Gabriel
Chapter Twenty-Two


En route to Helena
September 24, 2001
9:45 p.m.


They walked quickly past the snowy, frozen
windows, from one car to another, Gabriel taking
note of each with an eye toward future plans. 
Once past the sticking door of the last car,
they entered another just like it.  A harsh-
faced woman peeked from the rear door, giving
them a glare of caution.  He assumed that was
Matthew's room; the warmth that bled through the
cracked door was medicine-laced, tweaking his
nose with unwelcome memories of hospitals and
disinfectant.  He couldn't get a good look
inside, but no matter.  The only use he had for
Matthew was as a possible bargaining tool.  If
he couldn't get to the old man like he wanted,
he'd use the boy somehow.

He paused for a moment outside the next room,
fully expecting to go inside.  It had to be
Grandpa's.  But no, they didn't stop, the nose
of Krycek's gun prodding him to continue.  Once
inside the next car, they stopped before a
solitary door about halfway down the corridor.

Krycek let Jesse have the lead with a firm nod,
and Jesse knocked twice.  "Sir?"

"Yes?"

Gabriel looked up from his scrutiny of the dim
hall at the mild reply.  Was that his father? 
If so, he must have been worse off than he'd
ever seen him.  His voice was not his own, more
distant and hollow than he remembered.  He hoped
the old bastard was well on his way to death
this time.  If not, he'd take care of him soon
enough.  But any suffering his father had
endured would be most welcome in Gabriel's eyes.

"He's here, sir."  Jesse was timid in his
approach, a most unusual side of him emerging in
the face of the boss.  Gabriel could sympathize; 
he'd seen men of all sizes and arrogance cower
before that cold gaze and trickle of smoke.

"Come."

Gabriel straightened as Jesse pushed the door
open, his face hardening in preparation to see
the man who continued to make his life hell. 
Krycek shoved him in, but Gabriel didn't give
his father the satisfaction of a loving embrace
hello, stopping just inside the door as Krycek
and Jesse flanked him.

This car was luxurious - what little he could
see of it, anyway.  It was so dark, with just a
smidgen of light that bled from the cracked
bathroom door to light the floor in front of
him.  But he could tell it was different from
Julia's, much more spacious, certainly.  No
dividing walls, just one massive room, with a
huge bed at the far end and a couch and chairs
arranged around a round, squatting table at the
other end.  The smell of smoke curled through
the air and Gabriel lifted his chin, narrowing
his eyes as he tried to pinpoint its source.

"Leave us," the rasping whisper commanded.

Bingo.  Gabriel's spine stiffened as his hackles
rose; the voice came from a low, deep chair
nestled in the far corner by the bed.

"I don't think that's wise," Krycek protested,
moving closer to Gabriel, his gun poking him in
the side.

Gabriel shrugged away impatiently, giving Krycek
an exasperated glance before focusing again on
the man in the corner.

"I said leave."

The tone brooked no argument and Gabriel's two
guard dogs dispersed, though he had no doubt
they waited just outside the door, listening for
any sign of distress from the boss.  When the
door clicked into place behind them, Gabriel
stepped forward, stopping in the meager light,
hands in his pockets in an attempt at
nonchalance.

"Nice digs," he commented. "Amazing what the
blood and sweat of desperate miners will buy
these days."  No reply, just the clinking of
glass against glass.  In the shadows, he saw his
host take a drink, then heard him clear his
throat before speaking.

"If you're implying that I run a slave trade,
Mr. Mulder..."  The voice lost its paper-thin
quality, becoming cultured and refined.  He took
a last drag on his cigarette before snuffing it
in the ashtray on the bedside table. "I assure
you the company was formed many, many years ago. 
Using my own finances.  If anyone's blood was
sacrificed in its prosperity, it was mine."

What was this?  That wasn't the voice of the man
he'd never wanted as father, the man he despised
more than anyone on the planet. Gabriel drew his
hands from his pockets, wanting to get a better
look at this man by taking another step forward. 
"Who are you?" he asked, stopping when the
figure slowly rose from the chair.

"My name is Spencer.  Always has been, always
will be.  Though you've not known that until
now."  A cane materialized from the shadows by
the chair, clutched in one gnarled hand.

Gabriel's breath left him in a whoosh as the man
came into the light.  God, he'd been so stupid,
certain his father was the one who held Julia at
the Ranch.  He didn't know what to make of this
development, eyeing the English gentleman with
wide eyes as he staggered back a step.  Though
this one-time crony of his father's didn't look
quite the same as when he'd seen him last in the
plush confines of a limousine on the DC streets. 
He'd aged, his once stately physique drooping as
he shuffled forward.

"You survived," Gabriel breathed, putting the
pieces together one by one.  "But how - I saw
the explosion."  At Spencer's pointed silence,
he breathed with realization, "Jeremiah... or
one of them, anyway.  It was *you* who kept him
safe, you who had him infiltrate the tower, who
financed his operations."

A pleased nod accompanied Spencer's reply.  "I
was badly burned.  He healed me... as best as he
could.  My body may look the same, but believe
me, it isn't.  There's only so much a healer can
do when one's feeble body has been practically
torn apart."  He paused, leaning on the cane. 
"Though his work in the tower for me was all for
naught - much to my dismay - you and the
hundreds saved from the trains should thank him. 
If he ever shows his face again."

"And Kurtzweil?"

"I told you then he'd come and gone, Mr. Mulder. 
Or should I say Gabriel?"  Spencer gestured
toward the couch.  "Please, have a seat.  I fear
we have lots to discuss and I tire very easily." 
He moved past Gabriel with the slow gait of one
handicapped by dysfunctional bone and muscle,
collapsing onto the chair across from the couch
with a sigh.

As he did on that summer night so long ago, he
warily circled the man, finally perching on the
end of the couch farthest away, his first
questions bit out through lips very tired of
asking for answers.  "What do you want with her? 
Why take her from me?  Do you work for my
father?  Is that it?"

"Work for your father?" A sneer lifted the
paper-thin cheek. "Why in heaven's name would I
want to associate myself with that piece of
filth?"

"You have before."

"Not by choice, I assure you."

Gabriel wasn't about to be drawn into a
discussion of conspiracy semantics.  "Just
answer the question... why take her from me?"

Spencer reached inside his jacket, then stilled
as Gabriel sat up straighter with the tense
onslaught of anxiety.  "Easy, Gabriel."  He
pulled a small radio from the inside pocket. 
"I'm in the mood for brandy.  Care to join me?"

Relaxing just a bit, Gabriel stood, pacing the
room as he worked out the kinks of his
confinement.  "No thanks."  Spying the light
switch, he flipped it on, ignoring Spencer's
grimace.  It was obvious Spencer had a long,
involved tale to tell and he was going to take
his own sweet time about it.  Reminding himself
of his vow not to stumble into mishap, he
decided not to prod the old man, instead willing
his whirling mind to slow down, to process each
revelation with careful consideration.

Gabriel took the opportunity to look around, one
ear trained to Spencer's terse conversation with
Jesse.  Really nice, though not quite as
luxurious as he'd first thought.  The
furnishings were expensive but not overtly so. 
Spencer was dressed in serviceable denim
clothes, his jacket made from fur-lined
deerskin.  A single photo sat on the table
beside the bed, the smoke from Spencer's dying
cigarette marring the features of a smiling boy.

Matthew.  Very much younger, without a hint of
fear or hesitation, sitting upon a horse with
noble elegance.  As he heard Spencer kill the
radio, he turned, nodding at the boy's picture. 
"Matthew.  He's your grandson, isn't he?"

Spencer nodded.  "My only living relative.  His
parents, his sister Muriel... all lost to the
bees.  Even Matthew was lost to me, for a long
time."

Gabriel moved to sit again, this time not quite
as uneasy as before.  "Lost?  What do you mean?"

"Your father, Mr. Mulder.  Stole Matthew from a
hospital in London the day before I saw you
last.  Held him over my head in return for your
demise.  I knew that evil bastard would never
keep up his end of the deal. The explosion
presented an opportunity to disappear, to seek
out my grandson in one of the many experiments I
knew the Project had scattered throughout the
world.  It was only when Alex managed to break
into the New York offices shortly before the
invasion began that I discovered where he was
being held... and what had been done to him."

The soft tap on the door interrupted their
conversation, but only momentarily.  Gabriel
caught a glimpse of Krycek's stare as Jesse
quickly deposited the tray on the table beside
Spencer, then poured two snifters half full
before exiting again with a warning glance at
Gabriel.  "Have some?" Spencer asked, raising
the glass to his lips with a shaky hand. 
Gabriel declined with a purse of his lips,
urging the old man to continue by his silence. 
He did, balancing the glass on one knee.  "Delta
Glen, Wisconsin.  Do you recall that little
hellhole in the midst of cattle country, Mr.
Mulder?"

The name was familiar, and he had a flash of
wiping barbecue sauce from the corner of
Scully's mouth, the taste of the best ribs he'd
ever eaten still alive in sensory memory. 
"Experiments on kids.  With Purity Control -
alien DNA injections resulting in rampaging
hormones and sudden growth spurts."

"Exactly.  One of the earliest versions of the
vaccine, actually.  Very potent, with high
concentrations of alien DNA, but regretfully
ineffective at fighting the virus."

So that's why Matthew had the body of a young
man, when he should just now be approaching the
lanky height of a sixteen-year-old.  "They gave
Matthew the same injections."  At the old man's
sad nod, he added, "And without them, his immune
system becomes seriously compromised."

The kids in Wisconsin had all developed
influenza within days of the cessation of weekly
alien-tainted treatment.  He hadn't done a
follow-up, but he'd bet his bottom dollar those
children had developed more serious diseases. 
He wondered if they lived out the year.  "But -
Jeremiah?"  Surely the hybrid was able to help
the boy.

"Could only do so much.  Which was very little,
actually.  He could not rid Matthew of the alien
DNA that lives within him now.  Kurtzweil keeps
him alive with daily doses of antibiotics and
anti-virals in an effort to keep his immune
system functioning."

Just like the bounty hunter could not heal his
father, Gabriel realized, Jeremiah could not
heal Matthew.

"Julia told me you were going to seek treatment
in Helena.  What kind of treatment?"  Spencer
had never answered his first question about
Julia, but Gabriel hadn't forgotten; the
explanation would come, he was sure of it.

"It didn't take long to discover that
Kurtzweil's treatment of Matthew is only
palliative.  I needed to find a cure."  He set
his jaw, dipping his chin to level Gabriel with
steely blue eyes.

Piece by piece, it was all falling into place. 
"My father."

Spencer nodded.  "You realize he survived the
collapse of the tower?"

"I suspected as much.  Krycek?" It was the only
possible avenue of escape for his father.

"For God's sake, no," Spencer sneered, breaking
off into a fit of coughing.

Gabriel hesitated, then walked to the pitcher of
water by the bed; his charity in bringing the
old man a glass of water was only to keep him
talking.  He waited until Spencer had downed a
few sips, then took the glass away, setting it
on the table with a splash.  "Go on," he stated
through thin lips, barely holding on to his
temper as he faced Spencer, hands on hips.  "If
Krycek didn't get him out, who did?"

"Your father has more lives than a cat - how the
hell should I know?"  Spencer glared at Gabriel,
then relaxed a bit as he added, "Alex was under
orders to find the cure.  He was to kidnap your
father, to bring him to me."  A deep sigh, then,
"Alas, your father had disappeared by the time
Alex made it upstairs.  When we intercepted the
data downloaded to West Virginia, we didn't find
anything of any use to us.  You and your
friends, Mr. Mulder, were no longer of any
interest to me."

"And my father?  Where is he?"

"We kept an eye on the bunker.  When he made his
move to take Miss Scully, we followed."
     
But didn't move in to help, the bastards.  And
Spencer, Krycek, Kurtzweil - they all knew she
would someday become pregnant and lead them to
Spender.  Gabriel tamped down his fury at their
own selfish motives and jumped on the opening
instead.  "He called her, didn't he?  Because
she was pregnant."

Spencer set his empty snifter down on the table
next to him before leveling Gabriel with a
truthful stare.  "It is my understanding that
the second chip sensed the moment her hormone
levels began to rise.  You'd have to speak to
Kurtzweil for the particulars. Congratulations,
Mr. Mulder.  You're going to be a father."

Dropping onto the couch, Gabriel scrubbed at his
warm cheeks, fighting off the relieved rush of
tears.  Frohike had been right.  Raising his
chin once again, he set his shaking hands on his
knees, searching for control as he whispered,
"But something went wrong.  She never made it
there."

"Alex and his men tracked the helicopter out
west; it made several stops along the way, but
only for a few hours at a time.  It went down
just inside the Colorado border - a mechanical
malfunction, possibly.  There was a trading of
gunfire as Alex tried to get to her.  By the
time the last of your father's men were killed,
she was nowhere to be found."  A small smile
curled his lips.  "Her resilience is amazing. 
Somehow, she made it to Denver, with no memory
of who she was or why she was there."

"But why didn't she follow the call of the
chip?"

"She may have been.  We still have no precise
location of your father's home base.  She was
pretty banged up when Alex found her; half-
starving after several days alone, covered with
bruises and scratches.  Dr. Kurtzweil's theory
is that, though the chip still functions as a
memory blocker, it was damaged somehow in the
crash and no longer has the ability to summon
her."

"She hasn't been called again?"

"No, though you've witnessed first-hand the
results of taxing her memory."  Spencer paused
at Gabriel's regretful silence, then he added,
his voice laced with fatigue,  "I suggest you
speak to Dr. Kurtzweil about all this, Mr.
Mulder.  There's so much more he can tell you
and I really don't have the energy -"

Gabriel stood, looming over the table with a
furious face as he bit out, "I don't give a shit
what you have the energy for," keeping his voice
softly controlled so as not to alert the
watchdogs outside the doors.  "You used her from
the beginning.  Krycek was nothing but your
errand boy - offering her the means to get to
me, only to have her body violated once again."

Spencer's eyes narrowed, his hands clasping over
the handle of his cane.  "Miss Scully and those
computer-hacking friends of yours presented a
most convenient opportunity to find and bait
your father, Mr. Mulder.  Would they have done
all they did if I'd come forward and begged for
the life of my grandson?"

He had a point, albeit a moot one.  What's done
was done, but Gabriel wasn't finished, the
anguish of the past year seeking to find a
scapegoat.  And this feeble leftover from a
cadre of power-hungry men, while not the
ultimate source of his and Scully's pain and
suffering, would do nicely in a pinch.

"Men like you never ask, you just take."  The
new scar around his neck was more than enough
proof of that; Spencer may not have been the one
to call Julia from the bunker, but he had his
hands in just as much spilled blood.  "Just like
the bounty hunter you set up to nab me.  And I'm
fucking tired of it."

"That, I'm truly sorry for," Spencer mused. 
"But that was not my doing; none of us had any
idea the shapeshifter was in Denver."

Taken aback, Gabriel asked, "Then who -"

"Another one of your father's tricks, I presume. 
My guess is he suspected Julia was in the area; 
he knew you'd come sniffing around.  And the
Ranch was too well-guarded for any penetration,
even by the alien.  I believe he planned to use
you to draw Julia out."

There were so many unanswered questions, but
Gabriel grew weary of all the games.  He turned
for the door, intent upon fighting his way off
this train, Julia in tow.  Now that he knew
about the chip, she could never be used again. 
"And you - in your extreme benevolence - sat
back and let that green-blooded fucker take me. 
Proves my point.  Now, if you'll excuse me... I
have better things to do with my time than
listen to your justifications."

"Such a paragon of non-culpability.  It was not
I who set the chain of your father's greed into
motion, it was you."

Gabriel could have walked out the door and into
a fracas with Jesse, but he stilled, facing
Spencer with a stony expression.  "Just what the
hell does *that* mean?"

"Krycek told me your father was well on his way
to dying, Mr. Mulder.  Until you stepped right
into the path of that UFO in Oregon, handing him
the means to survive... and the initiative to
begin colonization."  A sneer coiled Spencer's
face into a grotesque mask.  "Once the aliens
delivered you, there was no one left to foil
their plans.  You fool... always chasing that
which you could not possibly capture.  Including
Julia."

"You saw to that.  The bounty hunter wasn't
successful in stopping me, but Jesse would have
been, wouldn't he?"

"I admit that Jesse works for me, yes.  And he
was assigned to keep you from the Ranch,
initially."

"Initially?"

"You know that Julia has seizures."  Off
Gabriel's silence, he continued, "They were
frequent in the beginning, but mild."

A chill ran down Gabriel's spine.  "In the
beginning?  She told me they were going away."

"They're not as regular, that's true.  But when
they did happen - when they *do* happen, as they
still do - they're more powerful, longer
lasting.  Kurtzweil warned us about the possible
harm to the baby; he noticed her restlessness,
her intent to regain her memory.  She needed
stabilization."  Spencer sighed.  "Jesse knew
you were Mulder - the 'one' Julia so eloquently
muttered about in her sleep.  Unbeknownst to
him, I'd decided to send for you the very day
you disappeared.  We thought you were dead, you
know.  He apologized profusely."

"I'm sure he did," Gabriel muttered, sarcasm
knifing through his words as he began to pace
the room.  This protracted conversation was
making him antsy; the time to make his move was
fast approaching.

"We never had any intention of harming you,
Mulder - you or Julia."

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."  He
touched the tender gash on his temple, then
resumed his pacing.  "So you drafted Krycek in
the role of dutiful husband."

A small grin accompanied Spencer's dry, "A part
that doesn't sit well with Alex, though I'm sure
he's taken great pleasure in throwing their
supposedly blissful marital status in your face
at every opportunity."

He ignored Spencer's attempt at catching him
off-guard, instead replying, "Still doesn't mean
you're doing all this for her safety."

"I don't mean Julia any harm, or her baby. 
Though you must know by now I can't let you just
take her away from me.  Not until I'm finished
with her."

It didn't surprise him that Spencer had ulterior
motives.  This was no friendly disclosure
leading to their possible release.  But what
could he possibly want with Julia?  His mind
raced, the inescapable conclusion he reached
causing frightful nausea to build in his throat
once again.  "You son-of-a-bitch."

"I see your intuitive reasoning has finally
kicked in," Spencer purred.  "We're on our way
to meet with your father now.  With Julia and
her baby, I can bargain for Matthew's cure."

Don't do it, his mind screamed.  You're so
close.  Just walk away and tackle Krycek.  You
can take him, take his gun and lock yourself
inside the locomotive.  The train would be yours
to command at will.

But the half-hour of holding his temper had come
to an end.  More than a year of physical and
mental torture, of manipulations of him *and*
her... the anger welled up in him, threatening
to overflow into a frenzy that would tear the
old man apart as it drove his bare hands to
murder.

"Over my dead body," Gabriel said softly, moving
like a madman as he knocked over the table
beside Spencer, his hands wrapping around the
clammy, wrinkled neck.  "Better yet, yours." 

It was so easy; a matter of moments and the
fragile bones beneath would crack under the
strength of his grip.  The old man gasped, his
eyes going wide as he fought to speak.  "Stop -"
he wheezed out, his cane hitting Gabriel in the
knee as he squirmed.

So what if he got caught?  Slowly, he applied
more pressure, the feral flush of triumph making
his face burn.  No way were they going back to
his father.  He'd see everyone on this train
dead before that happened.  Including himself
and Julia.  Enough was enough.

The beefy hands grabbed him from behind,
wrenching him away from the old man, who doubled
over with asthmatic gulps of air.  Gabriel
struggled against Jesse's hold, but was
effectively pinned like a butterfly under glass,
especially when the manhandling tugged on his
sore shoulder.  His knees buckled at the scream
of his muscles and Jesse let him slide to the
floor.

"I ought to kill you right now."

Gabriel looked up into the barrel of Krycek's
gun.  Grimacing, he rubbed at his shoulder and
lowered his head, ignoring Krycek's fury as he
listened to Jesse tend to Spencer.

"You're a stupid motherfucker, Mulder.  You
always were."  The hammer clicked back, echoing
in Gabriel's ears like a death knell.

The swift blossom of defeat rose in Gabriel's
chest.  Once again, he'd let his heart rule his
head; any second, his brain would ruin the fine
carpet of the boss man's suite.  And Julia would
continue on to Helena.  He was such a fool.

"Alex."  Spencer's sandpaper voice was almost
lost in the hum of the wheels beneath the floor.

Gabriel held his breath, counting the seconds
until oblivion.  Then he heard the leather of
Krycek's jacket shift and crackle; when he
raised his head, the gun was averted, Krycek's
face tight with disappointment.  "Get up," was
all he said, his eyes glittering with warning.

There was no doubt in Gabriel's mind that one
false move on his part would put a bullet in him
faster than he could blink.  Slowly, he got to
his feet, cradling his sore arm in one hand.  A
chuckle bubbled forth, the little smart-ass imp
who lived within him not quite cooperative. 
"And you always were a coward, Alex."

The gun flew up in a flash, Krycek's jaw so
tight it looked as though his teeth could crack
diamonds.

"Enough."  Spencer breathed easier now, waving a
hovering Jesse away.  However, he didn't send
the two men from the room as he'd done earlier. 
Looking at Gabriel with wary, red-rimmed eyes,
he said, "You hothead.  Nothing like your
father."

"I take that as a compliment, sir."  He grinned,
which infuriated Spencer, who slapped at Jesse
with his cane.

"Sit him down," he ordered.  Jesse complied,
none too gently, forcing Gabriel to the couch
opposite Spencer, who rubbed at his neck as he
addressed Gabriel.  "If it were just you
involved in this, I'd have you thrown from this
train.  But Julia knows you're here now.  Still,
why I'm bothering to explain myself to you is a
mystery."

"A conscience?  Forgive me if -"

Spencer cut him off, leaning forward to say
softly, "But it's not only my grandson who needs
your father's assistance... Agent Scully's life
also depends on the success of this trip.  You'd
be wise to hear me out, Mr. Mulder."


*******


10:29 p.m.


They didn't hold him back as he rushed from
Spencer's car.  Stumbling, really, fighting the
sway of the train, his heart pounding in his
chest with every murmur of disbelief.

"No, no."  Over and over, his litany of denial
forced his weak legs forward, Spencer's words of
a few moments past reverberating in his brain.

<It was gone when we found her.>

His fingers slapped against the icy glass that
lined one side of the corridor over and over,
seeking purchase to help him remain upright.

<It's only a matter of time.>

God, he'd never make it to her room.  Once
again, the nosy nurse gave him a glare as he
passed Matthew's room.  This time, he smelled
not only hospitals, but death.  It turned his
stomach, but he kept moving.

<She'll be lucky if she survives the birth.>

He had to see her, to believe this wasn't true. 
A doubting Thomas, his fingers itched to touch
the unmarred expanse of her skin - in this case,
hoping to find no scars.  To find the little
bump under the skin she'd had the Underground
doctors make perfect; to smile at its security,
at the beauty and the complex, valuable life it
held in its grip.

At last, he made it to her door, flinging it
open amidst Kurtzweil's quieting shush.  His
gaze flew to the bed; Julia was sleeping.  More
peacefully than when he'd seen her last, curled
on her side in a normal, relaxed clutch of her
pillow.  He saw the lace edge of a white
nightgown peek above the blankets.  She looked
warm.  She looked safe.

"She woke up a few minutes ago," Kurtzweil
whispered.  "I think she didn't want to say much
in an effort to protect you.  But I asked her if
she remembered what happened and she told me no,
so be careful what you say."

Gabriel slowly brushed past him, unable to take
his eyes off the smooth face that had regained
some color.  Slightly pink now in the glow from
the lamp, her skin looked healthy, her lips open
as she took in slow, deep breaths of warm air. 
It couldn't be, it just couldn't.

"Is it true?" His question hung in the room.

Kurtzweil sighed behind him.  "I'm afraid so."

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gabriel grated out,
"Are you sure?  Did you actually look?"  Though
Spencer had told him so already, he wanted to
hear it from Kurtzweil's lips.

"I did.  Went deep, as Alex instructed, knowing
she'd buried it when she went Underground for
the plastic surgery."  Behind him, he heard
Kurtzweil move to the door.  "I'm going to check
on Matthew, then I'll be in the club car.  I'll
tell you anything you need to know, Mulder." 
Light sliced across the floor at Gabriel's feet. 
"I'm sorry."  With that, he shut the door behind
him.

Like a thief, he stole to the other side of the
bed, gently settling behind her.  The warmth of
her crept through his sweater and he inhaled
deeply, his breath hitching with a strangled sob
as he laid his head on her pillow.  Sudden
fright at what he'd find gave him pause; not yet
- he wanted to be certain there was a  tomorrow.

In the lamplight, his knuckles were dusky with
the onset of bruising, his fingers stiff from
clinging to the roof of the car.  They slid over
her covered arm, coming to rest over the child
as he sighed, his eyes closing with the
reprieve.  It still moved.  She still lived.

Julia stirred with a sough of breath, her legs
stiffening before she relaxed, a contented smile
curling her lips.  "You're here.  Dr. Kurtzweil
must have left."

Gabriel pushed the cobwebs down with a swallow. 
"Yeah."

"I didn't say anything." Her sluggish words
betrayed her; she obviously didn't know she'd
had another seizure.  "The doctor came to see
me... is that why you disappeared?"

This time, his, "Yeah," was whisper soft as his
throat ached around the word.  He curled around
her, giving her cheek a kiss as his hand
entwined with hers.  The memory of the calm
before the storm in Oregon so long ago made him
long to turn back time, to stop the chain of
events that led them both to this sorrowful day. 
But it was not to be, no matter how hard he
wished it so.  "You okay?"

"Mmm... I'm tired." Her eyes remained closed as
she scooted her backside into the cradle of his
hips.  "What happened?"

Careful not to give too much away, he replied,
"Too much me."  Nuzzling her hair with his nose,
he added, "I've never had a woman faint on me
before while having sex, Julia.  I don't know
whether to be flattered or dismayed."

Ignoring his attempt to make light of the
situation, she asked solemnly, "I had another
seizure, didn't I?"  Her tone implied that he'd
better not try to lie to her.

So he didn't.  Although he did prevent her from
turning to face him when she made to move,
saying, "You did.  Scared the shit out of me."

She tensed in his hold.  "The doctor - did he
see you?"

There was no way to get around the question. 
Now was not the time to explain all that had
happened in the past hour.  But she knew enough
to suspect he'd been discovered - in her mind,
by the doctor alone.  He hated lying to her
again, but it must be done.  Until he had a
chance to figure out what course he'd take next. 
"I buzzed his room, yes."

"Oh, Gabriel..." Her voice trailed off in a
watery sigh.

"It's okay.  Believe me, Julia - it is.  I made
myself scarce until he left."  It was a lame
explanation and he knew it, hoping she wouldn't
ask for details.  He forestalled her weak
argument by squeezing her hand; she was about to
drift off to sleep again and soon, her protests
would fade away.  Bringing her palm up, he laid
a kiss in its soft depths before he said,  "The
most important thing is that you're okay...
you're fine."

She tilted her chin, sighing as she said, "I
told you, Gabriel - they're nothing to worry
about.  It just exhausts me, that's all."

<It misfires.  As a backup, it will soon cease
to function.>

He crammed Spencer's ominous words into the dim
recesses where the slim dregs of hope clamored
for release.  Maybe they were wrong.  Maybe it
was still there and undetectable by touch.  He
hadn't felt it in his inspection of her in the
tower.  Maybe they were all lying to him still -
they'd hadn't even looked for it.

<We've looked for it.  Nothing.>

But he knew better.  She wasn't fine.  The
seizures, her fragile posture, despite the round
weight of his child.  His lips trembled as he
nodded, words escaping him.

A broad yawn preceded, "The plan is still on,
isn't it?"

This time, he couldn't stop the hot drop that
bled from his eye to trail down his nose.  It
was with a husky voice that he answered, "Yeah. 
You just rest, okay?"

"Stay a while longer?  Just 'til I fall asleep
again?"  Her words were slurred, the grip on his
hand easing as she gave in to the pull of
fatigue. "An' wake me before the Colonel...
takes me time... get dressed..."  She trailed
off.

"Okay."  Giving her cheek another kiss, he
whispered, "I love you, Julia."

"Love you," she echoed, though in the next few
seconds she was gone from him, lost in a deep
sleep.

Proof was necessary, but it was with dread he
decided to look.  All his life, he'd believed
with just snatches of debatable evidence.  But
this was different - as long as it wasn't seen,
it wasn't to be believed.  He took a breath,
then two, summoning the strength to continue.

Slowly, he pulled his arm from around her,
drawing back just a bit to sweep the hair from
her neck, uncovering her skin.  The scar was
slightly longer than before, pink with new
growth, her skin not unblemished as it was in
the tower.  The pad of his thumb brushed over
it, pressing down over... nothing.  He even
pinched the skin between his fingers.  Still
nothing.

<Without that chip, she *will* die.>

As he cried, he pressed his mouth to the
emptiness.  And he believed.



End Chapter Twenty-Two