From: "EPurSeMouve" Date: Thu, 26 Oct 2000 22:35:54 -0800 Subject: NEW: Believe It Or Not (1/3) - A Bobbie Collins Exclusive Source: xff TITLE: Believe It Or Not AUTHOR: EPurSeMouve [epursemouve@goplay.com] CATEGORY: SXRHA RATING: PG-13 for language. SPOILERS: This is a sequel to "Damn Temptin'," which in turn was a sequel to "Inquiring Minds," which in turn was a post-ep for "Requiem." You'll want to read those stories first, and ignore the fact that the premiere will make this an alternate universe. If it's been a while since you read the first two stories, check out the Bobbie Collins experience at http://www.goplay.com/epursemouve/bobbie.html DISCLAIMER: I'm in the middle of a legal dispute regarding whether or not Bobbie, Patsy and Momma, among others, are mine - Bobbie doesn't seem to agree, and her attorneys at Wolfman and Hart can be pretty scary. However, Mulder, Scully, and other series regulars definitely aren't mine, and pop culture abounds. DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, Ephemeral, natch. Do not archive at Xemplary. Any other places, please let me know. SUMMARY: The long week of Bobbie Collins. Believe It Or Not By EPurSeMouve epursemouve@goplay.com MONDAY Oh, yeeah... Ocean breezes, a clear blue sky, and water that just can't settle on what shade of blue to turn. This lounger makes me feel lighter'n air, and I must be lighter'n air, 'cause I'm fitting into that teeny-weeny bikini I wore the hot Florida summer I spent waitressing and sunbathing. But there's some wacky drum-beating in the distance, and strange birds making strange - but pretty - noises, and this place has got everything Florida was missing. With the combo of the sweet ocean breeze and the warm sun, soon I'm closing my eyes - just for a minute or two, swear to God. My moment of contentment, though, is suddenly disrupted by a cool Latin voice: "You want something from the bar, miss?" Ah, the cabana boy. *Now* I'm content. "Maybe in a mo', Paolo. But could ya rub some sunscreen on my back first?" Gawd, are those pecs of his glistening? And his hands are so strong... Pushing back and forth, back and forth... "Not so hard, Paolo," I murmur, but he don't seem to listen, just keeps pounding away... My eyes snap open, and I twist around in my firmly-locked-'n-upright seat, poking my face where the armrest goes. "Damn it, lady, could you keep your kid's feet off the back of my seat?" I snap. She just shrugs and turns back to her magazine. The airplane's cold and I'm thirsty and dammit, don't you just hate dream sequences sometimes? Gawd knows I do. At least, I hate waking up from 'em. But I burrow a bit more into the weird-smelling blanket I got wrapped in plastic, hoping Paolo can whip up a couple of mai-tais real quick... "Attention passengers. We are just now beginning our descent into Dulles Airport... The temperature in Washington, D.C. is 86 degrees..." Well, never mind that now. Almost home. ------------ I 'member the first real business trips I went on, back when I was with the Weekly World News, and the kinds of welcome-backs I used to get. They'd be right there at the runway, Patsy jumping up and down trying to see me while Momma waved frantically at everyone, trying to make sure I wouldn't do the impossible and overlook them. Oh, running towards them, greeted by a big hug from Patsy and and a kiss on the cheek from Momma... No feeling is quite as perfect. They'd drive me back home, Patsy jabbering away about what she'd just learned in school and Momma leaning over the gear shift at stop signs to brush my hair back from my face, and I'd doze off, so happy to be back home. But since we moved to DC six weeks ago, I've been flying twice as much, and no homecoming's been nearly as sweet. Well, what can I expect? Momma ain't here to pick me up. Sure, she says she'll move up to join us soon, real soon, but she knows and I know that she and Steve are too hot 'n heavy to split up right now. Momma's dated before, but it ain't never been like this - all she can talk about is how busy Steve is with his business and how lucky they are 'cause bugs just seem to be popping up all over the place these days. I'm beginning to really think that me and Patsy are on our own for a while. And good grief, that's scary. Me and Patsy, without no one to catch us when we fall... Patsy. I get my bag and hail a cab. There've been a lot more changes than just location. ------------ "Hi, Momma," Patsy says without really feeling it, hugging and kissing me real quick before going to get her bag. I look around the wood-paneled dining room while waiting on her, trying to hold back the need to sneeze in Mrs. Krapple's face. "Thanks again for lookin' after her," I say, uncomfortable as a llama in a dog show. "And you too, Mr. Krapple!" From his armchair, he grunts and changes the channel, and we both numbly watch one of their two billion cats trot over his beer belly. Mrs. Krapple purses her lips (really a miracle, given how close together they are as it is) and gives me the money look, so I pull out my checkbook gingerly. Still ain't used to this kind of heavy lifting. Don't imagine it ever comes easy. "Here y'go," I say, handing off the check and taking Patsy's bag for her. "Everything go okay? Nothing wrong at the house?" "I saw a van parked outside, on the street," she says sternly. "A Westphalia." Damn it. Only one thing that means. And I *told* 'em not to do that! "Just the housesitters," I say with a sigh. "No problem." ------------ Patsy's falling asleep on her feet, and it's an effort to get her out the door. I don't like leaving her with the Krapples', but she needs to walk to school, and it's nice for her to be just 'cross the street from the house. Yep, a house. Backyard, porch swing, even - believe it or not - a white picket fence. Nice enough neighborhood, good schools. The boys outdid themselves when they found it - and when they made sure my salary could cover the rent. But the second I walk in, I can tell they weren't listening to my latest rant about people who break into your home without permission and do random security checks and then leave your back door unlocked. Really makes me wonder. "This job'll be the death of us, Patsy," I mutter as I wiggle her into her PJs. "Decomposition, Momma," she says in her sleep. Exhausted as I am, her words keep me up most of the night. TUESDAY The next morning, Patsy's quietly eating her breakfast. Seems she does most things quietly, these days. "You want a ride to school today, hon?" I ask after a big ol' gulp of coffee. Jet lag is such a bitch. "I gotta go into the office this morning." She shrugs. So quiet... "I got you a present in Scotland," I say, hoping it'll get a reaction out of her - and find myself facing a damn good poker face instead. "A kilt - one of those plaid wool skirts. It's real pretty." "Momma, it's summer already," she says blandly. "Well, you can wear it when it gets cooler. And," I say with a big grin, "it came with a little book on plaids and how they relate to Scottish culture and history and stuff." Hah! I know that look. Trust Patsy to get interested when there's a book involved. "Maybe I can try it on tonight," she says. But no smile. Like she's humoring me. I sigh. "Maybe." ------------ Every time I walk into the office of the Lone Gunmen, it's like the first time - 'cause they're always restacking and and resorting and rebuilding things. Today, we've got wiretap transcripts and pizza boxes stacked by the front door, the bench where they fiddle with computer bits pushed towards a heap of power strips, a dozen power cords trailing off the bench to the floor, where back issues of "The Magic Bullet" lay in neat little stacks. Neat little stacks. Well, how about that. John must have tried organizing while I was gone. And speak of the devil - he's just getting up, while Langley is just startin' towards bed and Melvin's nowhere in sight. Another normal morning. John ain't lucid 'til the second cappuccino usually (and don't expect him to get a suit on until his third or so), so I hand off my latest pick-up to Langley (can you call someone Ringo with a straight face? Well, neither can I). Yet another techy gizmo that, praise Jesus, didn't set off any airport metal detectors, though for a while I was sure it was gonna. And it seems to be what Langley wanted, 'cause he hands me my check, gesturing my booty towards a chair. I try and look away from John's morning scratching, and shove the pile of dirty t- shirts on the chair down to the floor. "I don't think I wanna do any pick-ups for a week or two," I say right off. "I need to be spending some more time with Patsy." He shrugs. "We've got a backlog of work here anyways. Mind driving to West Virginia on a John Hinckley connection? Could be a good sidebar for the next issue." I think through driving time, and leaving Patsy alone, which I don't wanna do - but she does like the mountains. Maybe it'll perk her up some. "Can it wait 'til Friday? Patsy has a day off from school then." "Sure," he says. "There's plenty to do in the meantime." And he's about to give me some of the busy work they keep me busy with, I'm sure, when Melvin runs in. "Hombres! Got a tremendous lead! Get in the van, quick!" John's in a suit and cradling a travel mug faster than you can say "conspiracy freak," and he rushes out the door with a quick "Good morning" to me. Langley just groans and knocks back some warm Jolt. Melvin grabs equipment off the walls as words spurt out of his mouth like water from a lawn sprinkler. "A guy in Baltimore says he's got serious data about that random signal we picked up - it could match the readings we got from the Oregon-" But as soon as he sees me, he stops rushing and, well, just stops. "Oh, hey Bobbie. Scotland go okay?" I shrug, watching Langley stumble towards the door, and he just keeps on talking. "Did Langley tell you about the Hinckley thing? Great. Look, can you watch the business phones for a couple of hours? We'll be back before six." They're out the door before I can say a word. And I coulda said quite a few. "Even Uhura was a receptionist," I remind myself. "And she still got to kick ass sometimes." Guess I won't be able to pick up Patsy from school. And I know she don't like walking home. Damn it all. Still, I do get to spend a day with a state-of-the-art communications system... I pick up the phone and dial. "Hello, Momma?" ------------ "You know, hon," Momma says, "it's been over a month since you got this job of yours, and I still don't get it. You make decent money-" "Yeah-" I say, nodding along. "And you get to go to all these interesting places-" "To make sensitive pick-ups and deliveries for this mail-order biz they got goin'-" "Which makes you big enough commissions to make going halfway across the world worth it." "Even though I only get to spend 24 hours in these places and all I do is meet some wannabe Ted Kaczynski and hit the airport gift shop for a present for Patsy." She stops to think it over, which can drive me mad, but hey - not my phone bill, take yo' time. "But you do get to write stories and help out at the paper, right?" "I was 'posed to be writing more, but it seems like they just use me to write filler and answer phones, Momma." I sigh. "And that conspiracy stuff..." She knows me too well. "What about it, sugar?" "Well, you know what I always say. I can believe in anything-" "-for a good story," she finishes up for me. "But these ain't good stories?" "It's all just kinda demeaning. It's stuff Jervis - you remember, that nut back at the Weekly - it's stuff he would care about. Most of it's just about famous people who died and people who might'a killed them. They got me writin' about Hinckley, Momma! I just don't think they respect me much." Always count on your momma to say the right thing. "You thought they didn't respect you at the Weekly, at first. It'll take some time, darlin', that's all." "They don't trust me too much, either," I say. "I don't think they're too used to having girls in the clubhouse." "What about that Dana lady?" Momma asks. "Didn't you meet 'em through her?" Ah, Dana. What Momma don't know... "Dana's been pretty busy, Momma," I say. "She's had a lot going on. And really, she only met 'em 'cause of Mulder." 'Member what I said about calling someone Ringo with a straight face? Well, Fox ain't much easier. "That's right - Mulder," she murmurs, and I know she feels for the boy, since she only ever knew that he was sick and it took a while for him to get better. "And how's he doin'?" I take the phone to the back room, where the boys tend to bunk down. Three beds and a cot - and three of 'em were occupied last night. Langley didn't go to bed, though. Guess they had company. Again. "I don't know, Momma," I sigh. "I really don't know." ------------ After hanging up with Momma and using the phone to catch up with some old friends from high school, I take a breath and call Dana's cell phone. We've only talked a few times since Patsy and me came to D.C. - she recommending me a pediatrician, letting me know how Joshie was doing, and if Mulder was feeling better. We ain't had much of a chance for girl talk, though. With interstate moving and getting abducted boyfriends healthy, it's pretty easy to understand why. Calling her cell is probably the best option. God knows what she's up to right now... Three rings and a flustered "Scully." "Dana, hey there. It's Bobbie." She sighs. Hoping for someone else, I'd bet. "Hey, Bobbie." There's a pause, and I can hear Josh crying in the background. Oh, dear... "How you doin' there, hon?" I ask. She sounds like she's about to scream. "He's too old to have colic. Diaper's clean, he's fed, he just got up from a nap..." "Try pickin' him up and jiggling him and making faces," I say. She seems desperate enough to try anything at this point. Joshie's either crying louder or we've gone into the room he's in. There's a shuffling noise or two, a few raspberry sounds from Dana... And a happy little baby giggle. "Incredible," Dana whispers. "Patsy got real lonely at that age, too." Another raspberry noise and another baby giggle. "Thanks, Bobbie." If only kids were that easy to please now. "No problem, hon." "So what were you calling about?" Oh, yeah. "I'm babysitting the phones at the boys' place. Thought I'd call ya and see how things are." "Well..." she pauses. "Things are... good. Josh is nearly sleeping through the night. I should be able to go into work full-time pretty soon." "And how's Mulder?" It's been sounding like her phone's in between her shoulder and cheek, and I can hear her breath hitch a bit, right before her voice gets sad and harsh. "How the hell should I know?" ------------ Dana's never really opened up to me before. But for some reason, today I slip on a headset, put up my feet, and get the whole story from her. She's been seeing him, of course, pretty regularly. Talking on the phone, meeting for lunch, that sort of thing. But they just talk about the work and the weather and make sure they're both breathing. He asks about "the baby." He never asks about Josh. "He isn't ready for this," she says. "He could barely handle his neuroses before he lost ten months of his life. And now he has all these unanswered questions - and Mulder with an unanswered question is like a dog with a bone." "He's in a tough place right now," I say, playing the good sounding board. "It's personal for him," she mutters. "It's always been personal for him." Oh, she sounds way too defeated. "But that don't mean that he shouldn't be helping you out. It doesn't give him the right to wimp out on you." She pauses. "I've never really been able to get him to do anything. Not unless he wants to do it. He deals with things in his own way." Part of me wants to tell her to kick her man's ass but good. No way she deserves this. But it ain't my life. "Honey, he is gonna have to deal with this eventually. He is a daddy now. He can't go running around stickin' his nose into who knows what trying to figure out what the hell happened to him. I've never seen him around here, he's trying so hard to get his questions answered, but it just ain't fair to Josh - or you." It ain't my life. But it is my friend. She don't say anything for a minute, just thinking, before a sentence or two comes out real quiet. "I remember that morning in Oregon... Everything felt like it was going to work out, at last." And then, so softly I can barely hear it: "Whatever happened to happily ever after?" I think of Patsy's quiet face. The face I thought would light up with livin' in D.C., but instead doesn't even glance at the cherry blossoms. What happened to happily-ever-after? Beats the hell outta me. ------------ Sun on my back, cold drink in hand... "Oooh, Paolo, this mai-tai is dee-vine..." "Uh, Bobbie?" I spring awake quickly. "Sorry, so sorry, I only put my head down for a minute..." I stop speaking when I realize that the face scrutinizing mine don't write my paychecks - and that it ain't too scary to wake up to. "You're here," I say. Though it's only partly true. Man, Mulder looks like shit. Hair's a mess, with way too much stubble goin' on, and there's no life in his face - it's all stress and sleep deprivation. He rubs his eyes blearily. "Where are they?" he asks, and it takes me a mo' to figure out what he means, distracted as I am by how disgusting his clothes look. What was he crawling through, tar pits? Better not to ask, I guess... "They had some lead about a signal..." I check the clock, and a dozen curses cram onto my tongue. "But they said they'd be back an hour ago." His gaze looks hazy as a smoggy Beltway morning. "Damn it, they shouldn't have gone, I could have told them what was happening..." He glances at the papers he's got under his arm, and then finally really looks at me. "Do you want to leave? I need to get some work done, and I can manage things here." I try not to look too eager. I'm pretty sure I don't manage it. "Sure, if it's okay with you." While I get my purse, I look him over a bit. I mean, REALLY look. I look at the hunched back, the sleepy face, the messy hair, and the torn, filthy clothes. The slow way he sits down in front of a computer, carefully setting down his weary bones. I want to hate him for the way he's treating Dana. I want to hate him for not being there for Josh - for proving right all the awful things I've ever thought about men. But I look at those bent shoulders of his and know that they could never support a baby's weight. Not right now, at least. "I talked to Dana," I mention as I walk to the door, and his eyes light up, just a bit. "She's doing good. She misses you, though," I say, answering the questions I saw on his face. "And she could use your help with Josh." At the kid's name, his gaze drops from mine. "I can't help Joshua until I help myself. And I can't even seem to do that anymore, no matter how hard..." he mutters, real soft. That's about when I get a good eyeful of the pile of paper he brought in, perched oh-so-innocent by his elbow. Covered with all sorts of little notes. Oh, man, it's just too tempting... I walk back towards him and pat his shoulder real easy with my left hand. "I'm sure everything's gonna work out," is all I can think to say, but he sighs at the touch, not looking up. Making a big show of checking my watch (on my left wrist), I exclaim at the time and rush out the door, pretending not to feel his gaze on my back. Purse in my left hand. The first piece of paper off Mulder's pile in my right. Sure, it's wrong. But I'm curious, goddammit. Dana deserves answers, and I gotta wonder why I spent an entire day in that fire hazard of a dust bowl. And no one's about to tell me anything. Thoughts of Mulder stay with me, though, as I drive home. I mean, for him, it ain't about stories and headlines and glory. It's about getting back his life - taking back what someone took from him. But really. How can you believe in aliens? End Part 1 of 3 Believe It Or Not By EPurSeMouve Part 2 of 3 WEDNESDAY Dammit, I think, as I roll over in bed, clutching my stomach. Pizza might'a been the easy solution for dinner last night - but the indigestion ain't no picnic. I think I might be 'llergic to milk - but what'll I say to Ben and Jerry? The night passes real slow, and I distract myself with thoughts about Mulder and his stack of papers and what the hell I'm supposed to do with the one piece I've got. Around 3 AM or so, I remember how I found information on Mulder that first time - and that I've got some two- year-old Tums hiding in the medicine cabinet. A few hours of sleep, a quiet breakfast with Patsy and a silent drive to her school, and I'm back at home, telecommutin'. The computer the guys gave me is quite a machine, let me tell you. There are some brand name parts in here, I think - but no way in hell they came from the same machine. They said that they were able to combine the best features from two dozen manufacturers. All I know is that when it first starts up, all my computer knows is Polish. I consult the list of instructions, and soon I've got a souped-up Ukrainian web browser before me. Hey, I just consider myself lucky it runs Windows. You can find anything on the Internet, right? I'm hoping so. Tap tap and I'm at a search engine, plugging in key phrases from this paper of Mulder's. "Magnetic fields." "Radar signals." "Vaccine storage." Man, this is insane... Who knows what porn sites this is gonna send me to? Amazingly, not that many. But just when I think I've found something... The phone rings. "Bobbie, it's Langley. We have an emergency. Bean dip's low, and Frohike's all out of the Dew. Could you pick up supplies and drop them off here?" He hangs up before I can say no. Damn it all. I leave the computer on and grab my purse, muttering about adolescents in the bodies of grown men. But it ain't until I get home, and find that my bookmarks file has been completely crashed, that I realize how convenient their timing was. You let doubts creep up on ya, observing how little people trust you, what they do to avoid letting you know anything important. But it takes something like this to make it all hit home. Been busting my ass for six weeks, doing what they tell me, and they pull a stunt like this? Well, to be fair, this could all be a simple mistake. I got no proof. Yet. ------------ I plan it all carefully. Every Wednesday night, Langley's out at an all-night Dungeons and Dragons game - I know what it's called, 'cause it's my job to Xerox his character sheets. John usually takes that time to work on the next issue before going to bed early (and man, does he sleep like the dead). And Melvin... You REALLY don't wanna know what Melvin does. But he's not gonna be there. So, tonight, John'll be asleep by 11 or so, and it'll be pretty easy for me to poke around undisturbed... Oh, damn it. Mulder. The wild card. Guess I gotta tame him. ------------ "Hello, Dana? It's Bobbie." Whaddaya know? She sounds happy to hear from me. "Hey, Bobbie. How are you?" "All right. But I gotta ask you for a favor." Shoot. Shouldn't have said it so fast. She might get suspicious. But keep going, keep going... "I'd like to borrow Joshie for a night. Patsy's been reading these baby care books-" Mental note. Buy Patsy baby care books to read. "-and she wants to give a real kid a try. She's real smart, you remember, and I'd be around to keep an eye on everything." Hmm. Nothing from Dana. Take the offensive... "So how's tonight for ya?" She sighs, finally saying something. "I don't know, Bobbie. I don't like being separated from him. At the least, he's good company." Oh, honey, you just walked right into that one. "You know, Dana, I was thinkin' about something. It seems to me that you and Mulder ain't gotten any time together since he," I choose my words carefully, "got back. Maybe that's the root of all your troubles - you just haven't had any time to talk since Oregon." She's quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Finally: "You'll really take Josh tonight?" "I'll pick him up at 7:30. He can even spend the night, if you want." No one ever said I was subtle, okay? "I don't really think that'll be necessary," she says real quick. "I appreciate the thought, though." Damn shame, if you ask me. If anyone needs it... ------------ 7:32 PM and Patsy is knocking on Dana's door, me right by her side. Dana answers in a hurry, letting yummy cooking smells drift out. "There are a couple of bottles in here," she says, handing me a baby bag and the car seat, Joshie balanced on her hip. "And plenty of diapers. Can you hold Josh, Patsy? Just like this." Patsy takes her in with those scary smart eyes of hers. "I could hold him like that, but Dr. Spock says belly-to-belly makes the baby feel more secure. And then _Your Baby and Child_ says..." I ran to the bookstore this afternoon. And Patsy can read real quick. Dana blinks, then hands the baby to Patsy, who does just fine. "Good luck tonight!" I call out, just before she closes the door after thanking us. "What's she doin' tonight, Momma?" Patsy asks. The first question she's asked me in a long time. "She's gonna talk to that boyfriend of hers. Josh's daddy." She seems surprised. "Josh has a real daddy?" I pat her head. "Almost, baby. Almost." ------------ A baby on my hip and my little girl beside me. Couldn't exactly leave Josh alone, and Patsy'll manage the computers in half the time I'd need. It's past all our bedtimes, but the office is quiet and dark as a church during Monday Night Football. "Patsy, hon, turn on the flashlight," I whisper, and there's a thin beam of light in the darkness. All we had at home was Patsy's old Fisher Price flashlight, and I think the batteries are low. I check to make sure Josh's pacifier is still in his mouth, and try to get back in sync with the office. Snack food by the computers, photography and bugging equipment heaped by the door, and paper records... Pretty much everywhere. "Hon," I say to Patsy, "Can you look on the computer, see if there's anything there?" She's not looking so quiet tonight - instead, she seems pretty nervous. But she's my girl - always able to rise above it. "What am I lookin' for, Momma?" I think about the phone calls I made that the boys always had strange insight about. The constant intrusions into my home. The corrupted bookmarks file on the computer they gave me. "Anything about us, sugar. ANYTHING." Soon, she's clicking around while I dig through the piles of paper around this hamster cage. They never showed me what the wiretap records look like, but I managed to figure it out for myself a while ago. "Momma," Patsy says softly after a mo' or two. "Is this it? These files are encrypted." They're labeled rcollins1, 2, 3, 4... Patsy looks up how big they are and they're HUGE. Those cousin-screwin' jerk-offs! "That's it, honey," I say, sweet as I can given the circumstances. "Good job." Her face gets softer at the praise. I ain't been spending NEARLY enough time with her... "This means they're watching us, don't it, Momma?" I sigh, jiggling a suddenly fussy Josh. "Looks like, hon. But don't worry. I'm gonna take care of it." I look around this place, which had felt like freedom for so long. These boys don't know what's coming to 'em. When I look at the clock and realize that Dana will be pickin' up Josh any minute now, I throw us into panic mode. We speed home, outrunning a cop or two, and make it back to the house just as the phone's ringing. "Bobbie? It's Dana." She's out of breath, too. Strange... "Dana? How ya doin'?" "I know I said I'd pick up Josh tonight... Hey! Bobbie, hold on a sec..." That 'hey' had a little laugh in it. And I can hear her talking to someone else - someone with a voice that's all gravel and honey. And here she comes again... "Does your offer to take Josh for the night still stand?" I'm plumb exhausted, now that the panic of getting home on time is gone, and I'm pissed as hell about finding what I knew I'd find. But something tells me Dana didn't know anything about it. And it does my heart good to hear that little laugh, and what I'm sure is the faint brushing of hands over skin. Hell, just 'cause I can't get laid don't mean I'd deprive a friend. "Sure, hon, no problem. You and Mulder have a nice night," I add, with a half-hearted attempt at a tease. She lowers her voice, and that happy tone becomes solemn and serious. "Thank you, Bobbie. Thank you." And then, dial tone. Now where did my self-righteous anger go? I take a hard look at the phone, and then just like in the movies, I unscrew the receiver. And there's a little black thingy glued inside. Ah, there's that self-righteous anger again. I'm gonna need it. Joshie starts crying again, and I prepare for another sleepless night. THURSDAY My plan is real simple - barge into the office, confront the boys with my evidence, demand an explanation. Then, drop by Dana's, drop off Josh, and go home and sleep for the rest of the day. If I time my entrance at the office so that John hasn't had his first cup of joe, the advantage will be all mine. But as I near the door and input the security code, I hear lots of voices inside. Not part of my game plan at all. Checking again to make sure Joshie's pacifier is secure (what was I gonna do, leave him in the car like a dog?), I go through the inner door, quiet as I can, and just listen. "...I should have talked to Scully about this a lot earlier - she managed to point out what I was missing, and so we're past that one stumbling block we were having. I think we can pinpoint the signal now..." "There's that site in West Virginia, near the Virginia border, just like I was thinking..." "It fits with the data we have, all right." "But let's be practical. Is there really landing room for a ship?" A ship? I squeeze Joshie a little tighter, but he makes a little baby whine, and when I try and shush him... "Bobbie? Is that you?" Dana's voice. I step into the main room, where the whole gang is waiting, bright-eyed and bushytailed. We're all quiet, and I hate that, 'cause he first thought to fly into my head usually breaks the silence. "What kind of ship?" See? It's Dana that answers, after exchanging a look with Mulder. There's a lotta awkwardness between them in that look, but at least there's communication, too. "A ship of extraterrestrial origin." I think my jaw drops. "A UFO? You can't be serious." "When it poses this kind of threat, we just can't help it," Langley says. Melvin continues the thought. "You've written about it yourself. For us and the Weekly World News." I start to stutter. "That was just a story. Do the interview, write up the info, turn it in on time. I can believe in anything for a good story." They all look at each other, but it's Mulder who speaks, and it hurts more because it comes from him. "But what about afterwards? Is it just a waste of time?" His crumpled body by the roadside, those bruises I saw on his arms, the amazing idea that it could be true, followed by a big thud of reality... Offensive, girl. Get them on the run. "At least I had some respect for privacy. I didn't go tapping phones." They ain't shocked I found out, which is damn unfair. Melvin just shrugs. "It's SOP, Bobbie. We don't know much about you." "And you don't trust me." Man, this is annoying. John answers. "You don't believe the work we do is valid. How can we?" Gawd, I'm about to scream. "Then why'd you hire me in the first place?" Melvin again. "We needed the help. And you said yes." Langley nods back to the table. "We don't have much time, guys. Tomorrow night, remember? Employee counseling later." I can't believe this. "Y'all are going after a UFO tomorrow night?" I turn to Dana - that red head of hers is supposed to be sane. "You gotta be kidding me. Alien hunting? You got a son!" Her look is mean and even. "That's right, Bobbie. And I owe him a chance to grow up safe. He could be at risk - we all could be - if we don't do this." I sigh, giving up as I walk over and put Josh in her arms. "This is insane. Too insane. Best of luck to y'all." I turn to go, but John's voice calls me back. It's him who asks me, almost snottily, "Are you still going to cover the Hinckley story?" I grab the file, fighting the suspicion that I got something to prove now. "You better believe it." ------------ "So, Momma, now I've got 'em all pissed at me, and I feel bad about it, but I don't know how I can buy into this mess." It's late - believe me, I know it - but Patsy's asleep and no one else is gonna listen to me ramble. And Momma always has all the answers. "Hon, no one ever said you had to. It's just like with your cousin Janey Lou - she don't believe in eating meat, so we just make her some eggplant at Thanksgiving, along with the turkey. You just gotta make allowances for each other." I sigh. "But it ain't as easy as that. It's a real big deal for them. They seriously believe something bad's gonna happen tomorrow, and I just blew it off. And you make fun of Janey Lou bein' a vegetarian all the time." "Damn girl don't know what she's missing," Momma grumbles, then goes on. "Honey, if they're so gung-ho about this, maybe there's something to it. Maybe you're not being fair to 'em. You said they got lots of data and research on whatever's happening." "Aliens, Momma? I mean, you can't be serious." "Roberta..." Oh my gawd, she's actually serious. "Roberta, if youda told me twenty years ago that I'd be living with the CEO of the tenth-largest computer corporation in the South..." What? You thought she was dating an exterminator? "...I woulda asked you how many beers you'd had already and swiped your keys. This world is a real strange place sometimes. And who's to say Bigfoot and aliens don't have a place in it?" "You're right, Momma," I sigh. But her voice gets real sharp. "Well, hon, I might not be. You gotta make this decision on your own. I can't tell you how much to believe in these people. I just say - give them a chance." I smile. "How could I live without ya, Momma?" "I think you're doing pretty good right now, myself," she replies. My eyes flicker to Patsy's door, which hasn't got anything on it. She always decorated her door before. "I don't think Patsy would agree with you." "Honey, you ain't giving yourself enough of a chance. Quit beating yourself down and LISTEN to her - then, if she really is having problems, you can solve them. That's the secret of bein' a momma." I sigh. "What? Solving problems?" "No, honey. Listening." I think about it. And then, I smile. "Thanks, Momma." "You're welcome, sugar. Now get some sleep. You sound pooped." We hang up and I go to bed. And this time, I actually manage to get to sleep. Too bad my alarm is gonna go off early. FRIDAY I shake Patsy awake at the buttcrack of dawn, which ain't really easy. "Lemme sleep, Momma," she keeps muttering, burrowing under the covers. Finally, I have to take hold and pull 'em back. "C'mon. We're gonna go on a little road trip. Mountains, hon. Pretty mountains. You can even bring your books..." "Don't wanna. Wanna stay home with Grandma." She's really zonked. "Grandma's in Atlanta, honey," I say, a bit annoyed. "And we need to get goin'..." Tell the truth, I wouldn't mind curling back into bed. Getting some sleep that wasn't filled with the awful dreams I had last night - aliens massacring and killing, those goofy boys under fire, Mulder cradling Dana's lifeless body... "Patsy, come ON," I yell. Oh, god, kids whose mommas scream end up on Jerry Springer, don't they? Well, at least she gets up. ------------ Patsy reads and I listen to the radio until it fades to static. S'all right, though. I got plenty to think about. We got three hours before we reach Baker. Maybe it's time to start doing what Momma said - listen. After I get her to talk, 'course... "Honey? Put down the book for a sec." She doesn't say anything, but goes ahead and uses her finger as a bookmark. "I was thinking, sugar, that maybe this summer you'd wanna spend some time with Grandma. You know, before your camp starts." She shrugs. "You could go see your friends..." "I didn't really have any friends in Atlanta," she says all of a sudden, interrupting me for the first time in forever. "We were only there for a few months, and all the other kids knew each other." "You, honey? I can't see why the other kids wouldn't include you. You're so cute and funny and smart..." Her eyes get wide, and I wonder how long it's been since she heard that from me. From now on, I'm gonna say it once a day. "And you were out playing most afternoons..." "I was at the library," is all she says. My heart breaks at the thought of my brilliant, lonely, little girl. "I never knew, hon. You had friends in Nashville, though..." She shakes her head. Oh, dear... "How come you never told me?" She's speaking softly, serious and calm. "You were always real busy and worried about your job or money. It's not that important. I'm just always the new kid. That's what happens when you move so much." My brilliant, lonely, practical little girl. Who deserves so much better. "Well, we're not going to be movin' for a long time now, hon. I promise you," I say, trying to be as reassuring as I can. "But you were so upset about your job yesterday, Momma. And you were talkin' real excited on the phone with Grandma last night. Are you sure?" Good grief, she's as nosy as me. Better at it, too. "Hey," I say, getting her eyes on me. "I don't run away from things. I run towards them. And this is the best deal for us right now." She pauses to think about that, biting at a nail - my old manicurist instincts cringe (I wasn't always a writer, but I did always use my hands), but I know she gets comfort from it, and I just can't deny her that right now. "Grandma isn't gonna move up soon, is she?" I sigh. "I don't imagine so. But she's real happy. And you wanna know a secret?" She raises her eyebrows. "You and me, we've never really been on our own before. And I think we're gettin' pretty good at it. We got some problems, sure, but we've come real far. And I for one like the way that feels." She gives it some thought, her forehead wrinkled. Finally: "It'd be nice to see Grandma, but I wouldn't want to leave you alone. Maybe she can come to visit us, with her boyfriend." I smile, and lean over to stroke her cheek. "Maybe." Patsy leans against me for a mo', and then reaches for the radio dial. Although there's tons of static, she's able to find a signal. "Crazy... Crazy for feelin' so blue..." We grin at each other, and join in on the chorus. "And I'm crazy for lying, and crazy for trying, and I'm crazy for loving you..." We're both off-key. But Patsy's voice is real sweet. End Part 2 of 3 Believe It Or Not By EPurSeMouve Part 3 of 3 I walk out of Mr. Conrad's house with major chills and my folded arms still protecting my breasts. Where do the boys FIND these creeps? That jerk would never have fit under a rock. It's a cute little town, though - Patsy said she'd stay close to the car, but I bet she's under some tree in a park, reading happily and glaring at any strangers who come near her. I check my watch; she'll be back in half an hour. I'll just wait in the car... "Oh, Paolo..." Warm sun, ocean air, and no barriers between me and his strong, firm massage... "Momma?" I rub the sleep outta my eyes. "Hey, hon. Have a nice time?" She looks behind, where some other kids are standing, and waves at them. Then, with a giggle, she sticks her tongue out at them - they laugh, and yell goodbye. She gets in the car. "I guess you did," I reply to my own question, smiling. She grins back. "They were at the library. I just tried saying hello." She holds up her current book. "Want me to read out loud while you drive?" _The Canterbury Tales - Modern English Translation_. Well, don't sound like there'll be any sex bits I'll have to explain... "Sure, hon. Sure." ------------ It's slowly growing darker, Patsy reading slower as the light dims, when I see a sudden flash of light in the rearview mirror; strange and bright and full of color, that lingers, getting stronger, it seems. Weird. Too weird. West Virginia. They were going to West Virginia. Near the Virginia border. And all my nightmares come rushing back. I pull the car over, death and tragedy and that blinding light all I can see. Ohmygodohmygod... That couldn't have been it. It couldn't be true. "Momma? Everything okay?" Patsy's voice. *We could all be at risk...* I swallow, shaking my head, my eyes shut tight. "Hon? Do me a favor. Pull out the map and see if there are any military bases around here." A quick rustling of paper, and Patsy's found it. "There's an Air Force base a coupla miles behind us. Why, Momma?" I gun the engine and whip the car around. "Just gotta check on somethin', sweetie. Shouldn't take too long." I say it even though I don't believe it. Like they say in the movies... I got a very bad feeling about this. ------------ I can tell we're getting close, 'cause the sound of sirens is getting louder. Patsy lets me know where the exit right before the exit for the military base is, and that's where I get off the freeway. They woulda approached on foot - at least, that's what I would do, and I picked it up eavesdropping on them. I turn onto a dirt road, surrounded by trees. Instinct says to keep going, and instinct is a great thing to have around, mainly 'cause it's often right. Like today. A few minutes down the road, and I can see the Westphalia's tail lights reflecting my high beams. I get outta the car and poke around. They shoulda left one door unlocked, in case there was a problem when they got back... Here we go. Passenger side. Just as I'm sticking my head into the van, the sirens start to get even more noisy, screaming like a toddler with a skinned knee. And there's something else... Kinda a roaring sound, getting louder... I start rummaging around the back, and I see Dana's purse - one of them huge bags all us mommies end up with for a while. That roaring sound is getting way too loud - huge and earth-shaking and I'll admit it, terrifying. "Momma, what is that?" Patsy yells, her hands clasped over her ears. "I dunno! But get back to the car, sugar!" "Not without you, Momma!" Scared but so so brave. How can she wow me and piss me off in one breath? That noise just keeps getting louder and I don't know what to do. All I do know is that dollars to donuts, Mulder and Dana and the boys are in the middle of what's shaping up to be an unbelievable mess. And if that roaring noise is any indication, things are going even worse. What do you do when things are going bad? I remind myself. Suck it up and try to handle it. But make sure there's back-up. Back-up... I grab Dana's mommy bag and dig around until I strike pay dirt - her cell phone. I pass it to Patsy - I can't push the buttons with these nails of mine. "Hon, you know how to work these things?" She shakes her head at first, but after a few seconds of fiddling, she switches to a nod. "Who do you wanna call?" Hmm, good question. "She got speed dial or a number index on that thing?" A little more fiddling... "There's a name index, yeah." I concentrate, remembering that morning in Oregon that went from bad to good with the words "No, but Frohike is Jewish." The first time I met the boys, in fact - they were there, and Dana and Mulder were there, and there was this other guy - bald head but big enough shoulders to handle any load. Now what was his name? "Look for something with Skin in it," I say after a minute's focus. That sounds right, I'm pretty sure. Especially when Patsy's eyes light up. "Here, Momma!" She shows me the phone. "Walter Skinner." I release a gasp I didn't know I was holding. "Good job, sugar. Now, I need you to go get in the car and call him. Tell him where we are and that I think we need help." Her eyes are wide, but she looks bravely up at me. "But what about you, Momma?" I hug her, real quick, and walk her back towards the car, trying to say what I gotta say without sounding too scared. "I'm just gonna go see what's going on. You know me. I can't resist a peek. I'll be just fine." "You can't know that!" she yells over the sirens and the roaring, panicked. I look at her, real stern. "I've been in trouble lots of times, but there's only been one time that I didn't get out of it. And that was because I was pregnant with you, and I didn't *want* to get out of that." I kiss her. "Don't worry. And call Mr. Skinner. I'll be back soon, so just stay here until someone comes." Finally got her to keep quiet. I shut the car door and watch her start to make the call. My brave, beautiful little girl. After one more look, just in case, I turn towards the sound of disaster, and I start to run. ------------ It's a big forest, and my boots ain't exactly the best for running, but the first thing I trip over is Mulder. He's just outside the fences of the base, grasping his sides, completely panicked. His face don't lighten up much at seeing me. "Bobbie? What are you doing here?" No sense in lying. "Bein' nosy." I look him over -- thin, bony thing, even six weeks after coming home, and his chest is moving up and down way too fast. "What about you?" He keeps looking at the base, watching as no sign of the others shows up. "I couldn't make it over the fence." His face twists with anger - at himself, I'd guess. "Haven't been keeping up with the physical therapy..." I point to the headset he's wearing. "You're standin' watch, at least." He suddenly darts to attention - seems the radio just came alive. "Scully? Are you in?" He looks to the compound, and I think I can see a shadow through one of the windows. "You're at the lab already? Is it the right vial? Check the serial number..." And all of a sudden, his face lightens. "All right. See if you can find the other data..." Suddenly, he freezes, and I see it, too - a bunch of other shadows moving towards the one in the window. "Scully, get down!" he barks all of a sudden. "Six approaching, look armed." The DanaShadow goes away, and that other cloud looks pretty clueless. But they ain't going away. "How much time you guys got in there?" His face looks frozen as stone, tense as a spring. "In fifteen minutes, Langley has to restore the security grid. And we still have to wipe the mainframes and recover the last vials." Mainframes? Vials? I try to not say anything, though. Not the time for questions - not while Dana's still in there. "Patsy's calling that Skinner fella. He's your friend, right?" He exhales. "Now he is. Yeah." I wonder what it took him to become a friend. Sounds like it didn't happen easy. "We're only an hour or two away from D.C. He might make it." Mulder doesn't say anything - just keeps looking at that window, where there are still people looking for one short redhead. "Oh, gawd," I mumble, as the sirens get even louder. "How can this be happening?" He suddenly looks at me, just for a mo', and it feels like he's questioning my very existence. "What are you doing here? You didn't seem to have much faith before." I suck it up and swallow my pride. I been asking myself that same question, and I only got one answer: "I can believe in anything for a good story," I say, focusing on the same window above. "Or a good friend." ------------- It takes a few minutes of us all bein' quiet, but those big shadows finally go away and the little shadow gets up. I can hear Mulder mumbling, "Get outta there, Scully, get moving..." And she does, and my heart's in my throat as I listen to Mulder give his POV on the set-up and watch her move, collecting whatever she's collecting. The roaring keeps getting louder, though, and when Mulder seems to have a mo': "Do you know where that noise is comin' from?" But all he does is point towards the sky... Oh, holy shit. It's not big but it's getting bigger - a gray disc that's moving downwards steadily... You know what? It's a lot easier to believe in UFOs right now. Seeing one helps that a lot. "It's going to take out the base, we think," he says softly. "They want what we're getting - this is one of the last places that the vaccine would have been kept..." "How'd you know that?" "We didn't. We waited to see where the ship was going, and moved from there." He suddenly stops talking, his gaze moving from the base to me for a mo', and it's so clear what he's thinking: friend or foe? "Scully trusts you," he says at last. "That doesn't happen too often." "Well, I ain't betrayed her trust before." Came damn close, but stayed on the right side of that line. "Maybe that's why." "Maybe," he says, distracted once again as he takes in what Scully's whispering to him. I pick at my nails, and watch that gray disc get closer and closer. Suddenly, the world's all action. Dana comes running outside, her backpack looking mighty heavy, and the boys come running from the side a few seconds later. They didn't know I was here, and they look surprised, but there's too much happening to really bother about that now. I catch their equipment when they throw it over the fence - that seems to surprise 'em even more. The sirens, impossible as you'd think it'd be, get even louder. They climb over the fence quick as lightning, and we all start to run - but just as we get moving... Damn. That sure sounded like a gun being cocked to me. "Turn around, reach for the skies, and freeze!" a voice yells, strong and Southern. We do, but there's something strange here. I know that voice... "Jimmy? Jimmy Hanks from Jacksonville?" I ask, trying not to sound too scared. Melvin tries to shush me, but I could swear... He's decked out commando-style, but lifts his helmet's visor. And suddenly, I'm a lot less scared. "Bobbie Collins?" His voice is a lot less strong now. "Jimmy, hon, what you doin' here?" I ask, absurdly hoping to keep this friendly. I can already see his gun wobbling towards the ground... Jimmy never could hurt a fly... He almost smiles. Behind me, I think I hear Langley drop a ten thousand dollar laptop. "Servin' my country and exploitin' the G.I. Bill," Jimmy says. "What about you?" I get serious in a hurry, and press my advantage. "Tellin' you that this place is about to get busted up bad." I point upwards. "The Atlanta Street Tire Fire times one billion. I'd get outta here, if I were you." He looks up, and what I can see of his face gets real pale. With a few quick glances over his shoulder (no other soldiers on the horizon, praise Jesus), he looks right at me, and I can see what a difference years of military life makes on a smart-alecky 12-year-old. "Hey, Bobbie, know what I'm doin' now?" "What?" He nods. "I'm turning around and counting to ten. That's what I'm doin'." I blow him a kiss before he makes it all the way around. And then, with John and Melvin supporting Mulder, we run. Dana gives me a strange look as we dart between the trees, and I can see her begging for an explanation. "Used... to babysit... for him..." I manage to huff out. Absurd as it seems, she laughs - laughs! - and keeps on running. Don't know why she's so surprised. Farther you travel, it's always seemed to me, the smaller the world gets. ------------ Patsy's arms are tight 'round my middle when the base goes boom - we all watch from the safety of the clearing by the cars. I hope Jimmy made it out all right. He always was good at hide and seek - or running away after taking pictures of me and my boyfriend on the couch. Melvin's smiling - we all are, with relief and the rush of winning. John and Langley high-five each other, and in the van, Mulder and Dana are playing python-and-goat over the contents of the backpack. After the feeling of exhilaration dies down, we agree to meet back at the office. WE agree, me included. They're including me, and goddamn, it feels good. We're about an hour away from D.C., though, when Patsy shifts uncomfortably and pulls something out from underneath her on the seat - Dana's cell phone. Aw, crap. The back-up. "Patsy? Baby, was that number you used for the Skinner guy a cell phone number?" She catches on. "Want me to call him?" Attagirl... I nod and she's got his phone ringing in no time. "Hi, Mr. Skinner? It's me again, Patsy Collins? My momma wanted me to tell you that everything's okay and the military base blowed up so you don't have to come and help... Yeah, I can ask..." She cups her hand over the phone. "He wants to talk to you." I reach out and prepare to touch someone. Cell phone in one hand, steering wheel in the other. Hope Dana doesn't mind us running up her bill like this... "Hello, there - Mr. Skinner, right? I bet you wanna explanation for all this. You know where the boys' office is? We're all meetin' there." I hear him sigh - he's just experienced a Collins tag-team, though; I don't blame him. "I'll turn around and be there in an hour," he growls, then hangs up. Regular party we've got going. Though I don't really think that that's what it'll actually be. ------------ Then again, I've been wrong before. When the boys start analyzing those test tubes, and find out that they are what they're supposed to be (whatever that is), John breaks out a six-pack and some apple juice for Patsy. Langley jams up an Incubus CD and Melvin teaches Patsy a few swing steps. She giggles. But as the party turns into the boys talking about what they can do with the new trajectory info they have on the ship, Mulder and Dana share a look and start gathering up their things. "We're going to go pick up Josh from my mother's," Dana says quietly to me. "Before it gets real late." She touches my arm, a gesture that's thanks unsaid and she's on her way. As they walk out, Mulder hesitates, then slips his hand to Dana's lower back. It's awkward for a minute, like they're trying to learn something they forgot a long time ago, but then it's natural and right, and they lean against each other as the door shuts behind 'em. Sex don't solve all problems. But at least they're talking about them again. I look around, feeling content, but realize that Mr. Skinner, after getting his explanation and everything, is now just sitting in the corner, listening to the boys and their technobabble. I hate to see anyone looking that uncomfortable, and grab two beers before crossing over to him. "I wanna thank you for bein' there when Patsy called," I say quickly, handing him a longneck. "You were a good friend to Dana in Oregon, and you were a good friend to Patsy tonight." He seems strangely pleased by that, popping off the bottle cap with big strong hands - I gulp, trying to focus on what I was saying. "I'm glad that if things had gone wrong, you woulda been there for her." "You took quite a risk," he says, but he don't mean it meanly. I smile and chug. "Mr. Skinner, whenever I take a risk, it's usually worth it." He extends his hand. "Call me Walter." As we shake hands, I realize something. Add some hair on top and a tan, and he'd be a dead ringer for Paolo. Dangerous thought, that. I mean, really. I just ain't got the time. Right now, anyways. But Paolo... That reminds me. I excuse myself and go interrupt the boys. "I been thinkin'," I say after getting their attention (only took three throat clearings, a cough, and a loud whistle), "that you guys are gonna have a lot going on over the next few weeks. And that maybe you need someone to take over running the Magic Bullet for a while." Eyebrows raise. "You?" Melvin asks. "It'd free you boys up some. And it'd give me something productive to do. I've been watching you guys, and I'm sure I can pick up what I've missed." I don't tell 'em about some of the plans I got for the Bullet - sure, conspiracy stuff has potential, but there's a whole world of possibilities that they're missing. I mean, there could be a whole special issue on Elvis! "But what about the deliveries?" John asks. I sigh. "I know you don't trust FedEx, but I can't go globetrotting all the time. I got a daughter, you know. She comes first." Patsy's been getting less and less shy all night, and for some reason, that just put the capper on everything for her. She comes over to me and hugs me real tight - I think I hear her say something like "You're my first too, Momma." I ain't sure - but it doesn't matter. Lookin' down at her head, I remember what my point in coming to talk to the guys was. "You know, though," I say slyly as I can, "if y'all wanted to give me one or two deliveries once in a while, maybe during the summer so that Patsy could come too, I'd consider it. I mean, I bet there's a client somewhere in the region of..." I pause for effect. "Tahiti?" Eyebrows raise - again. "No way," Melvin says, but I got three inch heels of height advantage that I start to push on him. Soon, his back is against the wall, and me and Patsy are both starin' him down. "You boys had bugs crawlin' around my home for six weeks," I remind him sternly. "And Patsy and me wanna see Hawaii." I look down at her to confirm, and she nods, real certain. His eyes flicker towards John and Langley, both of whom are way too stunned. "I don't think we can do Hawaii." "I bought you *bean dip*. And you still haven't paid me back." I take a breath. "Jamaica." The three of them share a glance, and I know I've won. "Cayman Islands?" Melvin offers. I let him sweat for just a sec, letting the moment dangle... Before giving 'em a big ol' smile. Once you know how to handle 'em, they're actually real sweet. "Close enough." I grab my purse then, and with a final wink at Walter, steer myself and Patsy towards the door. "It's gettin' a bit late for me. I'll see y'all on Monday." "And if something comes up?" John calls out. I turn back to 'em, hiding a yawn behind my hand, as I prepare to shut the door. "It's been a long week, guys. I think I need some sleep." END AUTHOR'S NOTES: You know, it's very strange how things work out. When I wrote "Inquiring Minds," the first story featuring Bobbie Collins, I had intended it to be a snarky post-ep for "Requiem" - an episode I wasn't entirely pleased by, in some ways. But as I was writing it, I found that this strange voice had its own take on the situation, and as I wrote, that voice became more and more human. She felt empathy for "Dana" and her problems, and provided a perspective on single-motherhood and abandonment that very much intrigued me. And as I became more familiar with her and her life, that intrigue grew into real fondness. Following this woman, who has really become like a friend to me, has been one of the most enjoyable adventures of my writing career. Bobbie's off on vacation right now, but if the mood is right, she will definitely come back again. Marasmus, Sarah Segretti, Lara Means, Luperkal, and Cofax deserve massages from Paolo for the fantastic beta and commentary that got this story working. Also, there's a shout-out due to the incomparable Yes, Virginia gang, who encourage me when I'm down, tell me I can do it, and don't mind the incessant questions. I hope. Comments to epursemouve@goplay.com. And y'all take care now, y'hear?