only when I step outside into the warm summer light do I realize that my face is damp with tears, and in spite of the sultry Baltimore heat, I am
shivering.

What time is it?

I look at the angle of the sun, and realize it is almost twilight. So many hours have passed...and I have no sense of how much time has elapsed.

My knees are gelatinous, and my hands shake.

I come to one conclusion.

I need a drink.

Badly.

END OF PART 46