Discoveries - Part Two

"So, what's wrong with your girl?"  Silvio demanded, as soon as 
Langly returned to the ER waiting room.  Relieved to see him, he 
rose to his feet and made a beeline for the distraught looking 
beanpole.  As he advanced on him, he stole a look at the huge 
waiting room clock which hung over the beat-up looking drinking 
fountain.  It was high noon.  Langly'd been gone nearly a full 
hour, leaving the contact from the Amazon, by way of Manaus, to 
brave the unpleasant vicissitudes of the ER 'dead zone' alone.

Not a squeamish man by nature, the sight of numerous victims, 
men, women, and yes, children, afflicted with varying degrees of 
gunshot wounds, as well as all manner of nasty injuries and 
maladies, had been enough to drive Silvio to the men's room a 
number of times to splash some cold water on his haggard face.  
Washington D.C., he'd thought, and grimaced.  Although, his 
beloved Rio was none too safer, since the last time he'd paid a 
visit a year ago, he'd reflected, as he'd splashed, and had 
checked to verify the secureness of his own weapon, a number of 
times.  Even though he possessed the proper provisional, 
international authorization to carry a firearm, he was never 
comfortable wearing a piece.  But one could never be too careful 
these days.

Likewise, looking a shade paler than when he'd accompanied 
Scully into the ER care facilities, Langly didn't answer right 
away.  He moved past Silvio and dropped into the nearest empty 
seat.  He felt so vexed, so lost and small at the same time.  
Words were beyond him at the moment. Staring blankly into space, 
it felt as though he'd been with her several days instead of 
several hours; several excruciating days.

"How's your girl?" Silvio repeated, close to Langly's ear, a 
hint of annoyance tinging his liberally accented voice, once he 
was seated beside him.  He was very tired, not having had much 
chance of even catching a catnap on the plane.  And the 
airline's service was another diatribe.  "What's wrong with 
her?"  

His tiredness, coupled with his wanting to divulge what 
information he had, and then be on his way back to the rain 
forest, wasn't helping his disposition at the moment, which was 
normally easygoing, not acerbic.  Casting dubious eyes which 
weighed Langly up, and tallied him short, he said, "She is very 
beautiful, but it is a bad thing when a man must get a woman 
drunk to have her.  Now, she is very sick.  No?"

Blinking himself to a higher level of consciousness, but still 
unwilling to wholly come out of his morose reverie fully, Langly 
snaked his head to glare at Silvio, not appreciating his tone, 
nor, the disparagingly, and intensely seemy implication.  

Cutting him with his eyes, Langly said, "She's not my girl, 
Scully's my friend, and I didn't get her smashed, to boink her.  
Far from it!"  He ran his hand through his hair and said hotly, 
"I don't haveta 'get' women like that.  That's a tactic for 
losers!"  Sighing then, he went on, "Shoot, how I wish I 
friggin' knew what's wrong with her.  This sucks--THEY know 
bupkus, and if they DO know, they're not telling me squat.  
She's gone into a coma, man!"  He embraced his head with his 
hands and looked as though he would double over at any second.  
"How can this be happening?  CRAP!  She's gotta be all right--
she's just gotta be--oh, God, PLEASE!"

"Coma?  From drinking too much?"

Langly bristled, hugging his abdomen.  "Yeah, a coma, and 
weren't you payin' attention?  It's not 'cause she's tanked!  
She's not a boozer.  She's as straight as they come, man."  
Which was one of the seemingly non sequitur of reasons why he 
was finding himself liking her so much.  

Her bone straight and narrowness was a boon to his unique view 
of the world, causing its expression to manifest itself in 
fresher, more dynamic ways, ever since embarking on their night 
of eventful discovery in Vegas, and the unexpected pleasure of 
her company for 'Phantom'.  A view which roughly dictated that 
faking a nonchalant, off-the-wall ilk of madness was fine, but, 
when the situation warranted, you care like crazy.  The mystery 
regarding the nature of her present state was certainly such a 
situation.

His caring like crazy had gone critical, as had her condition.

The corners of his mouth crooked upward, despite the abject 
glumness tugging at his heart.  It was evident Scully cared 
deeply about many things.  Why, even at one point during 
'Phantom', she'd leaned over and had whispered into his ear, her 
muse at full tilt, whether or not he thought Jar Jar Binks had a 
speech impediment, and if so, maybe the Jedi could help him 
overcome it.  

Yeah, he liked that benchmark of empathy very much.  It was so 
rare in people today.  They shared many of the same sentiments, 
he'd discovered.  Shocko!  There was no denying that the 
fondness for, and clear attachment he was developing to her was 
a work-in-progress.  Who would've thought after all these years, 
throughout their bumpy and minimal association, that caring 
would figure into the mix?

*She's a transcendent beauty with a conscience, allied with her 
innate ability to induce my eccentricity to strut its head off, 
and she hasn't put me down for it either, least not yet, anyway*

Yep, he generously considered, there's always room for a lot 
more eccentricity strutting.

With a firm set to his jaw, he concluded the word hadn't been 
invented yet that did justice to her calibre of intelligence and 
pathos.  He'd have to come up with one...but not now.  He was 
way too distraught.  

"She's just gotta pull through!  Dana Scully's a lady with a 
capital 'L', jack.  She's good people."

"Okay, okay, do not have the, as your animated, little yellow 
American Bart says, 'cow, man.'"  Silvio patted Langly's 
shoulder in commiseration.  "I'm sorry for springing to the 
wrong idea."

Oblivious to the apology, Langly droned on, "They'd no sooner 
drawn some of her blood when she got muzzier, an' swooned.  
She's been out since.  I've been in there with her, holding her 
hand, tryin' to talk her back.  A few minutes ago, these two 
hot-shot doctors showed up.  They asked if I was a relative.  
When I said, no, they told me I'd have to wait out here.  Both 
of 'em gave me squirrely looks of the highest magnitude, man, 
like I was her dealer or something."

He tugged on his hair, looking tense, and drawn.  "Please, oh 
please let her be okay."

"Langly, you had better calm down," Silvio urged.  "Getting so 
upset is never healthy."

"I'll do whatever you want--even give up bein' such an 
egocentric vid addict--anything...just let Scully be okay."  He 
buried his head in his hands and fervently whispered, "Don't let 
her slip away, please.  Don't let her check out on a forever 
basis.  Not when we were makin' real stone what-you-see-is-what-
ya-get effort to know each other better, an' all. The one-on-one 
we've laid down so far's been the awesomest nirvana ever.  She's 
outstanding."

*This cracked world needs tons more like her.  Scully lays claim 
to a snug place in ALL our hearts; we need her.  Don't yank her 
out.  It can't be her time.  All systems say she wants to be a 
serious friend.  With me!  Go figure...*

*As if you don't deserve one?*, his inner voice nudged in mild 
reproach.

"No," he breathed to himself, "you know what I mean.  I'm not an 
easy fit...but she seems to know that, an' it doesn't matter.  I 
always thought she was Judgment Day in pantyhose, but that's so 
bogus..."

"Easy, my friend," Silvio comforted, but sensed his assurance 
would be moot, "I'm sure she's in good hands, and she'll be just 
fine."

"This is all our fault!" Langly exclaimed fitfully as he lifted 
up his head from his lap.

"Whose fault?"

"Ours--Byers', 'Hike's and mine.  We never should have gotten 
her involved in that wack investigation, even though we thought 
we were on to something big.  Believe me, we were, but that's 
not worth diddly now, not if that stupid M-C crap's ultimately 
liquified her brain.  I'll never forgive myself!  We never 
should have suckered her in, luring her out there with our 
phoney phone--"

"Well, I'm here, Scarecrow.  Got your message loud an' clear.  
Where's Scully?"

"MULDER!"

Langly bounced to his feet, overjoyed to see the one man who 
seemed to bring sanity to an otherwise insane world, with his 
trusty brand of reaffirming, arcane logic.  He threw his arms 
around Mulder and crushed him to himself as though his arms were 
a vise.

"They've got her in the back, there.  Something weird's goin' 
down, man.  She went into a coma, and they chased me out in a 
scram."

After Mulder, who still wore his sweats from his early morning 
run, had worked himself free of the all encompassing embrace, he 
said, "I'm really nuts about you too, Langly, but what's with 
Scully being in a coma?"  Unpretentiously, he returned Langly's 
arms to their owner's sides.

Langly nodded frantically, looking woebegone.

"How'd she get that way?"  Mulder started walking off with 
Langly dogging his heels.  Then, as almost an afterthought, the 
over-wrought systems expert wheeled around and high signed for 
Silvio to sit tight. The expectant Brazilian, who'd risen to his 
feet to add his informal greeting to Mulder, flounced back down 
into the chair.  Again, he was left to wonder if he'd be 
spending the entire day in this human zoo.

"Goes back to Vegas...has to, and winds up in the office this 
morning. We saw the new 'Star Wars' together, last night."

Mulder half-heard Langly's rapid-fire reply, as his mind 
catapulted to another time, the *dark* time when she'd gone into 
coma, and it had taken practically everything Melissa had been 
capable of mustering to summon her back.

"You and Scully?" Mulder said, sounding backhandedly surprised.

"Uh huh.  Last night.  She deeply dug the flick."  He breathed 
heavily, and forged on, "But, anyway, when we got back to the 
lab, it was total 'Outer Limits'.  She freaked, fell out and 
wound up having to stay the night.  Then this morning, after we 
were having breakfast, she did a repeat, only this time there 
were no signs of her gettin' over it in a hurry.  The Brazilian 
showed early, so I had him drive us here to see what's up with 
her present state of the flip side.  Man, you've never seen her 
so wild."

Mulder had seen her in many different ways, but conjuring up a 
mental video of her going off the deep end, when he wasn't 
around, was not something he wanted to entertain.  His mind did, 
however, envision Scully and Langly at the movies, having a good 
time together, and suddenly, that idea didn't sit too well.

"I didn't know Scully liked those movies..."

"Uh huh.  I know."  Langly frowned at him, recalling Mulder's 
judgmental opinion when he'd invited him to go first.  "But, 
that aside, like I told her, she was acting the way she had in 
Vegas, after Susanne Modeski's scuzzy M-C drug ripped her."

"Scully spent the night?"

"No option.  Like, she wasn't in any shape to leave.  Trust me 
on that."

Mulder did a double-take, as though what Langly was telling him 
had been swiped from the funny papers, but he wasn't laughing.  
There was nothing even distantly amusing about his partner, his 
best friend, his Scully, tucked away all nice and cozy in some 
form of inexplicable deep sleep, precipitated by some 
chemically-induced trauma.  She had a sorry history of being in 
too many hospitals, for too many shadowy reasons.

"How come you didn't try to contact me then?"

"I did.  Once she'd fallen asleep, and I got outta the bed, I 
buzzed ya, but you must've had your phone and machine switched 
off."

"Yeah.  I did; forgot.  I got home and crashed last night.  
Didn't want to be disturbed by anyone."  Mulder barraged him 
with bizarre looks as they headed for the ER attendant's 
station.  "You were in bed with Scully?" Mulder croaked in stark 
disbelief.

"Like, chill, buddie.  Zero hanky-panky.  Bupkus, if I'm hearin' 
and pickin' your vibe up right--like I told her, earlier this 
morning before she went nympho.  Zip happened."

Mulder eyed Langly narrowly.  "She was with you the whole 
night?"

"Scully was like 'Vampira' on acid, with the Boy Scout.  I being 
a model one from the get-go.  She was in a real bad way."  
Langly tugged on his arm to make him slow down a fraction.  He 
leveled his gaze even with Mulder's.  "You know me better than 
that.  Don't you?  Her actin' screwy wasn't a red flag to make 
my move.  You think I'd stoop so low?"

"Sorry, Langly.  It's just that I'm worried about her..."

"Bingo.  Me too.  My opinion:  Something triggered her off, and 
I believe that mind scrunching drug has everything to do with 
it.  Nothing's for sure about that, yet; it's just a gut 
feeling."

"So you think there's a direct correlation between your exploits 
in Vegas and Scully winding up here?"

"Bullseye.  'Bout time."  Langly stuck his arm out and over to 
wave his hand in front of Mulder's eyes a few times.  "Hello.  
Welcome back to this universe.  What have I been saying for the 
past coupla minutes?"

"'Kay, Luke Skywalker, just give me the total rundown, minus the 
attitude.  Scully didn't actually go into what you, Cowardly 
Lion and Toto were up to in Vegas.  Let alone how you three got 
her out there in the first place."  Mulder gave him a pointed 
look.  Langly averted his eyes and looked ceiling-ward for the 
scrutiny.

"She just keeps dropping deadly hints like crazy that she'll let 
you live, but Frohike and Byers are marked men.  What time-lapse 
are we specifically talkin' here, and what went down?"

"Good to know I've got your undivided attention now," Langly 
said with plenty of attitude left over.  "Roughly a month ago, 
we went to check out this year's Def-Con Convention.  Ya know, 
for scrounge purposes, and who does Byers bump into but his 
mainline crush, Susanne Modeski..."

"Susanne," Mulder intoned, his beleaguered memory throwing his 
thought pattern into remembrance overload.  "Alias Holly."  
...Baltimore, that musty, dark warehouse, the shootout, the 
Gunmen, X, and his own pathetic writhing on the floor, naked, 
blathering incoherently...

"Governmental abductee bait in the flesh afta all these years," 
Langly snapped, pairing the retort with a look of, [You heard 
right].  After he'd finished filling Mulder in, he waited for 
his friend to digest the unlikely chain of unforeseen events.

"I've gotta give it to ya.  You boys've got a lotta crust.  It's 
a wonder Scully didn't go ballistic on you out there, once she 
caught on to your cloak an' dagger shenanigans."

Ignoring Mulder's anemic attempt at chastisement, Langly went 
on, "Byers looked all set to jump in the cab and ride off with 
his lady love.  He's still got it hard core for the maven of 
mind control.  He'd climb Everest for her, not batting an eye, 
and then volunteer to be a test subject."

"So, you think Scully's suffering from some kind of delayed 
aftereffects, compliments Susanne's concoction."

"Straight up."

Once they stood before the ER attendant's station, which bore 
all the earmarks of Chaos Central, Mulder flashed his FBI ID.  
"This is who I am, and he's my undercover attache," the Fed said 
imperiously, placing his hand between Langly's jutting shoulder 
blades, to round out the rapid introduction.  Langly noted that 
this was a new attendant, who'd most likely come on after he'd 
been ejected.  He felt smug posing behind Mulder's 
prevarication, and nodded staidly.

"You have a Ms. Scully as a patient.  She's a Special Federal 
Agent--my partner--and we need to see her immediately."

The attendant held up his hand simultaneously with his phone, 
which already had most of its calls*on*hold lights doing the 
dance of the fireflies, when it rang.

"Speak to the hand," Mulder said in a crisp aside to Langly, who 
nodded again, with a smirk.  "Why'd you bring her here, and not 
to Georgetown Med.?  This is one of Washington's house of 
horrors hospitals."

"Yeah, remind me to kick myself later.  It was closest.  She was 
so freakin' bad, this place popped into mind first.  I was 
freakin' too."

The attendant slammed down the phone, and asked Mulder to repeat 
what he'd just said.  Once Mulder had recited the litany a 
second time, the frazzled attendant gave both men withering 
looks.  "Only one at a time, Mr. Mulder, sorry," he said at 
length.  "Your associate will have to wait here.  Hospital 
rules."

"Chuff," Langly muttered deep in the recesses of his throat. 
"...Hospitals don't rule HMOs do..."

"My attache goes everywhere I do when it involves official 
Bureau business."  Mulder threw a curved 'cut it out' fast ball 
look at Langly.  "The rules will have to bend, in this 
instance."

"Oh, really.  And just what IS the nature of your business?"

Mulder wanted to pinch and wag this clown's bulbous nose so bad, 
but maintaining his professional composure, he replied in the 
highhanded voice he reserved for lackeys, "Seeing my partner.  
She's privy to highly sensitive information.  Another agent must 
be on hand with her at all times, to prevent any security leaks.  
My attache serves as a back-up witness.  Feel free to call our 
superior.  His name's Assistant Director Walter Skinner.  He'd 
be delighted to confirm that."  Mulder loved slinging his 
imagined 'official' weight around.  It was a good thing he'd 
never been called on most of his bravado displaying, stand down 
tactics.  But that had never happened because Mulder was a 
formidable bluffer; a natural rigmarole champ.

"She's to the right--"

"That way, and then left," Langly butted in.  "C'mon, sir, I'll 
show ya," he said, behaving uncharacteristically deferential 
towards Mulder. "I've been."

"Left..." the galled attendant said, his snootiness at full 
bloom, with his right hand, in the throes of giving visual 
direction, left hanging.

"Don't you just hate hospital stench?  So ANTIseptic," Langly 
blurted out as they passed three curious nurses' aides.  One, a 
very attractive brunette, with an unseemly, for proper hospital 
attire, minidress, made a crack to her companions about the 
length of Langly's 'stringy, yucky' hair, as Mulder 
appreciatively took her in.

"Jealous," Langly tossed over his shoulder, sounding petty-
peeved, and told Mulder in a loud enough voice that nurses' 
aides were nurse wannabes.

They kept going until the area where Scully had been placed 
loomed up. She wasn't in a room proper, but there was a curtain 
that could be drawn around the bed to lend a measure of privacy.

When the two men stood before her bed, initially, they felt 
relieved.  That feeling changed like a violent shift in wind 
gust.  They were totally unprepared for the free-for-all 
reception.  Scully was fully conscious, EEG wires-free, and full 
of ginger to see the male visitors; Langly in particular.

"There you are, Kewpie Doll."  She thrust her arms out with 
intent to plaster him in a hug, grizzly bear style, scrawled on 
her face.  "I don't like it when you disappear on me!  Now get 
over here and gimme some sugar, Cutie, like you did before you 
vanished!  I'm waiting..."

"More like when you fell out again," Langly corrected 
disgustedly.

Gaping at his partner, Mulder sniped under his breath in 
Langly's direction, "No hanky-panky, huh, bud?"  He moved closer 
to Scully's right side of the bed, and wordlessly tried to 
impress upon her that HE was there.  When she kept on ignoring 
him, and continued showering all her superfluous attention on 
Langly, he lost patience.  "Hey, Scully, it's me.  Quit acting 
like I'm the invisible man."

"Uh, Mulder," Langly said worriedly, as he allowed Scully to 
latch onto his upper arm to appease her, muscling his face close 
to hers.  "I...I don't think she's acting.  She thinks I'm the 
greatest thing since laptops...  Easy, Dana, I ain't a rag doll.  
I bruise easy."  Humoring her then, he kissed her tentatively on 
the cheek.  "It's cool you're conscious."

"I thought you said she was in a coma," Mulder fired at him 
nettlesomely.  The spectacle of Scully showering the computer 
phile with shameless affection was too much.  "What's with her 
coming on to you?"  Balking, he considered that seeing her act 
this way was more shocking than seeing her all those times stuck 
in medical facilities, fighting for her life.

"She was.  Guess she just snapped out of it," Langly shot back 
in kind, trying to wriggle free from the tenacious redhaired 
octopus.  "Beats me.  She's never let on she's had a thing for 
me.  It's the junk; probably freeing up her inhibitions."  His 
brow wrinkled in concern.  "I don't think she should stay here.  
She needs Susanne.  If anyone can bust Scully outta this weird 
bag, man, my bread's on Mata Hari."

Mulder nodded in swift agreement.  "If you can make her stop 
attacking you long enough to dress her, I'll work on a speedy 
removal."  

"Gotcha, buddy," Langly gasped as Scully sprang to her knees 
upon the bed, and into his bemused looking face, again, with her 
lips in pucker mode.  She proceeded to wrap her arms about his 
neck.  "I'm on it."  Frantically, he ordered, "Down, Dana.  Work 
with me!"  

Mulder left the area, as though he had been endowed with winged 
feet.  Halfway down the hallway he fortuitously bumped into the 
two on-duty doctors who'd given Langly the brusque brush-off.  
"Doctors..."

The physicians halted their involved conversation between 
themselves, and turned their collective attention to the flushed 
agent. "Yes?" they intoned in synch.

He flipped his badge at them and spewed a glut of words.  "I'd 
like to speak with you concerning Special Federal Agent Dana 
Scully's present condition..."

Back in the care area, Langly promised Scully, "Whatever it 
takes, to get you back to sane, I'm down with it.  That's a 
three hundred-sixty degrees guarantee; unlimited warranty.  This 
can't be your future; every time you see me, you're all set to 
rock my world.  Not that I wouldn't mind, but NOT like this.  
Not like THIS.  Dana, stop!"

"You talk too much, Cutie," Scully said, her words badly 
slurred.  She pressed her small frame into his torso.  
"Kissing's better!  I want a real one this time," she beguiled.  
"Long, and tonguey..."

*Ow...this just keeps gettin' sicker...*

Not seeing what was coming, in order to react fast enough, 
Langly gagged after she'd rammed her mouth into his, and began 
vacuuming his dry.  Her tongue was doing things he never knew 
could be done with the fleshy little member.  Struggling his 
darnedest to wrench free, he said into her lips, "Dana, you've 
gotta quit this.  You're chappin' these babies. They haven't 
seen this much action in a long--"

"Make me," she teased challengingly.  She wrestled him down onto 
the bed with her, clutching, then pinning him fierecly to her, 
just in time for Mulder to reappear with the physicians.  The 
big smile he wore for having succeeded in convincing them that 
discharging her in his care would be the best thing, and that 
handing over a copy of her blood work was a done deal, was 
effectively erased.

"Doodoo, cacca, poopoo," Langly crackled in sardonic irony.  
"You're making a big, fat liar outta me, woman.  Mulder's gunna 
think we've had this hot an' heavy habit goin' on for a long 
time," he whispered close to Scully's ear.  Then to Mulder, 
"Uh...so, is Vamp Girl here sprung?"

"Almost," Mulder replied woodenly.  Whatever was wrong with 
Scully, he wished he were video taping this sultry little 
proceeding.  Make her believe how possible the impossible was?  
A cinch, for sure, with her naked, alabaster legs coiled around 
Langly's waist, and she begging for it.  Oh God!

"Uh, hmm, uh, would you two rather be alone?  Wouldn't wanna 
cramp your style, Langly, ol' boy..."

"So very not funny," the befuddled conspiracy theorist rasped.  
"Are you gunna help me get her clothes back on, or are you one 
of those guys who likes to watch?"  As Mulder went about 
untangling Scully from Langly, the blusher testily answered his 
own question.  "Oh, that's right, I forgot.  You are."

The doctors exchanged puzzled looks with each other, but were 
glad to see that their formerly comatose patient seemed to be 
out of crisis.  Yes, she was quite lissome, and extremely eager 
indeed.  A very healthy sign.  

It appeared, now, in retrospect, that having had to find it 
necessary to forcibly eject this unorthodox individual from her 
bedside might have been a bit rash.  Perhaps they'd been overly 
gruff with her, who surely this scraggly-haired young man must 
be, ardent lover.

Mulder twisted his lips into a steely sneer, and labored hard, 
trying to restrain her from resisting his efforts to release 
Langly.  He braced himself, and really dug in.  "So very not 
funny," he crankily flung back.  Her strength never ceased to 
impress him.  But, her increased prowess could be drug-inspired, 
he painfully deduced.  Finally, succeeding in getting her into a 
firm, but gentle headlock, he said, "We'll take her to her 
place, see if we can settle her down, then contact Modeski."

"Mellowing her out'll be a piece of cake compared to locating 
Susanne."

"But I thought you said..."  Mulder fleered at Langly.  "Doesn't 
Byers know where she is?"

"If he did, do you think he'd still be with us?  'Hike and I 
think he would've married her in Vegas, in half a heartbeat, if 
she'd given him anything resembling a chance.  He doesn't have a 
clue where that chick is."

"Peachy..."

Mulder inhaled heavily and grimaced, a flood of invectives 
flowed from his pursed lips.  He relaxed his hold on Scully, 
while she continued making inane kissy-goo-goo faces at Langly.  
"Just great, Scarecrow.  Modeski's whereabouts unknown ...Scully 
rendered an over-sexed headliner straight outta one of my porn 
films."  

The bomb Langly'd just dropped, was the worst data nugget Mulder 
had ever received in his life; X-Files-related all inclusive.  
Without Modeski's intervention, was Scully destined to be a 
vegged-out Langly addict for the rest of her life?  Would she 
ride off into a drug-hazed sunset with him to live loony-
spooning ever after?  Could it get much worse?

"Agent, Mulder," the slighter of the two physicians said 
inobtrusively, "I'll get her blood work to you in a jiff, for 
your agency's case files, while my colleague gives her vitals an 
additional check."

"Yeah, fine," Mulder responded, sounding not of this world.  Nor 
did he sound as though he came from the ones he got paid to 
investigate.

"'Danger, Will Robinson,'" Langly clamored, flailing his arms, 
noting that Scully was lunging for him again.

"Cutie," Scully piped up in a high-pitched over-anxious voice, 
"I'm thirsty!  G-get me a-a Coke!  A big, b-big Coke-a-
Cola...like y-you did last night...pop-popcorn buttery, an' 
McDonald but-buttercakes.  More buttercakes!  I-I promise t-to 
be a good g-girl...B-but if you d-don't want me t-to bite you.  
You bite m-me..."

Langly's eyelids drooped.  Scully yawned, but then, as though 
imbued with superhuman strength, broke Mulder's hold, and 
started bobbing up and down on the bed, regarding Langly with a, 
'join me, this is fun' expression.

Langly stared at her wider-eyed.  He gave Mulder a shrug, shook 
his head, and under his breath said, "Weird...bottomless pit 
weird.  Now in this warped state she's startin' to remember 
stuff."  As his voice trailed off, something 'twitchy' he 
recalled Susanne saying about the antidote clicked.  *I must be 
goin' 'Zheimer's, forgetting something like that*  Early 
senility, he thought dismally, courtesy obsessive junk usage, 
and flinched.  With a genuflection to Mulder, and in a halting 
voice of posit, he strung words on the thread of his so-called 
iffy recollection.  

"Caffeine.  Fatty acids...propionic acid; a re-constitution of 
dalapon ...rabid alkaloids present in the frontal cerebral lobe 
paradign... polypeptidal synaptic proteins in conjunction with 
purine-based compounds like caffeine, swirling 'round in the 
fishbowl I call the mind.  Big time impairment according to Mata 
Hari.  Yo, man, I think there's a kernel of a Golden Gate Bridge 
connection between Susanne's antidote's peculiar reaction in 
susceptible brain tissue, and high- flyin' Scully.  Now...if 
only I can truly hash out WHAT for a concrete model.  C'mon, L-T 
Memorandus, do your stuff...think, 'Dexter, THINK!"

"Are you a scientist, young man?  Or, at least, a first-year 
medical student?" the heavier-set, and elder doctor asked, 
bedazzled.  His higher estimation of Langly, whom he'd earlier 
branded as an unkempt, hard rock tee-shirt wearing slacker space 
cadet, blazingly evident.

Langly cracked wide his first, unburdened grin of the entire 
day.  "World class hacker, Mista M. Dee.  Same thing..."