Gabriel
Chapter Twenty-Three


En route to Helena
September 24, 2001
11:34 p.m.


An hour's worth of precious time.  It was all he
would allow grief to cloud his mind.  He'd never
let himself cry with concern for her in her
presence except for another bedside breakdown as
she laid oblivious to his sorrow.  Thank
goodness she'd never had to witness either
instance.

With a last kiss to her cheek, he rose from the
bed.  Still asleep, she turned with some
difficulty, rolling over with an unconscious
grunt as her belly presented an obstacle.  He
waited, watching her maneuver the pillows even
as her eyes stayed closed.  One was shoved
between her knees, another two pushed against
her back as she landed on the opposite side,
burrowing into the warmth he left behind.  With
a deep inhale of his leftover scent, she drifted
again.  Problem solved.

A short, watery chuckle burst from him and a
grin blossomed on his tear-stained face.  There
was nothing - *nothing* she couldn't overcome,
not even in her sleep.  Somewhere in that
suppressed memory, the physics of her solution
was scribbled, the white chalk letters
whispering in hushed tones to her sleeping mind. 
Like always, she prevailed.

He would do the same.  For her.  For his baby. 
It wouldn't be easy, and would require an aplomb
once better left to her graceful social and
tactical skills... be he could do it.  He had
to.

A quick wash of his face and he left her room,
this time walking with long, purposeful strides
to the club car.  He would no longer be
detoured, no longer be harassed.  There was no
need; they had his cooperation and they knew it. 
But there was no way he was letting those two
ancient, greedy kings dictate their strategy
from here on out... he had a few aces up his
sleeve, too.  First order of business - position
those aces around the 'man with the axe' in
Helena.  The 'suicide king', taking them all to
hell with them on this train,  probably wouldn't
want his help, but he damn well was going to get
it.

As he entered the club car, three sets of eyes
looked up from a table by the windows, the
liquor in their half-full glasses rippling along
with the steady momentum of the train.

"I need a computer," Gabriel announced.  "And I
need it now."

Krycek leaned back in his chair with a snort. 
"I don't see that you're in a position to demand
anything, Mulder."

Krycek may have thought he cornered the market
on menace, but Gabriel had been hiding in the
guise of hard-assed miner for months now.  In
fact, he'd gotten very adept at intimidation -
you had to, when every man around you would slit
your throat in your sleep for your socks.  He
lowered his voice and steeled his face.  "I
suggest you give me access, Krycek - or this
trip is going to come to an abrupt end in a few
hours."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"  Despite
his bravado, Krycek's face had a definite tic of
anxiety, somewhere below his left eye.

"Just what I said.  If you don't allow me to put
a stop to it, we won't make it to Helena."  That
the roadblock involved a few geeks with
chainsaws made no difference; Gabriel spoke as
if an army awaited the train just around the
next bend.  But instead of pressing the issue
with rash anger, he softened his voice to a
lazy, yet commanding purr.  "Look, I've got just
as much at stake here as Spencer.  And no way
will I give you any more trouble.  But you've
got to let me send out a message.  Even an
hour's delay might mean an interruption my
father will not sit still for."

"I could just *make* you stop whatever it is
you've planned, you know.  Then kill you where
you stand."

"And have Julia wake up to find me gone?  Do you
really want to risk a seizure that could kill
her?"  Just the words made his throat catch, and
he cleared his throat, adding, "So close.  It
would be a pity to have that cure so close with
nothing to bargain with.  And my father's not
known for his freebies."

It worked; he could see the way the men before
him reacted to his name-dropping.  Kurtzweil
shifted in his chair, suddenly interested in a
speck of lint on his sleeve.  Jesse stared at
Krycek with a silent, lock-jawed plea to listen
to the deal.  Krycek downed his drink in one
gulp, standing to say, "You fuck with this,
Mulder and I'll skin you alive, got it?"

Gabriel nodded, giving in to the relief that
broke out under his sweater.  He had to stop
Frohike.  But that didn't mean he was totally
diverting the Gunmen; a little seed of
inspiration germinated in his mind and he
pursued it, going for broke.  "You realize my
father is going to double-cross you?"

Krycek walked around the table, telling Jesse
softly, "Get the laptop from Matthew's room." 
As Jesse quickly left to do his bidding, he
approached Gabriel, almost standing toe-to-toe
as he murmured, "That's why you never could beat
me, Mulder.  I'm always one step ahead of you. 
If you'd bothered to be a bit more polite...."

Polite?  Gabriel sneered, the no-so-gentle
reminder of Krycek's greeting back in Julia's
room a second away.  But Krycek didn't miss a
beat, finishing with, "You'd have found out that
we had no intention of handing her over.  This
is more than a search for a cure.  It's a means
to take care of the thorn in our collective
sides once and for all."  Chuckling at Gabriel's
surprise, he left the club car.

Could it be Spencer really wanted no more of his
father's business?  Yes, the old man wanted his
grandson's cure.  But Gabriel knew that the men
of his ilk cared nothing for no one else - at
least, that's the way things used to work.  Was
it possible that he'd finally grown weary of the
selfishness of his ways?  Spencer was obviously
not well.  Maybe he wanted to leave his grandson
a legacy not of greed, but of old world
nobility.

And what of Krycek?  What was his interest in
all of this?  His involvement made no sense at
all; he was just a mercenary.  Despite Spencer's
easy flow of money, Krycek could have thrown in
with the Appointing Authority and lived at the
top of the world forever.

"He's telling the truth, you know."  Kurtzweil's
statement pulled Gabriel from his incredulous
thoughts.

"Krycek?" Gabriel huffed.  "You're telling me
they won't trade Julia for the cure?  I don't
believe it."

"Sit, Agent Mulder."  At the use of Gabriel's
former title, Kurtzweil dipped his chin. 
"Though I suppose I can't very well address you
that way anymore, can I?"

Gabriel hesitated, then, with a sag of his
shoulders, realized Kurtzweil was offering to
tell a different side of the tale.  One that
he'd very much like to hear, considering that
which was once black and white had turned a
confusing shade of gray.  "Gabriel will do."

Kurtzweil lifted his glass.  "Care for a drink? 
Something to eat?  Jesse's not the best cook,
but he'll do in a pinch." He gestured at a door
at the opposite end of the car; apparently a
small kitchen.  Gabriel could smell the faint,
spicy scent of chili and he declined with a
shake of his head, his stomach still not on the
best terms with the knot on his head.

"I'd rather have some answers."

"I'm just a small cog in the machinery, Gabriel. 
I don't know how much I can tell you."

"Let's start with Spencer's sudden Santa Claus
act."

Kurtzweil sighed, leaning back in his chair. 
"He's told you Matthew was taken from him."  Off
Gabriel's nod, he continued, "He saved me, you
know.  Spirited me away to the Ranch to await
his grandson's retrieval."

"Why you?  Matthew, unless thousands of years of
evolution have suddenly taken a hike, isn't
likely to ever give birth."

"I once worked for the Project.  With your
father -" He broke off with an apologetic tilt
of his head before clarifying, "With Bill
Mulder, but I told you that already.  Although
not in direct contact with Dr. Bonita Charne-
Sayre, I studied her work.  Spencer knew of my
familiarity with her research - I was one of the
only ones left he could trust.  Besides, a dead
man can't exactly consult a specialist openly."

Gabriel commiserated with a nod, remembering the
way he'd slunk around the Pentagon in search of
Scully's cure so long ago.  Being dead may have
been freeing in that regard, but it made it hell
when he rushed to the hospital and had to fight
off Skinner to see her.  And it didn't exactly
endear him to her mother and Bill Scully when
he'd pleaded his case the next day.

"Do you believe my father has a cure for
Matthew?"

"If anyone does, it's him.  What really matters
is - he's willing to part with it in exchange
for Julia."  There was no doubt about that, in
either of their minds.  Gabriel's old man was
nothing if not a master strategist; especially
when his life was on the line.  "We are under no
illusions, Gabriel.  He knows we've got Julia,
and that we've been stalling, hoping to make
Matthew well on our own.  The last thing Mr.
Spencer wants is to give your father the means
to survive.  My guess is, he's going to make the
trade, then send Alex after her again.  This
time, to take care of your old man for good."

"And Krycek?  Spencer I can maybe cut some
slack, but Krycek?  Scully told me he'd pushed
my father down a flight of stairs - tried to
kill him.  Why the hell would he do that if he
was trying to get his hands on Matthew's cure?"

"From what I understand, a fit of frustrated
temper.  Alex may appear to be made of stone,
but believe me, he's not.  Quite possibly the
Russian in him."

Gabriel ignored Kurtzweil's small smile and
snorted, "Still, there's no way in hell he
doesn't have an angle in this."

Kurtzweil pondered the question for a moment,
avoiding Gabriel's gaze as he fingered his glass
on the table.  "That's not for me to divulge."

"Then you know?"

"Yes." As Gabriel began to huff, he added
quickly, "But it's not what you think.  Believe
me, you have nothing to fear from these men."

They were interrupted by the flustered arrival
of Jesse, laptop in hand.  "Couldn't figure out
how to get the damned thing unhooked," he
muttered, placing it on the table in front of
Gabriel.  He hovered as Gabriel powered it up. 
"Listen man, I was just doing my job -" he
began.  Gabriel wondered how long it was going
to take before Jesse tried to apologize.

"Don't worry about it," he answered sharply,
more intent on getting where he needed to be
than to give Jesse a smiling, sweeping
forgiveness.  He waited as he connected to the
satellite uplink, and from the corner of his
eye, he saw Jesse sag into the chair at his
right.

"That ain't good enough," he pressed.  "I can
see how much that woman in there means to you. 
And if I could make it up to you, I would."

"Save it," was Gabriel's terse reply.

"C'mon, Gabe.  I know you think we're all like
your old man, but it just ain't true.  Mr.
Spencer, he started the company years ago,
waiting for the chance to keep your father from
getting his hands on every piece of 'k' he
could."

Gabriel snorted, not looking up as he accessed
the newsgroup.  He hoped Frohike had the sense
to keep his laptop up and running on their
journey north.  "And making millions had nothing
whatsoever to do with Spencer's motives?"

It was Jesse's turn to huff.  "He don't *need*
the money, man.  Every bit of 'k' he digs up is
destroyed.  I've seen it done."

At that, Gabriel looked up from the message he
was composing.  "Destroyed?  How?"

"If Jesse will let me, I think I can best answer
that," Kurtzweil interjected.  Jesse and Gabriel
both fell silent, looking to him as he said,
"The 'k', as it's so erroneously named, is
highly unstable in the presence of iron.  It can
be absorbed by the purest form of the element,
which is itself highly reactive.  What Jesse saw
was a melding process, carried out at one of
several facilities throughout the country."

"But why?  From what I've seen it do, it's an
amazing discovery.  Could revolutionize the way
we live."

"It can also destroy what little we have left in
this world, Gabriel - if it falls into the wrong
hands."

His father's hands, in other words.  He went
back to his message, shaking his head with a
slight chuckle. "I still find it hard to believe
Spencer isn't stashing some away somewhere.  It
would be very difficult not to give in to the
temptation to hold the world at your mercy." 
Realizing he needed a bit of information, he
changed the subject, addressing Kurtzweil. 
"What time are we due to arrive in Helena?"

"Around six tomorrow evening - why?"

Gabriel ignored the question and asked another. 
"And the exchange?  When and where is it taking
place?"

Kurtzweil backed off with a wave of his hand. 
"That I don't know.  Sometime tomorrow night, I
think.  You'll have to consult Alex for the
details."

Oh joy, Gabriel thought.  Just what he needed. 
Another run-in with his best buddy.  Quickly, he
finished his message, instructing Frohike to
meet him at the Helena station at 6 p.m.  But he
didn't send it, not yet.  With narrowed eyes, he
leaned back in his chair, giving Jesse a soft,
"Jesse knows, don't you, Jesse?"

"Whoa, wait a minute."  Jesse sat back, fear
lacing his voice.  "I ain't supposed to tell
anyone, Gabe."

"You said it yourself - you owe me."

"But I ain't crossin' Krycek.  Besides, we got
plans of our own.  Mr. Spencer is gonna have
company guards around every corner.  We ain't
gonna let Julia get away from us, Gabe."

"Let's just say I'll be there as backup."  He
lowered his voice, leaning forward with a
pleading look.  "Please, Jesse.  I need to be
there.  You understand?  I can't take the
chance."  On losing her again, he added
silently.

Jesse clenched his jaw with frustration,
swinging his head to look at Kurtzweil, who sat
nearby with an amused, knowing grin.  Don't look
at me for help, his eyes told Jesse.  After a
moment of Jesse's consternation he said, "You're
dealing with a man who chased this woman all the
way to Antarctica, Jesse.  Do you really think
he's going to let Alex and his men stand in his
way?"

Jesse turned again, bemused surprise on his
face.  "Antarctica?  Are you nuts?"

Gabriel showed him just how 'nuts' he could be
by growling, "If you don't tell me, Jesse, I
won't call off the dogs.  I'll take Julia off
this train in the blink of an eye.  Or we'll
both die trying... along with anyone who stands
in our way.  Spencer can go fuck himself."

The cursor hovered over the 'cancel message'
button as Jesse's eyes riveted to his hand. 
Finally, after several tense moments, Jesse
backed down, rising from his chair to mutter,
"Okay, okay.  Canyon Ferry Dam, nine o'clock. 
But I'm tellin' you right now, Gabe - don't get
in the way.  Mr. Spencer don't wanna kill you,
but he will if you mess this up, got it?"  With
that, he turned and left.

After Jesse made his exit, Gabriel quickly typed
in the location of the exchange and instructed
Frohike to scout out the location before sending
off the message.  Several moments later, he
began pacing the club car as Kurtzweil retreated
to the kitchen.  One thing was certain - he
wasn't known for his patience.  He wanted
nothing more than to get back to Julia, but
stopping Frohike was number one on his 'to do'
list at the moment.  Surely the guys would
monitor the group for any abort messages?  Damn. 
He should have taken the time to set up a cancel
code with Frohike.  But he couldn't have
foreseen the way things had evolved.  It was a
mess he still didn't totally understand - one
that he'd just have to live with for now.

"Coffee?"  Kurtzweil returned from the small
kitchen, mugs in hand, to sit once again at the
table.  "Looks like you're gonna need it."

Gabriel scratched at his beard, giving the
doctor an incredulous, "You really think Spencer
is legit?" before sitting to reach for the cup
of the strong brew.

Kurtzweil sipped at the steaming liquid.  "None
of us is without sin, Gabriel.  Or blameless."

His soft words echoed Spencer's of hours ago. 
Hanging his head, he said, "She is."

"True.  The one person in this twisted web of
lies and betrayal who can hold her head up with
honor.  But the rest of us are getting there."

He looked up into Kurtzweil's calm face.  "Do
you believe a man can change?  Leave behind all
the wrongs he's done and do something simply
because it's the right thing to do?"  He applied
the same reasoning to himself; back in the
bunker, he'd tried to rid himself of the horror
he'd helped perpetuate - the thousands of
innocents he'd been unable to save.  No.  It was
wrong to think of it that way.  He'd sent those
people to their deaths, with the stroke of a
cowardly pen.  It still haunted him, when he let
himself think of it.  Something he didn't let
happen often.  But he knew one day it would grab
hold... and he prayed for the strength to live
on.  And only Scully could help him do that.

"I've seen it happen.  I've done it myself. 
Spencer's done it - so did your father."

"My father?" Gabriel snorted.  "Spencer's
laundry may be spotless these days, but my
father will always -"

"I'm speaking of Bill Mulder.  This man we're
going to deal with... biologically, he sired
you.  But he's not your father, Gabriel."

"I know that." Gabriel faltered, his jaw
working.  "Doesn't mean a thing.  Bill Mulder
was just as self-serving and cold."

"And he was also man who thumbed his nose at the
Project after they took your sister.  He was
powerless to stop them, yes.  But he refused to
help them any longer.  Spencer took another
route."

Once again, he found himself pondering the
unbelievable - that a man like Spencer could
change his ways.  "Spencer once told me that my
father chose hope over selfishness.  You're
telling me now he has finally chosen hope as
well?"

Kurtzweil shook his head, lowering his cup of
coffee to the table with a serious gaze.  "I'm
telling you that he finally chose to fight back. 
In the only way he knows how - by using strategy
learned from the most evil men who ever walked
the earth.  You can't ask a man who's lived his
life in the sewer to suddenly be squeaky clean. 
He's doing the best he can."

Gabriel fell silent, refreshing the screen on
the laptop.  He started at the new message, then
heaved a sigh of relief.  Frohike didn't waste
time asking for an explanation why the hijacking
was aborted; he simply confirmed receipt and
said they'd arrive in Helena a few hours before
the train.  The trip by truck was slow, but they
were making good time so far.  Major roads were
still in good shape.

Not so with the train; it seemed they'd slowed
down a bit.  As Gabriel looked out the window,
the snow seemed to be falling harder than ever. 
Turning back to Kurtzweil he asked, "Will we
make it on time?"

"We should.  Spencer probably allowed a cushion
of several hours.  Did you contact your men?"

"Yes.  They'll meet us in Helena.  I'd
appreciate it if you'd keep that under your hat
for a while."

"No problem.  May I make a suggestion?"  He
watched Gabriel power down the laptop.

Standing, Gabriel shook his head with a chuckle.
"I think I've had more than enough advice given
to me this evening, thanks."  He was anxious to
leave, to catch a few hours sleep.  Preferably
with his arms around Julia.  "I have to get back
to her."

Kurtzweil stood as well, halting his exit with a
soft warning.  "Don't reveal too much to Julia
when she wakes up.  She probably won't remember
anything but vague images of me tending to her. 
I'm guessing you told her I hadn't seen you?"

A flush of guilt suffused him;  he hated lying
to her again.  "She's going to know our plans
have changed when the train isn't stopped."

"Make something up - tell her anything."

Through clenched teeth, he replied, "I can't
keep lying to her.  She's not stupid, you know."

Kurtzweil was insistent, waving off Gabriel's
protest with an impatient hand.  "Listen to me.
Do you really want to answer her inevitable
questions?  Her body is still reeling from
tonight's episode, still very much vulnerable to
another.  And her baby can't possibly stand the
stress, neither can she."

Gabriel knew the doctor was right, but all the
lies didn't sit well with him.  He longed for
the day he could tell her everything.  "Then
what the hell do I tell her?"

"Tell her everything's going to be fine.  That
you're going to save her."  At the roll of
Gabriel's eyes, he added, "The desolate ice
fields of Antarctica didn't stop you... why
should the mountains of Montana?"

Easier said than done, he thought, as he walked
from the club car.  This time, her salvation
wasn't mile-high security of a syringe - it was
the vastly smaller, much more fragile chip no
bigger than her pinky fingernail.  And this one
didn't lie in wait in the catacombs of the
Pentagon - it laid in the palm of his father's
treacherous hand.



End Chapter Twenty-Three