Disclaimers in part 1
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"A healthy touch of paranoia makes it that much more difficult for your enemies to get to you."

~~Patricia Wallace -- Dark Intent~~
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FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 2000
LONE GUNMEN HQ
4:50 PM

LANGLY:

"How was your trip?" Byers asks Deb. This is so good; she's got her arm around me and I got mine around her. I can't believe how good this feels.

"My trip? Um... well... I think it was fine. I don't really remember all that much of it."

Byers raises his eyebrows. He looks a little worried. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Oh, let's see, this is Friday, right?"

"It's definitely Friday. I know 'cause you're here." I pull her up to me for another kiss. I don't give a fuck what Byers thinks. Let him be jealous. Serves him right.

"I think..." Deb's brain is totally fried. "I think I took a nap for a little while on Tuesday."

"Well, well, if it isn't the lovely Dr. SaintJohn," Frohike's risen from the dead, like some movie zombie, and just as ugly. He takes my girl's hand and kisses it. She should wash it; she has no idea where that mouth has been.

"I'm off the clock guys, it's just Deborah," she laughs. Then she leans over and whispers in my ear, "but it's just Deb, for you." Oh God, I'm just about to melt, I'm so hot here.

"You're looking a little tired there, young lady," Frohike frowns at her.

"I'm fine. I'm used to not sleeping much." Good, cause I got plans. I did remember to stock up on condoms, just like she asked. Byers is such a bastard -- he said when I brought them home, 'you really think you're going to use that many? They do have an expiration date, you know.' Fuck him. I am so going to get even with him.

"Maybe you should rest," Byers suggests. I'm going to smack that bastard, bad eye or not. I think they're both conspiring to get her away from me.

"I'm fine," Deb says, even though she's yawning.

"Want something to eat?" Frohike offers.

"No. I stopped at the Taco Bell drive through before I got on 95. So thanks, but I'm not hungry right now."

"You are going to feed her better than that, now, aren't you, Langly?" Byers winks at me. So help me, I will kill him.

"Um, I like, I gotta put sheets on the bed," I tell Deb. "You wanna come with?" You think I'm leaving her out here with these two losers? They'll tell her all kinds of nasty shit about me, and if they can't think of something, they'll make it up.

"Sure, but I'm not sure how much help I'll be. The nurses are the ones that know how to do everything," she says, and laughs. I pick up the bag of laundry I dropped when I saw her.

"Speaking of nurses, have you seen Ms. Scarlett lately?" Frohike seems like he's almost embarrassed when he asks. Ah, opportunity knocks.

"Hey, you keep an eye on your lady friend, I'll keep an eye on mine. C'mon, babe." Anything to get away from these two bozos. They are so gonna fry for this. "Sorry about the guys. They can be real jerks," I apologize about Frohike and Byers when we get in my room.

"I thought they were very sweet," Deb says. She's helping me put the sheets on. "Wow, these are nice, Ringo. They're so soft." Okay, so maybe Byers knows a few things I don't. But that doesn't give him the right to be a perfect asshole.

"Thought you might like something nice. I mean, I know our digs aren't much..."

"They look fine to me. I'm glad you warned me about the building, though. It does look a bit creepy from the outside." She smiles. "It's a rather colorful neighborhood, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, rent's cheap here."

"I like it. I have no desire to have some boring white suburban practice. Urban medicine is where the action is." Well, I knew that, we talk about it a lot. Deb likes the rush. She says it's hard, working so many hours and being under so much pressure, but she's an adrenaline junkie. We finish the bed with the coup de grace, a white goose down comforter. God, I gotta thank Sari for this, she knew exactly what to get. Now if she could just beat some manners into the other guys, or at least Byers, she'd have my undying thanks for the rest of my natural life.

"Wanna check it out?" I ask her, and then I go red. What a lousy line. I am such a fucking idiot.

But she's cool and she gives me a big smile. "It looks really comfortable. Sure." So we both flop down on the bed. This is awesome. I mean, it could be a bed of nails as far as I'm concerned, and it'd still be great; I finally got my girl in my arms. She's so warm and soft, I finally got her right up against me. I can't help it; I totally want her already, and my body is busy reminding me -- as though I need a reminder.

"Mmm, Ringo, this is wonderful..." Oh man, ain't it? She snuggles up into me and it feels so good. She's got her arms around me. I start to give her a kiss, and... shit! She's sound asleep. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but hey, if she's tired, might as well let her snooze. I cover her up with some of the giant comforter. At least it'll put off the inevitable, which is having her see what an asshole I am. I wonder if I can postpone that one indefinitely.

FROHIKE:

Byers and I are taking bets on how long it'll be before Deborah slides into unconsciousness. Langly emerges from his bedroom about ten minutes after they disappeared. Byers has an evil grin on his face. Looks like he's been feeling his oats today. About time. "She already bored with you, Ringo?" he asks; he's won the bet, of course -- I’d been willing to give her another five minutes before meltdown. Guess I owe Narcboy ten bucks. Langly looks mortified, but I'm about to take my own potshot in this shooting match. The boy's been asking for it for months now.

"Or are you just so out of practice that you're done already?" Oooh. Score one for me, as our erstwhile lover-boy turns a bright shade of crimson. Byers is trying hard to repress a snicker behind one hand, but he's not doing it very well. He's making this hissing sound, like he's got a leak.

"For your information, she's been awake for days and was really tired. I offered her a nice, comfy place to sleep," Langly counters. Not a bad save, but we've got all night. Johnny and I have both been waiting a long time for this opportunity. Blondie's been driving us both up a wall since we brought him home from the hospital. I suspect that Byers' unconcealed delight in tormenting him is the result of spending all that time with Langly in his face while he was so wrecked about Susanne. I can't say as I blame him.

"Well, that's good, because we've got work to do tonight anyway."

"We do?" Langly looks puzzled.

"Black Widow," I remind him.

"Oh, yeah. Right." He nods, glad to have something to do to take his mind off of his slumbering sweetie.

"Anything I can do?" Byers asks. It'll be another day or two before his doc releases him for a little while every day of reading large type, and watching tv or movies, but he'll still be able to lend us a hand with this. He's the best of us at sorting through mounds of information and finding the patterns and connections. We'd have been dead years ago without his sharp mind keeping us ahead of our enemies. Langly and I have missed him a lot while he's been out of commission, though we'd never say so in front of him. Wouldn't want him to get too full of himself, after all.

"Always," I tell him. Langly's too busy getting our equipment set up for silent running to say anything at all. "We'll keep you up with what we're doing. You got any suggestions, make 'em. You know Black Widow's reputation. None of us wants to face a pile of slag at the end of the evening."

"Right," Byers says, enthusiastic. It isn't like he's had much to do lately, except keep company with Sari. I'd make a comment about that, but right now, hassling Langly's far too much fun.

"Backseat hacker," Langly mutters.

"Yeah, but I saved your ass the other day," Byers reminds him. Not quite true, but he did make several very useful suggestions that made things easier for both of us. John's nothing if not efficient. It's good to have him back. I still think Sari's had a lot to do with that.

We settle in for a good cat and mouse session, tracking down recent signs of Black Widow's activity. Aside from us having to read stuff off the screen for Byers, it's just like it used to be -- lightning fingers on keyboards, devastating banter, insults to the kung fu of our victim, moments of tension and sweat, laughter, and the excitement of the pursuit. A few hours later, we find that we've been chasing a false trail for the last twenty minutes. "Shit," Langly says. "I thought we had him for sure."

"We couldn't get that lucky in one shot," Byers says with a stretch and a sigh. He's right. People have been chasing Black Widow for years now, including us. At one point, we'd made a slight slip up, and for a while we had Black Widow tracking us, but thanks to Langly's good old loop line shunt standby, we lost him in the US West system before he could ID us. We did, however, learn a good bit about his defenses when we ran into him, and we'll have a better chance next time we go in. We're thinking he may be based in Arizona, if what we got is correct. If nothing else, it helps to narrow down our search parameters.

"I could really use a break," Langly says, standing up and stretching.

"Yeah, a cup of java would do me some good," I reply, heading for the kitchen.

"So what's for dinner?" Byers asks.

"I haven't decided yet," I say, "but I'll rummage around and see what I can do."

"What, you're not going to teach Langly to cook?" I think I can see where Byers is going with this.

"Yeah, I should. After all, Blondie, you're gonna have to show your lady love that you can give her more than just net sex."

Langly turns on me like a cornered dog. "Oh, no way. You can't do this to me."

My eyes narrow and a grin spreads across my face. "Wanna bet?" At that moment, the door buzzer goes off. "Who the fuck could that be?"

Langly laughs. "Saved by the bell," he crows, going to check out the monitor. "It's Mulder. Hey, Mulder, whatcha doin' here? Scully throw you out?"

"I'm bored," Mulder says, looking up at the security camera.

"What," I ask him, "you can't think of anything else to do, so you show up here?"

"Yeah. I figured it was about dinner time." The boy always did have an incredible sense of timing where free meals were concerned. I look at Langly.

"You're in luck," I tell him, motioning for Langly to open the door. "Langly's cooking dinner tonight."

"Whaaat?" Mulder's face is awash in surprise as the door is opened. "You've got to be kidding. Mister 'no, really, it's chicken' here?" He steps inside and Langly closes the door, grumbling.

"They think they're gonna get me to cook because Deb's here."

"She is? Well, where is this bombshell you've been talking about all this time?" Mulder looks around.

"She's asleep," Byers says with a smirk.

"And I thought *I* was bored," Mulder says.

"Hey, she hasn't slept since Tuesday!" Langly whines.

"C'mon, Blondie, let's introduce you to the kitchen," I tell him, grabbing his wrist so he can't get away. Byers and Mulder are both laughing now. At least Mulder will find us mildly entertaining this evening. And he'll get to suffer through Langly's attempt at providing sustenance.

BYERS:

Frohike kidnaps Langly and holds him captive in the kitchen. Mulder and I park it at the kitchen table; I don't want to miss this show. Mulder helps himself to a beer. "And where is the scrumptious Agent Scully?" Frohike asks

Mulder, as usual, doesn't answer. "What've you boys been up to? Haven't heard much from you the last few days."

"Well, we did manage to train another Suzy Homemaker," Frohike points to Langly. "No, not that knife, that one. Yes, it matters." Poor Langly looks even more confused than he did earlier today.

"Scully got a date?" Langly decides to get his licks in, too. Of course, Mulder won't take the bait.

"What's for chow?" he asks. I'm with him; enquiring minds want to know, especially if this might be my last meal. If I sound cynical, it's only because Langly has been known to burn water. The inability  to get a pot of water to boil without destroying the pot is a sure sign that the kitchen is indeed the most dangerous room in the home, for some more than others. Langly's at the top of the hazard list.

"I figured we'd make it easy and go for some Chernobyl Chili," Frohike announces. Now, if Frohike were the cook, I'd be salivating wildly. Frohike has a vast variety of chili incarnations, all of them named after nuclear incidents, all delicious. Chernobyl is one of his more basic, emphasizing heat rather than complexity. We won't discuss retainability here, in the name of common decency. "Get the leftover turkey, Langly, and cut it into chunks."

"Actually, we've been pretty busy the last couple of days," I tell Mulder, temporarily diverting us from the sideshow at the stove. "Frohike and Langly have been doing some work over at the Sierra Club."

"Sari pull you a sweet deal?" Mulder wags his eyebrows at me. She pulled a mid-five-figure sweet deal, all right, but it wasn't exactly for me -- I can't help, much as I want to.

"Some sweet deal, now that the fun stuff's done," Frohike snorts. "Langly, watch it, you want enough chili powder but not too much. I don't think Byers needs his sinuses blown out anymore. No, yesterday, SCI took a nasty hit from somebody who doesn't like what they're saying about Pinck. Really mucked up their system bad. Sari went to the boss man, told him she knew some folks who could turn water into wine, and the guy was desperate enough to give us a shot."

"Yeah, only reason he's still got his job today," Langly chimes in. I suspect there's more truth than fiction in that. From what the guys said, Sari was in less than wonderful condition when she arrived to discuss it with them, and the chaos in the office there was primordial.

"Cut away from yourself, boy, or you'll have to wake your chickadee up for a house call," Frohike criticizes Langly's cutting technique. "What a mess. We managed to restore their basic systems, but there's still a hell of a lot of cleanup to be done. That'll be the boring part. We did a video tutorial this morning for the regional offices, which was probably not exactly what the crowd was expecting," he's glaring at Langly, "and then Monday we'll go in, help them out with some more of the dirty work."

"Correction. You're going Monday. I got company," Langly reminds him.

"Fine. Then I get to keep your money." Frohike can be very persuasive. "No, that's not how you chop an onion. *This* is how you chop an onion." Mulder tries not to laugh but shoots beer from his nose anyway. No one has ever accused us of running a classy joint. Now you understand why. I rest my forehead in my hand and shake my head.

"So what's this about Pinck? What's going on?" Mulder asks when he's recovered enough to get some paper towels and another beer.

"We think Pinck hired someone to hit Sierra," Frohike says, a belief that we all share. "It smells of hired hit. He was the one who got Sari's computer before the hearing, and another place that was building a website on genetic experimentation."

"Friend of yours?" Mulder asks. Not an improper question, considering our avocation.

"Definitely not a friend, but we know who it is. Well, we know him from his nym. Black Widow," I tell him.

Mulder's eyes grow wide. "Whoa, boys, the Bureau's been trying to bring this guy down forever. What've you got on him?"

"Not enough, unfortunately," I say. "We were tailing him for a while before you arrived but he got wind of us and started trying to backtrack us. We had to get out before our system went down in flames. If there's anything from the Bureau files you can get for us that you think might help, we'd appreciate it."

"How many recent confirmed hits do you have from him, then?" Mulder asks. "And what about this website that got nailed? How's this related?"

"At least those three, but I suspect we could find more if we spent time searching," I reply. "The website seems to have been set up by an insider at Pinck, although there was information from other outside projects as well. There are signs of Pinck working on covert animal and human genetic experimentation at the Midwest test site that Sari's trying to close down. There's also a chance that we may have found a contact who can give us information about their offshore operations. We won't know more until we can get closer to Black Widow, though. I think we've narrowed our search to somewhere in Arizona. It's going to get harder and more dangerous from here on in. If he figures out that we're the ones tracing him, it could get dicey." The thought makes me uneasy.

"We're just gonna have to be a lot more careful," Langly comments. I agree. I wish I'd been able to see properly tonight, I might have saved us a few close calls. The time gap between the guys reading to me and my reaction is much larger than being able to do my own work on my own keyboard. In what we do, every microsecond counts, and being identified could lead to our being exposed, or even killed.

Mulder looks wary. "You boys know what Pinck's capable of as well. Stay low and cover your asses as much as you can. I don't want you in any more trouble than you've already had lately, and I sure as hell don't want to be making any more hospital visits to any of you. I'll see what I can do about getting you some Bureau information in the next couple of days, but Langly's right; be careful."

"Speaking of careful, watch it with the cumin, or it'll overwhelm the flavor; you only need a little." Thank God Frohike is supervising the kitchen operations, or there wouldn't be any food tonight. "I'm going to toss on a little cornbread, gentlemen."

My stomach is starting to rumble, and it isn't the antibiotics. I'm not over the pain yet, or the sinus infection, but they're much reduced in the past few days, and I expect the worst of it will be over by Monday or Tuesday. I'm definitely feeling more like myself these days. Feeling like chasing a turncoat hacker, and nailing his ass to the wall, in fact. I can't wait until I can read on my own. Only another three weeks, at most. It's so good to be alive again.

End part 10