Disclaimer in Part 1 susieqla@yahoo.com Thrown Back - 4/18 Washington, D.C. Arlington No. 42 3:49 A.M. It must have been ages since they'd eaten. She wondered when it could have been. The little grubbers weren't swimming all that much. The little they were was far from lively. They must be starving, she assumed. Margot reached for the small container of fish meal on the aquarium's overhanging shelf. She twisted the rotary lid, lifted her hand over the tank and began sprinkling bits of food in the form of flaky shavings. "That's better," she judged aloud, "the little nippers are swimming more energetically enough, now." She sprinkled more food in less cautiously. "How long did you say your friend's been away?" she called to Langly who was in the kitchen, scrounging for something to eat. Her curiosity nudged her eyes around the room, taking in what interested her, which wasn't much. A bit too spartan for her taste, except for the owner's fish. "It's goin' on two weeks now," Langly called back, sounding as though he was talking through bites. "Hey, I'm gonna warm up this left over pizza I found. You want any?" "Sure. Thanks." She gave the brown and yellow dispenser one more good shake before setting it back on the shelf. Looking satisfied, she bade them, "'Bon appetit mes amis,'" watching the tropical pets spiritedly dart to and fro. "Nice of this Mulder person to let you have his key," Margot said, leaning against the door jamb of the kitchen. Don't think he'll mind our helping ourselves?" She leaned against the door frame with folded arms, regarding an occupied Langly finish with the microwave settings. He was too busy trying to get them right to answer. "Did you notice if there are any fixings to make a salad?" Then, as though hearing her for the first time, he answered, and hoped he'd gotten the guesswork right. "Dunno. Didn't notice. Not too big on salads. Help yourself." He indicated the refrigerator with a jerk of his thumb. She noticed some plates in the drainer. She placed them on the countertop, then went to see about the fixings. Their absent host's refrigerator could have stood a good restocking. Aside from a small carton of Tropicana, a bottle of Amstel light, and two eggs rolling around in an improper place in the door, there wasn't much else. She opened the vegetable bin to be disappointed but not surprised. Browning lettuce steeped in its own gummy sludge, one rubbery celery stalk and three dried up carrots were the extent of Mulder's vegetable supply. Next to the orange juice was a single piece of hardened American cheese, topped off with some very green mold; yeech. "I say, your chum seems to be the light eater. Are you sure the pizza's safe for human consumption?" With wide eyes trained on the contents in the microwave, Langly replied, "Mulder's big on ordering in, and take-out. Scully shops for him sometimes." He frowned. "Is it supposed to look like that?" "Like what?" Margot came to inspect what had him looking so puzzled. "Ummm, well, no." She hit 'stop' and removed the pair of slices. "They'll do, though. This is no time to be fussy. I'm starving." "Me too," Langly agreed. "I'm so hungry, I'd eat it even if it were completely pitch black." Mindfully, she poked at the bubbling conglomerations of 'tomatoey' red, marigold yellow, fudgy brown and the charcoal black which clung to the edges of the pepperoni Neopolitan triangles. Donning two oven mits, hanging above and over to the left of the toaster, she whisked the slices to the plates. "I believe this one's yours," she invited, handing him the piece that bore his teeth marks. "Yeah," he confessed and wasted no time biting off the end. "Owww--dammit to hell!" He cursed until he ran out of steam. His complexion went from snowy pale to fire engine red, his cheeks ballooning, his mouth opening and closing rapidly. He gagged the rest of what was in his mouth down. "Shit!" he swore. Gently, he assuaged the burned roof of his tenderized mouth with the singed tip of his tongue. With a pitying eye Margot cooed, "Oh, dear." She hurried to the refrigerator, extracting the Tropicana, and smelled its carton's contents. Nodding, she plucked up a thick- bottomed glass, and poured. "Here, love, drink this." Langly downed the citric liquid in two noisy gulps. "Thanks," he said snuffily, and wanted more, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. Margot got him water then. "You should have blown on it first." She watched him drink it down in one long draught. "Yeah, duh," he said, finally coming up for air, and feeling like a jerk. "Starving, like you said." He set the glass down, then took up their plates and slanted his head in the direction he wanted to go. "Let's eat on the couch. Maybe there's somethin' good on the tube." "Maybe, but at this hour? And I thought--" "He's got cable. Real cool cable." "I thought you were so tired." "I'm okay. C'mon." She looked about, but couldn't spy what she thought they'd need; napkins. "Has he got napkins?" "Dunno. Mulder's not a 'in plain sight' kinda dude." The last of his voice she heard from the living room, where he was already getting comfortable on the couch. She couldn't find any napkins, so she snatched the towel hanging on a rack beside the sink and joined Langly. The living room could have used some housekeeping, she decided before nearing the couch. "No naps?" Langly asked, knowingly, before shoving more pizza into his mouth. He had his stuff strategically positioned on the coffee table Margot noted. He was channel surfing with a remote that looked like it could double for a missile guidance system. "If there are, I don't know where he hides them." She regarded him for a few moments on the stained, saggy couch. "Sci-Fi channel comes through again, bay-bee. Look what's on! This RULES!" What had him so excited? "I thought you said you're exhausted," she felt she had to reiterate. "That was before. I'm pumped. C'mere." He bounced up and down on the couch. "On one condition." "And that is..." "You sit still so the beer doesn't spill." Once she sat beside him, he said with an animation she hadn't heard up until now. "Hey--it's Next Gen.--First Contact. I inhale this flick. Could watch it for breakfast, lunch and dinner." Langly chuckled, remembering how he had watched the tape he owned twenty-four hours straight two months ago. He threw himself back against the couch's worn backrest like an ecstatic fifteen-year old all hopped-up after consuming a case of Mountain Dew. "I gather it's good, then." "You gather right. The Borg Queen's one righteous psycho babe. Man, do I get off on her!" He crammed the rest of his pizza into his mouth, wishing for a whole pie. "You'll dig Picard. You sound just like him." He asked if he could finish off the beer which Margot had just stopped sipping. "By all means. Help yourself." After she handed him the bottle, she said, "Lucky I have a cell phone since you didn't want to use Mulder's phone to call your chums because you said it could be bugged as it had been once before." "Uh, huh... Yeah-right." The cussing-out he'd gotten from Frohike made him wonder if calling them had been the greatest idea. "Whoa." "Something wro--" "AWESOME!!" Langly erupted, caught up in his fervor over the Borg cube's imminent decimation for the umpteenth time. "That is so hyper." "They said they'll be here early tomorrow morning with the equipment required to get into--" "MAN! THAT IS *SO* TOTALLY OVER THE TOP!" he hooted like some crazed sports fan, with the complete and utter demise of the Borg cube. Margot began shifting away from him, startled. A grown man acting so juvenile? What could possibly account for it, she wondered, lobbing curious looks at him. "You returned the phone to my backpack?" Langly was with the crew, as he nodded carelessly with distant eyes which were locked on to every flying object filling the T.V. screen with F/X firepower. "It NEVER gets old..." Margot rolled her eyes, a twinge annoyed. Turning her nose up at the screen, she complained, "Are you listening to me?" It was plain he wasn't; not by a long shot. "Langly?" "CHECK THAT OUT!" "What *time* did they say they'd be here?" On the T.V., fireballs were raining down from the sky. The Enterprise was tearing through the time warp, hurtling toward an Earth that was on a collision course with 'first contact.' The trekkie gulped, light years removed from any current conversation. She did not consider whooping and caterwauling intelligent speech. "*Goodnight*, Richard." Margot rose from the couch stiffly. "Which way's the bedroom?" She was holding her pizza scraps and the empty beer bottle, about to carry them off to the kitchen. Giving Langly several more impatient looks, she made her move for there. "Hey--?" He jerked his eyes off the set. "Where ya goin'?" His eyes widened. "Can I have your crust?" "I'm going to bed," she said, shaking her head. "Unlike you I'm very tired." He made full use of his whine. "Aw, c'mon... Watch this with me?" Margot looked unswayed, but she let him help himself to her scraps. "Like, please?" "I'm not a huge fan of these sort of films," she said with just the right measure of patience. "You like mush, right?" he speculated, chewing rapidly. "Mush?" He sounded garbled. "You know. Chick flicks. Romantic junk; what girls like." Langly slid forward on the couch and removed the empty bottle and cleaned plate from her hands. "Don't go." "'The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie.' Pictures along those lines. That's what I like. Maggie Smith was brilliant...'I am in the business of putting old heads on young shoulders...'" "Sounds diabolical," Langly said, poking fun. "Deftly acted, more's the point." He had her by the wrists now and he tugged a little. "Please? I don't wanna sit here alone. 'Member what you said back at my place? You wantin' company? Be down with it? Even if it's for a little while, and you fall asleep? Okay?" She searched his ungainly face. "Well...I" "That's a yes, right?" "Not exactly." "Say 'yes' exactly. I like you being around," he said simply, unpolished, a genuine appeal. He surprised himself. He let go of her wrists, his shyness calling him to his senses. "Bein' alone sucks..." Smiling a little shyly herself then, she said with a brief touch of her hand to his cheek, "Very well. I'll stay, then." Without another word, she got comfortable against him, patting his restless hands which didn't know what to do with themselves. "Will this do?" "Uh, uh...ye-yeah." He ordered himself to relax, with a deep swallow, telling himself that she wasn't going to bite, he hoped. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? "So, then, what's the premise of this picture?" Draping his arm around her was out of the question; this wasn't a drive-in. His nerve was in the developmental stage. "Well, see, the Borg--" "The Borg? Are they Swedish?" "No way. Those dudes would never be mistaken for Swedes." He pointed at the T.V. "That's them. Butt-ugly, ain't they? With that shit stickin' out of 'em. Their implants." He mimicked their 'call signal' expertly. "'Resistance is futile...'" He felt her quiver against him, and that touched off one of his own. "They get done out of inheriting Earth. The first warp drive flight, courtesy one Z. Cochrane, happens, which paves the way for--" "I," she shut her eyes, re-living a nightmare. "I do-don't think I want to see this." The corridor scene in which Picard and his posse engaged the Borg was unfolding. Margot trembled again, and this time there was no room to wonder whether or not she was 'okay' with this, clearly, she wasn't. Langly's fertile memory skipped ahead then to the scene where the Queen made good on her promise to Data, and the android got his synthetic flesh... Shooting up from the couch, Langly gushed, "Ya-ya know, maybe you're right. We'd better get some sleep for tomorrow." He swooped down over the remote, lying on the coffee table, and switched the set off. "I got the couch. You take the bed." Margot rose then too, looking ill, thoughts of Max accosting her. "You can still watch your movie. I'll close the door to the bedroom." "Yeah, you do that, but I'm gonna sleep too. I really need some." "We can share the bed, if you like. This couch will murder your back." Langly's eyes practically fell out of their sockets. Striving to sound in control, he replied, "I'm used to couches. My back trained on the one back at my place. So, it's dope." He waved her off. "G'on. Get some shut-eye. See ya in the morning." She decided she was too tired to argue, so shrugging she bid him a good-night too. ||oo|| 4:25 A.M. Ominous, glowing shadows with shimmering red pupils loomed. They seemed to leap out at her from every conceivable jail cell. The cell barriers were heavy and drearily opague, and were shot through and through with the same vengeful eyes the lurking phantoms had. There were legions of these monsters... She tried to scream, but failed; kept trying, again and again, although failing to emit any sound. Her mouth was sticky, as though stuck, and her throat felt swollen. Beyond this particular corridor in this tenebrous maze of writhing phantasms with their grotesque grafts peppering their loathsome bodies, resplendent light as dazzling as that of a hundred halogen beacons, beckoned her to freedom. Yet, before she gained a running start, the grisly forms engulfed her, dragging her down into their morass of...she wasn't sure what, and she was horrified all the more. As they dragged her down, she glimpsed the the disembodied head of a man, rising above the twisting nebulae of her terrifying captors. She struggled to scream his name, but couldn't, her voice was intractably imprisoned in the cage of her throat. He was laughing at her, mocking her and her impotence as she drowned in the sea of those foul bodies, defeated. His name exploded in her beset mind as she wrung the blanket in her hands. "GUSTIN--GUSTIN--GUSTIN!" Rolling off the couch, and crashing onto the floor awakened Langly, who then sprang bolt upright, startled out of his wits. Her screams pierced him, and he raced to the bedroom, bumping and colliding into anything in his path on the way like a man on fire. "Wha' the hell? What's the matter! Marg?" She was thrashing violently upon Mulder's bed, still sound asleep. She sobbed and wailed, but didn't wake. Wild-eyed, and fully on red alert, Langly shook her. "Wake up--wake up--hey--wake up!" He stopped trying to wake her, and turned on the nightlight on the nightstand, then resumed getting her to stop. "Gus--Gust--" Margot opened her eyes which looked just as crazed as Langly's. "I-I saw him. I saw Gustin," she whimpered breathlessly. "He had no body. He was just a head. An'--and there were hideous creatures with glowing red eyes all 'round me. The walls had red eyes too--great big ones," she blathered. "They grabbed me, pulled me down with their filthy hands!" "Don't think so," Langly mustered, as reasonably as he could, considering the manner in which he'd been awakened from a sound sleep. But, more gently then he said, "You were dreamin'. Listen to yourself." He scrubbed his face with his right hand, and threw a glance at Mulder's clock-radio for the time. His hand dropped down to his throat which had sounded hoarse. "A-A dream? Bu--" "Get a grip. You were dreamin', Marg, so chill." He sat on the bed, holding one of her trembling hands. "Trust me. You were." "Ar-are you sha...sure?" She sat up then, unable to calm down as easily as he was making she should. "Positive." Talking as though to a child, he continued, "You see him? Or those red-eyed things, anywhere in this room? Does it look like the walls have eyes? Dust mites I'd be willing to bet, but no eyes." She gripped his hand, trying to be reassured. "N-No." "All right." He readjusted his glasses which had slipped down his nose with the hand that was free. "Want anything? Some water? A Nytol? A phaser?" He rolled his eyeballs, feeling cynical up to them. Never shoulda watched that wack flick, he scolded himself....too heavy for her to handle. Now she's totally tripped-out.... Her eyes searched his face. "Some water will do," she said, sounding more in control. He got off the bed, moving away, and she tumbled out after him. "Hey, I'll get it. You stay." "No, I'm going with you..." "Whatever." She followed closely behind him, her hand resting upon his back, and as they emerged from the bedroom she whispered, "I'm not a terribly brave person. I've never been." Langly cracked a smile it was too dark to see in the connector between the kitchen and the bedroom. He wasn't either, but there was no need to tell her that. "You study whales, don'tcha?" "Yes, but that's different. They're tremendous. They're nothing to trifle with, but they're regal creatures, ever noble, fear- inspiring, but not fearsome. They never frighten me, but then again, I've studied their behavior. Gustin, well... He wasn't cruel in the beginning." The bastard, Langly thought, leading them on. "I ain't blaming you for being scared, y'know." "I know." He sighed loud enough for her to hear. "I got issues with bein' afraid sometimes too. Like who don't, huh?" She smiled at his back, and held onto him more securely. He located the nearest light source, and proceeding, they made it to the kitchen with no further discussion. Langly rinsed, then filled the same glass he'd drunk out of earlier, handing it to her. She drank to the halfway point and handed the glass to him. He drained it dry and set it down in the sink, thinking back to when Mulder's water supply had been tainted. Too late now, he rationalized, and looked at Margot, who was looking at him with compelling, trusting eyes. "Okay?" Nodding, she answered, "Uh uh." "Let's try gettin' a little more sleep before my buds roll up. Cool?" "I'll try," she said noncommittally. "Only..." "Only what?" he asked gently. "Come to bed with me? Please?" She took his hand, jiggling it a little. "I think I'd sleep so much better if you were sleeping beside me." You might, he thought, gulping, and recoiling a little from her touch, but will *I*? Candidly, he said, "I-I do-don't think that's such a good--" "*Please*?" With the fingertips of her other hand, she dusted his cheek, then his forehead, moving a wispy tendril aside. Her eyes goading him; those freaky, gorgeous eyes. "Yea-yeah okay. All right. Uh-sure." Flustered and placative at the same time, Langly couldn't move, so Margot jiggled his hand again to get him going. "Sleep," she arched plaintively, "that's all I've in mind..." She smiled at him, reading what she guessed he might be thinking. "Just sleep." "Oh, oh, yeah--right. Wh-what else?" An image chalk-marked by fantasy had popped into his mind, but he chased it off. They yawned in unison, upon entering the bedroom, but Langly thought he'd heard something, so he doubled-back and checked the front door to make sure it was nothing. "Everything all right?" Margot asked upon his return, already under the covers, her head above them like she was in water over her head, the way Langly was feeling, as he looked at her uncertainly. "Thought I heard a noise. It was nothin', though when I looked out into the hallway." She drew back the blanket next to her, waiting for him to join her. "Coming?" His breath bobbled, over the way she had said that. It had sounded like she was flirting, daring him to make a move on her; almost enticing, or was that just him? Would he? Well, under different circumstances.... He shook his head, already knowing the route he always took; the safe one. "I, I'm gettin' there..." "Aren't you going to take off your socks?" "No," he said sharply. "My feet are cold." "If you put them near mine, they'll get warm." ....And that's not the only thing that will, Langly considered, feeling his eyes tighten behind his glasses. He removed his specs, putting them on the night table and guided his hand to the light to turn it off, relieved that he'd get into bed with her under cover of darkness. He wished he hadn't removed his T-shirt which was on the coffee table. He'd removed the T so the 'Ramones' wouldn't get rumpled. Being barechested like this only made him more self-conscious, and nervous beyond words. "Oh, leave it on, won't you?" "Huh?" "The light, might you leave it on?" Looking helpless, Langly nodded, painfully uncomfortable. "Wait." "Why?" He shrugged, realizing he'd already taken off his glasses; they stared at him on the night table. As though testing the waters, he slid in beside Margot, counting to three. Relaxing was out of the question, but with his entire body as stiff as a board, he untensed a little after a few moments. Just when he thought he could handle this, the next thing she requested blew his mind to smithereens. "Hold me?" Appalled, Langly blurted, "NO--I ca-can't!" "Wh-why? What's wrong?" "I ju-just can't, okay?" He shifted his quaking body away from hers, cursing himself for being like this. "I won't take advantage of you, if that's what you're afraid of," she promised. Grumbly, he shot back, "I ain't afraid, I'm just real tired. I wanna get some sleep. Th-thought you did too." Margot said nothing for several unsettled moments. Patiently then, she vocally tip-toed, "I'm sorry, love, for imposing on you like this." "You're *not*," Langly said emphatically, rolling back over. "it's just that...that." "You're not used to this, is that it?" she replied sagely, patting his cheek, her face a study in understanding. He wanted to say that that wasn't it, but there was something in her face that prevented him from telling her that was exactly how it was. "I...well I." Oh, just tell her, and get it over with. "I've ne-never slept with a woman before." "And I've never slept with someone so honest." She scrunched in closer to him. "I wasn't coming on to you when I asked if you'd hold me." "Well, I figured," Langly retorted scornfully, half-wishing she had been, probably dying where he stood if she had. Hearing how bungling this conversation was sounding, he said with false bravado, "You want me to hold ya, I'll hold ya then. No prob. Piece'a cake." He held his arms out to her, his turn to call her on this. "Well, what are you waitin' for? I can do this." "It isn't one of a Greek mythical hero's labors I'm asking of you. If you don't want to, you don't have to." Turning the tables on her now, he re-emphasized, "I can do this, try me." Getting cocky, he insisted, "What are *you* afraid of?" More things than you can possibly imagine, love, but being with you like this isn't one of them, wafted through her mind. "Fine, I shall." So, this was how it felt to have your arms wrapped around a member of the fair sex.... Langly let out a breath he'd held for a long time once she'd gotten settled, her back lodged in his chest. "See, told ya." His body was still quivering, and he was wider awake than he'd ever been in his life. "So you did." "Better?" "Worlds. What about you?" "I-I'm cool, I'm cool," he upheld, although he was sweating to beat the band. She hesitated a moment. "You never got the chance to tell me about yourself." "Didn't get our pancakes or steak 'n' eggs either, but we lived." "Are you really that tired?" "Not so much now," he said truthfully. "Then, tell me about yourself." "Damn, why would you wanna hear my sob story?" And at a moment like this, he thought, beginning to enjoy the feel of her against his bare skin. His arms held her tighter. She smelled great, and felt greater, it nagging him what he'd missed all these years. "Because..." "Because why?" "Because I find you interesting." Langly paced himself. "You do? Ho-how come?" He hoped she knew that was his heart beating almost audibly like that, and not the pounding going on in his brain. ....Breathe deep, dude, real deep....and slow....very slow.... Because cute, geeky types like you secretly turn me on, she thought, dreamily, feeling her- self sink heavily into his tenacious embrace, the way she was feeling making no sense. She hardly knew him, but she couldn't deny that his arms felt delicious around her. How could her falling for Max as hard as she had be explained? He was the farthest cry from being a geek. Well, when he'd been all human, he'd been different. There was something about this boy-man, that she had felt the moment he'd offered her his custom-designed T-shirt. Beneath the juvenile overtures lay a man who hadn't come into his own, yet. "I just do. Will you indulge me?" His breath caught, and this time he thought he might need to use the inhaler they'd been able to pick up for her. "So, uh...where do you want me to start?" "From the beginning, silly." "You'll be way bored, *silly*," he mocked. "Try me," she mocked in kind, saying so the way he had, earlier. Careful how you mean that, he cautioned her to himself. He switched his groin away from her, for embarrassment's sake. "Okay, well..." "Might I ask a tiny question before you begin?" "What's the question?" "Here's my curiosity getting the better of me again." Her sleepy eyes drifted up to the mirrored ceiling. "What sort of man *is* this Mulder?" She was squinting up at their reflections. "Does he have some sort of kinky fascination for the bird's eye view when...well, you know when." Langly willed his waking hard-on to die. "He's, uh, well he's funky that way..." "Really." "Yeah. Least it's what he's led us to believe. Personally? I think he's more talk, nil action." "You don't say..." "I *do* say." He grinned when she patted his left forearm. The delicate wintergreen scent of her hair overpowered him, and he breathed in deeply again. "Okay, begin." Langly hesitated, thinking things over. "Lemme just say that...that, see there's a lotta crap I haven't liked facing about myself." He felt her nod against him. "I'm not a stranger to the club, love." "I'm trying to, but I'm not there yet. I got problems. Drinking heads the list." "Drinking, hmmmm? How? In terms of not getting enough, or too much?" He gave her right forearm a light pinch. "You're real cute, y'know that?" She giggled. "I've been told. So are *you*." He decided to let that ride. "I go to AA meetings sometimes. They help me face *me*. I really should go back. Haven't been since my last big bender, last month. See, deep down, I really have it bad for the 'drug ya chug.'" Why was he telling her this stuff? This wasn't what you told a girl you may want to impress. Did he want to? Twirling a strand of his hair she said, "I won't think any less of you, whatever you decide to tell me. You can let there be some mystery. Mystery's good in its place." She started stroking his arm. Its soft blonde hairs felt nice running her fingers over. He lightened up. "Okay. So, like...I was born...twenty-nine years ago to Esther Jane and Silas Micah Langly in Saltville, Nebraska." There was a definite edge to the way he'd said his father's name. He yawned expansively, and was plainly unsuccessful in stifling another one when he yawned again. "Go on, don't stop now. I'm hooked..." Langly rocked her a little, and dared bringing his long legs nearer to her sinewy ones. He wondered what she would think, but little did he realize that he'd hampered her breathing. "You say that now. Ten minutes from now, get back to me." "You're stalling," she said thickly. "I'm warnin' ya. Life on the farms was the pits. Dull as hell. If I hadn't made up my own gadgets, I would've gone nuts..." "Keep going." "'Ja wohl! Ich habe und belfoge,' Oprah..." "Then continue, 'Dussel...'" ||oo|| End Part 4 __________________________________________________