Disclaimer in Part 1 susieqla@yahoo.com Thrown Back - 6/18 7:30 A.M. "She's a gutsy chick," Langly mumbled as his incisors ripped into his T-bone. "Her ex is a serious piece of defective work. A freakazoid to the nthest power, man. For real, I thought he was gonna ice *both* of us right in the IHOP." "Defective?" Frohike tweaked further, watching his friend, the human vacuum, inhale his food. "Interesting choice of word." "The right choice." Langly was about to elaborate when Margot, all freshly-scrubbed, and damp behind the ears, loomed up behind Frohike, all smiles, defining what the word cheerful disposition means by her bearing alone. She'd changed back into the skirt and blouse she'd arrived at their place in, having packed them neatly into her bag before she and Langly had taken off. Slipping Frohike's shoulder a grip, she said, "Morning, fellas. Nice to see you lads again." Langly's eyes were pasted to her, and it amazed him how cheerful she was considering he'd thrown cold water on her campaign to jump his bones. Was she a nympho, or what? Sipping oj, he just kept staring, finding himself wondering what she would have been like, if he had had the nerve to have taken her on. He shook his head a little to clear it. That was one image of them he didn't need right now; too easy to get caught up in the thought that had bothered him since he'd seen her in her slip, and unbuttoned blouse. The moment of truth had arrived, and he'd bombed. Why? Why? He winced, knowing there were many sides to his problem. What had gotten into *her* minutes ago? God, they'd just met. Maybe she pitied him, after last night...mercy sex...or, even worse, sex on the rebound. He backed off from those notions as though they were two blowguns aimed at his heart, the poisoned darts a puff of breath away. Margot eyed Langly then, as though she had read his mind, and her smile was tight. "Likewise," Byers said, picking up her friendly skein, beating out Frohike who looked as though he had something verbal prepared while handing her a coffee. She removed the lid, and smiled her approval on its being the way she drank it. "Splendid. Thanks, loves." "Didn't know what you prefer," Byers emphasized, "so, we got you scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries and lightly-buttered toast buttered with light butter." "My, such thoughtfulness." Langly winced, thinking that maybe he could have been more communicative, *maybe* that is, if he'd really known how and she hadn't gone so schizoidal on him. Maybe all the battering she'd suffered at the hands of Max, and God knew who else, might be the explanation for her 'wham-bam' coming on to him. She kept telling him how 'nice' he was. He smiled weakly at her then. "We got you some oj likewise, Margot," Frohike said, smiling at her too, and she noticed he looked rather sly doing it. Langly polished off his pancakes that were drenched in blueberry syrup, having gone way inside himself. "Got my short stack after all," he said mostly for his benefit. Frohike settled judgemental eyes upon him. "You know, Langly, that wasn't the brightest idea you've ever had, lambing out in the wee hours the way you did. I thought you knew better than that. Guess I was wrong." "Yeah, yeah, rub my nose--" "It was my fault, Frohike," Margot spoke up, taking another small bite of toast which had a little of the eggs topping it. "I insisted that I was famished, made a right fuss, and," she let her eyes linger on Langly before she finished, "he was kind enough to take me where I could get something to eat." Langly's eyes did a bank off Margot's bemused face, wearing a look of 'why are you covering for me?' "Isn't that right, Ringo?" Her eyes prodded him that he should let her story stand. Little did she know that there was nothing anyone could do to make Langly do anything he really didn't want to. The bacon was 'equisite,' and she told its procurers so. "More or less," Langly mumbled into his coffee cup, deciding he'd let her version stand. "Good thing too, knowin' the real score, now." He wondered how his associates would react once they did. "Weird, your ex finding you," Frohike said, giving them both the fisheye. Margot searched the analytical faces of her latest allies. Nodding, she held onto the look of a human Bambi caught in the highbeams of a tractor trailer, traveling due east along Route 80, on a pitch black night, near Reno, Nevada. Something she'd had to do, not that long ago, per Nairn's implicit instructions. Visiting that supposedly abandoned missile silo had paved the way for all of her subsequent decisions. Painful discoveries, she had to make in order for her to face the brazen truth about Max. "Gustin has internal abilities. He can track me within any given radius because, because of--" She shot Langly a pleading look. She still hadn't mastered the ability to trust herself voicing what had turned into shocking reality a month and a half ago. "The capital 'L' barcoded loser's not human," he said flatly." Quickly, he amended, seeing the pain that had welled up in her eyes, "Well, uh, not altogether, that is. He's sorta like some quasi-droidal, extraterrestrial-homo sapien concoction. Friendly R2D2 and Threepio he sure ain't." "If you're striving to make sense, Langly, try harder," Byers spewed, looking like an anomaly lost in no rhyme nor reason land. Finding a way then, Margot said, "He's telling you the truth, gentlemen. I should have told you everything. I should have trusted my ethics and not Esther's." Sadly, she hung her head. Unable to stand it anymore, Langly set his empty food container aside. He made his way over to her, and put his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him, and he looked at her for a long moment, unsure of his words, but sure of his feelings in that instant. He leaned in tight and offsides her ear to whisper, "It's gonna be all right. You can bet the farm. We're in this together..." Byers and Frohike traded uneasy looks. After she'd finished telling them what Langly had neglected to tell Frohike scant hours ago over the phone, the two were speechless for as many minutes. "Ain't that a kick in the pants," Frohike said, arrowing Langly with his special look he reserved for him at times like these. At her touch, the blushing blond's middle quivered involuntarily. "Excuse me, please, I'd better go dry my hair better. I'll catch cold." Once the trio was alone, a rippling undercurrent of dissention soon followed. "Okay, prophead," Frohike quirked, "now see why I said what I said over the phone? Don'tcha get it? She's trouble with a capital 'T,' man. Pheasant under glass even with the background checks. We're just liable to get ourselves really killed this time, *not* virtually." "No we won't," Langly headed off. "We help her, we help us too." Ain't that obvious, he was quick to grasp at, like straws. "Stop thinkin' with your dick! No matter where she goes, her ex-man can find her quicker than we can swipe and mask the resonance of recon logistics. I say we cut her loose, loverboy. Ease up on your joy stick." Langly's eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, Frohike!" "Don't be a chump, man, just because she slept with you don't mean you owe her anything." "WRONG--Doohickey! We didn't do the wild thing," Langly hurled, the maelstorm having already formed and flaring from stormy eyes. Almost having done never counted. "DIDN'T!" he hissed, exploding like fifty sticks of countdown TNT. "Who gives a fuck what you think! Kiss my--" "Oh, I think she's kissed yours enough for one session," Frohike hammered. Langly balled his right hand into a fist, and aimed it at Frohike's face. "Langly, please. Calm down," Byers advised, shaking his head at him. His face a study in disapproval. "You gonna make me?" Langly bandied like a seasoned street fighter, but the fist disintigrated, and a sheepish look washed over his face. "Screw it, *I'll* help her by myself!" Still seething, he spun away from their tight circle. "Are you through?" Frohike said calmly, gaping at Langly, never having witnessed him react like this before. She must have been something, the tough nut thought, finding it hard to believe they 'hadn't' as Langly was so adamant about. Spinning back around, disgruntled, he looked from one to the other, then shrugged. "Yeah," he said in a low, groveling voice. To keep peace, Frohike said, "Look, man, I apologize for drawing the wrong conclusion about gettin' it on with her, although we know what we saw." "Like what?" "You two in bed together," Byers described, followed up by a wistful sigh. "I was there with her like that 'cos she asked. I couldn't say no--not with those freaky eyes of hers beggin' the 'yes' outta me." 'Lock Pickers R Us,' Langly considered, regarding them with an onery tinge to his eyes. He smiled for having pegged them true to form. "Yeah, I bet," Frohike railed with a rough laugh. "We just slept, we didn't rock--swear. She had this rampaging nightmare. Scared her outta her flippy gourd." "Okay, okay," Frohike broke in, "I'll take your word for it, but I still say we nix her. Bein' near her ain't safe. That's my two cents, and I'm stickin' with 'em." "A GIVEN: Her pick of boyfriends gives the words 'inflatable date' new meaning, but, 'Hike, if we don't help her, who will? C'mon, guys, she's the key to the breaking story. Who else's she got?" "Well, obviously you," Byers said in a dry tone. "Thought you of all people would understand," Langly said accusatorily, and his temper flared again. "She's tryin' real hard to deal with this sick weirdness. CRS in league with Phoenix used her for her environmental rep., and the distinguished name she has in her field." "Easy, buddy," Frohike urged. "You're gonna hurt yourself." "POSTULATE: She's got patsy grafittied all over her--a fact she ain't proud over. They snowed her good. She wants vindication, wants it bad. "MAXIM: We help her, we help ourselves. We break the biggest story we've ever had. It ain't her fault she fell for their wetwired analog of a semi-alien poster boy. Until Nairn tipped her, she knew zip. Now they've set him on her..." He was on a roll, and wanted to say more, but additional words caught and he couldn't pry the rest loose. Realizing it was pointless to go on arguing, Frohike warned himself to stop, and gave his concomitant a critical frown. Was this the same Langly who'd schooled Mulder: TRUST NO ONE? Women.... The older man put up his hands in a gesture of 'cease fire.' First Byers and Mata Hari; now Blondie and little Miss 'Snow White.' Pheromone fever was running high and well, again. Frohike grimaced, never dreaming he'd see the day Langly went 'ga-ga' over some chick, his balls tied in knots. "Do you hear yourself, man? She's got you whipped already." "Screw you, Frohike!" "Screw me?" "It's not like that," the younger, man insisted, as though he'd read his chum's mind like a hacked site. "It's not like what?" Frohike strafed. Vividly, the cloying mental picture of seeing them snuggling earlier blazed like a neon sign in his mind. Despite Langly's dogged denial, he said, "Listen, punk-ass, you wanna help her, that's all well and good, but if you think I'm..." He looked at Byers whose upset face was the 'go ahead.' "We're gonna stick our--" "Fine, then don't--like I said, *I'll* help her all by myself." Langly's face had gone whiter than it normally was, with flecks of crimson flaring up along the sides of his jaws. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe he's right, Langly? It can happen; getting close with someone. Letting someone get close to you. Allowing your feelings to cloud better judgment? Please, do yourself, and us, a favor. Try to see things rationally," Byers appealed, extending his hand, which Langly insolently knocked away. "Screw you too, narc--save the stale lecture for yourself next time you wake up in the middle of the night hollerin' for Susanne!" "Maybe she's just using you as insurance so we'll help her." Byers sighed, searching his friend's angry eyes as though he had him dead to rights. "She wasn't exactly upfront with us about Max being able to get to her so easily. Just think about that for a minute." The triad were at an impasse, with Langly flinging words at his confederates as though insults were the building blocks of live ammo. "Uh...pardon me, please, for the interruption, b-but there's something I think you had better see, and see now." The men jumped, like someone had just found them out. As they followed behind Margot, Langly wondered how much of the heated discussion she'd heard. He'd really lost his head, and his tongue had gone right along with it. When they were standing at the living room window with her, and she directed their attention the VW 'bug' and, more importantly, the person sitting behind its steering wheel, his heart sank in conjunction with Margot latching onto his arm. "W-where's the nearest exit?" she asked shakily. ||oo|| End Part 6