Auspicium Melioris Aevi
 

FROHIKE:

This restaurant isn't anything fancy. You might say it's our local eatery. It's inexpensive, the food is wonderful, and the help knows us.

A perfect place to celebrate the first good day I suspect we've all had in a long while.

I'm a bit taken aback that Miranda has chosen not to join us, but I can understand that she is probably shocked, angry and perhaps more than a little jealous right now. I think Allison was wise not to press her to come.

And I'm delighted that Michael and Kelly have made it back in time. They spent the day in the Tidewater District, digging for clams. I suspect they engaged in other activities as well, judging from the luminous glow surrounding them. Michael is very tan, Kelly slightly pink, with a spatter of freckles popping out on her nose. I wasn't even aware the child had freckles. I don't think she spent much time outdoors in her young life.

I'm at the head of the table, with Allison on my right. She generally takes a seat near the end of the table as she is the only southpaw in the group. Michael is on my left, Kelly next to Michael, Langly next to Allison, Juliet next to Kelly, and Byers at the opposite end of the table.

Allison is strangely quiet throughout the meal. I'm certain some of that can be attributed to exhaustion. She's not a young woman for the endeavor she's engaged in, and she's a busy one to boot. I sense more disquiet than that, however. I think while she is happy with the turn her life has taken, she is more than a bit worried.

Far more worried than her husband, who looks like the goddamn Cheshire Cat tonight. He's thrilled to pieces. And I felt I needed to honor that.

Langly is engaged in some six degrees of separation puzzle with Byers, one of those my sister-in-law's sister-in-law is dating my ex-husband's brother-in-law's brother-in-law sort of twisters that generally goes down best with many beers as lubrication. And both of them have had a few.

I ask Allison if she's all right, and she says, of course, she's fine, she's just tired.

I don't believe her for a moment. I know what she looks like when tired is all she is, and it doesn't involve worry lines forming around her tiny features, such as is happening now.

She's probably contemplating her previous attempts at having children, and I doubt she's terribly encouraged by what she remembers.

And with the technique she and Langly have employed to achieve this impending child, her chances of not going full term are even greater. I wonder if he realizes this. I'm certain he's been informed, but somehow, I doubt he was listening.

She's probably as worried about how he'll react as she is about the fate of this embryonic being, should anything go wrong. And she has a teenage daughter who has made her lack of enthusiasm for this very pointed.

She's going to have to make a lot of adjustments in her life. And she knows it.

And she doesn't want to throw any of this on her husband, even though she should.

It's his job, dammit.

Wanting is not the same as having. I feel like taking him aside, shaking him and telling him to grow up already.

But I'd hate to do it tonight. He is supremely happy. We get so few moments like that.

And it's their first wedding anniversary, and that in itself is worthy of this celebration.

For now, I'll let it ride.
 

May is a lovely month in northern Virginia. The weather is balmy tonight; the temptation to leave the office door open is present.

Not a chance in hell.

I'm joined by the others. We are still trying to work out thirteen bombings that took place in late March around the country. Why they took place, how they happened, who was responsible.

It's very odd, to say the least. We're all frustrated by our lack of progress.

And it hasn't been for lack of trying. In spite of the overwhelming nature of our schedules, we have dogged this.

Juliet has joined us tonight. She is regrettably unemployed at the moment, trying to remedy that situation, but she says she's never had problems getting work until now. I recommend she talk to Luanne Russell, who uses my services. She would keep me working 24/7-she has that much work right now, but I have other responsibilities, and I'm not nearly so young as I once was. The pace grinds me down. I'm hoping Luanne can use her particular capabilities.

I consider it a bad sign of the times that Luanne is so busy. And she turns away work that conflicts with her particular ethical standards, so she could probably be a much wealthier woman if she had no principles.

Juliet has offered her assistance to us. I'm not certain what she should be doing, but we will probably be able to use her talents. I'm comfortable with Juliet being knowledgeable about how we conduct our business. She herself is no small change as a hacker; and for some reason, this makes me uneasy. Call me an old-fashioned male chauvinist pig, but I'm not all that comfortable with the thought of women having full involvement in our...organization. I was raised to treat women a certain way, and while I do think I treat them with respect, I can't help feel somewhat protective of them.

Guilty as charged.

Michael brings Kelly in here from time to time, something I am NOT comfortable with. I am certain he has told her what we do; however, I suspect there are certain things he hasn't, in accordance with my requests. I don't want to put the young lady at risk. Nor do I want our security compromised.

I still don't completely trust her. Yes, she adores my son, and he her, but they're so young, and this could change at any time.

With dreadful consequences. It's not only my son's heart I worry about.

It's his safety and that of those around me.

So I'm paranoid. Shoot me.

Tonight, though, Kelly has gone to be with Miranda while Michael is with us. I suspect her presence with Miranda will be greatly beneficial, whereas if she were here, I would feel very inhibited discussing some of the things we bring up.

And I find it disturbing that Miranda is acutely aware of her stepfather's activities. I wish she were not. I know she is a discreet child, but she is still a child, this being the operative concept here.

Mulder has e-mailed us, informing us that he may have some useful data for us, but he can't come out and play tonight. Not while tending to two children, one with a middle-ear infection. Scully has returned to her position in the research lab she runs, and she has left Mulder solely in charge of their two children while she is in the trenches.

I think this is her way of getting Mulder to be more realistic regarding the number of children he would like to have. If this doesn't orient him, then he's even more insane than I believe him to be.

Langly's the last one to join us. He probably spent some time with Allison, who wasn't looking all that good by the time we finished dinner.

Apparently she's asleep now. He's going to have to get used to that. It's going to happen a lot more in the coming months. Take it from one with firsthand experience.

Right now, he's on a high, and I don't want to be the one to shoot him down. Sooner or later, circumstances of whatever nature will have gravity take over and he'll hit the earth with a thud.

We have so much unfinished work, all those loose threads that are half-woven into rough fabrics, hanging like patches for a quilt that simply won't come together.

And in times such as these, it's important to bring it together, get the word out there. Because the times they are a-changin', and not for the better.

People say it could never happen in this country. The spectre of civil war, martial law, anarchy, annilihation of civilians. People dismiss it far too readily, deluding themselves into thinking that constitutional law and custom will protect what they take for granted.

I have no such delusions. It's no wonder my ulcer is starting to annoy me again.

It is coming, in some form, but from whom, or where, or exactly how, we are all frustrated in our attempts to figure out what will be.

It's part of the whole plan. To catch our citizenry off guard, dismember their lives as they know them, break their connections, break them.

You think I exaggerate. I think I'm being too modest in my assessments here.

But I've been wrong so many times before.

Unlike the other times, though, I'm hoping this time I am.
 

MICHAEL:

It's weird to sit and talk about work after having such an awesome day being removed from reality. I'm having a hard time getting into it tonight.

Apparently I'm not the only one.

Byers is sort of paying attention. Dude looks like he just won the lottery. I never knew professors could be so happy that the semester was over. Thought it was just us students.

Langly's useless, totally lost in space. He and Ally are gonna have their kid. He's just too jazzed to think about anything else right now.

Only one really listening up when my dad's going on is Juliet. She wants to do some stuff while she's looking for work. You can see my dad hesitate big time. But he does send her off to Miss Russell, which she's gonna do, send her e-mail.

I don't get it. Juliet's a respectable hacker herself. I mean, she's not as macho as some of us, but I bet she's clean and doesn't get into trouble because she's careful. But my dad's weird about women that way. Which doesn't make sense. We're surrounded by smart ladies here. Probably smarter than us. Certainly more the reality based half of the species.

Talking to Kelly coming home, she's like not so sure this thing with Langly and Ally's gonna take. She quotes me a lot of stats, she's learning this stuff working for Dr. Shalad. She says she hopes it does work, but there's a lot of sadness in Dr. Shalad's work. Particularly with older moms with bad track records.

Shit, if anything goes wrong, I'm not sure I wanna be around when it happens. It's not gonna be pretty.

Did I get my dad's pessimism or what?

He's glaring at me like he knows my mind is wandering off. Which it is.

So shoot me for being an airhead for one fucking day. I needed it, big time.

I get tired of being stressed out, too, you know.

Maybe in the summer the living will be easy. I've only got one class and just a few tutoring hours. I can deal with that. I'll be putting in time here, but that's cool.

I'd like to rediscover sleeping. I did this past week. Four days, I didn't get out of bed. I slept straight for 27 hours. Bliss.

And then there was today, at the Tidewater, digging for clams...but that's not the only thing we did.

We climbed out on the rocks, and there were like these tidepools nearby, and it was so awesome. You could see bunches of fish, the water was real blue and clear.

And the rocks were real private. There was like this one low flat one in between a bunch of taller formations, and it was sunny there, and yeah, you guessed it. Kelly and me did the deed there.

It was so incredible. I came so damn hard I was dizzy afterwards for a real long time.

It was so great. Almost so intense it hurt, but in a good way.

Gave me a chance to work on my tan, too. I got a real tan in Atlantic Beach, mostly it's faded, but today I perked it back up. Nothing like an all-over tan to make you feel great.

Kelly was so beautiful out there today. I loved watching her lie naked in the sun.

I could make a lifestyle out of that. I've got every curve on her memorized, but I still don't ever get tired of watching.

And I'm totally addicted to her touching me. I can't get enough of it. If she never had to take her hands off me, I'd be a damn happy camper. Even if I'm just sitting by her, I like her to have one hand on me. At least. Skin to skin has become my drug of choice. Makes me wonder if everyone needs this much touch. I know I do.

All I have to do is think about her kissing me, and...

"Michael! Are you paying attention?!"

Oops.

Dad must've asked me something, and it just went right over me.

Hey, I'll pay attention tomorrow.

Let me just have today.
 

BYERS:

We really aren't getting anything done here tonight. Frohike's trying to get us to pull our collective and individual acts together, but we all seem to have traveled to other planets of our own design.

Having narrowly escaped what could be a logarithmically greater increase in our responsibilites, Juliet and I have been glancing at each other out of the corners of our eyes throughout all of this. She's doing far better than I am at staying focused, but I can tell from the look in those dark eyes that tonight, she wants the earth to move, volcanoes to erupt, and angels to sing.

This is where I come in. Well, I'm not saying I can accomplish any of the above. But I do find myself nearly aching with the desire to take her home, climb into our bed, and love her until the sun comes up or we pass out from sheer exhaustion, whichever should come first.

Frohike is talking, and I'm trying very hard to listen. We are behind. We have mountains of undone work. We need to get moving. All of this is true.

And at this moment, I really could not care less. The last two weeks have been intensely stressful for a variety of reasons. It appears that we could both use some release.

And what better place than in our bed? We spent a long time shopping for the perfect bed. I think we tested every mattress in the DC area. Doing this made me wish that I could have Li'l Abner's job.

Don't overlook the joys of 400-count 100 percent cotton sheets, either. Yes, they cost as much as the entire GNP of some third-world nations, but they have the most magnificent feel to them. And they don't wear out. We'll have these sheets for the rest of our natural lives.

Add a gray goosedown comforter with box stitching, goosedown pillows, and you've got what has come to be a refuge for us.

Juliet appreciates these things as I do. Neither of us considers ourselves to be excessively materialistic-in terms of sheer numbers of items (read: junk), Frohike and Langly have me beat by miles. But we like our creature comforts, so when we do purchase, we make certain it's worth having.

This is one of the ways in which she is so different from Susanne.

Susanne was a scrappy kid from the South Side of Chicago, a working-class girl who struggled for everything she had. Susanne was unconcerned with creature comforts; if she had a place to sleep and something to eat, she was fine. I wish I could be so basic, but for me, spoiled by my upbringing in Scarsdale, New York, I regretfully admit I enjoy some of the finer things. I don't need a lot of them. But I do appreciate them.

Juliet is solidly middle-class, the daughter of two professors in the humanities, good-humored, relaxed individuals who appreciate a few good things in the world. From them, she has acquired a love of good coffee and wine, plays and poetry, classical music. But she's earthy enough to enjoy a Lethal Weapon movie (she purrs when Mel Gibson appears on screen. It's difficult to watch a movie when your companion is purring next to you). And she's not a snob; her only requirement for food is that it be tasty and well-prepared. Her tastes run more to pasta and chicken than caviar and quail's eggs.

And speaking of purring, there's the apple of our eyes, our Tonkinese cat Tivoli. Tivvy is wonderfully affectionate and expressive. Her face is the perfect mixture of beauty and hilarity. She is playful and entertaining, and we adore her unreservedly, even if she does have the habit of wanting to jump on the bed to get a piece of the action. Sometimes her timing leaves something to be desired. There's something about reaching that magic moment when you are ready to totally let go and fall into the abyss, when you suddenly discover whiskers and a wet nose in your presence. Our usual response is to laugh hysterically, which actually does nothing to spoil the mood. Go figure.

"Byers, what do you think?" It's Frohike, calling me back to earth.

"Uh...I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I find a blush creeping from my neck up to my forehead. The curse of the redhead. I have it in spades.

This brings about a chorus of laughter, and I know that we won't be here much longer.

One should be grateful for small favors.
 

LANGLY:

Poor Ally. She's totally wiped. We get home from dinner and all she wants to do is go to bed. Which I'm glad about, because I keep thinking she's not gonna take it light enough while she's pregnant.

I ask her when she gets to stop work, and she says she has no idea what she's gonna do, she got a confirmation test today, but her first real appointment is Wednesday, and she has announced that I'm going.

Did I mention she can get a little pushy sometimes?

Usually she like takes care of everything on her own, and that's good because I don't have a lot of time and anyway, she does it better than me. So when she says I got to do something, I sort of sit up and take notice because she doesn't usually make me do stuff.

Not that this would have been my first choice. But she wants me there, hey, I'm there.

Especially now. I'm so psyched. I got no idea why I wanted to do the dad thing so bad. But I do, and now it's gonna happen, and I'm just like flying.

I wonder if it's a boy or girl. Ally says we'll know ahead of time, at her age she has to have amnio. She says they don't have to tell us unless we want to know. I don't know if I want to find out or be surprised. Haven't decided.

I just wish Ally felt a lot better. She looks so beat. I feel sort of bad because I think this is real hard on her, but she just says, she wanted to do it, too, so shut up and let her sleep.

I hope she's gonna take it easy. She's real driven. Always moving. Says she's like a shark, she swims or dies. But she probably should go light on stuff, considering she's had some bad luck.

Which means I should probably get my act together and do some more stuff. I'm kind of used to leaving it up to her because she's real organized and she gets it done, but she's gotta rest more, and it's not like we have a maid or anything.

We should probably get somebody to clean this place, but we haven't done it yet. Ally's kind of picky about who she lets in her house, as are the rest of us. She had maids when she was growing up, but she never let them clean her room. Says she knew where stuff was and didn't like it moved around.

But hey, we lock up the photo lab, and we just have someone come in and keep the place from becoming a health code violation, that should be okay.

I mean, somebody's gotta keep the place from totally collapsing under its own junk, and that's been Ally, and she's gotta have more time to sleep.

Hope Miranda comes around a little. I mean, I know this isn't thrilling for her. But her Aunt Joan became a big sister again when she was 16, like Miranda will be. And her mom's 17 years older than her Uncle Jason. She's not the first person to deal with this. And Miranda is pretty damn tough. I suspect she'll be okay. I just don't like it when she gives her mom shit, and I got a feeling that she'll be doing a lot of that. And Ally doesn't need it or deserve it. She's a great mom.

And she's my kid's mom. This is just too awesome.

I can't wait till February.
 

FROHIKE:

This is useless. Trying to talk to any of them tonight is a waste of my breath.

They're all anywhere but here. Their minds are definitely not on the situation at hand.

Once again, I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of hormones here.

I tell them we'll be doing a road trip tomorrow night, to Chateau Mulder in Silver Springs, and they'd all better be ready to work.

For now, get them out of here. Let them deal with their primal impulses, get them out of their systems, and we can move forward tomorrow.

And besides, there's this magnificent download of Elle MacPherson-au naturel-awaiting me in cyberspace.

And you thought I was an old stick in the mud.

I am, but not where Elle is concerned.

Never let it be said that I don't appreciate carnal delights.

Even if I did think the Pamela Anderson-Tommy Lee sex tapes were revolting.

END OF PART 6