"Sir, it was anger that made him run away.
When a person his age is hurt, he can be dangerous."

"Antigone," Translation by Richard Emil Braun. Lines 927-928. Used without permission.
 

ALLY:

September 13, 2001

Friday the 13th. I'm normally not superstitious...but I leave nothing to chance these days.

One of the things that has saved my life was an assignment of Dana's. She wasn't supposed to have to teach this semester. She was supposed to be devoting her time to her research and teaching again in the spring, but at the last moment, she was assigned a seminar in biophysics.

I'm not getting paid for this-ADA money has been squeezed off, and universities are generally unwilling or unable to take this out of their budget-but Dana says she will find a way to, through subterfuge, write me into her research grant so that I can get paid eventually.

I don't care. I'd have paid HER to do it. I needed this. I'd broken my rule about not drinking before 5 p.m. so many times when she'd asked me that I said yes before she completed her sentence.

The seminar is on Wednesday afternoon. It's all PhD students, seven of them, so it's a pleasant, intimate atmosphere. Two of them are in MD-PhD programs, and all of them are extremely bright.

My only anxiety was: what am I going to do with Patrick? Miranda is not out of school until later in the day, and child care? Forget it. I interviewed a couple of people, and was utterly turned off. My options seem to be evangelical preschools and fundamentalist family care providers. They seem to be the only ones in the business these days. I find it disturbing, to say the least, that in a city the size of Alexandria, which has a substantial Jewish population, there are no Jewish preschools. Or even
nonsectarian ones.

I tried to get Langly to do a search, but he just blew me off. I realize he's busy, but he could have done this rapidly. Finally, I asked Juliet to help me. Ten minutes later, I had a database.

Just no child care.

And this seems to be a concern of Juliet's as well. She has confided in me that she thinks she's pregnant. Too soon to tell, of course-but she claims that she feels as if she is.

I wonder how she feels that way. She's not tossing her cookies every five minutes. In fact, she is positively luminescent.

I hate her.

Not really, but whenever I've been pregnant, I've felt like hell. Juliet, on the other hand, looks as if she's going to be one of those classically glowing pregnant ladies you read about but at least in my case, don't have firsthand experience with.

If she is, I'm happy for her, but it brings home that I still feel horrible about not having kids with Langly. I wanted to do it, at some level.

On the other hand, the way he's behaving lately, it's probably a good thing it didn't happen.

It's as if I have been shut out of his world, and all the portals have been locked. He's home late nearly every night, and when he gets home, his MO is to grab a beer or do a couple shots and either head out to the office, where he works until far too late, or channel surf without speaking to any of us. This has gone on for a couple of weeks now, and to say it's disconcerting
would be putting it mildly.

I find I have to fortify myself with a large hit of liquid courage in order to put up with it.

What's really a bummer, we always enjoyed drinking together. Probably too much, but it was always a great part of the day to sit down, suck down a couple beers, laugh, go over the stuff that happened during the day, everything and nothing.

I'll ask him what's wrong, and he'll say, nothing, making it clear that the discussion will not be opened. And I've asked him numerous times if he's angry with me. He finally yelled at me that the only thing that was making him angry was that I kept asking if he was angry with me.

Nothing like being a little tetchy.

If it were only me in this equation, I could probably deal with it. Eric would have spells like this, and I'd try to ride them out as best I could. They'd end.

I keep telling myself that this, too, shall pass.

In the meantime, it's hell for Patrick. He's been confused and upset by what seems to be a total change in attitude on Langly's part. Used to be, Langly couldn't wait to get home, pick him up, play with him, cuddle him at bedtime. And Patrick looked forward to his arrival as the best part of the day.

In the last three days, he's stopped asking when Daddy's coming home. And he's starting to cry a lot more, and he's irritable as hell. And he's not the easiest child at the baseline. He cries for his daddy, and for his other daddy, and doesn't understand why the hell everybody is like this.

Wish I knew, Patrick.

I try to make up for it. I play with him a lot, and since I have no child care, I've been forced to take him to work with me. I cringed at the thought of this.

To my surprise, he was fascinated-and shockingly well-behaved. Not to mention that he was the darling of the students in the seminar. I brought a laptop to keep him amused, but he mostly amused the students.

And Dana is very tolerant of him, even though at moments he starts to fidget and talk. She suggested, however, that perhaps Mulder and their nanny would be willing to take him.

I normally don't work on Fridays, but Dana has a faculty meeting today. It's short, maybe two hours, but Patrick is not likely to be a welcome presence here. So I drive him out to Silver Springs, where he joins the little Mulder girls for an afternoon of fighting over toys.

Personally, I think Becca is good for him. She cuts him no slack.

Like Miranda, someday she will terrorize all her boyfriends. If her father doesn't do it first.

Maricia, their new nanny, seems to think he is utterly adorable when she meets him. I'm wondering if she'll feel the same way in a few hours. Patrick is as cute as they come, and he's taxing as hell.

She'll work for her money this afternoon.

I ask if Mulder's seeing patients, she says no, Dr. Mulder has a headache, he's lying down.

The headaches. He seems to be getting worse.

And what frightens me is that Miranda has begun to bow to her genetic legacy and she's started getting them as well. I wish there were more options available to her in terms of medication, but for now, I'm forcing her to make do with Excedrin. Two weeks into the new term, and she's missed two days of school already. This is very unlike her, and it concerns me. Miranda, a child who literally has to be barred from going to school when she is ill, has already been absent twice. It's not a good trend.

Hard on the rest of us as well. When she's got a headache, she can't tolerate any light or noise. She basically shuts herself in her room with the lights off and no media. This from a girl who keeps the TV on normally so she has background noise.

Today is one of those days, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to exercise some professional skills again. The only difficulty is, Dana requested captioning for this one, and I'm so out of practice that I had to spend the last two days getting back into it with some practice tapes. This only increased Patrick's crabbiness, as I was not able to get out and swim and kick the soccer ball around and go skating. I taught him to roller blade. He's good. He falls a lot, but this is because he pushes himself, trying to go longer and faster and on steeper slopes than the time before. Thank God for padding and crash helmets. I speak for myself as well on this. I'm not 25 anymore.

Hell, I'm not even 45 anymore. Falling down is not the problem. Getting back up is.

A metaphor for my existence.

I'm not as patient as I once was. Earlier in the week, I was helping Juliet pack items-they're moving tomorrow-and of course I had Patrick in tow. His idea of helping us was to unpack everything we so carefully prepared. I had to restrain myself from choking him.

Not unlike his uncle/father. They're so alike, it scares me sometimes.

At least Patrick is affectionate, though. As miserable as he's been, he still wants to crawl in your lap and snuggle, for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

I love him so much. He arouses so many primal emotions in me. Not unlike another tall blonde in my life.

I wish I could arouse some emotions in him, but for all practical purposes, I seem to be nonexistent to him. I'm starting to feel more like the housekeeper instead of the wife.

At least today, I can get out and show that I haven't completely fallen into disuse. This is heartening.

I need something that is.
 

The meeting runs about ninety minutes. Dana seems to be having a hard time concentrating; I can tell she is doubling her efforts.

She is distressed about her speech, which is becoming less intelligible. Lack of auditory reinforcement has that effect. She wants to begin working with a therapist, but she has time constraints that thus far have prohibited this.

And she tells me, after everyone has left the room, that it's not going to get any better.

"I'm pregnant," she announces, in a voice that's flat, devoid of emotion.

I get the feeling that if she were going to inject some feeling into it, it might be more on the side of tears.

"You're what?" She was adamant about no more children, at least not right now. She can barely keep up with the life she has.

"It happened. Again."

"When'd you find out?"

"Yesterday. I'm regular as clockwork, and when I didn't cycle, and the nausea's been gripping me on and off, I finally broke down and faced the inevitable."

She does not look happy about this. Not like the other two times. Even though Sarah came faster than I think she'd hoped, she was still delighted. She felt Sarah was her bonus baby.

"How's Mulder taking it?"

She shakes her wavy copper hair. "He doesn't know yet."

This surprises me. I expected she'd be showing him the pregnancy test as soon as she knew.

"What are you going to do?"

She looks at me as if I've gone insane. "Do? What choice do I have?"

"Well..."

"No. I'm sorry, I do believe life begins at conception, and I couldn't do it." She sighs. "I don't understand my reaction. I should be so grateful for this...thinking I could never have any, and now, I have an embarrassment of riches."

"Maybe the timing's lousy."

"It is. I can just about get through the day as it is."

"Looks like Mulder hired a nanny to help him out."

Shake of the head again. "No, I hired Maricia. He was against it, but now, I think it was a premonitory action..." she laughs a little, but it's not a laugh filled with cheer. "And he's getting more clients, and we really need the help as is."

"That's good, that he's getting clients."

"I'm not sure about that. I don't think he's crazy for this kind of work. The kind of people Mulder would prefer to work with, though, I can't have them coming to our home."

"Maybe he should get an office."

Adamant shake of the head. "Absolutely not. I don't mind if he wants an outside office, but you never know about the sort of clients that...interest him most. It would jeopardize the girls, and we can't have it."

I know what Mulder's preferred clients are...serial killers. Mutilation artists. Rapists. Kidnappers. People who do what the voices tell them to do.

Instead, he's stuck with a bunch of suburban neurotics whom he'd probably just as soon kick their asses as treat them.

Maybe he does it in a more subtle fashion. Somehow, though, I can see Mulder getting annoyed with somebody's seemingly trivial problems and just reading them the riot act.

"He's trying to get outside work, an academic appointment...but the last interview he had, he was told, Jews are not being hired."

"That's illegal as hell."

"It is. Try to make a claim." She looks at me steadily. "I think that's why your admission at CU was rescinded, Ally."

"Maybe. My sisters-in-law were down a couple weeks ago, Eric's sisters. We've all been laid off or disadmitted in some form...and the only thing we could come up with that was a common thread was, we're all Jewish. Of course, we might be being overly paranoid about it-"

"I don't think so. Look at all the people we know. Mulder. You. Skinner. Ellen. Your sisters-in-law. And God knows how many more. What's the commonality in this group?"

"We all worked for the FBI?"

"Not your sisters-in-law."

"True. Well, I'll concede, we're all Jewish-"

"And God knows if I had the time, I'd be looking into it-I know Mulder is, when he's got a free moment, and he doesn't have many of those...and he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to have a lot fewer of them."

She looks totally depressed. "I have so much work to do, I don't have enough staff-you know I've put Kelly on the bench, don't you?"

"She mentioned that."

"And that's in addition to her regular duties. And I hate doing it, because it's important for her to get good grades. I'm just hoping she's getting something out of it."

"She seems to think it's helping her in organic chemistry."

"I hope so. I don't want her getting distracted. She has a lot of promise, and she needs to see that promise fulfilled."

"She seems focused."

"She does, but lately, I've caught her crying in the ladies' room on and off...and when I ask her what's wrong, she just tells me she's fine. I don't know how she could be, losing her mother and sister so recently, but she is doing the work. I'm just concerned because Kelly is normally so controlled, and she seems to have a much more tentative grip on herself these days."

"I see so little of her, I honestly couldn't tell you, Dana. She's either
at work, at school, or with Michael."

"How do they seem to be getting along?"

"When I see them? Fine." I haven't observed any unusual tension between them. Then again, they're very busy, and I don't see them much, particularly with Frohike still hospitalized.

Rumor has it that as long as he has no setbacks, he'll be able to go home on Sunday. I'd be thrilled if he could. I've seen him a few times, and he's made no secret of his discontent at being in the hospital. To any of us. But he does smile a lot-at Martha. I think her being taken on as his private nurse has kept him alive-and I'm not talking about his various and sundry illnesses here. I'm talking about the staff. Michael thought they were close to mutiny when she was hired on.

It's rumored that Byers's father-the penultimate ice brick CEO-actually paid for her services...and got her out of debt.

I think it's just a rumor. I can't imagine that guy doing anything for anyone.

Still, he was in the area, which irritated the hell out of Langly, since it meant that Byers was unavailable for their little...errand they performed for and with Mulder. I don't know what they did, or where they went, or why they did it. And I don't want to. I have a feeling that this is one of those situations where ignorance may be bliss. Or at least give one the ability to continue sleeping at night.

Which my husband no longer does. He still manages to come to bed-eventually-but sleep is another story. I notice I'm a lot more tired than usual.

I don't know how Dana does it. I've been told by all kinds of sources, not the least of which is his wife, that Mulder is an insomniac of legendary proportions. The difference is that while Mulder seems to be able to get by comfortably on a minimal amount of rest, the opposite is true of Langly. A tired Langly is a crabby Langly. And while I finally unloaded my cold, he's
still deep into his. I suspect this is only compounding the situation.

"So when were you going to tell him?"

She sighs. "I know this sounds totally malicious...but I was thinking of springing it on him for his 40th birthday."

I've been told that Mulder is not handling the prospect of 40 well...I wonder how this will go over. It could go both ways. He could be ecstatic...or it could drive him into total depression.

I'd tell him now, but she knows him better than I do, thank God, and she seems able to manage him. If nothing else, she knows doctor tricks, and she can still shoot, I imagine.

"Have you been to see Frohike?"

"I saw him a few days ago," she says, narrowing her eyes. "I think it was Tuesday after work I stopped by."
 
"How do you think he's doing?"

She frowns a little. "Making progress, but very slowly. It's going to take him a long time to recover from this. I'm grateful that he's going to have some help, though; he's going to need a lot of it. And you know how well that's going to go over."

I have an idea. But at least it's Martha helping him. She seems to be calming for him.

I get the dead-on light blue gaze that is unique to Dana Scully-Mulder. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"You just seem...you don't look happy, Ally."

"I'm okay," I lie with aplomb. A lifetime of doing it will make you good at the craft.

"Mulder says Langly's working in a new location. How's he doing there?"

"He...he hates it."

She winces. "There seems to be a lot of that going around. Midlife for men is cruel."

And it's not for women?

Give me a break.

"So are you going to tread lightly on Mulder turning 40?" I ask. I suspect it's something he'd prefer not to be reminded of.

She gives this incredibly wicked grin. "Are you kidding? I'm pulling out the stops."

Oh, fuck no!

"He doesn't know it yet, but I'm in the process of planning a surprise for his 40th, which, of course, I hope you'll include yourself in."

Oh, as if I'd miss it!

"He thinks it's a birthday party we're giving for Becca-which, of course, it is. Since her birthday is on Saturday, that's when it will be held. But Mulder hasn't the slightest idea that it's for him." Her wicked grin turns positively evil.

"Dana, are you trying to kill him?"

She throws back her shining head and laughs, a rare but rich Scully-laugh. "It's the best thing for him. Trust me."

I'm going to have to...

Wait a minute, when I got here, didn't someone once tell me, trust no one?
 

LANGLY:

Thank God it's Friday. I don't think I could stand this week to go on anymore.

Shit! Tomorrow I gotta help Byers move!

Dammit!

Here I was looking forward to lying in bed till some hour Ally says is beyond respectable, and then getting up and just getting lit the entire rest of it. That's about all I got energy for...

But no, tomorrow I'll be helping the soon-to-be newlyweds settle into their love palace.

Don't know why I feel so hateful lately.

Maybe it's the ASSHOLE I work for! I know I shouldn't let him bug me...but every day, same thing. He just grinds me down, I leave here feeling like worse than worthless. Pretty fucking hard to walk out the door and start feeling human again.

You know, I could like this job. Work's interesting, would be more so if I wasn't watched every fucking second, pay's good, but man, the people here, they suck. It's like nobody talks to you. I mean, I used to have good times with Goldie and Bryce and Richard. We'd bust up and make it go. Even after Sheridan was gone, we'd still have fun times.

Not here. I'm dying here.

If I had half a functioning brain left, I'd quit.

But no, I gotta be stupid and have the pride thing going on. It's like, I quit, I let them win...and who's to say they'd let me quit? Bryce tried, didn't work. And I've been told, explicitly and implicitly, that I get to quit when they say I do, and only when they say I do.

I sent the guys all e-mail. I'm kind of bummed because only one that wrote back was Richard. He won't say what he's up to, for all I know he could be down the hall, but at least he said he was alive. I got no idea what's up with Bryce and Goldie. Goldie, I mean, I was expecting his usual I-want-to-sleep-with-your-wife opener (he really is hot for Ally, and he'd do it in a second, but hey, can't say I blame him), but nada.

Sucks. Thought we were sort of friends.

I used to look forward to quitting time big time. It was like, real life, here I come!

Now, it's more like, I just wanna go home and melt into oblivion. I love my wife and kids, but they take energy...and I just don't have any right now. Which really sucks.

Maybe once I get rid of this stupid cold, I'll be more like myself.

Horrifying thought, but better than this.

And I'm real pissed because Frohike's been in lockdown for like three weeks now, and I've seen him exactly twice, both times from the doorway. Just because I got a cold, I can't see him.

I need to see him. It's like Junior sees him all the time and tells me what's up, and yeah, he sounds like he's been something of a bastard, but at least let him be a bastard to my face, then I'll know things are okay. Sort of, anyway.

I got two more things to finish up, and Zupan-prick just announced that His Highness was leaving for the day, so I get to go home soon.

This oughta make me happy, but mostly, it just makes me...

Tired.

END OF PART 40