Segnius Homines Bona Quam Mala Sentire
 
 

MICHAEL:

We barely get in the door, and Kelly's got her arms around me, real tight...and me around her. We're sucking on each other's mouths like we're doing artificial respirations or something.

It takes me, oh, maybe ten-fifteen seconds to get hard. With Kelly, getting hard isn't the problem...staying that way long enough is. She drives me nuts. I could shoot right now...

But I won't. We have this wonderful apartment with a great bed, and plus, when I was at Ally and Langly's, I found something in their bedroom...it was a cassette tape labeled 'the sex tapes vol. 1'. I put it on out in the offices when I was alone, thinking they might be recording themselves doing the nasty...in which case I probably would have been sorry I did it, but it's a collection of what turned out to be real cool music, apparently the stuff they do the deed to. And it's a nice collection...hell, I found myself, this afternoon, in 90-plus weather, between thinking about Kelly and playing the tape...I was getting horny as hell...

And now, I'm still horny as hell. Even more, now that I can actually taste her mouth and touch her skin. I can feel her nipples get hard through her T-shirt and her bra. I'm glad she wears the thin ones, not the padded ones. That way I can always feel her.

And right now, can I ever. She presses herself into me, I can feel her belly against my groin...it's delicious.

I pull my T-shirt off. The feel of her against my chest is incredible. My heart's beating so fast, I could explode. I can feel all the blood rush away from my head and into my belly...

She kisses my shoulders, which I love-her lips are so damn soft on my skin. I feel her move up to my neck and attach herself to me...oh Christ...don't make me come now...fortunately, she stops in time...in time for me to pull her shirt over her head and unhook her bra. Front hooks. Easier to work with. It falls away, and reveals her two gorgeous tits...swelling up like crazy, nipples turning from pinky beige to raspberry. When I run my thumb on the underside of her left tit, I can feel her heart. It's beating fast and hard. We've managed somehow to move away from the doorway and into the hall, naked from the waist up, just a tangle of mouths and hands and hair. The skin on her back is soft, like a baby's...and her hair is real fine and flossy. We both got that kind of hair...if we ever have kids, we know what it'll be like...

Just so long as they look like her. That's all I ask. Fortunately, the prof has plenty of supplies, so we don't have to worry about that right now...

More kisses. Long, slow, deep ones. Her tongue probes my mouth, and I search hers-when we touch like this, I can feel myself lapsing into those little moans that I get just before I'm about to scream...fortunately, she's learned enough about me to pull back a little, so we can enjoy it longer.

Somehow, we keep moving, and we're in the doorway of the bedroom. Time to shed some lower clothes. I pull at the buttons of her jeans, and they're tight, so she has to help me work them off, and she sort of blushes when she does this...she has the most gorgeous ass in the world. Plump and shaped like two melons.

I could eat it up, and I will.

I run my thumb from her belly button to her pubic hair...she's got this amazing little round belly that drives me insane. She's shuddering when I do this...I'm always amazed that my touch can do this to her...me, Michael Frohike, world class fuck up and idiot, can please a pretty girl...

I just about lose it again when she unfastens me. Her hands run over my cock, and they're soft and gentle, and I'm so hard now I'll burst...

We're naked, and pressed hard against one another, and we fall gently into the prof and Juliet's bed...it's sooo great. Goosedown comforters-I have one, it was a Christmas gift from Ally and Langly, but not like this one. The cotton cover feels like silk almost. Between the softness of Kelly and the featheriness off the covers, I am drowning in this world of comfort and joy...

Her hands travel down my back, over my ass, pulling me closer and closer to her. I slip down until my mouth is level with her tits, and I touch my lips to one rock-hard nipple, making her cry out a little.

That's a sound I want to hear again. I repeat the gesture on her other tit, and once again, she gasps.

"How about some music?" She whispers to me, her breath is real raggedy.

That's true. We have sound effects...and the prof and Juliet have a portable stereo in here. Within reach, even. I do have to dig the tape out of my pockets, but that doesn't take long...and makes me realize, I've got more time now to enjoy it.

Tape opens up with Jeff Beck's "Since We've Ended Up as Lovers", and it's a slow, jazz-based piece, and it's a perfect way to slow down and hang in the moment. This is a chance to do lots of kissing, everywhere, lots of cuddling. I feel so warm and so safe and so happy.

God, I am lost in this girl. Her body consumes me. I want to be devoured.

Joe Satriani's 'Heaven' is playing somewhere about a million miles away...and I'm there, with Kelly, all wrapped around me. She moves her fingers down me, to a place where when she touches me, even real light, I just about scream. It's so intense. And great. She backs off for a while, so I can make it last, but then she starts again...I am her love slave. Totally.

There's a Gregorian chant on this tape...who'd have thought? I mean, Ally and Langly aren't even Catholic, and religious music on a tape to make love by???

It works. It's really sensual. I worship this girl. Every inch of her. I don't want to miss any of her. I place my mouth over her curls, flick my tongue in her. She is whimpering, don't stop...so I don't...

She comes. Once, twice.

I want to make her do it. Over and over and over.

I grasp her tit in my mouth, hard. She's like somewhere between pleasure and pain, she looks so intense. I can feel her move under me...oh Christ. Is this what an earthquake feels like?

No way. Couldn't ever feel this good.

God, I love her.

"Talk to the Angels" is playing. It's a Silencers song, one of Ally's favorites...and now one of mine. It's like I can use it for a reference point for this moment.

Kelly says she wants me. Now.

We don't even debate the condom question. We just grab the first one in the drawer, and having her slip it over me...oh God...

Slide into her. This isn't like before. She's so wet, so slippery, and it's like, her legs are wide open for me, she welcomes me in, cries out real small when I'm there...

OH GOD.

I can't help it, I can barely talk, but I say her name over and over and over, and her body and soul push me towards where it has to happen...it's dizzyingly powerful. We're screaming and sweating and crying out and hanging to each other, immersed in each other...her face is so beautiful when she comes, with her lips parted and her eyes wide open, looking right into mine...she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen...

And everything is full of light. I don't even know what I see or feel or think right now. It's just being soaked in light. Pressure in my chest and my belly is so fierce...

I feel myself dissolve.

We need to catch our breath. When breathing is slow and steady again, we're locked in each other's arms, listening to 'My Love is Like a Wave.'

My love is like a wave out in the sea...For me, love is like water, soothing, endless, primal.

We fall asleep buried in each other, drowning in bliss.
 

FROHIKE:

June 22, 2001

Six a.m.

It feels strange to wake up with no one else in the house. I've grown so accustomed to Michael being here, or Byers, as of late, that it seems bizarre to not have to vie for the bathroom with anyone.

Maybe I'll even shave today. I can't use lack of time as an excuse.

I should be luxuriating in the privacy, in having the shower to myself, in not having to make certain that Michael is up and ready to face the day...

I hate it.

What's wrong with me that I can't enjoy a few moments to myself? God knows I need them. And today in particular. Juliet is having surgery at 10; I need to stop by Ms. Russell's office and then head up to Baltimore. No way will I force Byers to endure this alone. When I spoke with him last night, he said that if I was busy, I didn't have to be there...

Bullshit. I know need in a voice when I hear it. And his was quavering. I know that Mulder and Scully went up there last night; I know that they can be extremely helpful in these situations. And I'm sure they were. Scully could probably answer any medically related questions they may have had, and if she couldn't, she can find out. And Mulder? He may be the weirdest guy in the universe, but when you need an ear, and reassurance, no one's better. I don't know if it's his training as a psychologist or just natural inclination. Mulder can ignore every bureaucratic regulation in the world, overlook group-think like I've never seen anyone do, and traipse through life utterly clueless for the most part...but in the realm of the personal, he can be unparalleled.

And he and Byers have most assuredly had their ups and downs. There've been some arguments, and even a couple fistfights, but there's always mutual respect and affection. Mulder's taken him to the edge more times than he's comfortable with-and that goes for all of us-but they bring each other back as well. Mulder will always stretch you. And you'll hate him for it at the time, but you'll come back for more when you discover that he is loyal beyond comprehension.

I am grateful that after so many years, he and Scully finally recognized what it was that kept them together through everything. It seems to go beyond love and shared experience. They are bound.

This is not to say that it's a model relationship-no, anything but. He came to see me last night after visiting with Byers and Juliet, and when Scully and the girls were tucked in bed. Yes, it was nearing midnight. Which is early for Mulder. More than once have we been awakened in the middle of the night by him for whatever reason.

He still blames himself for all that has happened to Scully, and he's still a mishmash of guilty conscience. For her abduction, which has never been resolved to anyone's satisfaction. For her injuries. For the loss of her beloved sister. For her hearing loss. For the difficult pregnancies.

I pointed out to him that Scully is more than capable of making her own decisions, and she has seemingly made her peace with these horrific events, but he still can't let go of the guilt.

Perhaps the guilt serves a purpose. I think to offer Mulder total absolution would be dangerous.

Plus, I'd miss having all these wild middle-of-the-night conversations with him. And I'd miss that he still needs me, which, in my heart, I cherish still.

I do miss the downloads. When he and Scully consummated, they ended. There was no one else. I don't think there's even been a thought of anyone else. Not since then has Phoebe's name come up. Diana's has, but not in any personal context.

How do I reconcile this? I desperately need to be alone at times...and then, when I am, I can't wait until I hear someone, pleadingly, call out my name and demand my attention...

And with Michael, this is becoming less and less frequent. I know this is important. He has to get there, to be self-sufficient, to use his own judgment...and I'm proud of him...

But I miss my little boy. The moments when he still is one, where he'll come over and hug me for no reason whatsoever, when he calls out for me, needing some kind of succor, are fewer and fewer. And the embraces are no longer that of a child, but of someone offering in equal measure, which, for me, is a very strange experience.

He's trying so hard...and he has to...but sometimes...
 

I stop by Ms. Russell's office, and offer her a listing, as promised, of possible sites for her office. She is intent on getting out of her current location by the weekend. Fortunately, there are spaces available...unfortunately, not in the most appealing of locations.

But she doesn't care. She's looking to be as unobtrusive as possible...

I noticed in my search that our old digs in Southeast DC are still vacant. It'd be ironic and unlikely that she would choose the site, but I felt compelled to list it, if for no other reason than the anonymity of being in said neighborhood (if you can call it that-we could), and the fact that the rent is dirt cheap.

She says she's going to check some of these places out...can I make any recommendations?

I do mention to her our former chunk of real estate...she simply nods. I explain to her that it's unlikely that I will accomplish much today, as I'm headed for Baltimore, for Juliet's surgery-I observe her grimace at the mention of this. Ms. Russell is not unconvinced that Juliet's accident was in fact an accident. And she believes that she is in, at least part, responsible.

No answers on that one yet...but sadly, I suspect she is correct.

She promises she will visit Juliet tomorrow, which is just as well-she is likely to be strongly drugged and unaware today. It will be a long surgery.

I need to get my ass to Baltimore.
 

I could use Jo's company right now. She's working, and taking time off at the present is not really an option for her. She took a leave of absence during Joan's illness, and she's far behind in meeting most of her obligations, although she says that ever so slowly, she is catching up...when I phone her, just before heading off to meet with Byers and Juliet, she mentions that we need to do something normal and fun. We decide that come the weekend, we will indulge our taste for Chinese food. I cannot believe how much I look forward to a simple meal with a good friend, and how much sustenance just the thought provides me with.

I enter Juliet's room, where Byers, her mother, and her brother all talk quietly with her. She's had her first Valium, and you can see the faded expression in her eyes.

They all look like hell. Yesterday was the funeral for Jeffrey Parker; today, as his daughter undergoes surgery, he will be cremated. I did not attend, for which I felt vaguely guilty, but Caroline Parker assures me that this is how she wanted it-and how her husband would have had her do it. And she thanks me for the flowers.

Byers holds Juliet's hand as she is administered an amnesiac. You can see her levitate on the stuff. It produces a certain amount of giggling on her part, and while it may be induced, it seems to relax her fiance and family.

And she's gone. Caroline admits, rather sheepishly, that she is exhausted and needs to get out of the hospital for a while; she and her son will return to their hotel for a few hours, then return to see Juliet. I see no reason for her to apologize after what she's been through, and I consider her decision to leave the premises a prudent one.

And I'd like to encourage Byers to do the same.

I tap him lightly on the arm. "Let's take a walk."
 

BYERS:

Every time I go out in the sun lately, it's as if I crawled out from within a cave.

I've never been much of a sun worshipper-fair skin and freckles will do that to you-and now, when I approach it, I find that it stings my eyes, overwhelms me, mocks me.

And I don't have my sunglasses with me. They're a must with blue eyes, which are the most sensitive to light.

I live most of my life indoors. The last time I really enjoyed being outdoors was-well, many years ago, when we made a journey to Atlantic Beach, the three of us, Frohike, Langly, and me. I ended up getting dragged into the water by Langly, and it was February and freezing-but I remember the sunlight.

Frohike, as is per the norm, is not conversant. He doesn't press me to speak. He just keeps pace with me-his legs are much shorter, but for some reason, he manages a long stride-and keeps a watchful eye on the movement of everything around him.

But why did he have to wear that godawful hat from Kings Dominion?

Ah, another day where the sun was not my enemy-it was Langly's birthday two years ago, and we took Miranda with us. It was on that trip that Frohike purchased the dreadful yellow hat. The rest of us made a point of walking at least ten feet away from him after his acquisition of that monstrosity. His only comment was that at least he wouldn't be sunburnt, and he wasn't.

Not that he has to worry-he tans. Juliet tans as well-and she looks fantastic with one. We've gone to the shore for a couple of weekend trips, but as fate would have it, we never did make it outside during either trip.

I have this sudden, unexplainable urge to take her there again. Probably because it will be awhile before we do anything of the sort.

"You need to work some things out with Caroline," Frohike reminds me softly, out of nowhere, when he finally opens his mouth.

"Huh?"

"Such as, who will care for Juliet? Will she return to Ohio, or will she be staying in the area? Will she be staying with you? And by the way, in case you've forgotten, you two still have a wedding to plan-and I'm not offering my services this time, I'm sorry to say."

"Langly and Ally's wedding was a hell of an occasion." And it truly was.

"Yes, and it damn near killed me. And you and Juliet, I think, are somewhat more...discriminating, shall we say?"

I don't know...I personally thought the Elvis impersonators were great myself.

"You two haven't selected a date yet, have you?"

I shake my head...we hadn't gotten that far.

"I suggest that when Juliet is somewhat more recovered, you two pick one."

Why is he talking of all this to me? Juliet has a long way to go...and it's not going to be easy...

Then I realize, in his own way, he's saying the same things to me that Gizzie was saying the other night.

Don't wallow in it. There's a future out there.

"I need...to figure out what happened to Juliet. Why this occurred. I don't think it was an accident, Frohike."

He stops for a moment and contemplates me. "None of us do. And we will attend to that. But don't get caught up in that. Start planning for other things. Even when you're on a highway to hell, you still need to plan for some happiness."

Plan for some happiness. I never thought of it that way.

But it would make sense, I suppose.

Misery comes up and smacks you on the nose whenever it damn well chooses...why let happiness be equally opportunistic?

I have often wondered about this private little man...who is deeply serious about everything. Who has his own private brand of pain. How he not only keeps going, but sustains us all.

Perhaps, in spite of everything he has been through, he makes room in his world for happiness. I'm not sure what that is for him. But it's there...and I don't think he leaves it all to chance.

I've always respected Frohike. Today, I respect him just a little bit more.

And we stay out in the sun for a very long time.
 

LANGLY:

June 23, 2001

Thank God it's Friday. What a shitty week at work. I'm always getting yelled at by my fuckhead of a boss, but swear to God, he's got PMS this week. I haven't done a damn thing right, if you ask him. It took everything I had not to tell him to go ahead and fire my sorry white ass. I won't quit. I decided that long ago. But if he wants to axe me...

Then I'd probably challenge him, just to be a pain in the ass. Just to make his life even shittier than it probably already is.

What's weird is, I really like doing this kind of work...but I liked it so much better being there when Sheridan was around.

And I've started, little bit by little bit, trying to check out what happened with Sheridan.

It's really bizarre. It's as if he never existed.

Fortunately, Nathanson hasn't caught me in flagrante delicto on this one. I like that phrase. Ally taught it to me. She says it's got something to do with getting caught having sex with someone you shouldn't, that's the context, but she applies it to almost anything where you get caught with you r hands in the forbidden cookie jar.

And I've been getting adventurous. I do what Nathanson assigns me-mostly it's pretty easy. He screams at me 'cause I forget to initial stuff and I got sloppy handwriting-Christ, why would anyone have you do anything in your own handwriting, anyway?-and if he doesn't think I'm doing stuff in the order he wants it done, he gets pissed-like I can't tell what needs doing first. Like I can't tell what's important or something.

Maybe once upon a time I couldn't, but I'm not stupid, and I think I can figure it out. Plus, once I finish what he tells me-and I hold it on my desk longer than I need to, but still in plenty of time, usually, that he doesn't bitch TOO much, so that I can go out there and see what's up. Cyberly speaking, of course.

And what I'm seeing is, we got problems, and we're gonna have more of them.

Right wing has made it personal, and since we the public backed Clinton, they're gonna make sure we pay. And they've got the press nailed shut. It's like people don't know they don't know. This makes my skin crawl. I haven't even told Ally about it yet, but I have to, soon. She thinks I'm kind of extreme, but she'll listen up at least...that is, if she's got any energy left from taking care of Patrick. She got him in a nursery school. I'm still not happy about it, but I talked to Scott, and while he was sort of skeptical, he said, well, he's never been around other little kids, maybe he needs to be...I asked Scott when he wanted him back. Scott was like, he
wants him back now, but Krista's not there, and he's not feeling so hot. He asks me to come out and see him this weekend, and I tell him I will.

But in the meantime, I got other things to think about...good things, for a change.

Ally stopped bleeding.

I can't wait to get home.
 

Tonight, Miranda takes off with Jesse-Jesus fuck, the kid DRIVES now, which scares the hell out of me-I mean, I know how I drove at 16-and we hang with Patrick for a while.

How does that kid have so much energy? Christ. It's like having a thousand Energizer Bunnies in one small package.

Ally comments that she took him to nursery school for a few hours today, and his teacher made the same implication...we're probably gonna get charged double for having him there...

While it's not evident when we first get home, a few hours of battling other three- and four-year-olds seems to have sapped a little bit of Patrick's energy reserves-by 8:30, he's crawling in my lap and he's conked out before 9.

There's this little tiny half-room right off the dining room where we started stuffing him when he's finally asleep. And lucky for us, once he's out, he's really out. Live hard, sleep hard, that's this guy.

And he is cute. I got to admit. But exhausting...oh man.

Ally tells me she actually got a cheek swab from him today and took it to the lab...Scully agreed to run some DNA testing on him...and I have to go by there Monday so she can do the comparison study.

In the past, since this used to involve needles and blood, I would have cringed, but I think I can deal with having my mouth swabbed.

This unglamorous thought is interrupted by some mouth action on the part of the woman I love...she's got hers pressed gently against mine in a way that I haven't felt for months. We're standing in Patrick's little cube, but she's got her arms wrapped around my waist, her fingers under the back of my shirt, running along the small of my back, and she's kissing me...like she means it.

I mean, she always means it. And it's not like we haven't kissed in awhile. I mean, we kiss every day, at least once. But this...it's been so long...

It's electric, I swear. All my nerves light up.

God, I have missed this so much. I've missed her so much.

"Langly." I can hear her murmur my name a little.

"Mmm?"

"Take me to bed. Now."

I don't need to be asked twice.

END OF PART 49