Nemo Est Tam Fortis Quin Rei Novitate Perturbetur
 

BYERS:

My palms sweat, my cheeks burn, and my breath has become irregular.

I need to get out of here. About five minutes ago would have been preferable, but I'll settle for right now.

Lest you think I have been living in a cave all these years and am unaware of the existence of these places, I assure you I am not. How could I be? I've been working with Frohike for a dozen years. The selfsame Frohike who has subscriptions, both on-line and via snail mail, to the catalogs of Xandria, Frederick's of Hollywood, Victoria's Secret...no, I'm very aware of the fact that these stores exist.

And it's not as if I can't enjoy the merchandise. On Juliet, the merchandise is positively delectable. However, I generally enjoy this pleasure in the privacy of our own home, not in a well-populated, brightly lit boutique in the middle of a busy mall in suburban Virginia.

With salespersons, no less.

Salespersons who appear to me to be overly eager to help us...at a time when I'd just like to be left alone. Preferably in the food court. I think there's a Fannie Mae here in this mall; some chocolate could be the ticket right now...

Juliet, who is the slower-moving of the two of us at this point, is dragging me along. Gravity just wants to hold me in place.

Personally, I like surprises...she could pick out what she wants and show it to me at home...that would suit me fine...

"What do you think?"

She's holding up a violet lace and silk teddy for me to, I think, admire.

"It's...lovely."

And this is the most modest of the items she has selected. She methodically picks through the stacks of various and sundry items that are generally only worn by females, with the exception of certain parts of West Hollywood and Fire Island.

Byers, you idiot, you love this on her at home...in the privacy of our own room...what the hell is your problem?

I think the keywords here are 'privacy of our own room'.

My WASP uptightness has never shown itself so prominently. Antiperspirant was positively useless for this situation. And even were I so inclined to use it, I suspect there is not a cover-up makeup on the planet that could conceal the crimson spots that I'm sure my cheeks are sporting. There are mirrors all over the store, but I haven't got the nerve to look in one.

"I feel faint," I moan to Juliet.

She gives me her usual dead-to-rights dark gaze. "John, it's lingerie. I wear it all the time."

Yes...but not THAT lingerie.

The items she has selected are hardly what one would term 'utilitarian.'

"Are you ready?" I ask, praying to whatever powers that be that she is-I'm even willing to pay.

"John! I have to make sure this stuff fits! Would you buy a suit without having it fitted?"

Well, no...but it's not the same thing. Really, it's not.

"Come on, help me out here."

OH CHRIST.

I follow her into the changing areas, which are protected by heavy watered satin drapes.

She starts undressing, and needs my help with her bra...

Oh no. I thought this stopped when I was 20.

Just the sight of her removing her clothes...

I am hopelessly turned on.

And she knows it.

She is enjoying torturing me like this.

"Close your eyes."

I wonder what she's going to try on next...

This question is resolved when she starts pulling on the zipper of my jeans...

"No, no," I beg. Not here. Not now.

"Yes." She is determined. She is seated on the chair in the dressing area, and I'm standing, and all of a sudden, I feel the warm dampness of her mouth sinking down on my sex...

And it's the only part of me that doesn't go limp with desire.

Juliet has an incredible mouth. And she can take me in deeply, and she varies her motions-some are slow, sensual, soothing; others are rapid and strong...

And it doesn't take me long to expel myself into her mouth. I'm trying so hard not to make any noise, but it's difficult...I'm scared to death, embarrassed as hell, and totally into what she is doing to me...

There is a loud noise as I throw my head back, arching myself with pleasure...

Only the noises are not from me. Or from her.

They're coming from out in the store.

Oh Christ. What the hell is going on in here?

"John?" The look of pure pleasure is gone from Juliet's face...and in its place is one of fear and puzzlement.

"I don't know."

I'm not short by any means, but I'm not Langly, either, and trying to stare over the top of the drapes is difficult.

It appears that there are a number of individuals-a fairly large number of them, actually-that object to the wares that this particular establishment peddles. I'm hearing shouts of 'Whores!' and 'Infidels!' and a mishmash of misquoted Biblical verse...

Haven't any of these jerks ever read the 'Song of Solomon'?

The efforts of the sales staff to quell the mob that is growing is not successful...they appear to be getting angrier, and threats to call security don't mollify them in the least.

I don't believe this. While this place is certainly not my natural environment...and I really hope to not be visiting here anytime again soon...the reactions of the individuals in the place is, in my mind's eye, inappropriate from every way it could be approached.

I'm trying to help Juliet get her clothes back on, but it's a very slow process...and one of the bastards rips back the curtain as I am still trying to assist her.

And knocks her over.

I am a mild-mannered man. I pride myself on keeping my head together, staying cool, thinking things through.

All this goes straight to hell in that one second.

Mr. Universe I'm not...but I'll have to thank Michael for challenging me to race him. I haven't done it yet, but I've been swimming after hours in the Langly pool...there is no way I'm going to let a 25-year-old smartass beat me in swimming. All this time I've been adding laps nightly and cursing the little brat for driving me to this.

I think my irritation just moved over to gratitude.

I pin this youngish man in a badly cut suit to the floor-the one that looked so civilized, so clean, so normal-and had the nerve to bully an injured woman.

Time has become unreal. Only later when the police arrive do I notice I have blood on my knuckles.
 

I want to know what happened to Juliet...they won't let me see her. I ask them to make certain she gets medical attention...

I feel as if I'm blowing dust into the wind.

I'm being booked on charges of assault and battery.

All I can do right now is be grateful that back in Baltimore in '89, we were never charged with anything; ergo, no record of our arrest exists.

Meaning that I may be able to be released on my own recognizance.

I need to make certain that Juliet is going to be all right. And I am entitled to one phone call.

Who you gonna call?
 

"Lone Gunmen Auto Body." It's Michael.

I was rather hoping for his father. I ask if he's around.

"Nah, Dad's doing stuff for Ms. Russell today. I think." Michael is still young and somewhat self-absorbed at times.

I wonder if Kelly is in his lap right now.

"What're you up to, Michael?"

"Ah, me and Mulder are just hanging."

Oh shit. Mulder's there.

Normally, a line like that could open up to literally hours of bantering...but I only have three minutes. And I need help. Now.

"Michael, write this down," I tell him, emphasizing each word.

"Okay-Becca, put that down!"

Oh, great. He's got the kids with him.

"Michael? This is important." I'm trying not to snap at him.

"Well, it's a little hard when you got a lovestruck toddler crawling all over you and grabbing everything-Mulder, watch your damn kids, okay?" He's in a tetchy mood.

Wonderful. Just what I need. Michael in one of his moods.

"Okay, go." Michael is ready, in spite of what sounds like mild insulting from Mulder behind him.

"I need you to call the Fairfax Police Department, find out what happened to Juliet."

"Huh?"

"Michael, just do it! And then..." I take a deep breath.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to come and bail me out at said same place."

"What the-"

"Michael, don't get weird on me. Just do it." I hang up the phone with a slam.

Juliet wanted me to be a little more open with my feelings.

She should be careful what she asks for.
 

MICHAEL:

I need this like I need a new asshole.

First, Mulder's like, drop everything, I got information for you. So I'm like fine, come on over. He's like why don't you come here?

Because my car's been real unhappy since I went to Jersey, and I don't fucking feel like driving to Maryland with no air conditioning.

So he's like, okay. I mean, he's got an air-conditioned Voyager. He can beat the heat.

He's like later than he said he was gonna be, and I was getting annoyed because I could've had a swim while I was waiting around for him.

So he gets there, and we go over what he's got...

And we find out, it's a fake. Doesn't stand up to anything we can find.

This sucks.

We get to talking. I mean, Mulder can be sort of amusing and all, and I really wanna talk to him about Kelly and me, what's going on, what I'm thinking about...

When I get this bizarre phone call from Byers.

Something about finding out if Juliet's okay...like how? Was she hurt again? Did she get arrested, too? What?

And then he wants me to head over to Fairfax and get him out...of the slammer.

Byers! The fucking prof, in the slammer?!

Mr. Perfect?

What the fuck?

I tell Mulder, I gotta bail on him, Byers needs me to do something. And he's like, I'll go with you.

I really don't want him along on this, but hell, my car may not make it to Fairfax...I really need to fix that puppy.

So we pile in the minivan with the girls, who are really pissed off that Micah can't sit with them and are screeching in the back seat...
 

"So what got Byers in the joint?" Mulder asks me as we're driving along. Through rush hour traffic, no less. So it's not really driving. More like crawling.

"He didn't say."

"Hmm, indecent exposure, maybe?"

Mulder thinks this is one big joke...I'm not in a good mood today, so I'm having a hard time playing along.

I don't know why I'm in such a bad mood. If I knew, maybe I could do something about it.

"Maybe he got caught jaywalking," Mulder offers up, still wearing his shit-eating grin.

Bastard.

"Mulder, shut up and drive, will ya?" I'm not in the mood for this shit. I'm not much in the mood for anything.

Don't even know why. Didn't have a fight with Kelly. Dad hasn't yelled at me in at least 24 hours. My mom called last night and managed not to piss me off. Well, not too bad anyway. And I kicked Langly's ass in the pool, like I always do.

I'm just...feeling unappreciated. Or something. I don't know what.

"Hey, what's wrong, Frohike Junior?" Mulder's still smiling.

I am NOT in the mood for him to play shrink.

"You're sounding kind of down there."

I'm not biting. Been to enough shrinks that I know the drill.

"You want to tell me anything?"

Do I?

Well, for starters, I wish Sarah and Rebecca would shut up. They're both complaining, and since they're in back and we're up here, we can't do anything.

And Mulder doesn't even hear them, for Christ's sake! It's like he's deaf or something.

"Michael? Seriously. What's wrong?"

He's lost the shit-eating grin and looks concerned now.

I think you learn that in shrink school. I sulk in silence.

"You don't seem like yourself. Problem with your dad?"

Well, yeah, he's like so out there lately...it's like I don't even exist. And he won't tell me what the fuck is going on.

"Nah." That's all I say to him.

"You sure? He seems a little off to me."

Mulder, you stupid bastard, my dad is always 'off' by normal standards.

Okay, so even by his own standards, he's 'off.'

"How d'you think?" Two can play this game.

"Well...he seems like he's not concentrating. On anything. He seems just lost in space somewhere...and whatever your dad's faults are-and he has plenty of them-that isn't one of them."

"Uh-huh."

"You talked to him?"

Oh yeah, sure. Like he's gonna tell me anything. I am sure. Not.

"You and Kelly doing okay?"

That's a good question.

It's like, since the day she asked me what I thought would happen to us...it's like I can't relax.

I think she wants me to ask her to marry her.

I think I want to...but not yet. And it's like, I don't say anything, because it's like, if I say not now, she might get the idea that not now means never...I don't know.

Do I want to marry Kelly?

I know I want to stay with her. She's my everything. She loves me and cares about me and we look after each other and help each other...

So why am I like this? That I don't feel like I can ask her yet?

I mean, there's all the practical stuff, like we got no money and no place to live and I still got no idea what I'm going to do and where she's gonna go to school and where I'm gonna go to school...I want to ask her. But I can't. Not yet.

And it's bumming me out. Big time.

I don't even know why.

This sucks.

"Michael? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He laughs a little. "Uh-huh. Sure."

Hey, it's a guy thing.

"So where do we go first? Hospital or police station?"

"Hospital." Juliet's at Fairfax Community Hospital. They say she's okay and she can be released but she needs somebody to come get her.

I don't think traveling with two spoiled kiddies was what she had in mind...but if she had the kind of day I think she did, then maybe she can deal.
 

Juliet's okay. She's got a few bruises, new ones, but nothing real bad. Nothing she can't go home with.

"Where's John?" First thing out of her mouth.

"We gotta go get him," I say. "He's at the police station...he got arrested."

"I was afraid of that," she closes her eyes, and I take her arm, she's not walking real good right now.

"You in pain?" Mulder asks her.

"I'm okay." She winces.

Yeah, she's okay like I'm okay. But Juliet, she's a tough lady. She'll hang.

She smiles at the kiddies. I carried Becca in with me, and Mulder carried Sarah, but now Becca has to walk holding her dad's hand-and she's not happy about this.

That little girl is a pain in the ass sometimes. And it's all Mulder's fault because he spoils those kids so bad.

I bet if it was Dr. Scully that took care of them during the day, they wouldn't be so spoiled. Dr. Scully's kind of strict. I notice they behave better for her.

And my dad can make them behave. It's like he just gives them this look, and they're like, okay, all right already!

Sort of like how I react when he does it to me. And I'm 25. I ought to know what's happening...but it still works. For some reason.

Juliet seems like she's real happy to see the kids, though. She likes kids pretty well. I mean, they don't glom on to her the way they glom on to me (and today, I'm not up for being glommed on to), but she's nice to them...and she looks at them like...

Let's just say, I think babies are a real possibility for her and the prof. And not real far off, either.

I wonder if the prof would let me take his leftover condoms.

If he's got any left by now.
 

We are a real cool bunch, Juliet on her crutches, Mulder and the two babies, and me.

And Juliet's in a REAL bad mood. She is giving the desk clerk so much shit, I suspect the guy will file for disability from a nervous breakdown tomorrow.

She wants to see her man NOW. And she's not fucking around.

We wait.

The kids are getting hungry, it's dinnertime, and Mulder realizes he didn't tell Dr. Scully where the hell he went...and if he doesn't, after his last field trip with Becca, he is like condemned to the sofa for life. So he's like, watch them while he looks for the TTY in the place (they have one, it's just not too obvious where). Juliet and me watch them, but I'm the one who's gotta do the chasing. Juliet can't do it right yet. I mean, she'd help me if she could, but when I hand Sarah to her, who's now crawling everywhere-she's discovered the joys of mobility now-Sarah's like, let me down, I wanna move!

Becca wants me to give her a piggyback ride. I don't feel like it, but I give her a short one. This annoys her. She wants MORE.

I'm ready to swat her little behind when her dad shows up...I'll let him swat her little behind. Which of course he won't do because he just doesn't do that sort of thing.

Still, though, you can tell she's pushing the envelope.

I just hope he's not having any effects from the meds he took a couple weeks back...that isn't gonna be pretty, and I don't need my stress level upped.

C'mon, Byers, let's go already...

What is taking so long?

Juliet looks real tired and like she's about to lose it. The kids are hungry and crabby and probably getting too close to bedtime for comfort. Mulder looks like he's had it.

I know I have.

Aaaaiiiieeeee.

Where's my dad when I need him?

END OF PART 79