Capitis Dolor
 

MICHAEL:

July 11, 2001

I've pretty much lost the last two days. Just as well. Whenever I had this glimmer of consciousness, it was mostly being conscious of how much pain I was in.

Kelly's right, I'm a big baby, and I don't give a fuck.

Besides, she babies me, and that's okay. She came over after work last night. I think we need to go over some stats stuff this weekend, but she's happy she's working again. She's also kind of nervous. Dr. Scully expects a lot. She's aware that Kelly's real new to stuff, but she's got work to do, too.

Dad's been sort of in and out, mostly out, he's busy. He checks in on me every now and then. It's cool. I don't need him breathing down my neck like he did when I had pneumonia, but it's sort of nice to know he worries a little.

Today, though, I can actually get up, and maybe my face isn't quite so gross.

I make the fatal mistake of checking the mirror.

I look worse than ever. Not just purple now. I'm still puffy, and there's this green and yellow mixed in with the purple.

Yep, I'm a real sex god.

And Christ, do I need a shave...which is not gonna happen for a few days. I don't mind passing on it, but when it's hot, I really don't like the facial hair thing.

And believe me, it's hot. Cold showers have taken on a whole new meaning to me.

I've been too out of it to be horny. And even I got to admit, it's too hot to fuck.

Air conditioning. That's the ticket.

Yeah, right. Sure. With our landlord. Uh-huh.

Dad could buy a window unit...but he'd probably hog it all for himself anyway. Age before beauty, he always says.

Yeah, I'm a real beauty right now.

Least if he had one in his room, when he was out, I could lie on his bed, and then maybe me and Kelly...

You were wrong, Frohike.

You're not too out of it to be horny.
 

I may be horny, but after doing such strenuous tasks as taking a shower and sipping some juice, I'm on the sofa, snoozing. Apparently the spirit is willing but the flesh can't get it up-literally.

Man, this just wiped me out. And the heat's not helping. Sort of weather where all you wanna do is go in the pool, or sit around and drink. Or sleep all day.

Even the prof's given up suits in this. That takes a lot. Like a vacation. Or just the weather to match a vacation in the tropics.

I'm dreaming about taking Kelly to Hawaii or someplace like that when I get rudely woken up by the phone. Why can't my dad set the rings lower? It's like they just scream at you when they go off. And of course they keep going off 'cause it's not like you could hope to find one here.

Dad and me may actually have to clean up this place someday. Before we get crushed under our own junk might be good.

I finally find one on the kitchen counter, which, by the way, is a major expedition for me right now. Tylenol 3's kill pain dead, true. They also make you feel like you are.

"Yeah?" I hope it's not Kelly, 'cause I sound pretty bitchy, even to myself. If this is a telemarketer, I'm going to fucking scream, even though I can't right now. I'll do a virtual scream.

"Frohike Junior, need your help." It's Mulder, I think...it sort of sounds like Mulder, just not a very lively one.

Mulder either doesn't know I had surgery or doesn't give a fuck, and the way he sounds, I don't think it matters.

"What's up?" I really want to just dive back on the sofa, thank you very much.

"Well...I need you to come watch the kids."

"Mulder, just had my teeth pulled out the other day."

"Look, just for a couple hours, okay? I've really...got a killer headache...I'll pay you."

"Your wife's a doctor, can't she give you some stuff?"

"She...really doesn't know about these things, and I don't want her to." He sounds like he's getting real impatient. I've heard about Mulder when he gets impatient, and he's apparently kind of badassed about it. "Look, I tried Ally, but she's working still today...please?"

Oh Christ. Last thing I wanna hear is Mulder beg. I mean, I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall when he's begging Dr. Scully...but anything else, I mean, that's just too pathetic.

"How much?"

"Name your price."

"200 bucks. I need a brake job, and I don't have time to do it myself."

"Done."

Dude is desperate.

"And do me one more favor, Junior?"

Oh Christ. NOW WHAT???

"Stop by Langly's...Ally probably has some meds I could use. I know she gets these puppies." He's just about gasping now. "Junior, I'd love to continue this little chat, but I'm about to throw up...just get here soon." He slams down the phone.

I didn't get to mention he could throw in new tires while he was at it.
 

I stop at Starbucks on the way for a triple vanilla mocha. I need some caffeine to counteract the codeine.

Nobody's at Chateau Langly when I get there. I kind of thought Dad and the prof might be, but they might be doing their day jobs right now. This bums me out, 'cause I was kind of hoping to palm this one off on Dad. I'm really beat.

I've been in the medicine cabinet of Chateau Langly before, so I know where it is...surprisingly, not much here. Alka-Seltzer, Advil, contact lens stuff...and a small gray box with a scrip label.

Says Imitrex Injectable. I check the expiration date. 3/2002. Okay, so it's got about 8 months left on it. For Allison Gerstein. This must've been prescribed to her before she got married.

Looks like Ally never used it. Seal's not even broken.

Says on her scrip label, for treatment of migraines.

Score.

I just hope tonight's not the night she decides she's gonna have a migraine, too.
 

At least this time of day the traffic's not too horrible. I hope the kids aren't either.

I like the Mulderettes a lot. They're so damn cute. They're also babies, and that makes them real demanding.

I'm not up for real demanding today.

Maybe they got a baby pool. I could take 'em in the water. They'd like that. Me too. Even if it's just getting my feet wet. I used to like my baby pool when I was little. My mom or dad would put me in it, I'd never wanna come out.

Hope the girls feel the same way.

I ring the bell, they've got one of those eight-note chime thingies, and they've also got these flashing lights so Dr. Scully knows when someone's there.

I'm not sure, but I think I hear this loud moan of pain escape from the house.

Mulder, or someone like him, comes to the door. He's got on this old pair of running shorts, a gray T-shirt that looks even rattier than some of mine, no shoes, and his hair's sticking up in about fifty directions.

He looks like shit. He's about the color of the grass outside...which is like so green and suburban. They must have a gardener. I don't think the Mulders do yard work.

"Here." I hand him the package from Ally and Langly's, he looks over it, I think I hear him say like, thank God or something, so I must've done okay.

"You got a pool for these kids?" I ask.

"Out back." He jerks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Junior, drown them, beat them, sell them into slavery, but don't bother me for at least two hours, or I will have to kill you."

This is Mulder? Whose daughters walk on water where he's concerned? Whose little angels can do no wrong in their daddy's eyes?

Whew. He IS having a bad day.

Becca, of course, is real happy to see me. She always is. "Micah! Micah!"

Sarah's still just a little baby, but she's like she sort of recognizes me now, seems to think I'm not going to boil her or anything, and after sort of whimpering at first when I take her from her dad, she settles down and gurgles at me.

I've got such a way with the young ladies.

"Daddy sick!" Becca announces.

"Yep." I take her hand while I carry Sarah so we can go off in search of some swimsuits.

"Don't like Daddy sick!" This is bugging her. I don't blame her. I'll bet he's just been Mr. Happy all day.

"Well, maybe we let your dad take a nap, he won't be sick anymore. Okay? You wanna go in the water?"

"Yeah!" I said the magic word. She lets go of me and charges up the steps. And I don't even have to scope out swimsuits for these kids, she knows where they are, and she's ready to rock and roll.

Diapers or not diapers?

I'm into precautionary measures myself. If I'm gonna share the water with these kids, it's diapers.
 

For a kid pool, not bad. Bigger than the one I used to have. And it's real clean. I bet Mulder filled it this morning, 'cause the water's nice and warm.

He was probably planning to spend the day hanging out with the kiddies here. He's got a sand chair parked in it.

Sarah's starting to crawl, and the water's not too deep, but I can't let her go too far and fall in or she'll get scared, so I have to kind of hang on to her. You couldn't hope to hang on to Becca. She's like the Tasmanian Devil in the water. I'm tired looking at her.

Then I remember that's how I used to be. Still am, when I'm feeling good, at least in the water. I'm up to four miles. I don't get to the pool as much as I'd like, but I do get there. I'm not cut, but I'm not flabby anymore, either.

Being totally brain dead today, I forgot to pack a swimsuit, but I've got shorts on and it's so hot I don't care that I'm drenched. I peel off my T-shirt; might as well work on my tan.

Becca comes over and to my misery, grabs my cheeks. "Wha' hap'nd you face?"

"I had my wisdom teeth pulled."

"Wi'dom teef?"

"Yeah. They were bad teeth."

"I have teef!" She grins big, and yeah, she's got a mouthful of 'em now. "Good teef!"

"Yeah, well, I had bad teeth."

"Why you teef bad?"

"Don't know. Just were."

"Bad teef, bad teef, bad teef!" She's on a roll now, splashing around and loving it. "Mommy showed me howda bwush my teef!" She's so proud of herself.

She and Sarah have about a million or so plastic toys, and Becca drags all of them in the pool, and Sarah decides what Becca has, she wants, so there's some squabbling about who gets what. Well, Becca demanding she wants, and Sarah screaming. I tell them that if they don't take turns, I'll take away ALL the toys. This seems sufficient to get them to comply.

Sarah sits in my lap and splashes away, little baby splashes, and the water feels real nice, actually. Becca, though, has discovered the fine art of full-scale water torture, and she's taken to pouring buckets over my head and splashing me full-on front.

Actually, this isn't bad. Beats the last time I babysat here.

Maybe this'll tire them out and they'll take a nap after we get out.

I hope.

I could use one myself.
 

They love the water. No big surprise there. I loved it as a little kid, and I love it as sort of an adult. I'm glad I remembered the sunblock, because we stay in a long time, and particularly with little Sarah, who's got more like her mom's coloring, they could get sunburned real bad. Actually, it wasn't me who remembered the sunblock, it was Becca. She hands me the bottle of Coppertone Baby Block and says mommy says you hafta put it on.

I'm thinking I should put some on them again soon, when I hear the back door open. Daddy must be awake. Good. Maybe then I can go home.

So I nearly freak when I hear this godawful scream come from the door.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

It's Mulder...but it sure as hell doesn't sound like him. Or act like him.

"I took the kids in the pool." Duh! And I even told him I was gonna.

"Well, get them out of there! They'll drown!"

"Mulder, I'm watching them every second, they're fine-"

"Get them out NOW!"

"Okay, okay. C'mon, ladies, out."

"Don't wanna get out!" Becca is totally pissed.

"Get out of there RIGHT NOW!" Mulder full-on screeches at his cherished first-born...which by the way, I've never seen him do.

And it scares the hell out of me.

"No!" Becca can match him for stubbornness.

Normally, it's a contest of wills...but Mulder starts running at her.

I grab both kids, run up the stairs with them, and lock us all in Becca's bedroom.

Mulder looks like he's gonna kill us all.
 

Of course there's no phone in here, I need to get into Mulder's room and make a call, but I have to take the babies with me...and I'm scared of what he'll do if he comes running up the stairs. I can hear him pacing and ranting about I don't know what downstairs...but I am one scared pussycat right now.

The girls are confused and scared, and I'm trying to get them not to cry. This is bad.

"Okay." I tell them, trying not to let them see how worried I am. "We're gonna walk across the hall and use the phone in your mommy and daddy's room to call Uncle Frohike. Okay?"

Sarah doesn't get it, but Becca does, and she hangs on to me for dear life as we creep across the hall, trying not to make a sound as we pad across the hallway.

Leave it to the Mulders to have hardwood floors.

I close the door as quietly as I can and snap the lock. I hope it's a good one. Mulder can pick locks. I just hope he'll stay downstairs.

I call Ms. Russell. She says he's out at a site. I tell her, this is real important, I need him now. She gives me the site number, tells me to be real careful who I talk to.

Thank God for my nerd watch. It may be butt-ugly, but it holds up to 250 phone numbers, and I need them today.

I have to ask for one person, then another, and another, finally after four people, I can ask them to get Melvin Frohike on the line.

It takes forever.

"Melvin Frohike." When he finally comes on-and I'd know his voice anywhere-I like can breathe a little bad.

"Dad, it's me."

"What is it, Michael? I was just walking out and Selena followed me into the parking lot."

"I'm at Mulder's. Hurry up and get here." I keep my voice real low.

"What? Speak up!"

"I said, I'm at Mulder's...get over here now!" I'm sweating bullets. "He had this migraine and he wanted me to come and watch the kids and when he woke up from taking a nap he was like insane-"

"All right, sit tight. I'll be there in 45 minutes."

Make it a real fast 45, Dad.
 

Oh fuck.

35 minutes has passed. I've been trying to tell the girls stories to keep them calm, but they know something's wrong...particularly Becca, who's Daddy's girl plus.

"Daddy mad!" She looks sad and angry at the same time.

"Daddy doesn't feel good. He'll be okay." I pat her pretty dark head.

I hope.

So far, okay.

But then I hear him come up the steps.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I'm locked in his bedroom with the kids...bad move, Frohike. Should've taken them back to Becca's room. But I figured at the time we'd disturb him less if we didn't move. Trying to keep them quiet has been a challenge. And I think Sarah's hungry. She's starting to fuss.

"Give me back my kids!" I hear Mulder yelling through the door.

"Not a fucking chance!" I shoot back, forgetting to watch my mouth. "You can have 'em back when you calm down!"

"Open the fucking door, Frohike! NOW!"

"No way. You're out there, Mulder. Go lie on the sofa or something."

"You better not have called Scully!"

No, but I called somebody else...

And I hear the front door open.

Was my heart beating that fast?
 

And thank God it's Dad.

"Mulder?" I can hear him call through the door. "Mulder?"

"What!" Mulder is like totally furious now. He's banging on the door, the babies are crying, and I'm wrecked.

I can't let him near the kids when he's like this. No way. I know they're his kids, but if he's gonna act like a maniac, then no way can he have them yet.

"Mulder. Come down here." Dad sounds fairly calm.

Maybe this isn't his first time with Mulder going insane. Somehow, I think they have history here.

"Frohike?" All of a sudden, Mulder's voice changes from being this real badass to kind of like a kid who's been caught with the car or something.

"Mulder. Come downstairs. Right now." Dad's not yelling, his voice is kind of quiet, but I can hear Mulder pad down the stairs.

"Daddy mad." Becca is crying, and I can't seem to console her.

"No, no, Daddy's not mad...and Uncle Frohike's here. It's okay, Becca. It's okay." I stroke her hair and make little circles on her back like my dad does for me when I'm upset. Must have some sort of magic to it. She calms down a little.

"You wanna go back in the water?" I ask Becca. By now, Sarah has fallen asleep in my arms, and I can put her in her crib...but Becca needs to do something normal and fun.

Fortunately, at the age of 21 months, she's got a pretty short attention span.

"Yeah!"

"Shh, you'll wake Sarah. C'mon, we'll put Sarah to bed and then we'll go in the pool, just you and me, okay?"

"'Kay!"

I wish I could recover like she does.

I'm still shaking in my boots...rather, my bare feet...when Becca and I creep downstairs.

"Be real quiet so we don't disturb your daddy," I whisper to her.

"'Kay!" She whispers back.

We pass by the living room, where Dad's got Mulder lying on the sofa, and talking to him quietly.

They don't notice us as we pass by.
 

Becca is nothing if not resilient, and a chance to play in the water again seems to perk her spirits back up. She's back splashing me, and since I don't have to hold Sarah this time, we can roughhouse a little more. Which is kind of fun, but I wish she'd quit grabbing my cheeks.

"My cheeks hurt!" I tell her.

"Bad teef, bad teef!"

"Yes, bad teeth."

We're splashing each other when my dad finally comes out of the house.

"Michael. What happened?"

"Where's Mulder?"

"Asleep for the moment. Tell me how this happened."

He's got on jeans, a short-sleeved henley, and that godawful yellow hat.

Work clothes.

"Take your shoes off and come in, the water's fine," I tell him.

I'm shocked that he does.

END OF PART 64