"Gods, what shall I think? Amazement beyond hope..."

Euripides, "Alcestis," Line 1123. Translation by Richmond Lattimore. Used without permission.
 

FROHIKE:

Granted, I'd love a cheese omelet with hash browns and bacon cooked crisp, but I can't argue the merits of a fruit-topped Belgian waffle (on the approved list, and delicious). And the champagne became a non-issue-everyone passed. It's a sober brunch, but not in the least bit solemn.

How could it be? We have so many entertaining personalities here at this table.

Mulder is like a small child waiting to go on vacation here. I guess he likes weddings. He's coloring in the pictures that the waitress provided for the small ones in the party. This prompted him to complain that he didn't get a placemat and crayons. Fortunately, our waitress is one of those that's seen everything, and she didn't even blink at this request. He's happily involved with his two daughters and Patrick, who are all having a coloring contest.

I just hope he doesn't throw a tantrum if he doesn't win. Miranda is the judge, and she's notable for her ruthlessness.

Langly and Allison seem to be reliving a little bit of their own wedding, only a year and a half ago-in some ways, it seems like it's been much longer. I guess a wealth of experiences will do that to you. They seem to be whispering to each other frequently, punctuated by giggles, and accompanied by kisses. This causes Miranda to periodically roll her eyes and admonish them to behave, but I think she's only half serious right now. She's quiet in the early part of the brunch, but once she's had a double cappucino, she's charged and ready, and announces that her 16th birthday is one week away-and her driver's license is right on its heels.

Oh God. I think in a way I'm glad I missed that part. There's no terror like kids and cars, unless it's kids, cars and alcohol. Her repeated mentioning of this is giving Langly a major attack of the willies, and she's pouring it on, having fun watching him in the first stages of a nervous breakdown.

"I want Dana to teach me," she announces, and this causes the entire table to gasp in horror.

Allison has signed this to her, and in spite of his attempts to capture the crown in the coloring contest, Mulder has managed to translate everything going on around her, and her older daughter as well.

"No, you don't," Mulder warns her.

"Yes, I do," Miranda retorts back.

We cringe at this thought. We've all seen the scrumptious Dana Scully-Mulder drive, and it's not pretty.

"Either that, or Aunt Lydia."

"Oh, God, what a choice," Allison moans. "Maybe you could pick somebody who drives a little slower. Like Richard Petty."

Dana is amused by Miranda's imaginary selection of her as driving instructor.

"Hey, you think I'm gonna let Scully teach our girls to drive?" Mulder says, somehow signing, coloring, and drinking coffee, all at the same time.

"You think I'd let you teach them?" she retorts back.

"Hey, Scully? How many times have I ever been wrong? At least about driving!"

Dana rolls her eyes as to say, why do I put up with this?

Because you love him, and you need him every bit as much as he needs you. And that's on par with oxygen.

"Maybe Beldar Conehead's still in business," Mulder suggests, and this causes the entire table to dissolve into the old routines from 'Saturday Night Live.' I confess, I loved the Coneheads. There was something so...suburban about them, in contrast to their reality as a totally off-the-wall family.

Not unlike how we all are here today.

This thread is woven into a massive set of SNL routines, with Mulder taking the lead in most, Langly in a few. Mulder does a better GoatBoy than Mike Myers. I still hate the character. But I nearly burst my scars when Mulder and Langly do dialogue from 'Wayne's World,' and there are tears in everyone's eyes, and nobody dares to take a drink of anything, lest it come pouring out their nose.

We're like a large, extended family here, celebrating life and love, just like normal people do.

Maybe it isn't that we're not just like one, but that we've become one.

"So Frohike Junior, looks like you're next," Mulder yells to him-they're only six feet apart, maybe, but they seem to have the young-boy tendency to say everything at the top of their lungs today.

"Yeah, unless my dad beats me to it."

I almost drop my fork, and even Martha pauses as she's eating her fruit, long neglected through all the SNL silliness.

"Hey, something you're not telling us?" Langly looks as if, you know something I don't, and it's pissing me off.

"Trust me, we're not hiding anything," Martha assures them.

"We haven't even discussed it," I add.

"Yeah, but I bet you thought about it," Kelly chimes in mischievously, her big blue eyes lit up like Christmas lights.

I look at Martha. She looks at me.

Martha Frohike?

It could work.

"Hey, toast to the prof, since it's his day," Michael yells out. I wish that boy would learn to keep it down a bit. Both my kids could wake the dead when they get going.

"He's not even here, what fun is it to insult him behind his back?" Mulder protests.

"Well, we'll say nice things about him here, then we'll insult him at the wedding, to his face," Michael decides.
 
We raise glasses. "To Byers and Juliet. Love and happiness. I'm not very original," Michael shrugs as he proposes the toast.

"Original isn't everything," Dana assures him. "Although they broke the mold when they came up with him." She points an index finger at Mulder. He responds with an innocent, who-me expression he can do so well. I think he practices it in front of the mirror.

"Toast to Dana and Mulder. I wouldn't be here in the first place if it weren't for them," Allison lifts her glass.

I think about that one. Her life has been a crazed jumble since the death of her first husband. I wonder if she longs for her quiet life in southern California at times.

Then she gazes up at the Blonde Boy, and if she has doubts about the turns her life has taken, they seem to all dissolve when she looks at him. She has that look women get-tender, passionate, protective, and vulnerable-when they're in love.

The same way Martha looks at me.

Of course, they wink at each other and giggle. At least they stay true to form.

"Yeah, I gotta go with that one, or I wouldn't have Ally and Randa here. And a toast to Ally and Randa." Langly's grinning, and he and Miranda stick their tongues out at each other. So much maturity between those two.

So much affection. I just hope he's been able to help her in these times, which for her have been very troubled indeed.

I hope she's not drinking.

I lift my glass. "To my son and Kelly. I know I'm kind of a curmudgeon, but I love you both. I wish you every happiness."

Are those tears in the corners of my son's eyes? Or are his contacts just bothering him?

He blinks, and smiles at me, pure love and gratitude.

"Thanks," he says, very softly, as we all toast them.

"And finally, one for Martha and what's his name here. Hope it doesn't take you as long as it took Scully and me to figure it out." Mulder's smiling, and he winks at me, knowingly.

"Yeah, when're you guys gonna do it?" Langly chimes in.

"Oh, come now, don't embarrass them!" Ally lightly punches him-in his ailing arm.

I gaze at Martha as we're toasted. She is so beautiful...

Maybe someday. Maybe not too far into someday.

"And one for my dad, for not dying on us," Michael throws in. I feel a catch in my throat. "Don't ever scare us like that again."

"Yeah, we'll kill you if you go and die on us," Langly adds, and the table breaks down into raucous laughter.

"I need at least one gentleman in my life," Dana Scully-Mulder looks at me, smiling sweetly.

"Why, what's wrong with me?" Mulder's wearing his hurt-puppy look again.

"Mulder, I said I needed a gentleman in my life. Then there's you."

"No respect for the wicked," Mulder sighs dramatically.

"You get at least as much as you deserve," Michael tells him, laughing.

"Yeah, who'd help me with my homework?" Miranda looks at me.

"Hey, we help you!" Langly looks mildly affronted.

"Not like Frohike does," she taunts back.

"You've always been there for me," Allison's voice is soft, but I can hear her words distinctly.

"Fuck that, he's always there for all of us," Langly says, a lot more loudly than his wife.

"Yeah, back in the days when we had to settle for downloads, he was always there for me," Mulder concurs.

I'm glad Martha knows about some of my...interests. I wouldn't want to have her find out about it this way.

"Yeah, like who else'd put me up?" Michael says, his voice teasing, but his eyes soft.

"Hey, we let you ruin one mattress," Langly hassles him back.

"Shut up, Langly. Or I'll tell EVERYBODY about what you did in Mulder's van!"

Oh Christ. What DID he do in Mulder's van?

"Yeah, Langly, don't forget, he's got goodies on you now," Mulder's enjoying this...although he suddenly seems to be a bit squirmy.

"And you're a good friend, Melvin," Jo's been quiet, mostly talking to Skinner, but she says this gently, and with a grateful smile.

"I think they're trying to tell you you need to stick around there, Frohike," the measured tones of Walter Skinner sum it up.

Martha says nothing, but takes my hand gently under the table, and gives it a warm squeeze.

"Hey Dad, we're not trying to be mushy or anything-" Michael pipes up.

"But we are," Kelly slips in.

"And we'll deny this under oath, of course," Mulder assures me.

"Yeah, we're nuts, but know what?" Langly winks at me.

"We love you, Dad."

"Yeah, stay well, Frohike," Mulder.

"You remember what I said now," Langly reminds me. He's smiling, but he looks just a little bit scared, too.

"And you have to dance with me at Michael's and my wedding," Kelly says. "You're the only dad I have."

Oh Christ, I think I'm going to cry here.

"To my dad." Michael raises his glass, and everyone else raises theirs, and calls me by whatever name I go by in their book.

"To Melvin." "To Frohike." "To Mr. Frohike." "To Unca Fwoiky." Even the little ones are into this.

And on my side, her skin warm against mine, is Martha.

I don't know that I ever felt so loved in my entire life.

And I have felt loved before.

Maybe this is what they mean by the tenth wave, because right now, if I don't get out of here, the tenth wave is going to wash right over me and bring tears to my eyes.

I love them all so much.

I will be here for them.
 

"Hate to break it to you guys, but it's 3:30, and we have a wedding to get to." Dana Scully-Mulder is the one that finally announces this. No doubt she is exhausted by now-her daughters have been shockingly well-behaved for the duration of the brunch, but they're bored and restless now. Rebecca running around is an accident waiting to happen, even at this quiet time of the day in food service.

"Shit, it's that late?" Allison looks alarmed. "C'mon, guys, we've got to move."

"You did get your tux, didn't you?" I admonish Langly.

He flips a thumb in Allison's direction. "She made me get up early and pick it up."

Allison cackles harshly. "Early?"

"Yeah, it was early!"

"In whose universe? It was eleven when you finally pulled your good-looking ass out of bed, and only because I made you!"

They could bicker like this for hours, but Miranda's reminding them that she has a date to worship at the altar of the hair gods, and for a nearly-16-year-old girl, to not do your hair before a wedding is a sacrilege.

"Why don't you give him a haircut?" I say to her, pointing at her stepfather.

"I'd like to keep eating and living indoors, thank you," she tells me.

"Mulder? You did get yours, didn't you?"

"Frohike, you're an old mother hen! Don't worry, I'm set."

Dana looks at him sharply. "I didn't see any tux in your closet."

"Scully, don't worry, okay?"

I don't like the sound of this...
 

Martha and I step into the harsh afternoon sunlight.

Byers and Juliet will be married at sunset, and they will have a beautiful one tonight.

"That was fun," she says, smiling brightly.

"It was." It was amusing as hell-and touching.

"Were you listening to them, Mel?"

"Yes, I was, love."

We step into my car, and she looks at me. "No. Did you really listen to them?"

"I did."

"Mel, they're all just so relieved that you're alive and all right. And they don't want to lose you. And neither do I." She extends her hand to me, and I clasp it.

I run my hand over her left hand, now empty of a ring.

I think I'd like to put on one her hand. Her small, capable fingers would look lovely with a simple diamond solitaire.

"You won't."

She smiles at me tenderly. "C'mon. We're ready to take dressing up to a new level."
 

This is definitely a bonus. I get to watch her undress, and then dress again. We don't have a lot of time, but I still want to watch her, every move she makes, the way she slips her simple earrings in her ears, the way she unhooks her bra, pulls a sweater over her head...

She's chosen emerald green for this occasion. And it's wonderfully flattering.

A patterned emerald skirt matches the silky, soft sweater she has selected. It's a modest garment, but suggests at a slight naughtiness on the part of the wearer, with the skirt slit above the knee and her V in the sweater displaying just enough cleavage to tease. I'm wishing the sweater wasn't quite so long-I adore her ass, and the sweater covers it, but I can touch it while we dance, and it will be our secret.

She looks positively ravishing.

"My turn," she says, grinning at me.

Not this time. This is one instance where I want her to see the results, not the strategy.

"Don't go anywhere," I tell her, and vanish into the bathroom.
 

MICHAEL:

Kelly's dressed-she's remarkably efficient at getting ready. Right now Miranda's working on her hair. She promised it would be simple, just loose curls pulled at the back.

God, she's gorgeous.

I finish putting on my tux while Miranda's working her magic. Should've probably asked her to trim mine, but it's really not that bad, and she's got her hands full, what with herself and Kelly and her mom and Blonde Boy.

Second time I've worn a tux, but first time Kelly's ever seen me in one. Hope she likes it.

She pops in the room just as I'm hooking on my tie-this thing is gonna strangle me-and I can hear her gasp.

I turn and look at her, and I have the same reaction.

Oh. My. God.

She looks just so incredible.

"Michael...oh God, you look soooo good in a tux!"

"Think so?" I'm hoping she's not just saying that.

"Oh, boy...you better watch it tonight, Michael."

Kelly, only thing I'm gonna be watching is you.
 

LANGLY:

God, I hate formalwear. I know, it's not like I got to wear it all that much, but it's such a pain in the ass. Even worse when you got a broken arm.

Plus, what's with the fake buttons? How do these suckers work?

"Ally, help."

She's getting dressed, putting on her bridesmaid dress (would you call her a bridesmatron because she's married? I mean, you got a matron of honor if the girl's married, and a maid if she's not, so what's with the bridesmaid thing?)

"What's wrong?"

"These buttons. I can't remember how they work."

"I hope I can."

She hooks me up, once she figures it out.

"Mommy, Daddy, I'm ready!" Patrick's hammering on the door.

"Just a minute," Ally finishes me up, and opens up the door for him. He comes bounding in.

"See? I dressed myself!"

He's got on his Godzilla T-shirt and a pair of Levis.

Ally doesn't try to make the kid do dorksville, but I think she had something a little better in mind for him.

"Patrick, you had other clothes you were supposed to wear," Ally tells him. "Go put them on."

Shakes his head. "Don't wanna."

"You have to." Uh-oh. Both of 'em are stubborn as hell.

Not that I would know from stubborn, of course.

"Don't wanna!"

We're quickly coming up on zero hour here, and we're still not done. Ally looks at me.

"The parent police are probably going to arrest me, but I don't care, he can wear what he has on. At least he's clean." She turns to Patrick. "Go play. Get Miranda to comb your hair."

"Hey, how come he gets to go like that and I don't?" This is simply not fair.

She gives me this heavy martyred look. "Isn't there a law against more than one four-year-old in a single household?"

"Can I at least wear my Docs instead of these things which are gonna kill my toes?"

"LANGLY!"

"What?"

"You are going to be in so much trouble if you don't move your ass!"

"And what kind of trouble could I get in?"

She looks me up and down. "Looking like that, sweetheart, a LOT."

Ooh, I can't wait.
 

MARTHA:

I wish Mel had let me watch him get ready, but he says he'd rather surprise me this time.

I'm seated in the living room, waiting for him to finish up. I've seen him in a suit, and he looks divine.

But in a tux...

Oh my God.

He's got on tails, a top hat, and gloves. And he looks positively...

Dashing.

He holds his hand out for me. "Well?"

"Mel, you look absolutely fabulous."

I can feel my knees turning to mush.

He wraps my shawl around me gently, opens the door for me, and when we get to the car, he opens the door again, and closes it behind me.

I never thought of myself as a romantic. I've always had to be so practical, and romance struck me as a waste of time.

I'm happy to report I was wrong.

And I'm grateful he's driving, because there's no way I can take my eyes off him.

END OF PART 94