Visio Caedes
FROHIKE:
"So what do you think?"
Mulder looks around carefully, well-trained, long-lashed eyes soaking in all that's visible and invisible. Mulder gets vibrations in these situations. And right now they don't look as if they're good ones.
"I think we need to get out of here, Frohike."
"I mean, what do you think of what happened here?"
"I think someone was obviously very unhappy with this woman. And we need to leave. Now. I have a migraine."
And you have to get rid of it before Scully sees you...I know the drill.
Nine years she's known this man. She's an MD. And yet, he won't tell her about the headaches. His solution? To plead exhaustion and sleep it off.
I can't believe she doesn't know something's up, though. She's sensitive to him in a way that's almost superhuman.
Perhaps there is a tacit agreement somewhere not to speak of this.
I wonder at times if the migraines are linked to the part of his brain that allows him to perceive things in ways no one else can. If by treating them by some accepted protocol would impair his ability to know what he does. I suspect it may be a false belief-and God knows, Mulder is prone to those-but he may well believe it, and that may be sufficient reason for him to endure them.
"Do you want to go home?" Somehow, I can't believe going home to screaming children will improve his current condition.
"No, I think I need some therapy."
The code words for: go to Mitch's.
Mitch's is not in the same direction as the Mulder estate-well, it's not an estate, but it is a very nice home-and I wonder how often he lies awake at night, wondering if taking the money from his father's estate was the right thing to do. I notice he never even considered it until the children appeared.
Of course, his being virtually unemployed right now makes the funds welcome, I'm sure. But I suspect it still bothers him. Leaves a part of him uneasy.
And with Scully actively pursuing her research career, I wonder if he feels rather left behind. I know he enjoys his children.
But I also know he misses the chase.
He's terribly proud of Scully-and I wonder if he's a little envious as well. She seems to have fallen into something that she can press her back against and then pounce on with all fours. He's more adrift. At least from what I sense.
Mitch's is just beginning to fill up with the after-work crowd-and make no mistake, this is no Washington yuppie fern bar crowd.
This allows us to travel anonymously, and we appreciate that.
Mitch is there, to our delight, and starts preparing our drinks before we even sit down. A good bartender does this, and Mitch qualifies.
Not only that, he'll even serve us. I'm not sure how we ever got to be preferred customers. Maybe the few benders Byers, Langly, Mulder and myself have had here in the past were sufficient to upgrade his Harley collection every so often.
"Mulder, you fuckrag, haven't seen you around much, still playing househusband?"
"Uh-huh." Somebody's started 'Take This Job and Shove It' on the jukebox, and Mulder winces visibly.
"What's the matter, got the headaches again? My mama says you've been having lots of 'em."
"Your mama?" Mulder is puzzled. He's only met Genie a couple times, and they've never talked. He knows nothing of her gifts.
This has been deliberate on our part. We didn't want Genie becoming Mulder's lab rat.
"You oughta go see her. She ain't busy on Tuesdays." Mitch strolls away from our table and heads back to the bar.
Perhaps it's time we introduced them to one another. I think this is a day where Mulder could use a friend who sees things in the way he does.
We finish our drinks, leave some cash on the table, and head up the
road to Genie's.
Genie's bed and breakfast is elegantly appointed, and thus, a favorite yuppie tourist spot. Today, though, we see no extraneous cars parked out front, which pleases me. Genie takes good care of her paying customers, and she'd be generally unavailable if she had them in house.
"Been waiting for you," she says as she opens the door and hands us each a Bud longneck. Genie may run a yuppie establishment, but with friends, you drink what she drinks.
She ushers us into her sitting room, which is full of antiques, real ones. I love this room. I've only been here a few times, but it's such a peaceful, secure place.
I notice Mulder visibly relax in her presence.
"You's havin' the headaches, ain't yous?" She looks at him. "I knows all about 'em. Get 'em myself. Price you pay for havin' the sight."
Mulder is baffled, in pain, but totally intrigued.
"How'd you know?" He asks her, wincing.
"Oh, I knows about yous."
Mulder glares at me. "Frohike, are you telling tales out of home?"
"Not me." And I haven't. I really have never told her about Mulder.
"He don't say nothin' 'bout you," Genie assures him. "But I known 'bout you fors a long time now. You's from the FBI." She stresses the letters of the organization.
"Not anymore, I'm not," he says, and I think I hear regret tinged in his voice.
"Well, no, course not now. They's not lettin' any Jews stay 'round there.
They's all gone now." Genie lights one of the many cigarettes she will
no
doubt smoke throughout the course of this visit.
"That's absurd." Mulder shakes his head slightly, continuing to slowly sip the Bud. I'm grateful he's not a beer snob.
"No it ain't. You think 'bout it. You. Your boss man. The girl who was gonna be in your place after yous left. And yous was thinkin' 'bout leavin' for a long time, but you never did, till you got booted out. And you miss it, doncha?"
Mulder. Skinner. Ellen. And god knows who else.
"I don't know...I get more time with my kids this way."
Genie cackles. "You's a good daddy, that's for certain, but you needs more. You needs your job back. Only ain't gonna happen right now." Genie takes another long drag on her cigarette-Christ, that woman inhales like crazy, and doesn't even cough. "You's drivin' your wife crazy, ain't ya?"
"He always drives her crazy. And us. It's what he does best." I cut in here.
Genie waves her hand as if to shush me. Anyone else, I'd be offended. But not with Genie. She has a purpose here, and I'm not to get in her way.
"You needs to figure out what's goin' down out here, Mr. Mulder."
"Hmm?" Mulder seems to not be following her; I don't know if it's the pain or just that Genie never has linear conversations.
"Tell me what you saw." She bores her eyes into him, and he suddenly gets it. Well, sort of.
"You mean this afternoon?" He wrinkles his brow.
"That's what I mean."
He closes his eyes. "I was...somewhere I shouldn't have been..."
"Cut the crap. You been in lots o' places you shouldna been. Never stopped you before. Tell me what you see."
I think Mulder recognizes that she is a kindred spirit. He seems to relax a little, but as he describes the scene in his head, he seems to be in even more agony.
"I saw...a woman being killed in execution style. But I saw other things."
"What other things?" Her eyes are closed now. It's as if she's in a trance.
"Soldiers. Lots of soldiers. Everywhere."
"Uh-huh."
"I can't see what's happening in her lab."
"That's 'cause it ain't the most important parts. That's boys goin' nuts. You tell me the 'portant parts."
Genie's voice is hypnotic, mesmerizing.
"I keep seeing...no, that's not possible."
"You only see what's there. Tell me what's you sees."
"It's...why the Jews?"
"I sees the same thing. Let's just be quiet here and think on it."
"I can't think. My head is killing me."
"Them headaches is what you have to pay to have the sight. And you's got the sight. But now's not the time for talkin'."
She opens her eyes for a moment. "Malvin," my name always comes out that way from her, "maybe you oughts to call your boy. He's bein' worried."
And we may be a while.
Good idea.
MICHAEL:
I get the kids all asleep. Poor Patrick. My heart breaks for that little guy. He's like in the same place I was when my dad went away...and I couldn't figure it out for the life of me. I figured he just went away because I was a bad kid.
But he's snoozing now. Becca's on the floor, Sarah's in the playpen, and Patrick's in my lap.
Christ, what an afternoon.
I wanna move Patrick so I can get some ice and a Ziploc. My face hurts like hell. Even worse than before.
I manage to get him stretched out on the sofa when I hear this loud buzz and see a bunch of flashing lights.
Christ, it's Dr. Scully's TTY line.
I got no idea how to use this thing.
Takes me about ten rings before I can figure it out...wasn't that hard, but I've had a long day and I'm not feeling so great.
I start typing. I don't know what to say, so I just type, hello.
The paper starts moving and text comes over the display. "Mulder?"
"He's not back yet," I type in. I think I'm getting this.
"Who is this?" she types to me.
"It's Michael. I'm babysitting."
"You guys were the ones I needed anyway. I need a favor." I notice there's a little G/A at the end of each thing she types. I think that mean she wants me to answer her. Maybe I'm supposed to do the same thing.
"Shoot. G/A."
"Our data is having problems. Don't want to go into it. Need you to download to my computer. G/A."
If this was the office, no problem...but Mulder and Dr. Scully just have pretty much standard PC type setups. This is gonna be a challenge.
"Okay. G/A."
"Get Langly to help you. He knows this stuff. Have to go. S/K."
S/K?
She hangs up. Maybe it means she's stopping the call.
Great. Now I've got to do a hack on top of this.
4:35. Langly's probably getting ready to leave work...if I go fast, I can catch him. I need him to get here, in a hurry.
I dial his office. He picks up on the fifth ring. And I know it's just because he doesn't like answering the phone.
Tough titties, Langly. I need your help.
"It's Michael."
"Don't worry, Junior, Ally told me to come get the kid when I get done."
"I'm not calling about the kid."
"What'd you do, shoot him?"
"No. We got a problem. Dr. Scully needs us to download her lab data. And I think she wants it done without being detected...and they don't really have the set up here."
"So go do it from the office."
"Langly, I'm alone here with three kids, I can't leave."
"Oh yeah, right." For a bright guy, he is so fucking clueless sometimes. "Okay, so you want me to come over there?"
"That would help." He can learn!
"Okay."
"How long you gonna take?"
"Depends on traffic."
"Well, hurry up!"
"Okay, okay! Jesus, calm down, Junior! It's not like it's your first hack."
"Yeah, but not from such a cheesy setup." This is making me pretty damn nervous.
"Junior, you're being a wimp. Be cool." He hangs up.
How dare he call me a wimp?
I'd like to see HIM do the afternoon I just did!
FROHIKE:
"Martial law." Mulder finally speaks, and the words chill me.
"Uh-huh." Genie's lost in a trance.
"The Constitution suspended." The words come out slowly, piecemeal, but each one makes my blood freeze over.
"You're seein' what I sees."
Genie must have been looking for validation in this. And for her to seek a second opinion, well, she must've been frightened.
"All the lies...lies upon lies upon lies..."
"Yes." Genie and Mulder are locked together in a state I am not privy to...but the predictions coming out of that, well, they're terrifying, to say the least.
"Oh God. Why didn't I see this before?" Mulder's voice rings of despair.
Once again, Genie's voice is soothing and mesmerizing. "You cain't see what you's ain't allowed t'see. You ain't been allowed to see it till now."
"Why?" Mulder's voice is petulant.
"Not for us to ask why. That's the Lord decidin'."
"I don't believe in God."
"Don't matter whether you believes or not. He's there."
Dangerous challenge.
"And He decides." Genie's voice has a note of finality to it. "And He gives you gifts. All of yous. Me, I can only see. Yous, yous can all do. And you gots to do."
"Do what?" I finally speak.
She shakes her head. "I cain't say."
LANGLY:
This has been one fucked-up week.
Where the hell is Nathanson?
Not that I miss him...but I sort of feel uneasy, with him not being around...and nobody knows jack. Not even the gossip gives out any hints. Goldie's our man about gossip. He lives for the stuff...and he's not getting any insights from it.
Now I got to go help Junior carry out a hack.
This shouldn't be too bad. I've been in Ally's computers at work before. Even been in the Cray.
Course, I never did it from Mulder's computer, which doesn't have certain...attributes that ours do.
And of course the traffic on the Beltway SUCKS.
Always seems to happen when I got somewhere to be.
MICHAEL:
By the time Langly gets here, all the kiddies are awake.
I'm sort of glad for the reinforcements. Dad called to say he and Mulder were gonna be awhile.
Probably off drinking somewhere. Bastards.
Christ. I will definitely keep this day in mind next time I'm tempted to forget to use a condom.
I am not ready for this shit.
Patrick's all excited when he sees Langly...and Langly at least picks him up and gives him a big hug, carries him around a while.
"How was he?" he asks me.
"Cried a lot. His life's fucked up."
"Yeah. Poor little guy." Langly plays with the kid's hair, and Patrick seems to like this. He snuggles against Langly's shoulder.
"He took a nap. For like an hour."
"You got this kid to SLEEP?" Langly's like totally amazed.
"Yeah, I did. Why?"
"We don't seem to be able to...he like keeps going and going and going, till he finally just drops."
"God, Langly, you wanted to be a dad?"
"Yeah." He cuddles Patrick. Patrick doesn't look happy, but he seems to like being held.
"Well, looks like you got your wish. Anyway, you gonna help me with this hack or not?"
He grins. "Watch and learn, Junior."
"Mulder could do a lot better than this." Langly's grumbling about his computer setup, which, as I mentioned, is pretty damn lame. At least compared to what we got.
"Didn't you set him up?"
"Nope. Mulder's like, he's gotta prove how much testosterone he's got by doing his own computers." Langly flashes me this evil grin. "Know what? He can't even program the VCR."
Mulder can't even program the VCR?!
Too much.
Okay, Ally can't program the VCR...but she never pretends she can. She just goes to Langly and makes him do it.
Or maybe she can, and she's trying to assure him he's like, the man.
Whatever.
There are four phone lines into Chateau Mulder. One for the phone, two for the computers, one for the TTY.
Langly decides that routing it via the TTY is the way to go...I watch him set this up, and I got to admit, I'm impressed.
Not that I'd tell HIM that.
I'm impressed that we can do this with the kiddies all hanging off us. He's got Patrick in his lap, I'm carrying the baby on my shoulder, and Becca keeps pulling on me and demanding I pick her up. Which I can't do while I'm holding Sarah.
I hope Dr. Scully gets here soon.
We're almost there...but then we get stuck.
"Jesus fuck." Langly swears under his breath.
Becca, with sharp ears, however, hears this, and repeats his sentiment.
Great. Just what Mulder and Dr. Scully want their kids to be picking up.
We try some tricks we know...but to no avail.
"SHIT!" Langly is really irritated now. "This is so bizarre...where the fuck is Byers?"
"With Juliet, probably."
"Not now he's not. We gotta call him."
"He won't come."
"Yes, he will."
"She's coming home tomorrow."
"She can lose him for a few hours. In a few weeks she'll be begging us to take him off her hands, watch and see. Call him! And where the fuck is your dad?"
"Out with Mulder. I think they're drinking."
"Figures. I'm gonna kill them both if they are. You know where they are?"
"No idea."
"Well, get Byers. We need him. Now!"
We do get hold of Byers...he doesn't want to leave yet, his mother-in-law-to-be went to dinner and he wants to wait until she gets back, but Langly's insisting, and even Juliet, I hear her say, go.
All he's got to do is get here from Baltimore. At drive time.
We could be totally fucked by then.
We call Ally, she hasn't left yet. We tell her we're having problems, we're working as fast as we can.
She says, she understands, but work faster.
Thanks Ally.
I tell her husband's with me...she says she'll be there when we get done. We tell her, might be a while, we need Byers to help us. He tells us some stuff over the phone, but none of it's working right yet.
Langly grabs the phone out of my hands, asks her if she's backed up everything, she's saying, I can't, it won't let me write, and he's trying to get her to do some stuff, and she's trying on her end, but she seems like she's getting frustrated, and he's getting frustrated with her.
Please guys, not now. Save it for later.
Finally, Byers is here, sometime about a century later.
Byers got old these past couple weeks. I swear to God, he's got more gray in the beard than he used to.
And rings under the eyes...I'm no match for him right now.
We make way for him, he sits down, tries to work his magic...not happening.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Where the hell is my dad when I need him?
END OF PART 56