Disclaimer in Part 1 susieqla@yahoo.com Thrown Back - 5/18 4:35 A.M. "And stop callin' me 'silly,'" Langly protested, bumping her left leg with his right, from underneath. She giggled again, so he bumped her again, and she said, "It's just an statement, sil--." "So. It's buggin' me." "My, aren't we sensitive." "Yeah, that's me. You'd be too, if you've been through what I have." "So, tell me, then. What have you been through?" "Hell--booyah" "Define 'hell.'" She winked at him in the overhead mirror, and, although lying prone, he went weak in the knees. His voice was stiffer and more toneless when he said, "My dad beat me everyday, whether I deserved to get whammed or not. My mom tried to get him to lay off beatin' the tar outta my brother Jonah and me, but when the old man felt like it, he'd give her her lumps too." Langly stopped, and Margot wasn't sure he would continue, but she didn't press. Not now. "When he wasn't beatin' us black and blue, he'd use that poison tongue of his and call us things you wouldn't call a mangy dog. He was shit as a parental unit." "Poorest lamb," Margot said, stroking, in a two-fold sense now. The pause intervened with neither of them saying anything, until Langly decided to break the silence, and when he did, he sounded close to tears. "The bastard beat her to death one night. He'd gone into town, came back stinkin' drunk. The stupid fuck. He was charged with murder, he's still in the state pen., rotting. I've never stopped wanting to kill him. We lost our farm, and my brother and me were sent to the county orphanage. Jonah got adopted by the bastard's relatives in Massachusetts. I didn't, though. They didn't want me--said I was a 'behavior problem.' Too much for them to handle. Compared to what? Their damn son?" But then Langly sighed, and it seemed to take his breath away. "Nobody wanted me." His lower lip quivered, but he put a quick end to that, grinding his central teeth into it. "How dreadful. You never got adopted?" "Not right away, not until I was thirteen; two years later. No big deal." The arm she'd been stroking, she squeezed, and held onto it. Her hand crept to his and she massaged his thumb's cuticle with the soft fleshly pad of hers. The knot in his stomach loosened a fraction. "Life's a right kick in the bum sometimes, isn't it?" "Pain in the damn ass. Anyway... I...I really turned out to be a product of the system. When the first family who got stuck with me finally came along, they just started a stupid chain reaction of me bein' shuttled from one farm family, to another all over Nebraska. "When I turned seventeen, and several trial families later, I figured I was old enough to take care of myself, sorta, so I made a bid for being granted legal emancipation, and, surprise, the enlightened bureaucrats back then let me have it. I was a difficult child, and they figured I'd sponged long enough." "If this is too hard, you don't have to go on." Langly shook his head against the fluffy pillow. "I'm okay. It kinda feels good talkin' about all this crap, after so long." "I know the feeling." "Yeah?" "I'll explain later. Go on, don't stop, if it makes you feel better." "So there I was, seventeen, and I was my own man." His voice failed him for a few moments as several more unhappy memories flooded his mind. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, fine. So...I'm seventeen, bein' my own big an' bad man, and decided I didn't wanna hang around cow-ridden Nebraska for the rest of my life, so I applied to M.I.T. Figured if I got accepted, I'd be near Jonah. Found out he was living in this place called Yarmouth, on Cape Cod. He lives in Boston now, married with two kids." "He's older?" "Younger, by three years." "You got accepted to M.I.T.?" "Got accepted, check; full scholarship. Not bad for a hayseed punk from a totally dysfunctional family." Margot patted his hand, and that was all the encouragement he needed to continue. "My second year at M.I.T.'s ORC Graduate Studies for my Doctorate in Applied Statistics and Computer Sciences, I mostly got treated like garbage. I bring out the nastiness in people." "Present company included?" "You wanna be," he said like an arbiter, and squeezed her harder than he'd intended. "Not if I can help it." She bumped his right leg with her left, paying him back with the way she laughed; all giddy and light. "You're not bringing out the nastiness in me, quite the opposite effect..." "You like me?" he blurted, wondering when he'd decided to get bold and be so 'loser' at the same time. Only an irredeemable loser came right out and asked all needy-sounding like that. Hell, after what he'd told her, what was there to like? It wasn't like him to spill so, detailing wherein his pain lay, but before he could stop himself, he was telling her just about everything behind his mad at the world mentality. Her supple body pressed against his, the way she was rubbing his thumb, and the funny way she put things to him, had a lot to do with it, he figured. "I like you," she answered without a hiccup of hesitation. Letting a beat go by, she called him out. "What about me? Do you like me?" He did, more than he ever thought liking someone could happen this fast. But, not wanting it to sound like an EAS public service announcement, he said evenly, "I sorta do..." "Okay, with those hurdles out of the way, would you go on with the rest of your life," she said, quick on the draw. "This has all the makings of a budding friendship." "You wanna be my pal?" "Depends..." "Depends on what?" "You 'wanna' be mine?" This time when he squeezed her middle, he didn't ease up on the pressure, not until she reminded him that breathing was important to her. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Langly was silent for a long time, afloat in some very nice vibes, before he said, "What did you mean before when you said you, 'know the feeling?' What feeling is that?" "I know that shuttling, of which you speak, all too well, love. My parents were killed in an auto accident when I was quite young." "How young?" "I'd just turned four, as I've been told. Me mum and dah took off for a romantic picnic in the countryside to celebrate my father's new promotion. I'd been left with a maiden aunt. By nightfall, I was an orphan. A drunk driver..." Langly cringed. She paused thoughtfully. "It was a freak accident." "Only freaks drive drunk, I should know," he said, sounding hard-bitten. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Drunk driver?" She nodded briefly. "The idiot. I'm sorry...real sorry about your folks." "Thank you, love, but what is one to do? I never knew them. I grew up being passed amongst one relative to the next. Funny old life, as my dear Uncle Rupert is wont to spout. 'What cannot be controlled takes its toll,' more times than not." "That taking its toll part... You make that up?" "No, I'm not the philosopher. That's my Uncle Rupert's job." "Uncle Rupert. He mostly raise you?" "On and off, but another time about him. We're not off the subject of you, yet. Now, where were we?" "I forget." "Oh, I know...being your own man, I believe, under the subheading of life and times at M.I.T." "Oh, yeah...M.I.T." They held each other's gaze in the mirror for a long time before Langly got going again, giving her earfuls of what made him tick. By five-thirty, both were fast asleep, Langly hugging her as though for dear life, and she, up to her eyeballs in his thinning hair, breathing calmly, without a snuffle, or a hitch of there being an asthmatic problem. ||oo|| 5:45 A.M. Max got out of the midnight blue Volkswagen 'punchbuggie,' across the street from Mulder's building, knowing exactly where Margot was. He stood in the middle of the road as though transfixxed, sensing her pulse strong and rhythmic, pulsating with its usual vigor. His analysis swift, and concluded, he was just about to advance on the apartment complex, when from out of seemingly nowhere, a laundry truck bore down on him, doing eighty-five. Before the 'sensor' could spring back, out of harm's way, he was struck, his body sent sprawling when he landed hard. The truck never even slowed down. He lay there for several seconds, far from dead, not a spot of blood on him anywhere, but unable to get up right away to get Margot, his prime objective. Instead, he dragged his crippled but functional body over to his severed arm which had been torn away from the shoulder. Seizing it, he stuffed the artifical limb into his leather, double-breasted overcoat, then dragged himself back to the 'beetle.' Fifteen minutes later, he peeled away from the curb with one badly shaking hand on the steering wheel. ||oo|| 6:59 A.M. "Well, well..." The clip in the ribs Frohike gave Byers was not subtle. "Well. What a cozy, nauseating little scene this is." He wished it was he, instead of the blond 'wunderkin.' He was the one with all the charisma. "Strange," Byers muttered, looking just as thoughtful, but for an entirely different reason. They ventured nearer, curiosity governing them both. "I didn't get the impression that she'd be the type of woman who would sleep with a man she hardly knows." "Oh, I'm sure it wasn't HER idea. He probably whined, gave her his tired sob story about being a virgin, she'd be his first, and she caved for mercy sex." Frohike sniffed, then continued, "Mercy sex is better than no sex at all, and a whole lot better than Whiskey Tangs a la assembly line style." "Still, I just didn't think she was the type." "Takes two to tango, buddy." He had flavored the retort with just the right amount of sanguine. Byers wrinkled his sunburnt nose with its plethora of new freckles. One visit to the beach for his first time this summer was all it took. "Come on, let's go out. This time we'll knock instead of barging in. Give them time to make themselves presentable." "YOU go out and come in again. I'm gonna mess with Blondie." Frohike sauntered over to the bed, and after giving Byers a saucy wink, bent over Langly's ear. In a salacious, feminine- sounding voice, he whispered, "Ooooh, baby, oooooh, baby. Oooooh. You're such a stud... Can't get enough of you, butterbuns." He clamped his hand over his mouth, but splitting his sides was a real possibility. Byers was waving him off, wanting him to stop. In no way going to comply, Frohike brought his face close to Langly's ear again, and breathily urged, "C'mon, gimme more of what ya got, lover..." Softly, he blew into his friend's milky white ear, and an unexpected result was achieved. "FROhike, you are incorrigible," Byers whisper- hissed. "Stop that," he pleaded, although he could see his appeal was falling on stubbornly deaf ears. "You're embarrassing yourself," and then he added, "and me." "This is fun..." It wasn't Langly who had begun to stir, rather, it was Margot. Her face rested comfortably upon his chest, doubling as her pillow. Not fully awake, she scooted up nearer to the comatose face and buried hers into the niche of his inviting neck, her hand rested over his nipple. She sighed sleepily after yawning with eyes still closed. "God, she looks like an angel like that," Frohike remarked, sounding reverent. "She's got one hell of a kisser, what a beaut. Figures he's the one who got lucky, even though she called *me* 'darling.' Hippie boy attracts the chicks, whether he believes it or not." Byers 'humphred.' "Sour grapes, Frohike?" "Sour nuts." "He's lonely, sometimes. He wants somebody. Hell, we all do." "Looks like he's found somebody." With some killer of a body, Frohike vented to himself. "Maybe this girl's just what he needs." Frohike shrugged, resigned. Subdued, he said, "Okay, man, I'll go with the flow. We're outta here to give 'em their space." The shutting of the door behind them awakened Langly with a start. He eyeballed the mirror, shocked to see she was lying right on top of him. The placement of her hand where it was quickened his pulse. This was the stuff many of his more passionate fantasies were made of. Stirring with listing-like motion, she woke then too, looking more alert than he, but that lasted only for a moment. "Morning, love." She smiled at him, squelching a waking yawn. "Hey." "Hey..." "Sleep okay?" "Perfectly." She snuggled into his chest some more, and kissing her forehead seemed the way to go. Lightly, she began stroking his left pect. Somehow, this felt right, he thought, not fully convinced that he wasn't still dreaming. "You weren't just bein' nice to me, were you?" "Nice about what?" "Not borin' ya?" "No--meant every word. You didn't bore me." He worked a more convincing smile on her then, mining his brain for something memorable to say. "To be sure, you don't. As I said before, you're a smasher," she reiterated. Lightly, his fingers started describing invisible patterns on her cheek, her chin resting in-between his pects. "Thought I heard somethin'...the door maybe..." "You did?" she said, lazily, blinking, and closed her eyes. They sprang open when she felt him move to check his watch. When he realized he wasn't wearing his glasses, he reached for them, but before he had them, Margot was fitting them into place on his face. "It's seven. The guys are gonna be here any second now." He shifted, but Margot held her position, pinned to his chest. "Hey, like what gives?" "I'm hoping not you, not just yet. You're an excellent pillow, so much better than any goose down variety. You're deliciously soft, and pleasantly cuddly in all the right spots." Her relaxed sigh made him a little tense. "Perfect." "Well, I'm just sayin' we better make a move before 'Hike and Bye' show up." Mulder had told them about the key being under the mat right along with him. "Won't even knock, when they don't see the key where it usually is. Just break in here with our lock picker and draw stupid conclusions. They so like doin' that." "And what sort of 'stupid conclusions' do you think they'd draw if they saw us like this?" Margot tickled, with an arch of her stencil-like eyebrow. So what if they did, she thought, looking smug about it. Langly gave a short, sharp laugh. "C'mon, you know what they'd think...us like this, barely dressed, okay, so me more na-naked than you, and on each other." "Yes?" He eyed her pointedly, with a candor she was beginning to look for, liking, as much as she did his unworldiness, which was turning out to be irresistable. "We've got nookie written all over us." "Really? Where?" "Stop goofin'. I know that's what I'd think if it was, let's say, Byers and you here like this." "But I'm not with him, I'm with you, and we haven't done anything x-rated." At least, not yet, she racily thought, and then wondered if she should voice that. She decided against, seeing the apprehension that had set sail on his face. She lifted her head, smiling into his ambiguous blue eyes, that seemed to hold a wreathe of surprise, and a suggestion of promise. She edged closer to his face, and kissed the oversized frame of his eyeglasses. "I'm glad it's you I'm with. You make me feel safe..." "I--I do?" he said, looking several beats behind music he'd never heard before. "You do," she said, and returned to nuzzling the tender valley of flesh between his nipples with her lips. "Ma-Mar--oh, God!" His eyes banged shut, with his involuntary shuddering. The speeding rush had taken him with such force, that talking was now a chore. Her lips were munching and tasting him on their way to his mouth by way of the scenic route. "Are you all right, darling?" she breathed at the base of his neck, bringing her full weight of her body down on his, with his wildly responding. "Whoa...God..." "Your first time...like this?" He could barely nod with any coherency. "Then, I'll be gentle...all feathers and fluff for you, love." "Bu-but...the...the guys..." "Will be here when they get here," she said hoarsely. "OH--GOD!" Laughing, she nipped his chin with gentle bites. "I want you, lambkins...I want you now." He was sizzling, a dip in the Potomac would be only gradual relief the way he was now. While hormonal fire in his blood frenzied his brain, and vestiges of resolve were lanced by lust, he fought to say, "Ca-can't we..." Another powerful shudder electrified him, and he groaned, "Ta-talk, talk about this fi-first?" "Later," Margot ground into the side of his warm cheek, her lips greedily seeking his, "after...after..." The rest was gutteral and unintelligible. His wilder side clubbed him with, "SHUT-UP, YOU PUTZ! LET HER DO THIS FOR YOU--LET HER DO WHATEVER THE HELL SHE WANTS TO WITH YOU--SHE'LL MAKE A MAN OUTTA YA--THIS IS IT--" 'I *AM* a man, dammit," Langly yelled at himself internally. "You're such a beautiful man," she told him, as she unsnapped the snap, which had too much give, of his jeans with a practiced hand. Backtracking, she licked his nipple, and Langly convulsed. "Ma-Ma-Marg--oh. NO!" Persuasive, but firm hands captured the busy one, and she stopped, feeling them trembling around hers, which only made her want him more. ....You're the biggest jerk goin', his libido maligned.... Ignoring himself, and looking miserable, he said, "I-It's not you--i-it's me. I, I d-don't want it like this..." "Anyway you want it then," she cooed close to his ear, driving chills up and down his spine. Leaning up on his elbows, Langly waited for his breath to catch up with the rest of him. "I'm, I'm so screwed-up," he bleated. Measuredly, she brought her mouth up close to his lips, and them tenderly, to coincide with the several sharp raps upon the front door suddenly. "I-It's the guys," he breathed against her lips, sounding as though he'd been given a reprieve. "Punctual chaps," Margot replied disagreeably. "I gotta go." "By all means then. Don't keep them waiting." She sat up cross-legged, and propped her chin up with her hands, watching him leave the room like he couldn't get out fast enough. "It would have been heaven," she called out after him. The banging on the door reverberated dully, fairly bouncing off the anteway's walls. Muffled voices demanding admittance could be heard between the thuds. He made a quick detour to the living room to don his carefully folded T-shirt from the coffee table. He re-snapped his jeans. "Cool it--" Langly flung irately at the door, kicking it once he'd arrived to let his partners in. "Break it down, and Mulder will have your asses." The pounding intensified. "Hey--what took you so long, man?" Frohike accused, charging in once Langly had opened up, Byers right on his heels. "Had second helpings?" he baited, wanting to fan Langly's disposition. "Good morning, Ringo," Byers said, his eyes twinkling, with a playful smile on his face. Langly did a double take when Byers winked at him. "'Bout time you two got here," Langly bounced off them. "Where's the pretty lady?" Frohike asked, all aglow with inquisitiveness. "In there," Langly said, indicating the bedroom with a cant of his head. "Yeah, the bedroom," Frohike said, risquely. To have been a fly on the wall last night, he thought. "Got breakfast?" Langly asked, harboring the fervent hope. Byers was bearing a white, starch-crisp shopping bag. "So, how was she?" Frohike asked impatiently. "How was she what?" Langly questioned, about as sharp as a dull knife. "You know." Frohike's eyebrows wriggled and jigged. "How was she where it *counts*?" "Counts for what?" "Guess I can't rag on you 'bout bein' a virgin anymore," Frohike bedeviled. "She treat you right?" Langly, minutes away from a spectacular detonation, was interrupted by his 'tweeded' friend. "As a matter of fact," Byers plugged in, "we do, 'got breakfast.'" The 'suit and tie' headed for the kitchen. "It's still fairly warm." He advised Langly with intentional looks that he should come with him quickly before Frohike had the chance to pester him about what he considered an extremely personal thing. Frohike, frowned, but went to Mulder's worktable to set their portable technologic arsenal down. "You can tell me all about it later," he hounded before Langly disappeared into the kitchen with Byers. "Wha'cha get?" Langly asked as Byers put the take-out bags down on the smudgy kitchen table. "Not MacDonald's, if that's what you're hoping," Byers replied. "Yo, man, Mickey Dee's not the only place I like, ya know. 'Sides, wrong bag." One deep-lunged whiff told Langly what he needed to know. "Oh, yeah, now you're talkin'--Beaverton's Country Pantry!" Langly clapped Byers soundly on the back. "Now this *is* serious." The eatery being his second favorite place to pig-out at. "Whatcha get me?" "See for yourself." "Well, I'm wishing it's..." The eager man tore open the styrofoam container Byers was hinting at that he should. "Yes, yes yes. YES!" If this is what it takes to please him like this, Byers thought, maybe I'll make a special effort to bring steak, eggs and the pancakes at least once a week for him.... However, he thought on, there might be another reason he's so upbeat this morning...one about five-foot whatever, with piercing blue eyes...dewy skin like bone china... 'Susanne,' his mind spoke, 'saying how much I, miss you, doesn't come close....' Snapping out of it, Byers said, "I concede, you do your best work on a contented full stomach." "Do Klingons have an aggressive nature?" "Now how the hell's Byers gonna know something vital like that?" Frohike tossed at them as he came into the kitchen, rubbing his fingerless gloved hands together. "Where's my grub, John?" Langly was already scarfing down another piece of toast and more eggs. Byers handed Frohike his order, then began looking after his own. "How's she doin' after last night?" Frohike wanted to know, his mouth crunching a piece of bacon, and wearing a grin that indicated he wasn't about to let a Langly with his 'first' under his belt, lie. ||oo|| End Part 5