George Hale (7/17)
by invisiblefriends

Feedback: bettyteddyandray@gmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After IWTB, life goes on.


Chapter 7

Mulder's world changes at twelve-thirty two in the afternoon.
He rips another page out of the printer, another load of crap he
couldn't put into a decent sentence, and crumbles it with
disgust. With a certain kind of fury, tosses it at the doorway
and watches it bounce from the ceiling to the floor. It is a
terrible throw and it doesn't make it past the office doorway.

Then, he hears the sound of nails on wood floor, gathering
momentum, getting louder.

George Hale is running towards him at full speed.

*Oh shit!,* races through his mind. *My balls!* is next. The
dog has snapped. Scully will never forgive herself when she
finds Mulder's body ripped apart on the floor.

George Hale tries to stop and slides into Mulder's legs before
turning himself around and scrambling back to the ball of
paper. He snatches the paper into his mouth and darts out of the
room. His tail is wagging, and - as if he has been chasing paper
for all of his life - he returns to drop the wet, crumpled ball of
paper onto Mulder's lap.

Mulder's heart leaps with relief not just for his intact body. For
the first time, he is seeing this dog without its usual quota of
fear.

George Hale is standing, waiting for Mulder to throw the paper
again. "*This* is what it takes to get you to loosen up?" Mulder
asks, wiping his hands on his jeans.

He reaches over to pat him on the neck and - another first - the
dog doesn't flinch. "Go get it," Mulder says and this time it is a
good throw that lands halfway into the living room. The dog
skids after it, his small frame bouncing in joy.

Mulder lobs a few more balls of paper his way and waits for
George Hale to get bored. It doesn't happen. Twenty minutes
later, Mulder's arm is sore and the dog keeps dropping the
paper, stepping back and waiting for the next toss.

Mulder goes to the front porch and, for the first time, he looks
at this property with an eye for possibilities. When he bought
the place, he only cared that it was far enough away from the
rest of the world.

"Damnit," Mulder sighs. They have so much space on this
property but if he takes George Hale off the leash, the dog
could run. And run. And Scully would kill him.

"Stay there," he tells George Hale through the screen door.
"Uncle Spooky is going to try something."

And he makes up his mind. Today is the day. If George Hale, a
frightened dog can do it, so can he.

With nerves the size of houses, he stalls time by looking for,
and finding, his wallet. He finds and misplaces his driver's
license three times. Then he has to find his jacket because it is
still cold out there. By the time he has carefully done up his
boot laces, the knot in his stomach sends him to the bathroom
for ten minutes waiting for the worst which never comes.

He can see George Hale at the front window, bobbing up and
down.

Mulder tries to ignore him as he slips into the truck.

He hasn't been in this thing for months. Probably close to a
year. Scully has a point - he really *cannot* leave this property.
The former psychologist in him tries to remember the ABCs of
overcoming specific fears. He can only make it to A. For a
moment, thinks of ordering the supplies but that would take at
least two days to arrive and that's not fair to this animal who
has taken so long already to find what's his. George Hale
deserves more.

"Mulder, the fence is gone."

This is the first thing Scully says when she walks through the
door at six-thirty that night. She hangs up her coat, puts her
boots to the side and lands with the familiar bounce on the
couch next to Mulder.

"Evening, Scully. Actually, it's still here. Just not where it was.
Did you have a good day?"

"Peachy." She puts her feet up on the coffee table next to his.
She doesn't know what he is up to and she is almost too tired to
care. "Where did it go?"

He nods towards her satchel. "Did you bring them?"

Two sweaty hours later, sitting on the porch, and looking at his
creation, Mulder had popped open a beer and remembered what
he forgot to buy. He found the phone, dialed and left a voice
mail. "Hey, Scully, it's me. I need you to bring home some
tennis balls."

"Yes," Scully tells him. "What's going on?"

"Give me one."

Puzzled, she opens the bag and hands him one of three rubber
balls. "This has something to do with George Hale, I take it?"

"You take correctly." He makes a clicking noise. "George Hale.
Up."

Aiming carefully so that he doesn't hit Scully, he stretches his
arm back and tosses the ball high into the air.

"What are you doing throwing that in here - what the hell is he - 
oh *my God.*"

They watch in silent wonder as George Hale bolts from his
sleeping place next to the stove and dives into the air for the
ball. He misses the catch but snags the ball from the floor on
the third bounce.

Scully's eyes are filling as George Hale dances over to them
with the ball "Mulder, how - when..."

Mulder is beaming; the unthinkable has been done. He has
earned this dog's trust.

Scully reaches over and takes the ball from George Hale's
mouth. Even the slobber is a miracle. "Go get it, George Hale."
She gently rolls the ball across the room and into the kitchen
that she hates.

"I threw a crumpled piece of paper across the room and he
came charging in after it. I thought I was dinner. Guess fetch is
part of his repertoire. So, I drove to the hardware store and got
enough materials so that he doesn't have to be on a leash when
he's outside. The fence was long enough to use for one side of
the run."

"You drove to the hardware store..."

"Yeah. There were a few things in the shed I used but most of
what I needed - Scully, don't.... Don't make this ... big. I don't
know if I can do it again. I'm just running on fuel here."

"I'm not - I'm sorry." She is still smiling and she can't stop.
Mulder went out, in the truck, to the hardware store so that he
could build a run for the dog. George Hale has chased a ball
and brought it back - to Mulder.

"And you built that run?"

"Nothing like a bit of manual labour to make my old lady all
weepy."

She slaps her hand on Mulder's thigh and pushes herself up.
"Let's go outside."

They spend the evening in Mulder's new creation, taking turns
tossing ball for George Hale who is loving every second.

"What do you think they'd say at the bureau if they could see
this?" Scully asks as her arm almost gives out. But the ball
makes it into the sky anyway.

Mulder gives this some thought as he watches his brilliant dog
leap and pluck the ball out of the air. "That Mister and Mrs.
Spooky have finally gone over the edge and taken their dog,
George Spooky Hale with them."

George Hale eventually tires himself out. By that time, it is too
dark to even see the ball. But the stars are fresh, bright, clear.
The sky behind is deep blue, magical blue.

Scully braves the question. "How... how was it leaving here?"

"It was ...." He searches though his catalogue of suitable
Mulder-comeback but can't. "Hard."

She slips her hand into his and squeezes it.

"I could stay out here all night," Scully says dreamily.

"Once frostbite kicks in, you might have to."

He pats his leg and calls for George Hale to join them on the
way back to the house. The dog is careful and follows a few
paces behind.

He is not there yet but, damn, he is getting closer.