Gabriel
Chapter Four


Disclaimer, etc. in Headers


The Silver Moon
Denver, Colorado
September 16, 2001
6:17 p.m.


"Quit bein' so fidgety," Jesse murmured across
the table, digging into his steak with relish. 
"Eat your steak.  She'll show up in a little
while.  Business is just startin' to pick up."

Gabriel's right hand shook as he pierced the
charred meat with the knife.  He supposed he
*should* try to eat some; this steak had cost
him a week's pay.  God only knew how much the
tricks went for - and he'd bet his bottom dollar
there wasn't an hourly rate.  This place charged
by the minute.  But he had to admit, it was far
above any other similar places he'd seen in his
travels.

It was like they'd stepped back in time to the
Old West.  A long teak bar, from which flowed
liquor pushed by several bartenders, took up the
far wall, the patrons who filtered in starting
to take up its many stools.  Beyond the double
doors to its right, the kitchen spit out steak
after steak.  There was no menu; what good would
it be, anyway?  The men who came in here didn't
want soup and salad - they wanted burnt beef,
sharp whiskey and a good lay.

Country music that had to be at least ten years
old blared from unseen speakers in the wall.  He
and Jesse sat at a small table in the corner of
the big room, well away from the growing crowd. 
Just to the left of the bar was another room,
this one smaller but no less ostentatious, with
tasseled red velvet curtains hanging from the
entryway.  Gambling was the featured pleasure in
that room; he wondered just how much money
streamed in and out of this town.  There was
more going on here than mining.  His mind raced
as he ate, noticing the men that moved in and
out were not just miners.  Some looked like
businessmen, dressed in silk suits, some looked
like territorial officers, their guns strapped
to their belts like Colt 45's.

If he wasn't there for another reason entirely,
Gabriel knew he'd probably enjoy himself in this
palace of sin.  Despite the fall of the
Administration, the men of this new country
still ruled.  He'd always been of an open mind
toward women and their abilities, especially one
woman in particular, whom he'd set up against
any man, any day.  But he couldn't deny that a
place like this made the testosterone surge in
his body - it was one big playpen, filled with
toys for rich men.

As he surveyed the room with a hooded gaze, his
eyes kept straying to the last room at the far
end, this one with a pair of saloon-style
swinging doors flanked by a pair of goons with
guns.  Every now and then, he could see a swirl
of silk beneath the doors in the pink-tinged
smoky air; if he tried hard enough, he could
almost smell the perfume that mingled with the
cigar smoke and the dark yeast of spilled beer.

Eliza was in there, he knew it.  And if she
wasn't, she soon would be, Jesse having
explained to him that the upstairs rooms were
accessed from a staircase in that room.  There
were only a handful, and he'd visited them all
with the exception of one at the end of the
hall.  Miss Eliza's room, Jesse was told in a
hushed whisper by one of the girls last week. 
She oversaw most transactions downstairs, at
times delegating the negotiations to her right-
hand man.  But at sunrise she retired to her
room with the barked command to the girls to
call it a day; they didn't come out again until
early evening.  She didn't want them overworked;
made the men hungrier, the girl had told Jesse. 
And hungry men paid more for the feel of a
woman.

Gabriel shifted in his chair with restlessness,
shoving the plate away.  He'd waited almost
twenty-four hours for this opportunity, milling
about the camp on his day off without even
checking the newsgroup, too excited to sit
still.  Jesse had slept most of the day and had
warned him to do the same - the night was going
to be a long one, even though they had to work
tomorrow.  One didn't waste a penny at the
Silver Moon, staying until dawn.  Or until your
money ran out, whichever came first.  The big
man had puffed up with pride, bragging that the
girls were lingering with him on the sly, giving
him twice as much time as other paying
customers.  Miss Eliza hadn't caught on yet, too
busy keeping an eye on all aspects of her
business to notice.

"You wait a bit, get some, then try your luck at
the tables," he'd winked.  "You win, you go back
for more."  And so far, Jesse was lucky in cards
as well as lust, it seemed.

Gabriel pasted a smirk on his face, though he
didn't feel like joining in on Jesse's
playfulness, keeping his eyes on the room across
the way.  It was only when Jesse changed the
subject that he faced him again.  "What?"  He
wasn't sure he'd heard right, what with Jesse's
mouth full of food.

"Overheard the foreman talking to some o'the men
today.  Said we're shippin' out tomorrow."

No, they couldn't leave.  He was so close, he
could feel it.  "Why?  We haven't even been here
for two weeks yet."

Jesse shrugged.  "Story is they've found a big
one - out in Idaho.  The company's sending half
their crews out there.  They wanna get it up
fast."

A ship, Gabriel reasoned.  Had to be; the mother
lode, as far as the company was concerned.  But
he could care less, though he asked, "Are you
sure we're leaving tomorrow?"

"Yep.  Probably not until we pack up the
equipment - maybe by noon.  You goin' with us?" 
The last was said with some worry.

Gabriel clenched his jaw, unable to lie to Jesse
- the man would see through him, anyway.  "I
don't know."

Jesse leaned closer and hissed, "Don't you be
gettin' any ideas, Gabe.  If you ain't back by
the time we leave, they'll send the territorial
police after you."

A flash of black hair above the swinging doors
caught Gabriel's attention and he stood,
ignoring Jesse's warning.  "Time to go in," he
muttered.

Jesse grabbed his arm.  "You listen to what I'm
sayin', man.  This ain't worth it." 

Gabriel looked down at him and said with
conviction, "It is to me."

Sighing, Jesse released him and reached for
Gabriel's plate.  "Then try to at least not get
into any trouble, okay?  They got guns all over
this place, most of 'em unfriendly."

Gabriel nodded, pulling the edges of his coat
closer together in an effort to hide his knife. 
Though most of the men in here carried some form
of protection, it was best not to flaunt it. 
The territorial police understood the need for a
knife, mostly looking the other way, but not if
one flashed it around like a red flag to a bull.

Elbowing his way through the crowd, he kept his
eyes on the doors ahead and his hands close to
his coat.  Everything he'd gathered over the
months was hidden in the inner pockets - money,
packs of jerky, matches and a small flask of
water.  He didn't expect to go back to camp
tonight, if all went well.  The most important
thing he owned was folded in his shirt pocket,
laying next to his heart.  Her picture...
waiting to be replaced by the real deal.

Like Jesse had ordered, he'd cleaned up a bit,
trimming his beard to where it laid neatly on
his cheeks.  The dirt was gone from his hands
and face, scrubbed away after an hour's standing
under the shower this afternoon.  His hair was
pulled back with the ribbon; it smelled of plain
Ivory soap, the only kind supplied by the
company.  He'd even brushed his teeth, something
he'd fallen out of the habit of - he really
should take better care of his teeth, the gums
had bled a little at the friction of the
toothbrush.

But things like personal hygiene weren't
important in this wild, unforgiving land. 
Especially when there was no one to appreciate
the fresh breath of a kiss or the touch of a
clean hand.  Hopefully, that was all about to
change.

The two burly men at the swinging doors hardly
gave him a glance as he pushed his way in.


Undisclosed location
The Smoky Mountains
April 10, 2001
7:30 p.m.


The guys looked up from their dinner as he
approached.  "Mulder, you okay?" Byers asked,
standing to offer a hand.

Mulder ignored it with a crease of his brow,
stopping just short of the table's edge.  "I - I
need to apologize," he began, working for the
words through a throat sore with residual grief.

All three stood, murmuring individual brush-offs
of his words with embarrassment.

He stood firm, gripping the back of a chair for
strength.  "No."  Letting his eyes drift over
them, he sought to make amends, the sorrowful
hours spent in his room that afternoon leading
to an inevitable conclusion.  "You guys saved my
life - once again.  And I've been an ass."

"Dude, it's okay, we understand."  Langly fell
back, clearing his throat and nudging up his
glasses before crossing his arms.  "We miss her,
too," he finished softly, red color creeping up
his cheeks.

"Shut up, doofus," Frohike hissed, then walked
around the table to pull out a chair.  "Sit
down, Mulder - before you fall down."

Mulder felt as though his world had tilted on
its axis, and it wasn't just from the bullet
wound.  The afternoon's misery had drained him,
left him almost unable to function.  It was by
sheer will alone that he'd made the trek to the
kitchen, feeling the need to make things right
with his friends.  He slumped shivering into the
chair, his bare chest and feet icy with cold.

"Get a blanket," Frohike ordered above his head. 

In moments, he felt warmth envelop him; relief
followed close behind, lapping at his brain. 
Though he nearly lost his bearings when a plate
of hot stew was set before him.  "Guys, I can't
eat."

"Eat."  Mulder almost laughed at the way Frohike
had grown accustomed to throwing his weight
around.  He picked up his head and grinned,
intending to deny he was hungry, but Frohike
continued, "You hungry for more than food?"

His grin faded and he swallowed hard, tears
threatening to spew forth again.  Lowering his
eyes, he nodded.

"Then food comes first, Mulder.  You can't find
what you're looking for if you don't have the
strength to take the first step."

The first step... Mulder's left hand trembled as
he picked up the fork.  He almost gagged on the
carrot, but he kept it down.  Then another bite,
and another... all the while wondering how many
steps he'd have to take to find her.


The Silver Moon
Denver, Colorado
September 16, 2001
6:57 p.m.


One step, then two into the dim room, and he
paused, putting his hands into his coat pockets
with a deep breath.  Relax, he told himself,
though his palms were sweaty as his fingers
curled into them.

Light from several silk-covered lamps gave the
room an eerie glow.  It wasn't as crowded in
this room, not like it was in the bar.  Several
men sat on ornate tapestry couches spread about
the room, some puffing on cigars, some nursing
glasses of liquor.  Still others circled the
scantily-clad women like vultures, looking the
merchandise up and down with greedy, hot eyes.

Gabriel dismissed the blond who sidled up to him
with a purse of his lips, quickly scanning the
women for a sign of red hair, though he didn't
really expect to find the right shade.  The
assortment was varied, and he caught his breath
at a glimpse of a small redhead.  Shrugging off
the blond's clingy hands, he walked the few feet
to her side with shaky legs.  Her shoulders were
bare under the fall of hair, and she wore a
flimsy teddy that revealed more than it
concealed.  With a whispered, "Scully?" he
placed a hand on her arm.

She turned and gave him a smile.  "Hi, handsome. 
See anything you like?"

It wasn't her.  His face fell and he backed
away, stopping short at the voice that came from
the landing of the stairwell.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the Silver Moon."

Strong, arrogant, nasally - he'd know that cat
scratch anywhere.  Turning, he wondered how he'd
missed her when he'd come in; despite her role
as madam, she outshone the whores in makeup and
clothes, her sequined gown almost blinding in
the dim light.  Clenching his jaw, he let
himself dissolve into the corner shadows.  It
wasn't time yet.  Besides, it was goon central
in there, the huge men standing ready to step in
if the customers' negotiations became heated. 
It was okay to look and touch a bit, but one had
to wait his turn.  Highest bidders got first
crack at the ladies, according to Jesse.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" Eliza
continued, gesturing the whores to stand before
her.  "Your choice, gentlemen... we start at
five hundred dollars."

Gabriel gulped.  Five hundred dollars?  He was
lucky if he had a hundred in his pocket.  Not
that he was looking to get laid, but he *was*
looking to get upstairs and into Eliza's office. 
Better yet, into Eliza's face.

Five minutes passed, then ten, the bidding
topping out at two thousand dollars.  A balding,
slim man in a black suit stepped forward to
claim his prize - a girl of no more than twenty,
with black, curly hair that hung to her waist
and liquid brown eyes that beckoned him
upstairs.  Every girl followed in succession,
most going for at least a thousand dollars.

"Guess I shoulda told you it was kinda
expensive."

The murmur in his ear made him jump.  Gabriel
gave Jesse a disbelieving glare and hissed, "Two
thousand dollars?  Are they lined with gold?"

Jesse chuckled, leaning against the wall as the
crowd thinned.  "They say Miss Eliza got a
healer tucked away up there somewhere."

"A healer?"  Gabriel's chest tightened with the
realization that Jesse was most likely speaking
of a hybrid, a Jeremiah-like shapeshifter.

"You know, some kind of medicine man - can heal
with just a touch.  Back in Mississippi, they
used to call'em healers."

It wasn't common knowledge that some hybrids
could heal with just a touch; Gabriel had only
known one in his life, and chances were, he was
dead.  Of course, there were bound to be other
shapeshifters roaming the country.  Offering
their services to people like Eliza in exchange
for protection.

"Makes them girls tight as virgins during the
day.  The first men gotta pay more if that's
what they're lookin' for.  Prices go way down as
the night wears on."  A short smile accompanied
the folding of his arms across his massive
chest.  "Me?  Never did care for splittin' a
woman in two.  Wait a few hours and I can slide
in like a hot knife into butter."

Swallowing hard, Gabriel closed his eyes and
said a quick prayer of thanks to whatever deity
was listening it these days... he didn't know
what he would have done if she'd been in that
group of enslaved women.  But what if she was? 
What if she just wasn't here right now?  Despite
the warning bells going off in his head, he had
to know.  Reaching into his pocket, he lifted
fearful eyes to Jesse.  "Have you - have you
ever seen her here?"

Jesse took the photograph from him and whistled. 
"Man, she's somethin'."

Gabriel ignored the open admiration and bit out,
"Have you?"

Jesse folded the picture and passed it back to
him, his grin fading to a serious stare.  "Nah,
man.  I'd remember someone like her."

Sagging, Gabriel's fingers shook as he put the
picture back into his pocket and looked away.

"She your woman, Gabe?" came the soft question. 
"Is that who you lookin' for?"

Why lie anymore?  He was so tired and so close,
he could feel it in the air of this booming
city.  Something told him Jesse could be
trusted, though he didn't want to give away any
information that could possibly get him into
trouble.

"Yeah," he murmured, feeling Jesse's eyes scan
his profile.  "That's who I'm looking for."

A slow sigh drifted from Jesse.  "Aw, man... you
oughta know better than that.  It's one in a
million you'll find her."

"She's alive.  I know she is."  He turned to
Jesse, feeling the emotions he's kept in check
all these months shine from his eyes.  "Don't
try to stop me, Jesse.  If things get bad...
just pretend you don't know me, okay?"  Lowering
his eyes, he figured Jesse wouldn't want to know
him anyway, if he knew what Gabriel had done in
his other life - if he knew that Gabriel most
likely had sent his family to his death on the
ships.

Gabriel flinched at the touch of Jesse's hand on
his shoulder.  "Like I said, just don't give me
a reason *not* to know you, okay?"


Undisclosed location
The Smoky Mountains
April 15, 2001
10:45 a.m.


"So... what do we know?"  Mulder hovered in the
control room of the new bunker, pacing as the
guys worked their magic.

"We know she can speak, when she couldn't
before," Byers said, turning from his computer
terminal to face Mulder.  "And we know she
didn't recognize you, nor stop when you asked
her to.  And she disappeared onto what sounded
like a helicopter from where we were in the
bunker."

Frohike gave Byers a pinched look, silently
admonishing him for turning away from his work. 
With a cough, Byers turned back around to his
terminal.  Mulder was still amazed at the way
Frohike had essentially become the leader of
their band; more amazing was the way the other
two deferred to him.  They didn't grovel, just
looked to him for guidance.  He couldn't really
blame them - lots of lost souls these days
didn't have the luxury of someone willing to
look after them.

"We know she shot you," Frohike pointed out,
then quickly added, "though we all agree she
can't have been in her right mind."  The boys
had been swayed to Mulder's insistence that she
didn't shoot him deliberately; it was an act of
a mind being told to flee at all costs.

"And we all agree it was most probably the chip
Krycek gave her that was directing her outside,
telling her to go somewhere - making her believe
she was Julia."  Mulder dared them with his eyes
to disagree; though they believed she hadn't
shot him deliberately, there had been some talk
of her having had a mental breakdown of sorts,
her mind bringing Julia back to replace Scully. 
It was a possibility Mulder had dismissed
instantly.  Why would she suddenly succumb to
that kind of psychosis?  The stress of the past
year hadn't been enough to force it upon her -
it was ridiculous to think that it would happen
when she was finally safe and happy.  No - it
was the chip.

"Even if you could find her, Mulder," Frohike
continued, "you can't take the risk of pulling
that chip out.  It didn't take long for her
cancer to come back when she took out the
original."

Mulder pierced the little man with his gaze. 
"It wouldn't come back that fast - it was at
least a year before she developed the tumor the
first time."

All three glanced at him, then Langly and Byers
turned back to their work, leaving it to Frohike
to say, "We saw it, Mulder.  On tape.  We just
didn't tell her anything.  Saw her take out the
chip, saw the nosebleeds begin almost right away
- saw Krycek give her the new chip and demand
that she use it or she wouldn't be the one to go
after you."  He paused, standing to add, "If you
take it out, you'll be signing her death
warrant."

It wasn't fair.  Mulder turned, hiding his
anguish from his friends, rubbing at the back of
his neck with his good hand.  "But if it's
controlling her, she wouldn't want it in her." 
That he knew for certain, just as he knew he had
no chance of getting her back if she was being
brainwashed.  She'd kill him before she'd let
him touch her.

"Would you rather watch her die?"

Frohike's whisper stabbed at his back.  He knew
the answer to that question.  With her death,
his world would end.  But he didn't know if he
could stand to know she was alive and imprisoned
- her mind trapped in Julia, never to be
released again.

There were considerations, yes.  But none of
this stopped him from going after her.  He'd
decide when he found her - something he swore to
himself he was going to do.


The Silver Moon
Denver, Colorado
September 17, 2001
3:25 a.m.


"Now," Jesse said, nodding.

Gabriel raised his hand, keeping his face in the
shadows as he bid on the girl.  A hundred
dollars, then one-fifty, then two; he felt beads
of sweat break out on his forehead.

"Keep goin'," Jesse whispered.  "I got five
hundred in my pocket.  We going' in together."

Gabriel flashed him a surprised look, keeping
one eye on the bidding.

Jesse smiled and drawled, "I ain't got a thing
for you, Gabe, so get that scared rabbit look
off your face."  He crossed his arms, making
himself a menacing sight as he added softly,
"I'll keep her busy while you look around."

Luckily, the man they were bidding against
caught the eye of another girl who'd sashayed
down the stairs during this round.  She smiled
at Gabriel, too, but he ignored her, tired of
waiting for the opportunity.  The girl they had
in mind slumped with fatigue; a coaxing word or two
and she'd fall right in with the suggestion to 
just lie back and enjoy it.

Eliza pinched the girl, making her stand
straighter.  "We have two hundred fifty dollars. 
Going once... twice..."  She nodded at Gabriel. 
"Yours, sir.  Or should I say *sirs*?"  Jesse
smiled and nodded, and Eliza finished, "You have
half an hour."  As he stepped forward, her eyes
narrowed, but she said nothing, her attention
grabbed by the other girl who was ready for
another customer.

Gabriel kept well away from Eliza, slipping past
her when the girl beckoned him with a wave and a
yawn.  As he crept up the stairs behind her, he
heard Eliza begin again.

"Now here's a lively one, gents... shall we
start at two hundred?"

"Get up there, man.  Quit wastin' time."  That
was Jesse's voice behind him.  Gabriel grinned,
amazed at the man's attachment to his cause, at
the risk he was taking by following him
upstairs.  Then again, maybe Jesse just wanted
to enjoy a bit of female company - he'd become
mighty impatient himself at the long wait.

The girl opened the first door on the right, and
Gabriel gave the door at the end of the hall a
good stare before walking in behind her.  A
double bed, night stand equipped with wash basin
and all types of sexual aids, a chair and a
single lamp which burned with muted light - the
only furnishings in an otherwise empty room. 
Jesse made himself at home, flopping onto the
bed with a groan and a smile.

"What'll it be, gents?" he heard behind him.  He
turned and flushed at the sight of her naked,
skinny body.  Geez, she was fast.  "Guess I can
figure it out, huh?" she continued, hanging her
robe on one of the hooks on the wall.  "Just
don't suffocate me, okay?  And ya gotta wear the
rubber - that's the rules."

"Get up here," Jesse ordered.  She complied,
dragging her feet.

"Like this?"  She laid flat on the mussed
sheets, still as a department-store mannequin. 
And about as appealing, Gabriel thought.

In moments, Jesse had reached for a scarf on the
night stand, giving Gabriel a sly look.  The
girl just watched with bored eyes, as if it
wasn't anything to be alarmed about.  "He's
gonna watch or what?" she asked Jesse.  At their
silence, she rolled her eyes.  "Fine by me. 
Less work."  She looked like she'd gladly let
him silently watch her while he satisfied
himself.  Money was money, and it didn't matter
if he never said a word to her or laid a finger
on her.

"We only have a half hour, you know," she
sighed, flashing Jesse a thoroughly
disinterested look before her eyes were hidden
by the scarf.

"You just lie back and relax, baby," Jesse
murmured, then gave Gabriel a sharp nod toward
the door.

"Sure thing, honey," she purred.  "Whatever
floats your boat."

Her awful bleached hair, her sallow looks, her
infuriating voice - he shook his head with
disgust as he watched Jesse move in.  Not
wanting to waste another moment, he headed for
the door, letting Jesse do his stuff.

It was time to get down to business.  After a
quick scan of the hall, he made for Eliza's
office, silently squeezing the door shut behind
him.


End Chapter Four