Gabriel
Chapter Three

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Idlewild Mining Camp
Just west of Denver, Colorado
September 15, 2001
6:30 p.m.


Were they ever going to sound the horn?  Gabriel
was exhausted, not having had anything to eat
since dinner the night before.  His whole body
seemed to quiver as his muscles screamed from
lack of nourishment.  The sun was setting and it
was getting cooler; he unknotted his shirt from
around his waist and slipped it on, wrinkling
his nose at his stench.  He knew he was going to
linger at the dinner table too long to be able
to avail himself of the meager hot water in the
showers - it was going to be a quick, cold
dousing tonight.  But food, something that
should be a priority, was not uppermost on his
to-do list this evening.

Information from Jesse was number one today. 
Everything else could wait.

At the blare of the horn, he dropped his pick
and practically ran to the mess tent.


Undisclosed location
The Smoky Mountains
April 10, 2001
12:20 p.m.


The screen sprang to life, a sea of grainy black
and white fuzz.  But not for long, as it quickly
changed into a dark picture.  There wasn't much
light to aid the camera's functioning, but
Mulder could see what had triggered it.

Squirming.  On the left side of the makeshift
bed, under the covers.  Scully.

Several soft sighs of distress floated to his
ears; with a gasp, he knew he'd been right - she
was having a nightmare.  He slept on beside her,
oblivious to her fright.  He saw her arms flail
under the covers and his throat got tight.  He
should have woken up then.  But he'd gotten soft
since their escape, letting the simple joy of
freedom cloud his mind to possible danger.

He kept his eyes glued to the screen, ignoring
Frohike's study of his face.  They were wrong,
and the tape would prove it.  He expected the
commandos to break down the door at any moment
and drag her away; he didn't know if he could
bear to see it, but he kept watching anyway.

Suddenly, she rolled from the bed, her skin
ghostly on the tape.  For a moment she stood,
trembling as she scanned the floor.  Then,
dropping to all fours, she crawled frantically
on the concrete floor, soft, mewling sounds of
anxiety coming from her throat.  First she
donned her jeans, then her boots, then *his*
sweatshirt.  He could tell it was his by the way
it hung to mid-thigh.  God, he hoped she still
had it; it would keep her warm.

"Scully?"

At the sound of his own voice, Mulder held his
breath.  It was about time you woke up, you
fool, he told himself silently.  As if he could
change the outcome by wishing it different.

But she didn't stop moving, not even when he
turned on the lamp.  Again, he called out,
"Scully!"

Her eyes were wide and wild; yes, she was lost
in a nightmare, he could tell.

A sleep-slowed hand closed around her ankle;
watching her fall, he grimaced and looked away,
sure he must have hurt her.

"Keep watching," Frohike ordered.

Powerless to resist, Mulder raised his eyes once
again, biting his lip to keep from yelling out
her name in time with his video twin.  It came
out anyway through thin lips, his echoed, "Damn
it, stop!"  From the corner of his eye, he saw
Frohike's face become firm, his eyes skittering
away to give a confirming blink at his friends.

But Mulder didn't want to give up just yet. 
Leaning in closer, his hands fisted as he
watched Scully struggle against his hold.  Don't
let go, he pleaded with himself.  Stop her
before she leaves.

In a flash, she'd turned, gun in hand.

No.  It wasn't true.  It couldn't be.

"Whoa," he heard himself say, saw the blankets
fall away from his naked form as he stood, hands
up.  "You're dreaming, Scully.  Drop the gun."

Mulder waited for the door to burst open.  For
the heavens to crash in... for the men he knew
had tried to steal her rush in and shoot him.

But it didn't happen.  As if in slow motion, he
saw her free hand reach for the door knob.  With
a last gasp, he saw himself lunge for her.  With
a pained heart, he saw her shoot him.  Blood
spurted immediately and he fell back, disbelief
echoing in his voice.
     
"Scully."

Her eyes were clear and unblinking as she
dropped the gun to her side.

"My name is Julia."

It was her voice, sounding like sandpaper, but
still it was hers.  Limp fingers let the gun
clatter to the floor and she walked away.

"Scully!"


Idlewild Mining Camp
Just west of Denver, Colorado
September 15, 2001
6:35 p.m.


"Jesse!" he hissed, coming up behind the man
seated at the rickety folding table.

Startled, Jesse flashed a pair of pissy eyes at
him, nearly choking on his mouthful of food.  He
shrugged off Gabriel's hand and took a swallow
of water.  "Go get you somethin' to eat, man,
before they let us back in line for seconds."

Though Gabriel's stomach rumbled with hunger, he
was too excited to wait.  "Jesse, I gotta talk
to you."

Jesse didn't pick his head up as he kept
shoveling the stew into his face.  "I ain't
talkin' to you until I'm full.  Fuck off."

Gabriel knew Jesse was bound to be still angry
at this morning's run-in with the foreman.  With
a purse of his lips, he decided to relent for a
few minutes, giving in to Jesse's temperament. 
A full belly was more cooperative than an angry,
empty one.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned, turning to
search out the end of the mess line.

"Go get your food.  I ain't goin' nowhere."

As Gabriel walked away, he heard a muffled,
"Fool."

Yes, he was a fool.  Ten times over.  But it was
too late to change now.


Undisclosed location
The Smoky Mountains
April 10, 2001
12:25 p.m.


Mulder pressed pause, freezing the frame of his
bare ass halfway out the door.

"How do you know this is legit?"  He knew what
Frohike had shown him was damning for her, but
there was always a slim hope the tape had been
tampered with.  It wouldn't be the first time
he'd seen altered videotape.

Frohike grinned, a grim, humorless thing.  "You
know, she asked us the same thing once... when
we saw you shoot that girl at the airport.  The
only confirmation was that little piece of gold
you still have around your neck."

Lowering his eyes, Mulder's left hand strayed to
the cross and he closed his fingers around it. 
"Still doesn't mean this hasn't been tampered
with," he muttered, defiant to the end.

"Every fifteen minutes, the feed was downloaded
to the central network computer, then backed up
to the alternate site - right here."  Frohike
glanced at his buddies across the room before
turning back to Mulder.  "About half an hour
after we abandoned the bunker in West Virginia,
the feed abruptly ended.  We figure it's all
been destroyed by now."

"They still could have -"

"What?  Taken the time to mess with this tape? 
For God's sake, Mulder, why?"  Impatience edged
Frohike's voice and he ran a gloved hand across
his brow, stepping closer to murmur, "You don't
believe me?  Back up the tape."

Mulder's eyes shot up as fury consumed him. 
"You son-of-a-bitch.  Got your jollies, did
you?" he snarled, curling up from the cot.

As the other two men slipped from the room,
Frohike shoved against the uninjured side of his
chest, red-faced with his own anger.  "The
second we saw what it was, we indexed ahead to
the next click on," he pointed out.  "I might be
a pervert, but even I know when to stop, Mulder. 
I told you, I'd never do that to you.  Or to
her."  He stood and straightened his vest,
giving Mulder a dignified, cold glare.  "Watch
it.  If you think they somehow stole into your
room with a look-a-like, then now's the time to
found out, wouldn't you say?"

Mulder flinched at the slam of the door behind
Frohike.  How did he do that, anyway?  Once,
Mulder believed that the only one who could read
the way his mind worked was Scully.  Now it
seemed he was as transparent as a pane of glass.

There had to be an explanation, and this was the
only one that made sense.  Somehow, they'd
gotten in, replaced Scully with someone who
looked like her - an assassin who wouldn't
hesitate to shoot him.  Maybe the woman he'd
made love with just hours before the ambush
wasn't even her.  It was possible, he told
himself.

The remote laid on the cot beside him.  With his
left hand, he picked it up and pressed rewind,
taking a deep breath for courage.


Idlewild Mining Camp
Just west of Denver, Colorado
September 15, 2001
6:45 p.m.


By the time Gabriel made it back to the table,
Jesse was finishing up, standing to leave. 
Dropping the metal tray with a furious slam,
Gabriel leaned over the table.  "Where the hell
are you going?  You said you'd stay."

"Chill out, man," Jesse said with a small smile. 
"I'm goin' to get some more.  I'll be right
back."  He picked up his own empty tray and gave
Gabriel a once-over, crinkling his nose.  "You
better look like takin' a shower tonight.  I
ain't sleepin' in the same tent as you with you
smellin' like that."

Gabriel sighed, content for now that the other
man had softened a bit toward him enough to
enter into small talk.  He'd be back.  With
dirty hands, Gabriel picked up his bread and
stuffed it into his mouth.  "Like you smell like
roses," he muttered around the yeasty dough. 
That's it, he thought.  Just cool it.  Can't
afford to arouse too much suspicion.

"At least I still got somethin' on me you ain't
got," Jesse laughed.  "Somethin' you ain't had
in years, probably.  The smell of a woman."

As Jesse walked away, Gabriel bit back his
reply.  The scent of a woman was something he'd
never forget, something he enjoyed not so long
ago, in spite of Jesse's poking.  And not just
any woman, either.

This one had been special - light like spring
grass and dark like the heady burn of fine
brandy just before it touched your tongue. 
Scented in a hundred different places, with an
intoxicating warmth that would fill his head and
make him forget who he was in her arms.

Yes, he remembered.  Even now, with the spicy
steam wafting from his tray that lifted toward
his face, he isolated *her* - and shoved all
else from his mind.


Undisclosed location
The Smoky Mountains
April 10, 2001
12:30 p.m.


At the first sight of her, his heart seized in
his chest.  Though forever preserved in the gray
tones of the video, his mind splashed color on
the screen to surround her in vivid life.  The
red-gold of her hair, the pale white of her
skin, the sky-blue of her eyes that were
remarkably warm against the dingy beige of the
pillowcase.

As the two figures on the screen moved together
as one, his body was drawn closer to the image,
as if pulled by an unseen magnet.  It should
have disgusted him, this intrusion into their
love.  Maybe it should even have aroused him,
like in years past, when he sought the solace of
porn in his solitary apartment.  It did neither. 
All it did was create an ache deep within; the
pain of loss blossoming with every frame that
slipped by.

If he'd only known it was to be the last time...
if he'd known to touch her lips with his in a
few more kisses, to hold himself within her for
a few seconds more, to keep his arms around her
in a chain that would have bound her to him...
if he'd only known.

Look at her, you fool, he silently admonished
his other self.  Tell her you love her, tell her
not to leave you.  Stop fucking her and get some
God damned rope to tie her wrist to yours.

But no - his phantom self thrust into her again
and again, smiling at the way her body wrapped
around him, confident that she could not be
free.

"Come on sweetheart.  Come for me, Scully," the
bastard said, commanding her to give it all to
him.  He grunted above her like a pig, and
Mulder could no longer stand to watch the
rutting, instead fastening his gaze on her
beautiful face.

He brought a finger to the screen, inching
closer until, with a slam of his knees on the
concrete, he knelt before the monitor.  She was
amazing to behold, her mouth lax, her eyes
slitted, yet still focused on the man moving
above her, her hands stealing down his back to
urge him on.

As if hit with a jolt of electricity, she
suddenly stiffened and her face dissolved into a
portrait of pleasure, her smile seeming to
shimmer in the dim light of the lamp.  Mulder
touched it, feeling the warmth tingle through
his fingertips as he gasped for breath.

"No," he whispered to her in a final plea, sure
she could hear him beg her not to let it end. 
His other self pressed her into the pallet and
groaned for them both, and Mulder knew then his
hopes were dashed to bits.

It was her.  There was no overwhelming physical
evidence to believe it was, but he did so with
all his mind and soul.  No one had ever looked
at him the way she did; even before she'd
revealed herself to him in the tower, she'd
graced him with attentive, sympathetic,
*desirous* looks.  As she did on the tape,
loving him with small kisses of satisfaction to
his face.  Letting him roll away into blissful
ignorance of what was to come; her love for him
plain to see on her face, damp with tears of
joy.

"No!" he whispered again with vehemence as the
man let his arms fall from her.  Fool - he was a
fool for not holding on.

But she *did*, curling into his side with a
touch of her lips to his chest.

"Promise me you'll do that again."

Idiot, Mulder screamed inwardly.  God damn it,
stop being so fucking complacent!

She nodded into his shoulder and let him doze.

Mulder's face was hot and his lungs gulped for
air as she lifted, the curve of her back
blocking the sight of his stupid face.  But he
could see her fingers curl into his hair and he
remembered it, the way they slid over his scalp. 
And he tossed it off, saying, "I need a haircut,
don't I?" though now he would give anything to
feel her hand.  Anything.

As if she felt him watching, her chin tilted
just a bit and her lips gave him a soundless,
<No.  I like it.>

The banter was lost to the ringing in his ears
and the thumping of his heart.  Silent,
wrenching sobs burst from him as she bestowed
her favor, the yellow ribbon sliding from her
fingers to his.  It twined about his knuckles
like a satin talisman and he remembered how it
remained all through their journey here, though
it was now dotted with blood.

The light went out but he could still see her as
she settled next to him, her fingers still
rubbing the strands of his hair in a silent
touch, as if unwilling to lose contact.

"Okay, maybe not for a couple of weeks." His
voice drifted out of the darkness.  "Then it's
*got* to go."

A glimpse of pearly white teeth made his hand
slide down to hit the pause button.  Then it was
back up, caressing the cool screen where she
laid in frozen happiness.  Salty tears touched
his lips and his shoulder began to throb as he
dropped his chin.

"Scully," he whispered brokenly.  "Why?"



Idlewild Mining Camp
Just west of Denver, Colorado
September 15, 2001
6:57 p.m.


"You gonna eat that?"

Gabriel was amazed at the amount of food Jesse
was able to eat.  With a short smile, he pushed
his tray of half-eaten food in Jesse's
direction.  "Be my guest."  Truth was, he was
getting very impatient.  Jesse had said he was
going to talk to him at the dinner table, but so
far, no go.  With a full belly, the man should
be amenable by now, Gabriel figured.  If not,
then he was due for a bad case of heartburn,
because Gabriel wasn't waiting a moment longer
to question him - whether or not it upset his
meal.

But how to approach the subject without making
Jesse suspicious, as Gabriel was sure he'd
almost done in the pit today.  A bit of interest
was called for, along with a bit of diversion. 
"You know of a good place in town to get
something better to eat than this?"

Jesse didn't look up as he shoveled Gabriel's
dinner into his mouth.  "Sure.  If you got the
money."  He reached for his water.  "Like I
said, the Silver Moon got it all, man.  Women,
drink, food.  All for a price."

"The Silver Moon, eh?"

Jesse let out a belch and wiped his mouth with
the back of his hand before lifting serious,
dark eyes to Gabriel.  "You ain't foolin' me,
you know."

Gabriel felt the blood drain from his face under
the scraggly beard; he *knew* he'd been too
pushy today.  He forced out a chuckle and
fidgeted with his fork, rapping out a drumbeat
on the wooden table.  "What do you mean?"

"You didn't want a God damned thing to do with
the Silver Moon until I told you about Miss
Eliza.  How do you know her, anyway?"

He schooled his features, the lie coming easily.
"I don't.  I just recognized the name, that's
all."  Think fast, he told himself.  A lie is
best told between two truths - he could hear the
voice from long ago still echo in his ears. 
"You say she's the mistress of the Silver Moon?"

"No, I didn't say that," Jesse murmured, his
eyes narrowing.  "You just assumed she was...
but yeah.  And don't be tellin' me you hadn't
heard that name before today, especially when
you asked me what she looked like.  You know
her, Gabe.  Admit it."

He forced himself to slump in his chair,
affecting a lazy pose.  "Yeah, I know her,
though it's not *her* I really want to know, if
you know what I mean?"  He shrugged and added,
"Back in St. Louis, before I signed on with the
company, I knew her.  She was just getting her
girls together back then and taking them west. 
One of them was pretty special to me - I've been
looking for her ever since."

Jesse perked up at the pseudo-admission, leaning
over the table.  "What's her name?  Maybe she's
still with Miss Eliza?"

Gabriel mirrored Jesse's pose, looking from side
to side before whispering, "Does she have a girl
named Karen with her?"

"Karen?"  Jesse paused, wrinkling his cheek with
a grimace.  "Nah, don't think so."  After a
moment, his eyes widened slightly.  "You think
Miss Eliza changed Karen's name?"

Gabriel pretended to give it some thought. 
"Mmm... maybe.  All I know is - I've never found
anyone who could satisfy me like Karen, you know
what I mean?"

"I bet it's Jenny," Jesse stated.  "Pretty
little thing - blond hair, blue eyes, shaped
like a Barbie doll - that her?"

"Yes!"  Gabriel nudged Jesse's arm.  "You gotta
take me there with you tomorrow night, okay?"

Jesse laughed and pushed away from the table. 
As he leaned over, he shoved Gabriel's tray back
to him, whispering, "Jenny got brown hair and
green eyes, man."

Gabriel swallowed and looked at his empty tray
as he felt the flush of capture stain his
cheeks.  "I'll go without you."

"And step right into some shit, I bet."

He raised burning eyes to Jesse and bit out, "I
don't need your help.  This is between me and
her."

"Hey - you started this, remember?"

Pushing away from the table, he picked up his
tray.  "And I'm gonna finish it - just forget I
even asked about her, okay?"

Jesse's huge hand curled around his arm.  "I
ain't gonna ask no more questions.  I figure you
got business with her and it ain't my concern. 
As long as you don't get us into trouble, I'll
watch your back.  If I don't, who will?"  He
smiled and released Gabriel to pick up his own
tray, turning to leave.

Gabriel watched with open-mouthed fascination,
then quickly clamped it shut as Jesse whirled to
make a final statement.  "But we ain't goin' if
you don't clean yourself up.  And if you don't
wanna get rid of that shit on your face, at
least take the scissors to it, okay?  You enough
to make any woman scream and run away, and just
being with the Love Man won't be enough to get
you in, you get my drift?"  Laughing, he threw
his tray into the pile at the tent exit and
walked away, rubbing his stomach.

Gabriel couldn't help but laugh as well, though
with more relief than humor.  One more day.  One
more day until he finally had something -
rather, someone - to start him on his way.

Eliza had made it out alive.  And if he knew her
like he thought he did, she still had
connections.  The way she made her living these
days was proof positive; someone had to have set
her up, if the establishment was as high-class
as Jesse claimed.  A cat always fell on its
feet.

Besides, there was the little matter of a
gunshot wound to one very special, very
*womanly-scented* back....


End Chapter Three