George Hale (8/17) by invisiblefriends Feedback: bettyteddyandray@gmail.com Rating: PG-13 Summary: After IWTB, life goes on. Chapter 8 Two mornings later, a terrible, frenzied sound comes out of nowhere and fills every corner in the house. Both their hearts stop and Mulder and Scully fly out of bed into auto pilot as they had learned to do every second on the road. But this time is not the click of a door knob or shitty muffler or phone blaring in the middle of the night, when nobody is supposed to know where they are except for Skinner, who would only call with urgent information. Their dog is barking. Neither of them last more than ten seconds before they realize where they are and that sometimes a bark is just a bark. "Old habits," Mulder sighs, slapping his hand over his now racing heart. "At least we know our reflexes haven't slowed," Scully says and crawls back into bed. She drags every inch of covers over her shoulders while Mulder wrestles with a pair of track pants. The place is cold again. "Why is he barking?" She wants to know, closing her eyes and almost drifting off to sleep. "Because he's a dog," Mulder politely answers. "George Hale doesn't bark." "Well, he's barking now. The wailing gets louder, wilder. They can hear the dog scratching at the windows with those nails Scully keeps forgetting to cut. "Something's got his attention." Mulder muses, trying to rub some light into their window framed with the new snow that fell. "Maybe he saw a snowflake." She drops back down and pulls the pillows over her head again. "The heat's off again, isn't it?" "Yup." Mulder jams his legs into his pajama bottoms, hopping into the second. *"Shit."* "What?" "I jumped on my sore foot." A sigh from under the pillow. "Can you make it to the front door?" He can't tell if this is concern or sarcasm. Freezing, Mulder sprints through the living room and tries to pry George Hale away from the front window. There is a man at the bottom of the front steps, standing in the foot of snow. He is wearing a black hat, a black coat and looks like a terrified federal snowman. "George Hale, Quiet," Mulder orders and climbs over him to get to the door. He turns around and points his finger sharply. "Stay." The dog bounces off the couch and over to the door in one leap. "Mulder, what is it?" Scully asks from the bedroom door as she ties up her dressing gown. "George Hale, shhh." "You want to take him, Scully," Mulder says, holding the dog back by his collar. Scully takes the dog and pulls him back. Mulder yanks open the front door and beams at their visitor. "Let me guess. Sell three more boxes of cookies and you win a bike." Then he steps back to let AD Skinner into the house. "Sir!" Scully sings, trying to keep George Hale from making a B-line to Skinner. "What the hell is that?" Skinner says, relatively sure he is safe from the killer dog. Scully has the arms of a bull when it comes to strength "George Hale," Mulder replies over the anxious puffs of their dog. "The astronomer?" Skinner demands "No," Mulder explains patiently. "That's George *Ellery* Hale. Our dog is George *Spooky* Hale. Let him go now, Scully. He's okay." As Scully lets go of the dog's collar, Mulder helps Skinner off with his snow covered coat. "It's a surprise to see you, Sir." *And so early,* he doesn't add. *On a Saturday morning.* "You know how long it takes to walk from the end of the driveway to the front door? Twenty minutes, Mulder. I thought I'd never get here." "Why did you park so far away?" "You looked out there?" He hasn't. Leaning his body to the right, he looks past Skinner's shoulder and sees nothing but white. "Let me take that, Sir," Scully says reaching for his coat. "When did you get a dog?" "A few months ago." "Don't you already have a dog? A little one?" Scully looks Mulder's way again. He steps back, embarrassed. "That was Quequag," Scully explains. "He was eaten by an alligator." "Oh. Sorry to hear that." He takes one step ahead and stops at the sight of George Hale. "Why is he staring at me like that?" Mulder leans over to Scully and whispers, "Probably never seen a fully clothed man before." "He's not used to new people," Scully says, trying not to smile. Mulder puts them all out of their misery and leads Skinner towards the couch. "Have a seat, sir. We're just about to get some coffee. Maybe some breakfast." Skinner, defrosting from his trek, smiles as if he has just been told he will live. "I would kill for both." "Mulder, come and look at this" Scully whispers from the doorway of their bedroom, Tucking in a t'shirt into his jeans, Mulder steps up behind her. "He's never done that before." "I told you he'd come out of his shell." "That dog picks his moments. And what is Skinner doing here?" "Not sure." But she knows. Skinner is being the good friend he is. After his talk with Scully yesterday, he is here to quietly see for himself that both she and Mulder are okay. George Hale is sitting up on the cushion next to Skinner, continuing his stare-a-thon. "He hasn't budged," Scully brags. George Hale has surprised them again. Twice in one morning and it isn't even eight thirty yet. "I wish you two would get cell phones." Skinner remarks as they make their way through one of Mulder's deluxe breakfasts at the table. Neither needs to tell Skinner that when it came to slimming down, traceable cell phones were the first to go. The conversation drifts from general to the dog, to updates at the bureau, and the most recent rumours concerning Mulder and Scully. They enjoy hearing these the most. Mulder intends to commit each one of these rumours to paper one day and publish for the entire FBI to see with their own eyes. He will confirm which rumours are true, which are not and which are still up for grabs. "Mulder, I assume Scully knows of the job offer?" Neither mentions that it has only taken weeks for Mulder to tell her and even then it was because she pushed. "What exactly is it?" Scully asks. "On paper, it is a new division they want set up. For Cold Cases, that kind of thing." "And off the page?" "There's a paranormal element to these cases that they can't ignore but as you can imagine, they also don't want to advertise." Mulder laughs quietly. "Me back at the bureau isn't advertisement enough?" "True enough. But there are only a handful of people there who would recognize your name." He is being stared at by two doubters. "Fine, your reputation has outlasted you." "How does Kersh feel about the idea?" "He's the one who brought position to my attention." Their jaws open slightly. "You wouldn't report to him directly but there would be the occasional contact." "Kersh?" Scully repeats, slow to filter this image through her mind. "He figures he owes you one, so yes, he is making this overture. He also made it clear that if you wished to return to the bureau, Dana, there would be a position available." "With me?" Mulder leans forward, hopefully. Skinner wondered when this question would surface. "That's not been looked at yet. Scully, I assume you'd rather eat glass than return but the message is from Kersh that if you're interested, you will be welcomed back." Mulder and Scully look like two nervous co-conspirators, plotting out the next ten steps before they take the first. "Scully's been given some offers," Mulder blurts out. "Mulder, not now," she whispers sharply. Skinner is staring back and forth between them. "Do you think - are you considering ...definitely ... moving? Away from *here?*" It is the first time that this possibility has become anything more than an idea floating in the wind. They look at each other again. "I think so," Mulder drawls carefully, waiting for Scully's signal that *'Nothing Has Been Decided so please shut up'.* But there isn't one. He hadn't realized how big a moment this would become. They haven't made this kind of decision since they stopped running and bought this house. "Yes," he says finally; definitively. "We are." Weights float from Scully's shoulders. They are going back into the world. *Oh shit,* Mulder tries not to think. They are going back into the world. He never used to understand women who went on diets, did well and then agonized over whether or not to have the itty bitty chocolate bar they see at the checkout counter. But now he understands better than most. After all this time and effort, he might unravel all the progress he has made for himself, for Scully. He could lose himself after finally getting to see who he was without the X-Files and not hating it too much. What if that goes away. He only just pushed himself to drive into town, for crissakes. "This job," Scully begins cautiously. "How much travel is involved?" "Not as much as with the X-files." "Field work?" asks Mulder. "Also, not as much. You would have two or three Field Agents assigned to you on an ongoing basis." A collective groan comes from Mulder and Scully. "They would be your choice," corrects Skinner. "Nobody would be assigned to work with you without your approval." "Unlike the last time," Scully remarks thoughtfully. "Yeah," groans Mulder. "Look how *that* turned out." Scully hesitates at her next question. "What about - would he be required to carry a weapon?" She sees Mulder's head turn sharply. She looks at him. "I don't need to worry about you anymore than need to Mulder. I've almost lost you too many times." "I could say the same thing." "Yes, but none of my current job opportunities allow me to be armed." "Oh," Skinner interrupts. "The job is also confirmed to be in DC after all." Neither man notices Scully's face change. "I thought you said it was out of state," Mulder says. "That was the initial plan. Now, they want it to remain in DC." "Kersh wants to keep an eye on the Prodigal Shit Disturber, does he?" "No, Mulder. It's not about you. It is a financial decision only." "Sure." He jams the fork into a piece of bacon and twirls it in his fingers. "Do you think he is legit?" "I do. There is a need for the position - there always has been since you both left - and I think Kersh would be glad to fill it without fanfare." "It's a Pity Offer," Mulder informs them. Scully sighs tensely across the table. Other than that, is silence. Only George Hale is making any sounds as he gnaws on one of his bones under the table. It is Skinner who brings up the obvious question he knows Scully won't. "Mulder - what do you think of going back to the bureau after everything that's happened?" Mulder sits back with a shrug. "I can stand it if Kersh can. He's the one you should be asking." "I'm asking *you.*" Skinner nods at Scully, who can't look at either of them. "And you." George Hale yawns loudly from the floor. Mulder's fork scrapes the bottom of the plate. "I want him to - I want us to get back to normal," Scully finally says, her voice catching. "But I wish it wasn't with the bureau." "Because you don't think I can handle the job?" She looks at him sharply. "Don't put words into my mouth, Mulder. I simply mean that ... I don't want to see you going towards any more dark corners again. Not now, not after all we've been through. This is our chance." "And you don't want me to screw it up." She gives up and Skinner dives in. "Mulder, neither of us think you are going to screw anything up. And it's not a question of could you do this job, it's a question of *should* you do this job. It's not you we're questioning; it's the job. The politics you'd find yourself surrounded by." Skinner knows this is not going to be an easy battle for either of them. Or for him. But the thought of his two friends finally joining the real world again will make this easier. He will have enough to do helping them in the transition if Mulder does take the job. If necessary, he thinks, as he stands up to leave later that morning, he will even make doggie daycare arrangements. Mulder and George Hale bundle up and walk Skinner down the long road to the car. The snow has finally stopped but it is high. It comes to George Hale's belly. He is not sure what to make of this, but for now, he will be a good sport and give it a try. The two humans walk behind him, talking in even voices. Mulder is not worried that today will be the day George Hale decides to bolt in a bid for freedom. With this amount of snow, he wouldn't make it four feet. "You'll start answering your messages?" Skinner asks, burying his hands deep into his coat pockets. "Yes, I will," Mulder promises. He won't try to start bullshitting Skinner at this point in life. "I appreciate your making the trip out here, Sir." "Then make it worth my time and give a lot of thought to the FBI's offer, whether you take it or not." "That's what Scully is going to say." "She'll be right. It's time, Mulder." Mulder can only nod. "Hasn't he ever seen snow before?" Skinner points to George Hale, taking one leap after another off in the distance. "No idea. He's a rescue." They walk through the snow in silence. It is nice out here, Skinner thinks briefly. He isn't a country boy - neither is Mulder for that matter - but this isn't so bad. "How are things in general?" Skinner asks awkwardly. "I'm fine, Sir. Why? Did Scully say something?" "Always suspicious. No, Mulder, this is me checking in on you both. How is that book going?" "It's not." "Have you told Scully about it?" "No. I don't want her to know in case I can't finish it. I wanted to surprise her if I did. Perhaps show her I'm not the complete mess I think she thinks I am." "You don't give her enough credit." Skinner pulls a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and hands it to Mulder. "I've had an idea - what do you think?" Mulder unfolds the paper. A smile comes to his face. "It's a good one, Sir. If you can set it up I'll look after everything else." Curiously, he adds, "What made you think of this?" There is something odd about Skinner's expression that Mulder can't read. "What?" "Nothing." He nods at the paper. "She'll be pleased." "I think so too," Mulder says, keeping an eye on George Hale. It's kind of sweet, he thinks, as it occurs to him that he and his dog have become a team. The second team he has been a part of since Scully came into his life. And now, Mulder and his dog are walking their guest to the car. They have had a guest. Life is moving fast. *Ensure your dog has a wide exposure to humans, especially those with whom he will come into contact. Take your dog onto a bus, to a big city, a small park. Let him meet new people and new dogs. A socialized dog is a happy dog. Your rescue will always be safe as long as he is with you You & Your Rescue Dog* "I didn't see that coming," Scully says when Mulder returns. He has shed his coat and boots and wandered into the kitchen, where Scully is washing the breakfast dishes. George Hale follows. "I told you he offered me the job," he protests weakly. Scully tosses him a dish towel and tries to hide her trembling hands. "That's not what I mean." He picks a handful of forks from the drainer and drowns them in the towel as each one gets the treatment. "So?" she begins. God, why does she do this when he hasn't had the chance to process things first? He feels like an unarmed man. "So ...." he repeats with forced patience. She tries to sound normal, disinterested even. "So it *would* be a Washington posting." "So? Is that a problem?" "I guess I hoped it was some place ... different." She takes a safe deep breath and wonders when these things became so difficult. "There is something else I didn't tell you. I've also been offered a job at Washington Hospital Centre; heading up a research department." Thud. "When were you going to drop that little tidbit?"Mulder tries not to sigh too hard. He isn't in the mood for any more surprises. "I wouldn't talk, Mulder. if Skinner hadn't called me, would you have told me any of this?" "Probably no more than you would have told me about either of your offers. Look, I can take Skinner's offer if it makes your decision easier." "I just think ... we shouldn't make life changing decisions based on convenience. I don't know if I want that job. You don't know if you want the bureau's." But this is a lie because she does know; She knows that very much that she wants this job. She just doesn't want this city and all its memories. Scully accidentally drops the frying pan into the emptying sink. It lands with a bang as soap bubbles and dishwater spirit out in different directions. "Sorry," she says, looking down at the water. She literally throws the towel into the sink and leaves the room. Mulder follows her over to the couch, where she is now sitting, dangerously pensive. "What?" He puts the towel and forks onto the coffee table and hovers over her with folded arms. "What is so difficult about this? I'm the one who doesn't want any sort of change, remember? Why is this suddenly so difficult for you?" "I need to know what *you* want, too." "I told you. I want to go where you want to go. I'll make my decisions based on that. If you want a job in Timbuktu, I'll go happily. Same for Boston. Same for anywhere. If you want to go back to DC, I'll take the bureau job." Another groan. He isn't getting it. Or, if he is, he doesn't know what the hell to do with this decision they have just made to rejoin the real world. When Mulder glanced at her, after Skinner asked the Big Question, she knew that, for one beautiful moment of symmetry, a brief whirlwind in time, they were both optimistic and knew if nothing else, they were ready to take that next step. Then the moment ended, but the words had come out and there was no taking them back. "If - if - we do end up in DC, lets at least try a new neighborhood that neither of us have lived in before," Scully says. Mulder nods, confused, but willing to go along "Okay..." He knows he should be reading her much clearer by this point in life but something is blocking the Mulder-to-Scully radar. "I'm a little confused, Scully. What is your problem with DC? If nothing else, your mother lives there." "No, she is still in San Diego and she's renting her house until she knows if she's coming back." "Fine. If she doesn't, then we'll rent her house instead of a stranger until we find our own place." "Jesus, Mulder, do you have the change of address cards ready? Nobody's confirmed anything yet." "I don't get this, two minutes ago you were all for moving away from here." Two minutes ago. "Just not back where we started. I want ... a change." "That's it? You want a change? The living in a one bedroom car and then a crappy farmhouse hasn't been enough of a change?" "I'm used to change, I grew up with it, you didn't." His mouth, then eyes, then entire face scrunches into complete confusion. "You're basing our future together on our *childhoods?*" "Don't be glib about this." She shakes her head and turns to look out the front window. Except for the trail left behind from two grown men and a curious dog, it is untouched, and is going to stay that way until it melts. It is a sea of white and when the sun comes out one of these days it will be almost impossible to look at from the glare. That something should be so dazzling to look at and be so difficult at the same time is unusually unfair she thinks. But that fact, in its various incarnations, has been the story of her life. "What's wrong, Scully?" When she turns around from the safety of the snow on the other side of this window, she sees Mulder still standing there, his arms still folded. Waiting. "Nothing. Are you sure you want to go back to the bureau?" "I don't know. I haven't given it enough thought." He clears his throat quietly. "But it sounds like you have." "I just want to make sure that you are sure that the bureau is the best option for you, especially when you've been here for a year. Do you think that ... do you think you are .... Ready?" He stiffens. "And *what* constitutes 'ready'?" Scully knows *'ready'* was a careless word to use. It overflows with accusations and doubt. *"Well?"* He isn't going to let her off the hook. "It's been a hard year for you." "And? You think I might suddenly panic in a budget meeting and end up hiding under Skinner's desk?" "How do you know going back to the bureau won't set you back? Mulder, you were so caught up in your world there before everything changed. I am scared you could fall into that trap again, especially after being so isolated since moving here. You've only driven once since you built that run for George Hale." "Thank you, I'd forgotten that." "I don't mean to sound as if I doubt your progress." "Really, because that's exactly how you sound." He jams his hands into his pockets and tries to take in a deep, steady breath. "I'm not sure of anything yet. But say I did take the job, it would be because I want to. And if I do, it is not forever and it would be on my terms. We'd get benefits, back pay, moving costs." He stares at her a moment longer. "But that isn't the reason for the look on your face." *Please don't make me say it,* she thinks. She does not want to go there today. Mulder will make the connection with Georgetown soon enough and until then, she has no intention of skirting around near dangerous subjects. Mulder sits on the coffee table and tries not to notice the squeak in the wood. He expects it to collapse under him any moment. "We can go to Georgetown or Arlington or anywhere else we want. We can buy a house, a big roomy one, enough guest rooms for your mother, brothers, their kids. I suppose we could get a backyard tent for me when your big brother visits..." He waits for the usual *Bill-Hates-Mulder* smile that usually follows one of these off-hand remarks. There is nothing. "Is that it, Scully? Buying a house with me? It's too domestic? I thought I'd be the one with that issue." Scully sharply turns from the moisture on the window where she has been idly drawing circles. "You're the guy so you get to have the *domesticity* doubts? We've lived together the past year because we have wanted to, not because we had to. I know I want to live with you, as I assume you want to live with me." "I'm going to hope that something other than the question of my feelings for you prompted that." Nothing. "Why did it take you this long to tell me about the DC offer?" "I didn't want to get into it. Because of ... this...." She waves her hand around the room in a grand gesture of deflection. "This what?" "This... conversation. It's one more detail when, honestly, I'm not sure either of us can handle one more detail right now." "Speak for yourself, Scully. Despite what you're probably not admitting to yourself in the back of your mind, I'm not a total mental and emotional incompetent. I can handle this. " "I didn't say you couldn't." "No, actually, you pretty much implied it." There is no further response from her and Mulder realizes this discussion ended a few paragraphs ago. He turns back to the kitchen. The cold blanket comes over Scully suddenly and without any warning. For the rest of the weekend, Scully will keep to herself and feel like shit. Unexpected shit. Mulder shouldn't have mentioned Georgetown. Or maybe it was his obliviousness to this suggestion. All she knows is that the worst place she can be is DC and to have to tell Mulder this will open too many wounds. Shit. She never wanted to feel this way. She has never wanted to feel so safe.