Gabriel
Chapter Ten


The Rocky Mountains
September 20, 2001
8:45 a.m.


Would she come back today?  Gabriel eyed the
gray morning outside the kitchen window.  He had
the fire roaring now; it was warm in the cabin. 
Good thing too, because he knew it wouldn't be
very long before the mild sunshine would give
way to snow.  He could feel the cold
approaching, most especially in his battered
bones.

In spite of the cold, he felt better.  He'd
tried using his voice after downing a cup of hot
coffee and found he could say a few words before
it gave out again.  Not that he knew what he'd
say to her if she came; he was wary of bringing
on another seizure.  But he had to find a way to
notify the others of his discovery and to summon
help.  She probably wouldn't show up anyway -
chances were, Matthew would be around sometime
today to urge him along.  Gabriel knew he'd
blown his chance with the boy, even though the
events of yesterday morning were not something
he had any control over.

He paced his small quarters, stretching his legs
in an effort to quell his frightened thoughts. 
What if Matthew told his grandfather about the
new resident in the cabin?  If the boy's
grandfather was who he suspected, he'd waste no
time in putting Gabriel under his thumb.  And it
was no use trying to escape; he was defenseless
at this point, unable to put up much of a fight
against anyone or anything.  He had to hope the
boy would keep silent.

Gabriel stopped before the fire, bending to toss
another log onto the flames.  Standing so close,
it was really warm, and he brushed a bead of
sweat from his brow, though he knew it wasn't
only the fire making his skin bleed fear.  He
fully expected the guards to come at any moment,
and he wasn't surprised to hear the cabin door
open behind him.  He had to hand it to Matthew -
the boy was persistent.

Hell on non-resistance, he thought.  "I'm not
leaving," he rasped, fisting his hand at his
side as he straightened.

"Of course you aren't," came the soft reply.

He whirled, his heart tripping at the feminine
tones that were so dear.  In a voice that had
all the coarseness of sandpaper and the strength
of tissue, he whispered, "Julia?"

Silhouetted by the wintry light from the open
door, her cloaked form shivered.  "Can I come
in?  I promise I won't harass you."  Her smile
was slight and nervous and, true to her word,
she didn't overstep the boundary of the door
without his consent.

Yes, yes, he wanted to scream.  The cabin is
yours... *I'm* yours, though you don't realize
it.  But fear gripped him suddenly; he was
scared of what his presence could do to her. 
The harm he could bring to her and to her baby
was very real and dangerous, should she press
him again.  He didn't know if he could keep her
from seeing the truth - the truth that could
kill her - in his eyes.

"Please?" she asked, a sad nip of pleading in
the question.  "I'm freezing.  I won't stay
long."

You can do this, he admonished himself.  Just
don't let her get too close.  Not yet - not
until you have a plan of action.  He knew the
best thing for her health right now was the
safety of the Ranch.  But that was a catch-22 -
she was safe, but in the hands of the enemy.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he found
himself nodding, giving her permission to enter. 
His body wanted her close, despite the
rationalization of his mind.  A self-derisive
grin slashed across his mouth as he turned back
to the fire.  He was such a wuss when it came to
denying her anything.

He heard the door close.  "Thank you."

Stay calm, don't give anything away.  It became
a litany in his mind as he heard her move about
the room.  Where was Matthew?  What the hell was
she doing here alone?

The rustle of clothing coming closer made his
neck stiffen and his ears prick beneath his fall
of hair.  "Matthew is seeing the doctor this
morning."  Her tentative explanation did not
ease his tension.  In fact, it made him more
anxious, knowing they were truly alone.  "He's
really a frail boy, despite his size.  His body
is susceptible to infection and his temperature
was up a bit this morning."  Her sigh was tinged
with a hopeful smile.  "So I get to tend to you
- if you don't mind?"

Damn, but that sweet voice was close.  He could
almost feel it caressing his skin.

"Gabriel, let me see your neck, okay?"

Close?  It was right behind him now, beckoning
with a concern he was unable to resist.  He
turned and almost reeled at the sight of her
standing before him, the cloak gone.  A simple,
scoop-necked shift fell to mid-calf, fashioned
of muted blue cotton, the tiny row of white
buttons falling over the round belly.  At the
sight of her bare feet, he raised a creased
brow, spying her shoes by the door.

"It's hot in here," she stated, her hands
gesturing to the fire.  "Normally, I suppose it
would be comfortable, but lately, I can't stand
too much heat."  One slim hand settled on her
belly and she winked.  "One second I'm cold, the
next I'm burning up.  Typical, they tell me."

She had no idea what 'burning up' felt like -
his skin was going to melt at any second, just
from the warmth she brought upon him.  Idiot, he
told himself.  Get that look off your face...
the one you know she can read like an open book.

He lowered his gaze in the face of her
curiosity, then started and averted his face at
the feel of her hands on his chin.  "I just want
to see," she murmured.

Squirming under her scrutiny, he shifted from
one foot to the other, his heel catching on the
hem of the too-long pants.  His right hand shot
out and landed on the first thing he could
reach.  Damn.  In spite of her growing abdomen,
her waist felt just as familiar in its curves as
it ever was, sloping beneath his remembering,
greedy fingers... with a jerk, he pulled away as
if burned, then hissed at the actual danger of
the fire licking perilously close to his back.

Pursing her lips, she withdrew to wrap her arms
about her waist, sadness clouding her eyes. 
"I'm sorry," she murmured, her eyelashes
fluttering down as she took his rebuke to heart. 
"I'll just get the first aid kit and you can do
it yourself, all right?"  In a flash, she'd
skittered away.

Damn it.  Gabriel clenched his fist as he
watched her disappear into the bathroom.  Seemed
any course of action was likely to hurt her,
despite being done with the best of intentions. 
Let her get too close and risk physical harm;
keep her at arms' length and hurt her tender
feelings.  He kept forgetting that she wasn't
Scully.  Scully could take his barbs and
retreats for what they were and bounce right
back without missing a beat.  Julia, on the
other hand, was a lost soul with an open,
friendly manner.  It was obvious she was starved
for contact with someone who was a peer; she
needed to be with someone her own age, someone
who could possibly understand what she was going
through.  And he'd just treated her like a
leper.

She came back into the room, carefully avoiding
his gaze as she set the supplies on the table,
and said, "You should be able to do for
yourself."  Before he could make his way to her
side, she'd walked around the opposite side of
the table and grabbed her cloak.

Forcing his legs to move faster, he headed for
the door.  A small, "Damn," accompanied her
attempt to slip on her socks and shoes as she
bent down.  When she straightened, he was set up
like a roadblock at the door.

"Don't go," he whispered, knowing the path he'd
chosen was dangerous.  But the words kept on
coming from his heart and he ignored the alarms
going off in his brain.  "Stay.  I'm sorry if I
-" The apology dwindled as his voice gavve out; 
he put out a hand to touch her, then thought
better of it, forcing it to curl at his thigh as
he bit his lip.

Her blue gaze searched his face, her hands
holding the cloak together in a white-knuckled
grip.  "There's something about you, Gabriel. 
No, wait -" She put a hand on his arm as he made
to sidestep her, then lifted it when she noticed
his flinch.  Her lips curled into a small smile. 
"It's just a feeling I have.  I'm not trying to
corner you, you know.  Maybe I know you from
somewhere... maybe you don't know me.  It's
possible.  Anything's possible."

And well he knew it.  It was foolish of him to
think that she was going to let go of this so
easily; her suspicions, while not yet confirmed,
were still alive and well.  Her lips spoke of
maybes, but her eyes were clear and bright with
certainty.  But he had one leg left to stand on
- his denial of the truth.  As long as hhe
insisted they didn't know one another, she could
not refute it.  It galled him to live this lie,
but for now, it was the only safe path to
follow.

Brushing aside his self-loathing with a sigh, he
decided upon his next words with something that
had served him well in the past.  A bit of
levity was in order, and he tried to deflect her
a bit without crushing her hopes.  "I think I
would have remembered you," he lied, his hoarse
voice wrapped around a leering, joking grin, his
wink aimed at tamping down her rampant
intuition.

One brow went up as her lips pursed with
curiosity.  "You know, I'm sure I believed the
same thing once," she murmured, still trying to
read his face with those piercing, knowing eyes. 
"Gabriel?"

Yes? his brow asked in return.

"Face it, neither of us are in any shape to
actually *do* anything about it... and, at the
risk of sounding like I'm trying to pick you up
in a bar... do I know you?"

Ahhh... would that they *were* strangers in a
smoky, jazz-filled club.  Their eyes meeting
across a room as they sipped false courage in a
glass - slowly meandering through the fading
crowd until their hands touched and the dance
began for them.

He sighed, wondering if they ever had a chance
at such simple pleasures.  They would, if he had
any say in the matter.  For now, just being with
her was enough.  He shook his head and grinned
sadly, gesturing to the table.  "Can I buy you a
drink, anyway?"  It came out as a near ghost of
a question; he'd have to take it easy for the
next few minutes.  Words were something he
couldn't afford to waste, not while with her.

He thought of those months she spent without a
voice and realized it must have been hell.  The
sound and taste of words were something he'd
never take for granted again - and as soon as he
could safely do so, he'd put his lips and tongue
to use.  In a more tender way than ever before.

Thankfully, she chuckled and the cloak fell away
as she kicked off her shoes.  "Whatcha got,
Slick?"  Backing away, she draped the cloak over
one of the kitchen chairs and lifted the lid on
the boiler on the stove.  "Coffee?" she asked,
facing him with a grimace.

More relaxed now, he followed her, easing into
the chair opposite hers with a nod and a half-
shrug.

"No can do, Gabriel."  Eyes filled with mirth
glanced down, then back up.  "He already jumps
around like a basketball player."

At the mention of her pregnancy, Gabriel
colored, though he schooled his face into an
impassive mask.  With a jut of his chin in the
general direction of her stomach he mouthed,
<How far along?> He held his breath while he
waited for her answer.

Julia reached into the cabinet and came back
with a teapot.  As she filled it with water from
the sink, she said, her back to him, "The doctor
doesn't really know for sure - maybe 20 to 22
weeks.  Without my history and the proper
equipment, it's hard to determine with pinpoint
accuracy."  A short laugh followed her to the
stove.  "And someone who's worked as a
researcher before the invasion is bound to have
limited expertise in pregnancy, don't you
think?"

Anywhere from five to almost six months.  Could
be his... then again, could not be.  Mentally,
he slammed the hope down.  No way was that baby
his, and he'd just as soon forget about it.

Instead, his mind latched on the word
'researcher'.  Was this doctor actually one of
his father's people?  Trained in human/alien
genetics, just waiting for the birth of this
baby?  He shuddered inwardly at the thought, but
somehow knew it was so, despite his yearning for
it to be otherwise.  "Researcher?" he asked,
straining his throat with the word.

She rummaged through the cabinet again, this
time pulling out a box of tea bags.  "Decaf,"
she said pointedly.  "Want some?"  At the
negative shake of his head, she continued,
preparing her cup as the water began to hiss
from the teapot.  "Just a rumor I heard - about
the research, you know.  Matthew is primarily
the reason we have a physician in residence.  He
has some chronic condition that flares up now
and again.  Some doctor, though - he smokes like
a smokestack.  So does everyone else at the
Ranch."  Her nose wrinkled with distaste.  "Not
in front of me, thank goodness.  But I can smell
it all over them."

Nicotine.  One of the reasons the bees weren't
as effective as the aliens thought they'd be. 
His father had known this; to guarantee he'd
have a support staff without having to use the
vaccine, he'd surrounded himself with smokers
just like himself.

It made perfect sense to Gabriel.  The old man
had wanted power, yes.  To set himself up in the
capital of the free world like a king on the
highest mountain... but he would have been a
fool not to have a second base of operations. 
How Matthew figured into the scenario had yet to
be determined; maybe he had a younger brother he
never knew about.  The old bastard, despite his
foul breath and proclivity for murder and
mayhem, seemed to get around quite a bit in his
younger days.

Was this doctor experimenting on Julia?  On the
baby, even in the womb?  Even now, taking blood
from the fetus in an effort to keep the old man
alive?  God, he wanted to ask so badly, but knew
the questions would inevitably arouse her
curious nature once again.  He had no right as a
simple guest to be asking about such personal
matters.  But if he was careful... he reached
for the pad and pencil on the table.

<What about a hospital?> he wrote, then shoved
it in her direction.

She stirred half a teaspoon of sugar into her
tea and sat down, taking a small sip.  "We have
everything we need here, they tell me.  Except
for the bells and whistles, of course.  To spare
me the pain, they'll put me under."

And when she woke up, they'd give her the bad
news, he thought.  So sorry, but your baby was
stillborn. *If* she even survived the birth.  A
nice, convenient overdose of anesthesia would do
the trick.

His thoughts turned his stomach and the chair
suffered under his agitation as he stood,
scraping the legs in a harsh rasp against the
floor.  His good hand came up to scratch at his
beard as his thoughts whirled.

"Gabriel?"  Her worried call of his name
followed him to the fireplace.

He had to get her out of here, and fast.  Only
one thing to do.  It was risky, but necessary. 
Turning back to her, he walked to the table and
picked up the pen once again.

<Do you have a computer at the Ranch?> Please
say you do, he prayed.

She raised confused eyes to his.  "A computer? 
Yes, of course we do, but -"

"Friends of mine," he rasped, bringing his hand
up to soothe the stretch of tender, healing skin
on his neck.  "Contact them."

"Gabriel, I don't think it's a good idea for you
to be seen at the Ranch."

With a snort of frustration, he snapped his head
from side to side, wishing like hell he could
speak long enough to explain.  Instead, he
scrawled a hasty, <NO - YOU> on the pad and
pointed at her for emphasis.

"Me?  You want me to contact them?"

He nodded, forcing air through his bruised
throat.  "Come... get me."

For a second, her face fell as she realized he
was speaking of leaving.  A sharp pang of guilt
at the way he was keeping her in the dark
assailed him, but he had no intention of telling
her just yet she would be accompanying him.  How
the hell he was going to manage that, he didn't
know.  Maybe the Colonel had one more plan up
his strategic sleeve.

Lowering her gaze, she shoved the cup of tea
away.  "Sure," she whispered.  "Just tell me
how."

God, he wanted nothing more than to reveal all,
to make her smile again.  To show her she had a
family after all - maybe not in the strictest
sense of the word, but in the most important
way.  She had people who loved her and wanted
her with them.  One day soon... he clamped his
jaw over the urge to comfort her with promises
of the future and quickly wrote the name of the
newsgroup on the paper.

<Don't give your name.  Just tell the Colonel
where I am and that I need help, to come for
me.> And for you, too, he added silently. 
Hesitation at just how much could be revealed to
her on the newsgroup was discarded; they only
spoke in vague generalizations for fear of
discovery, mostly using Gunmen code to converse. 
Frohike would not risk giving away personal
information about her on the newsgroup; he'd
only circulated photographs of other women in
the hopes Gabriel would sense a likeness in the
lost eyes.  If she opened one of those
attachments, he could always shrug it off as
searching for a wife between friends - lots of
men bartered for women that way these days. 
Bought and paid for on an Internet auction
block.

But what if Frohike didn't believe that Gabriel
had found her?  Gabriel scanned his memory
quickly for a confirming nuance only they would
know.  Actually, it was likely the little man
would weep at his keyboard when he saw the next
sentence, knowing Gabriel would only have given
the favor to the one they'd been searching for.

<Tell him I gave you the yellow ribbon.>

The fingers of his right hand trembled just a
bit as he reached into his hair, pulling the
ribbon free with a tug of his fingers.  His
unruly mop threatened to blind him as it swung
free into his face, but it was just as well, as
his emotions threatened to burst forth from his
eyes.  A little cover was called for at this
moment, and he took advantage while he could.

The ribbon was dirty, and small dots of his own
blood from so long ago still marred its
otherwise smooth perfection.  But it was hers,
and it was back where it belonged.

He shivered at the touch of her hand in his. 
The pads of her fingers slid over the satin and
she shook her head, her mouth dropping with
regret.  "Gabriel, I can't take this - it's
yours.  I'll just tell him I saw it... he'll
believe it's you."

Gabriel was adamant in his refusal to take it
back, instead clasping her hand in his to bring
it close to his body.  Holding her still with
the hand in the sling, he used his free hand to
wrap the ribbon around her wrist and hand. <Keep
it,> he mouthed, not hesitating to return to her
this little piece of herself.

Smiling, she lowered her eyelashes, gazing upon
their clasped hands as she ran her satin-wrapped
thumb over his palm.  "You know what this means,
don't you?"

They were engaged?  God *damn* it, he wished he
had the strength of voice to tease her!  Only
somehow, it wouldn't quite be a tease, he knew.

"You no longer have anything to hold back your
hair."  Amused blue eyes lighted on his face and
he gulped, glancing around the cabin with worry. 
Surely there had to be something around there to
tie it back?  His eyes softened with relief as
they caught sight of the gauze on the table.

"Uh-uh," she said, her eyes darting to the gauze
then back to him.  "My price for contacting your
friends, Gabriel... a haircut and shave."

Oh, this was too good to pass up.  Pulling his
hand from hers, he passed his index finger over
her downy cheek.  It hurt like hell, but he
managed to say, "You *are* a bit scruffy."

Her cheek twitched under his finger.  "Nice try,
Slick.  But you're not getting out of it that
easily."  Turning, she reached for the paper
with the contact information on it and her
cloak, then walked to the door, where she donned
her socks and shoes.  "My price is firm,
Gabriel.  Take it or leave it."  She waved the
paper, her hand on the door knob, one eyebrow
cocked in challenge.

He had no choice.  Saying a silent prayer to the
gods that this wasn't a bad move, he nodded,
hoping the sight of his face wouldn't trigger
another seizure.  Somehow though, he didn't
think it would.  The sketch told him that the
man in her dreams was faceless.  And God knew
his wasn't the type of mug women swooned over,
especially since the added repellant of the
scar.

"Good.  Don't forget to clean the rope burns and
re-apply the salve, okay?"  Opening the door,
she turned back with a smile.  "You know, I bet
you're handsome under all that hair.  A quick
mind *and* a handsome face?  Impossible to
resist, you know... I wonder how I'll ever let
you go."

Though the last was delivered with light-hearted
flair, her eyes were sober as they looked into
his, unwavering for a long moment.  She was
serious, he realized.  He could feel himself
begin to falter under that stare.  Then she
broke the spell, chuckling as she opened the
door.

"Geez, Gabriel, that's some panic face you have
there.  Almost puts me off... almost."

As she shut the door behind her, he remembered
to breathe.


End Chapter Ten