sally :)
 

INVICTUS MANEO
Part 71

Dei Gratia
 

FROHIKE:

July 13, 2001

It's after 5 when I get in the door.

First things first. Check on Michael.

I softly loosen the door so as not to wake him. He stirs lightly, but keeps snoring away. Peacefully.

When he's asleep, he still looks like a little boy. And to me, he probably always will.

No sense in disturbing him. I quietly fasten the door again.

Then for the next act before I embark on a probably futile quest to get some sleep.

E-mail my little girl.

I type in the now-familiar address, lesis-@psych.rutgers.edu. She always was a clever child.
 

"Leslie-" I start off, and then, I'm stuck.

I have so much to tell her...and so few words with which to say it.

I suppose anything is better than nothing.

"I very much need to talk to you...please contact me as soon as possible. I love you. Daddy."

Didn't say very much, but I hope she gets the message.

And the final thing I need to do.

A couple fingers of J&B will go down very nicely right now.
 

MICHAEL:

I don't think the temp's ever gonna go down. This is the hottest fucking summer I can remember.

So of course I decide to have surgery during what has to be the week where hell rose to the earth.

I look in the mirror...this is not a good idea these days, but I do anyway. Might as well check out the damage.

My face is actually going down. And it doesn't hurt as much.

That's the good news. The bad news is, the stubble is coming in like mad...and it's uglier than sin and itches like crazy.

Fuck it. I'm gonna shave it.

Besides, I got a funeral to go to this morning.

I hope the black jeans are clean. Should be. Been too hot to wear anything but shorts lately. I got no idea how my dad can wear jeans in this shit.

Maybe it's a good thing he doesn't wear shorts. I've seen his legs.

Not that mine are anything to write home about, but until this week I have been swimming almost every day, and I think it's helping. Like I said, I'm not buff, but I ain't flabby, either.

I'm gonna need coffee. I actually got a good night's sleep-Kelly fed me my last pain pills last night-but my brain's still kind of cobwebby. And I need some motivation to get going here. Getting up to go to a funeral is not my idea of a strong impetus to wake up.

Dad fell asleep in the chair again. At least he went to sleep. He doesn't do that much anymore. Sleep, that is. He thinks I don't know, but I do. He comes in my room a lot, which is okay, but this week I've been like so drugged out that I can't wake up. And it still kind of hurts to talk a lot.

How come it is when you want the shower water to be real hot, it comes in kind of lukewarm, and then when you want it kind of lukewarm, it blasts you with heat?

Maybe it's the gods laughing at us...or just old plumbing.

I shave off the stubble real slow. I don't feel like having my face chopped up. I notice I took the last blade, too. I got to remember that. I always forget, and that's how I get my face so wrecked.

That, and I'm a klutz. And it's hard to do this when all the planes of my face are out of whack. Kelly always tells me I got great cheekbones. I'd be lucky if I could find them right now.

But I manage, and I don't cut myself. For a change. One good thing so far.

Good things are important today. It's Friday the 13th, for one. Not that I'm superstitious...but why fuck with things?

The only shirt I got good enough to wear to a funeral is white, real heavy cotton, and worst of all, it's got long sleeves.

I'm gonna die in this thing.

I hope the temple is air conditioned. It's gonna be a Jewish funeral. Should've asked Ally or Mulder what you got to do at a Jewish funeral.

I could call them...Ally's gonna be up, and Mulder, well, he doesn't usually sleep.

Nah. I got to get Kelly soon. I'll just fake my way along. Probably what a lot of people will do anyway.

I'm dressed, and I look moderately respectable...I'm gonna skip the nose stud today. The earrings, if I don't do some, the holes will close up and I'm not ready for that, but I'm actually thinking about ditching the nose stud. I already let the eyebrow ring holes close up.

I put my contacts in for the first time this week. Weird. Peripheral vision is such an awesome thing.

I'm about ready to leave when I hear a knock on the door...who the fuck would be banging on our door at 8:30 in the morning? I check the spyhole...

It's Mulder. And the kidlets.

He better not be looking for a babysitter. I'm outta here.

I let him in...he is trying to carry two kids, and I'm not that much of an asshole that I'd make him stand out there.

Besides, he pays good. And that 300 bucks came in handy.

Dad wakes up at the sound of the door opening, Mulder walking in, and Becca screeching 'Micah!' She just about knocks me over, she's so excited to see me.

Nice to have a fan club, but...

"Mulder, what're you doing here?"

And he's wearing a suit...God, what the hell is he thinking?

"Going to a funeral."

"Funny, I was about to do the same thing."

"Well, Bergman is a friend of Scully's...I'm meeting her there...was kind of hoping you could watch the girls..."

"Sorry, Mulder. Not today." Granted, for once, I think watching the babies would beat going to a funeral...

But I promised Kelly I'd go, and I'm not gonna back down.

Doesn't this guy ever call in advance? I mean, isn't there such a thing as making arrangements? My mom used to do it. All the time.

Sometimes Mulder really irritates the shit out of me.

"Hey, where's your tie?" He's hassling me now.

"Don't have one."

"Wanna borrow one of mine?"

"Mulder, I've seen your ties. No!" I grab my car keys and leave my dad to deal with him.

He's such a pain in the ass.
 

FROHIKE:

"So Frohike? Going to the funeral?"

I'd nearly forgotten...Dr. Shalad's funeral service is in DC this morning.

I don't really want to...but for some reason, I feel compelled to go...particularly in view of the fact that Mulder seems to be scoping me out as a possible babysitter.

No, not today, Mulder. I love the girls, but I have work to do.

"Allison's not working," I tell him. She may be somewhat irritated that her newfound status as unemployed is being somewhat taken advantage of, but I don't believe she'll turn the kids away.

"Oh, yeah. Should've thought of that. Thanks, Frohike." He grabs the girls and he's out.

A narrow escape.
 

LANGLY:

I'm not going to work today. I'd planned to take this day off anyway. I got stuff to do, and some of it I can't do on the weekend.

Besides, it's not like I got a boss around right now whose ass I need to kiss. And if the guys don't like it, they can stuff it up theirs.

Sadly, this isn't gonna be a day like yesterday.

Least I get to sleep in a bit.

I was thinking that since she doesn't have to go to work, Ally might sleep in with me...but she's already up and around. I find her excavating the living room when I get up.

"So how's it feel not to have to go to work?" I ask her, and I'm still yawning.

She stops what she's doing for a moment. She looks at me real slow and steady and hard.

Did I say something wrong here?

She looks pissed.

"Langly," her voice is real quiet, but not sexy quiet. More like I'm-gonna-kill-you quiet. "I may be unemployed, but don't think for a second this isn't work."

Little bit tetchy, aren't we?

"I didn't mean it like you weren't doing anything," I tell her, trying to save my sorry white ass.

"Good. Then don't make it sound like it." She's back digging through a pile of newspapers, magazines, videos, homework, books, you name it...

I think this might be a good time to escape to the shower.
 

I don't think it's ever gonna get cool again. And the humidity, it's like, you take a shower, you don't even get totally dry ever.

I can hear Patrick screeching through the house and Ally telling him to watch what he's doing. She says it like she's told him a good hundred times or so already this morning.

She might have for all I know.

I hear her telling him that no way is he gonna take one of the phones apart. We've been that road before. I managed to get them back together, but it's a challenge, Patrick has a habit of losing parts. This complicates the job.

Okay, he's a pain in the ass, but at least she doesn't have to plan her brother's funeral today. Not that there's a lot to plan. It's basically, have his body shipped to the cremator, tell them what to do, and when he's cooked, we'll have a service on Chesapeake Bay and say Kaddish and that's that.

And I got to get to Joanie's safe deposit box. She wanted me to do that. It's been more than a month since she died, but it's not like I had a lot of time to get to it.

And having all this stuff to do gave me a convenient excuse for avoiding it, but I don't think I can put it off anymore.

Plus I need to do some stuff to find out what happened to Sheridan...and as much as I dislike the guy, I'd sure as hell like to know what happened to my current boss. Or should I say, the most current one.

Like I said, wish it was yesterday.

As I grab my commuter mug and bail out, I think Ally wishes it was, too.
 

I'm tossing my backpack in the Corolla when I see a familiar vehicle pull into the driveway, but it's not the Frohike-mobile or Byers's way-too-middle-class Buick.

It's Mulder's minivan. Yes, goddammit, he and Scully bought a Plymouth Voyager. And he drives it.

And he's dressed to the teeth, and he's got the kiddies with him.

"Ally's home, isn't she?" He asks me.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Got a funeral to go to...wondered if she'd watch the girls."

"Don't see why not. It's not like she's going anywhere." Hurry up, Mulder, I wanna get this day over with.

I help him bring the kiddies in the house, and call for Ally.

She's got on a blue miniskirt and a red crop t-shirt. Oh, man, she looks hot.

"Hey, Ally, you can watch Becca and Sarah, can't you? I mean, you weren't doing anything, were you?"

Uh-oh...I'm getting the look of death here...what am I doing wrong?

"I have to go to a funeral...just for a few hours," Mulder's giving her the big sad-puppy eyes.

She gives in. "Okay."

"Thanks." He kisses the little girls and hands Ally the baby and all the gear, and there's lots of it. Becca and Patrick are already arguing over toys.

I follow Mulder out the door, but Ally stops me by grabbing at my sleeve.

"Langly. Don't ever mistake unemployment for leisure." She's almost hissing at me.

I think it's gonna take her a while to get used to this.

Hope it happens soon, or I'm probably a dead man.
 

"So you're not going to the funeral?" Mulder asks me.

"Who died?"

"Dr. Shalad, remember?"

Yeah...I do...and I'm real sorry for her, and her husband...but no, I don't wanna be there.

Too many bad memories.

And I got one funeral I got to deal with already.

"Nah, you go ahead and have fun." I stick my tongue out at him.

I'm not sure, but I think he returned the favor.
 

MICHAEL:

Never been to a Jewish funeral...don't think the one we had for the dog counts.

But Mulder's coming, he can sort of help us along here.

He and Dr. Scully see Kelly and me and move in next to us. Dr. Scully's got on black pants and a black silk T-shirt and black pumps, and she looks way too hot to be going to a funeral.

God, what is it about women and funerals? I mean, I go to pick up Kelly, and she's got on this tight black skirt and a tight black shirt and black sandals...oh man. She is delicious.

I am so bad.

Looking at Mulder's tie makes me real happy I turned down the offer of using one of his. This one is so butt-ugly it's humorous.

Apparently Dr. Scully thinks so, too. She's like, Mulder, why did you wear that tie, you know I hate that one!

Mulder winks at her, and I can hear him say softly as he signs, you hate all my ties, Scully.

She just sighs. I think she has to put up with a lot, living with him.

We all do. Mulder is what you'd call high-maintenance.

"So like what are we supposed to do at a Jewish funeral?" I ask Mulder.

Mulder just shrugs. "Just feel free to weep and wail and gnash your teeth...you'll fit right in."

That was not the sort of advice I was looking for.

It sounds like things are about to start, when another person pulls in next to us.

It's Dad. Dressed in a black suit that I think he got at Goodwill. Where he pretty much gets everything.

This suit screams 'fashion victim' even louder than Mulder's tie. And the brown fedora doesn't even match.

"Dad, lose the hat," I tell him.

"Actually, don't," Mulder says. "Michael, in the pockets in front of you...you're supposed to have your head covered." I notice he pops a small black hat on.

Whatever. In Rome, I guess, you do as the Romans do.

Dad sort of glares at me-I know, I didn't wear a tie-but I still think I'd win the better dressed of us.

All I can say is, thank God it wasn't the horrible yellow hat.
 

It's a loooonnng funeral. I mean, Catholic funerals, you say Mass of the Resurrection, 45 minutes later, you're out. Bang. Over.

Not this. They keep going on and on and on. And it's in Hebrew, and Mulder's like the only one that understands any of it, but he keeps looking around, like he's trying to find something.

So does Dad.

This is hard on Kelly. Mostly I pay attention to her. Dr. Shalad was her boss, and she really liked Kelly, and Kelly got on real good with her. She liked her job in Dr. Shalad's lab. She's trying not to snuffle, but I find myself wrapping my arms around her a lot. I can tell when she's about to break when she puts her face against my shoulder and her back trembles a lot.

Maybe when this is over, we can go do something. Like maybe walk on the beach or something. It's a ways to the beach, but I'd like to go there. Remind of us the time we were at the shore with Dad and Jo. That was a great time.

They do have air conditioning here, but it's so damn hot outside that after a while the AC seems to be giving up and wilting along with the rest of us. Dad and Mulder look like they're dying in their suits. I even see Dad loosen his tie after a while, and Mulder does the same thing, and Dr. Scully doesn't even bitch at him.

Dr. Scully looks real worried and sad. When it's FINALLY over, she goes over to Bergman and gives him a hug.

"He was her lab partner in first year med school," Kelly says about how they got to be friends.

Bergman looks like shit. I bet he hasn't slept since this happened. I wonder if he's taken off work. Fortunately, I've managed to not get sick lately, so I don't know.

Kelly hugs him, and even I sort of give him the one-armed version. Shaking hands with this guy right now, it would just be so cold...and he looks like he could use all the friends he can get.

He thanks us for coming. He says, can he call us tomorrow or the beginning of next week...and he's looking at me and Dad.

Dad asks him if there's someplace they can go and talk, but he's like, not now, got to be with the families today...but soon.

We wish him good luck.

He's gonna need it.
 

FROHIKE:

I didn't learn anything while I was here, except that Jewish funerals last too long, you have to keep your hat on, and the air conditioning is insufficient in this weather.

I looked for people that seemed to be out of place here...people in the doorways, lurkers, anyone without a hat...couldn't seem to detect anyone. Everyone seemed to be sincerely mournful...they all looked as if they belonged here.

Still, some people are better actors than others...

And I'm not planning to mingle. I have work to do today.

I thought this might yield enough to be a billable hour for Ms. Russell, but I'd feel guilty doing that...I really found out nothing.

Not that I expected to, but I did hope.

Right now, I'd like to feel as if I was doing more than groping.

Except for one thing.

Martha.

I'd like to seriously be groping her...

Frohike, you're in a house of worship, and she's married, and you're in no position...

She is so hot.

Oh Christ...why can't you just be merciful, Lord, and let her husband go...

The thoughts I have at times...I'm going to hell. I know it.

The more I try not to think of her, the more she pushes herself to the front of my mind...

END OF PART 71