Gabriel
Chapter Twenty-Five


En route to Helena
September 25, 2001
2:18 p.m.


He left her sleeping, the pregnancy demanding an
afternoon nap, she'd explained.  All morning
long, he'd itched to see Spencer one last time,
to warn the old man not to pull a fast one. 
Despite Spencer's assurances and Kurtzweil's
faith in his motives, Gabriel couldn't rest
easy.  Julia had been a pawn in the Project's
games too long for trust in anyone to take hold.

They'd watched the snow-covered plateaus of
Montana give way to rolling hills as the train
lumbered ever closer to their destination. 
Julia spoke of the future, drawing from him the
admission that their days ahead would most
likely be spent in Canada with the Colonel and
his friends.  She'd smiled at that and her
cheeks had bloomed with color as she'd remarked,
"This may sound crazy... but I think the Colonel
has a little thing for me."

Rolling his eyes, he'd refrained from saying
that Frohike worshiped the ground she walked on,
instead remarking playfully, "You always had a
thing for military men and he knows it."  One
day, she'd be able to embrace the memory of her
father without reservation.  Just another reason
she needed to be Scully; their child deserved
the untainted ancestry she could provide.

With a pucker of her lips, her brow raised as
she hinted around.  "Oh really?  Were you ever
in the military?"

Chuckling, he replied, "Does being an Indian
Guide count?"

Without missing a beat she snapped back, "Did
you ever wear a loincloth?"

Shifting beside her on the couch, he answered
her with a tentative, "Yes," his mind filled
with the image of himself clad in that awful
fringed vest, feathers sticking up from his
Brylcreemed hair.

"Then I'd say it definitely counts."

Dropping his chin, he gave her a sidelong
glance. "I was eight."

"Hmm... well, one of these days we'll have to
test my theory."

Dread filled his chest as he slowly asked, "What
theory?"

"That besides being attracted to military men,
I'm also turned on by men in loincloths. 
Something tells me there's a correlation.  After
all, a uniform is a uniform."  She dissolved
into laughter at his groan.

It had been a blissful, carefree morning,
harkening him back to days and nights spent
discussing everything from baseball to the
nuances of subatomic particles.  Cramped
quarters, eating day-old doughnuts and drinking
stale coffee as they sat in a Bureau sedan, or
in the dive across the street from the center of
their latest case.

Taking care not to let her delve too deep into
their past, he let her explore, only giving her
a cautionary glance when she tiptoed into a
potential minefield.  They spoke of light, airy
things... how she never let herself laugh at his
lame jokes, though he knew all along she wanted
to.  How her apartment was her haven, filled
with scents and overstuffed furniture; how he
considered it more of a home than his own sparse
living quarters.  Not fully explaining what they
did before, he told her they traveled quite a
bit on business.  Government work, he said with
a downplaying grimace, as if they lived with
boredom every minute of the day.  At that, she'd
not pursued it any further, buying into the old
'deadhead grunt' scenario with ease, though her
eyes had told him she knew he wasn't being
completely truthful.  He knew she'd get around
to digging more eventually - she wasn't one to
let an issue slide, not even as Julia.  It
hadn't taken him long to find that out, as he
recalled the first day in the cabin.

Time had flown that morning; before long they'd
found themselves eyeing each other over a light
lunch of chicken soup and crackers.  All that
was safe to say had been said, at least in his
mind.  Seeing her drooping eyelids and
suppressed yawn, he'd made her climb into bed,
gently extricating himself from her efforts to
entice him into the soft cocoon.  With a promise
to linger while she slept, he gave her a kiss
and watched her breathing become deep as she
gave in to her fatigue.

Now, as he walked the corridor to Spencer's
room, he noticed the snow outside had stopped,
though the day was still dismal, with no hope of
clearing just yet.  The sight of Jesse blocking
the corridor gave him pause momentarily, but he
forged ahead, resolution steeling his jaw.

"I need to speak to him."

Jesse crossed his arms.  "He's not in there."

Gabriel felt anger flood him.  "Like hell he
isn't."

Jesse grabbed his arm, preventing him from
barreling through the door.  "He's in the boy's
room, Gabe," he said softly.  "The kid took a
turn for the worse last night."

He saw the truth in Jesse's eyes, but felt
nothing other than slight sympathy.  The days
had long gone where he let the innocent alter
his goals.  Visions of the Lucy Householders,
the Marty Glens, the Richie Lupones... he
squashed them in an instant, knowing Matthew had
the power to sway him.  To sway *her* as well. 
All that mattered was her safety.

Turning from Jesse's solemn stare and stifled
curse, he made his way back to Matthew's room. 
Shrugging off Jesse's grip he entered the
shadowy, hot quarters, immediately assaulted by
the same smell of sickness he'd sensed last
night out in the corridor.  The room was lit
only by a lamp beside the bed, and Spencer sat
by it, his wrinkled hand clasping the boy's limp
fingers.  A shadow appeared at Gabriel's side
and he stiffened at the low warning.

"Raise your voice even a hair and you die right
here.  I don't care if we have to sedate her the
rest of the way, you understand?"

Gabriel shifted slowly, lifting his gaze to
Krycek.  His long-time adversary stood firm, the
shadows under his bloodshot eyes speaking of
hours, possibly even days since he last slept. 
But other than his haggard face, there was
nothing about him that betrayed a lack of
alertness.  The hand that held the gun was
steady, his jaw clenching as he bored Gabriel
with his strong, daring gaze.

Over the years, he'd seen Krycek present him
with many faces, depending on which side of the
fence he stood at that particular moment in
time.  Intimidation courtesy of a handgun, calm
deception with purred, cool lies.  Hell, he'd
even seen squirming fear quite a few times when
Krycek was caught straddling that same fence,
with nowhere to turn but to his old friends in
the FBI.

But this - this quiet, unflinching desperation -
this was different.  Yes, he was armed.  And
from his stance, definitely ready to blow a hole
in Gabriel's chest in a second, despite their
company.  It wasn't the threat that surprised
Gabriel, it was the motive behind it.

Concern.  Gabriel had missed it when he first
confronted Krycek last night.  But then again,
Krycek's face hadn't been hollowed and haunted
by lack of rest as it was now.  Try as he might
with his icy voice, his eyes gave him away.  For
an instant, the dark pupils darted to the bed as
if to check on the grandfather and grandson,
then they slammed back to Gabriel as he
repeated, "Do you understand?"

With a nod, Gabriel answered, "How's Matthew?",
making a silent promise to himself to get to the
bottom of the unspoken undercurrents in the
room.  Then again, maybe he wouldn't.  Mentally,
he shook off his curiosity, remembering the
purpose for this trip - and his own personal
goal of getting her out of the web of deceit
once and for all.

"Leave us, Alex."  Spencer didn't even turn
around, didn't hesitate in his vigil by the bed. 
If possible, he looked older this morning than
he did last night.  Hunched over the boy like an
ancient stone statue, the only sign of life the
slow arch of his back as he drew in breath.

Krycek was just as stunned as Gabriel, maybe
even more so, as he stepped forward.  "I don't
think -"

Spencer cut him off with a brusque, "Do as I
say, boy.  Go get some rest.  You're no good to
me if you can't see straight."

Stiffening, Krycek pulled up short, pocketing
the gun with a short sigh.  As he turned, he
gave Gabriel one last glance, his eyes narrowing
with silent threat.  Hands in pockets, Gabriel
gave him a defiant stare in return, though he
took a step back in an effort to show he wasn't
after a confrontation.  Not yet, anyway.  That
depended upon Spencer's believability in the
next few minutes.

After Krycek left the room, Gabriel let things
quiet down for a few moments.  The only sound
besides the roll of the wheels beneath them was
the rhythmic beep of Matthew's heart monitor. 
The kid was either asleep or unconscious;
Gabriel figured it was the latter.  He laid
still as death in the bed, his face pale and
almost yellowish with ill humor.  A twinge of
sympathy for the boy rose in Gabriel and he
asked again, "How is he?"

Though he didn't face Spencer fully, he could
feel the man's lips purse with annoyance.  "I
don't see how you could possibly care, but he's
not doing well.  Not well at all."

Old, familiar guilt clouded Gabriel's face.  The
hard edge he'd honed over the last year had
devoured any semblance of compassion left in him
and he didn't like it at all.  It seemed as
though Mulder had truly died when he melted into
the Oregon forest and a new, selfish man was
born.  Though still wary, he decided to let a
smattering of concern surface, if for nothing
more than to pander to the old man's temporary
hold over them.

"Julia's worried about him," he said, which was
true.  She'd wanted to visit Matthew, but
Kurtzweil deemed it unwise, given the boy's
compromised immune system.  Gabriel had agreed
earlier this morning, telling her he'd check on
the boy.  He neglected to mention he had another
agenda; she didn't need to know everything.

Spencer finally turned, releasing Matthew's hand
to raise disgusted eyes to Gabriel.  "And you
are obviously not.  It's not the first time
you've used a child for personal gain and it
probably won't be the last, will it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Gibson Praise.  Ring a bell, Mulder?"

Gabriel felt himself pale just a bit but he
stood firm.  "I wasn't the one who sliced his
head open like a watermelon."

"No, but you knew what he could do.  How he
could communicate with them, just as we - just
as my former associates did.  Though no longer a
part of their evil agenda, I was kept informed."

"By Krycek."  Of course, it made sense.  If
Spencer's tale was to be believed.  He still
didn't trust the man not to lie to him.

Spencer nodded slowly.  "Alex told me how Agent
Scully had a soft spot for the boy.  And how you
wanted nothing from him but your proof.  So
spare me your feigned concern - it's insulting."
He let the words hang in the air a moment then
added with a sigh, "What do you want, Mr.
Mulder?  I know you're not here to check on my
grandson."

True.  And, as much as he longed to deny his
single-minded treatment of Gibson, he knew he
couldn't.  If not for Scully's intervention at
the motel, he would have dragged the boy back to
the nuclear facility with him.  But it ended
badly, anyway.  It was no use rehashing the
past.  He took a step forward, face hardening. 
"We have unfinished business."

"What?  Afraid I'll hand Julia over and not look
back?"

"Forgive me if I still don't quite believe
you'll let us go."

"This from a man who once believed in everything
but God."  Spencer's face sagged.  "There is a
God, Mr. Mulder, believe me.  He's taking great
pleasure in making me pay for the sins of my
past."

Impatience flared, dispelling Gabriel's
lingering sympathy.  "I don't think God cares
enough about you to make you suffer."  A
philosophical discussion wasn't something he was
prepared to enter into, especially with a man he
held just as responsible for the world's demise
as his father.  "It's beside the point.  You're
just like the others... just like my father. 
Just like Krycek.  God gave up on you long ago."

"You're right.  I am just like your father.  In
more ways than one."  Narrowed eyes stabbed at
Gabriel with swift surety.

Spencer's soft words grabbed him in a fearful
grip.  "I knew it," he breathed, slowly
approaching the bed.  "You don't mean to give me
Julia."

"You'll get your Julia, Gabriel.  As soon as we
get what we want."

"We?"  It was the first time Spencer had spoken
in the collective, and it set off instant
alarms.  "What do you mean - *we*?"

"I told you I was like your father, didn't I? 
In many ways."  He stood, teetering on his cane
as he added, "You take great pleasure in
questioning the motives of everyone you deal
with, Mulder.  But you never get past your
hatred long enough to see that we're all human. 
Me, Matthew... Alex.  Just like you."  The
emphasis on the last statement was deliberate.

What the hell did Krycek have to do with any of
this?  It was a question he'd asked Julia long
ago, and she had no answers either.  Yet he kept
turning up like a bad penny.  Insinuating
himself into their lives, helping one second,
creating havoc the next.  Always disappearing
and surfacing with convenient ease.  But why?

The Consortium had been a tight-knit group - a
family, almost.  Men who prided themselves on
their unity.  Men who were willing to protect
Nazis to ensure their children survived the
coming holocaust.  A runt like Alex Krycek had
no place in the fold... or did he?

"Think, Mulder." Spencer cut into his confused
thoughts.  "Why would Alex go to the lengths
he's gone to help me?  Money?  What use is money
these days?"

Sudden clarity chased away the clouds of
confusion.  "Julia told me back in the bunker
that Krycek said he wanted to find himself.  And
he has... he's yours.  But you told me Matthew
was your only living relative."

"Alex prefers to keep his distance from me." 
Spencer dropped his chin and Gabriel marveled at
the small display of regret.  "We share blood,
but not much else."

"Like me and my father." Mouth falling open with
surprise, he added, ""Born of the Project, just
as I was."

Nodding, Spencer sighed.  "In his case, he was
not raised in the safe confines of stoic New
England, protected from that which created him. 
No - Alex is the result of a joint Russian-
American effort to produce a child of superior
ability.  Much like yourself."

Gabriel snorted, picturing a young Alex Krycek
pampered by this man.  Taught to sip tea while
he practiced kill shots.  "What went wrong?" he
asked, his snide implication making the old man
bristle.

"What went wrong - as you so nastily put it - is
that he was never mine.  Bartered away by your
father in a futile effort to appease a hostile
government.  Raised by Russian parents who fled
their country when they realized they couldn't
protect him."  Anger flushed Spencer's cheeks. 
"I had no idea where he was until your father
produced him for indoctrination into the
Project.  Even then, I didn't know *who* he was. 
It wasn't until I ran into Kurtzweil again that
we put the pieces together.  Sadly, it was too
late for Alex."

Disbelief edged Gabriel's, "Yeah, right.  Raised
by you he would have been a Nobel Prize winner."

Spencer's jaw tightened, but he kept his fury to
a simmer.  "And you're the Messiah, is that it?"

Gabriel's snide grin faded.  He always thought
himself better than Krycek, better than the men
who played with the world like tinker toys. 
Before, when his existence revolved around
finding the truth.  Now, with millions dead and
no redemption in sight other than her love and
trust, he wondered if he'd ever feel clean. 
Spencer was right.  He wasn't without blame. 
Nor would he ever be.

"No one is who they were... *Gabriel*.  They
will never be so again."  Spencer turned,
leaning on his cane as he looked sadly at his
grandson.  "The innocent pay for our
transgressions.  And we atone in any way we can. 
Alex knows this.  Like me, like you... he's
trying."

Silence settled over them as Gabriel took the
words in.  Could it be they really were tired of
the machinations and manipulations?  Possibly,
though Spencer had admitted to keeping him away
from Julia until they had no choice but to bring
him close.  That still rankled; it smacked of
conspiracy, despite Spencer's golden words of
remorse and restitution.

"Look, this little family reunion means nothing
to me," he stated, searching out Spencer's gaze
with flinty eyes.  "I'm here to tell you not to
cross me.  Once this is over, Julia leaves with
me, understand?"

"I have no desire to *cross* you, Mulder. 
Though you're really in no position to make
demands, you realize."

"I think you underestimate my resources." A
bluff, to be sure.  But delivered with a low
growl that made Spencer stiffen; Gabriel saw the
memory of his attack on the old man last night
bloom in his eyes.  He moved in, one final
demand issued in a deadly voice.  "I want to be
there when the trade goes down."

"No, you can't -"

"I can.  Canyon Ferry Dam.  One way or another,
I'm going to be there."

Spencer wilted.  "Stupid Jesse."

Gabriel ignored the angry words.  "I'm no fool -
I know better than to show my face to my father. 
But don't stand in my way if - *when* - things
sour.  Don't ask me to stand by and do nothing."

"Fair enough."  His host straightened with a
warning of his own.  "All I want is Matthew's
cure.  You screw that up, Mulder, and you'll not
walk away with Julia.  You won't walk away at
all."

He had no doubt they both were willing to kill
to get what they wanted.  Two warriors needing
the one thing that made their lives worthwhile,
they would fight to the bitter end.  Nodding, he
turned for the door.  "Then we understand each
other."  Reaching for the door knob, he gave
Spencer a parting shot.

"I'd like to say it's been a pleasure doing
business with you.  But my good manners will
extend only so far.  My father taught me well."


*******


Near Helena, Montana
September 25, 2001
5:24 p.m.


"I get off before we get to the depot."  He
shrugged into the coat Kurtzweil had given him
earlier in the afternoon; he could pass for one
of Spencer's guards now, but he didn't want to
take the chance one of his father's spies would
recognize him at the Helena station.  And he
knew damn well the spies would be out in force.

"How?  By jumping off?" Julia asked, with
incredulous eyes.

"How do you think I got on the train?"  At her
sudden white-faced surprise, he chuckled, "I'd
have given myself a ten, but the belly-flop kind
of ruined my graceful form."

She closed her mouth with a gulp.  "Jesus,
Gabriel," she whispered, moving to the window.

Wrong time to be flippant, he realized.  "I have
to meet the Colonel, Julia.  Make a few
arrangements for our eventual departure.  And
you know I can't take the chance one of the
company guards will spot me."

The train was slowing with every second that
passed.  Though it had long since stopped
snowing, the overcast skies hastened nightfall
and the scenery outside the windows before them
faded fast.  Julia stood with crossed arms, her
face pinched with anxiety as she watched them
crawl ever closer to Helena.  She wasn't pleased
that he was leaving her on the train; she knew
he'd been discovered by Spencer, and didn't
understand why they couldn't just leave together
once they reached their destination.  But she
still believed he was a wanted man, not knowing
Spencer *was* the company.  It was best that she
continue thinking him in danger; it made his
early exit from the train imperative without any
further explanation.

"Take me with you.  I can walk, you know.  I'm
fully rested and ready."

She'd slept almost four hours, waking with a
start a half-hour ago, her frantic gaze settling
down when she spied him on the couch.  Noticing
the time, she'd immediately gotten up and
dressed, mild censure in her voice as she
chastised him for not giving her more time to
prepare.  God, how he'd hated to tell her she
wasn't coming with him.  Not yet, anyway.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he felt the
tense ridges of fragile bone beneath and sighed,
softly kneading her anger away.  Her fragrant
hair beckoned and he dropped a kiss into its
silky mass, murmuring, "I won't be long, I
promise.  I'll come back for you."  The lie of
omission pained him and he squeezed his eyes
shut, railing inwardly at the tantalizing
picture her words created.  It would be so easy
to just step off the train, the two of them. 
Disappear into the wilderness and never look
back.

Then a month from now, maybe two, he'd watch her
die in his arms.  No.  It had to be done this
way, even if it meant steeling himself against
her pleas.

"You're not coming back, are you?"

Soft, sad words that pierced him, forcing his
arms to encircle her. She knew something was
afoot, intuitively sensing his inner fear and
anguish with the situation.  He should have
known she'd catch on just like she did this
morning - her quick mind demanded answers.  With
a small shake of her he insisted, "I am."  His
hands spread over hers and together they cradled
the child.  "I came this far for you, Julia.  No
one is going to stop me from leaving with you."

"Then why not take me with you now?"

"I already told you -"

"No, Gabriel." She moved from his embrace to
stand before the next window, bringing her hand
up to the glass.  The meager lights of Helena
shone in the near distance and she spread her
fingers, resting her cheek against her
outstretched arm.  "You're not telling me
everything.  I know you said you couldn't, which
I understand.  But this separation... I don't
like it.  Something tells me we shouldn't be
apart anymore."

If what she was feeling was anything like the
dread gnawing at his stomach, then he understood
perfectly.  There was *nothing* he liked about
this plan of Spencer's.  But there wasn't a God
damned thing he could do about it.  Except be
there and hope for the best - while prepared for
the worst.

Stepping around her, he gently took her icy hand
from the window and warmed it between his,
giving her a small smile as he brought it to his
lips.  From under lowered lashes, he gave her
what he hoped was a light-hearted, reassuring
look.  "Can't stand to do without my charm for
even a little while, eh?"

Julia didn't bite, instead pulling her hand away
to flash him an angry look, hands on hips.  "I'm
in no condition to hare off after you.  Not this
time.  Especially not if you end up in Alaska
again."

Even with the slow hum of the train, Gabriel
knew they could have heard a pin drop onto the
carpet.  Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, they stared
at one another for a few seconds, until Julia
began to sputter.

"Gabriel - Alaska... I followed you to -"

"So you did," he said slowly, feeling his smile
light up the dim room.  He took her flushed
cheeks in his hands and bent down to give her a
lingering kiss, directing the conversation onto
an easier path.  After several moments, he
reluctantly left her mouth, drawing her close to
breath into her neck, "We have followed one
another to the ends of the earth, Julia.  One
last little detour won't make any difference,
believe me."

Her arms wrapped around him as she tucked her
head under his chin.  "It better not.  This..."
Spreading her fingers across his back she pulled
him close, the human basketball between them
pushing into his stomach with subtle emphasis. 
"This is the best reason to come back for me."

His breath hitched as he replied huskily, "Only
because it runs a close second to its mother."

The blare of the train whistle startled them
both.  "No," she whispered, her embrace almost
frantic.  "Don't go just yet."

Gabriel's chest ached with sorrow at the truth
he couldn't yet tell her.  She knew, could
*feel* that though the train ride was at an end,
the journey wasn't yet over.  He never was good
at hiding his feelings from her.  Only his love
had remained hidden for years, cloaked in the
idealistic give and take of true friendship. 
And now, it seemed it was all he could show,
though he felt like letting a wail of anguish
loose as he slowly pulled himself from her
grasping hands.

Head lowered, he quickly kissed the fretful
crease of her brow, then her damp cheek.  "Don't
cry," he murmured, his forehead meeting hers as
he silently transmitted a plea for control.
*His* as well as hers.  "I can't stand to see
you cry."

Sniffling, she pulled herself together.  "I'm
not crying," she said, her voice a wavering
thing that touched his lips.  "I'm smiling,
see?"  But her lips refused to cooperate, and
she bit down on her lower lip as she turned back
to the window, wiping at her face.  "Go on.  I
know you're anxious to meet with the Colonel."

And she knew as well as he did that it was best
he didn't exit the train with the others in her
party.  Though she believed it was because he
was still wanted by the company.  He didn't dare
tell her it was because it was very likely his
father had spies at the depot.

One last time, he moved closer, his hands
hovering above her shoulders with the need to
touch her.  But he resisted, knowing it would
make his leaving almost impossible should he
upset her again.

"I'll come back for you, Julia."

She didn't say a word, just stood straight as
she gazed at the snow-lined trees beyond the
window.  Without another word, he turned up the
collar on the coat Kurtzweil had produced for
him earlier in the afternoon, and quickly left
her room.

Thinking it best not to disturb the guard at the
end of the train, he walked through the cars
until he reached the junction of her car and
Matthew's.  The biting wind hit him in the face
and he leaned over, seeing the bustle of the
depot several hundred yards ahead.  The train
had slowed considerably and with a deep breath,
he jumped to the snowbank below, rolling to a
stop.

On his knees, he looked up just in time to see
Julia's face float by.  Smiling through her
tears, her hands came up.

<Nine point nine.>

Palm against the glass, her smile faded as she
disappeared from his sight.

Shrugging off his sudden emptiness, he stood and
began to walk.  Maybe a hundred yards of
trudging in knee-deep drifts, and he came upon
the depot, telling himself she'd be okay.  She
had to be; he wouldn't allow his disquiet to
take hold.  A clear head was his best ally at
the moment, and he shoved the vision of her
worried face into a corner of his brain, fully
settling into stealth mode as he crept up.

He watched the train pull in the station from a
shadowed outside corner of the building.  The
platform was built much like the one in Denver; 
the company had wasted no time rebuilding the
necessary facilities.  Many of the wooden
structures in the cities had been looted and
eventually torn down by the survivors, mostly
for firewood during the last harsh winter after
colonization.  But the stations between company
sites had sprung up almost immediately out of
the rubble last spring; even under the
snowdrifts he could smell fresh-cut pine.

And standing on that pine were maybe a dozen
men.  Milling about, some obviously station
workers, their hand signals bringing the train
to a slow stop.  Others walking about in rags,
their haunted, hollow cheeks speaking of near
starvation.  Still others, dressed warmly in
work gear, puffing on cigarettes as they laughed
with each other.  It was those men who grabbed
Gabriel's attention.  He'd bet his last dollar
one or two of them worked for his father.

As soon as the train came to a halt, he saw
Krycek and Jesse step down from the club car,
their eyes shifting about the platform quickly. 
Gabriel heard the muffled thud of a door
slamming, and noticed the huge truck at the far
end, flanked by two dark SUV's.  A man
approached Krycek, signaling to the vehicles. 
As he greeted Krycek, a stream of company guards
surrounded the train on both sides, their guns
poised and ready.

He couldn't hear what was being said, but he
breathed a sigh of relief when Krycek and Jesse
took the captain aboard with them.  It looked
like Spencer was not taking any chances.  He
knew the best place to wait until the exchange
was the train.  It was secure and a vehicle
virtually unstoppable by anything but a
derailment.  And Gabriel knew his father wanted
Julia badly enough not to storm the depot and
risk harming her baby.

A few hours more and they'd be free.  All he had
to do was find Frohike...

"Don't move."

Gabriel froze at the feel of the gun in his
back; he knew that voice, but it had been so
long he thought he was imagining it.

"Now, if you're who I think you are, you'll be
able to tell me something I'm itching to know."

A grin accompanied Gabriel's, "And what's that?"

"That red little mouth - tell me it's good for
something else besides arguing."

In an instant, Gabriel whirled, knocking the gun
away as his fist connected with what felt like
Mount Rushmore.  Wincing at his sore knuckles,
he eyed the man sprawled on his back in the
snow, his fury melting as he caught sight of the
lopsided smile cupped in nursing fingers.

A frosty chuckle accompanied the man's, "I knew
it was you, Mulder."

"You perverted son-of-a-bitch."  Gabriel held
out one hand to help the laughing man to his
feet.  "You're one man I never would have pegged
as having a dirty mind.  Hanging around Frohike
a bit too much, eh?"

His erstwhile attacker took the offered
assistance, reaching for his gun as he stood,
shaking the snow from his jacket.  "Please," he
drawled.  "All those years... don't tell me you
never wondered the same thing."

Falling into step beside his greeting committee
of one, Gabriel replied, "Guilty.  What
surprises me is that *you* were thinking the
same thing."

"What surprises me is that *you* never took the
time to find out... until recently, from what
I've been told."  Snorting, the hulking,
bundled-up man directed him to an alley across
the street.  "I always thought you were
brilliant, Mulder.  Now I realize just how
fucking stupid you really were."

Yeah, Gabriel thought.  I was stupid then and
I'm crazy now.  He flashed a smile, happy to
have this man by his side.  He could use all the
help he could get.

"Nice to see you too, Walter."



End Chapter Twenty-Five