George Hale (9/17)
by invisiblefriends

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


Chapter 9

*"I am surprised at how simple it is to unload everything in my
life onto a dog. I know he cannot understand my words but
maybe my voice and all its tones provide him with the
information I'm putting out there. I know he won't repeat my
words to anybody, or that he won't worry about my emotional
health and suggest I get help or at the very least, a life. I've
told him about William, about Scully's decision, about our life
on the run and as a respectable couple; about my surprise for
Scully; George Hale knows as much of my life as I do. George
Hale could write this damn book and give it a humanity I can't
seem to manage. This was to be another surprise for Scully; an
accomplishment which she could show to the world and
announce, 'I'm with this man'. Right now I would settle for, 'I
know this man'. I am contemplating terminating the contract
I've made with the publishing company -FWM*


During a fifteen-minute lunch break in a day-long meeting, Scully
finds herself being drawn into a conversation about pets. She
doesn't usually join in on these because she doesn't feel she had
anything in common with the general topics. The others in the
meetings have regular lives and she doesn't. But now, stabbing the
salad in front of her, she does. At least it takes her mind away from
her problems with Mulder and the million or so insults she managed
to direct his way. But he was getting too close and she needed him
out of the way. This is her first full conversation since the
breakdown in communication with Mulder on Saturday. Sunday he
took George Hale for a long walk in the morning. She took the dog
out for a long walk in the afternoon. The only one to sleep well that
night was George Hale.

Curt, at the other end of the table, and dripping with restlessness,
had piped up that the mysterious Dana had a new dog; a pit bull.
Named after an astronomer. As annoying as this is - and Curt can
be annoying - she likes hearing herself mentioned in this kind of
context; something about her life that fits in with the others. Maybe
it's a holdover from childhood, she thinks, when every relocation
meant having to reintroduce herself.

One person asked about the dog. Another about his name. Another - 
an ardent cat lover - asked if he had bitten anybody yet. Scully
had to disappoint her and say no. Someone asked if she had a
photograph of him.

"In my office," she replies.

A few of them looked at Scully as if she was crazy. A few others
looked at the one who asked the question as if she was insane too.

Astrid, the Human Recourses nurse pats her purse. "I keep my
baby right here."

"Must be tough to breath," Curt observes.

"His *photograph,*" she corrects.

"It's not a child, it's a dog," someone else added.

And that started the discussion of pets versus children and why pets
were treated like a surrogate for the real thing. Scully brooded over
this for the rest of the meeting with this question that had been
lodged at the back of her mind. Is that what George Hale is to her?
Is that why she brought George Hale into their lives? So he could
replace an absent member of the family? No, she is not that much in
self-denial that she could miss a sign like that. He is a dog, not a
child. George Hale is about George Hale.

The meeting finally ends and the chairs are shoved back, books and
brief cases close. Curt catches Scully's eye and makes a steering-
wheel gesture with his hands. She nods and points in the direction
of the parking lot. If they can arrange to leave at the same time,
Curt will drive her home tonight on his way,. Scully's car is not
working. He lives ten miles further from Scully.

It is dark by the time they go through the hospital's front doors. The
sky is an eerie blue behind grey clouds but there is something
innocent about it Scully thinks. Blue and grey are colours she has
always liked together. Moody, hopeful. She's never been sure why
she has been drawn to them but she is.

"You going to Stilens retirement party on Friday?" Curt asks, taking
the front steps two at a time. All-day meetings leave him unusually
restless.

"No," she tells him rolling her eyes and making her usual cautions
descent, one step at a time.

"Still regretting not following up on that job?"

"No. Nothing stop you from going to the party."

"Doing my hair."

They both hate Stilens. Stilens hates everybody.

Scully thinks she hears her name being called from far away but it is
too dark to see deep into the parking lot.

"Most drivers just hold up signs with your name on them." Curt is
pointing towards a pickup truck by the entrance. A man and dog
are standing in front of the passenger door. The man's hands are
tucked deep into his jean pockets. Around his left wrist is a leash,
and a few feet from the leash is a pit-bull trying to contain his
excitement.

"Hey, Scully," Mulder repeats, this time with a wave.

"Mulder?" If Mulder didn't have a strange grin on his face her first
instinct would be to assume something is wrong.

But instead, she is so moved and relieved by the sight of this man -
her man - and her dog here to pick her up, take her home, to claim
her as their own. And to do this, he has driven his truck into town.
The first time he left the property was for George Hale; now for
her. And she knows what it has cost him to do this.

Curt looks at Scully deliciously. "Your boyfriend calls you by your
*last* name?"

"It's an old - never mind. Did you want to meet him?"

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this for the world," he says salaciously and
follows Scully across the icy parking lot.

Mulder can see the smile on Scully's face grow and grow as she
gets closer. He is only slightly concerned about the tall, dark man
following her; the man whose sports car she was about to get into;
whose name she has probably mentioned a million times. All he can
see is Scully trying not to give into an onset of tears and pride. For
all the anxiety it took to get into the truck, her face right now will
make him do it over and over again if that is what it takes to see
that joy.

"Hi." Awkwardly, Mulder leans down to kiss her cheek.

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Uh... Picking you up. Sorry, I should have called."

Once he had George Hale in the truck, Mulder had gone back and
forth to the phone five times with the intention of calling her. But
each time he didn't because he was scared that once he committed,
he wouldn't be able to go through with it. It took him twenty
minutes to leave the property.

"No - that's. Never mind." She crouches down to greet her other
admirer. "Hi, Sweetie." George Hale is bouncing up and down for
her attention without letting his feet leave the ground. She stands
back up again because there is an awkward job to be done. She
has not introduced Mulder to anyone since George Hale and she
will always remember the look of dread on his face. "Fox Mulder,"
she says, tossing in an apologetic smile. "This is Curt Fraser."

She steps back as the two men step in and shake hands. "Heard a
lot about you," Curt spits out. At the look on worry on Mulder's
face, he adds, "Okay, nothing. I've heard nothing about you from
Dana except that you may or may not exist. Dana doesn't gossip
nearly as much as she should."

"No, I leave that for you. And Dinky."

"Real name is Bob," Curt explains. "Goes by Dinky because
basically he's a dink." Curt takes a look at the mystery man in front
of him. "So, Dana, this is your fellow? Your *boyfriend* - your
beau - your para-"

"My Fox," she corrects, knowing Curt can - and will - go on
forever. He can be a thesaurus if he thinks it will make someone -
her, in this case - writhe in discomfort.

"And this guy ..." Curt crouches down and wrestles the delirious
George Hale onto his back for a belly rub while Mulder carefully
catches Scully's uncomfortable eye. "Hey, he's a beauty," Curt
gushes from below. "You're a handsome dude, arn'cha? You look
bigger than your picture, that's for sure." He glances up and says to
Mulder, "Actually, so do you,"

Another puzzled look floats from Mulder to Scully. She hadn't
mentioned that there was also now a photo of him and George Hale
on her desk. It's not as much of an oversight as it is strategy. She
isn't sure how he would like knowing his likeness is on display, well
out of his reach. She wonders if his face had ever graced
someone's desk before. Or if her own face had.

Curt finally stands up before his knees give. "You're a hee-man,
Georgie boy. Bet you got your mom and dad eating outa the palm
of your ... paw."

Scully and Mulder avoid the other's eye.

"What is it about an animal that turns adults into babies and animals
into children," Curt muses. "Guess we're all just so damn cute.
Listen, good to meet you ... Mulder? Fox? Does everyone in your
immediate family call you by your last name?"

"Even his parents," Scully assures him.

"Lucky stiff. My parents called me Cuddles until I was twenty-five.
Hey, congratulations on your job offer."

Mulder's eyes dart to Scully's.

She pauses for an uncomfortable moment and spits out, "I
mentioned it."

Curt opens his arms wide and for a moment, they think he is going
in to lay a hug on Mulder. But he by-passes the two humans and
dives for one final play with George Hale. "You are so cute," he
gushes, "Yes you are. Oh, *yesyouare.*"

"Curt, you're embarrassing yourself," Scully informs him in a nice
sort of way.

He laughs. "I don't care. See you tomorrow, Dana. Evening, Fox."

George Hale, broken hearted as newest friend strolls away,
remembers his oldest friends are still here and the love-in resumes.

"Mulder," Scully says quietly, loving this man for everything he is
and isn't.

He opens the passenger door for her. "It's not a big deal, Scully."

After Saturday's outburst, they both know it is a very big deal and
she can leave it at that for now. Mulder waits until George Hale has
hopped in after Scully and closes the door.

"So," he says, starting up the engine. "Interesting guy."

"Curt? He can be."

"Anything I should worry about?

"Yes." She waits for the reaction she wants and gets it. "No,
Mulder. He's very happily married.
Besides, I think he's more interested in George Hale than in me. But
thank you for your concern."

"Any time," he says, pulling out of the icy driveway.

They hear is a car horn and Curt speeds by in his sports car,
waving to the dog.

"See?" Scully says.

"He always drive like that?"

"No. He's showing off. He's a careful driver, Mulder. But again,
thank you for your concern."

"Any time," he repeats. He checks his rearview mirror long enough
to get the nerve to ask, "Do you really have a picture of me on your
desk?"

"Yes. The one of you and George Hale on the couch that I took
last month. And I've got one of George Hale." She saves the hidden
photo for last. "And one of us."

He is obviously not ready for that yet. Come to think of it, neither is
she. Family photographs on display in any kind of manner are for
domesticated people - normal people. Rule #29 in the land of
Moose and Squirrel states that you don't put up photographs of
loved ones once wanted by the FBI because that usually draws
attention. Nor do you put up photographs of your loved one when
neither you, nor your loved one, has ever done such a thing before.

There is a truck and a bus both trying to turn on the same light.
Mulder has to maneuver carefully to avoid either of them. A tense
sigh slips out of his mouth that Scully puts down to his return to
driving.

But she realizes this is wrong when Mulder asks pointedly, "What
else did you tell him about us?"

Damn Curt and his big, well intentioned mouth for not realizing that
Rule #1 in the world of Moose and Squirrel is that you do *not*
talk about Moose and Squirrel to anybody, especially to Moose
and Squirrel.

"Nothing, Mulder, I'm sorry I even mentioned it to him."

"What else does he know?"

She turns to him sharply. "In what respect?"

"Us. Our past two years. The bureau. Important details like those."

"Mulder, don't be so paranoid. I would no more break that rule
than you would."

"Does he know about *your* job offers?"

Guilty, she nods.

"*Both* of them?"

"Yes."

This stings worse than the possibility that she could have told Curt
about their 'past two years. "Are you *serious,* Scully? You don't
even know this guy. You don't tell people like that... What else
does he know about me? Shit, this is why I hate-"

He'd like to go on but he can't. There are too many items in this list
of *This is Why I Hate* to even begin.

"Why, Mulder? Because you think we are still some mystery that
needs to be cracked or because you just love your Mulder
anonymity; the aliases, the pen names that mystique you created for
yourself over the years."

He stares ahead, concentrating on the traffic. "How long has he
known about your offers?"

"For a while," she sighs,

"So why the hell did you tell him before you told me?"

So now they are getting down to it. More modern domesticity
creeps closer. Mulder doesn't like her trusting anyone but the Holy
Trinity of *Mulder, Mother and Skinner.*

"I hate to break this to you, Mulder, but you are not the poster boy
for objectivity. Especially where this is concerned. I wish I had told
you about them but I was just as confused as you were about
yours. And we both needed someone objective to bounce these
things off of."

"So you have to go to a total stranger?"

"Curt is a stranger to *you,* not to me. I trust him and consider him
a friend. Friends? Remember those? Conversations with someone
other than each other or the dog. Don't you miss that, Mulder?
Talking technology with the boys; talking shop with Chuck."

He snorts. "Maybe Curt could be my friend."

"You could do a lot worse."

"What about you? I don't see you gabbing on the phone, making
lunch plans with the girls."

"I lost contact with my friends when I started working with you."

Now they are treading on dangerous ground. *Those Days.*

"Nice," Mulder says. "I take a lot of blame for the many things that
have happened to you over the years, but I didn't know that I was
responsible for your lack of social life, too."

"We're not doing this," Scully says. "I've never blamed you for
anything, and if I did, I wouldn't start with my lack of social life."

The truth is, she never had many close friends before she joined the
X-Files. She was as much a private person as Mulder; she just
kept the status quo of no friends where he has abandoned the few
he had.

"Everything that happened... then - that was my choice, just like
everything we did together was my choice. Damnit, Mulder, how
many times do I have to tell this to you?"

A million wouldn't cover it.


Twenty minutes later, when they should have been home and
tucked in bed, they are still driving. The main road is slippery.
Mulder had driven in enough bad weather delivering furniture as a
teenager to know that you don't tempt fate. You let the weather tell
you how fast to go.

It was a low blow, her telling something about him to a stranger.
She should have known better. She, who is dozing next to him, her
head against the window, mouth slightly open. He would like to ask
again what else she has told Curt about him; his family. Did she tell
him how he spent the better part of a year trapped in a house in
front of a computer? How he and she ran for a year from the very
organization they worked for? His favourite brand of underwear?

*What else* - he would like to know - *did she tell him about
me.*

As he slows down to wait for a train, he glances over and watches
her sleep. She looks tired these days and he keeps meaning to ask
her about it. He would like her to take some time away from work
and they could go away, stay home, whatever she wants to do. He
knows what date is coming and maybe this is where the ambush
after Skinner's visit came from.

If she has remembered it, she isn't giving any clues. And if she
hasn't, maybe getting out of here for a week wouldn't be such a bad
idea.

George Hale is huddled between them, studying the end of his tail.
He is busy.

Mulder gently moves a strand of hair away from her face. Scully
stirs and Mulder realizes he has done this without even realizing it.
He has always reached over to her when she sleeps, as if there is
some way to tap into that peace she seems to be floating within.

"Hey," he whispers softly. "Go back to sleep."

Scully sits up, feeling very stiff and stunned. "No, I'm up." She
looks out the window. There is nothing to see but darkness.
"Where are we?"

"About two miles from home. Try and sleep, Scully. By the time we
get there, you'll just have to get up for work again."

She tries to adjust the seatbelt but George Hale is sitting on the
clasp. "I might call in tomorrow," she yawns.

The train finally passes and Mulder crosses the tracks. Rural He
hesitates before asking. She can be worse than he is when it comes
to what they have both always considered private matters. "You
feeling okay these days?"

She looks around as if she wants to know from where this mystery
question just popped out. "Fine. Why?"

"Just asking. You've been working long hours. You seem a little ...
tired."

*Tired;* a safe word. *Sick* would have him defending his right
to live.

"This from the man who, until five years ago, didn't have a bed
because he didn't need to sleep. Yes, Mulder, I'm fine. I'm tired
now because it's been a long day in an eight hour meeting."

"Eight hours?"

"One PowerPoint after the other. Lunch was interesting. Curt
decided to announce to the group that I had a pit-bull."

Mulder smiles. He can imagine the joy in Scully to be singled out,
whether it was about something interesting or not. "You must have
relished the moment."

"No. But you do find out a lot about people when they begin to talk
about their pets."

"Future Cat Ladies?"

"Not so much that - you just see them in a different light. You
suddenly find out the person you think is a complete asshole used
to rescue homeless cats. People you think are made of stone
suddenly produce pictures of their dogs from their wallets. And
everyone last one of them ...." She stops herself from telling him that
every last one of them considers their animal to be their baby.

She can't do it. Mulder would understand, he would know what to
say and what not to say. But not now. It will hurt too much.

"Let me guess. *Their* dog is the best of its breed."

"Something like that," she smiles weakly and turns her head back
toward the window and the darkness. "Mulder - about DC -"

He sighs loudly. "I don't want to get into that now -"

"No. Just listen - I - we should look into it - those jobs. I was being
irrational."

"You're many things, Scully, but never irrational."

"We need to talk to some people - beyond Curt, Skinner and
George Hale - and make sure these are jobs we both want ."

He looks at her from the corner of his eye to make sure there is no
pie in her hand. "Okay," he agrees evenly. "I think so too."

"Okay, then."

They drive in silence.

"I know you think I should have had enough of DC to last a life
time of terrible memories," Mulder offers.

Scully nods. This is an understatement. "It's not like those were
easy days for you, Mulder. So much was happening to you,
professionally, personally. Your life splitting into so many pieces
while you looked for answers to why it broke in the first place. You
lost your mother, your father - your sister all over again - your
whole family."

He is looking at her as if she is an idiot.

"What?" she says and wonders what wrong thing she has just said.

"I had *you,*" he explains obviously. "*You* were my family."

He is always this mystery, who hides little gems like this and takes
her by surprise by placing them gently into her hand. She has never
decided where she fit into his life during those days; occasionally it
was a given, often a mystery. Always an honour. "What - first
cousin?"

"Nah, more like a fourth cousin. The kind you can fool around
with." He has made her laugh. A triumph. "So tell me, Scully. You
don't mind your hermit boyfriend - who goes by his last name and
has a killer dog, who happens to be afraid of cats - coming to pick
you up sometimes?"

"I like showing him off. Maybe sometime he'll come inside and meet
a few more people."

"One miracle at a time, Scully. It took an act of God to get me to
drive into that parking lot."

"I know it did," she tells him, squeezing his hand. She knows a lot
about small acts of bravery and the costs they can have.