"I beseech you, do not forget the ladies..."

Abigail Adams, in a letter to her husband regarding the Bill of Rights which was in draft at the time
 

JULIET:

I am terribly in need of distraction.

My days consist of sleeping long hours, waking up, struggling to deal with simple tasks such as showering and getting to the car for physical therapy, which is a lot more like medieval torture than any kind of high-tech medical treatment than you would envision.

And John has now gone back to work...back to life on the outside. Back to communication with other adults, to intellectual stimulation, to being able to go out for lunch if he damn well chooses.

Last night was the first night we made love since I was laid up...and it was wonderful. It's the first thing I haven't been depressed about since the accident and my father's passing.

I miss my dad so much. I couldn't even go to his funeral because I couldn't move. I will always be unhappy about this. I know he would understand, but this doesn't make me feel better about it.

I miss him because I was always so close to him. I also miss him because when he was alive, he was my mother's best friend and constant companion. Mom isn't the sort of person who relishes being alone very much. Part of that Italian upbringing, I suspect.

Right now, she's taking care of John and me...and why do I get the feeling this is as much for her benefit as for mine?

I do feel for her. She's had a dreadful shock. Losing my father...I always figured, she'd go not far behind. Not that she isn't strong. She is. But she and my father were always so close, they shared so much. They were looking so forward to their retirement, for opportunities to travel and relax and read books simply for enjoyment, not for career enhancement. To write when they chose, not because the law of academia mandates that you publish or perish. They would have completely enjoyed those years.

And now that's been denied them. And it makes me angry.

Angry because they deserved that chance. And angry because as much as I love my mother, if she doesn't get out of our apartment soon, I'm going to explode.

I hope she's planning to return to her university position this fall. If she doesn't, they will probably have to carry me off in 5-point restraints.

While Mom does offer some practical help, overall, I think her hovering over us is not helping me to get well-or to help John and me use this experience to strengthen our own relationship. I feel that this is something we should do together.    With her there, I feel that she is driving him away from me.

I know, I sound like a whining five-year-old. I realize he has responsibilities that extend beyond us, but lately, it appears that it provides more of an escape than an obligation.

I was grateful beyond words that my mother declined to go to dinner with us for Langly's birthday last night. Being out in public, talking with living, breathing human beings, that was the best therapy I'd had in a long time. And while others may think otherwise, I found that spending the majority of my time conversing with the three teenaged girls at the table-yes, I still
consider Kelly a teenager, and at 19, she is-really helped me focus on why I feel so miserable. I'm not sure how, but listening to their youthful voices and concerns helped me forget mine for a while, and, ironically, bring things back into focus.

I could program-if I could type. I suppose I could try to work one-handed. Slow and laborious, but it would be something.

And I'm nervous. I really want kids, and I want them soon, and I'm praying to God nothing happened that we can't have them.

In the meantime, I need to find a way to get my mom out of the house...and John back in.
 

ALLY:

I wasn't this tired at work.

It's still morning, and I'm exhausted. And I have absolutely nothing to show for my exhaustion. I've spent the time attempting to find the living room under the mess that's accumulated there over the last few months...well, in the few moments I'm not chasing after Patrick. So far, we've sacrificed another remote to his efforts, and I had to lock the photo lab when I discovered he'd been contemplating it as a new place to try out his destructive instincts. This would go over really well with Langly and Frohike and Byers. NOT.

He has to be supervised every moment...he is into everything.   I realize my memories have been clouded by time, but I don't remember Miranda being like this.

Of course, I never had a son before.

He's incredibly loquacious...I don't think he's shut up for more than five seconds. Even on trips to a different room, he keeps up a steady stream of patter. He has questions about everything, many of which I can't answer, and every time I think I'm making a dent in the mess, he manages, somehow, to undo all of my efforts.

And this was before Mulder even showed up. Now I've got two extra kids...all because I wasn't working.

I'd like to know what the hell you call this.

Sarah is screaming for something to eat, and I'm trying to nuke her bottle to the correct temperature...and yes, you do forget how to do some of this stuff. Patrick and Rebecca are arguing over a stuffed zebra. My tactic is to remove the zebra completely, which produces shrieks of protest from both parties.

I'm not worried. Give them a couple minutes, they'll find something else to fight over.

Why did I even agree to do this in the first place?

I did it because I was tired...and tired of being tired.

I had to have been out of my mind.

Anyone who ever refers to me as not working, will be shot on sight.
 

JO:

I haven't yet been laid off, but the university scuttlebutt is that soon, I'll be out of a job.

This is depressing me terribly. I suppose I could go back to nursing...if I could handle it emotionally. I don't think I can.

Right now, I need a job, one with health insurance.

This is because a routine mammogram that I had done two weeks ago, I have just been informed, showed some abnormal results. I'm to go in this afternoon to discuss them. I don't like the sound of that. I am alarmed both by the speed which I have been requested to attend, and by the fact that they will not tell me anything over the phone.

I have no lumps...nothing obvious like that. It couldn't be that bad. Could it?

I'm tempted to call Melvin...I could really use a friend right now.

No. I don't have any solid information yet. And he has enough concerns to keep him going.

And there is a message on my voice mail.

I don't recognize the caller. She identifies herself as Martha Small...could I please call her? I recognize the area code and exchange as being in the Baltimore area.

I wonder how she got in touch with me...and what she needs.

I might as well. It's still four hours till my appointment.

Maybe I can do something useful in the meantime.
 

MIRANDA:

I can't believe my mom is finally taking some time off. I wonder what finally made her do it.

I think it's the only thing Langly and me ever agreed on. Okay, that, and Pillsbury cookie dough, and slasher films.

Maybe now that she's home, he won't drive me so crazy.

Yeah, right.

I keep thinking maybe she can do more stuff for me, but it's like she's got Langly's nephew to look after now, and he's like demonically possessed.

Okay, I admit he's cute. And smart and funny.

And a major brat. I lock my door so he can't get near my stuff. Everything that kid touches, gets wrecked.

I was looking forward to having her around...but somehow, I don't think it's gonna be like I hoped.

Well, at least I get my drivers' license in four months.

I got to think of a way to get Mom and Langly to give me a car for my 16th.

Yeah, right.
 

GIZZIE:

"Phone call for you," the receptionist at the nurses' station tells me in this voice like she could give a flying fuck. I'm on day shift today.

I hope it's not my husband. Only time he calls is when somebody dies, and only if that somebody is one of the animals.

"Yeah?" I'm not too too busy at the moment, but here in ICU, give it a minute, it can all change.

"It's Martha."

"You're not on today...what's up, girl?"

"I need...do you have time to go have a drink tonight?"

Martha rarely asks you to do anything for her. Ever. Usually, it's the other way around. She does for everybody.

I think. What's the husband up to?

Working till 11. I'm off at 7.

"That'd work. Usual spot?"

"Uh...yeah."

She sounds weird. Nervous... but excited. And scared. And young.

No. No fucking way. She's a married woman. I mean, so what if he's immobile and now he doesn't even recognize her half the time...Martha's not one to back down on her promises.

No. This can't be about a guy. No way in hell.

Could it?

Not that I have time to think about it, because another fucking patient just coded.

Looks like another one bites the dust.

We'll talk tonight.
 

KELLY:

This is so hard.

I'm glad I have Michael here. He's been really good...I shouldn't yell at him so much when he's busy and he doesn't have time for me.

I mean, I guess in school during the year, I'm always studying so I don't give him as much time as he wants.

But at least when I need him, he's always there for me.

I try hard to be there for him.

Losing Dr. Shalad...she was my boss, but she was also sort of like my mom. She helped me a lot through what happened to me on New Year's.

I'm glad to be working, and being in Dana's lab is cool and all, but it's not the same. I felt safe here. I don't feel so safe in Dana's lab. She's much more demanding, and she's not so easy to get to know.

But Michael always tells me I can do this. And that's one of the things I love about him.

That, and he's so cute. I didn't think he was cute when I met him...but then, I didn't know him.

Lately, I'm having thoughts I shouldn't. Like I want him to ask me to marry me.

And I can't do that. I've got so far to go. And he's not ready, and I'm not ready...

I just need him to be here. I never tell him that, but I need him so much. I'm afraid to tell him. He thinks I'm so tough and cool.

I'm not that tough. But I can't let anybody smell fear.

Right now, though, I don't care. I feel bad, and I just want to cry.

And Michael will let me. And he won't make me feel stupid.

Everyone always tells me how smart I am.

Then why do I feel so dumb all the time?
 

MARTHA:

This can't be happening.

No. I'm married. And I love my husband, which I promised to do...for as long as we both shall live.

And I honor my commitments. No matter how hard they are.

What has happened to me?

I must be in serious need of distraction. This must be a manifestation of my need to escape what has become a very dreary life.

I love Daniel with all my heart. But it's hard. He is no longer able to move or speak, and he doesn't even recognize me half the time.

And nobody knows why. Goddammit, I've tried to find out...I have access to specialists, and they're stumped.

I know it happened when he was in Saudi Arabia...but will our government even admit the possibility? Not a chance.

So in the middle of all this, what do I think of?

I think about the lovely man who rescued me from jail last night. Who had no reason to do it. Who didn't even know me before then.

He is small, gnomelike, and when I met him, he was unshaven...and wearing the most horrible hat I've ever come across.

All I can think about is, I want him to hold me.

I'll be seeing Gizzie tonight. Maybe she can help me put this together.

Then again, maybe I don't want her to.
 

DANA SCULLY:

I need to get back to work. I've given Daryl my condolences, and he knows he is welcome in our home anytime.

In the meantime, I've got a huge qualitative analysis to run...and being out of practice on the lab bench is not helping my cause. And I've got to finish by Sunday. There is no way I can give the lab another day off and not arouse suspicion.

Actually, I think I'm being watched very closely at this point...and I don't like the sensation.

I love my weekends...my chance to be with my daughters, to play with them and Mulder and Roswell, the dog...

This weekend will not be like that.

I might as well get over it, and get my butt over to the lab.

*************************************************************************************************
CAROLINE:

I was convinced that the best thing I could do right now was to be with my daughter. For myself, and for her.

Now I'm pretty certain I need to rethink my course of action.

I know this is a small apartment.

And perhaps I would be doing a bigger favor to both Juliet and John-and to myself-if I went back to Ohio and tried to work out my own life, and let them have theirs.

But right now, the mere thought of it is enough to make me break into tears.

I'm in the living room. My daughter is in the bedroom.

I hope she can't hear me.

END OF PART 72