Tangere Ulcus
 

FROHIKE:

We've been trying to get together with Mulder all week.

He's finally here, both girls in tow, one screaming, the other fussing.

Langly should be here to see this.

I've seen Mulder look better after a month of following a serial killer and climbing into his head. Piece of cake compared to caring for two infant daughters who've been ill.

I can vouch for this.

He's on the video monitor, but even with the steel door, we'd have known somebody was out there strictly from audio.

I take the small one, Sarah, the screamer, from Mulder's arm, freeing him up to deal with the older one, Rebecca, who is merely grumbling.

This changes when Rebecca sees Michael. Michael is, for reasons unknown to all of us, a demigod to Rebecca, and her grumbling turns to squeals of delight upon seeing him. She charges on her chubby little legs over to him, shrieking "Micah! Micah!"

I'm happy to say that he is very kind and patient with the child. He picks her up, places her in his lap, and puts her chubby little toddler hand on the mouse of his computer.

"Draw!" she orders. He obliges her for a time, then tells her enough.

"More!" She is nothing if not demanding. Rather like her father. She's certainly a dead ringer for him, at any rate. She is going to be devastatingly beautiful as she grows up.

Getting Sarah to quiet down is more of a challenge. Apparently, Rebecca was ill first, now Sarah is in the throes of it. I find myself walking the floor and traveling back about a thousand years in time.

Sarah looks more like her mother than her older sister does. Another incredibly beautiful girl. Mulder is indeed very lucky, although at this moment, I doubt he feels this way.

"I think I could deal with the flukeworms better," he admits.

"Rough week?"

"I think the trip to Antarctica was calmer. Certainly I slept more." He grins ruefully.

"You said you were awake for 72 hours straight."

"My point exactly." His speech is punctuated by continuous yawns. "I think this is the quietest the tigresses have been all week." Rebecca is contentedly annoying Michael, now begging him for a piggyback ride, and Sarah has finally settled down to soft whimpering-not a terribly happy sound, but preferable to the cochlear-melting shrieks she had been previously delivering.

"Changed your mind about a third one?" If this didn't do it, then he's even crazier than I think, and I give him plenty of credit in that area.

He looks at ME as if I'm insane.

"No way. These kids are the greatest." In spite of his exhaustion, he gives a real grin, with teeth. And gazes over his daughters with a look I know well. "Of course, Scully keeps inserting the word 'vasectomy' into every other sentence...seriously, I'd have my own baseball team, but it's so hard on Scully...I think we'll wait." He smiles that enigmatic Mulder smile again.

I think Scully is in trouble.

"They are precious." And that they are.

God, I remember when my own kids were this tiny. It's as if it were yesterday.

Sarah is quiet for a few moments, but soon her relative calm gives way to renewed screeching.

And at this moment, Langly has arrived.

Couldn't have timed it better myself.

I extend the tiny, screaming infant to him, and I delight in the expression of utter dismay and confusion crossing his face.

"Here, you need the practice," I say, grinning evilly.
 

LANGLY:

What the hell am I supposed to do here?

Other than when my niece and nephew were real small, and Joanie took some pictures of us with me holding them while I was on the sofa, I haven't ever picked up a baby.

Especially one that's giving her lungs a workout. This kid's volume rivals that of the entire Warped Tour entourage playing together.

It's not just the volume, it's the pitch. It's the most irritating horrible sound I ever heard.

How the hell do you make it stop?

Do they come with an on-off switch? Can you just pull the batteries?

What do I do here?

Help. I am like so stuck.

What's worse is, I got both Frohike and Mulder, and they're just looking at me like, hey, your turn, you figure it out. Both with these huge shit-eating grins on their faces.

You'd think both of them having practical experience in the dad department, they could help me out here, but it's like they're taking this malicious pleasure in watching me fumble around in the dark, not having a clue.

Just remember guys, paybacks are a bitch.

Why won't this kid stop crying? I put her against my shoulder, she's tiny and I got plenty of real estate there, but she's still mad as hell.

And what makes me mad is I feel like a total helpless idiot here.

I pat her on the back, real soft, I know when Ally does this to me it calms me down. I mean, I'm lots older, but shouldn't what works on adults work on kids, too?

She keeps wailing.

Oh man I am like a total failure at this.

But I am providing some extreme amusement for Mulder and Frohike, who are having way too much fun watching me struggle.

I hate them right now. I mean, this is Mulder's kid, he should take her!

He's probably tired of it. Frohike says he's been under house arrest with two sick kids all week.

He's probably getting off just watching somebody else suffer.

It's been less than five minutes and I'm tired of it already. Nothing I do makes this kid stop yelling.

I keep patting her on the back, and I say her name, in this voice I don't even recognize-it's like, they do it to you, you can't help it-and all of a sudden I feel something hot and wet dripping down my shirt.

At that moment, Sarah Mulder stops screaming.

She's gotten her satisfaction. She's barfed all over my shirt. My Ramones shirt, no less!

And God, what a stench!

I got to get out of these clothes, like right now.

I hand the baby back to Mulder, shuddering.

Frohike and Mulder are both screeching with laughter as I bail.
 

Ally's on the sofa with her laptop when I come in. She's not too happy lately, having to stay home all the time. I hope she's not gonna get too depressed.

Any worries of that go crashing to the ground when she sees me. She smiles, this big, wicked smile, and starts giggling.

I'd like to know what's so funny here. I mean, I got kid barf all over my shirt, and I discover on the way in the house, in my hair. It's shorter but not short enough to escape an infant practicing projectile vomiting.

"I wanna know how something that little can barf up so much stuff!" And I do. This seems to violate all the laws of physics.

She keeps giggling.

I'm beginning to feel like the butt of some cosmic joke here. And I'm not liking it a whole lot.

Ally's still giggling. She thinks this is hilarious.

The humor is totally lost on me.

I glare at her like, what the hell's your problem?

She just grins some more and waves her hand at me. "Welcome to fatherhood, babe."

Oh man.

Nobody told me fatherhood involved a LOT more showers.
 

MICHAEL:

Got to say I enjoyed that one.

You can tell Langly hasn't been around little kids much. I mean, I haven't either, but Rebecca doesn't seem to care, she thinks I'm great.

Right now I wish she didn't think I was so great. She's real demanding and I'm getting real tired.

How the hell does Mulder put up with this shit? From two of them?

How did my dad do it?

Me and Les, we're only three years apart. So we were both little together. Must've been hell for Mom and Dad, trying to take care of us. Dad says when I was real little, Mom worked graveyard and he worked days, so that one of 'em would always be there, and then they'd eat dinner together, and that was the only time they saw each other. That was how it was until my dad got into trouble. Then my mom went on days because she had trouble getting babysitters at night, and I went to the Y, which I hated except for swimming.

I used to hate daycare. We were all this big bunch of kids in the same room, they were supposed to keep us separated by age but they never did, and I used to get the crap beat out of me by some of the older kids. (Meaning bigger). And just about everybody's bigger than me, well guys anyway, so I got beat up a LOT.

I don't think Les minded it that much. She's always been like this queen ruling over her kingdom, or queendom, whatever you want to call it, she's always like in charge. And when she was ten, my mom let her go home after school by herself. Then the next year Mom decided Les could watch me after school, I still had to go in the summer, but I could go home. And I figured it was gonna be great.

Staying with Les made Y care look like a piece of cake.

Les was such a bitch. She hated it that my mom made her walk me home from school, and I hated walking with her. I'd always try to lose her, and that made her even madder. Then we'd get home and Les would tell me I had to do my homework before I could watch cartoons, and I didn't want to, I knew I could do it like before school the next day, it was always real easy, but she would get like, you can't watch TV. And this pissed me off big time. I used to flip it on and then she'd come and turn it off, and then we'd end up screaming and sometimes bashing on each other.

And my mom always believed her when she got home. It was like, Les was older, so of course she had credibility. Right? And Les was such a good girl. Les always did her homework and didn't have the TV on all the time and didn't sneak out without telling anybody or set fires in the apartment. Les didn't try to bring home every stray cat in the neighborhood, which I did all the time. I would've given anything to have a pet. Just somebody I could talk to. Somebody who didn't tell me all the time I sucked.

And I kept thinking, if my dad hadn't gone away, then it would be so much better. I mean, looking back, it was probably real hard for Mom and Dad, but I liked it when they were around. My dad would play with me. He'd get mad at me too, but he always played with me at night. We'd build Legos and stuff. Les always tried to butt in. And that pissed me off, because that was like when I got to be with my dad. And Dad didn't say every minute what a rotten kid I was. My mom always said I was like such a brat and why couldn't I be more like my sister, but my dad never did.

And on Saturday mornings, Dad would get up and watch the cartoons with me, and we'd have cereal together, just us guys, and it was so great. Les thought cartoons were stupid. She probably still does.

My mom used to tell Les when Mom was working, she couldn't have anybody over at the house, and that made Les real mad. She was always like blaming me
because she had no friends.

Of course, she did overlook her charming personality on that one. I mean, who could like Leslie when she was younger? Or even when she was older? It's real hard to like somebody who's never wrong. And Les is never wrong. Just ask her.

It's like I never really appreciated how much I like living with Dad. Yeah, he gets on my nerves sometimes, but I like that it's just us. And we have good times together, too.   And he takes good care of me, and I don't like to admit it, but I needed some taking care of, and my dad was there for it.

So why does Leslie have to come and fuck it all up?

I keep hoping she's not gonna show.
 

BYERS:

I arrive to find Mulder with us. I was going to come in earlier, but I became rather distracted with...

Shopping.

Yes, I went shopping.

I didn't buy anything, but I shopped all day long.

For one specific thing.

I was looking at diamond rings. Trying to assess where the best values for the money were, what was available, and looking for the one that was just...perfect.

I didn't find it.

I've been to over a dozen jewelers, and most of those I have automatically crossed off my list as potential providers of a ring for Juliet.

A ring for Juliet. The sound of those words still frightens me.

Yet I spent the entire day, combing the DC area, in search of a diamond ring that would be just right for her.

It's almost as if there is some compulsion driving me, and I am powerless to stop it.

I tell myself, you don't need to do this until you are ready. And it is my Visa card, and I am in control. Right?

Not really.

I keep thinking of the ad, Visa, it's everywhere you want to be.

This implies that you choose, that you, in the words of another credit card company, master the possibilities.

Not in my case. It's as though something has taken over my body, some alien force, that I cannot understand nor control.

I am terrified.
 

Langly strolls in, hair still damp. This arouses a great chorus of laughter from Mulder, Frohike and Michael. I'm lost on this one. I've seen the guy with wet hair, and it's not THAT amusing, unless you consider a drowned blonde rat to be the height of hilarity.

Mulder then relates the circumstances of Langly's baptism by infant spit-up, and I can't help but smile.

A little reality check is good for the boy, I decide.

He glares at me, as though I have joined the others in conspiring against him.

Mulder asks him if he'd like to hold Sarah again, and Langly says he's had enough public humiliation for one day.

And then I offer, before I am even aware of what is coming out of my mouth, to hold the child.

I think this week must have been very difficult for Mulder, since normally he is disinclined to hand off his daughters so easily, but before I know it, I am cradling a tiny creature with hair about the color of my own.

She is a very pretty infant. Fine features like her mother, save for the chin, which is Mulder's. Very clear, bright blue eyes.

Very observant eyes.

She stares at me for a few moments, seems undecided, and then realizes I'm not her father.

At which point, she breaks into a stream of hard sobbing.

It appears to be my turn to be laughed at tonight.

I'm a little more sympathetic towards Langly after this.

Well, that is, until I see the smirk crossing his face.

I think he just got a little bit of desired revenge.
 

MICHAEL:

I'm listening, for a change.

Mulder's talked to as many people as he can in the cities where the thirteen abortion-clinic bombings took place. He's been having a hard time getting people to even acknowledge it, let alone talk about it. Which is sort of weird. This is what Mulder does best.

"The old charm isn't having the same effect, is it?" My dad is sort of teasing him. Which he deserves. He teases my dad all the time, and I know something about my dad.

He tries to be a good sport, but he really hates to be teased.

Byers has handed back Sarah to Mulder, and Sarah's still yowling, she is just plain unhappy about everything. And when Rebecca sees her little sister getting all the attention, she decides, fuck Michael, I want Daddy. So now Rebecca's trying to crawl all over him, and push Sarah out of the way, and Mulder looks like he's about to get his limbs ripped out.

He looks at my dad, and you see him wince. Hard. "Doesn't seem to work as well as it once did." Certainly not on his girls, that's for sure. "But I did find out some things from a couple of people. The couple of them willing to have anything to do with me."

"That shows a serious lapse in judgment," Byers taunts him. Byers is not a jokester, but sometimes he comes up with these lines, and his delivery, well, it zings right where it hurts.

Which means the rest of us get a good laugh at Mulder's expense, which is always a good thing.

I think Mulder must be way tired, usually he's quick on the uptake, but today, he's more like, let's get this over with so I can dump these kids in bed and maybe get five minutes peace and quiet.

"So what has happened," Mulder's in work mode now, "is that, in the case of the two fires I was able to get anyone to admit to anything about, there's no clear evidence of arson or bombing. It's as if they just spontaneously ignited. Very strange, to say the least."

"The results are the same," my dad points out.

Yeah. Some people died. Mostly nurses.

My mom's a nurse. Jo used to be one. I mean, they don't -didn't-do that kind of nursing, but man, it could have been them.

And much as I don't like my mom, I really don't want to see anything happen to her. Anything bad, anyway.

"So what I'm going to do is, I'm going to start with a little road trip. First to Omaha and Minneapolis, which is where my most forthcoming sources were, and then branch out, see if I can get anyone else to talk, which I think I can."

"What makes you so sure they'll even see you?" My dad, always the skeptic.

Mulder gives a real wicked grin. And points to his older daughter. "I'm taking Rebecca."

Dad looks real puzzled here. "So what about Sarah? Aren't you responsible for watching them while Scully is at her lab?"

"I got Maggie to watch her."

"How'd you ever get Scully to agree to this?" Langly's amazed.

Mulder looks kind of sheepish now. "Haven't told her. Yet. Sometimes apology is better than permission."

Funny, I've thought that, too.

Mulder then looks over all of us, and gets this real evil look on his face. "Unless you guys want to watch her."

"NO!" I think we all shout it at once.

Mulder looks down at his younger girl. "Sarah, you're becoming about as popular as I am."

END OF PART 9