By Onemillionandnine
kokotheuberchimp@hotmail.com
 

Archive: sure!
Rating: Earnest NC17 for birth, sex, and death not
filmed through a soupy lens.
Category: LGM, Novel, Angst, Mytharc, Sequel,
alternative version of a pre-existing fic story.

Summary: Small changes in timing can make a huge
difference in the course of events.
Disclaimer: I am not Chris Carter. Hell, I'm not even
affiliated with 1013 or Fox. So  believe it when I say
that there is nothing official or sanctioned about
this story.

Thanks: good beta is an exasperating and difficult
task and doubly so when there is a lunatic at the
helm. MaybeAmanda no doubt feels like she's been
shanghai'ed by pirates and fed nothing but anchovies
and lima beans on a voyage in search of the great
albino cetacean. You deserve laurel wreaths and to be
carried through the streets on a litter by a retinue
of MulderClones, babe. As if there was ever any
question. And, as always, thanks to my husband for
things fairly unmentionable, even for me.

Notes: I was so traumatized by Jump The Shark I wrote
this. It was cheaper than therapy.

Further Note: the events of Jump Shark never took
place in my universe.

American Sign Language Note: ASL is a language just
like Portuguese or Swahili with its own grammar and
figures of speech. Conversations taking place in that
language have, for purposes of fiction, been
translated for intent and meaning, rather than
literally.

Notes on the name Ringo: In Japanese it means Apple.
It is the stage name of one Richard Starkey - drummer.
It is also the name of a character played by Marion
Morrison (better known as John Wayne) The Ringo Kid,
taken from an Anglicization of the Rio Rincon, or
Corner River, so named for its many snakes and turns.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Part One
 

A story can only be improved by a clear sense of setting,
and this is no exception.

It was November 21, 2004. Unseasonable cold blew along a
flinching eastern seaboard. John Ashcroft was still
attorney general and although under severe pressure for the
un-American activity of filling out a subscription card,
The Lone Gunmen News' subscribership had dwindled to next
to nothing, the number of actual readers had increased
tenfold. The gun shops, independent bookstores, and pagan
supply houses willing to carry the paper found themselves
unable to keep up with demand.

For the publishers, though, it was as much of a
hand-to-mouth existence as ever. And while the public
interest was encouraging, the fact that civil liberties
were slipping away like so many suds down a drain was not.

Langly and Frohike were just settling back into their
around-the-warehouse routine after two weeks uncharged in
Montgomery county lock-up, when Byers saw an unfamiliar
figure on the front door surveillance camera.

"Someone's at the door," he said, surprised.

"Anybody we know?" Frohike asked, elbow deep in wires as
usual, from across the room.

"I don't believe so," Byers answered. "No one I know, at
least."

"Cop?" Frohike asked.

"A boy," Byers replied. "Or rather, a young man. I think."

Langly had rolled over from the game on his screen and was
now scrutinizing the surveillance monitor. "And I'm
supposed
to be the blind one," he muttered. "That's a girl."

Frohike peered at the monitor. "I know you don't see the
real thing on a regular basis, but the ones in the
magazines
you got with the pages stuck together, those are girls. And
that,"
he pointed to the figure on the screen, "looks like a boy
to me."

Langly folded his arms across his chest, shaking his head
and glaring at Frohike. "Nuh uh."

"Uh huh." Frohike glared back.

"One way to settle this," Byers said, crossing the room
and throwing open the door locks.

The figure in the door stood almost as tall as Langly,
with ramrod straight posture.  The newcomer was
pathetically
underdressed for the weather, wearing an unraveling black
polyester sweater over layers and layers of t-shirts and a
pair of torn, filthy jeans. The person's hair was a month
away from clean-shaven scalp, and stood up in tiny chestnut
brown spikes.

"Well?" Langly said as the others stared.

The guest swallowed and reached for the small of his or her
back.

Langly and Frohike leapt back from what they were certain
was a gun, one ducking, the other stumbling and finally
sprawling on the floor, swearing.

Both were more than slightly embarrassed when the would-be
assailant presented John Byers with a small spiral
notebook.

"What's it say, Byers?" Frohike asked, trying to regain his
composure.

Byers read the words printed in unnaturally precise block
letters aloud. "My name is Thea Fidelis. Gibson Praise told
me to come to you. He said you know where my parents are."

"Thea," Langly repeated the name, dusting himself
off. "Told you she was a chick."

"Fidelis? Sorry, kid," Frohike said. "I'd remember anybody
with a handle like Fidelis, and it doesn't ring any bells."

"But we do know Gibson Praise," Byers said.

"We know OF Praise. It's not the same thing," Frohike
replied.

Byers looked at their visitor. Making deliberate eye
contact, he asked, "Thea, are you deaf?"

Thea frowned at him and tapped the notebook.

ARE YOU DEAF? Byers wrote neatly.

The girl frowned and printed rapidly, NO, IT'S AN ACT. She
rolled her eyes.  JUST WAIT UNTIL I BUST MY HELEN KELLER
MOVES.

WE DON'T KNOW ANYONE NAMED FIDELIS, Byers wrote, quelling
his irritation.

She took the notebook and wrote more slowly this time.

These words Byers did not speak.  "Oh," he said, surprise
in his voice.  He passed the palm-sized book to Frohike.

Frohike's brows rose, and he passed the book to Langly.

"Bullshit," Langly muttered. "She's too old."

"I don't know," Frohike countered. "Take a close look and
tell me that face isn't familiar. Really familiar."

Langly looked at the words in front of him, then at the
girl, then back at the words.

MY PARENTS ARE NAMED DANA SCULLY AND FOX MULDER, it said.

He grabbed the nearest pen and wrote in his spidery script,
THEY'RE DEAD.

Thea wrote, GIBSON SAID YOU WOULD TELL ME THAT. BUT IT'S A
LIE. GIBSON TOLD ME MY PARENTS ARE ALIVE AND YOU KNOW WHERE
TO FIND THEM.

Frohike grabbed a sheet of paper from a nearby printer
tray. HOW WOULD GIBSON KNOW ABOUT US? he scribbled.

The girl shrugged. HE READ HER MIND, I SUPPOSE.

Byers took the paper anxiously. WHAT ELSE DID PRAISE SAY
ABOUT US?

HE SAID MY MOTHER THOUGHT YOU MADE A PRACTICE OF COMMITTING
AN AVERAGE OF FOUR PROSECUTABLE OFFENSES BEFORE BREAKFAST,
BUT SHE STILL BELIEVED YOU WERE ON THE SIDE OF THE ANGELS.
She looked from man to man. THOSE WERE HER THOUGHTS,
ACCORDING TO GIBSON.  YOU GUYS. ANGELS.

Frohike frowned. "That sounds about right," he offered.

IF YOU WANT US TO BELIEVE YOU, WE'RE GOING TO NEED PROOF,
Langly scratched out on the page, his knee bouncing
nervously. BLOOD, DNA WORK.

She didn't seem at all bothered. SURE, I'D LIKE TO BE
CERTAIN MYSELF. She wrote back. I ONLY KNOW WHAT GIBSON
TOLD ME.

"Ask her if she came from a lab," Frohike instructed Byers.

"What kinda lab?" Langly asked.

"You know what kinda lab," Frohike replied.

Langly whistled. "Dude, that would be a hell of a story,
wouldn't it? We could blow it all wide fucking open
couldn't we? The whole military-industrial complex, the
whole Roswell-Project Paper Clip-everything."

"And get a first-hand chance to know how Wile E. Coyote
feels when the anvil falls on his head? No thanks." Frohike
shook his head. "The fewer people know about her, the
better." He took the pad from her hand and scrawled, WHO
WERE YOUR MANUFACTURERS?

ZEUS, she wrote back in her unnatural penmanship. I WAS
GROWN IN COSTA RICA BUT I BELIEVE MOST OF MY DESIGN WAS A
COMBINED DEUTSCHE NIPPONESE EFFORT.

HOW DID YOU ESCAPE? Frohike wrote.

I DIDN'T. I THINK THEY WERE HAVING BUREAUCRATIC PROBLEMS,
she answered. THEY MISPLACED US, SO WE LEFT.

WE WHO? Byers wrote.

GIBSON AND I. WE WERE ON OUR OWN FOR FOUR YEARS. THEN HE
DIED, she replied.

SO YOUR TRAIL - IT'S COLD? Byers continued.

At this, she simply nodded.

"Good," Frohike said half under his breath.

The girl snatched her pen and wrote clearly, ARRANGE THE
TESTS. WHEN SHOULD I COME BACK?

Langly leaned forward when he saw the note and snatched her
by the sleeve, steering her to sit in front of a monitor.

He leaned over her and typed.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

TO FIND FOOD AND A PLACE TO STAY, she typed quickly.

YOU HAVE MONEY FOR A MOTEL? he asked.

She frowned.

WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO STAY? Langly insisted.

She lifted her chin. I'LL FIND SOMETHING.

NO WAY, Langly typed. STAY HERE.

She shook her head. NO, she typed.

Frohike nudged her slightly to the side so he could get at
the keyboard. BLONDIE'S RIGHT, he typed. STAY WITH US. WE
HAVE ROOM AND THIS PLACE IS PRETTY SECURE, JUST INCASE YOUR
TRAIL ISN'T AS COLD AS YOU THINK. Then he turned to Langly
and Byers, making sure Thea couldn't read his lips. "But
I'll be damned if we lead her to Mulder, daughter or not.
She could still be a spy."

"Damned skinny spy," Langly said. His lip curled. "And she
smells like a dumpster. I'll bet that's where she's been
sleeping."

"Yes, I noticed." Byers nodded. "And if she isn't who she
says she is, it'll be a lot easier to keep an eye on her if
she's here." He scanned her familiar features again
briefly. "And if she is who she says she is, well, we
should do what we can for her."

Frohike nodded. PLEASE? he typed. YOUR PARENTS WOULD EXPECT
US TO KEEP YOU SAFE. YOU'LL BE SAFE HERE.

She shook her head. NO. NO OFFENSE, BUT HOW DO I KNOW I CAN
TRUST YOU?

The three men blinked at one another for a moment. "Good
question," Byers mumbled.

After a moment's thought, Langly turned back to the
keyboard. GIBSON TOLD YOU. WE'RE ON THE SIDE OF ANGELS. YOU
TRUSTED HIM, RIGHT? WOULD HE LIE TO YOU?

Thea bit her bottom lip. She shook her head 'no' quickly,
as if, now that someone had asked, she wasn't entirely
certain.

JUST UNTIL WE CAN RUN THE TESTS, Langly typed. JUST A FEW
DAYS.

She hesitated. OKAY, she typed. JUST A FEW DAYS.

****************

The tests confirmed every word she had told them.

The few days she had promised Langly stretched into weeks,
then months. The first time Byers found her dressing in the
kitchen before dawn, a room was cleared for her.

One day, Langly noticed equations crammed into the margins
of her notebook where he expected to see doodles.  That
same day, he began explaining to her the work that took up
the majority of his attention.

Frohike noted she never needed him to explain anything
twice. He also noted that Langly didn't once accuse her of
the high crime of stupidity.

The following month, her room mates scrounged up enough
cash to pay an oral surgeon to remove her wisdom teeth.

Two years, four months, and two days after she had first
arrived in Takoma Park, Thea Fidelis was still there.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Thea Fidelis had only once before stolen something she
could not justify. She was a small child and her
transgression involved a spoon.

It never occurred to the men responsible for her well
being to give the child a toy. During a brief visit to
the estate of CGB Spender to examine her growth,
development, ability to perform on a standardized test, she
stole a spoon from the old man's tea set. A sugar shell
really, small and silver with wavelike curls swelling
around the bottom. When she looked into the scanty,
tarnished bowl, she could see her own face reflected. It
became her poppet.

She did not play with it as if it were a doll. Usually, she
simply held it in her pocket.  At the worst of times,
though, she'd pull it out, then sit and stare into her own
face in its shell, and pretend she wasn't alone.

The second unjustified theft was a kiss from Ringo Langly.

Even years later, certain aspects of unfolding events
stood out Thea's memory.  She remembered being
gripped by an anxiety akin to physical pain in the hours
between making the decision to kiss him and having the
opportunity to actually do it. She remembered very clearly
the moment when he began to respond, his body moving toward
her and his mouth relaxing and opening, his oven mitt
caressing her back.

His stumbling backwards and retreating, first to his room,
then leaving the house altogether.

She made convincing excuses to Byers and Frohike, then
spent the night sitting on his bed, fingering his books,
his dice, his plastic bag full of twist ties and wondering
if he hated her. Wanting to throw herself on his mercy.

Thea had never risked so much in her life as she did the
moment she took Langly in her arms. She was no longer
presumptuous enough to simply want something and take it.
The tight frown of Richard Langly was far more terrifying
than any of the tortures meted out by CGB Spender. Before
the kiss, she was sure Ringo liked her. She had no problem
stealing what was necessary for subsistence but there was
no way on earth she could justify a kiss. A kiss?

She must have been insane.

Of course the blowing-up-in-her-face part was inevitable.
She didn't look anything like the women in the magazines he
kept between his mattress and box spring, so why would he
want to kiss her? She was stupid, stupid, stupid and now it
felt like a hole, like Gibson had died again, even though
she knew it was wrong to compare the two.

She considered herself wise, jaded even, when it came to
human behavior. And perhaps her life had afforded her a
certain understanding of the nature of powerful men and
their sycophants, of sadism and loneliness, and of the
struggle for survival, but she sorely overestimated her
understanding of relationships between adult men and women.

At that point in her life Thea equated sexual intercourse
with reproduction and pleasure with her own hand. She
kissed him because it was something she had wanted to do
for a very long time. In the act she had neither reason nor
goal but simply want, want akin to blind greed. Her thought
went no farther than his lips.

Thea, of course, had no way of knowing that, although he'd
occasionally had sex that involved no kissing at all,
Langly had never in his adult life had a kiss that did not
lead directly to sex. It never occurred to him when he was
kissed, by the same girl who had been his partner in a
four-handed keyboard attack on Dow Chemical  two hours
earlier, that she had anything other than sex in mind.

They were both in possession of a rather debauched form of
naivety. What followed could not have transpired otherwise.

When he came in the next morning with his hair even less
brushed than usual and his shirt inexplicably wet and
smelling like Mountain Dew, she attempted to explain,
apologize, and lie lie lie. Her words flew so fast he
didn't understand a single one. Then all of the sudden he
was angry, yelling and signing at her. And as resilient as
she tried to be, there was a catch in her chest and tears
broke out like water through busted plumbing and he tried
to fighting them off at first and then...then...then he
kissed her. He held her face in two hands and his tongue
shot into her mouth like lightning to ground.

Certain things stood out about the experience, later: the
agony of waiting for his judgment; the repeated kissing and
the repeated pushing away; him standing, face to the wall,
before he admitted haltingly that he wanted her. That he
was afraid but not enough to let it stop him.

Not until he asked if she was a virgin did she realize he
meant to have intercourse with her. She was immensely
flattered. She thought perhaps it was the best idea anyone
had ever come up with. Of course it was; Ringo was
brilliant.

She had read about sex in medical texts. She was thoroughly
aware what was occurring on a physical level. Changes in
the pattern of blood flow, increased heart rate, surges of
adrenalin. She was utterly unprepared for the way he
touched her, as simple and tentative as his ministrations
were. She had never seen a grown man naked, let alone
achingly erect. She found him exquisite and unnerving.

She did not understand the words he mouthed at her. Did not
know he said what he was afraid to sign. Did not recognize
the words 'I love you.' Did not understand why he would not
let her touch his penis.

She never expected him to take her nipple into his mouth,
suckling her like a baby.  She was amazed at the way the
sensation went straight to her clitoris.

She stared at his face. His soft hair was spread out cross
her chest, his hawkish nose nestled against her, his
eyelids trembling as if in dream. There was something
unfamiliar about his face without his glasses. She had the
fearful sensation that she was with a stranger. Naked
Langly, without glasses, shy and seeking comfort at her
breast even as he pressed his almost unbearably warm
erection against her leg, was totally foreign to her. He
looked...different. Not frail or weak, not delicate or
needy or pensive, but 'something' she was uncertain how to
articulate.

Suddenly, she was aware of the quality of maleness in an
entirely new way. He smelled like musk and black pepper.
The most beautiful freckles spread themselves across his
shoulders like flakes of gold. He looked other-worldly, a
study in pale colors, tone on tone.

He seemed so grown-up this way, naked with his arms around
her, and she felt so young and stupid that her own fear
infuriated her. He had to be the smartest person alive to
think to do this, this thing with her nipples. His touches
were so intense she waited in pained anticipation of what
he would do to her next.

This was sex. She kept feeling as though she was about to
swoon. His left hand moved from her ribs down to her hard
hip bone. She made fists reflexively.

DO YOU WANT ME TO STOP? he spelled with the fingers of one
hand.

She shook her head.

OPEN YOUR LEGS, he spelled.

He seemed surprised when she complied. They both shivered
when he gently spread her labia.

His thumb skated reverently over her sex. She recognized
right away the pattern of his motions. Her name. He was
spelling her name on her clitoris again and again. His hand
between her thighs felt nothing like her own. Her orgasm
blew like an explosion of ice.

She tried to beg him with her lips, her brain was a burning
funhouse maze of thought insisting NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW
NOW NOW no matter where she turned. Her every nerve ending
screamed for penetration. He stared up at her totally void
of understanding.

FUCK ME NOW LANGLY she spelled.

O.K. he spelled back.

He climbed on top of her with awkward slowness and laid
there motionless for a long while, the tip of his penis not
quite penetrating her. Had she been able she would have
screamed in frustration. She rocked her hips. Mouthed a
word she hoped he would recognize.

PLEASE.

He stopped her hips with his hands. He signed, ARE YOU
SURE? IT'LL HURT, I THINK. I'VE HEARD IT HURTS.

She nodded, on the teeth-gritting edge of something that
was like anger or desperation without being either one.

Slowly, incrementally, he penetrated her.

He was right. It hurt.

There was a surreal element to feeling one's own body
tissue tear. She was surprised at the unforgiving hardness
of him. She did not realize she made a sharp squeaking
sound. She was surprised at how quickly the pain stopped
once he began to move more rapidly.

She expected it to feel different, like they were one
person. Instead, she felt every vein and ridge of him
moving inside her.  She was reminded how close they were,
but still separate, his narrow body pushing against hers,
his large hands squeezing her small breasts. She was
surprised at the second orgasm she felt rise as he
ejaculated inside her, taking her unaware. She felt the
groan in his throat at the same time as his seminal fluid
surged into her.

Afterwards, snuggling against her, he frowned worriedly
when she asked if she had performed badly.

NO, I JUST - I FORGOT THE RUBBERS.

Regret that he had neglected to employ prophylaxis? She
wrinkled her forehead and fought to conceal how stunned she
was. His purpose had been pleasure only. She felt a
wonderful cold in the pit of her stomach. There was no
utility in this except maybe, just maybe, to share. How
decadent. How beautiful. Incredible. She fought the lump
that wished to rise in her throat, keeping her face blank.
This was about the two of them, together, nothing else, no
purpose beyond pleasing one another. Gooseflesh rose on her
arms.

YOU COULD GET-  He didn't know the sign.

WHAT? She asked.

DO YOU KNOW WHERE BABIES COME FROM? he signed uneasily.

OTHER THAN A LAB? SEX. BABIES COME FROM SEX, Thea signed
matter-of-factly. HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ONE? she continued.

He grabbed his glasses off the top of the clock. He looked
so alarmed

UP CLOSE, I MEAN? she amended her question.

He blinked. YOU'VE NEVER SEEN A BABY?

ONLY FROM A DISTANCE, she answered. LIKE AT THE ZOO.

Of course, it would have been fine with her to have a tiny
Langly growing in her uterus. Better than fine. But Ringo
seemed bothered by the idea. Well, she supposed, if he'd
wanted offspring he would have them by now, wouldn't he?

She closed her eyes, secure in the statistical unlikelihood
of impregnation.

He tucked the quilt around her shoulders. Although his
hands were cold, his semen was warm and sticky and seeping
out onto her bloody thighs.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:
When she woke, he was sitting tensely on the edge
on the bed, already showered and dressed.

ARE YOU MY GIRLFRIEND NOW? he signed.

She rubbed her eyes before she signed, WANT ME TO
GET YOUR NAME TATTOOED ON MY ASS TO PROVE IT?

I'M SERIOUS, he signed, his eyes darting
furtively.

SO AM I. Something feral flickering at him from
behind her eyes. I'M NOT PHILOSOPHICALLY OPPOSED
TO THE IDEA OF BRANDING EITHER, BUT ME, NOT YOU -
YOU DON'T HEAL WELL AND BESIDES, YOU GET BITCHY
WHEN YOU'RE IN PAIN.

THEN SAY IT, SIGN IT, WHATEVER, YOU KNOW WHAT I
MEAN, THAT WE'RE TOGETHER, he signed rigidly.

She tilted her head, her eyes wide.  I ALREADY
TOLD YOU I LIKE YOU.

He didn't know how to ask this. LIKE ME HOW? THE
SAME AS YOU LIKE BYERS AND THE MAYOR OF MUNCHKIN
TOWN?

I-

She paused and looked down suddenly, mesmerized
by the bedspread. I DON'T KNOW, THAT'S WRONG, I
KNOW BUT I... I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU.

GIVE IT A SHOT.

YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I'M OUT OF CONTROL LIKE I'M
NOT ALONE, LIKE I, I, I LOVE YOU.  She winced,
awaiting his response.

With an awkwardness born of utter unfamiliarity
with what he was about to do, he leaned over and
kissed her with closed lips. Warmth spread across
his cheeks as he was gripped with wonder. Oh god,
it was real. He felt himself blush darker,
imagining she understood the words he'd mouthed
at her while they fucked.

I love you. I do.

He thought them again, his arms wrapped tight
around her.

That evening, at dinner, he laid his hand on her
knee underneath the table.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:
~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
 

The first time she gave him head they were playing D&D at
Kimmy's.

Langly'd had a couple of beers and Mordo The Wise hadn't
been wise enough to keep him from getting his cape-wearing
ass kicked and losing his last two hundred bucks on the
final roll of the night or morning or whatever 5 a.m. is
when a guy had been up since the morning before. Regardless
of the time, he lost his money to Langly.

The two conspirators snuck off while everyone else was
polishing off the last of the beer and pizza.

They were laying on the floor in between the bed and a pile
of coats, kissing, when Thea stuck her hand down the front
of his jeans.

He moved back a little and signed,  YOU WANNA, UM, YOU
THINK YOU MIGHT GO DOWN ON ME?

Her forehead wrinkled.  WHAT?

NEVER MIND, JUST NEVER MIND.  He was irritated and trying
unsuccessfully not to show it.

NO,  she signed, not even pretending to be polite,  WHAT
ARE YOU ASKING ME? I DON'T UNDERSTAND.

Oh.  That changed everything. He wracked his brain for a
way to say it. He picked his glasses up off the night
stand.

A BLOW JOB, he signed. GIVE ME A BLOW JOB?

That apparently wasn't clear enough because she repeated
herself again.  WHAT IS IT? WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?

His heart was pounding in his chest. The few times he had
it - all of four - he'd never had to spell it out.  It
sounded a lot dirtier if he had to say exactly what he
wanted.

He took a deep breath and signed, I WANT TO PUT MY DICK IN
YOUR MOUTH.  His hands weren't exactly stumbling, but he
wasn't signing smoothly, either.  YOU DON'T HAVE TO. I JUST
THOUGHT I'D ASK.

She slapped herself on the forehead.   FELLATIO! YOU WANT
FELLATIO. I'VE READ ABOUT THAT.

He nodded; verbally he had shot his wad.

"OKAY, BUT YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO HELP ME OUT. I'VE NEVER
DONE THIS BEFORE.  She lifted his shirt up over his head
then bent to pop open his jeans.

SOME QUESTIONS, she signed once she was in between his legs
with his dick bouncing against her face.

GO AHEAD.  Like there was much of a choice on his part.

THE SENSATION? IS IT LOCALIZED IN A PARTICULAR AREA OF THE
PENIS OR ARE THE NERVE RECEPTORS DISTRIBUTED EVENLY?

THE HEAD, he answered.  It wasn't the world's biggest turn
on to have his rod treated like a piece of hardware. SPREAD
THROUGHOUT, BUT MORE CONCENTRATED IN THE HEAD.

She was already rubbing her face against it like a cat,
only she didn't make him sneeze.  HOW SHOULD I START?

He put his thumb on her lower lip and pressed down softly.
YOU COULD KISS IT.

So she did. She ducked her head and kissed his cock, top to
bottom and back again.  Then she...

He couldn't account for it, she lost it and her dry kisses
went all over him, testicles to urethra and back again. She
stopped and lookup at him.

NOW LICK IT, he signed, trying to keep his breath even.

She nodded and started.

It was good. Real good. So good that after a few seconds he
had to close his eyes and just enjoy it. It was the first
time he'd ever really relaxed when he was getting head.
Hell Thea was the first girl he'd felt comfortable being in
the same room with since he was 12.

Mmmmmmmmmm it was even better when she slipped his piece
into her mouth. Big, soft lips and slow, wet tongue all
around him. And she was slowly taking it deeper and deeper
and. . .

Was she trying to deep throat him? Oh fuck.

Oh fuck!

Langly was coming and he was still in her mouth. He tried
his best to pull out, but she pushed her face down onto his
dick and grabbed his hands like some intense game of mercy.
He watched, fairly freaked out, while she swallowed and
swallowed.

 YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THAT, he told her while she wiped her
wet face on the Beat Farmers shirt she had taken from him.

She was smiling like he'd done something for her instead of
the other way around. WHAT PART DON'T I HAVE TO DO? I
THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY COOL, LIKE A MAGIC TRICK, SURE AS
HELL BETTER THAN MAKING FORT KNOX DISAPPEAR. TOO BAD I AM
ALL HOT NOW. I GUESS THAT'S WHY MY ARM'S THAT LONG, HUH?
WAS I OKAY? DID I DO OKAY?

He had to shake out his hands before he signed to her. YOU
WERE EXCELLENT.  BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO SWALLOW.

WHAT ELSE WOULD I DO?

SPIT? ALL THE OTHER TIMES, I MEAN, NOBODY EVER SWALLOWED
MY, UM,-

EJACULATE?

JUST SAY C-U-M, OKAY? he suggested.  WHEN YOU TALK LIKE
THAT YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I'M IN THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE.

YOU CAN TAKE THE GIRL OUT OF THE LAB BUT YOU CAN'T TAKE THE
LAB OUT OF THE GIRL, ME AND POPEYE, WE POTATO WHAT WE
POTATO.

Y-A-M. YOU YAM, NOT POTATO.  He giggled.  IT'S A HEARING
JOKE.  YAM SOUNDS LIKE...

Still smiling, she cut him off.  WHAT IF I LIKE IT? WHAT IF
I LIKE TO SWALLOW IT? WHAT IF I THINK IT'S GOOD?

Oh fuck.  The way she signed *good,* with her hand on her
mouth then back down to her lap, that was real sexy.  PLUS
IF NO ONE EVER SWALLOWED IT BEFORE THEN-   she gave him
this look, happy but scary too, like she wanted to suck his
dick all over again or something  -THEN I'M THE FIRST

Langly just had to gape at her for a minute. Sometimes it
felt to him like she was his first everything. Things
seemed weird, like he wanted to say something but he wasn't
sure what. He shut his mouth.

I SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING BEFORE NOW BUT YOU KNOW, WELL,
I THINK YOU'RE PRETTY, THEA.

She frowned at him, pissed off all of the sudden. YEAH,
RIGHT.  PUT ON YOUR GLASSES, she signed and pressed them
into his hand.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

If asked, she would have said it was the best six weeks of
her life up to that point. Her own physical and emotional
reactions led her to believe skin-to-skin contact with
Ringo Langly induced a state not unlike intoxication.
Although she would have been offended by its application,
the word 'giddy' would have been appropriate to describe
some of their behavior.

Around the third week, she did begin to feel some anxiety
when her menses did not arrive. She tried to convince
herself her breasts were tender from Langly's daily
attention. She had something of her mother's talent for
denial.

By the fifth week, she was torn between rosy joy at the
idea of carrying Langly's child and utter terror of being
rejected by him. Langly, of course, was blissfully unaware.

She made the decision to leave Takoma Park when she was no
longer able to button a pair of Ringo's tighter jeans. It
still took her eight days to work up the nerve to follow
through.

**********

She did not need to be able to hear them to know they were
arguing. Byers had followed her into her room as soon as
they'd gotten home from Delaware and started jabbering
this ridiculous shit at her. How he was shipping her off to
live with his aunt in Olympia, wherever that was. How
Langly was clearly taking advantage of her. She had been
too shocked to argue. If this was what he was telling her,
she could only imagine what he was saying to Ringo. It was
clearly time to leave.

Then he was in the kitchen shaking his fist at Ringo. She
was going, the few things she wanted to take with
her crammed into an old surplus military canvas bag. She
walked past the room on her way out and saw John's
clenched hand connect with Langly's jaw. Ringo swayed
for an instant then fell, not unconscious, but hurt and
knocked completely off-balance.

She sprinted to him before she could stop and remember that
she was leaving. She dropped her bag and cradled Langly's
head in her lap while Langly winced and rubbed the side of
his face.

ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS, BYERS? she signed, livid. WHAT DID
HE EVER DO TO YOU?

THEA, I TOLD YOU BEFORE, HE'S USING YOU, Byers signed back
his right hand clearly pained.

"Fro, get me an ice pack, will ya?" Langly croaked.

"Get it yourself, Stud," Fro answered, leaning against the
counter.

HOW DO YOU KNOW IT'S WRONG? HOW DO YOU KNOW HE WAS DOING
SOMETHING BAD TO ME? WERE YOU THERE IN BED WITH US? Thea
signed, squinting. HAVE YOU EVER SEEN HIM MISTREAT ME?
HAVE YOU EVER SEEN RINGO HURT ANYONE?

THEA, Byers leaned in ignoring Langly and signed slower,
smaller, YOU NEED TIME AWAY TO THINK ABOUT THIS, GET SOME
PERSPECTIVE, MEET BOYS YOUR OWN AGE.

"Fuck you - she's mine. She wants to be with me, you hear
that?  Me! You can't just send her off somewhere," Langly
snarled, his usually keen sense of self-preservation utterly
abandoned as his inner Neanderthal reared its sleepy head.
He was ready to hurl invective at Byers until his associate
felt compelled to beat him to death.

I DON'T WANT TO MEET BOYS MY OWN AGE. THEY ARE ALL MORONS.
BESIDES, I'M PREGNANT AND THAT USUALLY DOESN'T GET A GIRL A
LOT OF DATES, she signed, biting her lip angrily.

WHAT? Byers asked certain he had misunderstood the sign.

I AM GESTATING AN EMBRYO IN MY UTERUS, she signed.

Byers' mouth dropped open.

THERE IS A BABY IN ME. LANGLY'S BABY. CAN YOU UNDERSTAND
THAT SIGN? She gestured, frustrated, as the men went still
and silent.

"Oh god no," Byers whispered, and slumped down into the
couch.

Ringo's feelings were not immediately discernable since
Melvin Frohike's instantaneous response had been to grab
Langly by the tender top of his ear and pull with a slight
twisting motion until their faces were near level.

"Of all the dumbass, bonehead, moron bullshit ," he
punctuated each snarled word with a slap to the back of
Langly's skull.

Each slap elicited a whined "Shit!" from the recipient.

Thea picked Frohike by the back of his thick neck and he
let go.

But Langly didn't stop. "Shit Shit Shit!" he repeated, his
breath growing ragged, tears threatening to overflow from
his eyes. He shook his head to hold them back but instead
they rolled down his face. He couldn't get his brain around
the 'why' of any of it - why he was crying, why his chest
hurt, why his brain had gotten really slow really fast, why
they had to find out, why really cool things couldn't last.
Or why she was leaving.

He could tell she was leaving. That he knew, even through
his sudden fog, white cotton panties and cash in a bag
meant she was dumping him.

But pregnant? Thea couldn't have a baby - she was just a
kid. And he couldn't have a baby, either, because he was
just, well, just a guy who lived in a warehouse and had
made a whole seventy-two dollars and fifteen cents last
month. He felt like he was being sucked into a black hole.

Lord Manhammer, undisputed king of the meltdown, who
screamed and swore and abused inanimate objects at the
slightest provocation and who never had much cool to lose
in the first place, was losing what little he had.

With her mother's efficiency, Thea walked to the cabinet,
prepped the nebulizer with Prednisone, plugged it into the
jack nearest the couch, sat Ringo down beside Byers and
placed the breathing mask over his face.

ANY CHANCE WE COULD SEDATE HIM FOR A WHILE? she signed to
Frohike.

THAT'S NOT THE WORST IDEA YOU'VE HAD TODAY, he signed
before he began riffling through drawers. He tossed a pill
bottle her way. WHEN HE WAKES UP FROM ONE OF THESE BABIES,
IT WILL BE A BRAND NEW DAY.

She caught it deftly. Read the bottle, she nodded.

RINGO, YOU ARE FREAKING OUT, she signed. TAKE ONE OF THESE.

NO WAY, he signed, his shoulders heaving. SO YOU CAN CUT
AND RUN WHILE I'M ZONKED? He pointed to the canvas bag,
bleeding cash and underwear, abandoned on the floor.

She seemed desperate herself, suddenly. TAKE THE PILL.
YOU'RE ONLY MAKING YOUR SELF WORSE. YOU'RE HAVING A PANIC
ATTACK. FUCK. YOU SHOULD BE ON ANTI-ANXIETY MEDICATION.
TAKE THE PILL NOW.

SWEAR YOU'LL BE HERE WHEN I WAKE UP.

YES, RINGO, I SWEAR.

"Fro, promise you'll make sure she doesn't go anywhere."

"The level of trust you two have is truly touching. But
yeah, I'll keep her here." He walked toward them with a
glass of water, eyeing Byers thoughtfully. "You look like
you could use one, too."

He shook his head. "It's midnight; I think I'll go to bed
now," and he walked, toward the door, shaking his head all
the way. But in the doorway he stopped and turned around.

ALTHEA? He was the only one who ever spelled out her whole
name. PROMISE ME YOU WON'T RUN AWAY FROM HOME. DON'T ADD TO
THE MISTAKES ALREADY MADE, he signed wearily.

Thea nodded, gnawed by guilt, not because of her own
actions, but because of Byers' reaction.

Ringo, meanwhile, was fighting to stay awake. Every time
his eyes closed, he forced them wide again. Within a few
minutes he was gone and Thea stretched out her drugged
asthmatic aging prince full length on the couch, the
breathing mask still on his face.

SWEETHEART, YOU AND ME NEED TO HAVE A TALK, Frohike signed,
sitting down.

I THINK I NEED TO GO, she signed. I HAVE FUCKED UP ROYALLY.

YOU PROMISED THOSE TWO LUNKHEADS YOU WOULD BE HERE WHEN
THEY WOKE UP, Frohike signed tersely.

I ALSO SWORE I WOULD TAKE OUT THE TRASH, SO WHAT'S YOUR
POINT?

THAT STUPID ASSHOLE LANGLY THINKS YOU LOVE HIM.

Thea raised her chin defiantly. WHO SAYS I DON'T?

LET ME TELL YOU A LITTLE SOMETHING ABOUT THE MALE ANIMAL,
T-BONE. TELL A MAN YOU'RE HAVING HIS BABY THEN DUMP HIM AND
IT IS A GOOD BET HE'LL ASSUME THE ROMANCE IS OVER. Frohike
rubbed his palms together when he finished signing.

SHORT MAN, she signed impatiently, WERE YOU NOT IN THERE
WITH ME WHEN HE LOST IT? HE DOES NOT WANT ME TO HAVE THIS
BABY. I KNEW HE WOULDN'T. Her jaw kept clenching and
unclenching.

HONEY, THE CHOICE IS YOURS.

RIGHT. IF I STAY MY CHOICES ARE - she pretended to count
them off on her fingers - LET'S SEE? SUCTION, RU 486,
DILATION AND CURETTAGE, OR, OH YES, RINGO HATING ME AND HIS
BABY.

Frohike frowned. I MAY LIVE TO REGRET THIS, THEA, BUT WHAT
IF I PROMISE TO BACK YOU UP ALL THE WAY? HAVE YOUR BABY,
KEEP YOUR BABY. GIVE BYERS A NIGHT COOL OFF AND HE AIN'T
GONNA DISAGREE. AND LANGLY, HONESTLY, I'D SAY THE GUY IS
MORE SCARED THAN ANYTHING ELSE.

Thea paused before signing, HE DOESN'T HATE ME?

Frohike shook his head. GIVE HIM A WHILE TO GET OVER THE
SHOCK AND HE'LL BE OBNOXIOUSLY PROUD.

Thea looked doubtful.

BUT THIS IS THE EASY PART, SWEETIE. YOU'RE LOOKING AT A
LIFETIME COMMITMENT.

She straightened her shoulders. I KNOW THAT, she signed.

YOU KNOW BUPKIS. A BABY IS MORE WORK THAN YOU CAN EVEN
IMAGINE AT THIS POINT.

YOU EVER HAD ONE, MELVIN?

I HAD TWO, AND I WAS A LOUSY DAD.

RINGO WILL BE A GOOD DAD?

Frohike nodded. SURE HE WILL. JUST GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO GET
USED TO THE IDEA, he signed even as he said, "even if I
have to kill him to make him one."

Thea smiled but looked slightly nauseous.

YOU NEED ANYTHING? Fro asked.

She shook her head. Thea walked over to the refrigerator
and pulled it open. Melvin Frohike watched as the girl he
knew better than either of his own daughters chugged half a
gallon of milk straight out of the jug.

I COULD USE A NEW SOLDERING IRON. I CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT'S
WRONG WITH MINE. AS SOON AS I FIX ONE THING, SOMETHING
ELSE CRAPS OUT ON IT.

BABY, THAT THING IS OLDER THAN YOUR BOYFRIEND. I MEAN, ANY
SPECIAL FOOD OR ANYTHING YOU GOT A HANKERING FOR?

She appeared to give the matter serious thought. SPINACH,
she signed. I COULD EAT MY WEIGHT IN SPINACH.

Frohike nodded. He felt obligation to the girl on more
levels than he knew what to do with. She was not only the
daughter of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder, but she was a
friend who had once carried him, shot in the ass, the
length of a football field. She was a good hacker and a
better investigator, and hell even the fact that this was
Langly's kid she was carrying made him more tangled up in
the whole thing. Plus, when she wasn't eating him out of
house and home or making some mess and failing,
spectacularly, to clean it up, he just plain liked Thea.

I WANT YOU TO SEE SOMEBODY, he signed.

She frowned. He knew she was uncomfortable with the very
idea.

NOT A DOCTOR, he signed carefully. A MIDWIFE.

Thea pursed her lips. YOU KNOW, I COULD REALLY DO WITHOUT
SOME HIPPY CHICK STARING AT MY TWAT RIGHT NOW.

JESUS, DON'T EVEN TELL ME WHERE YOU LEARNED THAT WORD, he
signed. IT'S NOT SOME HIPPY CHICK. IT'S AN OLD FRIEND OF
YOUR FOLKS. HIS NAME'S CHUCK BURKES, HE USED TO CONSULT
FOR THEM FROM TIME TO TIME.

A MIDWIFE WHO CONSULTS FOR THE GOVERNMENT? She raised an
eyebrow.

MIDWIDERY IS SOMETHING HE PICKED UP IN INDIA. MORE OF A
SIDELINE. HIS REAL PROFESSION IS A LITTLE MORE ESOTERIC, he
signed in explanation.

HE'S NOT A DOCTOR? Thea asked.

HE'S A TECH TYPE GUY. YOU'LL LIKE HIM. I'D LIKE TO GIVE HIM
A CALL AND SEE IF HE CAN DROP BY TOMORROW, Frohike tried
make it sound low-key.

I'M NOT SICK. She scowled. I'M JUST REPRODUCING.

YOU WANT TO GET THIS BABY OFF TO A GOOD START?

She seemed to consider the question, then nodded.

YOU ARE GOING TO NEED TO HAVE PRENATAL CARE, Frohike
signed, feeling sad and old, but vaguely hopeful underneath
it all.

She looked dubious.

IF YOU WERE STILL IN THE LAB, WOULDN'T THE DOCTORS FOLLOW
THE BABY'S PROGRESS? THERE'S A REASON FOR THAT, HONEY. I
KNOW YOU WANT RINGO'S BABY TO BE HEALTHY AND I KNOW YOU'LL
LIKE CHUCK. He signed trying to reassure her.

She had run her hands through her short hair so many times
it was standing on end. YOU'RE SURE HE'S NOT A DOCTOR?

SCOUT'S HONOR, Melvin signed. Tough as she was Thea was as
jumpy as a cat about certain things.

I'M GOING TO PUT LANGLY TO BED. DO I NEED TO PRETEND LIKE
I'M GOING TO MY OWN ROOM AFTERWARDS? she signed tiredly.

AT THIS POINT, Melvin grumbled as he signed, THAT WOULD BE
AN INSULT TO BOTH OF US.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Ringo woke up with his face stuck to the sheet
and the profound sensation of being hung-over.
His head was ringing but he'd had the sweetest
dream about fucking T. She'd been so tender, so
gentle. When he thought about it, he knew it
wasn't real. That and they'd driven through DC on
a clear day with no traffic and hit nothing but
green lights. Then his shoe stuck to some bubble
gum and he was about to be eaten by an escalator.
He couldn't sort it out. He tried to remember if
That was before or after the mall full of giant
rabbits. Had he watched Night of the Lepus
lately?

Shit!

He attempted to open his eyes, only to realize
they were crusted shut. He rubbed them carefully,
trying to dislodge the seal, bit by bit flaking
them clear. As he continued rubbing, he began to
remember a less pleasant dream. Everyone
started hitting him and T said she was pregnant.
And then she was going to leave him. As if he
hadn't played that particular scenario out in his
head a couple of thousand times over the last six
weeks.

He tried to bury his face in his hands and wound
up shrieking 'OOOOOOOWWWWWW!' to no one in
particular.

So the second one wasn't a dream after all.
At least the getting punched part was verifiable.
Byers really had hit him.

He laid his pillow over his face trying to remember.
He had called Byers a cocksucker; Byers had said, no,
That was, in fact, what Langly had turned T into.
He recalled accusing Byers of being jealous, of
wishing he was the one getting blown.

So Byers had clocked him.

And then Thea was there.

Pregnant? Did she really say she was pregnant?

 As much as he wanted to stay in  bed and avoid the
night before, he had to get up and see if she was still
there.

So Ringo pissed, put on his robe, and staggered
around, squinting for Thea. He found his glasses
on the kitchen table.

Dressed, pressed, and nicely brushed, Byers
looked at him. "Well, if it isn't the proud
papa," he said, as sarcastic as Ringo had ever
heard him.

Ringo answered him, cringing. "Lay off, will ya?
I know I screwed up. Is Thea still here?"

Byers nodded. "Chuck Burkes," he enunciated too
clearly for Ringo's comfort, "is giving her a
pelvic exam."

"Burkes?" Langly repeated dumbly.

"Did you know he was a licensed Nurse Midwife?"
Byers had a sip of his coffee.

Ringo shook his head considering the possibility
and finding it weird.

"Neither did I, but it seems he is."  Byers took
another drink.

Langly tested exactly how far he could open his
mouth before the dull ache became a roar, and
took a minute to think. Since Thea wasn't gone,
he lost his urgent desire to see her. In fact
he'd like to put off talking to her until he came
up with a half an idea of what their next move
should be.  Next he tried moving his mouth side
to side.

"Owwwww! Where's Fro?"

"Translating," Byers answered. "And also, I would
imagine, protecting Chuck just in case he manages
to irritate the new mother-to-be."

Ringo laid his face on the cool Formica table
top. It felt really nice. Maybe he could get a
bed made out of the stuff.

"How's your, um, face?" Byers asked, watching
Langly closely.

Langly shrugged. "Okay. Think Fro gave me a
concussion, though."

"Why did you do it?" Byers asked quietly.

Langly's head was still pressed to the table.
"Fu...you mean, sleep with her?"

"Sleep with, impregnate, whatever. All of it."
He leaned a little closer to Langly. "What were
you thinking?"

Langly whispered something unintelligible to the
table.

"Excuse me?"

"Love. I love her," Langly repeated softly. "The
pregnant thing was an accident."

Byers looked surprised. "You're certain?"

"About what?"

"That you love her?" Byers cleared his throat and
squared his shoulders. "Because if you do, your
course is clear."

Langly rubbed his eyes again. "I got about four
functioning brain cells this morning. Get to the
point, Bruiser."

"Langly, you are living with a, a woman, who is
carrying your child, who you also claim to be in
love with." Byers folded his hands neatly on the
table top. "It seems fairly obvious what you
should be doing."

"Me and T - married?" He pictured the awful
powder blue tuxedos from his older brother's
wedding in '83, then for some reason Fro dressed
up as a flower girl. "Oh yeah that'll work "

"Then maybe you don't love, her after all."

"Kiss my ass, Suit."

"Either you love her and you want to spend the
rest of you life with her or this is just about
you getting your questionable needs met.

Langly said nothing.

"Look Langly, we all get lonely, but your actions
are having serious repercussions, for all of us.
You realize she was leaving because she wants to
have this baby and she was worried what you'd
say? She's very young. Too young to be expected
to make a rational decision about this. "

If she was too young to make a rational decision,
how the hell was she old enough to get married?
Langly frowned closing his eyes. He wanted to
tell Byers he'd marry her that day, but he
couldn't. It was scary. She was the only chick
he'd ever been with more than once. And he had
strong feelings for her, man, did he ever.

Every time they screwed he'd get choked up and
wind up making her swear they'd be 'buds for
life.'  That was easy. He couldn't imagine not
having her with him.

But married? And a baby? It made his head feel
light and his stomach rise.

"It's not her, Byers. It's me "

"I'm sure she'll find that very comforting when
she's living on the street with your child."

"Fuck off."

"Or perhaps they'll both wind up in a lab
somewh-"

Frohike and Burkes wandered in to the room deep
in conversation. "-dates she gave me can't be
right."

"You're sure?"

"What's the word?" Langly asked from behind his
hands.

"Looks like you're off the hook, Blondie. Burkes
says there's no way she can be six weeks and she
swears up and down that's the first time you two
did the deed."

"Chuck's wrong," Langly groaned, his face still
hidden.

Burkes looked surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Let me show ya something." Langly stood up,
pulling his robe close around him, and gestured
to them to follow him to his room.

"If this was medieval Europe," he began, peeling
the sheets off his mattress and revealing a dark,
bat-shaped stain at its center, "you could put it
out on the sidewalk for all the old women of the
village to have a look at, too."

"Well, I've seen enough," Byers said to no one in
particular, and left the room.

"Six weeks ago, huh?" Frohike leaned closer to
the mattress.  He touched the blood stain with
one finger.

Langly dropped the sheets in a pile at his feet.
"If she's pregnant, it's mine."

"Oh, she's definitely pregnant," Chuck said,
looking puzzled. "Very pregnant. Look, I'm going
to get out my ultrasound out of the car. I'll be
right back."

Frohike and Langly eyed each other for several
uncomfortable minutes, until Langly couldn't take
it anymore.  He sat heavily on the edge of the
bare mattress and covered his face.

"I love her, Hickey." Langly's his breath was
starting to come in gasps. "I, I, I don't know
if I can do this."

Frohike sighed heavily. " Pull yourself together,
Tough Guy. You freak out on her again and the
kid's gonna split. She's 17, she's deaf, she's
pregnant, she's got nobody but us and none of her
marketable skills are exactly legal."

Langly somehow managed to sniff back tears and
snarl at the same time. "Watch it."

"I meant hacking and B & E, Dumbass.  She needs you
for this. Don't fool yourself into thinking she'll be
better off without you."

"Man, I gotta go talk to her."

"Damn straight you do," Frohike agreed. "Just
remember-you make her cry - I make you cry - again."

So Langly trudged off to see Thea. Too bad he had
no idea what he was going to say.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
 

The next time Frohike saw either of them they were kissing.
One of Thea's fists was wrapped in Langly's wet hair and
his head was bent back uncomfortably. Ringo's eyelids were
fluttering - he looked, in that second, as if Thea's kisses
had a narcotic effect. It took Melvin Frohike aback, but he
supposed they'd had their talk.

And they had, such as it was.

Ringo, red eyed, the left side of his face a vivid blue
bruise, smelling of sweat, sleep, and medicine, let himself
into her room to find her bent over, pulling jeans up over
her naked ass.

She turned around, mildly surprised.

SORRY. He had practiced signing an apology all the way to
her room so he was ready when he burst in on her.

NO BIG. YOU OKAY, RINGO? Her brow wrinkled as she signed.

I FEEL LIKE CRAP BUT I DON'T THINK I NEED TO FILE FOR
PERMANENT DISABILITY, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN. HOW ARE YOU
FEELING? he signed, staring at her flat stomach.

MY CERVIX IS TIGHTLY CLOSED AND MY UTERUS IS LARGE AND
HARD, MY BLOOD IS HIGH IN IRON, LOW IN SUGAR, AND CHOCK
FULL OF HUMAN CHORIONIC GONADATROPIN, MY BLOOD PRESSURE IS
LOW, AND CHUCK SAYS I HAVE THE HEART RATE OF A TREE SLOTH.
HE MADE ME DRINK THE GROSSEST DRINK - here she shook her
shoulders and stuck out her tongue in revulsion - AND I'VE
GIVEN SO MUCH BLOOD AND URINE I THINK I'VE BEEN CLEARED TO
RUN IN THE KENTUCKY DERBY. She shook her hands when she was
done.

THAT'S COOL BUT, UM, he faltered, HOW DO YOU FEEL?

HUNGRY? she signed.

YOU PISSED AT ME?

NO, she signed and shook her head at the same time.  Biting
the inside of her cheek she went on, YOU MAD AT ME?

He shook his head back at her. He took a deep breath in
preparation for what he was about to tell her.  T, I LOVE
YOU.

She waited a moment, then signed, YOU LOVE THE BABY TOO?

He fidgeted. I'LL LOVE THE BABY WHEN IT GETS HERE.

BUT YOU DON'T HATE IT? YOU PLAN ON LOVING IT?

He pushed his glasses up and smiled, albeit unconvincingly.
CHUCK WANTS TO GIVE YOU AN ULTRASOUND. WOULD IT BE COOL IF
I WAS THERE WITH YOU?

He must have said the right thing, because Thea took this
as her cue to grab Langly roughly and kiss him thoroughly,
forgetting for a moment about his jaw.

As soon as she let him go he signed, MIND IF I TAKE A
SHOWER? I'D LIKE TO BE DRESSED THE FIRST TIME I SEE MY KID.

His kid, Langly thought. It looked weird, it sounded weird,
it *was* weird. But with the two of them for parents, it
was bound to be a weird kid.

In some way he couldn't quite explain, Langly found that
thought very comforting.
 

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Langly hated the ultrasound even before it started. The
light was off in Froman's room and Thea liked light.

Burkes explained that because she was so early it would be
necessary to do the ultrasound internally. Which meant he
took a slender wand attached to the monitor by a short
coiled cord, rolled a condom onto it, slathered the thing
in blue conductive goo and put it in her.

Langly thought he was going to faint. Thea looked bored.

Ringo reached out and held her hand. She spelled into his
palm. YOU OKAY?

He shook his head. YOU? DOES IT HURT?

PLEASE, she signed shaking her head and she rolled her eyes
trying keep still for the exam, YOU ARE EASILY TWICE THE
DIAMETER OF THAT PROBE AND YOU DON'T HURT ME.

Ringo was embarrassed. He knew he was utterly average and
the probe was small. Thea was no delicate flower. What was
wrong with him?

Suddenly Burkes spoke. "Well look at that, you don't see
that every day. Actually, I personally have never seen that
before. Wow."

Langly practically jumped out of his skin. "What?!?!"

RINGO? Thea signed, looking panicked. WHAT'S WRONG?

"Sorry, that was unprofessional of me," Burkes said,
straightening himself.  He looked at Thea and shook his
head.  "There isn't a problem," he said, enunciating each
word very carefully. He gave her the thumbs up. "Everything
looks great."

Langly blinked. He felt as if something was squeezing his
brain. "So everything is okay? Normal?"

Burkes shook his head. "Not normal, no. More like unusual."
He nodded toward the monitor, then held up three fingers as
he smiled. "What you've got here is triplets."

Langly made a conscious effort to slow his breathing
despite the feeling of vertigo that seized him. "Triplets?
She's going to have three uuhhh three uuhh--"

Thea's eyes grew wide. THREE? She signed

"Three, yes. Which is unusual without fertility treatment."
Burkes pointed to a few dark bean-shaped areas on the
screen that, to Langly, looked no different than the rest
of the image. "One, two, three. There is an increased risk
of spontaneous abortion with multiple pregnancies, but
she's in great physical shape, really great shape."  He
turned his attention to Thea again. "Your blood sugar is
low, hematocrit high, large pelvic opening. It's almost
like you were designed for this.  The only weird part
is. . ." Chuck's voice trailed off.

Langly swallowed. "What?"

"See this?" Chuck drew both their attention to the screen.
"These are the babies and-" he pointed slightly higher on
the screen "-this is the placenta."

"Why is that weird?"

"One placenta means they started out as a single zygote.
Which means they're identical. Identical triplets. Most
midwives or OBs never see a case like this. "This is the
opportunity of a lifetime."  He slipped the wand out and
tossed the condom in Frohike's wastepaper basket. "I have to
thank Frohike for calling me in."

"Let me tell her about it, okay?" Langly told Burkes.

"Sure," Burkes agreed as he helped Thea off the bed and
began packing his equipment.  "This is incredible, though,
Langly. Special. Make sure she knows that."

He tried. He really did. He didn't know if he succeeded. It
didn't matter what was going on in her head, most of the
time Thea had three whole facial expressions in her
repertoire, which Langly privately named The Big Scully
Smile, The Mannequin, and The Crying Like a Duck. He didn't
know if he was relieved or disappointed that he got The
Mannequin.

I THINK HE MIGHT BE RIGHT. I THINK I WAS DESIGNED TO DO IT
LIKE THAT she signed, after wiping herself indelicately
with Frohike's bed sheet, standing and buttoning her jeans.
I THINK IT EVEN MAKES SENSE.

The rest of the day was strange and uncomfortable. The
Gunmen worked on the paper because it gave them something
to do, but they spoke as little as possible.

Langly tried to work on a piece he had researched on the
link between specific food additives and violent behavior,
but somehow he wound up reinforcing the group's many
internet firewalls, instead.  Having finished that, he made
sure every office chair in the place rolled freely and
provided optimal lumbar support. He didn't realize it, but
in his own unique way, he was already anxiously nesting.

Thea, for her part, drank a gallon of milk while furiously
typing on the floor while Langly worked on her chair. Her
article was fairly typical for her - a Marxist
deconstruction of the capitalist propaganda content of the
latest Saturday morning cartoon.  Byers would have to edit
for length and readability and it would inevitably wind up
being about a third of its original length.  She kept
herself busy, just in case Langly was trying to ignore her.

Langly spent the day practically pining to ask her to play
the new game he'd gotten fresh from Hong Kong that
afternoon but he was so worried what the guys would say he
couldn't. Around midnight he gave up - but instead of
proposing a simulated fight to the death he stood beside
her monitor and signed WANT TO GO TO BED?

BEST OFFER I'VE HAD TODAY, she signed. NIGHT GUYS, she
signed to the other two, who bade them goodnight with
studious carelessness.

Langly made certain to look them both in the face,
nervously defiant, as he led her away by the hand.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
 

His bedroom door at her back, Thea unceremoniously stripped
off her shirt and made an attempt to engage Langly in their
traditional out-of-the-other-guy's-eyeshot liplock.

She did not seem to understand his problem. Perhaps certain
intricacies of human sexual behavior were permanently
beyond her grasp.

Not even a full two months away from her virginity, she was
fluent in the mechanics of sex. Thea held a solid
understanding of touch and pressure. She knew that her lips
on her lover's nipple would bring his hands to her hair
with Pavlovian dependability.  She knew from experience
that three slow wet circuits along his shaft with her
tongue would leave him shuddering and unable to sign.  She
had no idea why he was looking at her that way. Afraid.
Like they had never done this before.

But as far as he was concerned, they hadn't.

Before that day he had been aroused and impressed by her
utter lack of sexual shame. At that particular moment, he
was horrified that she realized Fro and Byers knew what
they were about to do and she didn't care at all.

Besides, she was pregnant.

She had no idea that, even under ideal circumstances, he
spent at least a half an hour after sex feeling guilty. She
had never been able to decide exactly what he meant when he
signed 'dirty,' since it seemed to mean both too perverse
to contemplate and too pleasurable to pass up. It had taken
him almost a month to work up the nerve to ask for
fellatio. He would have been begging for it every day after
that but she was so eager he didn't have a chance.

Thea Fidelis had spent her first five years of life in a
Plexiglas tank. The information she received in the topic
of
sex was no more biased than the information wires fed into
her
brain on a thousand other topics. She had strong urges
herself since her fifth year out of the tank.  Later, in
her life above water, she saw women try to use sex to save
themselves and fail miserably. Tiresome, risky, and they
didn't seem to enjoy it. The entire thing seemed stupid.
The trouble  was she had been designed for sex, to desire
it, to excel at it. She was also designed to rank the
welfare of her  loved ones above her own. She was a
praetorian and despite the modifications that had been made
to the original model, she was her father's daughter.

From the beginning she noticed things about Langly. The way
sometimes his pupils would grow wide when they were
wrestling. The way his gaze rested on her several seconds
longer than it ever fell on Frohike or Byers.  She had a
certain t-shirt that was tighter than most of her others,
and when she wore it, he would frequently put an abrupt end
to wrestling mid-game with some completely lame excuse.  He
was different. He had those feelings Gibson lacked. Though
she hadn't believed they were aimed at her.

Until the kiss.

Overnight, a world that had been sepia toned became vivid
Technicolor. For Thea, it was the difference between
knowing the atomic weight of carbon and holding a perfect
diamond in her hand. Once she put her research into
practice with the object of her adoration, her sexual
feelings were roughly as conflicted as the average golden
retriever's.

The situation was somewhat different for her lover.

Richard Langly received a wealth of messages about sex in
his early life, most of them contradictory. His parents
produced seven children but he had only ever seen them kiss
on the cheek.  Inseminating cows was a yearly activity on
the farm, but human reproduction was a skillfully avoided
topic. Little Ringo watched Captain Toby longer than he'd
believed in God. Still, somewhere in the neighborhood of a
thousand Sundays spent keeping a church pew warm took their
toll. He might have been an iconoclast, a rabble rouser,
and an undoubted atheist, but somewhere beneath it all, he
was a nice God-fearing Lutheran boy.

Marybeth Langly's grip extended beyond the grave and all
the way to Takoma Park, Maryland, when her son looked at
the topless girl beckoning him from the bed. He couldn't
talk. He couldn't sign. The only thing he didn't have a
problem doing was getting it up. 'Chagrined' may not
have been the right word, but it was close.

Another realization pummeled him. Exactly two people
claimed to love him in his entire life. One had given birth
to him. The other was laying on his bed, the signs of his
residence not yet apparent, but he was growing in her, too.
He wasn't used to thinking in those kinds of terms.

It made his head hurt, but Byers was right - he'd feel a
lot better if they got married.  She didn't seem much like
a wife, but then he wasn't exactly promising husband
material himself. He'd never want to spend the rest of his
life stuck with a wifey-type chick, anyway. But then, if he
married Thea, she'd be his wife.

If he had been one of those androids from the original Star
Trek series, he would have blown up already.

He closed his eyes and tried thinking it through again.

He'd spent his entire adult life bitching about not getting
laid; it looked like that one had turned around and bit him
on the ass in a big way. It was one of those things that
left him feeling remarkably clueless. Marriage? Kids ? He'd
seemed pretty safely distanced from the possibility until
Thea came along.

A scene from his boyhood sprang to mind. He was 14,
listening to music in his room when his father called him
to the kitchen table.

He could hear the low rough voice even now.  "Take this as
a warning, Ringo. You get some girl bad off, like Tommy did
Meg, and you're gonna marry her. Don't think you're too
good to pay for your mistakes."

His mother made him jump running her palm down the back of
his neck and granting him her unsolicited vote of
confidence. "Ritchie wouldn't do that, would you, Baby?"

His father had actually laughed. "Marybeth, this fool'll
get in trouble with the first girl dumb enough to let him."

But things with Tom and Meg seemed to work out okay.  And
if Tom Langly could do it at 18, Richard Langly could do it
at 37.

He hoped.

He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Thea casually
playing with her nipples. Oh lord, he could so do this. He
ran his finger along the top edge of her jeans then dropped
his head in defeat.

Byers and Frohike were still out there, still knew what
they were doing. I'M SORRY, he signed to her I JUST...I
CAN'T...THE GUYS, THEY KNOW WHAT WE'RE DOING, GOING TO DO.

She looked at him curiously. IF THEY DIDN'T GUESS AFTER THE
PREGNANT THING, IT WOULD BE KIND OF PATHETIC.

He didn't know what to say to that.

IT DOESN'T MAKE YOU FEEL WEIRD? he signed.

NO. WHY? SHOULD IT? She stretched on the small bed. FROHIKE
BRINGS HOME WOMEN SOMETIMES. REMEMBER THAT REALLY DUMB ONE,
DOT? YOU DIDN'T THINK THEY WERE READING SPINOZA IN HIS
ROOM, DID YOU?

She had him there. He shrugged.

WILL YOU MAKE ME COME? She unbuttoned her pants. OR DO I
HAVE TO DO IT MYSELF?

Langly swallowed hard. RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF ME? he
signed, fascinated and scandalized. He thought it was
possibly the hottest offer he'd had in his life.  He felt
slightly faint.

IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'VE NEVER SEEN ME HAVE AN ORGASM, she
signed casually.

He removed his shoes and sat vigilantly at the foot of the
bed. She seemed surprised that it interested him so much.
She slipped her hand down the front of her jeans, actually,
she was wearing his pants, his jeans, her hand, her hot
wet... ohgodohgod. He leaned forward in hope of getting
closer look.

TAKE THEM OFF, he signed, tapping her knee.

She arched her eyebrow.

YOUR PANTS. SO I CAN SEE BETTER. I MEAN, IF YOU WANT TO, IF
IT'S OKAY, he back-pedaled.

She grinned the big grin and slipped them off. When her
back arched mid-strip, he thought for a brief second that
he was going to have to get his inhaler.

The first two fingers on her left hand were rubbing little
circles on her clit. He watched enraptured, not even aware
his right hand was pressing intermittently against his
straining erection. Thea, however, noticed and was suddenly
exponentially more aroused.

WILL YOU OPEN YOUR- ? He faltered. He had a hard time with
descriptive terms for female anatomy.

IF YOU GET OUT YOUR PENIS, she signed stopping her hand for
a moment.

She spread her labia.

He loved her hands. They were elegant, with long, tapered
fingers and perfect blunted ovals for nails, even if the
edges tended to be ragged and chewed.  A chick's hands.

Her clit was firmly between two fingertips, like a
cigarette. He'd never seen anything like that in a movie.
It was possibly the coolest thing he'd seen in his life.
How could he marry a chick like that? It would be like
finding the rarest, most beautiful butterfly.

Then sticking a pin straight through its chest.

He struggled to throw off the sickening  glare of
Self-consciousness even as he watched Thea's fluttering
fingers, like this was his own personal porno movie. He
could all but feel her gaze stroking him. It was easily the
dirtiest thing he'd done in his life.

Sure, he was uncomfortable but not uncomfortable enough to
stop, not as long as her hand was moving, not as long
as his eyes were on her.

Then she started making that noise, that  muted but
insistent whining that seemed to emanate from the hollow
of her throat and meant orgasm was no more than ten seconds
away.

He forgot to feel vulnerable, unattractive, and ashamed.

Like that he fell, his hand a blur, his pale eyelashes
fluttering. His shoulders hunched and his hips jerked.
White pearls of semen began to jet everywhere, spilling in
surges on Ringo's hand, abdomen, and bed.

He was still shaking and stuttering when she took his hand
in hers and licked it clean.  By the time her tongue had
moved on to collect the shining drops from the stream of
light red hair that stretched to his navel, he was no
longer shivering, but gasping like a fish in the bottom of
a boat.

"Oh Oh Oh," he whispered.

THAT WAS THOROUGHLY ENJOYABLE, she signed, smiling broadly
at him.

He wasn't sure whether he felt like he'd robbed a bank or
won the lottery.

John Byers did not immediately start to watch Ringo and
Thea closely; he simply began to pay unobtrusive attention
to what he would have noted peripherally only a short time
before. Only the smallest of visible changes had taken
place. They still spent most of their time at their
monitors - intent, focused - or leaning over the same
keyboard, all their touches inconsequential, glancing.

All this time, he had assumed that Langly was attentive and
lacking his ever-present sarcasm with Thea because she was
young, female, and handicapped. Byers had been dead wrong.
He failed to take into account how often Langly looked at
her, or how often he brought her things - ideas, articles,
games, new software - and when something caught her fancy,
the man would get that smug 'just hacked the D.O.D.' look.
He took suggestions from her that, coming from anyone else,
would have merited a resounding 'fuck you.'

His uneasy conclusion was that their behavior didn't seem
to have changed at all. Thea and Langly had been in love
for some time.

Byers used to think all Gunmen were equal in Thea's eyes.
No more. She gazed at Langly, Byers realized, just like
Mulder gazed at Scully. She jumped to his defense even when
he didn't exactly deserve it. She also scrutinized him from
the very beginning. He was unsettled to recall the day,
just a few months after her arrival, when she observed
conversationally that Ringo would eat anything red. He
would. It was true. But in 16 years neither he nor Frohike
had ever spent enough time thinking about their associate's
eating habits to draw that conclusion. She couldn't get her
clothes washed without prodding but she could keep a
painstaking mental record of Langly's asthma attacks and
myriad allergies. She never put Frohike in a headlock.

He'd always imagined Langly was, well, a bit naive. He
seemed that way even now, his arms wrapped around her in
his sleep. Naive didn't seem like the right word for a
grown man going to bed with a girl not even old enough to
sign a lease.

They had fallen asleep on the couch, again. Her heartburn
must have been bothering her. She had three pillows wedged
tightly behind her back, keeping her in a sitting position
as she slept. Langly was in the fetal position both on top
of and beside her, and it looked uncomfortable. The couch
clearly hadn't been designed for two six foot tall people.

Byers became uncomfortably aware that, in his sleep,
Langly was nuzzling Thea's nipple through her t-shirt.

John Byers replaced the quilt they had kicked off, poured
the cereal he had come for, and returned to his bed.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

It was all Kimmy's fault. He got out the ice cream
sandwiches. A case of cheap ice cream sandwiches. Everyone
else just devoured them like a pack of bespectacled
hyenas. Everyone, that is, except for Thea. It was Mordo's
roll and she would have sworn she smelled the sugar in the
air. It made her skin itch and it set her teeth on edge.

She looked at Ringo. He was sucking the ice cream out of
the middle the way he always did. He tilted his head as he
pulled in his cheeks. If she kissed him right then his
mouth would taste cold and chocolaty.

She barely made it to Kimmy's bathroom in time to vomit.
Instead of the toilet she let the vomit go in his
sink - the sink was closer.

"Oh gross!!!! Shut the door, will you! Christ on a crutch,
Manhammer, 32-of-A  has the manners of Genghis Khan. Where
was she born, in a barn?"

"Lay off Kimmy. T's just got some food poisoning. Besides
she came from a lab not a barn, that was you, Kimmy the dog
faced boy." It was a joke of his to tell the truth - since
nobody'd believe anyway.

"Didn't you use that excuse last week - food poisoning, the
week before that it was stomach flu. You wanna know what I
think?" Kimmy said gleefully.

"No, Kimmy, nobody wants to know what you think," Langly
said pushing his glasses up with his middle finger.

"I think Fido caught something, alright. I think Shaggy's
knocked up Scooby. Ruck me Raggy," Kimmy howled in
pseudo-ecstasy, enjoying his cartoon imitation a bit too
much.

"SHUT UP KIMMY! And if you call her that again I'm gonna
beat your misshapen head in." Langly stepped toward him.

"I think," Kimmy smirked but backed up cagily, "Lord
Manhammer's little boyfriend is going to have puppies."

Langly slammed Kimmy into the wall but once he got him
there was at a loss for what to do next. "Go buy some
apples, sphincter boy," he sneered, dragging Kimmy by the
front of his shirt across his living room.

"What?" Kimmy was frightened, puzzled, and vaguely pissed
off.

"She likes apples and all you have around here is crap that
makes her sick. And stop talking shit - if she's such a
dog, how come every time she bends over I catch you
checking out her ass? GO! NOW!" And with that he threw
Kimmy out his own front door.

He leaned against the wall wondering if he had lost his
mind. All the guys were staring at him like a pier full of
netted fish - they gasped, they gaped, they stared
unblinking.

Until Thea came out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth on
her arm. All eyes turned to her.

She looked around at the shocked and somber faces and
laughed like a seal. WHAT'S WRONG WITH THESE ASSHOLES?  She
signed to Langly.

KIMMY FIGURED OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT, he signed.

SO? Her eyes swept around the room. She gestured to Mordo,
signing very, very slowly. She grinned. ANYBODY WANT TO SEE
MY BELLY?

Langly scowled and Mordo nodded.  Langly felt himself blush
when she unzipped her jeans in front of everyone to show
off the hard, shallow dome that had mere weeks before been
utterly flat.

Male pride zinged through him like adrenalin. He'd done
that. No one even had to ask. That was his work and
everyone knew. Macho? Did he feel macho?

Langly couldn't exactly explain why he suddenly had goose
bumps, just that he did. Watching Mordo and a couple of
brave others touch Thea's naked abdomen, the hair on his
arms stood up and his spine went straight. He, who embodied
post-industrial man with his extended adolescence and his
life lived devoted to abstracts concepts, had a Neanderthal
impulse. He wanted to take a rock and bash in the skull of
any male who dared to lay a finger on his woman. Needless
to say, the feeling shocked him and he stood very still
until it passed.

Then he said something sarcastic.

The game proceeded very close normal except that from time
to time Langly would notice his gaming buddies, who, he
grudgingly admitted, were Thea's gaming buddies too after
the last two years, stealing looks at her. Looks that
ranged from fear, to lust, to curiosity, to embarrassment.
He wanted to make them stop prodding her with their eyes,
set up a little screen around her, make her wear a veil or
something. Maybe even a ring. The thought thrilled,
embarrassed, and horrified him in equal parts.

She sat the way she always had, closer to him than to
anyone else, but careful not to touch. He drew a few inches
nearer and slipped his arm around her waist. That felt
better. He puffed out his chest and rolled.

When Kimmy returned an hour later, he had apples. Granny
Smith and Red Rome.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

He finally got it together to propose. He wasn't feeling
too guilty, or scared, or tense. It was amazing really,
that it only took him sixteen days of going over it in his
head to do it, considering how much time Langly spent
feeling 'not right.' At eight weeks, the pregnancy was now
obvious - when she was naked, she looked like a boa
constrictor that swallowed the rabbit.

The two of them were sitting at their monitors, same old
same old. When he sent the words to her screen.

WANNA GET HITCHED?

He held his breath as he watched her puzzle over the words.
It wasn't a hard question. She either wanted to or she
didn't.

LIKE A HORSE? AND YOU CALL ME KINKY!

He rolled his eyes at the monitor. Langly typed in the next
words impatiently.

MARRIED, T - DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED? TO ME?

This time her brow smoothed as she read.

Her answer was swift, if not effusive.

OKAY.

He found himself smiling and wanting to jump up and down,
although he sat very still.

OKAY? REALLY? YOU WILL?

SURE. YOU THINK SHORT MAN WILL HAVE LUNCH READY SOON?

Langly wanted her to be more excited. He was excited. He
didn't realize an officially recognized union was roughly
as significant to her as a trip the DMV.

I GOT YOU A RING, he typed hoping her lack of enthusiasm
was all in his head.

WHAT FOR? She asked.

Could that be right? He thought over her life as he knew
it. She'd been in a tank, and a lab, and a deaf school, and
then living on the street with Gibson. Was it possible in
all that she'd missed the significance of a wedding ring?
Maybe even marriage in general? She wasn't dumb she had to
know what it was, but maybe the deeper meaning had by
passed her.

A WEDDING RING, T. IT'S TRADITIONAL. He waited for her
response.

Oh. I'VE NEVER KNOWN ANY MARRIED PEOPLE. HAVE YOU?

He stared at the screen for a minute before he started to
type.

A FEW, YEAH.

LIKE WHO?

Langly blinked, then typed:

BYERS WAS MARRIED WHEN WE FIRST MET HIM BUT SHE KICKED HIM
OUT FOR SPENDING TOO MUCH TIME WITH ME AND HICKEY. FRO WAS
MARRIED MANY MOONS AGO, IN THE 70's. ALL MY BROTHERS AND
SISTERS HAVE BEEN MARRIED SINCE THEY WERE YOUR AGE. MY
PARENTS WERE MARRIED. I COME FROM A LONG LINE OF MARRIED
PEOPLE. IT'S WHAT MOST PEOPLE DO, T.

He saw an expression flicker across her face, but from his
vantage point he couldn't see what it was.

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN MARRIED BEFORE?

Oh that's what that look was. Cool. It made him feel
reassured that she was jealous. He waited a second before
he replied with a smug:

NO

GOOD. CAN I SEE THE RING?

IT'S IN MY ROOM, he answered. SHUT DOWN AND I'LL SHOW YOU.

They went to his room but somehow didn't get around to
looking at the ring that day.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Yves Adele Harlow looked peevishly into the surveillance
camera in the alley and tapped her foot. She would never
have imagined those two geniuses could be so abominably
stupid. Careless. Idiotic. True, Langly had always
evidenced a certain impulsiveness. Miss Fidelis had
appeared to be more sensible than that, but Yves supposed
there were certain things being reared by lab techs might
not prepare one for. Still, she mused, a Zeus Genetics
nursery was most likely no more dehumanizing than the
average daycare center.

Yves had assumed the girl would get him into bed at some
point. She'd just reckoned that anyone intelligent enough
to do the work Thea did was also smart enough to use birth
control. Hearing buzz that Langly had bared Fidelis's belly
to a throng of geeks somewhere and beaten Kimmy Belmont
bloody, Yves was embarrassed that she hadn't been more
proactive.

"Guys," she waved at the camera, "let me in." After a
moment, she heard the snick of seven locks and saw the
face of Melvin Frohike.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" Frohike said
mock-graciously.

"Where are they?" She asked him point blank.

"I take it you're here to offer congratulations?" Byers
looked up from his accounting.

"So it's true, then?" she asked.

Byers nodded.

"Where'd you hear? If it was Burkes, I'm gonna kick his ass
but good," Frohike fumed.

"Where haven't I?" she asked casually. "Word around the
cyber campfire these days is that Ringo Langly beat Kimmy
Belmont senseless for insulting one Thea Fidelis, then
proceeded to proudly display Miss Fidelis' distended
abdomen to the assembled crowd."

Frohike and Byers stared wide eyed. "Crap," Frohike
whispered.

"We knew we weren't going to be able to hide it forever."
Byers sounded resigned.

"I'v heard the tale from eight different sources in the
past forty-two hours. In one version, Kimmy wound up
unconscious. In another, your young associate was carrying
triplets," Yves continued.

"The part about the triplets is true," Byers replied, "but
we saw Kimmy yesterday and he looked fine."

"He did seem kinda..." Frohike winced

"Furtive?" Byers supplied.

"Squirrelly," Frohike amended.

"When isn't Kimmy squirrelly?" Yves asked rhetorically.
She let out a sigh. "My god, those two are stupid."

Frohike shrugged. "It happens everyday, sweetheart; boy
meets girl."

"Thirty-seven is hardly a boy," Byers interrupted.

Yves frowned. "So where are they?"

Frohike cracked his knuckles as he spoke. "Myra and Jerry
Lee are out looking for a judge who doesn't have a grudge
against the groom to marry them."

Yves considered it. There were an avalanche of factors that
would make a legal marriage a difficult pursuit for them.
Langly's mouth and epic number of court appearances over
the last decade and a half had made him less than beloved
by the judiciary of the along the eastern seaboard. Even if
they had given a false date of birth for Thea, and she was
certain they had, the communication problem would not be
easy to overcome. Chances were a judge would look at
them and see a young handicapped girl and an older man
with an arrest record a mile long who all but breathed
contempt of court.

They'd be home soon.

And they were. Yves watched Langly surreptitiously stroke
Thea's belly on the surveillance camera.

Thea signed when she walked through the door,
YVES, YOU LEAVE GIGANTOPITHECUS AT HOME?

"I took the liberty of sending Jimmy after Chinese," Yves
answered.  "He should be back soon,"

ANY LUCK? Frohike signed to Thea and asked Langly.

Langly shook his head. WE COULDN'T EVEN GET THE
LICENSE, they signed together.

"Why don't you just break in and make yourselves one?
Surely that option occurred to you," Yves said, relying on
Langly to translate for Thea.

Thea looked at Yves and nodded but Langly glared.

"'cause this is a marriage, not a parking ticket," Langly
snorted.

Pleasantly, Yves said, "I may know someone. But first we
need to have a talk."

Langly pursed his lips as he signed the conversation for
Thea. "About?"

"Your offspring," Yves said.

Thea rolled her eyes then reached for one of  the dozens of
note pads that she'd left around the offices. WHY IS
EVERYONE OBSESSED WITH MY PREGNANCY? she wrote.

BECAUSE, MY DEAR, IT IS YOUR PURPOSE, Yves wrote underneath

"Somewhere a feminist weeps," Frohike commented.

"This is precisely what her makers designed her to
do - find a male with exceptional traits and breed. I have
to say, her idea of *exceptional* is probably not what CGB
Spender had in mind. Gustatorum non disputum est, though."

Thea began to write frantically as soon as Langly finished
signing what Yves had said.

FUCK SPENDER AND FUCK ZEUS. I'VE BEEN MY OWN GIRL FOR A
LONG TIME NOW. I'M NOT THEIR CREATION ANYMORE. THEY DON'T
CONTROL ME. THEY'VE GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS.

Yves cocked her head, unimpressed by the rant.

ONE MORE CRACK ABOUT RINGO AND I'LL BREAK YOUR CUTE LITTLE
NOSE, Thea wrote and again shoved the paper into Yves face.

ARE YOU QUITE FINISHED? Yves wrote back. "Is she quite
finished?" she asked Langly.

Behind her on the monitor Jimmy Bond banged the door
vigorously with his forehead, arms laden with takeout.
"Who wants Chinese?" he called at the top of his lungs.

WELL, AT LEAST THERE'S FOOD, Thea signed.

In the kitchen, takeout boxes blooming like white lotuses
along the counter, Jimmy held a cold pack to his forehead
while the others loaded plates.

"Now," Yves said as they sat to eat, "are you ready to
discuss this?"

Jimmy signed. It was a small irony that he was the best
hearing signer of the group.

SURE, HIT ME WHEN I'M HALF-DRUNK ON FRIED FOOD, Thea
signed.

"What do you know about why you were made?" Yves asked and
Jimmy signed.

TO PROTECT AND SERVE, SAME AS YOU, Thea answered, wiping
the grease off her lips with the back of her arm.

WHAT? Byers asked, almost dropping his fork.

SAME AS HER, Thea signed laconically. HER REAL NAME IS LOIS
RUNCE AND HER FATHER'S SOME BIG SHOT BILLIONAIRE
WHO BOUGHT HER FROM ZEUS GENETICS.

All eyes turned to Yves.

Yves shrugged and toyed with her chop stick. "Enough money
and the right connections can buy anything." She sounded
very bored. "Even the carefully manipulated genes of an
advanced human."

THEY'RE SISTERS, Jimmy signed, beaming. ISN'T THAT COOL?

"Crap," Langly groaned.

"It's a rather simplistic way of putting it," Yves
explained. "I entered this search to uncover my own
origins, in the process I came across quite a few secrets."
She turned to Thea. "Some of them are yours."

LIKE WHAT? Thea frowned, chomping her way through an
eggroll.

"The lab in Costa Rica where you were made was
destroyed by Struckhold's men in a fire. There were only
two survivors - you and your fellow clone."

Thea's jaw clenched and her hand went unconsciously to her
belly. Langly sat very still.

Thea moved her hand from her belly and signed, THAT HAS
NOTHING TO DO WITH OUR CHILDREN.

"On the contrary, it has everything to with them. It also
has everything to do with why you can't stay here," Yves
explained. "You were designed to select the optimum male
available and breed true super-soldiers. Not praetorians,
Thea, but actual indestructible super-soldiers. The fire
was set to destroy you and the others like you."

Thea closed her eyes.

In unison, Langly and Frohike said, "What the fuck?"

After a moment, Thea opened her eyes.  Langly thought she
was going to throw up. YOU'RE SAYING SPENDER WASN'T
SATISFIED? HE WANTED TO BE ABLE TO BREED SUPER-SOLDIERS
OUTSIDE THE LAB IF THERE WAS A POWER STRUGGLE, RIGHT?
Thea signed.

Yves nodded. "The larger group of consortium members
thought your project was dangerous enough to attempt to
destroy all evidence it ever existed, even amongst
themselves."

"These are still my kids, right?" Langly asked, all
thoughts of finishing his food having vanished.

"Yes," Yves said icily, "and they will possess all
your strengths and none of your multitude of weaknesses.
Which is why Spender sought to breed Thea with
a young man named Gibson Praise."

Thea's knee was bouncing convulsively. Langly, Byers, and
Frohike were staring, first at Yves then Thea.

I'LL HAVE AN ABORTION, Thea signed flatly.

Yves arched one brow. "Which part of 'indestructible' did
you find confusing?"

"What the fuck are we supposed to do?" Langly groaned.

"I suggest Thea leave, go into hiding, and attempt to be
the best mother possible."

NO WAY, Langly signed. SHE ISN'T GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT
ME.

"Make no mistake, Langly - the parties interested in
your children are brutal." Yves said "If you go with her,
you'll be endangering Frohike and Byers."

Frohike spoke. "What if Byers and I went with them?"

"That is one possibility I've considered," Yves answered.

SO WE'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO DROP EVERYTHING? SCREW TRUTH AND
JUSTICE, SCREW THE PAPER, LET THE LIARS AND THE CHEATERS
CONTINUE UNHAMPERED BECAUSE MY STUPID ASS IS REPRODUCING?
Thea signed violently.

"It is my opinion that the welfare of your children should
come first." She pinned Langly with a pointed glare. "Or am
I mistaken about that?"

Langly shook his head. "Go on."

"To that end," Yves continued, "I've prepared a place where
you should be able to live in comfort and anonymity.  I am
even prepared to provide you with a modest monthly living
allowance."

Thea stood. DON'T TAKE THIS WRONG, BUT I'M GOING TO GO
VOMIT NOW she signed as she left the room.

"Gosh, you're lucky, Langly," Jimmy said as he watched
Thea's retreating back. "I mean she is gonna make such
a beautiful bride."

Langly gave Jimmy a look he used to give him fairly
frequently back in the days when he lived at the
headquarters.

"I keep trying to convince Yves that we should start a
family." Jimmy gave Yves' thigh a friendly little squeeze.
"Isn't that right, honey?"

Yves lifted his hand from her leg and placed it on his own.
"Jimmy, pl-"

"I mean it, Langly. This super-soldier thing seems kinda
scary now, but think about it. Do you have any idea what
this is gonna save you in doctor bills?"

Langly blinked.

Jimmy continued blithely. "So are you guys wanting to go
with a church or a temple for the wedding? 'Cause I know
Agent Mulder was Jewish, but that kind of thing is counted
through the mother, right? And you've got a certain, don't
take this the wrong way, a certain gentile look to you. if
you wanted to go with a Jewish ceremony, though, I know a
great rabbi, grew up next door to me, and-"

"We're both atheists, Jimmy."

"No problem." Jimmy's grin kept getting wider and wider.
"I know a Unitarian guy who could handle that. Gee, I
love weddings."

Langly gave the other man a dark scowl. "We've sort of had
other things on our minds."

"Of course you have. But you know, I'd be thrilled to help.
More than help. Just consider me your own personal wedding
planner. Now, what-"

"Jimmy?" Yves attempted to divert him from his goal.

"-kind of flowers does she like?"

"Jimmy," Yves reprimanded.

"Flowers make me sneeze until my eyes swell shut." Langly
answered

"Silk," Jimmy nodded. "Easy enough. How about cake?
Something smallish, maybe two-tiered?"

"Thea won't eat cake."

"Does she have a dress picked out?"

"I don't think she wants one."

"Jimmy!" Yves snarled.

"No flowers, no cake, no dress? What kind of wedding is
that?"

Langly rose. "I'm gonna go find T."

A quick search revealed she had taken the group's
VW bus.
 
 
 

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Something was bad wrong with a world where the most obvious
place a guy's pregnant girlfriend could go was the
skatepark. But the bus was in the lot, parallel parked. Mad
and on a tear, Thea was still Thea.

"Thank you, Jesus," Langly muttered as Jimmy pulled the
Ferrarri next to the battered VW. He was out of the car
before Jimmy could kill the engine.

Inside, two pretentiously unkempt teenaged boys slouched
against a wall.

"You spy Hush on the half pipe?" One boy said to the other.

"Them was some torrid fuckin' grinders, no?"

"I mean her tits - it's like, ummm, guess who got a visit
from the mammary fairy?"

"Shit," Langly muttered and set off for pipe at a run. He
suppressed the futile urge to scream her name.

As he drew close, he saw her face, saw her body, recognized
the meditative posture as she drew to her full height then
crouched improbably low in response to the curved concrete.
He watched her rise along with her board in perfect
air-borne continuation of the arc of the structure. She
pivoted in the air, descending gracefully in the same
imaginary bow she had ridden upwards. Only the grating
sound of wheel meeting pavement to testified she was no
longer floating. If she hadn't been pregnant, it would have
taken his breath away.

He reminded himself for the tenth time that night that
there were few things dumber than yelling at a deaf person.

All his ambiguous emotions evaporated in the buzz of the
yellow lights. There were cigarette butts everywhere. The
concrete felt sticky under his shoes. Every thirty seconds
the image of Thea falling and bleeding forced itself behind
his eyes. He craned his neck until he could see the one
person who could help him, a medium set guy his age with a
short black ponytail; Beauchamp, the owner.

"Hey, want somethin'?" he asked as Langly ran up with Jimmy
close behind.

"You gotta get Thea, um, Hush," Langly pointed. "You gotta
get Hush outta there."

"How come?"

"She's pregnant"

"No shit? Man, you know what insurance on the this dump
costs me already?" Beauchamp stepped into his plywood
office and grabbed a bullhorn. "Everybody outta the pipe,"
he repeated through the horn four times. The skaters
started hopping out one at a time. Eventually, Thea rode
alone, too oblivious to realize. Beauchamp frowned picked
up a handful of gravel.

"What're you gonna do?"

"Get her attention."

"What if she falls?"

"It never made her fall before." He hit her squarely
between the shoulders with a piece of gravel.

She failed to notice. It took three hits to the back before
she finally looked up.

DAMN, she signed to herself.

He would not yell. He would not yell. Langly promised
himself he would not yell at her. She circled the bottom of
the pipe twice before riding up to face him.

I NEEDED TO GO FOR A RIDE, she signed. I TOOK  THE VAN. I
HOPE NOBODY MINDS.

THEA, Langly signed very deliberately, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU
THINK YOU'RE DOING?

Thea rattled her skateboard then tucked it under her arm.
KNITTING, she signed.

YOU COULD GET HURT. AND SO COULD. . .? he signed poorly,
gesturing at her belly.

BABIES? she signed. I COULD DRINK DRANO AND SMOKE CRACK AND
IT WOULDN'T MATTER TO THEM.

YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT YVES SAID? He didn't know if it was a
statement or a question even as he signed it.

IT MAKES SENSE, RINGO. PERFECT FUCKING SENSE, Thea signed
flatly.

I WOULDN'T BELIEVE HER IF SHE SAID MY ASS WAS ON FIRE, he
signed irritably.

YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO. IF YOUR ASS WAS ON FIRE YOU'D KNOW,
she signed.

ARE YOU READY TO COME HOME NOW? WE CAN TALK WHEN WE GET
BACK OR WHERE EVER YOU WANT. JUST COME HOME, he signed.

SOMEONE TAILED ME ON THE WAY, JIMMY. She waved at the man
standing behind Langly. WOULD YOU MIND IF RINGO AND I TOOK
YOUR CAR? YOU COULD DRIVE THE BUS BACK. HUMOR THE POOR
STUPID PREGNANT GIRL? She slipped off her matte black
helmet. AND PUT THIS ON.

SURE, he signed looking sublimely ridiculous in her helmet.
YOU'LL LET LANGLY DRIVE, RIGHT? AND YOU COME STRAIGHT HOME?

I WILL ABSOLUTELY LET LANGLY DRIVE, BUT I THOUGHT MAYBE WE
NEEDED TO TALK, FOR A WHILE BEFORE WE WENT HOME, YOU KNOW,
ALONE.

WELL, OKAY. JUST BE CAREFUL.

As soon as Jimmy was out of sight, Langly tugged at her
sleeve. SOMEBODY REALLY FOLLOW YOU?

Thea scratched  behind her ear. I JUST WANTED TO DRIVE THE
FERRARI.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

For Thea, driving was the motorized equivalent of
skating - she knew it and understood it in the marrow of
her bones and the deep animal recesses of her brain. It
would have been an understatement to say she excelled at
either. The visceral nature of the act soothed her.
If there weren't other things on his mind, Langly would
have found it fascinating. But that night, he couldn't take
any vicarious pride in her natural ability. As it was, all
he felt was grateful that every click of the odometer saw
her a little less twitchy. He was so pleased to see the
tension drift away from her body that he made no objection
as they neared the Capitol.

It wasn't a place he went if he could avoid it, and for a
crazy minute, he wondered if some Mulder-Scully homing
beacon was pulling her to the reflecting pool. But she went
right past it and instead, parked them near to the tidal
pool that swirled off the river and into West Potomac Park.

Thea climbed out of the car and began walking.  Langly
followed, although she hardly acknowledged his presence.
She stood and stared at the Japanese cherry trees planted
around the pool's rim. She turned and cast her eyes in the
direction of the Holocaust Museum. Then she turned back to
the trees.

THEY'RE LATE, she signed, waving at the trees. THEY
SHOULDN'T HAVE BLOSSOMS THIS LATE IN THE YEAR.

He positioned himself in front of her. IT WAS A LONG
WINTER.

She pulled away and began striding ahead of him.

He followed all the way to the Jefferson Memorial, feeling
stupid.

I'M SORRY, Thea signed.

YOU OUGHT TO BE. I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK YOU WERE, he
signed, leaning against a marble column.

NO, I MEAN ABOUT EVERYTHING. I BET YOU'RE SORRY YOU EVER
SAW MY FACE, she signed, staring intensely at him.

Langly recognized a tension in her that reminded him of
Mulder when whatever was happening in his head was
so big it obscured his vision of the world around him. It
was usually a precursor to something really stupid.

Langly folded his arms across his chest and shook his head
'no.'

I'M SORRY ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US THEN, she signed. I'M SORRY
I GOT YOU MIXED UP IN THIS SHIT. SORRY. SORRY. She leaned
forward and kissed him softly, more of a brushing of
lips and a breathing of each other's breath than a real
kiss, and pressed Jimmy's keys into his hand.

He shook his head and dropped the keys. She was already
walking away.

He wanted to tell her something, something to make her stop
and never try to leave again but he didn't know what it
would take.  He had no choice but to grab her by the wrist,
but he couldn't sign a single word holding onto her arm.
Fuck. fuck. fuck.

He dragged her toward base of the Jefferson Statue and
pinned her there, his knees on either side of her, so
there was still no way she could get away without hurting
him and they both knew it.

She was gritting her teeth. L.A.N.G.L.Y. she spelled
one-handed.

FORGET ABOUT BABIES AND SUPER SOLDIERS AND EVERY BAD
FUCKING THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF THE
WORLD BEING YOUR FAULT FOR A SECOND, OKAY? I WANT YOU WITH
ME. FORGET ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE. THAT'S WHAT I WANT.

She raised her eyebrow. DON'T BE STUPID, LANGLY. YOU'LL
FIND SOMEBODY ELSE. SOMEBODY GIRLY AND APPROPRIATE.
SOMEBODY NORMAL. SOMEBODY BETTER.

BETTER? He squinted. YOU'RE JOKING, RIGHT?

She shook her head.

It took him a few seconds to decide not to cloud the issue
by pointing out that appropriate, normal, girly chicks - or
chicks of any kind -  had never exactly beaten a path to
his door.

Thea was looking intently over his shoulder. WE HOLD THESE
TRUTHS TO BE SELF EVIDENT? She signed. THEN WHY THE FUCK
WOULD ANYONE FEEL COMPELLED TO SAY IT, MUCH LESS CARVE IT
IN STONE?

Langly felt a sudden, intense urge to grab the person most
important to him in the world and shake vigorously. He
wanted to ask - no demand - to know how she could be
so...so...

. . .it was pissing him off so much he couldn't even find
the word.

She nodded at the wall again, a brief ugly laugh erupting
from her mouth. ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR - WHAT A LOAD OF
CRAP - SPENDER DIDN'T ENDOW ME WITH JACK SHIT. I'M NOTHING
BUT A SCIENCE EXPERIMENT. HOW DUMB AM I THAT I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT?

YOU ARE A PERSON, he signed, frustration threatening to
overwhelm him.

I'M A THREAT TO THE WORLD, A DANGER, I AM-

His hands shot out in interruption. YOU ARE A PERSON, he
repeated.

I WAS DESIGNED WITH THE SOLE PURPOSE OF BREEDING
SUPER-SOLDIERS.

SO WHAT? I AM THE FIRST MEMBER OF MY FAMILY IN THE
FUCKING HISTORY OF MANKIND NOT TO RAISE COWS. SO WHAT?

SO THIS. She pulled her lower lip to her chin, revealing a
row of tiny black letters and numbers tattooed on the shiny
epithelial tissue deep inside the fold where lip met mouth.
MY DESIGNATION, she signed when she let go.

He didn't know what to say. She let him see her cunt before
she let him see her lab number. What did it mean? It meant
something, right? He couldn't tell.

He leaned closer, smelling the garlic and ginger on her
breath. He pressed two fingers to open her lip, drew even
closer, scrutinizing the string of characters. He wasn't
sure why but he tried to commit them to memory.

PC524P113T62989-8-40

WHAT DO THEY SIGNIFY? He didn't move his legs but leaned
away just enough to allow her room to sign.

MY X CHROMOSOME IS FROM PURITY CONTROL SUBJECT 524,
FROHIKE'S 'DELECTABLE AGENT SCULLY'. THE SECOND X IS
FROM FOX MULDER, PRAETORIAN 113. THEN THE REST IS ME - T
FOR 'PROJECT THERMOMETER,' EXPERIMENTAL LOT 62989 FOR MY
START DATE JUNE 29 1989 - SUBJECT 8 OUT OF 40 UNITS.

His breath was quickening and his head was swimming. He
lifted his chin defiantly. I DON'T CARE.

BUT YOU ASKED ANYWAY, she signed small.

He felt her little belly pressing against him and looked
Down. Her eyes followed.

If Richard Langly had been born with the gift of physical
eloquence he would have dropped to his knees and kissed her
abdomen, wrapped his arms around his unborn children, but
he had not so he did not. He was awkward. It was also
arguable that except for insults and technical language he
was not verbally nimble either. He certainly wasn't Fox
Mulder.

THEY AREN'T AN EXPERIMENT, he signed, his eyes on the
Bulge at her waist. SOME ASSHOLE IN A LAB DIDN'T DO THAT.
WE DID. YOU AND ME. IN MY BED. REMEMBER?

I REMEMBER YOU WISHING YOU USED A CONDOM, she signed
without meeting his eyes.

I DIDN'T PLAN ON KIDS. SO WHAT? I DIDN'T PLAN ON FALLING
IN LOVE, EITHER.

AND THAT'S REALLY WORKED OUT FOR YOU, HASN'T IT? she signed
sarcastically.

I ASKED YOU TO MARRY ME BECAUSE I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, he
signed, realizing it wasn't a lie, not really. WHATEVER
HAPPENS, WE'LL DEAL, OKAY? TOGETHER. BECAUSE IT'S WHAT WE
WANT AND SCREW EVERYTHING ELSE. IT'S ONLY SOME STUPID
TRAGIC THING IF WE LET IT BE.

When he stopped signing, he rested his hands on her rib
cage.

She didn't agree or nod or sign OKAY. Instead, she offered
assent by bending her neck enough to lay her forehead on
his shoulder. She licked her lips, drawing a strand of his
long blond hair into her mouth.

He reached his arms around her. "It's okay, Baby, it's
gonna be okay," he whispered, wishing she could hear him.

She lifted her head to look him in the eye, forehead to
forehead. He couldn't help but smile when she smiled. They
rubbed noses for a second, sharp and beaklike to broad and
rounded, smearing his glasses in the process.

H.O.M.E. He spelled into her hand.

She nodded just enough for him to feel. She leaned back
stretching against the foot of Jefferson, took off Langly's
glasses and began wiping them on the bottom of her t-shirt.

Intent as she was at cleaning the lenses, she inadvertently
flashed her tits at a group of camera-carrying tourists on
the steps of the Monument.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

Jimmy Bond had a marked tendency to fixate. He was so
focused on the idea of a wedding between two people he was
very fond of that, in the end, Langly and Thea decided it
was easier, with in reason, to just let him have his way.
No need to waste all that natural enthusiasm.

Everyone but Langly agreed that his designated 'funeral
suit' simply would not do. So Jimmy took him shopping. It
was something very much like Hell.

Jimmy knew entirely too much about material and drape and
cut for Langly's liking. Langly would have been hard
pressed to choose between a suit fitting and a full-body
cavity search. At least the cops wore gloves.

In the end, though, he had a suit. A suit that he never
would have been able to afford and certainly one he never
would have chosen. Oh Lord, he thought during fitting
number three, he was letting Jimmy Bond pick out his
clothes. This whole wedding thing was really getting out of
control.

Another bad sign was that Byers gave it his approval.
"Japanese design, double breasted, good fit." He qualified
his endorsement when he saw Langly's dismay at his initial
assessment "Slightly, um, loud, though. The lapels are
wide," he added generously.

Yves called it aubergine.

Jimmy called it purple.

Frohike called it Robitussin and accused them of shopping
Cab Calloway's estate sale.

Thea didn't notice. She had removed the casing on Byers's
monitor and was trying to fix it without getting fried.

Langly didn't think twice about her doing stuff like that
normally but, shit, pregnant? He nudged Frohike. Frohike
nudged Byers.

Langly was about go read her 'the safety boy riot act' as
Thea now called it, when Yves tapped her gently with a
pencil.

YOUR TURN, DEAR, she wrote on the table with her finger.

Thea looked up and addressed the men in the room, signing
WE, WHO ARE ABOUT DIE, SALUTE YOU!

Frohike looked from Langly to Thea and back again. "You two
would bitch if you were hung with a new rope."

"We aren't shoppers, okay? Is that crime? Or does everyone
have to be a good little consumer around here all of a
sudden? "

"You could show a little gratitude, asshole."

Langly just scowled. Jimmy threw his arm around him.
"Langly knows I know he appreciates. . ." he trailed off, a
confused look on his face. "Well, I know Langly knows..."
he was hoisted by his own mental petard again. "Um, me and
my little buddy are cool, right?"

Langly winced.

"Gilligan, kiss Mary Ann goodbye. We do have work to do."
Frohike groused.

WHAT DID HE SAY? Thea signed.

YOU REALLY DON'T WANT TO KNOW, Langly signed back, and
pecked her cheek.

***

Thea's forced march in search of a wedding dress went much
differently.

Yves was no Jimmy Bond. After the twelfth dress was deemed
utterly unacceptable by both women, they sensibly went out
for burgers, then they had their legs waxed.

Rather than return empty-handed, Thea finally selected a
pair of black leather pants slung low enough to completely
bypass her expanding belly. While not traditional, Yves
couldn't argue that they were unflattering, nor could she
deny their classic appeal. In the end, she simply shrugged
and paid the clerk.

None of Thea's housemates asked to see the dress. They
trusted Yves.

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~

The next afternoon, they were married.

Thea spent the morning, after much cajoling, with Yves at
the Georgetown Aveda salon. Langly spent a lot of quality
time with his inhaler.

For the record, he loved the leather pants. He had no idea
she could look like that. It was one thing to marry the
girl you loved, but it was something else to realize at the
altar she had the best pair of blowjob lips you'd ever seen
in your life. Painted red. A sliver of Thea's belly was
visible below the hem of her white cotton t-shirt. He never
knew pregnant could be so sexy. She didn't look like T; she
looked like a chick. A really hot chick. He was profoundly
grateful his pants were loose.

This marriage thing, he reflected, was definitely a stroke
of genius.

When Frohike saw her, he leaned in and whispered,
"Nothing's says 'I do' like a pregnant broad in leather,"
which made Langly wish he had asked Byers to be his best
man.

"Shut up," he hissed.

"I hear black leather is the new white taffeta," Frohike
whispered back.

"Shut up," Langly repeated.

Thea strode up to him, smiling, and kissed his hand.

LANGLY, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, she signed, oblivious to the
Justice of the Peace. DO I LOOK OKAY? I CAN GO WASH THIS
SHIT OFF IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT.

NO, he signed back, small. IT LOOKS GOOD. YOU LOOK GOOD.

ARE YOU READY? The Justice of the Peace, whom they'd had to
go all the way to Baltimore to find, signed.

They took the standard vows - love, honor, cherish,
sickness, health, richer, poorer, forsaking all others,
'til death do us part. As two people who spent their time
devoted to ideals largely considered passe, they
scrutinized the words more carefully than most, but gave
the standard replies.

I DO. I DO.

Langly placed the plain white gold ring with a single clear
diamond on her finger. Two months pay my ass, Thea thought.
That thing had taken all his savings and she knew it. How
many times had Ringo lectured her about the economics of
the jewel trade? The artificial inflation of market value
through P.R.? Tying diamond jewelry to notions of fidelity
and love? War after war financed by tiny paper packets of
the gem? And now he had the nerve to put one on her finger?

But he was smiling. So she guessed it was okay.

Thea timed the whole event at twelve minutes. It seemed to
her like an awful lot of time, money, and energy had gone
into that twelve minutes. Though, honestly, if the ceremony
had gone on much longer, she would have fallen asleep and
Langly probably would have had some kind of twitchy fit.

I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBAND AND WIFE. YOU MAY KISS THE
BRIDE, the JP signed.

Langly hesitated. Everyone was watching. There were exactly
12 guests, if you counted Kimmy, who invited himself. Even
that was too much of an audience for Langly. Thea barely
noticed. She leaned in, placed two fingers delicately
behind either of his ears pulling him forward, and
proceeded to suck face. It was the best part, as far as she
was concerned.

Jimmy cried. If Byers and Frohike teared up slightly, they
both sniffed it back before too many people noticed.

Yves, who had been elected matron-of-honor by default,
thought for a disturbing moment she recognized exactly what
Thea saw in Langly. Shuddering, she forced herself to think
of Jimmy stepping out of the shower with only a towel
around his waist.

That felt much better.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~
 
 

The reception was held in a small but well-appointed hall.
The wild revelry consisted mostly of Yves and a dozen hackers
swilling beer and Dr. Pepper and talking shop. Byers drank and
drank and smiled pleasantly at everyone. He was well on his way
to being stinking drunk. Jimmy had disappeared shortly after
the bar opened. The bride was sitting on the groom's lap. The
two of them appeared to be enthralled by something they were
doing on a laptop in the far corner of the room.

Frohike rolled his eyes. He was going over the few
photographs he had managed to get them to stand still for.
Thea and Langly, side by side, heads together, arms around
each other's waists.  A matched set, like a pair of salt
and pepper shakers.

He was surprised to see two extra images in the camera's
memory.  They were clearly Mr. and Mrs. Langly's handiwork,
but he'd be damned if he could figure out when they'd taken
them.  To the best of his knowledge, the camera had never
left his pocket.  That sticky fingered little wench, he
thought without rancor. She probably thought it was funny.

Langly had had much better luck getting Thea to smile.  She
looked like Scully with her high beams on. Langly himself
looked like a completely different person in the picture
Thea had taken. Same nose, same hair, same chin. It was
Langly, all right, but not him at all.  There was no other
way to describe it.

Jimmy burst in, breathing hard. He all but ran to where the
bride and groom were hunkered over a monitor.

IT'S READY, he signed, tapping Langly's shoulder with what
looked like a set of room keys.

"Huh?" Langly said.  Thea signed a question mark to her
forehead.

"It's our last gift, a surprise from me and Yves, the
bridal suite. You know, a romantic weekend," he frowned a
little. "Well, it's not really the weekend but-"

"This is...really, you shouldn't have," Langly said
slowly. Both he and Thea had looks of decided apprehension
on their faces.

"I told you it was a bad idea," Yves yelled across the
room.

"Nawww, honey," Jimmy yelled back. "He's just being
polite."

"That'll be the day," Frohike muttered, scurrying over in
case his intervention was needed.

YOU'VE SPENT TOO MUCH MONEY ALREADY, Thea signed.

HEY, YOU GUYS ARE FAMILY. He leaned down and enveloped them
both in an exuberant hug.

Langly made a face that suggested his ribs were cracking.

"Thank him and go to your room," Frohike growled thumping
Langly on the back of the skull.

"Sure, Dad," Langly answered.

He didn't sound completely sarcastic.

~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:
 

They held hands all the way up to their room.

The minute the door was opened, Thea walked through,
staring. Well, Langly thought, that answered the thresh
hold question. It was okay; he knew his limitations. The
last thing he needed on his wedding night was a hernia.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? Thea signed, agape.

Jimmy The-Wedding-Fairy-With-Testosterone-Overload Bond had
not only gotten them The Bridal Suite, he had filled the
place with candles. Lit candles. Hundreds of lit candles.

Langly thought it might have been cool, sort of, if they
had been a couple of girls.

YOU WOULDN'T THINK A PLACE LIKE THIS WOULD RUN OUT OF LIGHT
BULBS, she signed.

Langly smirked. IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE ROMANTIC.

Thea frowned. Romantic was one of those words, he knew, in
her opinion, bordered on meaninglessness.

Still, something about the light must have been working for
her from the way she looked at him.  She just shrugged and
pulled her shirt up over her head.

What happened next was difficult to reconstruct.
Essentially, Langly backed up to get a better view,
tripped, broke a mirror, knocked over some thirty-odd
candles, got wax all over the carpet, and started a small
fire, which Thea, half-naked, smothered with the bedspread
in a matter of seconds.

THERE WENT JIMMY'S SECURITY DEPOSIT, she signed, stomping
the spot where the fire had been highest one more time to
be certain.

Langly had his right arm thrown over his face. FUCK, I'M
SORRY, he signed at last, but his new bride was so busy
racing around the suite blowing out all Jimmy's handy work,
she didn't notice.

He followed her. JIMMY MEANT WELL, he signed when he had
her attention.

DOESN'T HE ALWAYS?  DO PEOPLE REALLY DO THIS KIND OF SHIT?
IT'S IMPRACTICAL. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ELECTRIC LIGHT?  I NEED
TO SEE WHAT I'M DOING, she signed as she blew out the fifty
or so candles on the dresser.

Langly shrugged.

MAYBE YVES AND JIMMY DO THIS KIND OF THING, BUT I REFUSE,
she signed. THAT REMINDS ME. YVES GAVE ME SOME FELLATIO
POINTERS.   WANT TO RUN A TRIAL AND YOU CAN GIVE ME AN
HONEST EVALUATION?

Langly swallowed hard. The idea of Thea getting blow job
advice from Yves made him feel dizzy.

She moved toward him.

He backed up. T, I'M GOING TO HAVE A TOUGH TIME AS IT IS.

COME ON, RINGO, IT'S NOT LIKE WE HAVEN'T DONE THIS BEFORE.
She smiled broadly.

He couldn't help but smile back as he signed, BUT WE
WEREN'T MARRIED. AND YOUR LIPS LOOK REALLY...

REALLY WHAT? She frowned.

LUSCIOUS. THAT'S THE WORD - YOU HAVE LUSCIOUS LIPS. AND
YOUR PANTS ARE HOT.  He was breathing heavily and he kept
nodding to himself as he signed. FUCK, REALLY HOT. AND I'M
WHAT YOU MIGHT CALL OVER-STIMULATED RIGHT NOW.

Thea raised a skeptical brow. Then she advanced on him
until he fell backwards onto the bed. Her next move was to
pounce, straddling him.

Prior being taken to bed by Thea Fidelis, sex had been
something Ringo Langly did to women. Or to put it more
accurately, if he was drunk enough to make some kind of
pass and exceptionally lucky, sex was something some
undiscerning female LET him do to her or, a couple of
incredibly embarrassing times, on her.  Now with Thea, all
he had to do was show up. And it was very, very good.

The only problem was, in his heart, he had some rather
unforgiving ideas about what it meant to be 'a man' and
what 'a man' ought to be able to do on his wedding night.
Premature ejaculation wasn't one of them. Despite his high
goals, it seemed like a real possibility he might come
before she got his pants off.

He closed his eyes and felt her hands sifting through his
hair. He felt the heat of her crotch through leather and
gabardine. Fellatio was completely out of the question.

He was already dead.  Or at least that was what he told
himself.

Thea slipped off his tie, planted her lips on his Adam's
apple.

Ringo made a distinctly unmanly high-pitched whimper in the
back of his throat.

Thea unbuttoned the throat of his shirt and dragged her
painted lips over the newly exposed skin. It took all his
self control not to shake with pleasure. She moved to the
next pearly button, kissed the smooth white skin as she
proceeded to turn back the cream colored fabric.  His hips
bucked reflexively against her.  He fought to lay still as
the third kiss came. Only his elbows jerked as her mouth
made contact with the few curly reddish hairs on his pale
chest.   He wished he knew how many buttons his shirt had.
Seven? Twelve? Fuck, her kisses just went on and on.  Nine.
The answer was nine. His chest was shining wet, his shirt
was hanging open and both of them were breathing hard. She
casually undid the cufflinks that had nearly defeated
Langly and Frohike's combined intellectual powers then she
brought his wrist to her mouth like a chick in a vampire
movie and sucked. She placed that hand on her upward
pointing tit and moved on to the other cufflink.

Lather, rinse repeat. Or something like that.

He was totally incoherent.

She bit her red lips and moved to unbutton his pants with
exquisite concentration.  Like a frightened rabbit he
scrambled out of reach.

IF YOU TOUCH ME RIGHT NOW I WILL COME, he signed wildly.

Thea's brow furrowed. THAT'S HYPERBOLE, RIGHT? she signed.

NO, he signed, IT'S A FACT.

OKAY, TELL ME WHAT TO DO, she signed kneeling on the foot of
the king sized bed.

There was a certain irony in the situation. A beautiful
woman, topless no less, offering to do whatever he asked,
and he wanted her to spend at least the next half hour not
touching him. With her shirt on.

He closed his eyes and signed quickly COULD WE DO
SOMETHING ELSE FOR A WHILE?

WHATEVER YOU WANT, LANGLY, she signed earnestly.

T, he signed DON'T CALL ME THAT. WE'RE MARRIED.

Thea looked confused WHAT DID I CALL YOU?

LANGLY. I MEAN YOU'RE THEA LANGLY NOW, AREN'T YOU? YOU
DON'T HAVE TO CHANGE YOUR NAME IF YOU DON'T WANT TO. I
JUST, YOU KNOW, MY NAME IS RICHARD, IT'S WEIRD FOR YOUR
WIFE TO CALL YOU BY YOUR LAST NAME. He frowned at her.

SORRY. She fidgeted.

IT'S OKAY, I'M NOT MAD OR ANYTHING, IT'S JUST WEIRD He
signed slower.

RICHARD. DOES ANYONE ACTUALLY CALL YOU THAT? she asked.

MY MOM DID. BEFORE SHE DIED. WELL, SHE CALLED ME RITCHIE,
he signed. WOULD YOU MIND PUTTING ON YOUR SHIRT? YOUR TITS
AREN'T HELPING ME RELAX.

SURE, RITCHIE, she signed and went to look for her t-
shirt.

She came back with her pants off and her shirt on. He still
found her attractive but, in a rumpled t-shirt and panties,
she was a lot less overwhelming. At least as long as he
didn't look at her legs. She sat back on the edge of the
bed and he saw the glint of metal on the bottom of her
naked foot.

WHAT'S THAT? He pointed.

She picked a coin off her sole YVES MADE ME DO THIS STRANGE
THING. SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW, SOMETHING BORROWED,
SOMETHING BLUE, SILVER SIX PENCE IN YOUR  SHOE. BEHOLD THE
SILVER SIX PENCE. She tossed it to him.

That's when he realized she was wearing a pair of blue
panties he had never seen before.

IT'S TRADITIONAL, he signed, BUT I NEVER HEARD THE PART
ABOUT THE COIN BEFORE.

Thea was looking at him peculiarly MY NAME IS THEA LANGLY
NOW?

IF YOU WANT IT TO BE. WE'LL BE A FAMILY  PRETTY SOON. IT
WOULD BE EASIER IF WE HAD THE SAME NAME. BUT NOBODY'S GOING
TO MAKE YOU.

She stretched out along the foot of the bed holding her
stomach, staring up at him for several seconds before she
signed  HOW ABOUT RICHARD? LET'S ALL BE RICHARD.

It took him a moment to realize she was joking.

He made what he knew Thea called the not-amused-face and
stretched out his arms.

Thea rolled onto her side ENTERTAIN ME, RITCHIE.

WHAT DO YOU WANT? A PUPPET SHOW? he signed back sarcastic.

TELL ME A STORY. ABOUT NEBRASKA, she signed.

NEBRASKA BLOWS GOATS. He was beaming now; his loathing
for his boyhood home was a favorite topic.

IS THAT A TEAM SPORT OR DO THEY DO IT INDIVIDUALLY? She
signed raising her eye brow.

BEFORE I WENT TO COLLEGE I HADN'T BEEN OUT OF THE STATE. He
thought about telling her about his first day of class at
MIT, or the great witch hunt that resulted in his expulsion,
but she'd heard both those so many times she could probably
tell them herself.

DO YOU EVER MISS IT? she signed. THIS IS THE LONGEST I'VE
EVER BEEN ANYWHERE. SPENDER MOVED ME ALL THE TIME.

She had never talked about her life before. When she had come
to stay with the guys they would occasionally tell stories
about things that had happened to them, but she had never
joined in.

Langly suddenly realized he knew nothing about her, in the
way he imagined most men knew about their wives. Sure he
knew she had his back, no matter what, he knew she loved
him, he knew she'd do what it seemed to her needed doing
but...had she ever had a pet? A friend other than Gibson
Praise? It didn't seem likely.

YOU TELL ME SOMETHING.

OKAY, WHAT? she cocked her head.

ANYTHING. WHAT WAS IT LIKE IN THE TANK? WHAT DID YOU THINK
ABOUT? he signed lazily.

THE SAME AS YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IN YOUR MOTHER'S UTERUS, MOST
LIKELY.  STUFF-THOUGHTS NOT, YOU KNOW, SELF-THOUGHTS. LIKE
'ISN'T IT FASCINATING HOW PI JUST GOES ON AND ON FOREVER AND
IT'S NEVER THE SAME?'

YOU THOUGHT ABOUT MATH?

She nodded.

T, NOBODY THINKS ABOUT MATH IN THEIR MOTHER'S UTERUS. YOU
DON'T KNOW ABOUT IT, FOR ONE THING. YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT
ANYTHING.

She looked confused. THERE ISN'T SOME PHYSICAL
SYSTEM FOR TRANSFERRING INFORMATION FROM MOTHER TO EMBRYO?

NO, he signed. JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE IN YOUR BODY DOESN'T
MEAN THEY KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW. HUMANS ARE BORN WITH NOTHING
BUT INSTINCT.

Puzzlement clouded her expression. HOW DID YOU LEARN TO
READ? AND DO MATH?

FROM TV, he signed as if it were the most obvious thing in
the world. JUST IMAGINE WHERE I'D BE IF WE HAD MORE THAN
TWO CHANNELS WHEN I WAS A KID.

Her brows knit. SO WHEN THE BABIES ARE BORN THEY WON'T
KNOW ANYTHING?

He shook his head.

SO EVERYBODY STARTS WITH NOTHING? FROHIKE? BYERS? THEY
STARTED OUT NOT KNOWING ANYTHING?

EVERYBODY BUT YOU, he signed suddenly understanding how she
could read and write four languages but often couldn't
figure out what 'appropriate' meant in any given
situation.

TELL ME SOMETHING FUNNY, he signed, hoping for a
distraction from the weirdness.

After a moment, she signed, ONE TIME I PISSED MY PANTS IN A
FAMOUS TEMPLE.

He wracked his brain trying to think of a famous temple.
WHAT FAMOUS TEMPLE? he finally asked.

OUR LADY, she signed.

WHERE'S THAT?

PARIS. YOU KNOW, IT'S IN THAT VICTOR HUGO BOOK.

NOTRE DAME CATHEDRAL? YOU PISSED YOUR PANTS IN NOTRE DAME
CATHEDRAL?

ISN'T THAT WHAT I JUST SAID?

TELL THE STORY, SHAHERAZADE, he rolled his eyes.

THEY SPLIT RHEA AND ME UP- she began.

WHO? he interrupted.

MY SISTER. YOU KNOW, THE OTHER ONE JUST LIKE ME? WE WOULD
BE LESS CONSPICUOUS APART. ANYWAY, THIS COURIER WAS
SUPPOSED TO HAND ME OFF TO SOMEONE ELSE AT THE TEMPLE-

CHURCH, he corrected.

WHATEVER. BUT THE NEXT MAN WAS LATE. A RAILROAD STRIKE
SLOWED HIM DOWN I THINK, AND ANYWAY, THE GUY WHO HAD ME WAS
A TRUE ASSHOLE, COULDN'T SIGN, WOULDN'T LEARN EVEN BASIC
SHIT, WOULDN'T WRITE WITH ME OR ANYTHING, JUST PUT FOOD IN
FRONT OF ME AND THREW ME IN THE GENERAL DIRECTION OF A
TOILET A COUPLE OF TIMES A DAY. SO THERE WE WERE, WAITING
AND WAITING AND THE OTHER GUY WAS LATE AND I PISSED MY
PANTS. HE WAS SO EMBARRASSED. IT WAS FUNNY, she signed,
snorting.

It didn't sound that funny to Ringo. HOW OLD WERE YOU? he
signed.

SIX OR SEVEN. SOMETHING LIKE THAT. She scratched the small
of her back. WHERE WERE THEY TAKING YOU?  He asked.

She spelled R.O.U.M.A.N.I.A.

ANOTHER COMPOUND?

NO, AN ORPHANAGE.

Richard Langly suddenly felt very cold.

IT WASN'T BAD, she assured him.  MOSTLY EVERYONE IGNORED
ME. THERE WERE NO TESTS OR ANYTHING. FOOD WAS JUST A LITTLE
TIGHT.

That did not make him feel better. HOW LONG WERE YOU THERE?

SEVEN MONTHS, she signed. THEY WANTED TO MAKE SURE THE
PEOPLE WHO BURNED THE LAB DIDN'T FIND ME. I JUST DIDN'T
KNOW WHY I WAS IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO KILL.

SO HE MOVED YOU AROUND, LIKE A SHELL GAME?

OR THREE CARD MONTE? REMEMBER ATLANTIC CITY?  She grinned.

He would never forget.  It had been one of her first field
trips and she'd stolen 50 bucks from a young sidewalk con
artist's wallet while he bilked the gullible before Byers
had had a chance to intervene.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO R.H.E.A.? he asked.

She shook her head. NEVER SAW HER AGAIN.

YOU EVER MISS HER?

NOT ANYMORE.

CAN I HOLD YOU? It seemed like an appropriate request.

IT'S OKAY TO TOUCH YOU NOW?

He nodded. She slid up to lie beside him. He held her to
him face to face.

I'M OKAY. YOU LOOK GOOD IN YOUR SUIT, she signed small
between them.

YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY, NOT JUST OKAY, he signed back.

I AM HAPPY, she signed. SINCE I'VE BEEN WITH YOU GUYS, I'VE
BEEN HAPPY. IT'S A GOOD LIFE. HOW COULD I WANT MORE THAN
WHAT I HAVE HERE?

If he was her, he would want a lot more than Ringo Langly's
sorry ass, but he guessed for someone who characterized a
half a year in a Rumanian orphanage as 'not bad,' life at
LGM headquarters was dangerously close to utopia. It seemed
to him nothing but dumb luck that he had her.

He wasn't sure how to express what he felt. He hadn't read
a love poem