Gabriel
Chapter Twenty


En route to Helena
September 24, 2001
8:13 p.m.


"Gabriel, make love to me."

Her pleading whisper and the brush of her tongue
over his lips made him shiver.  This was not
what he intended when he started this game of
'Remember When'.

"Julia, it's not a good idea."  It almost hurt
to say it.  He began to pull away, but she held
fast, her fingers clutching his half-open shirt
like talons.

"A locked train car, a snowy night, a nice trip
through the forest."  Seductive eyes of blue
flame challenged him, drew him in with a
magnetism he'd not seen in months.  He used to
be the tempter, enticing her with the lure of
mystery, giving her tidbits of information
designed to pull her onto a case despite her
skeptical misgivings.  Now, she unknowingly
ricocheted his words to him, though with
decidedly more amorous intentions.  "We won't
get caught, I promise."

Wrong, *wrong* - but he found himself saying it
anyway, opening the door just a crack.  "Are you
sure?"

"Everyone's either sleeping or eating.  I told
the servant when he delivered my dinner that I
didn't want to be disturbed for the rest of the
evening.  Satisfied?"

They shouldn't be doing this, his rational mind
screamed.  The plan... the plan should take
precedence over the pleasures of the flesh.  But
his skin, his hands, his heart - they all ganged
up on his brain and tamped down his fleeting
reason with one sure fact: they weren't far
enough away from Denver yet.  And she was in his
arms, moaning encouragement in his ear, speaking
to him with her hands and lips of her love and
desire.

Time.  Yes, he had hours to kill.  And while not
the safest course, he couldn't deny that
spending them in the soft haven of her body was
a boon impossible to refuse.  Combined with the
thrill of stolen sex beneath the very nose of
the man he'd vowed to destroy, it made their
tryst doubly meaningful, as if loving her on
this train signified a new phase of their
journey to freedom.

This time, when he pulled away, it was with a
burning, devouring gaze.  She saw it instantly,
and let him stand, following him to sway
slightly by the bed.  Her hands trailed down his
chest to loose the remaining buttons.  "Our
first date?"

Coquettish eyes and sly, soft words accompanied
the opening of his shirt.  His hands were busy
too, lifting the sweater.  "First date, huh? 
Let's see..."  She raised her arms to help him
out, a small, enigmatic smile disappearing under
the green fabric.  "I offered to buy you a
drink, you refused."  Of course, it *was* mid-
afternoon and unbeknownst to him, the first of
several shadowy informants awaited him in the
men's restroom.

"I did?"  She blew the wispy tendrils of hair
from her eyes as her sweater fell to the floor. 
Her camisole clung to her breasts like a second
skin and he sucked in a shaky breath at the hint
of a dusky nipple through the white satin.  "I
was a smart girl."

His eyes flew up at her statement, crinkling at
the corners as he caught her self-assured smirk. 
"Einstein had *nothing* on you, Julia."

"Hmm... I knew it."  Reaching for the belt of
his pants, she quickly freed him from the
restricting denim amidst his hiss, her hand
teasing inside.  "I must have been pretty smart
to stay with you, right?"

His mood darkened just a bit; for years, she'd
assured him she was her own person, able to walk
away if she chose.  Time and again, she'd
stayed, against the protests of family and the
machinations of men with too much power and so
little human compassion.  Even he himself tied
this wonderful woman to him with enticements of
intelligent conversation and occasional peeks
into his depth of feeling for her.

Clearing his throat, he forced light back into
the dark regrets that threatened to overtake his
mind.  No more.  From this moment on, they would
embrace each other as they'd embraced the work -
fully, with an eye toward their future.  "Nah. 
You stayed with me because I stole your car
keys."  Which was true, at least on one lonely
Christmas Eve.

"Hmm... I see.  You make a habit of theft, do
you?"

"Only when it's something worth stealing.  Like
your time."

The soft laughter that bubbled from her lips was
smothered by his mouth.  Enough talk.  Pretty
soon he'd be wallowing in his share of guilt
over her stolen memories and he wanted no more
of it.  He hurried with the rest of her clothes
in between soft, enveloping kisses and clinging,
greedy fingers, throwing back the coverlet and
sheet to burrow into the softness of the bed and
the heat of her body.  Despite the locked door,
he didn't feel secure enough to abandon himself
to total nudity.  It was best he keep his
clothes *and* his wits about him.  Sensing his
leftover worry she said nothing, just laid back
and pulled his jeans low on his hips, freeing
his erection.  It was enough and his arms shook
with anticipation as he lowered his torso, his
shirt tenting around her trembling form.

As he slid his naked skin over hers, he hissed
at the burst of triumph that took his breath
away.  In the next instant, he forced himself to
slow down.   Good intentions aside, as he
trailed wet kisses over her stomach, dim
thoughts of failure crossed his mind.  What if
the plan didn't work?  If she was forever lost
to him... it made him savor the taste of her in
what could be their last time together.

He wished he could cover her body completely,
could push into her as he watched her slide into
oblivion beneath his touch.  But for now, it was
not to be, and he pushed up on his hands and
knees, the command issued in a rasping voice.

"Turn over."

Without a word, she did as he asked, and he
shifted, watching as she slowly gave him the
strong, supple line of her back, her feet
curling around the backs of his knees like two
serpents.  He brought nervous hands to the
smooth perfection of her ass, rewarded with a
soft hitch of breath that accompanied the way
her hips rocked into his touch.  A gentle
squeeze of his fingers over the white
smoothness, then he stretched his body over her,
sliding his hands up her back and down her arms
to coax her from her grip of the pillows.

Chin resting on her shoulder, he closed his
eyes, fighting the pure jolt of animalistic
greed that tempted him into burying himself in
her immediately.  Rubbing his chest over her
back, he took a deep breath, smelling his sweat
and her clean scent mix in the heat of the room. 
It was almost his undoing, but he relaxed over
her, bringing his lips to her ear.  "Let go,
sweetheart," he said, insinuating his fingers
between hers.

Once again she complied, and he guided her hands
to the headboard.  In a second, she'd seen his
purpose, clamping onto the wood, her knuckles
white from expectation.  "Now," she whispered,
the only word from her lips since they'd fallen
to the bed.

Spreading her legs a bit further apart with his
knees, he straightened his back.  Reaching for
his aching member with one hand, he placed the
other on the small of her back, trying to still
the squirming of her hips.  He didn't want to
hurt her, but if her eager search for their
joining went unchecked, he was bound to cause
her some discomfort.

"Julia... keep still.  I don't want to hurt -"

"Gabriel," she whimpered, her head thrown back,
her hair trailing down her shoulder blades in a
fiery beacon that made him want to consume her. 
"Give me more.  Give me my name."

A wave of love pierced him and he bit down on
his lip, afraid of the consequences should he
give in to her demand.  Her name.  Such a simple
request, one easily given.  It wasn't as if she
hadn't heard it from his lips recently - like a
weak fool, he'd lost control only last night. 
Still, he hesitated.

"Please, Gabriel."

In answer, he slowly pushed into her, giving her
some part of what they used to be to one
another.  A distraction, to be sure - one that
made her thighs surge against his as she
countered his move.  He sank deep within,
spreading his fingers over the slender width of
her hips as he sighed with the overwhelming
sensation of fulfillment.  A guttural moan from
her throat reverberated through their joined
bodies... he felt it in his bones, strained
toward it with his first slow, heavy stroke.

The rhythmic rocking of the train spurred him to
faster pumping, but it was with some effort that
he tamped down the urge to rut.  Instead he set
up a steady slide in and out, his hips
culminating each stroke with a frictioned
grinding of his flesh into hers.  He opened his
eyes, staring at the wall before them with the
glazed absence of one who concentrated on
feeling, not seeing.

It wasn't what she asked for, but it was truth
mixed with fantasy, the words that spilled from
him.  Words designed to make her soul sing, her
mind believe.

"Our first dance," he said.  "I held out my hand
and held my breath.  I thought you'd say no." 
Slowly he thrust into her depths, the memory of
swaying with her, the way the world had narrowed
to just the two of them, walking in Memphis...

"I didn't... I wouldn't," she breathed, perfect
in her counterthrusts, urging him on with little
twists of her own.  "More."

God, it was getting difficult to sustain his
rhythm; he was beginning to feel the burn of
overused muscles, especially since his not-so-
nice introduction to the roof of this car.  But
she was nowhere near orgasm.  He'd been with her
enough to know, could feel it not happening. 
And while he wished for nothing more than an
endless hour of lovemaking, it wasn't wise to
linger.  His arms went around her and he sat
back, not breaking their union as he pulled her
away from the headboard to sit upon his lap.

"Oh!"  Her gasp blended with his as he literally
impaled her now, gravity forcing him further
into her slick, hot depths.

His penetration was deeper than it had been the
night before, and he worried it was too much,
growling, "Okay?" as he prepared to pull out
should she protest.

Head lolling against his chest, she let her
hands caress his thighs, her nails scratching
the denim that laid atop the gooseflesh beneath. 
"God, yes.  Go on," she purred.  From his
vantage point at her cheek, he saw her lick her
lips, mouth lax.  "First kiss."

His lips brushed the pulse that thrummed in her
neck.  "New Year's.  2000."  As he pushed up,
the weight of her made his strokes short but
forceful, and she caught her breath.

"E-eight years?"

He didn't waste time by laughing.  "Yep."  One
hand plucked at the pebble of a nipple as the
other drifted over their child, seeking the heat
of their joining.

"Did you..." At the touch of his fingers, she
arched, her vagina tight around his cock.

"Did I what?" he groaned, working her clit now
as he quickened the seesaw of his pelvis.

"Did you love me then?"

Releasing her breast, he cupped her jaw, turning
her head to look into her bright eyes.  "Yes,
Scully," he choked out, leaning in to give her
one kiss after another, his lips branding the
truth on hers with hot, greedy claim and words
of forever.  "I loved you... then and now."

Her hand cupped his face as she shattered around
him, tears mingling with the wet slide of tongue
against tongue.  Salty sweet, he consumed her,
his free hand spreading over her folds to hold
her still as he felt his completion near.  And
it came moments later, his orgasm shooting from
him in powerful, draining spurts.  He didn't
break from the kiss as he stiffened under her,
though his mouth only hovered now, his chest
laboring as he drew cool air in from the minute
space between their lips.

"God, Scully... I love you."  The last tremors
faded as he gave her what he never had before -
sober, honest, commitment.  Hands drifted over
every part of her he could reach in an effort to
reinforce his declaration.  Over the child he
prayed was his... over the fragile skin that
covered an unchanged, brave heart, wrapping his
arms around her until his fingers burrowed into
the soft flesh under her arms....

He stilled, his mushy brain firing as his thumb
glided over a rough patch, a sudden, swift
connection searing him.  She felt his body
tense, noticed his open-mouthed stare. 
"Gabriel?"  Gently, she lifted herself from him. 
Even the last arc of pleasure that knifed up his
gut at the pull of his flesh from hers made no
impact, only a small ripple in a mind alive with
possibility.  Settling on her knees before him,
she cupped his face with her hands, searching
his glassy eyes.  "Gabriel, what is it?"

It was there.  There all along.  Hidden beneath
a natural beauty mark... invading her mind with
insidious purpose.  Unseen, but not impervious
to touch.  Especially by one who had explored
every inch of her body, learned its most minute
differences in skin and texture.

Happiness at his discovery rocked him.  He knew
he was a mess; he could feel his face dissolve
into a thousand riotous cracks of emotion. 
Heavy, silent sobs racked him as he found he
could no longer look her in the eye, his chin
dropping as his hands fell away from her.

"Shh... it's okay."

He sat back on his heels, dimly aware she'd
moved her hands.  His heart mourned the loss of
contact, only to rejoice as she straddled his
lap, her arms going around him.

In a flash, his did the same, viselike as they
grasped her to him, his face falling into the
curve of her neck as his hands wound into her
hair.  "Scu - Scully."  It was all he could say,
all his mind could fashion as he struggled to
regain a modicum of control.  But his body,
needy as ever, tried to chain her to him - and
his heart, that which lived these months with an
aching, hollow existence, pounded with an
anxious plea for her to stay where she was.

He had her back.  For good... as soon as he
plucked that chip from under her arm.

"It's okay.  I'm still here."  Her hands
caressed the back of his neck, soothing the
tight tendons slowly.  "Gabriel, please tell me
what's going on."

Where to start?  One word rose above the
thousands clamoring for release and he wanted to
chance it, so badly he could taste it on his
tongue.   He tried to tell her, but his throat,
hampered by the raw slide of unshed tears,
choked off the name.  "Mu - Mul -"

"It's a good thing I'm not the jealous type."

Soft, snide words came from over his shoulder,
startling them both.  Gabriel turned, hiding her
behind his back as he fought off the blinding
tears and darkness by the door.  Couldn't be. 
No....

His knife, where was his knife?  From the corner
of his eye, Gabriel spied its shiny metal edge
on the coffee table and he cursed himself for
letting down his guard as he fought the
strangling linen around his feet.

Silhouetted in the back-lighting from the hall,
the intruder stood in black relief, his right
hand pocketing the keys that jingled around his
fingers.  "Come to bid my wife a good night and
this is the thanks I get?"

He froze as his feet touched the floor.  He knew
that voice.  Scrambling to pull up his jeans, he
squinted against the bright corridor lights,
disbelief edging his whisper. "Krycek?"

"Oh my God." Behind him, Julia keened with
distress, reaching for the sheet.  "Gabriel -"

"Gabriel?" Krycek's snort was typically cynical. 
"You think you're some kind of angel, Mulder?"

At the name, Julia's fidgeting ceased. 
"Mulder?"

Gabriel turned, fright and an impending sense of
doom making him slow.  "Julia..."

But it was too late.  She swayed, the sheet
clutched to her breast in claw-like fingers. 
"Mulder," she said again, as the blood drained
from her face and her eyes rolled back in her
head.

"No!" Gabriel's anguished cry was lost in the
eerie whine of the train whistle, his hands
inches from her as he crumpled under the blow to
his head.



End Chapter Twenty