..oOOo..


7:43 pm


Frohike caught a small movement and looked up from his reading
to see Langly blinking sleepily, at that moment glancing in his
direction.  The older man leaned forward, his hand resting gently
on his friend’s arm.  "Hey, buddy," he smiled down at the younger
man.  

"Mel?"  Langly frowned at him, confusion clouding his features.

"Yeah, it’s me,"  Frohike assured him, stroking his arm carefully.
"How’re you feeling?"

Langly looked away quickly, closing his eyes for a moment.  He 
sighed softly, then glanced around again.  He shifted slightly, 
wincing with a weak attempt to support himself with his elbows 
when he realized it hurt too much to use his abdominal muscles.  
"Help me - I need to sit up," he mumbled.  He settled back
against his pillow when Frohike had set the head of the bed at
a comfortable angle.  "Where’s John?"  

Frohike shifted uncomfortably, but held his gaze.  "I took him home;
he needed to get some sleep.  He’s been here for a couple of days..."
he answered, trailing off vaguely.  "You’re avoiding my question. 
How do you feel?"

The younger man tried to glare defiantly at him, but realized his 
friend knew him too well for him to lie.  He swallowed hard to
dispel the lump developing in his throat as the memories of the
last time he’d woken up threatened to overwhelm his emotions.
He remembered the look of despair on John’s face as he’d
told him about the baby.  "I feel..."  he started shakily, then
shook his head as his vision blurred with tears.  "I feel like
shit, Mel.  God...John must hate me..."  he choked on a sob
he couldn’t hold back, turning away in embarrassment.

"What?!  Ringo, why--?"  Frohike stared at him in shock.  This
was the last thing he’d expected to hear from his young friend.
He had prepared himself for Langly to be upset about the loss,
to be angry at the doctors or even at Byers for not believing him.
Nowhere in his mind had he even considered that Langly would
feel *guilty* about this.

"Hey, take it easy,"  the older man soothed him, reaching up to
place his hand on Langly’s forehead.  "Come on, look at me."
He waited for the younger man to come back to him.

Langly sniffed and raised a hand to wipe the moisture from his 
cheek, then finally met his friend’s worried eye.  "’M sorry,"
he muttered.  "I just..."

"I know, it’s okay,"  Frohike forced a smile that he didn’t really
feel.  "Now, you wanna explain to me how you even begin to
*think* any of this requires you to apologize?"

The younger man frowned at him questioningly.

Frohike sighed.  "John told me what happened earlier, what you
said.  That’s when he called me.  He...he was really upset.  I 
don’t blame him.  How can you possibly think this is your fault?"

Langly shook his head, confused.  "Because...Mel, don’t you see?
I had it;  I could have given us a child and I lost it.  I *lost* it." he 
growled through clenched teeth, his hand fisting a section of his
blanket.  

The older man leaned back with a weary sigh, rubbing a hand over
his face.  After a moment, he cleared his throat.  "Ringo, there’s
someone you need to talk to;  he’s a doctor, and--"

"I don’t *need* any more doctors,"  Langly cut him off angrily.
"They wouldn’t listen before, and look what happened.  Why 
should I have to talk to one now?  What good will it do *now*?"

Forming his words carefully, Frohike knew he had to try and 
get through to his friend.  "He’s not that kind of doctor.  His
name is Gary Evans, and he’s from the family planning 
department.  He’s a counselor and you need to talk to him."

Langly snorted and refused to look at him.  "Family planning..."
he muttered derisively, shaking his head as he crossed his arms
across his chest.  "Little late for that, isn’t it?"

"No, it isn’t,"  the older man told him calmly.  "He deals with
couples who have recently lost children, or have been through
what you and John just have.  John’s already talked with him
a bit, before I took him home.  He’s a good doctor, and we
want him to talk to you."

"Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk to *him*."

"Ree, please don’t be like this," Frohike pleaded gently.  He
knew he had been put in a difficult position, the task of talking
the young, distressed man into getting the help he so obviously
needed but wanted no part of.  Byers was handling this only
marginally better, but was himself in no condition to negotiate
with Langly.

Frohike looked over at his friend when he realized he had 
heard no further arguments and felt his heart wrench at the
sight of such hopeless despair so plainly contorting the pale
features of the younger man.  "Ringo?" he questioned softly,
the illogical fear that any spoken words louder than those 
might shatter his friend’s already fragile state seeming all the
more rational.

"Just - just don’t, okay?"  Langly implored him, his hand
weakly waving off the concerned tone of the older man.
"I - I just can’t do it...not yet - I can’t," he bit back a 
choked sob, turning his face away.  Turning away from 
the offer of help.

Not willing to push him into further distress, Frohike stood
and quietly left the room, seeking advice.

As he closed the door, he heaved a frustrated sigh and scrubbed
his hands over his face.  "I’m not so sure I can, either," he muttered
softly, finally raising his eyes to meet those of the one who had been
listening through the door.

"This is going to take time...a lot of time and more patience than 
I think any of you know,"  Scully told him gently, patting his arm
with a reassuring hand.  "I’ll talk to him, maybe I can get through."

"I hope so,"  he replied, giving her a small smile as she made her 
way past him and into the small room.

She saw Langly laying there, his eyes closed as he leaned back
against the elevated bed.  "Okay if I come in?" she asked, not
sure if he was still awake.  She knew, between the painkillers 
and his body’s own weakness as he recovered, he would be
having trouble staying alert for the next several days.

Not bothering to open his eyes, he gave a slight nod, sniffing
quietly as he hugged his arms around his chest tighter.  

She settled into the chair, her mind working hard to think of
how to begin, where to start trying to repair the damage this
ordeal had done to the young man, was still doing to him.
She opened her mouth to speak, and was surprised when he
beat her to it.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Scully," he whispered
in a broken, hollow version of his own voice.  "I don’t want - 
to talk about it, about how I *feel*, with some stranger..." 

"Can you talk to me?" she offered hopefully, putting a hand on
his arm cautiously.

He turned his head to face her, his eyes bright with agony, just
the faint flicker of need, the heart wrenching need to have 
someone understand, to take away this dark, empty feeling
that had taken over his mind, his body.  The void where that
tiny stirring of unexpected life had been that was now gone,
needing to be filled by those who cared about him.  More 
than that, he needed, more than he could possibly say, to
have John with him, to have his support and forgiveness for
losing what they had created together.

"I hope so..." he sighed, attempting a tiny smile of thanks.

With a relieved sigh of her own, Scully absently stroked his
arm.  "This isn’t really my field, you know," she reminded
him lightly.  "And, I know you don’t want to, but you do
need to speak with Dr. Evans, eventually.  He’s going to
be working with John, and it would be best if you both
would meet with him, together."

"Yeah, I know," he breathed, swallowing hard as he fought
to stay in control.  "But...I just can’t - not yet.  This is so
hard...."

"I know it is, just take your time."

"I don’t even know what to say..." he admitted.  

"How about starting with the basics.  How do you feel?"
At his uncertain squint, she hurried to continue.  "I mean,
emotionally.  What are you feeling, about this whole thing."

He considered this, staring at the opposite wall but not
seeing.  "I guess...sad, hurt - for having this incredible
thing happen and then just...losing it.  It happened so
fast, didn’t even have time to think about it.

"Angry, guilty....I guess all the usual symptoms but all at
once, you know?"  

"What are you angry about?"

She felt his arm tense, saw his hands clench into tight
fists and she continued to stroke his arm, calming him
with her presence.  "The fact that no one, not the doctors,
not you guys, not even John...none of you listened to me,
and I was right.  By then it was too late..."

"Ringo, you have to understand something.  It wouldn’t
have made a difference;  if we listened or not, if they 
found out about it sooner.  It wasn’t supposed to happen
and it would have been lost anyway.  Your body was not
built to carry a child, and however this happened, you 
cannot blame yourself, or anyone else involved, for
this loss.  You should never have had to go through this,
but you did and now we have to deal with it.  All of us, not 
just you.  Understand?"

Taking a moment to let her words sink in, he finally gave a
small, reluctant nod.  Now that he knew that at least one
other person understood what he was dealing with, he 
found the courage to vocalize his deepest fear, the thing
that he felt the worst about above anything else.  "I - I
wanted to do this...for him.  For John," he said softly,
unable to meet her eye.  

Finally getting to the heart of his pain, she found herself
unable to find the words; nothing she could say would 
be what he needed, which was to hear this from Byers.
"This is something that you need to talk to him about,
something you need to deal with between the two of
you."

With a frustrated grunt, he pulled back into himself 
again, his arms tightening once more.  "I.  Can’t," he
stated simply.  "I thought...you would understand.
You know what it’s like, you more than anyone I
can possibly think of.  What it’s like to want to give
a child to the person you love, but knowing that 
you can’t, that it’s physically impossible.  Well, 
looks like we both defied those odds..." he gave
a short, ironic laugh.  "I wanted this so much, just
to be able to share this with him, to be able to
create *life* with the person I live for.  And I 
*lost* it."

"*You* didn’t lose it, Ringo.  It wasn’t up to you,
it was an unavoidable consequence of this impossible
conception.  You can’t go on blaming yourself for
something you had no control over!  

"More than that, John never expected you to give him
a child.  I talked with him, and he told me he talked it
over with you.  You, more than anyone, know how
he feels about this.  He just wants *you*, to be happy
and healthy.  This is what marriage is about.  To share
a life with someone else and make each other happy,
to take care of each other."

He shot her a sharp, questioning look.  "Marriage...?"

"Yes, marriage.  John told me about it when I saw his ring."

"Oh," he mumbled.  "I guess...you’re right, I need to talk
to him.  Just....not yet.  I need some time to figure out what
to say."

"That’s fine, no one’s expecting you to just bounce back 
from this.  He’ll probably come back to see you tomorrow,
and even if you can’t talk about it yet then, at least let him
be here for you.  He’s worried about you.  He was pretty
upset when he left," she hated telling him this, but knew it
was necessary.

As she expected, he cringed at the knowledge that he had 
upset his lover.  After a moment, he spoke cautiously.  "Um...
how - how is he?  How is he doing?"

"Well, spending over two days in these chairs isn’t much 
fun," she smiled, trying to lighten his ever-spiraling mood.
"He’s tired, scared...he misses you, to be honest.  I think 
he just needs to spend some time with you, alone, just to
assure himself that you are still here, and still needing him
to be here for you."

"I miss him, too....this whole thing hasn’t exactly been a 
bonding experience.  And I *do* need him..." he told her 
honestly.  "If you call over there tonight, can you tell him
I do want to see him, if he wants to come back tomorrow?"

"Of course," she gave him a warm smile, squeezing his 
arm.

"Thanks," he returned her smile.  With a deep sigh, he 
rubbed a weary hand over his face.  "God, I’m tired..."
he yawned.

"I should think so," she replied as she stood.  "You need
to get some rest.  You going to be okay by yourself tonight?"

He gave her a grateful smile as he pulled his blanket to his
chest and settled back, as comfortable as he could make 
himself.  He still winced at the pinch in his arm, the unpleasant
tug at his groin from his movements.  Ignoring the medical 
equipment, he remembered something.  "Hey, Scully?"

"Yeah?"

He raised a handful of the well-worn blanket for her to see.
"Is this, um, what I think it is?"

She gave him a knowing grin.  "Sure is.  Frohike brought it 
while you were out.  He said he thought it would make you
feel better."

Langly couldn’t help but smile fondly at this, hearing how
much his friend cared for him, even when he wasn’t awake
to acknowledge it.  "Tell him - tell him it does."

"I will," she promised.


..oOOo..