Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 17 of 24 by Erynn and Sally

______

"a sharp blade lies
between our words"

~~Aonghas MacNeacail -- A Proper Schooling and other poems~~
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SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 2000
LONE GUNMEN HQ
MORNING

DEBORAH:

Everyone's headed for the TV room, and Ringo is following them. Shit. I was
hoping to get him alone. I really need to talk with him in private, but I
guess it's going to have to wait. I mean, I wanted to talk last night, but
after this morning's breakfast conversation, we really have things to
discuss. Frohike stops him though, stabbing his finger into Ringo's sternum.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demands.

"Uh, sitting down like everyone else?" Ringo's eyeballing him as if the
little man is nuts. I'm not convinced he isn't. If these people appeared in
my emergency room, they'd be labeled 'TFU,' which is medicalese for 'totally
fucked up.' And you thought the terminology was inaccessible.

"Wrong, Blonde Boy. You've got dish detail. Hop to it."

"Wha... like, right now?" Ringo looks despondent. "It's not like they're
gonna go anywhere on their own."

"My point exactly," Frohike asserts, as he takes off to join the others.
"Now get moving."

"C'mon, Ringo," I take his arm. "I'll help you out." Secretly, I'm relieved
that Frohike insisted the dishes be done, and that Ringo do it, but it also
makes me wonder if the little man caught my comment about needing to talk to
him, alone. Somehow I doubt these guys miss much.

Ringo brightens a little when I indicate that I'm not going to leave him
alone with only the breakfast dishes for company. "You don't mind? You sure?
I mean, you're kind of a guest..."

Oh, I went way beyond 'guest' when I handed over my passwords last night.
"C'mon, boy. Let's do it." This is all so confusing. After seeing what I saw
last night, I confess that I'm extremely uneasy about what it is Ringo and
his pals really do. The things they discuss and do sound dangerous -- more
dangerous than I'm accustomed to. Not that life as a trauma physician is
calm and quiet. You've got to love the adrenaline, and I do, which is why,
to a certain extent, I understand why Ringo does what he does. There's a
serious rush in being pushed to the edge and coming back. The problem is
coming back. Sometimes patients die. Apparently, in his line of work people
die too, from what they tell me. I haven't seen it yet, and at first I
thought they were exaggerating, but after seeing the data from Pinck last
night... all I can say is, I'll never be able to look at Pinck's products
with quite the same set of eyes. All the times I've prescribed their
antibiotics for patients; I'm starting to wonder, what was really in there?
I haven't heard anything negative about them, other than from a patient who
didn't inform us that he had a penicillin allergy (he recovered: one of my
better saves, thank you very much), but I'm not as at ease as I used to be
and that annoys me. It's going to be harder to do my job, having to think
about all this.

Ringo washes, I rinse and dry. "You're awful quiet," he says gently to me.
It's not a reprimand, not a judgment. Simply a statement of fact.

"I guess I have a lot on my mind. Sorry."

"You gonna tell me about it?" He looks kind of wary, as if he's afraid I'm
going to say 'sayonara, baby.' Bet he's heard that before.

Say goodbye to the best man I've ever met in my life? You have got to be
kidding. Ringo is... incredible. He's sweet and funny and vulnerable and
tough, breathtakingly intelligent, quick and witty, tender as a kitten, and
in bed, let's just say, you'd be envious. And as for taking a swim in deep
waters, well, I do that on a daily basis. I have a job where I'm constantly
pushed to the limit, and I derive a lot of satisfaction from being shoved
against the wall and doing the job. Ringo understands that. Not many men do.
"Ringo, don't take this the wrong way. I respect what you do. I think it's
important, and if this stuff is all in fact true -- and I believe it is --
then people have to know about it. But the one thing I won't jeopardize is
my medical license. I've worked my ass off the last seven years to get to
where I am. I'm really nervous about the passwords..."

He places a wet, soapy hand on my shoulder. "Relax, babe. Whole point of
what I did was so that nobody'd ever trace you to us. Not online, anyway.
Listen, you think I wanna destroy your career? No way. Hey, I may need your
services again someday." I giggle. He looks so sweet, so pleading, so
innocent. Light eyes begging me, please don't bail on me. "Y'know, babe," he
goes on, brushing his baby fine hair against me, "I think what you really
gotta think about is something else. I mean, we wouldn't ever do anything to
make you not be able to be a doctor. I know that's real important to you."

"Well, it's only the focus of my entire existence, and will be for at least
the next five years."

"Five years?" He blinks at me.

"Hey, you didn't think surgical fellowship was an overnight sensation, did
you?"

"Well, uh, no. Guess I didn't know how long it really takes, that's all." I
hope he's not thinking 'why am I bothering?' "Deb, listen to me, babe." He
wipes his hands off and sets them on my shoulders, drawing me close to him.
I can already feel my hormones racing. We're supposed to go back to a
roomful of people after this?

"I'm listening," I purr against his shoulder. God, he's delicious. He's got
amazingly soft skin and the most beautiful shoulders I've ever come across.
I'm seeing him under that T-shirt even now.

"It's not your license you gotta worry about. It's about... Deb, you got any
idea what kind of risk Nicole like put herself at in all this?"

"I suspect that she'll be fired, at the very least."

"Listen, she only gets fired, it's gonna be her lucky day. I mean, she could
be in real danger. She could get killed. And maybe Sari, too. This is DoD
stuff, and they don't play clean."

"But I really didn't have anything to do with this."

"Yeah, but... you're my girl, and that's enough for them."

"Who's 'them'?"

Frohike shouts from the other room. "Will you two finish getting your rocks
off and get out here already?"

I lean over to kiss him. "We'll talk more later." For now, I've gotten the
reassurance I needed. If I could only get the other things I need from him
right now...

LONE GUNMEN HQ
MID AFTERNOON

FROHIKE:

Nicole, Deborah and the divine Agent Scully spent the rest of the morning
going over Nicole's documents and Mulder's files from Andover, while Devi
and Mulder discussed the foreign implications of what we've discovered. I've
got to say that Devi is an incredibly astute observer. Despite the vast
personality differences, she's got a mind like Byers', which means she
doesn't miss a trick. After listening to her and Mulder going over
everything she saw and heard last night, the two have assembled information
on exactly who we're dealing with. The Indonesian trade rep was their World
Trade Organization representative, and we know who the Pinck rep is as well.

Mulder's gone off to do some funky poaching, to see if he can turn up any
documents in the local WTO offices. Right now, they're likely to have less
security than Pinck's business office here in DC. The divine Agent Scully
has also gone, to start work on the sample analysis. Devi and Sari are off
talking quietly while the boys and I are supposedly discussing our next move
with Black Widow. Deborah and Nicole are listening, and Langly's wrapped
around his chickadee like mummy bandages. They're practically humping in
public, and here we are, supposedly trying to work. "Would you two lay off
for a whole ten minutes?" I snap at them. Byers chuckles but continues with
his suggestions. I don't care what they do on Langly's time, but we've got
some serious work to do here. I'm scribbling notes as Byers talks about the
strategy for our next run.

"Hey, Doohickey, get out of my face. I can snuggle with my sweetie and still
listen to you and Byers spill your brains on the table." He gives me the
finger behind Deborah's back. One of these days I'm gonna smack some respect
into that boy.

"Not you too!" Sari yelps from the TV room. Wonder what the hell that's
about? "I *swear,* Magpie, if anyone else says that, I'm going to rip their
fucking lips off and feed 'em to them!" Devi is laughing hysterically. "You
*know* that's not what's going on, so why do you keep getting in my face
about it?" Her voice is much quieter, but they both have our attention. Her
sister continues to giggle.

"But you have to admit, John *is* a cutie, and I know you really like him."
Byers blushes purple. He starts to say something, but Langly and I both grab
him, and I slap a hand over his mouth. Even Nicole and Deborah are listening
with vague amusement. I've gotta hear the rest of this.

"Of course I like him; he's a great guy, but just because he's hot doesn't
mean I have plans to sleep with him. Damn it, Devi, I only just *met* him a
month ago." She's hissing now, trying to keep her voice down. "His friends
have been trying to toss us into bed together since we met. I damn well
don't need it from you. You're supposed to back me up, remember?"

"Well yeah, but he really seems like a sweet, decent guy." Devi's voice is
amused.

"That's what you said about Barry, too, at first. He fooled both of us,
didn't he?" Sari's angry, defensive, and even sounds frightened. "And don't
you think it's a little soon for me to be chasing a guy around? I think even
you'd appreciate that I need a little time to get my head straight after
five years having to dodge that violent bastard. I don't want a lover right
now! And it isn't like John's not in the same boat. After what happened with
him and Susanne..." I really don't think we should be hearing to this. Byers
is about to explode, and Nicole moves for the TV room.

"Sari, hon, I think you should be aware that we've heard some of that in
here." She's standing in the doorway, looking in at Sari and Devi.

"WHAT?!?!" Sari runs from the room, avoiding everyone, and locks herself
into Byers' bedroom. He looks like he wants to run, too, and he dashes into
the kitchen. I think he would have headed for his room, but Sari's in there,
and I don't know if they want to face each other right now. Devi tries to
follow her, but Sari shrieks something through the door at her in a language
I don't understand. Shit, shit, shit. What the hell have we done? I doubt
I'll be teasing Byers about Sari again anytime soon. It's going to take more
than a bit of apology to set this one right. Hoo boy. Who the hell is going
to talk to Byers? Or Sari?

Devi makes the attempt, and spends at least half an hour trying to talk to
her sister, but Sari's only response is to scream at her, and not a word of
it's in English. "What's she saying?" I ask, fairly certain that it's
obscene.

Devi snorts in disgust. "She's saying I'd drop my panties in public and
service mongrel dogs and stray camels," she replies, "but that's pretty mild
when she's as angry as this. She's got some wild parentage insults, but she
can't use 'em on me because we're sisters. Over the years, she's called me a
lot of things that would've made Shakespeare fall over in a dead faint."
That's mild? Jesus. I'd never have figured Sari to be one to swear worse
than a sailor. Then again, she's a poet.

"Me and Deb, um, we're gonna catch a flick." Langly is grabbing for his
jacket. Figures that he'd bail on me at a time like this. Then again, maybe
it's not the stupidest thing he could do. Langly has a unique talent for
making a bad situation worse, and that's not what we need right now.

"Fine." Yeah, they're really gonna watch a movie. They may go, but I suspect
if I grill them on it later, they won't have the slightest clue as to what
the title was, let alone the plot, assuming it had one; with Langly, that's
a long shot.

Nicole turns to Deborah. "Thanks so much for fixing up Bootsie. You can't
even tell where he was opened. You keep that up, you're gonna be a great
surgeon." Deborah blushes slightly, but accepts the compliment without
protest. It was rather interesting watching her suturing the toy. I hope
she's around if I ever need stitches again.

Devi keeps at her sister for another ten minutes or so, with Sari's
responses apparently becoming much more colorful. Finally, having been
unsuccessful in placating her older sister, she wrings her hands and faces
Nicole. "Got all your things together?" Devi asks her, trying downplay the
strain that arguing with her sister has brought.

"Yeah, I'm set," Nicole walks over and picks up her small travel bag.

"Thank you, Miss Devi," I say to Sari's sister. "We appreciate your help.
Guess I'm a little surprised to see you and your sister get into it,
though."

She laughs that inimitable laugh. "Are you kidding? You think this is the
first time Sari and I have gotten into it? Guess again." She pats me on the
shoulder. "Don't worry. She'll cool down. Eventually." I'm hoping that
'eventually' is sometime before we have to get Byers to bed. He's got a
doctor's appointment tomorrow, and with luck, he'll be able to do more
visual work. The proviso is getting him to bed at a reasonable hour. His
current track record isn't encouraging.

I guess I overestimated how much jibing Byers could take about Sari.
Normally, he's game and knows that our ribbing is just the guy way of
demonstrating affection, but it's obviously not how he interpreted it this
time. I wonder how much the late nights and the tension are adding to his
touchy state. Or maybe we just hit too close to a nerve. I enter the kitchen
with trepidation. Byers is staring at the sink, and even from here, I can
see the hard set of his jaw and the flush of rage masking his normally pale
features. He hasn't calmed at all. "Hey buddy," I say gently, trying to lay
a hand on his shoulder. He spins around hard. There's no mercy in his face
as he glares at me.

"Get away from me," he hisses, trying to keep his voice down, most likely so
as to not upset Sari, who's still ensconced in his bedroom.

"Listen, buddy, you know we weren't trying to..."

"I don't care what you think you were or weren't trying to do," he spits
back, "what you *did* was inexcusable." This is the angriest I've ever seen
him -- even more than when he grabbed Langly in January, just before we
dealt with Landau -- and it's frightening and disorienting. It's like the
floor's suddenly tilted under me. "I'd deck your sorry ass, Frohike, I
swear, but then Sari would think I'm like... like him. You're lucky I'm not,
or I'd break every damn bone in your body right now." Strong words from a
man whose most prominent traits have always been soft-spokenness and
rationality. Then again, it's usually the quiet ones that'll really snap on
you.

"Byers, listen, we really weren't trying to insinuate..."

He turns away. "Fuck you, Frohike. Fuck you with a chainsaw. Get out."

Oh, boy, do I need a drink.

LIMERICK TAVERN
EARLY AFTERNOON

I head over to the Limerick. Langly's at the movies, and Byers never comes
here of his own accord. "You're starting early today," Bernie, our resident
bartender, says to me as he pours me two fingers of J&B. I knock it back
without even taking a breath. "Rough day?" He passes me another.

"You could say that." I really don't feel like talking, but I suddenly feel
a large presence sitting next to me. The bar is only moderately crowded, and
I've got no idea why anyone would choose to be near me until I look up.

It's Walter Skinner. "Frohike, how's it going?"

"Don't ask. What brings you out here on a Sunday afternoon?"

He groans. "Don't ask." He's in his suit; I'm guessing he's been working.
Never mind that it's Sunday; the Bureau may sleep from time to time, but I
swear Walter Skinner never does. "Where're your partners in crime?"

"One's probably in the back row of the Googolplex, making out with his
chickadee, and the other one -- well, he probably wishes he was, but isn't
in the mood to have it brought to his attention."

He looks vaguely amused. "Which one's got the girl?"

"That'd be Blondie." That brings a chuckle to him. Either that, or it was
the two fingers of J&B that he managed to down even more rapidly than I did.
"And not his usual brand of heavy metal groupie wannabe either. He went for
quality merchandise this time. A physician."

He laughs again. "And they've been playing doctor."

"Not as much as they'd like. It's been kind of an intense weekend."

"Stayed too late at the Candy Apple?"

"I wish. No, it's been...well... maybe Agents Mulder and Scully better tell
you about it."

"Tell me about what?" He's not amused anymore. "If they're up to something
they're not supposed to be, so help me God, I'll have their asses impaled
and use them for lawn ornaments."

"They were... assisting us. And a friend of ours." I shouldn't have started
drinking so rapidly. I tend to shoot my mouth off in the early stages of
intoxication. "Seriously, it was all our idea, they had nothing to do with
it..."

"Let me get this straight. A friend of yours was in trouble, and you called
my agents. And you seriously thought they weren't going to jump on it?" He
studies me. "No, you knew they would, that's why you called them."

"We've come across something that... might become Bureau business."

"What kind of Bureau business?"

"You remember a case involving Pinck Pharmaceuticals, don't you?" I ask him
cautiously, hoping not to have to refresh his memory.

He snorts, startled, spraying the amber liquid across the bar. "Bernie," he
calls out, wiping his face. "We're taking the back booth. Just give us the
bottle, would ya?" Bernie is a good bartender. He knows when not to ask too
many questions and just slides the fifth of J&B across the bar, then we
depart for the booth in the rear. "Don't tell me you're involved with
Pinck." He's looking anything but amused. "And my agents."

"We are."

"What got you involved in this? Do you have any idea who you're dealing
with?"

"Excuse me, we do publish 'The Lone Gunman.' We know whose sandbox we've
dived into." Well, that sounded a little more confident than I actually
feel. Scotch can do wonderful things for one's bravado. "Actually, a friend
of ours" -- well, I hope she's still a friend; I don't know after today --
"was working on something. She's a Sierra Club lobbyist, and she discovered
some experimentation that Pinck's been conducting via someone inside. We
only called out Moose and Squirrel when it looked as if her contact had
gotten into trouble."

"Why didn't she call us? We have protection for whistleblowers -- if in fact
what you're telling me is true." Walter 's a friend, but he's also a
skeptic. Well, I can understand that.

"It's... more complicated than that. It seems that Pinck has gone and hired
Black Widow ..."

"Black Widow? As in the hacker?" His eyebrows shoot up into his bald head.
I'm happy to say that I'm still nowhere near as bald as he is. He pulls off
his glasses and puts his hand over his eyes. "Pinck's hired him? To do
what?"

"To silence their detractors. A month or so back, Byers did some consulting
for the lobbyist. Her system had been hacked, her personal system. You
remember that mess with Barry Guertzen?" He nods. "The lobbyist, our friend,
is his ex. So anyway, on Thursday, Sierra's computers were hit. Langly and I
went in to do some cleanup work on their system and install some firewalls."

"Can you prove this connection?" he demands.

"I think so. We're trying to get a fix on who Black Widow is, where he -- or
she -- is located."

He rolls his eyes, then leans back into the booth. "And I thought my biggest
problem was what to do with my beach house." He takes another glass of
Scotch, this time filling it to the rim. "The Bureau's been trying to nail
Black Widow for years. If you can prove he's connected with Pinck, that just
gives us more ammunition for prosecution. The real trick is finding him."

"Well, that's what we're trying to do."

He shakes his head. "Bernie?" he calls over to the bar. "Bring us another
one. And keep it coming."

End part 17


Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 18 of 24 by Erynn and Sally
______

"You tilt your head, laughing,
as if, 'I know the trick you're hatching,
but go ahead.'"

~~Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks -- The Essential Rumi ~~
______

SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 2000
LONE GUNMEN HQ
EARLY AFTERNOON

BYERS:

I can't believe what just happened here. Thank god everyone's gone now --
except Sari, who has rather inconveniently locked herself into my room. Why
couldn't she have used Frohike's? Right, I forgot; she has standards. There
will be revenge against my so-called 'friends,' I just don't know what it
will be yet. A slow, painful death is too good for them. At the moment,
though, I have to try to find something to say to Sari. Although we've
discussed the subject of Langly and Frohike's misapprehensions about our
friendship, and Sari's told them both point blank that another harassing
incident would result in the ripping of a matched set of new assholes, they
were unwittingly aided and abetted in their immaturity by Sari's own sister.
While Sari and I know where we stand, neither of us had intended to have it
bared to the world in quite that way. I don't think I've ever been angrier
with the guys in the entire time I've been with them. I had nearly an hour
to try to collect myself before Frohike came in to make his lame attempt at
apology, but the time had hardly made a dent, and I honestly did have a
strong urge to break the bastard's bones.

In answer to my quiet knock on the bedroom door, Sari shouts something in
the same language she was bellowing at her sister. "Sari, they're gone. It's
just me."

"Why didn't you do anything to warn me? Are you really just as much of a
shit as your two roomies, John?" Ouch.

"I tried to warn you. As soon as I figured out what was happening, I tried
to say something, but Langly and Frohike grabbed me, and Frohike practically
suffocated me to keep me from making noise."

"What, and you didn't bite his fingers off?"

"I tried that, too. He got me before I got my mouth open." I hear a click as
the door unlocks and Sari's face appears. Her eyes are red and her face is
wet from crying. I see the Cardinal poking his nose warily out from under my
bed.

"I don't think I've ever been quite so humiliated in my life," she says.

"It was no tiptoe through the tulips for me, either."

"So what are we going to do for our revenge?" A wily grin splits her tear
stained face, and her eyes narrow. I never suspected that she might have an
evil streak like this in her, but I find it quite delightful. She always
seems capable of surprising me, and I find it quite intriguing.

I have to pause to think for a moment. "I'm not sure yet, but we'll think of
something."

She says, "come with me, I think I've got an idea."

Half an hour later, the extent of her capacity for diabolic childishness,
and my own, has been deeply explored. Langly's bed has been short-sheeted,
the lower half of the new sheets coated in chocolate pudding, and the entire
interior liberally spread with breadcrumbs. Crinkly tinfoil has been slid
into the pillowcases. Every light bulb in the room has been unscrewed enough
that it flickers in an annoying, headache inducing fashion. I've also hidden
a microphone in his room that feeds into a tape recorder in mine so that
Sari and I can enjoy the results of our plotting when he and Deborah attempt
to get into bed. I haven't had this much fun in a long time.

For Frohike, we've hidden every single bit of medication that might possibly
reduce the pain of the hangover he's certain to have later. I plan on
subjecting him to the hand in a bucket of warm water treatment once he's
passed out. Sari suggested flossing him into bed, but that really only works
successfully on someone inhabiting the top rack on a bunk bed, so we've
passed on that idea. But we're just about done hauling his entire collection
of blue videos out to the back of her car, where they'll make a trip to a
storage unit for most of the next week. I never realized just how many of
the damned things he has around the place. They weren't just in his locked
video cabinets. I found a dozen or so more in his closet, and four or five
under his bed and in the drawer next to it. We didn't find any dropped under
the furniture in the TV room, or anywhere else in the office -- although we
did find one surveillance video that turned out to be some foggy shower
footage of Agent Scully dated about two weeks ago buried in the back of the
safe. That one will get couriered to her tomorrow morning with a note
telling her that Frohike had hidden it but I thought it would be safer in
her hands. I had no idea he'd bugged her shower. That's really low, even for
him. And the best part of it is, I can sit back and watch Scully deal with
my mutant roommate, saving me an immense amount of effort.

Were both giggling like little kids by the time we've hauled the last load
of tapes out to Sari's car. "I think this calls for a late lunch, once we've
dropped off the tapes and the Cardinal," she suggests.

"I agree. Thai?" I'm in the mood for something Asian. She smiles broadly at
me, the stresses from this morning set aside for the moment. We'll worry
about Pinck and Black Widow later.

"You're a man after my own heart, John. I could really use something spicy
right about now. I'm thinking a nice, rich red coconut basil curry and some
mushroom tom ka would hit the spot. And I know the perfect vegetarian Thai
place, too." Sunglasses on to ease the bright April sunlight, I buckle into
the passenger seat and we're off for a peaceful afternoon of good food and
pleasant conversation. Five star spicing, here we come.

LONE GUNMEN HQ
EARLY EVENING

LANGLY:

We just got back from pigging out at Victoria Station. I'm glad Deb's a
carnivore. Never could understand women who eat a lettuce leaf and a cracker
and call it dinner. And no wimpy white wine spritzers for my girl either. We
put away about a six-pack of draft Anchor Steam, the best beer in the known
universe. The food was great, and she looks real hot licking the barbecue
sauce off her fingers. Makes me wonder if I should grab some of that
chocolate pudding from the fridge and see if she'd lick it off me. Byers and
Sari are in the TV room at the moment. I'm kinda nervous about seeing them,
but might as well get it over with. I'm prepared to get my head bit off.
"He's kinda touchy sometimes," I warn Deb, making what has to be the
understatement of the year, "but he's probably cooled down by now." I hope,
but I'm doubtful. Byers takes a long time to get pissed, but once he's
there, bringing him back to reality takes twice as long, so I'm kind of
shocked when I stick my head in and they both greet me and Deb pretty
pleasantly. 

"How was the movie, guys?" Byers asks us. Oh yeah, that's right. We went to
a movie.

"Quick, what'd we see?" I whisper to Deb.

"Uh... I think it was 'Mission to Mars,'" Deb says, looking kind of
embarrassed. So what. We had a lot more fun doing our own x-rated live
private video in the back row. God, Deb has such a hot tongue... I never got
treated like that in a theater before. She said she'd never done it there
either, but hey, sometimes there's nothing like the first time.

Sari smiles at us. "Did you like it?" Like she cares; not like she'd ever
watch that kind of movie anyway. Right now she's watching this French movie.
Byers is sitting next to her -- got his eyes closed 'cause he's not supposed
to watch yet, but it doesn't matter, he speaks French. She's describing the
action to him as we talk. I mean, I got no problem with foreign films,
really. Some people say they never get it, but I mean, look at Godzilla:
'large reptile stomps metropolitan Tokyo.' Hardly inaccessible. Problem with
the movies Byers watches is, nobody ever looks like they're having any fun.

"Uh... yeah," Deb says. Poor sweetie. She's a doctor, yeah, but underneath
it all, she's a nice Catholic school girl from New Orleans. They say that
Catholic girls are hot, and I think she proved that beyond any shadow of a
doubt this afternoon.

"Um, we're like kinda tired," I tell Byers, and that is, believe it or not,
the truth. I haven't gotten much sleep lately, and Deb's still got catching
up to do. Our massive early dinner did make us kind of drowsy, but we were
thinking we need to work off some of those calories, and we've got an
exercise program all planned. When the waiter asked if we wanted dessert,
Deb just licked her lips and said we'd have it at home. I told him to just
bring the check, stat. "Like, where's Doohickey?"

"He said something about needing a drink," Byers says, leaning back into
Sari and resting his head on her shoulder. She puts her arm around him so
they can both get comfy. I'm not gonna say anything, I'm really not. I mean,
Sari's done this with me, for Christ's sake. Still, she did say Byers was
hot, and if he missed that, I swear his nads have shriveled up and died.
Knowing that Frohike's most likely off in some bar doesn't make me feel all
warm and fuzzy, though. He's supposed to be at Sierra tomorrow morning to
finish up our work there, and if he thinks I'm getting out of my warm, comfy
bed while he lies around on his hung over ass, he's got another thing
coming.

"C'mon, honey," Deb says in that delightful N'Awlins drawl. God, I love her
accent, and it really comes out after she's got a few beers in her. Just
that accent by itself could get me hot, if other things weren't getting a
head start on the process already. "Let's go lie down." And that's just the
start of things, isn't it? We lock the door behind us and start ripping off
each other's clothes. Well, okay, maybe not ripping -- Deb knows how I feel
about my Ramones T-shirt. And why would I ruin hers that says, 'Worship Me
for the Goddess I Am'? I do, after all. Especially what's underneath the
T-shirt. Oh baby, she has gorgeous tits, and she kisses so great I just
can't wait to crawl in between the sheets with her. Deb says she loves my
sheets. Gotta remember to thank Sari for that, she really knew what she was
doing. We pull back the covers and jump in bed, only to discover that our
feet won't go all the way down. This might not be a problem if you're a
midget like Frohike, but Deb and me, we're both like six feet tall, and this
means we have a problem. And my soft sheets feel... scratchy. Ugh. There's
bread crumbs in here.

"Ringo honey, there's... something... slimy down here." Deb pulls back her
foot and it's covered with this brown stuff. I immediately recognize it as
the chocolate pudding I thought about smearing on myself and having her eat
off me, but the pudding is stuck full of crumbs. Eew. Suddenly the idea of
sex with pudding has a lot less appeal. We both let out a shriek when we
realize why Byers and Sari were so damn nice to us. The bastards were busy
getting even with us the whole time. I never shoulda left them alone. Nah.
Then I wouldn't have gotten such a great blow at the movie. I guess we're
gonna have a romantic trip to the laundromat. I really know how to show a
girl a good time, don't I?

SARI:

As soon as Ringo and Deborah were safely ensconced in his bedroom, John and
I stopped our movie and snuck into John's room, where he'd set up a tape
recorder to catch the play-by-play of them discovering our dastardly but oh
so delicious deeds of this afternoon. I feel like I should be doing a
Snidely Whiplash mustache twirl and a 'bwahahaha.' As we'd hoped, there's a
great deal of shrieking and indications of gross-out galore. Best of all,
before they discovered all this, they were buck naked, thus making the
results all the more delightful for us. We can barely contain ourselves as
we listen to the audio feed of the two of them cursing, struggling to remove
the bedding, and put on some clothes. John is laughing so hard, I'm afraid
he'll burst a blood vessel in his eye. Ringo and Deborah may want to kill us
in cold blood, but the way we feel right now, it would be worth it.

"Chocolate pudding: $3.49," John begins, struggling to speak as he's
laughing. "Loaf of bread: $2.39. Roll of aluminum foil: $3.79. Listening t0
your roommate freak after you've decimated his bed: priceless." I'm laughing
just as hard as he is. It sounds as if they've gotten the bed stripped and
themselves covered. They'd been planning for just the opposite, which makes
it all the more delightful. "Okay, they're coming out," John whispers as he
turns off the tape. He's wiping his eyes and trying to catch his breath, as
am I. If they see us like this, they'll know something's up. We head quickly
back to the TV room on little Cardinal Richelieu feet, just in time for the
two of them to reappear with two trash bags, no doubt containing the fouled
bedding. I notice that Ringo's T-shirt is inside out, but I'll skip the
commentary for now.

He stands there staring at us, scowling, but his expression mellows. They've
both left little squishy pudding footprints on the floor. Contrite, Ringo
speaks. "Okay, okay, we deserved that. We gotta go to the laundromat, I
think that's punishment enough." Deborah says nothing but looks repentant as
well. While she was not a direct offender, she was certainly an accomplice,
and from what John indicated, she was enjoying my not-so-private exchange
with the Magpie.

"Langly, you should really take care of those messy footprints," John says,
pointing at the shiny spots on the tile of the office space. Ringo groans
but complies. Before they take off, Deb actually apologizes, and I assure
her that there are no hard feelings. No, definitely no hard feelings. But as
soon as they're out the door, there's plenty of hard laughter. And the fun
has barely begun -- Dana won't get Mel's video until tomorrow morning.

DEBORAH:

Okay, I hadn't exactly planned on spending tonight in a coin op laundry, but
we pretty much had the place to ourselves, which meant our PDAs didn't have
to be too terribly restrained. We did stay dressed, but that's about it. I
never had so much fun washing clothes. Once the sheets are all fluffy and
clean again, we head on back to Ringo's. Sari's gone when we get there; I'm
sure she's got a long day ahead of her tomorrow. I know that drill. I'm
enjoying my vacation to an obscene degree this week. Ringo is contributing
much to the obscene part. His practical-joking roomie Byers is still up,
listening to Glenn Miller and lying on the sofa when we come in. He looks a
bit tired. This doesn't surprise me. It takes lots of energy to plan and
execute a good practical joke. I should know. "Don't you have a follow up
appointment tomorrow morning?" I ask him.

"Yes, I do. Langly, my appointment's at 11."

"Jesus, I gotta get up at the crack of 10? You got no heart, Byers." I
giggle. I offer to do his eye medications, and having done that, I send him
off to bed, so that I can send my love and I off to bed, too. This time,
it's absolutely delicious to climb in between the sheets, still slightly
warm from the dryer, and snuggle up next to my sweetie's bare flesh. He's so
warm, so wonderful. I've only been here three nights, and I'm absolutely
addicted to sharing a bed with him. I think he's feeling the same way, if
his actions are any indication.

"At least now the bed feels good," I whisper, blowing in his ear.

"Well, we're probably lucky that's all they did," Ringo says dreamily. "They
coulda been a lot worse."

"Oh, like how?"

"Well, they coulda put hidden video or audio in here... wait a minute." He
leaps out of the bed, still naked, and grabs for a device on top of the
bureau. He sweeps it over the room, and when he puts it up to the head of
the bed, it beeps. He pries something small from behind the headboard,
frowns, motions to me that he'll be right back, pulls on his sweat pants,
and runs out of the room. Oh no, what's he going to do now?

"BYERS!!!"

end part 18

Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 19 of 24 by Erynn and Sally

______

"The jaws of Leviathan
Were closing upon me."

~~Czeslaw Miloz -- Bells in Winter~~
______

MONDAY, APRIL 5, 2000
SIERRA CLUB OFFICES
8:30 AM

SARI:

"Your guys are weird, but they've been everything you promised," Rob says.
I'm sitting in his office, after the morning briefing. Most of the systems
are back up and running, and I'm sure Ringo will have the rest taken care of
by mid-afternoon. I saw him for a few minutes in the corridor when I came in
half an hour ago, eyes half closed, his nose nearly buried in a latte cup. I
was almost afraid he was going to drown himself, but then he burnt his nose
and yelped. I imagine John has removed the bucket from Mel's room by now. I
only wish I could be there to see Dana light into him after she gets the
tape, but I have a meeting tonight.

"Thanks Rob. I knew they'd come through for you. But that wasn't what I
wanted to talk to you about." I sigh and lean back into the chair.

"You aren't here to gloat?" He shakes his head. "So now what is it?"

I'm tapping my pen nervously on my cast, which is not normally my habit.
Then again, I don't feel like anything's normal right now. After a restless
moment, I pull one of John's bug detectors out of my backpack and wave it at
Rob. "Do you mind?" I ask.

He just looks confused. "What the hell is that?" I start scanning the room
with it, and as I pass it over his desk, I get a chirp. He starts to say
something but I shake my head at him and he remains silent. I start clearing
things away from the beep, but there's nothing. We check under his desk pad,
and still nothing. I point to his drawer, and he nods and begins checking
the contents. Nothing there, until I reach into the drawer and feel the
surface under the top of the desk. Something hard meets my fingertips, and I
pull it carefully off the wood. We both look at the tiny chip and
microphone. Rob, a handsome, very dark African-American man, goes pale and
his eyes widen in disbelief.

"If you'll excuse me a moment," I say, and motion for him to follow me out
of his office. I drop the bug into his half-full coffee mug as we go. "Let's
take a coffee break."

"I think I need one," he says quietly. "Rebecca, I'll be at a meeting, no
interruptions." She nods and continues talking on the phone, making an
appointment for Rob this afternoon.

Ten minutes later, we're safely several blocks away from the office in a
nondescript mom and pop diner. It's got a few tables of late breakfasters,
but enough privacy that our discussion won't be notable. We get a couple of
glares from rednecks, but it's DC, and not really all that far from goober
central. We ignore them. "You want to tell me what's going on, Sari?" He's
not that queasy shade of grey anymore, but he's still sweating a little. To
tell the truth, so am I.

"Remember how I was telling you about Pinck, and that hacker?" He nods.
"Well, over the weekend, I got confirmation that the office crash was
definitely caused by the same guy. My source inside Pinck was nearly
kidnapped or even killed Saturday out in Topeka, and her place was trashed.
But we found out what's really going on with that Pinck project we've been
following."

"And that is?" He looks like he doesn't really want to know. I don't blame
him.

I lower my voice to a whisper and lean in close. I don't want this overheard
by anyone. "It's called Wildfire -- DoD, biological warfare. Third-world
genocide planned as their 'field test' -- some speck of an island in
Indonesia inhabited largely by one indigenous tribe. It's some kind of
spliced and diced E. coli with a very toxic rider, designed to get into the
groundwater and cause, at the very least, severe neurological damage,
miscarriages and birth defects in an entire population. You bring in your
military with lots of bottled water after a few weeks, and you're home free
in a demoralized and very pacified enemy territory."

Rob shudders and looks nervously over his shoulder. "You have proof?"

"Yeah. We've got a sample of the stuff being analyzed by the FBI right now.
Got papers, statistics, documentation on the connections between the DoD,
Pinck and the Indonesian WTO rep, and I have my source ready to spill
everything."

Rob takes a deep breath. "I think the best thing for you to do is to make
yourself invisible for a couple days. I'll have Rebecca cancel your
appointments and put in for some vacation for you. I might be able to
retroactively get you paid administrative leave, but until this comes out, I
don't want any more suspicious talk than necessary. I'll arrange a press
conference for you Thursday. I'd do it sooner if I could, but I don't think
I can swing it that fast. If anyone asks, you've had a family emergency, and
that's the line I want you using until the conference. In the meantime, if
you can get out of town, that would probably be a good thing. Call me
Wednesday night, at my home number, and I'll fill you in on the details. And
no, I don't want to know where you're going. If I don't know, no one can
beat it out of me, can they?"

"Out of town? Are you sure that's necessary? Why would they hurt you?" He
looks at me as though I've lost my mind.

"Hey, you're the one with the bug detector. And didn't you just say somebody
tried to kill your source?" He has a point.

"Well, yeah."

"And didn't this hacker hit your personal system first?"

"Yes, he did."

"Then he knows where you live. They might even have somebody watching you
right now."

The thought sends a chill up my spine. "I suppose that's possible..."

He's going all pale again. "Go home right now. Pack a bag. Get yourself out
of here. I can't help but feeling that you're all but radioactive right now.
No offense, Sari, but I don't want to glow in the dark." He gets up and
leaves in a hurry. I pay the tab and head back to the Sierra parking lot to
get my car.

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
NOON

BYERS:

Sari came by unexpectedly and picked me up for my appointment, saving me
from having to wake Frohike. It's just as well, I wasn't in the mood to live
that dangerously this morning; my vision is probably clearer than his at
this point. She told me about Rob Harris' reaction, and I had to tell her
that I agreed. Laying low makes a lot of sense to me, but we'll discuss it
later. She's out in the waiting room at the moment, while I'm talking to my
doctor.

"Well, Mr. Byers, it looks like for the most part you've been doing what
you're supposed to. There are no organic problems developing, and you're
recovering. Now, I still don't think you've been getting enough rest, but
your eye has finally improved enough to release you for limited amounts of
reading large type, and for watching movies and television, although you
shouldn't do it on a screen smaller than 19 inches for a while yet." I can't
help but smile at that. It means I'll be able to help out with the Black
Widow hack we have planned for tonight. "You'll need to continue your
medications routine for the next two weeks, and make an effort to get more
rest, but you're well enough that I suspect I'll be able to release you for
normal reading at the end of that time. If you're good, you'll be able to
drive then as well, although I might restrict you from that for an extra
week if you don't pay attention and follow my advice. Get more sleep."

"Yes, Doctor Perez. Absolutely. Large type only. Large screens. More sleep."
I nod vigorously. As long as he doesn't change his mind before I leave the
room, everything's fine. My release for large type and video is only two
weeks later than originally projected, and it probably was delayed by my
tendency to stay up late. I can't help it, there's always something that
needs doing.

"Now go be a good patient for once, and come back on the 20th. Tom will make
a new appointment for you. And get more sleep!" I'm waved back out into the
main clinic, where I have to talk to Tom, the clerk at the counter. I can
feel Sari come up behind me.

"How'd it go?" she asks as I make my appointment.

"Great!" I tell her. She smiles and gives me a hug. I can't possibly express
how wonderful I feel right now.

"It's about time. Wanna celebrate?" Sari has a wicked glint in her eye.

"What did you have in mind?"

"There's a matinee of 'The Maltese Falcon' at the Replay," she offers. I
love that movie. Haven't seen it recently either. Hell, I haven't seen
anything recently despite the fact that my vision's been getting less
blurry. The Replay's a tiny revival house, and a fairly nice place.

"Now that sounds like fun." Ah, stale movie theatre popcorn. Only fifty
seats. I can't wait.

LONE GUNMEN HQ
EVENING

LANGLY:

I hope Frohike didn't roll over and croak from getting so plastered last
night, because I wanna kill him. The stupid bastard knew I wanted to stay
home so I could be with my sweetie, so what does he do? Goes out and gets
himself totally liquored up. So what if he's got the hangover from hell?
It's the least he deserves. He owes me big for this one. I mean, I was the
one that had to get up at 6 and drag my ass on over to Sierra, when he was
supposed to do it. And I thought Byers was an asshole for needing me to get
up at 10. I shouldn't have hassled him. It's like, bad karma.

So instead of being home with Deb, having hot sex and checking things out
every once in a while to make sure Black Widow's not on our ass, I end up
hauling myself out of bed, leaving my sweetie there without me, and
listening to Frohike snoring his ass off in his room. Good thing he shut the
fucking door; everybody'd think it was an earthquake otherwise. And it
wasn't like there was anything cool to do at Sierra today. We're down to the
dirty work, the stupid stuff, and I think I've gotten the monkey boys
reasonably well educated on it. At least Jessie was civil to me. Kind of
surprising in view of the hangover she walked in with. I can tell what kind
of weekend she had. Sierra might have to call us in now and then, but I
think we're done here, and I handed the AP person our invoice and headed out
before it got totally dark. Personally, I'd rather have spent the day trying
to nail Black Widow. Frohike better have gotten his butt up at some
respectable hour and gotten on it, or I'm gonna kill him even deader.
"Honey, I'm home!" I call out like some sitcom dude when I get inside.

"She's not here," Frohike snarls at me. He's sitting at the computer, but
from the looks of it, he died and someone just propped him up.

"So like where the hell is she?" She didn't say anything when I left. Oh
man, I hope she didn't bail out on me.

"She left a note, said she was going over to GWU to meet with her advisor,"
he snaps. Okay, that's cool, I don't have to shoot him for giving me bad
news.

"So when's she coming back?"

"What, you think she left me details?"

What a dick. "Where's Byers? Thought he'd be back from the doctor's hours
ago."

"Do I look like I'm on Byers watch?"

"Y'know, Frohike, you shouldn't drink so much, it doesn't look good on you."

"Fuck you, punkass." I'd fire back on that one but the buzzer goes off, and
sure enough, my sweetie pie is standing there.

"Perfect timing, babe!" I sweep her into my arms and enjoy how she smells
and tastes with every ounce of my being. I wonder if she'd have a problem
with a little before-dinner snack.

"Can you two keep it decent?" God, he sounds like one of the nuns that used
to come around and stick a ruler between couples -- 'leave enough room for
the Holy Ghost.' Well, sorry, I'm not into threesomes. I'd say something,
but I'm too busy getting some tongue action from my girl. Sooner or later,
we gotta come up for air, though, so I ask her how it went over at GWU.
Deb's all excited. She says her advisor's sorta okay; he's kind of a dick
with the residents but he seems good with the patients, and that's what
really matters, she says. She can't wait to start. Mmm. I can't wait for her
to start, either. Says she checked out some apartments near the U, can't
believe what rents are around here.

"Now you know why we live here," I tell her. I'd tell her she could stay
here, but really, I don't know if Frohike or Byers could handle it. Or us.
I'm not sure we're like where we could live together right now. I'd like to,
but the thought kind of scares me. "So Frohike, what's for chow tonight?"

"Whatever you come up with." Ooh, we are hung over, aren't we? "If you think
I'm cooking..."

"Hey, I bailed your ass out by going to Sierra this morning, least you could
do is make us something to eat..."

"Ringo, take it easy, I picked us up a snack while I was on my way back."
She's got a paper bag from the 7-11, and in it she's got... Chocodiles. Oh,
God, I love this woman.

"Got something for me?" Frohike's trying to be cute with her, but failing
miserably. I glare at him. I think he flipped me off, but I'm too busy
ripping open my Chocodiles to notice much. Deb and me feed each other the
snacks. Chocodiles are this chocolate cake thingy, with chocolate frosting
and chocolate filling. Man, I love my theobromines, but not as much as my
girl, who looks so damn adorable licking the frosting off her fingers. Then
she grabs my hand and starts licking my fingers. Frohike makes this gagging
motion.

"Hey, we all have to look at you and you don't see us heaving," I say to him
through a mouthful of cake. I'm waiting for him to come back with what he
thinks is stinging repartee, or even bitch-slapping me, but we've got more
people straggling in: Byers and Sari. They look way too happy. Wonder what
*they* were doing since Byers left the doctor's. "Hey, like Sari, where were
you?" I ask her. "Didn't see you around after this morning."

"Langly, don't talk with your mouth full," Byers says. "Since I've been
officially released for TV and movie viewing and large type reading, we
celebrated with lunch and 'The Maltese Falcon.'" Okay, at least they went
for a cool flick. The Black Bird movie's a great one. Mary Astor was a big
girl, just like my Deb, and was she hot.

"How'd you get the day off?" I ask Sari, kind of mad that I had to be there
and she didn't. Before she answers though, the buzzer goes off again. What
is this, Grand Central? Gimme a frickin break. I check out the video. It's
our redheaded fibbie. "Hey Scully, whassup?"

"I need to have a few words with Frohike." Uh-oh -- wonder what this is
about. She doesn't sound happy. Scully stomps right past me, her heels
making little clacking noises on the floor. I still wonder how she runs in
those things. She's carrying a videotape in her hand, waving it at Fro.
Byers motions Sari, Deb and me to follow him into the kitchen. I mean, yeah,
she probably wants to talk to him alone, but no way are we gonna miss this.
She looks major pissed off.

"Frohike. Thank you for the present." Her voice gushes sarcasm. He looks
kind of puzzled at first, then like a little kid who got caught taking money
from Mom's wallet. "Now I'd like an explanation." Man, she sounds cold. If
words could freeze, Frohike'd be iced like that cave dude from the Alps.

"What videotape?" I whisper to Byers.

Byers gets this real malicious shit eating grin on his face. "It's a
videotape of Scully in the shower. Frohike took his 'surveillance' out of
bounds here, and we just felt she should know about it." He looks mighty
pleased with himself. "I had it couriered over to her this morning."

"Whoa, didn't know you had it in you, dude." Then again, this is the guy
that messed up my bed last night. Still, you compare what he did to Fro and
what he did to me... no comparison. I got off lucky.

"That is so tacky," Deb is narrowing her eyes and glaring. "I'd sit on him.
I'm big enough to hurt him that way."

"Yeah, but she's got a gun," I point out.

"Agent Scully..." we've got Frohike groveling. This is just too damn much
fun. "Please accept my apologies... I realize that I violated the bounds of
privacy and good taste."

"You did a lot more than that, Frohike." Oh, man, Scully is ready to pop.
You should never fuck with a redhead, especially not one who's armed. "What
you did was enough that I could report you to the authorities, were I so
inclined. Fortunately for you, I'm not."

"Agent Scully, I promise, I'll never do anything of the sort again," he's
pleading for his life now. He sounds about five. She has him by the collar,
nose to nose with him.

"Good, because if you do, you'll be peeing through a catheter, you drunk
little toad. Got that?"

He gets on his knees -- oh, this is so rich. We're loving it, and Byers and
Sari can barely keep it together. I wonder how much she had to do with all
this. It's always the quiet ones, man. They're trying not to laugh, but
these hissing noises keep coming out of them. "Scully, I deeply and truly
apologize from the bottom of my heart, and I promise that I will never, ever
violate your privacy again." Oh, like hell. He'll be back at it in a week,
just watch. Then again, maybe not. She's a pretty good shot. And those heels
could hurt if she decides a few well-placed kicks in the nads are what he
needs. Man, watching him grovel and beg, that's just wicked fun.

"I want every copy of this tape there is," Scully shouts at him.

"That's th.. the only copy." Poor Frohike. He totally deserves this, the
bastard. "I promise."

"That had better be true, or I will formally end all opportunities for you
to ever have a sex life again, real or imagined." She pockets the tape,
turns, and stomps toward the bathroom. Frohike comes out to the kitchen and
glares at us. I know he wants to kick Byers' ass big time, but he's got no
leg to stand on and he knows it, so he just settles for looking nasty. He
grabs a beer from the fridge. I get one for me and one for Deb, and ask Sari
and Byers if they want any, but they pass. Scully comes out a few minutes
later. She's looking a lot calmer than she was.

"So tell me what's going on, boys," she says, taking a seat at the table.
Frohike offers her a beer. He almost bows when he serves it to her.

"I was on line from about eleven on, trying to nail Black Widow, but every
time I'd get up close and personal, he'd slip down a hidey-hole somewhere."
Well, well, the bastard was doing some work today, will wonders never cease.
"Gotta say, he's got some slippery kung fu." Y'know, we could almost respect
Black Widow, if he didn't do such crappy shit. There's something to be said
for technique. Too bad he's on the wrong side, we could learn a lot from
each other. "And I was being pretty damn discreet about it."

"Uh-huh," Scully says acidly, and I almost spew my beer. Frohike's anything
but the soul of discretion, if that tape is any indication, but that's only
in real life; on line, he's like this total shadow warrior. Yeah, my kung fu
is the best, but even though I'd never admit it to Frohike, his is pretty
damn hot too.

"Sari, have you made your organization aware of these events?" Scully asks
her. Sari nods. She looks kinda scared. Deb looks at me kind of like, should
I be scared? I don't wanna answer that, so I just take her hand.

"Did you get back any test results on the Wildfire sample?" Byers asks her.
"Is it the real thing?"

"I have some preliminary results, and it's definitely a neurotoxin we're
looking at. Sari, I hope you and your friend are prepared to take some heat
on this. We'll protect you as much as possible, but it might be good if you
got out of the area for a while and didn't let your whereabouts be known. Is
Nicole still with Devi?"

"She is," Sari says. That puts her on Sri Lankan soil. Not that that would
protect her, but maybe the Marine guards they got outside the place might.
Those boys do not look friendly.

"So all that's left is to figure out who and where our hacker is," Scully
says.

"We're working on that," Frohike assures her. "Believe me, we want him,
too."

"Well, I want some dinner," Scully announces, which gets Frohike to slip
into his chef's hat and apron. Well, we couldn't get him to cook, but leave
it to the ravishing redhead to motivate him. "A little salmon en croute,
anyone?"

"I'll take that with one hacker to go," I say, heading for the office. Time
to kick some Black Widow butt.

End part 19

Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 20 of 24 by Erynn and Sally

______

"I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it."

~~ Seamus Heaney -- Opened Ground: Poems 1966-1996~~
______

MONDAY, APRIL 6, 2000
LONE GUNMEN HQ
LATE EVENING

FROHIKE:

Langly has become one with the machine. "I'm sorry, Deborah, he gets this
way." She's been sitting in the kitchen, talking with Sari, Scully and me,
while Langly chases Black Widow with the enthusiasm most small boys have for
chasing frogs. Unfortunately, a Black Widow is a lot more deadly than most
frogs. Byers, having been released for large-type reading, has plunged in
with equal enthusiasm, adjusting the font on his monitor. We keep reminding
him to rest his eyes and take breaks, but he's not listening. I hope this
doesn't set him back or damage his sight.

Deborah gives a quiet snort. "I'll just catch up on my journal reading. I'm
only six months behind, and I promised myself I'd catch at least one month
while I was here." Her slight blush suggests she hasn't read even one
publication. Well, this was supposed to be her vacation. The difference
between us is that she thinks time with Langly's a vacation, while for me,
vacation's time  away from him.

"Deborah's starting her trauma fellowship at GWU in June," I announce, as if
I were a proud father. Well, she's Langly's girlfriend, and I consider him
my boy, doesn't that give me some paterfamilias status?

"Congratulations. It's quite an honor to get such a fellowship," Scully says
to her, and since Scully's in the know, I think she deeply appreciates it.

"That's wonderful, Deborah." Sari is genuinely pleased for her, but also
concerned. Sari understands what being around us is about; Deborah does not.
Not yet, anyway. I share Sari's sentiments. Much as I'd like Deborah here to
keep Langly happy and off my back, I still worry.

"How did your boss react to your information, Sari?" Scully turns to her.

Sari shakes her head. "About as well as could be expected, Dana. You said
the lab has definitely determined Wildfire is neurotoxic, but have they
figured out what it is?"

"They need to run PCR on it for confirmation," Scully says. "Have you guys
contacted one of your lab friends about temporary storage, like you said you
would?"

"Yeah." I hand her a 3 by 5 card with information for a contact tomorrow
night. "Meet him here with it, according to these directions. We shouldn't
be seen with him. If the CDC and the military get hold of this, they'll bury
it forever. Probably us, too."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Scully says, and I feel a small glimmer
of hope. "If you can prove the Black Widow connection and get this guy
nailed, it's going to be a lot harder for them to fight back."

"Langly, watch it. You're pounding out a router," Byers warns him. A
favorite trick of hackers; not very subtle, but the damage is generally
invisible until after it's been completed, unless the hunted is at least as
clever as the hunter. This is not generally a problem; to borrow a phrase
from Yogi Bear, we are smarter than the average bear. Unfortunately, so is
Black Widow.

Langly groans, but he appreciates the finesse that Byers brings to the
process, so he complies, trying to tone down his approach and switch gears.
"I'm gonna hijack this bastard's software," Langly mutters. "He's never
gonna know what hit him. Damn, he's got one hell of a firewall in here.
Taking down the Wall in Berlin was easier." He's working frantically. They
say speed kills, but in trauma medicine and hacking, it's what saves your
butt.

"This should just fall away here," Byers looks confused. "He's got something
very intricate in here, a real spider web."

"Yeah, well, spider webs are just spider snot," Langly retorts, typing at
breakneck speed.

"Stay on it," Byers urges, "I've got your back."

"Sari, I really think you should get out of Dodge for a while," Scully
counsels her. "Is there anywhere you can go on short notice and not arouse
too much suspicion?"

Sari pauses to think, then sighs. "I could head for Portland, but if Black
Widow knows who and where I am, he's going to know about my place near
Troutdale, too. I'm not quite sure where I'll go, to tell you the truth."

The salmon is nearly done and is accompanied by basmati rice and foot long
string beans in a balsamic vinegar marinade. We're truly continental
tonight, or at least eclectic. Deborah inhales deeply and says, "Frohike,
that smells wonderful." There's a commotion in the office, and she excuses
herself, heading for Langly. She stands behind him, laying a hand on his
shoulder. He's barely aware of her right now, he's so intent on the chase.
It sounds like they're getting close.

"Be careful, boys," I warn them.

"Oh man, I am so close I can taste his blood." Langly licks his lips. Byers
is covering Ringo's ass, but looks much more uneasy than our gangly blonde
brother in arms. Byers is the reason we don't fall off more cliffs. I hope
Langly's paying attention. "Shit, he's getting close..."

"Stay with it, stay with it," Byers encourages him, "I'm on him."

"He's gonna nail us, man," Langly's breaking a sweat. "He's like way close."

"I'm on him," Byers answers, getting more nervous but remaining determined.
"I think I can lose him, I'm routing us through the Canary Islands...
Cairo..."

"We're almost there, dude," Langly says. His loop line shunt's getting a
workout.

Sari and Scully enter the office, watching them silently. "I'm in Singapore,
he's right on our tail. Keep on him while I bounce us again," Byers says,
"Bombay... damn, he's too close, hurry."

"Gotcha! Lord Manhammer strikes!" Langly shouts in triumph. Byers is hard at
it. Ringo notices Deborah and high-fives her, then blinks at the quickly
scrolling screen, "Wait a minute, Whitecorps? Oh shit, he's military."

At the mention of Whitecorps, Byers pales, and swallows hard. "Bangladesh...
I'm on it, I'm on it -- Langly, can you ID him? I can't hold him off any
longer." He's panting now, near panic.

"We're screwed," I tell them. "Black ops'll be kicking in the door if he
nails us." I'm with them now, looking at their screens. "Get out! Get out!
He's on us, don't let him get our system ID!"

Langly's trying to bail. "Oh Jesus Christ. It's Monroe, the Air Force
intelligence dude. Get us out, Byers! He's gonna nail us!" Johnny's flying,
and he's broken into a hard sweat as he tries to pull us out before Monroe
has our ass. I grab for the main power cord.

"No," Byers shouts, just as our connection breaks, "damn, damn, damn, he got
us!" He slams a fist into his keyboard, then leaps to his feet, yanking the
zip disk from the drive, and hands it to me. He runs for the backup cases we
keep for just this kind of emergency.

The rest of us freeze for an instant, looking at each other. "Oh shit," Sari
whispers.

Black Widow, also known as Major Jack Monroe, USAF, is one ugly bastard.
He's been doing hacker counter-intel for the NSA for most of the last ten
years, and he's imprisoned or assassinated a hell of a lot of people we know
during that time. He may be in Whitestone, New Mexico, but his flunkies will
be at our door in minutes, guns blazing. Langly's already moving. "Deborah,
please tell me you brought medical supplies," I say as I put dinner in foil
and travel containers as fast as I can, and move it into a soft-sided
heater/cooler. Every second counts now.

She looks puzzled. "Why? I had one suture tray in my car, but I used it on
Nicole's toy."

Scully rolls her eyes, then gives her a deadly serious look. "You keep
hanging around with these guys, start carrying a portable triage kit."

"Bail now, Scully, while you can." I slap the zip disk Langly's saved the
hack on into her hand. "Don't let this out of your sight until you hand it
to Sari on Thursday." She nods, stuffs it into her purse, and runs for the
door, phone already in hand. With that disk, she may be able to get Monroe
tangled in an inter-agency custody squabble that could stall him until we're
safe.

"I'll let Skinner know what you found about Black Widow's identity," she
says, halfway out the door. I nod, still moving. There's a lot to do, and no
time to do it.

"Deb, babe, grab your stuff," Langly's pulling her towards the bedroom.

"Say what?"

Panic ensues. "We're bugging out, Deborah. Byers, hit the self-destruct
code. Be ready in five!" I just hope we're not using too much time by taking
five minutes. Now comes the frantic process of grabbing backups, packs of
crucial paper files including the copies of Nicole's files Scully left us,
pulling irreplaceable -- and incriminating -- materials from the safe,
clearing the place for when they kick in the doors. We've never drilled on
this, but we should have. The whole thing looks like a Keystone Kops flick.
It's not pretty, but we do what's needed. Four minutes and fifty seconds
later, portable systems and backups are packed, clothes and personal items
stowed away in the van. Everyone hauled, even Sari with her cast. She's
functioning well one-armed, and keeps her head admirably.

"We gotta get Deb's car outta here," Langly points out.

"She can park it in a guest space under my building. It's Monday night, and
I don't think my neighbors are doing any serious entertaining." Sari needs
to get hers out of here as well.

"Sari, we can't go back to your building. It might be dangerous," Byers
points out, his voice up in tenor with anxiety.

"I'm not leaving without the Cardinal and the lizards," she says, and Byers
shuts up. How could he imagine leaving without my kitty-boo? "And I need
clothes and a few essentials. I'll be fast."

"Oh good, we'll have the cat." Deborah seems a bit confused by the activity,
and though she's very helpful, I still don't think the implications of what
we're doing have sunk in.

"Uh, Frohike? Like, where we gonna go?" Langly asks. Oh Christ, I knew I'd
forgotten something, but I can be fast on my feet, too.

"Skinner has a beach house he almost never uses up on the Bay. If someone
has a better idea, I'm listening."

"A beach house? Cool." Poor Deborah; I wonder how long it will take for her
to get it, and when she does, if she'll stick around. In the meantime,
though, we hit the road.

Having deposited Sari and Deborah's cars and gotten Sari's necessities, we
head out in the overcrowded, wheezing van. Langly's driving, I'm navigating,
and Byers and the two women are crammed into the rear seat. The Cardinal is
in his crate near my feet, yowling disconsolately. I reach down to open the
cage, but Sari stops me. "No, he has to stay in there."

"But he's unhappy!"

"Then he's unhappy. He's not riding out in the car, he's safer in the
carrier. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." She's right. "Don't worry, kitty-boo, Unca Mel has yummy
salmon for oo. "

"Mel, you've got to stop feeding him," Sari protests.

"But he's hungry." Whenever I see him, he's howling like he's deep in the
throes of starvation.

"Look at him, he's 22 pounds. I'd like him to have ground clearance, not to
mention liver and kidney function."

"He's gorgeous. One of these days I'm gonna get a cat," Deborah says, "when
I'm not working so much." Yeah, that'll be a cold day in hell, Dr.
SaintJohn.

"What about dogs? Dogs are cool," Langly says. I know he wants one. He's
only been going on about it for, oh, the past eleven years.

"Dogs are cool, too," Deborah agrees.

"They get fur in the equipment," I growl, "and right now, we have to think
about finding a new place. We can't stay there any more. They'll nail our
asses."

"What? Give up the luxury and comfort we're so accustomed to?" Byers teases,
but he turns serious. "You're right. We can't go back there except to move
our stuff, and maybe not even that. Who knows if they'll be waiting to
ambush us. The whole planet will know where we were based."

"Jesus, I hate moving," Langly groans.

"I moved three times in two years, believe me, I sympathize," Sari offers.
"When was the last time you had to move?"

"Uh... we've been where we are since 1989," I announce.

"Yep. The Lone Gunman Publishing Group, established 1989. For the reader who
wants to stay informed and alive," Langly says, maneuvering the squeaky old
beast. We're on the back country roads to the shore, instead of taking the
highways. I feel safer going this route, but I don't think my kidneys agree.
I wish we had the Chrysler, its suspension is more or less intact. Then
again, we can fit a lot more stuff in the van.

"Guys, I have to be back in DC Thursday for the press conference." Sari
reminds us why we're on this little field trip in the first place. "I need
to call Devi and let her know I'm okay, and somebody's got to water the
plants."

"Just don't let her go to your place, or tell her where you are. It's safer
that way," Byers says gently, as she leans her head against his shoulder.
He's really depressed.

"Man, I'm like so sorry," Langly begins, "but if we didn't get that close, I
wasn't gonna nail him. I figured on us being faster than him, but man, that
military big iron... guess I fucked up."

"You did not fuck up, Ringo," Deborah's voice is stern, almost motherly. "If
nobody's bleeding, vomiting or in cardiac arrest, you did not fuck up."
Well, we know what her standards are. God, I hope it doesn't come to the
bleeding-vomiting-cardiac arrest stage. She doesn't understand just how fast
it could happen.

"Langly, I did my best to cover you," Byers says, "he just had faster
hardware. I'm sorry I wasn't faster. It's really my fault we got nailed."

"Shut up Byers. Deborah's right," I concur, "shit happens."

Langly says, "yeah, well, according to the map, we should be just about
there... oh man, put me in hiding forever!" We pull up to Skinner's beach
house. Granted, it's a cottage, but compared to our bunker, it's straight
out of Architectural Digest; an old fieldstone place, with mullioned
windows. There's a lot of brush and foliage. It's a mixed blessing: it'll
conceal us, but it'll also conceal anyone trying to get close to the place.
I wonder if he has perimeter alarms?

You can hear the ocean as the engine shuts down. There's something calming
about it, and it eases over us quickly. "Don't get too comfortable, people.
We've got a lot of work to do."

"You're such a putz, Frohike," Langly grumbles. Well, somebody has to be.
All appearances to the contrary, this is most assuredly not a vacation.

SKINNER'S BEACH HOUSE,MARYLAND COAST
10:30 PM

The cottage is modestly sized but elegantly appointed, as one would expect
from Walter Skinner, who appreciates the finer things in life. The brusque
Assistant Director loves literature, antiques, good whiskey, and fine wine.
Rumor has it he keeps a small wine cellar here. We'll have to check it out.
There are only two bedrooms, one with a king-sized bed, presumably the Big
Man's, and one with two doubles. Deborah and Langly race toward the room
with the king bed in it. "Dibs on this room!" Langly shouts, like he's a kid
on vacation, not an outlaw hacker hiding from a deadly enemy.

"Fine." I don't really care. If Sari and Byers are comfortable with the
arrangement, they can have the double bedroom. I don't mind sleeping on the
sofa. It seems quite comfortable, and it can't be as bad as the Red Mistress
in the office. "Just don't use up all the hot water." There's only one
bathroom. The guys and I are accustomed to living that way, but we don't
ordinarily have two female guests on a full-time basis. This'll be
interesting.

"We can set up over here," Byers announces, setting cases and equipment on a
long plank table and sideboard in the dining room. "There's a backup
generator for power if we need it." He surveys the rest of the area. "We
need to unpack and get started setting up. Where's Langly?"

"I'll take our bags into the other room, John," Sari says, "then I'll start
unloading the van."

"Where do you think?" I snarl. Jesus. "Blondie, this ain't Club Med, get
your ass out here!"

"In a minute!" Brat.

LANGLY:

"Wow, this is great!" Deb is lying on the bed, all stretched out. She looks
delicious. "I think it was a little extreme, running off like that, but
coming here, what a wonderful vacation." Truth is, I'm scared outta my mind.
Monroe nailed us bad, and we're screwed if anyone saw us come here. Frohike
and me were watching and didn't see anyone tailing us, but that doesn't mean
nobody was. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get
you. I'm hoping we're isolated enough here that we can lay low until
Thursday. I toss my backpack on the chair with hers. "Babe, are you okay?"
she asks me.

No, I'm not okay, but I don't wanna get her more riled up than I need to.
"I'm fine."

She sits up on the edge of the bed, and I sit down with her. She's not being
playful now, but takes my hand and squeezes it. "We're in a lot of trouble,
aren't we?"

"Yeah." No point in lying. I don't want her to freak, but I don't want to
lie to her, either. "This is what I was talking about, babe. These guys will
probably try to kill us. It's not a game." She thinks about that, real
quiet. She's probably thinking, this isn't worth it. No guy is, especially
not me.

Then she says, "I love you, Ringo." What? Okay, a lot of stuff has thrown me
tonight, but that one's like a major hit. I'm waiting for her to add the
'but' in there somewhere, but it doesn't come, at least not by the time
Frohike's got his shorts in a knot screaming for me to get out there. I do,
but not until I tell her I love her too. Hey, I do my best work under
pressure.

FROHIKE:

The kids unload most of the stuff and start unpacking while I call Skinner
and let him know where we are. I'm sorry, old age and treachery may overcome
youth and skill, but not when it comes to playing pack mule. Deborah was
immensely helpful; the girl's pretty strong. I just hope she's as strong on
the inside. She looks at Langly with the soft eyes of a woman in love. I
think he's noticed. If he hasn't, he's dumber than a stump. Sari is limited
by having only one fully functioning arm, but she still assists us in wiring
up, and organizing the backups into some semblance of order, after she's
planted her tiny screened-in lizard box under a lamp for warmth. I know
she's afraid, but her fear seems to take a back seat to the tasks at hand.
The food's in from the van, and I check it; my salmon is now a squishy mess.
It probably tastes okay, though. I'll let my kitty-boo try it out to make
sure. "Come here, kitty-boo! Unca Mel has tweatsies!"

"Mel, what did I tell you?" This time, Sari's voice is a lot sharper than it
was in the van. "I mean it. No snacks!"

"Just a taste! He's had a hawd twip, haven't oo, Cawdinal?" I pick him up
and we touch noses.

"Mel, I'm not kidding." She's taller than me and right now she's towering
over me. I've already been chewed out by one woman today; I don't need a
repeat performance. And speaking of being chewed out by women, if I don't
notify Mel about this, she's going to get mighty upset, or at least
suspicious. Once we're on line, I send her a quick e-mail.

"Mel -- sorry this is so short, but things are crazy here. If you don't hear
from me by Friday, there's a chance that you won't hear from me again, but
I'm hopeful things will be otherwise. Keep the faith. Mel." Keep the faith,
indeed. As it's being torn to tiny shreds, we're trying to keep it too, like
a candle in a hurricane. I'm not much for prayer, but right now, I'm praying
for good luck.

End part 20

Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 21 of 24 by Erynn and Sally

______

"Tell the truth: a hard lot.
And no shirking this fate;
no sleep, no respite,
no hope for a long time."

~~Seamus Heaney -- Sweeney Astray~~
______

TUESDAY, APRIL 7, 2000
SKINNER'S BEACH HOUSE,MARYLAND COAST
1:53 AM

FROHIKE:

We finally got Byers into bed about midnight, but it was a fight. Sari and I
argued with him for ten minutes, and she finally prevailed with "I take it
you actually want to end up wearing glasses and having blinding headaches
for the rest of your life, like me?" He flinched, and I don't think she
liked having to hit him with it either. According to his original recovery
prognosis, he should have been released for large print two weeks ago, and
apparently it's his reluctance to get enough rest that's holding him back.
She's concerned about his health, and so am I. He's always been one to push
himself too hard, and now it's taking its toll.

The cottage has a fireplace, and I lit a fire a while ago. Sari and I are
sitting in comfortable chairs, soaking up the warmth and sharing a bottle of
merlot from an Oregon vineyard that Sari assured me was quite good. After
having sampled its vintage, I have to agree. She only poured herself half a
glass, but she's not much of a drinker, and it doesn't surprise me. The
Cardinal's curled up on my lap, asleep, and Sari is playing with one of her
anoles, Porthos, apparently. It skitters around on her hand, playing between
her fingers, crawling up her wrist and into her sleeve, and into the folds
of the large t-shirt she's chosen as sleepwear. Her legs are clad in paisley
tights, and she has thick socks on her feet. "That's a very interesting
bracelet," I say to her, trying to get a better look. She's wearing it over
her cast; silver and broad, it has Sanskrit letters welded onto it.

"Oh, I've had this for a long time. It was a gift from my guru before I left
the ashram to return to Oregon."

"Is that, like, some kind of religious thing then?" I'll admit I don't know
much about Hinduism.

"Yes, it is. It has Kali-Ma and Durga mantras on it. They're goddesses that
give strength and fierce protection to their devotees. My guru blessed it
before he gave it to me; said I'd be needing those things as my life
progressed, that I had a hard path to walk. Seems he was right." She runs
her fingers over the raised lettering, muttering the mantras. "I felt like I
need it this week." I can't blame her. I wish I believed in something enough
to think it might protect me. She offers her hand, moving Porthos out of the
way, and I get a better look at it. "It's made of the seven sacred metals
for balanced energies and healing," she says, "the red stones are carnelian,
the blue are turquoise. When a guru or an avatar has blessed one, they're
very sacred." The string of sandalwood beads she has around her other wrist
is no mystery to me, though. I've seen her use it. She says they're prayer
beads, called a mala, for keeping track of mantras. There's a faint trace of
sandalwood scent to them, as there always seems to be to her.
 
"It's quite lovely," I tell her, petting my kitty-boo's ears. I've been
wanting to talk to her today, but life has intervened. Things are finally
calm enough for me to do that and not be interrupted by some emergency.
"Sari, I'd... I'd really like to apologize to you for what Langly and I did
the other day..." She nods, waits for me to continue. "I guess I knew that
nothing's really going on between you and John, but... well... we've been
worried about him for a long time. Pretty much since we met him. He met
Susanne the same day he met us, and his life has never been the same." I
pause, trying to think how I can explain it to her without stepping on
Byers' privacy.

"He's told me a lot about her," she answers, "what his life was like before
he met you... before he met her. He's still in love with her, you know." I'm
not sure what to make of that. I was fairly sure, but I also know he's
letting go as best he can. I just nod. "I think he's starting to realize
that if he wants to be with someone, have a family, all the things he dreams
of, it can't be with her."

"He told you that?" I ask, astonished. He's talked to me and Langly about it
a little, on bad nights when the memories steal his dreams, turn into
terrors, and wake him, screaming, but he's never breathed a whisper to
anyone else. Mulder doesn't know, nor Scully. And there's a lot he keeps to
himself, as well, things he won't even tell us. It seems he trusts Sari far
more than I suspected.

Sari nods. "Despite the all hassle you guys give him, he really loves you
two. He says that you're the reason he's managed to hold on. He has a lot of
respect for you, Mel, but right now, he's hurting over how you and Ringo
have been acting about us. I know it's just a guy thing, but you've got to
lay off him. He's still confused about how he feels. When we're alone, we
talk a lot. Though he hasn't said it in so many words, I get the feeling he
expects me to run when things get bad, like Susanne did. He's afraid that if
we get too close, I'll be kidnapped or killed, or used to get to him, and
the two of you. I know it's a possibility, Mel, I'm not dismissing it. At
the moment, that would be difficult, even fatal. It scares me, you know."
She sighs and takes a sip from her glass, absently running a finger along
Porthos' tail. The lizard looks up at her and she puts him back in his box.
"The truth is, at this point, it's just as likely that someone could use the
three of you to get to me. "

The thought seems strange, but at the same time makes sense. It would work
both ways, wouldn't it? "I didn't know he talked to you about that," I
respond, "but he may be more worried about you staying and getting hurt than
bolting on us. Byers, he's always been very private, afraid to get close to
anyone. Not that me and Langly are much better about it, but I think our
life has always been hardest for him. Of all of us, he's the one whose life
changed the most, who... well, I guess who lost the most. His dad won't even
talk to him anymore. He hates me and Langly, thinks we ruined his son's
life. Maybe he's right, but staying with us was Johnny's choice."

"I know. I wish that they could work things out, but they're both angry with
each other. John just wants to be accepted for what he is, wants to be
respected, and his dad won't give him that. John doesn't know how to talk to
him now, or what to say. He wants to respect his dad, but he says that by
staying with the government, he's sold out. He's tried everything he can
think of, but his dad says he's a failure, that he's lost his mind. I think
being cut off from his father might really be the worst of it for him." He
really has been spilling his guts to her. Some of this is new to me. "You
guys, and John especially, have been good friends, even when you've been
assholes," she says with a smile. "I think you're aware that I care about
him a great deal. We've become close friends, and... I'm not entirely sure
why. He says he doesn't make friends easily. But sometimes he seems to be
very at easy telling me these things."

"That's true, he doesn't usually get too close to people." He hangs out with
the people we know, our sources, friends and fellow hackers, but for all
that he thinks of them as friends, and would go the distance for them if
they needed it, he doesn't talk to them, at least not about himself. I know
Susanne never knew as much about him in all the years he was pining away for
her as Sari does after a month of being around us. Some of it was lack of
opportunity, sure, but a lot of it is Sari's personality. "You've been
really good for him, Sari, and I think he knows it. It's never been easy for
him. Langly and I, well, we were always on the shady side. Doing what we do
wasn't that much of a step for us, more like just opening our eyes to
extreme possibilities, but Byers, he was just like his dad, a total company
man. He was in the FCC, wanted to stay there for the rest of his life, get a
pension, settle down. He trusted the government, people, institutions, but
it all got ripped out from under him. His idealism and trust aren't dead,
but they've been buried deep over the years. Of the three of us, I always
figured he was the one who had the best shot at getting out of this, finding
something like a normal life. He could walk away from it and almost blend
in, but he knows too much, sees too much. It wouldn't matter what he did,
he'd always carry that with him, and I think it would eventually just drive
him back into the dark."

"Yeah, I think that's likely. But I know he also wants to be able to walk in
the light once in a while, too. He talks about wanting to have friends,
people around him who care about him; not that you guys don't, but he needs
other people too. He says most of the guys you hang out with would leave all
three of you out to dry if they thought things were getting too hot. I
understand what he means. If... when we get through this, I'm going to do
what I can to help him. I have a lot of friends, men and women -- caring,
interesting, intelligent, talented people, like John. Maybe he'll even meet
someone he can love someday. I hope it happens for him. He needs that, just
not right now."

"Sari, I'm not hinting or trying to push anything at you, but I think you're
selling yourself short if you don't think he might consider you that way
someday." She sighs and stares into the fire.

"I don't know, Mel. We've become very close, but I don't know if I ever want
to be involved with anyone again, not after Barry. I feel I can't trust my
own judgment. I mean, he didn't just fool me, he fooled Devi, and she's got
a hot radar for the bad ones. John has gotten closer to me than anyone has
in a long time, and sometimes it... I mean... he's the kind of man I think I
could be with, but it'll be a long time before I'm ready for anything like
that. But I don't think he'd want me anyway. I could never give him a
family...  all the damage Barry did... anyway, I think any discussion about
that between me and John would be a bit premature, don't you?"

"I understand. I'm just saying that if something ever does happen between
you, I'll be very happy for both of you." I take her hand and give it a
gentle squeeze. She smiles gently at me and shakes her head.

"We'll deal with that if it ever becomes an issue, okay?"

I smile back at her. I'm glad she didn't take it as interference. The longer
I know her, the better they seem together. She's certainly got a temper, and
apparently a righteous sense of revenge, especially if she had anything to
do with bringing Scully down on my ass, but so does Byers, and she's seen a
bit of his. A noise distracts us, and we look for its source. After a
moment, I recognize it as Byers starting to freak. It's not serious yet, but
it'll get there fast. "Come with me." We enter the room, and she reaches
down to touch Byers' restless form. "Don't do that," I caution her,
"sometimes when it's bad, he wakes up swinging."

"John?" she says gently.

His discomfort is increasing. "...Susanne..." he mumbles, "no...Timmy...
don' shoot..." 

I jostle the bed. "Byers, wake up." I know it usually takes more than that,
but I don't want to start with overkill. It only makes him startle worse
when he does wake.

Sari sits down on the bed next to him and runs a soothing hand down his
back. "John, it's Sari, please, wake up." He stirs, but doesn't wake. He
doesn't thrash either, so I think he recognizes her voice. "It's all right,
John, you're having a nightmare. Come back, you're okay."

Byers rolls over onto his side, facing her, twitching and moving restlessly,
his breathing panic-rapid, but he still doesn't wake. "Sari..." he whimpers,
"don' go... it's... no, don' hurt her..." He reaches out with one hand and
yelps, "Barry, no!" She moves closer and takes his outstretched hand. She
shouldn't, but his shaky breathing starts to level out as she does. Maybe
he'll come out of it easier this time.

"Wake up, John. You're all right, there's nothing here to hurt you. I'm
fine, I'm fine..." she keeps speaking quietly, stroking his back, and when
he does startle awake, it's with a gasp instead of a shout. "It's all right
John, you're safe, you're okay."

Byers looks up at her, still groggy and panting, then wraps his arms around
her, trembling, his face buried against her stomach. I sit with both of them
and run my hand through his sweat damp hair and down over his shoulders.
"You gonna be okay, buddy?" I ask him softly. He nods and whispers something
I can't hear. Sari's never been around when he's been like this, but seems
to handle it okay. His nightmares have eased up more than I ever thought
possible in the time he's known her, and while he still has them, their
force has been less intense and terrifying. At least now I have some idea
why. He's told her things that he's never told me, and I think that release
has been something he's needed for a very long time. The dreams and
flashbacks will always be with him; I'm still having them about 'Nam after
all these years, but I think he'll cope with them better the longer she's
with him. "I'll let you talk to him for a while," I say to Sari, "he'll
probably want some mint tea." Byers nods again, and makes a half conscious
'mm-hmm' sound.

"Would you pour one for me as well?" Sari asks.

"Of course, my dear." After I make the tea, I think I'll get some sleep. It
looks like things are under control.

10:17 AM

LANGLY:

Frohike's still crashed on the couch, snoring like a sawmill. Me and Deb, we
didn't get much sleep last night, and it wasn't because we were havin' any
hot and heavy action either. I was way too nervous to relax. I heard a
little bit of noise, and I'm guessing it was Byers having one of his
nightmares again, but it never got too loud. I'm glad they're not as bad for
him anymore. Me, I have 'em too, but talking to Deb has helped, especially
with the ones about Timmy. I don't know if anything will ever help with the
ones from Vegas, where I got zapped by Landau and was gonna kill Susanne, or
from Baltimore, when we all first learned about this stuff, and that black
guy in the trench coat had the three of us all kneeling on the floor, like
he was gonna execute us. 'No bags,' God that still shakes me. Man, I know
Byers has the worst of that one, but I still hear that sound too. Me and Deb
are taking a shower when I hear Frohike get up. "Don't use all the hot
water!" he yells, just like always.

"Hey, we're conserving water by showering together," I yell back. I was
kinda tweaked to see that Skinner keeps bubble bath here. Maybe he's got a
lady we don't know about. Deb giggles and soaps me up in places that would
usually make me moan and want to press her up against the wall and have my
way with her. Right now, though, it's kinda hard to concentrate. "Deb, hon,
like I'm not really in the mood right now." Man, I never thought I'd say
that. She looks kinda confused and disappointed.

"Hey, I don't know about you, but this is supposed to be my vacation. I
intend to get my share of relaxation while I'm with you."

"It's not you babe, honest. I'm just... well, I'm pretty nervous."

"Well, at least let me wash your hair," she says. Now that I can live with,
and it really does feel good. I think it makes her feel a little better too.
When we're finally out, dry and dressed, Frohike is standing in the kitchen,
staring at the nearly empty fridge. We didn't bring much in the way of food
when we bailed. "What's for breakfast?" Deb asks him.

"I don't know. Not much to work with," he says.

"Hey, me  and Deb can make a trip into town and get stuff."

He gives me his 'what planet are you from' look. "Sorry, Hairboy, but I'm
not living the next couple of days on Twinkies."

"Like, what's wrong with Twinkies?" I cross my arms and glower at him. It's
not working.

"I tend to prefer food that has organic origins." Byers and Sari are padding
into the kitchen. She looks okay, but he looks wiped out still. She's being
a little snippy with him.

"You should stay in bed, John. You know you need to get more rest. You're
not going to get well if you keep pushing yourself like this." He's not
looking too happy, but we all know she's right.

"I may not be your doctor," Deb says, "but I am a doctor, and Sari's right.
You should get your ass back in bed." He looks up at her and just shakes his
head.

"There's too much to do," he insists. He always does. Not like things ever
change. He could be, like, six weeks dead and nobody'd notice, 'cause he'd
be running around going 'just let me finish this...' Frohike takes him by
the arm and leads him back to the room he's sharing with Sari.

"No excuses, Byers. We're not going to let you keep this up." Narcboy just
gives this sigh, like he's so put upon, and lets Fro lead him back to bed.
When Mel comes back he says, "Sari, why don't you get dressed. You and I can
go and do some grocery shopping. At least I know I can trust you to make
intelligent decisions." Deb sticks her tongue out at him behind his back.

"Okay," Sari says. "Let's do something when I get back, Deborah." Deb's
like, cool, so Sari takes a quick shower, surveys the supplies, and she and
Mel are off to forage.

After breakfast, me and the troll get busy with some more hacking stuff.
We've got a lot to do if we're going to be safe getting online again. Have
to build a new server, make new ID's for the net, do our best to erase
traces of our old ID's, that kind of thing. And we've gotta see what's
happening with Black Widow and his crew of buzz-cut NSA goons. When we come
up for air, we don't see Deb or Sari around anywhere. "Deb?" I'm looking
around the place. It's not that big. Nobody in the bathroom. She's not in
Byers' room, and I can't imagine why she'd want to be. Not in the wine
cellar either. They're not out near the van, and I don't see 'em on the back
porch. "Fro, man, they're gone. They're not here. What the hell coulda
happened to 'em?"

He looks up, kinda freaked. "It hasn't been that long. If somebody grabbed
them, we should have heard something." He runs out to the back porch. "Hey,
Langly, look -- tracks." He points out toward where the grassy yard ends and
the sand begins. Two sets of footprints. By now, Byers is up too, wrapping
his robe around him.

"What's going on?"

"Sari and Deb have disappeared," I tell him, then I show him the tracks.

"Maybe they went down to the beach?" he suggests.

"Well, that was damn stupid of them." Frohike's pissed.

"True, but we know Deborah doesn't really understand what's happening, and
I'm not sure Sari is quite as cautious as she should be either," Byers says.
I run down towards the beach, looking for them, and Frohike follows me.
Byers runs to get some clothes on, in case something's happened and we have
to haul out of here fast. After a couple minutes, we see them by the water.

"Hey!" I shout down at them. They look up and wave. I don't wanna use their
names out here, especially not shouting down the beach. There aren't a lot
of neighbors, and it's in the off season during the week, but we need to
attract as little attention as possible. Frohike waves them to come back.
Man, he's pissed. So am I, and I bet Byers will be too. "Hurry up," I yell.
Me and Fro, we're scoping out the area, looking for anyone who might see or
hear us. Thank God, I don't see anybody.

"Looks clear so far," Frohike says, and then the girls come up.

"What's up?" Deb asks. Me and Frohike just grab them and we start jogging up
the beach back to the cottage. "Hey, take it easy, we just went for a walk!"

"You don't get it, do you?" I snap at her.

"Get what?" she says.

"We're here to hide, babe, not hang out on the beach. It's dangerous out
here. Somebody could see you." By the time we make it back inside, we're out
of breath, and Deb's angry. Sari only looks mildly annoyed.

"Sari, what the hell were you doing? I thought you understood why we're
here." Byers is way pissed.

"We're here to avoid getting ourselves killed before Nicole and I have to do
our press conference Thursday," she answers, all calm.

"So why were you two out cavorting on the beach like you're on vacation?"
Frohike growls.

"I don't see why this is such a problem," Sari says. "If they know where we
are, hiding inside isn't going to do any good. They could shoot us through
the windows from out in the bushes, or kick the door in and kill us while we
sleep. Being out on the beach isn't going to matter." I mean, it sounds
reasonable on the surface, but she hasn't quite got the depths of it. Deb is
listening and she's like freaking about Sari talking about people shooting
us through the windows and stuff. Byers shakes his head, looking grim.

"If they did know where we are, we'd probably be dead by now," he says. Sari
looks like that hadn't occurred to her. "And since it seems they don't, we
want to keep it that way. We need to stay inside as much as possible, or
only out on the porch. We have to keep supply trips to a bare minimum." He's
like real angry with her, and she can tell. She's backing up a little, and
he doesn't seem to notice that he's making her nervous. "The more you go
outside, the more likely it is that someone will see us here, and that's the
last thing we want." Sari's getting a little pale now, and she nods. I think
she has the picture, and she's pretty upset.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking it all the way through. I just... I just
wanted to go and have some time to talk to Deborah. There's not a lot of
private space in here. I'm..."

Byers interrupts her. "Sari, you need to pay more attention. I don't want
you to get hurt. I don't want any of us to get hurt. You have to stay
inside." Man, he's all bitchy before his first caffeine of the day. We're
all pissed at both of them, but he's just real prickly right now. I bet he's
still pissed we all made him go back to bed. "You two were risking
everyone's lives out there. We all have to cooperate right now so that we
can make it through this. It isn't like hiding from Barry, Sari. It won't
take these guys months to find us. If they get wind of us, wherever we go,
they'll be on us fast, and we may not have time to get out." Now Deb's all
up against me, holding me and trying to keep her cool while Byers rants.
It's all true, and she needs to hear it, but he's laying on the guilt trip
pretty deep here.

I'm like hearing something outside. "Oh shit." I grab Frohike and we look
out the front window. The sound is louder. It's a vehicle of some sort.
"Somebody's coming up the road. We're screwed." Everybody looks about ready
to panic. Me, I'm already there.

End part 21

Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 22 of 24 by Erynn and Sally
______

"A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all"

~~William Butler Yeats -- The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats~~
______

TUESDAY, APRIL 7, 2000
SKINNER'S BEACH HOUSE,MARYLAND COAST
1:04 PM

BYERS:

Oh shit. We've been found. Frohike and Langly run from the window, and once
again, it feels like everyone's trying to hide behind me. Langly's taller;
he's the one who should be in front, but it never happens that way. "We're
screwed," Langly moans.

The door's lock is released; I can hear the cylinders tumble, and the
mechanism clicks ominously. Without thinking, I grab Sari and pull her in to
me hard as she hits the floor next to me. We're all huddled in a tight
clump, cowering behind the couch. I don't know how much good trying to
shield her will do once the bullets start flying, but maybe she'll have a
chance. I can tell she's trying to control her breathing, without much
success. Deborah and Langly have given up breathing altogether. They're more
tightly wound around one another than most people are when they're
copulating. Frohike's got one of my arms like a vise. His expression is like
an angry bulldog's, but I've known him long enough to know it's his panic
face. "Ow, John," Sari hisses. I have her in a death grip, and I try to ease
my hold on her shoulder but I can't, I'm just too scared. Great, the last
thing I do to her is leave bruises. Smart move, Byers -- if we survive,
she's going to hate me. I promised I'd never hurt her.

"If my advisor finds out about this, I'm dead meat," Deborah squeaks,
terrified.

"Your advisor's the least of your problems," Langly snaps at her in a hiss.
She clearly doesn't appreciate the remark, but she isn't letting go of him,
either. We're doomed. The door is opening. A large, bulky man fills the
frame; a tall, broad-shouldered, balding man with glasses.

"You know, you could've called first. I'd have given you the key." A.D.
Skinner proffers it to Frohike as we peek over the top of the couch. "You're
just lucky the management company came by the other day, or you'd have had
dirty linens and a foot of dust to contend with." He slams the door behind
him. The five of us release a collective sigh. It's been a while since
anyone exhaled. We all stand up slowly as Skinner stares at us. Sari rubs
her shoulder.

"I would have if we'd had time," Frohike says.

"You scared us," I mumble, like a helpless seven-year-old. I am so utterly
pathetic. God, I'm so embarrassed. At least Frohike doesn't heap scorn on
me; he was as terrified as the rest of us.

"And how do you think I felt when I discovered the perimeter alarms were
tripped?" He can monitor them from a control panel in his apartment. "Thank
you for at least having the decency to call me, Melvin. I was ready to send
in the troops."

"It's a nice place," Deborah has recovered some of her equilibrium and is
trying to be courteous.

"Sit down, people, let's talk," Skinner instructs, and we all comply; he's
accustomed to having his orders followed, and since it's his beach house, we
do feel obligated to do as we're told. "Here's what I've got so far." He
pulls several manila envelopes from his briefcase. They're all blank, which
gives a new twist to the phrase 'plain brown wrapper.' Different than the
plain brown wrappers we're accustomed to anyway -- the delivery of various
and sundry 'adult' magazine subscriptions, and the 'sex aids' Frohike
orders. "I've got agents at your place, but unfortunately they didn't get
there before it had been completely tossed. I'm assuming you have some sort
of fail-safe in place?"

"Please, give us a little credit," I say rather sharply. Does he think we're
complete idiots? Frohike glares at me.

"Byers, shut up." I've heard that before.

Skinner just looks at me. I shut up. "It looks as if whoever paid you a
visit knew exactly what they were looking for, because there were only
selected items damaged. However, what they lacked in quantity, they more
than made up for in brute force. Hope you've got some legitimate work lined
up, preferably with a check that has lots of zeros."

"We do," Frohike says, without giving the details. I'm glad we do. We've had
a job doing programming and consulting with FPS in California, and we're
supposed to go there in May for some on-site consult and game testing. The
Sierra money was great, except now we'll have to spent it all on replacement
equipment. At least we got dinner at Yamato out of it. The one thing we do
have in common with Middle America is that we live paycheck to paycheck,
except for the 'leave the country' fund, and nobody touches that. It could
be the difference between life and death if things get worse than they are
now.

"What's the word on Wildfire? Was the analysis completed? What about Dana's
contact?" Sari's very concerned.

"Let's see, that's in here. Wildfire is... 5, alpha dichloromethobromo...
oh, forget it. I can't pronounce this. But the analysis from the Bureau labs
indicate that the substance is highly neurotoxic in humans and animals,
especially in the developmental stages, but there's some toxic effect in all
stages. It's apparently got a tough membrane that can survive up to about 50
degrees Celsius and will maintain its integrity at zero Celsius, although it
becomes less active at that point. It's easily inserted through E. coli into
the gut and transmitted through the blood, settling in the central nervous
system. Scully believes that the membrane and chemical bonds can be broken,
but not by standard water treatments. Very high sodium levels will disable
it but you don't want that amount of salt going into the ground water, so
the challenge is to find some way to disable or destroy the substance in the
water without making it toxic in some other way. That may be tough." He
shakes his head miserably. "I hate this shit. Give me green-blooded aliens
and fat-sucking monsters any day of the week." We all laugh uneasily, though
the joke is lost on Sari and Deborah, who pass a confused look between them.
Sari shakes her head. "Scully indicated that she made successful contact
with the person in charge of storing the sample. Let's hope no one else got
wind of it."

"Is Dana all right?" Sari asks nervously, "Nicole and my sister?"

"She's fine. They all are." There's a deep sigh of relief all around. "Now,
about our not-so-friendly hacker." That relief was certainly short-lived.

"Major Jack Monroe, USAF, Whitestone, New Mexico; works for the NSA," I
respond. The name tastes vile in my mouth. Skinner looks nauseous.

"I'm well aware of his identity, Scully filled me in. You guys couldn't just
find some pimple-faced teenaged joyrider, could you? No, you had to find an
intelligence top gun."

"We did confirm his identity, isn't that what you needed?" Langly sounds a
bit defensive.

"Yes, it is, and you have no idea how much interagency fighting is going on
over this right now. It's going to be really ugly, but you did get proof,
and it'll probably save your asses from national security charges if you
live long enough. Makes me think I should be careful what I wish for." He
groans audibly. Skinner stands; this isn't a social call, and he's not
pretending it is. "Stay as long as you need to, but if you so much as think
about touching my 1932 Lafitte Rothschild, you're better off having Black
Widow coming after you. At least he'd make it quick and painless."

"We've been sticking to the Oregon vineyard selections," Frohike assures
him.

"Good stuff," is the last thing Skinner says as he heads out.

Langly turns to me, baffled. "What's a 1932 Lafitte Rothschild?"

"A bottle of wine that costs more than all the equipment we're going to have
to replace," Frohike moans.

"Really? Maybe like we could auction it on E-Bay and get up enough scratch
to..." We're all staring at him. "Okay, okay, no go on the vino."

"I guess we can't go outside anymore," Deborah sulks.

"No, you can't," I remind her sharply. "That goes for everyone."

I head for the bathroom to get my eye meds. I hear Langly say "What, is he
on the rag or something?" It gets a chuckle from Frohike, but the women give
him the look of death. Apparently they think it's about as funny as I do.

"I'll do your eye meds, John, but only if you promise to lie down for a
while and not do anything visual," Sari calls to me.

"I have to see what's on the otaku boards."

"The what?" she asks.

"The outlaw hacker boards. They're inaccessible to most users, but a
lifeline for those of us in the business," I tell her. I want to see if any
news of our latest exploit has reached the boards. It's not likely; most
hackers know Black Widow's rep and fear him accordingly. It's not even so
much that he's better than we are, but his hardware's a lot bigger, and like
everything else in a predominantly male culture, size matters. It would help
everyone, knowing who he really is, though. It would make him a lot easier
to track or avoid, but I'm debating the wisdom of posting our latest coup
just yet. I sure don't feel victorious.

"John, I will not stand by and watch you damage your eyes permanently," Sari
says, and I feel my gut clench. I know she means well, but I need to help
the guys; the least I can do is get caught up with my backlog of email
contacts and information, unread now for a month. Who knows what we've
missed?

"You are not my mother," I snap at her.

"No, but I am your friend," she snaps back.

"She's right, y'know," Deborah says, not looking up from the journal she's
engrossed in.

"How would you know? You don't do eye stuff," Langly snips.

She bristles. "I do enough emergency eye stuff to know!" Then she returns to
her reading, miffed.

Langly, knowing he's been wrong, sidles over to her on the sofa. "Hey, you
just gonna read that all day or what?"

She slaps the journal down. American Society of Critical Care Physicians.
Maybe she's reading up on what to do in the event we do get our asses shot
off. "Listen, what do you expect me to do? You're on the computer, I can't
go outside, and there aren't even any good movies here."

"Actually, there are," Sari comments. Skinner has a small selection, and
most of them are titles I can appreciate. He's heavily into Ingmar Bergman.

"What, movies about people sitting in a room being miserable? Shit, I can
get that right here," Frohike mutters. "Look Langly, check the online TV
schedules, see if there's something we could all possibly enjoy."

"Be nice if we could put on some cartoons," Langly grumbles.

"Oh, please, I don't think I can endure hours on end of anime." I can't. I
won't. Doe-eyed androgynous assassins, precocious seven year olds, and
stupid sidekicks; it'll make me crazy.

"What's wrong with anime?" Deborah's irritated with me.

"Like I can take hours of that black and white crap in weird languages,"
Langly snaps. "He doesn't even have any Godzilla, man. Now, that's my kind
of foreign flick."

"All right, boys and girls, let's settle down," Frohike snaps at all of us.
"We have to be here at least another day and a half. If we're gonna get
killed, let's not make it by each other's hands." Right now, that's a much
more likely possibility than having the door kicked in. I ask Sari to take
care of my medication. After that, I'll lie down on my bed and close my
eyes, just to avoid the bickering. Maybe she'll read to me.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 8, 2000
5:30 PM

FROHIKE:

Considering the stress we're under, everyone's doing pretty well, but the
squabbling is getting to me. This isn't a large house; we're all on top of
each other, and our movement is very restricted. What's even worse is that
there's only one TV. Nobody agrees on what to watch. Byers keeps whining
that he hasn't seen anything in ages, and that he should get to pick. About
the only thing we all agree on is the news. A TV in each room would go a
long way toward peace in the ranks, but there's nothing we can do about that
right now. Maybe I'll put a bug in Walter's ear when we get back.

Sari's spent time out on the back porch doing yoga a couple of times a day
-- seems it's the only place here with enough open floor space for it -- and
she also did some strange ritual thing in her and Byers' room this morning.
Sure doesn't look like any church stuff I ever attended as a kid. She says
she was doing puja, which is some kind of devotional ceremony, and that she
doesn't usually impose it on other people, but there isn't a private place
for it here. It involves a couple of little statues that she packed along,
food, weird pasty stuff I can't identify, incense, and some other things she
pulled out of a small bag, and she sort of mumbles quietly for a while in
Sanskrit or something. She said it was the bare minimum required for the
short version. It seemed pretty complicated to me, and she got water all
over, but it made her a lot happier and easier to deal with.

Sari's supposed to call her boss tonight and get the details on the press
conference tomorrow. She and Byers have been sniping at each other a little,
but not too badly. We're all on edge, and they're trying hard not to get in
each other's face despite the mood -- they do have to share a bedroom.
Langly and Deborah haven't been occupied with each other in nearly the way I
expected them to be either. I think they're both too wired up to be much in
the mood, and they've been going at each other as well, a lot worse than
Byers and Sari. Their sniping is interspersed with profuse apologies and far
more PDA than is appropriate in such crowded quarters. I just bitch at all
four of them. I have to do something with my stress, after all. The one
safety valve I have is the Cardinal. Having him sit in my lap, purring as if
all's right with the world, is calming.

Sari promised to help with some Indian food tonight for dinner. She bought
stuff for it yesterday when we went on our provisioning expedition. Veggie
samosas, chicken curry for the carnivores, raita, Indian spiced basmati
rice, potato-stuffed cherry peppers, and saag paneer are on the menu, along
with chai and sweet lassi, and everyone even seems satisfied with the idea.
Most of it's pretty hearty stuff, and very tasty. I've had everything we're
making except those stuffed cherry peppers, which she assures me has made
even her potato-loathing friend enjoy the tubers. I'm looking forward to
getting a new recipe, particularly from a cook as good as Sari.

Byers has managed to stay away from eye work today, with the exception of
one hour spent trying to catch up on email. Everyone's been on his ass about
it. It doesn't make him happy, but he knows he can't escape, and we know he
really does want his normal vision back. Deborah's been telling him horror
stories about unsuccessful recoveries, and it's scaring him into compliance.

I hope we get through this without killing each other.

THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 2000
8:00 AM

BYERS:

Everyone is up, and we're getting things packed to head back to DC before we
sit down to breakfast and do the final dishes. Sari and Nicole's conference
is supposed to be at 2:30 this afternoon. We're going to have to get in
touch with Devi and Nicole just before we leave to let them know when to be
ready, and to arrange Nicole's transfer. Mulder and Scully are meeting us at
the Hoover building with an armored van to carry everyone to the site. We
can leave our van there, where Skinner says he'll have people keeping an eye
on it so the NSA doesn't get their hands on our stuff. Mulder said that
Major Monroe is in custody, but there's a massive battle going on about who
gets to keep him and whether we and Sari and Nicole are wanted on national
security violations charges, and nobody knows if Monroe's goons are going to
attempt an assassination when we're back in town and vulnerable. Sari did
her puja this morning at dawn. She was quiet, but I didn't sleep well, and
just got up when she did to give her some privacy. She did her yoga after
that, out on the back porch, as though everything was normal. I don't know
how she's managing to stay so calm.

Frohike is driving everyone insane issuing orders, the Cardinal is hiding
somewhere under the furniture, Deborah and Langly are complaining about
needing coffee, and Sari is silently packing her things and helping haul
equipment out to the van. "Are you holding out okay?" I ask her.

She nods. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answers, but her voice is tired and
stressed. 

She doesn't have her hands full at the moment, so I offer her a hug. "Come
here." She leans into me and we put our arms around each other. She's
trembling slightly, a thing I didn't notice when I looked at her. She must
be terrified. "I'll be with you the whole time," I tell her. She's already
dressed in her suit for the press conference, basic black pants and blazer
with a white silk shirt. Around her neck she's wearing a clear crystal mala,
strung with a red cord and tassel. At her wrist, over the cast, is the
silver cuff she's been wearing constantly the last few days. It's all very
conservative, and carries a look of confidence and authority.

"I'm sorry I've been such a bitch the past couple of days, John," she says.
"I wasn't angry with you, I'm just very afraid, and it's hard to be together
when I feel that way."

I stroke her hair and speak quietly to her. "I've been a real pill myself.
It's not your fault. We've all been on edge, and it takes its toll on
everyone. You've been doing really well, actually. I can't tell you not to
be afraid, but like I said, I'm here and I'll be with you the whole time.
We'll get through this."

She looks up and kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you, John, it really helps.
You've been so good to me through all of this. I wish... I wish there was
something I could do to thank you properly."

"It's all right," I tell her. Now she has seen us with our backs against the
wall, and she's getting through it like a champ. "I don't need any thanks. I
just need to be sure you're all right." She sighs and gives me a final
squeeze, then goes back to her work. I wish Susanne had been more like this.
We might still be together. I go back to my unwiring project.

SAME DAY
WASHINGTON, DC
1:18 PM

BYERS:

Everything's been reasonably smooth so far. Aside from the flat tire, the
return trip was uneventful. We met Mulder and Scully only about 15 minutes
late at the Hoover Building, got the boxes of press packets that Scully put
together to hand out, and now we're at the designated rendezvous to pick up
Nicole. It's a non-descript diner in a quiet backwater neighborhood, and
Sari, Devi and Nicole have spent the last ten minutes crying and hugging
each other, each assuring the others that they're fine, they're holding
together, and everything's going to be all right. Then we get down to the
pre-conference discussion. Nicole needs to be updated with the information
from the FBI lab tests. We talk for about fifteen minutes about the details
that will need to be covered at the conference, then Scully describes the
Wildfire organism to Nicole.

"Yes," Nicole says, "that really is a nasty one. I had no idea what we were
working with, they always kept it from us. We'd run the lab processes,
compile statistics, take field samples, all that, but there was no real way
for me to actually analyze the material itself without compromising myself
far too much."

Sari nods. "Everything you've done has been vital work, Nicole. We could
never have exposed all this without you. I'm so glad you'll be with me for
this. After the conference, I'm sure the FBI will set you up in the witness
protection program." Agent Scully nods and takes Nicole's hand.

"We've already got it set up. You'll have a whole new life, a new identity,
and a new job that will be safe for you."

"Thank you, all of you," Nicole says. "Especially you, Devi." She looks at
Sari's sister and smiles. "You've been so kind and generous to let me stay
in your home. I felt very safe there.

"I loved having you," Devi says. "You're welcome to come back anytime and
visit. And if you can swing it, maybe you'd like to visit me in Sri Lanka
some day?"

Nicole looks genuinely delighted. "Oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea,
I'd love it!"

"It's time we got going," Mulder says. "We need to be at the site on time so
you'll be ready for the cameras."

We all pack up the papers and diagrams, and Devi picks up the tab. Mulder
brings the armored van around to the sidewalk in front of the door. Scully
keeps a watchful eye as Mulder opens the side door of the van, and Langly
and Deborah start the procession, hurrying for the vehicle. It may not be
over quite yet, but I think we're going to be all right. As we walk through
the diner door to the sidewalk, Sari just in front of me, I hear the sharp
snap of gunfire. Oh my God, no.

End part 22

Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 23 of 24 by Erynn and Sally
______

"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned"

~~William Butler Yeats -- The Second Coming~~
______

THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 2000
WASHINGTON, DC
1:53 PM

BYERS:

As I hear the crack of the gun, Sari is slammed back into me, screaming,
dropping us both to the ground. We hit the wall as we fall, and I try to
cover as much of her as I can from the gunfire. We're too exposed. She's
been hit, and she's moaning, but she's lying still beneath me. All I can
think is she's not dead, she's not dead, but I have no idea how badly she's
hurt. Another shot rings out, and several more. I hear one hit the wall, too
close. With a slight turn of my head, I see that the bullet struck less than
an inch from my skull, and there's no room in me now for anything but
terror.

LANGLY:

Deb and I are almost to the van when we hear the shots. I grab her arm and
drag her down to the sidewalk with me, taking cover behind the rear tire of
the van. We'll probably be safe long enough for Mulder and Scully to do
something. I scan the scene fast. The fibbies already have their guns out,
and they're looking around, like trying to spot the shooter. Frohike dives
for cover, but Nicole freezes, panicked. "Run, dammit!" I shout, but it's
too late. She takes a bullet in the chest and crumples without a sound. Deb
screams and tries to get up and go to Nicole, but I won't  let her. No way
I'm gonna let her get shot in this mess. I've gotta keep her safe. She'll
leave me when this is over, but at least she'll be alive to do it.

MULDER:

Damn. I'm scanning the rooftops as Scully sweeps the street for potential
snipers. The people on the street are hitting the sidewalk, taking cover, or
running into buildings as fast as they can. "There he is!" I shout, taking a
shot at our would-be assassin.

FROHIKE:

The gunfire snaps me to total alert. I'm back in 'Nam in a heartbeat, and
move with the reflexes I had when I was just a twitchy kid in the jungle.
I've been nervous and hyper-vigilant since we fled the office, but now all
my senses are at their height. I can smell the blood, and without thinking,
I run for Nicole and drag her toward the van. You never leave your people
down under fire if you can help it. "Deborah, Langly, help me get her
inside!" The two lunge for her, pulling her out of the line of fire and
getting her onto the floor of the van, where Deb starts a fast damage
assessment. Byers and Sari are helpless and exposed where they are. They'll
both be killed if that sniper gets off another shot or two. Hang on, Byers.
I can't lose you, not like I lost my kid brother, back in the jungle in '65.

BYERS:

Another shot rings out, striking the sidewalk next to me. That was too damn
close. I'm going to die. Somehow I always knew it would come to this. One
high, one low -- the next one will hit me; the sniper has me. I just hope
that the mass of my body is enough to keep Sari from being hit again. Scully
shouts "Byers, get Sari to the van! We'll cover you." I don't need any more
urging. As their pistols fire, I drag Sari to her feet with me. Once she's
upright, she begins running for the vehicle of her own accord. I'm trying to
keep her head down and shield her as we move. It's only a few feet, but
right now it feels like the Appalachian Trail.

DEBORAH:

Nicole's been hit bad. If I can keep her going, she might make it to the ER
in time. God, I'm scared. I've never been so scared in my life. I only half
believed the guys about the danger until yesterday, when I saw how they
reacted to Mr. Skinner's arrival at the beach house, but even that didn't
drive the point home like this. I'm moving frantically to rip open Nicole's
shirt so I can get to the wound. Frohike has her head cradled in his lap.
She's gurgling, bleeding profusely, and bloody foam is gathering at her
lips. Looks like a solid lung shot, arterial bleeding. No sign of
consciousness. "Ringo, I need your shirt." He pulls the 'speed saves' shirt
I gave him off his body in record time. "Hold it to the wound as hard as you
can, you have to stop the bleeding," I tell him, and put one ear to her
chest to listen to her lungs. God, it's worse than I thought, and there's no
first aid equipment in immediate reach. Just then, Byers and Sari stumble in
almost on top of us as I'm trying to clear Nicole's airway. "Watch it!" I
snap at them.

"Sari's hit," he says breathlessly. She looks pretty pale and she's
obviously in pain, but I don't see blood. Wonder where she took the bullet.
If she's moving like that, it can't be too bad, but then, I've seen people
do impossible things in the depths of the adrenaline rush.

"Okay, I'm okay," she says, then she sees Nicole and wails, and she's right
here taking Langly's place so he can scuffle for the first aid kit in the
back storage unit. Byers is crouched behind Sari, a hand on her back. He's
about as freaked as I am. The only thing that's holding me together right
now is that I have a patient to save. There's shouting everywhere. I can't
make out who's saying what, but I think that the FBI agents are calling for
backup and an ambulance.

LANGLY:

Oh, God, she's shot. Don't puke, man, don't puke.

MULDER:

The shooter ducks as we cover Byers and his friend. I'm off after him as
fast as I can run, shouting to Scully to call for backup. Devi didn't even
get out of the building before the shooting started, and I haven't seen her
since, so I think she's still inside the diner. I hope so. She'll probably
be safe if she avoids the urge to rubberneck, and she's away from the
windows. The building across the street is only about three stories, and I'm
pretty sure I can cover the back exit before the shooter gets all the way to
the ground floor. Scully will be able to observe the front entrance from
where she is.

SCULLY:

I can hear the commotion in the van. I'd be in there helping Nicole myself,
if I didn't have to stay here and cover for Mulder as he charges across the
street. When he yells for backup, I hit the emergency button on my cell
phone and request backup and an ambulance. From the looks of Nicole when she
hit the ground, she's going to need one. I have no idea of Sari's condition,
only that she made it to the van on her own two feet. It's the only positive
thing about this whole damn situation.

SARI:

I'm hit, I know it, but I don't know why I'm still alive. My cast arm is
screaming with pain, but Nicole is down, and it doesn't look good. When
Deborah starts up CPR, John holds the cloth to Nicole's bloody wound while I
start on respiration. Deborah manages the cardiac portion. She's counting
out frantically while I breathe in the right places. Frohike's hovering
anxiously. I don't know how long we can keep this up. Stay with us, Nicole,
please.

DEBORAH:

I hear the sirens as help arrives. We're still doing CPR on Nicole, but
there's no response whatsoever. It's possible the medics can revive her with
the defibrillator, but it's been almost five minutes now. I have a very bad
feeling about this. The amount of blood she's lost looks fatal. We've all
taken turns breathing for her, but we're exhausted. Where the hell are the
medics? There's more gunfire and shouting, and finally the ambulance crew
arrives. "She needs a defib, plasma, and saturated saline, stat!" I shout at
them. They look at me. "I'm a doctor dammit, *move*!" They do. One comes in
and gets the details of Nicole's condition from me while the other runs for
the equipment. He comes back again in short seconds that I swear feel like
hours, pushing the equipment on a gurney.

They go into their routine like smoothly oiled machinery, as we all move
back to give them room. Sari's curled up into herself between the front
seats, crying, and Byers is holding her, rocking her gently back and forth.
After our work, she's got blood all over her, and I have no idea how much of
it's hers. "Sari, let me look at you." I'm in the van again through the
front passenger door, giving her a once-over as best I can in the awkward
space.

"It hit my arm," she says, cradling the arm that's already cast. The plastic
stuff we use now would never have stopped a bullet, but when I see the
condition of the bracelet on her wrist, I understand what happened. She'll
need x-rays, but I don't think the bullet ever got past the metal cuff. It's
mangled where the bullet hit, deflecting it so that it didn't enter her
body. The impact may have shattered her wrist, though; it certainly damaged
the cast. We won't know until later. Thank God she likes heavy jewelry, or
she might be in Nicole's condition.

As I look up, I realize that there's blood in Byers' hair. "Lean over here,
John," I tell him. A quick exam reveals that he's got a few small cuts from
flying shrapnel. Must have been too close to where the bullet struck. He's
all right, thank you God. He won't even need stitches, just a little cleanup
and disinfectant.

The medics continue their work, and I return to help them, but with each
successive charge of the defibrillator, more hope dies. "Damn you, Nicole,
come back!" I scream. I can't lose her, this is too important. She's got a
press conference. She has a new life waiting for her. I'm a good doctor;
I've saved so many lives, so many stupid fucking goober guys who get
themselves hurt in unspeakably ridiculous ways -- why does someone whose
life means something, like Nicole, have to be the one to die? When the
medics declare her dead, all I can do is sob.

PRESS CONFERENCE
HILTON-REGENCY HOTEL
WASHINGTON, DC
2:36 PM

BYERS:

We rush into the building, Mulder, Scully and Frohike hauling the boxes of
press packets. The building is crawling with security. Langly has an arm
around Deborah, who's barely functional. They're going straight to the green
room to get cleaned up and rest, if Frohike has anything to say about it.
Sari's boss meets us at the door. "Where ha..." He stops when he sees that
Sari is covered with blood. "Oh my God. Are you alright?"

"No," Sari says, and keeps walking, so her boss leads us all back to the
green room, where the stage manager is waiting, looking frantic.

She almost panics when she sees the blood on Sari as well, but all she says
when she sees Sari's face is, "Come this way. Everyone's waiting."
Assistants scurry to gather the boxes and run to get the packets out to the
waiting press. The tall, blonde woman approaches the podium, situated before
a large Sierra Club logo. "Our speakers have arrived. We're very sorry for
the delay, but now we can begin. The Sierra Club would like to welcome Ms.
Sarasvati Thomas and Dr. Nicole Jackson." The room rustles and mumbles, and
Mulder and Scully walk onstage, guns exposed but not drawn, flanking Sari
and me. Silence cuts the room abruptly when she approaches the mike,
clothing soaked in blood. My own is as well, but it's far less noticeable on
my suit jacket than it is on Sari's brilliant white shirt. I'm sure we
present a suitably dramatic tableau.

Sari is terribly shaken, but I've never seen anyone more steeled for a
public speaking engagement. "Members of the press, good afternoon. My name
is Sarasvati Thomas. I am a lobbyist for the Sierra Club." She looks like
hell, but her voice is clear and strong, if quiet, with only a hint of
tremor. "My... my long-time friend and associate, Dr. Nicole Jackson,
formerly of Pinck Pharmaceuticals, is unable to join me as planned." Her
voice nearly breaks, but Sari's determined to get through this. "She was
assassinated half an hour ago, to prevent her from speaking to this
assembly, and an attempt was made on my own life at that time as well. In
Dr. Jackson's place, I have asked Special Agent Dr. Dana Scully of the
Federal Bureau of Investigation to join me in describing the medical and
chemical details of the information we will be presenting. Also speaking
will be Mr. John Fitzgerald Byers of Aegis Consulting, on the relevant facts
concerning acts of computer espionage and sabotage regarding this matter."
Compared to what I've already been through today, a little public
presentation won't even register. I'm here to address the matter of Black
Widow's identity and activities without revealing my own or my partners'
role in the matter. "What I bring before you today is a matter of the utmost
urgency, and involves a knowing, willing conspiracy between Pinck
Pharmaceuticals, elements within the Department of Defense and the United
States Military, the World Trade Organization, and factions within the
Republic of Indonesia..."

HILTON-REGENCY HOTEL
WASHINGTON, DC
4:00 PM

FROHIKE:

Langly and Deborah have been back here with me during the conference.
Deborah has been alternately watching the conference on the monitor and
pounding herself for losing Nicole. Langly's tried to talk to her, but
Deborah insists that she should have been able to save her. I've tried
talking to her as well, but she ignores both of us, inconsolable.

Sari, Byers and our fibbies are finally away from the hounds. Sari is on the
verge of collapse, and Byers looks like he's not far behind. The conference
stunned the assembled press and media drones, but with all the documentation
provided in the press packets, no one can deny what's happened. The
information is too widely available now to suppress entirely. Nicole's voice
may have been silenced, but her knowledge has been shared, as was her
intent. Sari, Byers and Agent Scully revealed everything about Wildfire; the
secret DoD-commissioned experimentation on an American civilian population,
Black Widow's exploits covering for the DoD's project and his identity as an
Air Force officer and National Security Agency operative, the off-shore WTO
agreement between Pinck and Indonesia to commit genocide as a 'field test',
the role of the County Extension Office and the Andover Community Medical
Center in collecting data on miscarriages and fetal and infant neurological
damage, the distribution of Wildfire through the groundwater, Nicole's role
in revealing the plan, all of it.

Sari barely made it through the conference, and under the circumstances,
even this bunch of sharks didn't descend on her over the sharp, brief cracks
in her composure. I think the blood all over her was sufficiently exploitive
and entertaining for them to stay away from her personal grief and shock. It
was entirely obvious that she'd come directly to the conference from the
scene of the shooting, and no one was going to make a single comment about
her showing up late. At least none of the flunkies were insensitive enough
to ask her how she was feeling.

"Sari, we need to get you to a hospital now," Scully tells her. "You need to
have x-rays to determine how much damage was done when you were hit." Sari
just nods. She's sitting on the green room couch, silent and shaking
violently, with Byers wrapped around her protectively. "You're also in
shock, and you need to be treated for that." I think we're all in shock.
Langly still doesn't have a shirt on. We'll have to get him one soon.

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
5:17 PM

BYERS:

After an excruciating wait in the ER, someone is finally examining Sari. I'm
staying with her, at her request. While she's examined, an intern swabs the
cuts on my scalp. It stings, but it's far preferable to what would have
happened if the bullet had been an inch lower. I'm still shaking. I pull my
blood-soaked suit jacket around me for warmth, and my finger gets stuck in
the cloth. I look down, because there's no pocket or button hole there, and
I don't know why my finger should... oh my God, it's a bullet hole. The shot
that hit the sidewalk next to me was a hell of a lot closer than I realized.
Suddenly, I'm dizzy and it's a good thing I'm sitting, or I'd fall to the
floor. Sari gasps, "John, what's wrong?" and the doctor and the intern have
got me and lay me down on the examination table.

"Get him some warm blankets," the doctor says, and the intern runs out of
the room. "What happened? How do you feel?" he asks. I can't make the words
come out, so I just hold up my hand, finger through the bullet hole. He gets
the picture. Sari is next to me in a heartbeat, but the doctor puts her back
on the table she's been lying on. "He's fine," he assures her, "he's just in
shock. He's not seriously injured, and he'll be fine. You're the one we need
to worry about." I watch through a feeling of unreality as he pries the cuff
bracelet from where it's been wedged into her cast, and then the intern
returns and starts wrapping me in warm blankets. God, I'm so cold, so dizzy.
The next thing I know, Sari's gone, and someone's stuck an IV in my hand.

"Sari, where is she?" I ask.

"We sent her for x-rays, Mr. Byers," the doctor replies. "We have to
determine how much damage was done to her arm, wrist, and hand, and whether
the impact of the bullet re-injured the break she sustained last month. We
also want to be certain that she didn't break a rib when the force of the
blow hit her chest. They'll take good care of her, and she'll be back soon.
For the moment, you need to relax and rest for a while so that you can get
over the shock." They aren't going to let me move, so I stay where I am. I'm
not sure I could stand up at this point anyway, and it would be too
undignified to fall on my face.

Some time later, an aide comes in, bringing Sari in a wheelchair. Her cast
has been removed, and her arm is a mess, swollen and purple-black. I prop
myself up on an elbow. "John, are you all right?" She looks like she's in an
incredible amount of pain. I sit up and offer her a hand, my dizziness
considerably reduced.

"I think I should be asking you that question," I tell her.

"I'll leave you two here until the doctor returns from reading the x-rays,"
the aide says, then leaves the room. Sari gets up, then sits on my exam
table and leans into me. I put my arms around her as she holds me close.
We're both shaking and crying, clinging each other. We're alive. I don't
know how it happened, but we're alive.

I'm not sure how long the wait is, but eventually the doctor returns. He
gives me a quick once-over. "Youre looking much better, Mr. Byers. I think
you'll be just fine. Let's remove this IV, and you can go whenever you want
to."

"I'd like to stay here with Sari," I tell him. Sari nods.

"Ms. Thomas, the x-rays show that your arm has been re-broken by the force
of the impact. Your wrist is shattered, and there's a lot of damage to your
hand as well. It's going to require surgery to put everything back together
enough for it to heal. We'll need to insert pins in several places, and the
small bones in your hand and wrist will make this a long and somewhat
difficult procedure. There is some chance that you won't regain full
function in your right hand, but I understand that you're a faithful
practitioner of yoga and you exercise regularly?" Sari nods. "That will help
a great deal, particularly because it means your joints are very flexible to
begin with, and you're in very good general health according to your
records. The good news is that you didn't sustain any broken ribs or other
injuries."

"How long is the surgery likely to last?" she asks.

"Depending on the complexity of what we find when we go in, anywhere from
four to six hours, possibly more if there are complications." Sari looks
down at the floor.

"That sounds like a very long time to be under anesthesia," she says. The
doctor nods.

"But do keep in mind that we perform lengthy surgeries on a regular basis,
and unlike most people undergoing such long procedures, you're young and
quite healthy. We'll need you to sign releases, of course, and get you into
prep." He's being as gentle with her as he can under the circumstances, but
it's still very stressful. I'm not sure how much more she can take before
she just passes out. The doctor looks at me and says, "I'm going to have to
ask you to join your friends in the waiting area, Mr. Byers. We need to
start prep now, and she can sign the papers while that's going on." She
looks distressed, but the doctor is very insistent, and has one of the
orderlies escort me out -- unwillingly, I might add -- to join the rest of
the crew in the waiting room.

When I appear, everyone starts talking at once -- how is she, what's
happening, is she going to be all right -- and it's all I can do to get them
to shut up while I try to answer them. Langly's finally got a sweatshirt,
Devi has arrived with her husband and son, and A.D. Skinner is here, as well
as the guys, Deborah, and Agents Mulder and Scully. It's turned into a
circus.

"Her arm's broken again, same place apparently, she's got a shattered wrist
and hand, and they're taking her into surgery shortly. The doctor said
something about inserting a bunch of pins. They tossed me out, or I'd still
be in there with her." This starts another uproar.

"How long?" Devi asks, winning out over the others' voices.

"The doctor said it could be anywhere from four to six hours, maybe more," I
answer.

"Byers, c'm'ere," Frohike says, patting the empty chair beside him "come sit
down, you look like shit." I feel like shit. "I was afraid you weren't gonna
make it, pinned down out there on the sidewalk," he says quietly as I join
him. "Scared the crap out of me." He puts an arm around my shoulders. I put
one around his back.

"I didn't think I was either. Look at this." I show them all the bullet hole
in my jacket, just over the back end of my pocket near my ribs. Langly comes
over and puts his arms around me too. I think it's only their closeness that
keeps me from falling apart entirely. I'm so lucky to have these guys for
friends. "God, I love you guys," I whisper. I don't think I've ever told
them that. "I was so damn scared. I thought I was dead."

"You're okay, Johnny, you're okay. We love you too," Langly says, his voice
cracking. All three of us lose it then, but hearing those words helps, more
than I can say.

End part 23


Things Undone 5: Snipe Hunt, part 24 of 24 by Erynn and Sally
______

"After each war
somebody has to clean up,
put things in order,
by itself it won't happen"

~~Wislawa Szymborska -- End and Beginning~~
______

THURSDAY, APRIL 9, 2000
GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
6:35 PM

FROHIKE:

We're all huddled in a tight knot: me, Byers, Langly. I'm so grateful to be
able to touch them and feel them alive and breathing that I could almost
promise to overlook how annoying they can be sometimes... almost. We're all
teary and laughing and just rejoicing in the fact that we're all here. Dan
Rather once said, after the '94 quake in California, that there were certain
things that are important to people -- provided the center holds. Today, our
life was blown straight to hell in a million tiny shards, but the center
remains: we have each other. "Man," Langly's voice is thick with tears that
don't flow, but manage to clog his voice, "can you like believe we're not
dead?" We laugh, more from hysteria than anything else. "Don't think I was
ever so fucking scared in my entire life. Not in Vegas, not Baltimore, not
Lombard, nothing."

"I was," I say, very softly.

Byers and Langly eye me quizzically. "Like when?" This time, Langly is
genuinely curious.

I hesitate. "I was in 'Nam, as you guys know."

Langly says, "Like that's a big secret?" Byers actually laughs a thin laugh
at that one. That brings me enormous relief, simply to see him smile a bit,
but my relief doesn't last.

"Only on Mars," I say to them, but to be honest, I don't feel much like
kidding around. This is hard for me. I've never told anyone about this, not
even my oldest drinking buds, the guys who were in country. Hell, I never
even told Skinner, and we've talked a hell of a lot about the war. "But
knowing that wouldn't tell you what it was like for me." There are military
records, of course, but there would be no way to discover the fullness of
this unless you crawled inside my head, and I've been loathe all my life to
let people to do that. It's why I talk to other vets, not shrinks. They
know. They've been there.

"What happened?" Byers asks, very softly, his voice almost a whisper.

Oh Christ, where do I begin? I look at him. God, I was so afraid of losing
him, he's my family, like a son, or... a younger brother. They both are, but
out there on the sidewalk... "Today... when you and Sari were pinned down in
the open, bullets everywhere... it was... it was like when I was in 'Nam and
my kid brother Josh..." Both of them turn pale. "We were caught in an
ambush, and he was under heavy fire just across the clearing. He hit the
dirt, and I tried to get to him, but I couldn't. He... he was shot while he
was huddled against a tree, trying to find cover... calling for me until he
lost consciousness. I let him down... I... I couldn't get to him. He died
out there, ten feet away, because I couldn't get to him. I'll never forgive
myself for it." Both the guys are stunned, silent. "And today I just kept
praying, please, don't let them get hit, don't let them get hit..." I
realize I'm weeping as I speak. I'm embarrassed, ashamed of my failure, of
my brother's death, but the guys are deeply sympathetic, shocked; caring,
not scornful. Byers takes my hand in his.

"Mel... I'm so, so sorry. There was nothing you could have done," Byers says
gently.

"It doesn't make me feel any less guilty."

Langly gets his in. "What were you supposed to do, get both of you killed?
Was that gonna be better? Jesus, Fro, you'd a done that, you wouldn't be
around bugging us today, and like where the hell would that leave us?"

"Maybe better off than you are," I say sadly, knowing it's true.

Langly's not having it. "Frohike, man, if it wasn't for you, I'd be a total
waste case. I wouldn't be doing anything worthwhile, nothing."

Byers perks up a little. "You mean you are now?" He pokes Langly in the
ribs. "You know I'm just kidding," he adds quietly.

Langly smiles his crooked smile. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but it's the truth.
Like, we need you, Melvin, you keep us totally together, you got no idea how
much."

"Mel, I wouldn't have been able to survive the last few months without you,"
Byers says, his voice tender and sincere. I doubt that very much, from
either of them, but it feels good to hear it. Maybe someday the nightmares
about Joshua's death will fade, won't hurt so much, but not now, not anytime
soon. The good thing is, I've got these two, and I can't tell you how much
they mean to me. They say they'd be lost without me. Not half as lost as I'd
be without them.

LANGLY:

Sari's off to surgery. Byers looks as if somebody stabbed him through the
heart when they take her away. Yeah, he and Sari may not be that way now,
but one of these days, it's gonna cap him on the ass, just the way Deb did
me. Seemed like she was the same way for me, but after today, I just don't
know. "You two should get a hotel room, call it a night," Frohike says to
us.

"I'm not going anywhere 'til she gets out of surgery," Deb says to him, a
little sharp around the edges.

"They said it's gonna be a long one," Frohike reminds us.

"Well, duh! They gotta put a ton of pins in her wrist, make sure she hasn't
got any embolisms working." Deb forgets we don't know as much as she does,
although in view of our experiences, Mulder's, Scully's, and our own, we
know a lot more than we want to. I keep thinking, this is it, soon as Sari
gets out of surgery, Deb's history. Who the hell could blame her? This isn't
any kind of life for a good person like Deb to be getting involved in. I was
so fucking selfish, bringing her down here like this. Selfish like I always
am. If I really cared about her, I'd have told her to run like hell and get
away from me as fast as she could. "Ringo," she taps me on the arm, "I need
to talk to you." Oh boy. Here it comes. I can already feel the tears
starting to sting. I make myself breathe in hard as we head for the vending
room.

"Hey, bring me one!" Frohike shouts after us. I think that's what he said.
It's like the room is swimming. Well, when you know the big kiss-off is
coming, what the fuck's it supposed to feel like?

We each buy some hideous brown stuff that passes for coffee around here.
"Let's go find one of the family rooms," she suggests. I think she means one
of those little private waiting rooms where they send people when the docs
have to tell them someone's gonna die. Well, this is like the same thing,
isn't it? Deb can maneuver her way around here pretty good -- well, she is
gonna be working here. That'll hurt even worse, knowing she's in town and
knowing she and me can't be together. She sits down and looks at me, her
eyes all sad. Shit, here it comes. "Ringo, I'm really sorry," she says, not
looking at me now.

"For what?" For leaving me? Seems like a weird thing to say.

"For not believing you about how dangerous your life is. I was like, he's
exaggerating."

"Well, I'm not."  I can't look at her.

"No, and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." She takes my hand. I look up.

"Can't blame you." What sane person would believe it?

"And I'm really sorry about Nicole." Now she's got tears in her eyes again.
I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Oh Jesus, Deb, haven't like four paramedics and at least five docs told you
that you couldn't have done any more than you did?"

"I know, but it doesn't feel that way. I'm just so... so... mad!" She's
trying not to let the tears leak out, but it's not working.

"People die in your line of work. And in mine." Sad and too damn scary, but
true.

"I keep wondering if I'm really cut out for this," she says. I was wondering
when she was gonna get to that. Who would be cut out for this life? Hell, we
live it and we aren't even close to cut out for it. I just nod at her. "I
mean, I can't get used to losing patients, Ringo. I'm a wreck every time I
lose one. I know I have to get used to it, but I just can't!" Okay, wait a
minute, are we having two different conversations here?

"Maybe you're not supposed to."

"But how am I ever gonna be a good doctor if I can't get past that?"

"You already are, babe."

"I don't feel like one. I don't feel like the tough professional woman I'm
supposed to be, either. I feel like a scared little girl, and I want my
mother."

"I feel that way a lot." Not that I want my mother, but that I want to be
safe, have somebody to run home to and tell me it'll be all right. "All the
time, really, 'cept when I'm with you." I feel like I'm pleading for my life
here. In a way I am.

"How do you live with it?" she asks.

"I... I dunno. Having the guys helps, but... I dunno." I feel like my chest
has turned to lead. "What about you?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. I try to do the right thing, Ringo."

"I know, you do it. We try, too."

"I'm scared, Ringo. I'm scared that... after today, now I know what it means
to be with you."

"Well, can't blame you for not sticking around."

She looks up at me with her eyes blazing hard green. "Who said anything
about not sticking around? I didn't say I wasn't sticking around. I'm saying
I have to find a way to deal with all this stuff. That's not the same
thing." She shakes her hair. "Guys. They are so thick." Well, excuse me, but
I resemble that remark. She stares at me. "You think I was just gonna pack
it in and run off? Hey, I still cry myself to sleep at night over not saving
people, but did I say anything about quitting medicine? Forget it. And same
goes for you."

I'm a little confused here, so let me make sure I'm getting it right. "You
mean... you're gonna stay with me?"

"Ringo, two nights ago, I told you I loved you. I meant it." I take her
hands in mine and hold them hard. God, she is so damn special. What did I
ever do to deserve someone this special? Don't answer, I know. The answer
is, nothing. I just got lucky.

"I love you, too, Deb." I really do.

"Ringo, when I crashed on you five minutes after I got in your door, I was
positive that you were gonna kick me out the next morning, but you didn't.
When I got all bent out of shape over Sari being a hugger, I thought you
were gonna say, this isn't worth it. But you didn't. And when I couldn't
save Nicole..."

I pull her in close. "Hey, I know you tried, we all do. Especially me."

"Really?" She blinks up at me.

"Remember what you told me the other night, when I fucked up the hack? Shit
happens. This comes under that heading, I think."

"It's very bad shit to lose a patient."

"It's even worse to lose someone you love."

"Well, you don't get off that easy, Ringo Langly." She's got this smile
coming through her tears. I just hold her close and kiss her, real soft.
"You're stuck with me."

"I can handle being stuck," I murmur into her hair, and rub my hand down her
back. As long as it's like this, bring out the glue; Super Glue would be
best. "Deb, man, when the bullets started flying, I was like so freaked
something was gonna happen to you, and then I didn't know what I was gonna
do... I'm like just so glad you're alive and okay."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing," she says, running her fingers under
the edge of my sweatshirt. I love the way her hands feel.

"I guess great minds think alike," I laugh, and she even laughs a little
with me.

"Or at least equally insane minds," she giggles. Well, that too.

"So you're still gonna be here in June? And we're gonna be together?" I need
to hear it from her.

She shakes her head. "Hello! What did I just tell you?"

"I wanna hear it again."

"I love you, Ringo." The nicest words I ever heard. I don't ever think I can
hear them enough. I don't think anyone can. We wander back to where Byers
and Frohike and the gang are all hanging out. Byers has finally changed into
something that's not all bloody from the stuff Skinner brought us.

"Where's my coffee?" Frohike demands. Oops. I like totally forgot.

"Uh... we'll get you some," Deb says, kind of stammering.

He waves us off. "Forget it. Go and get a hotel room. Take care of each
other."

"You mean like now?"

"Did I say sometime in the next millennium? If I didn't, you can assume I
meant now." He shoos us out, and Devi and her family, Mulder, Scully and
Skinner join him. Byers doesn't say anything, but he gives me this ghost of
a smile. Yeah, maybe things'll be all right.


SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 2000
GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY MEDICAL CENTER
SARI'S ROOM
EARLY AFTERNOON

FROHIKE:

Devi and Byers have been staying here with Sari, and the staff rolled a
couple of cots in for them. Byers wouldn't have thought of it, but Devi said
that just because her sister's had surgery doesn't mean they shouldn't all
be at least marginally comfortable. When I arrive, her husband Muladharma
(she calls him Mula) and their son Palin are with them. God, he's a cute
kid; dark skin and black hair, with deep, soft brown eyes, and a broad
smile, just like his dad. Palin is sitting on his auntie's bed, looking
bored, and Sari's trying to tickle him with her good hand, despite the fact
that it has an IV stuck in the back of it.

"Auntie, no! Don't tickle me!" He makes a face at her, and she sticks her
tongue out at him, then he turns his attention to Byers. Sari looks like she
feels terrible, but she obviously doesn't want to disappoint her seven year
old nephew. Byers looks exhausted too, but calmer than yesterday, and way
better than Thursday. He's smiling at Palin as the young boy tries to grab
his beard. Fortunately for Byers, it's too short for that kind of treatment,
and the kid's fingers slide off his chin.

"Ah, good afternoon Mr. Frohike," Mula says.

"Mr. Padmabandhu," I say, offering him a hand while trying desperately not
to trip over my tongue. He shakes my hand then puts his palms together. I
echo the gesture. Wouldn't want to offend a diplomat, particularly one who's
related to Sari and Devi.

Byers and Sari look up at me. "Hi Frohike," Byers says. Devi picks up her
son.

"How are you doing, Sari?" I ask.

Her voice is quiet. "I've been better." Haven't we all?

Devi says, "Mula, beloved, Sari's very tired. Would you take Palin home?"
She kisses him, and he nods, leans over and hugs Sari, takes his son, then
leaves quietly, mumbling his goodbyes. "I'll see you later this evening."

Sari waits until they leave the room and says, "Thanks, Devi. I love him
like crazy, but it's hard to have Palin here when I feel so awful." Devi
nods and rubs her sister's shoulder.

"I know, but he really wanted to see you. We kept it as short as we could.
I'm just glad you're in one piece, more or less." Sari nods and smiles
weakly.

"Skinner came by earlier," Byers says. "He says that the NSA and the Justice
Department won't be pressing charges against any of us." That's certainly a
relief, but let's face it, it would have looked really bad if they defended
the sort of shenanigans Monroe and the DoD were pulling with Pinck as a
'national security issue.' "The FBI's holding him until the trial, but I
doubt he'll be convicted. He's too far inside. He'll be back on the net soon
enough."

"Yeah, but now people know who he is. They'll be gunning for him. By the
way, Mulder and I went house hunting yesterday," I tell him. He moans.

"Oh, God, you didn't let him talk you into another rat-infested, dank,
miserable dump with not enough space, did you?"

I chuckle. "Well, he tried, but I prevailed. We'll start moving in this
afternoon."

"I'm glad you guys found a place so quickly," Sari says. She's got Byers'
hand now, and he holds hers carefully.

"I expect you to stay here with Sari," I tell him. He'd be a wreck if we
tried to get him to work while she's laid up like this. He'd do his best,
but he'd probably be more in the way than anything else right now. "After
Deborah takes off in a couple of hours, Langly and I are going to handle it.
She's got to be back in Harrisburg for her evening shift. Mulder and Scully
will be by to help us."

"Will Deborah come by and see me before she goes?" Sari asks, hopeful.

"That's what they were planning on," I tell her. She smiles.

"That's good. I wanted to thank her for what she did, trying to save Nicole.
I haven't had the chance yet."

"How much time are they giving you for medical leave?" I ask. I know her
boss was here yesterday, and several of her co-workers, and apparently a
flood of her other friends as well, but I was gone with Mulder most of the
day.

"A month," she says. "Devi and I are going to Wichita pretty much as soon as
I get out of the hospital, to be with Nicole's family for the funeral, then
I'll be going to India for a week or so after I stop in Portland to see mom
and dad, and Kris. I really need to go and see my guru, and thank him for
giving me that bracelet. He was right, it did give me protection, in a way I
never would have considered." Byers looks a little stressed, but I think he
knows she needs to do it. "I need to remember the important things in my
life. My work, my friends," she looks at Byers when she says this, "my
family. Thank you for being my friend, Mel. I appreciate you guys so much.
I'm glad I met you; you're a pearl of great price, you know." I'm just
blinking, those aren't tears, really. I sit on her bed and give her a big
hug. She kisses me on the cheek. As I lean back, she smiles at me.

"I just came to check in on you, my dear. You get some rest now," I tell
her. Sari nods. 

"Don't worry," she says, "I will."

"Not to mention that my kitty-boo needs lunch."

"Melvin Frohike, if that cat gains so much as an ounce while you're watching
him, I swear I'll make both of you exercise." Now that's a threat that makes
me twitch. She'd do it, too. As I leave, Byers sits up next to her on the
bed, and Sari curls up in his arms with an exhausted sigh. I'm off to start
packing. We all have a monumental amount of work to do, but the fact is,
we've been given another chance, and if that's not a pearl of great price,
nothing is.

End part 24 of 24

~fin~