Rating: PG

Summary: Blue Monday. It sucks.

Spoilers: None.

The three of us sit around just talking for a while. It's sort of weird. But at least my dad doesn't say too many embarrassing things.

Finally, Kelly says she has to go, she's got to get ready for tomorrow, and I walk her down to her car.

"So are you gonna call any of the people Mulder gave us?" I ask her.

"Yeah. Which ones should I call?"

"Try all of 'em. See who you like best."

"And you'll go."

"Yeah." I'm not happy about this idea, but hey, whatever she needs, I'll do it.

"Thanks."

"It's okay. Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Why?"

"Just want to make sure you're okay."

And that you don't go back to try and see Mom. But I don't say this.

God, I am such a bastard. I don't even trust my own girlfriend.

She says she will, and I watch her take off into the night. It's real cold tonight.

And the thought of getting in bed alone, again, makes me feel even colder.

It's like, I've got all these feelings I can't even put together. It's a mess.

Maybe I ought to go with her.

Hopefully it can't hurt.
 

ALLY:

I'm exhausted.

Miranda and I sit at the kitchen table, eating some El Pollo Loco and talking about Jesse's bad taste in movies.

This from a girl who considers her all-time favorite flick to be "Scream."

Langly's home, tucked in bed, laden with painkillers. I think he's going to be out of it for a while.

I'm ready to join him.

Miranda's worried about her Aunt Joan, and she wants to know how she is. I say she's doing as well as can be expected, and we really won't know if this treatment worked for a couple weeks.

"I hate waiting," she complains.

"Don't we all."

"Hey, can I come in?" Julie sticks her head in the door.

"Sure, have some pollo."

She doesn't grab a plate, or any food, just sits down at the table. "Well, Jo came in to stay with Mom, and I figured I'd go home...I do have to be on the job tomorrow...but I wanted to come by and say hi."

"Wicked Stepfather is out for the count," Miranda informs her.

"Figured as much, but I mostly came to see you," she looks at Miranda. "You put my wardrobe in your computer, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, help me pick out my outfits for this week, could you? I'm not much for fashion, and my decision making capabilities are sort of reduced right now."

"Sure." Miranda likes her expertise called upon. "And we have to do something about your hair...make you look more like a church lady."

"No, no, not Dana Carvey!" Julie squawks, and both she and Miranda crack up. Miranda's watched a lot of Saturday Night Live reruns...I personally find the Church Lady annoying, but Miranda thinks she's funny.

They vanish into the dungeon, and Kelly walks in.

This place is like Grand Central Station sometimes.

I tell her to grab a plate, but she says no, she ate with Michael and 'Mr. Frohike.'

"He's a really good cook," she says. "I mean, you are, too, Ally..."

"Hey, a man needs a hobby. Nothing wrong with feeding people as one. Are you okay?"

She shakes her head. "Not really. We went to see my mom today...she wouldn't talk to me."

"Well, Kelly, that's her loss, isn't it? I'm sorry, she's supposed to be the parent here." I'm not in the mood for loser redneck shit tonight.

I'm not in the mood for anything but sleep. This last week has worn me into a fine powder, and I'm slipping through the holes here.

Kelly looks a bit surprised that I could be so harsh, but she just shrugs and says, "I guess I'm going to counseling...Michael got some names from Mulder."

"Mulder's crazier than a 3-dollar bill, but he knows good people, you'll do all right with them. And I think it's a good idea."

"Michael's going with me."

"Michael cares about you a lot."

"I know."

"And we care about both of you. Kelly, I hate to be such a bitch, but it's been a long day...I'm going to bed."

"How's Langly?"

"Quiet for the moment. At least until this batch of painkillers wears off."

"How long before you know if his sister's okay?"

"Couple weeks. The waiting kills."

"Seems like everyone spends a lot of time waiting, don't they?" She looks sad. "Waiting for this, waiting for that..."

"Well, Kelly, you're lucky. Because you have someone who will always wait for you."

"Michael."

"Yes."

"He's a great guy." She smiles a little.

"And don't forget it." I don't mean to be rough on her, but if she does anything to break his heart...

Go to bed, Allison. You're a bitch.
 

I turn on the lights, thinking I won't wake the sleeping figure in the bed, but he stirs.

"That you?" He asks.

"No, it's Attilla the Hun. Yeah, it's me. Sorry, I'm just tired and bitchy."

"So come lie down by me."

"I'm going to in a minute."

"I need some more Vicodin."

"You just had some two hours ago. You have another two hours to go."

"Yeah, but my side hurts."

I gave him one...I suppose I can give him another one. Dana told me two of them are fine when I took them for my arm.

I hand him the magic white bullet and he downs it gratefully, sinking back into the pillows.

"Hey, Ally? Can you call Sheridan up and tell him I don't think I'm gonna be in tomorrow...I'm kinda sore and I forgot to call him and tell him what's up..."

"Sure, I'll call him."

"Can you call him now?"

"He's not there right now."

"Yeah, but he'll check his voice mail..." He seems to have forgotten that Sheridan's gone missing for a few days.

Besides, maybe he will be back tomorrow, and then he'll wonder where one of his prize employees is, so I pick up the cordless and dial.

I know Sheridan's number by heart, so I'm confused when I get a recording informing me that the number is no longer in service.

This is a Pentagon exchange; why the hell would it be out of service.

I try it again.

Same thing.

Maybe I'd better check my computer.

"Whatcha doing?" Langly asks me, now mostly asleep again.

"Just looking up something. I think I forgot Sheridan's number."

"Oh."

I verify the number in my address book; I must have dialed it incorrectly.

I make another attempt, this time dialing slowly, making certain I hit all the correct digits.

Same response.

Shit. What the hell is going on?

Langly has fallen back down into the land of druggy dreams.

I'm exhausted, and I can't deal with any more shit tonight.

I'll deal with this in the morning.

I crawl in bed next to him, careful not to strike his tender side, and I'm asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow.
 

January 21, 2001

I'm up early, and the first thing I do, even preceding shower and coffee, is try Sheridan's number. Same thing as last night.

Fuck.

Langly's still sound asleep; I don't want to wake him. He slept pretty well most of the night, but around 4 a.m., he woke up with the shakes and he felt pretty terrible.

I hate leaving him, but I've got to get to school and work. I'm behind enough as it is.

I pile up his night table with all the goodies I think he'll need-remote control, a cooler full of drinks, painkillers, a laptop from the office, the phone. And Frohike and Byers will be here a little later on, and I know they'll check in on him.

If they're lucky, he'll stay asleep.

I kiss the sleeping head goodbye; he barely even stirs. I need to tell him about Sheridan, about the phone number, but now is not the time.

Like us, and everyone else, it's just going to have to wait.
 

MICHAEL:

I get off work at 7 today, which is good-it's inauguration day, and I'll be expected to keep my end up on the newscasts and stuff today.

Damn. This only third week of the semester, and I'm tired already.

I hope Kelly calls the places Mulder gave us today. She says she's going to.

I want her to. I mean, I understand if she's real unhappy about it-I've never been thrilled about therapy. But she's unhappy about things now, the way she is. And she knows that her grades are gonna die if she doesn't get it together, and as for us...

Well, I'll do everything I can...but there's only so much I can do.

I wish I could do more for her.

I got to admit, I'm kind of depressed about stuff today. Hope it gets better.
 

ALLY:

The morning is peaceful enough. This is because I'm in class and not reachable.

It's when I arrive at work that things begin to unravel.

Langly has left me two irritable-sounding messages on my voice mail. He doesn't say what it is he wants, just that I should call him.

"Hey." I hear him pick up on the second ring.

"Hey yourself. You called me. You all right?"

"Hey, did you call Sheridan?"

"Well, I tried to."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, I tried his number at work, to his voice mail...and I got a message saying that the number was no longer in service."

"Did you check to make sure you dialed right?"

"Well, duh! Yeah, I did...three times."

"Lemme try it. Call you back." He clicks off.

He sounds like shit. What he really ought to do is go back to sleep.

But about two minutes later, my phone rings again, and it's him.

"This is weird," he says without preamble. "I gotta go check him out."

"I don't think you're in any condition to do that right now."

"I THINK I'm old enough to decide that!"

Tetchy, aren't we today?

"I have the car."

"Oh yeah. Shit. When do you get off?"

"5:30."

"Can't you speed it up any?"

"Sweetheart, I am so behind from last week...I have numbers flowing out of my computer on to the floor."

"If you save your data, and bring it over here, I'll run it for you. I bet I can do it in half the time."

I bet he can, too, but I bristle some at the idea of this.

Still...I am pressed for time, and I'm running behind, and he's truly worried about Sheridan...

This is probably not the moment to stand on principle here.

"Okay," I sigh into the phone. "I think you ought to be sleeping myself."

"Yeah, well, it's inauguration day, I got stuff to do."

He really sounds like hell.

"You feeling up to this?"

"Ally, I feel like I got run over by a truck, you wanna know the truth. But this is too weird about Sheridan, and if you'd just hurry up and get here..."

"Byers and Frohike there yet?"

I hear a snort and a very heavy sigh. "Christ, they're worse than you. Can you believe, Frohike made me LUNCH? This is a first."

"Serve it to you in bed?"

"Yeah."

"This is different."

"Yeah, especially since it was GOOD."

"And Byers?"

"Just got here from class long enough ago to bring me some herbal tea that has to smell and taste like elephant piss. Says it's supposed to bolster the immune system or some shit like that."

"So they're not exactly encouraging you to get out of bed, I see."

"Well...Frohike said he'd shoot me if I got up."

"He doesn't have a gun."

"Mulder does. He's got access."

And knows how to use one, I think with some amusement.

"C'mon, Ally. I gotta go see Sheridan, and I don't think these guys are gonna cooperate."

"Let me talk to Peter for a second." I press the hold switch and ask Peter if I can take my data with me and work it at home.

Peter says fine, just make sure I bring it back ASAP. I'm really not supposed to remove it from the lab, but he's pretty flexible about things.

"Okay, I'm leaving as soon as I can pull everything I need. That'll take me about fifteen minutes."

"So you'll be home in an hour."

"Langly, I'll get there as soon as I can...it is snowing, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I also know how you drive in the snow."

"Langly..."

"And I gotta see Joanie. Right after we see Sheridan. Okay?"

"I'll be home in a little while. In the meantime, babe? Get some sleep. You're going to need it."

Why did he get all the Valium yesterday? I certainly could use one right now...
 

He's actually ready to move on out when I arrive, which surprises me.

"You okay for this?" He really doesn't look good.

"Got to." He shrugs.

"I get to drive."

"No way."

"How many Vicodins have you had?"

"Just two this morning."

"I'm driving."

He looks annoyed. "I'd like to get there, preferably alive."

"Langly, either I drive or we don't go anywhere."

"Okay, okay."

Frohike and Byers appear at this point, presumably to get more coffee and to check on our boy; they seem surprised to find him awake and dressed.

"What's going on?" Frohike demands.

I shake my head. "He's been trying to get hold of Sheridan. You know Sheridan, don't you?"

"Uh-huh." Frohike and Byers each pour themselves some coffee.

"Hasn't been at work since last week, and doesn't answer my e-mails," Langly whined.

"Did you talk to any of your cube-mates?" Frohike asks.

"What, do I look stupid? Yeah, I asked them! Nobody's heard from him!"

I find myself smirking. See how he likes it when somebody questions HIS judgment.

"And he wasn't planning a vacation, or going to a conference, something like that?" Byers, the ever-thorough, wants to make certain all the bases are covered.

"He'd have said something." Langly's adamant about this...and from what I know of Sheridan, I believe that that's true.

"Weirdness." A favorite Frohike bon mot, one which succinctly sums up an awful lot of life around here.

"So what's the plan?" Byers asks us.

"I guess we're headed over to his place." I'm not sure exactly what Langly has in mind, but I'm assuming he'll work top-down.

"You shouldn't be up and around yet." Byers wrinkles his brow at Langly. "Are you still in much pain?"

"I feel like hell, and I'm not feeling any better standing around while all of YOU discuss the relative merits of this!"

Frohike shakes his head slightly, rolls his eyes to the effect of, how do I let myself get into these situations? I see him use this expression with Mulder a lot.

"All right, dude. If you insist. But we check his place, then we come back."

"No way. I gotta see Joanie."

Byers and Frohike look at each other with studied weariness.

"Fine. A short trip to see Joan. And then you're coming back. Understood?" Frohike digs into his pockets and pulls out his keys. "And I'm driving."

Langly looks a lot more relieved than I'd like.

END OF PART 59