George Hale (17/17)
by invisiblefriends

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


Chapter 17

The after-work Farewell-to-Another-One-of-Us Party is the same
as any other office party in the world . There are the usual number
of people who fly in from their shifts, say goodbye to the departee,
grab a handful of brownies and dart back to their jobs. There are
the pleasant drunks who have just finished a 12 hour shift and
wouldn't think of unwinding without a little celebration. And there
are the Perpetually Uncomfortable at any social event with five or
more people in the room. There are the ones who have a beef with
the guest of honour.

And then there are The Obligated; the spouses and relatives who -
despite trying every possible argument and lie - cannot get out of
coming to the event.

Today, that lucky winner is Mulder. He passes all the criteria for
The Obligated and also qualifies as the Perpetually Uncomfortable.

He has been here for forty-five minutes and has left to find the
bathroom five times. He doesn't need to use the toilets, he just
needs to get the hell out of here. He didn't know what he was doing
thinking he could handle this kind of crowd again. This is the most
people he has been with at one time since the last FBI conference
he went to. Crowds were not even an issue in those days. Now, he
can't believe he hates them so much.

"Curt, where's Mulder?"

Scully has pulled Curt away from an argument with Watson about
what car has the better mileage in winter.

"One sec, Dave." Drink in hand, Curt bends towards Scully so that
he can hear her over the noise. "What?"

"Mulder - have you seen him?"

Curt stands up and glances around the room. Being tall, looking for
the tall, has its privileges. "Nope"

"Try the can," Dave pipes in.

Yes, Scully thinks, she will crash the men's room, that will leave a
lasting impression.

"Yeah, I think I've seen him head there a few times." Curt must be
on a role with the argument, because he has turned back to Dave
and resumes the point he was making

The corridor that leads to the Doctors-Only Men's room is
unusually quiet. Scully gently opens the outside door to the
bathroom and calls, "Mulder?"

There is the sound of a tap running. The door flies open from inside
She jumps back. Mulder emerges, drying his hands on his pants.
He tries to look normal, something he doesn't think he has mastered
very well in years.

"Scully."

"Mulder."

He tilts his head and asks curiously, "Did you want the tour?"

"The tour?" She glances over his shoulder and realizes what he's
talking about. "No, I've seen my share, thank you."

"Oh, do tell."

"Are you all right? Someone said they saw you here a few times."

"Just freshening up."

"Sure you are." She carefully guides him by the elbow to a row of
chairs under the stair case. "Sit." They wait there silently. She
knows he is probably okay because he slips down in the chair with
his legs out as if he is waiting for nothing.

He slowly takes her fingers into his one by one. "It was getting a
little crowded in there."

"And this is a *small* party. Seriously, Mulder, what's going on?"

"I was getting a little ... overwhelmed. I'm fine, Scully. I haven't
been in a room that full of people in years. At least there weren't
any flipcharts growing out of the walls."

"Oh, those conferences they made us go to." Scully smiles. "Or
tried to make us go to."

"Exactly. But in the bathroom, I was thinking..." He pauses and tries
to get the right words, even though he knows he doesn't have to.
She will understand him regardless of what which he uses. "None of
those people know who I am except for your pretend boy friend.
They have no idea who I used to be. To them I'm just some Joe-
Schmo who shacks up with the Doctor Lady. I'm not Spooky
Mulder, I'm not the Freak in the Basement or Mr. Conspiracy or -"

"Wait - does that make me Mrs. Freak in the Basement?"

"Not any more. That ... baggage - it's all gone, disappeared and
what's left is me and you and a room full of *them.* I don't.... I've
never sensed that before."

"Nothing like a crowd to provide a bit of healthy anonymity."

"Agreed." He flips his watch upwards. "Can we go home now?"

"I can't leave yet. It's too early. For better or worse, I still have a
history with these people."

"And a future with me. It's not that I don't want to be here, Scully,"
he explains. "It's just that I'd rather be at home. Alone. With you."

He doesn't want to spoil his surprise; it took him most of the
afternoon to get their house to look its very best for their last night
together He drove into town to get her favourite wine, which is now
chilling in the fridge. He drove to the other end of town to find the
specialty shop that had her favourite chocolate.

On the way home, he passed the animal shelter. He tried to imagine
Scully going in that day, her sure footing, the look on her face that
dared anyone to get in her way. And coming out with George Hale
attached to her, and never ever letting go.

He pulled the car over, knowing this was going to make him late.
He walked into the noisy shelter and told the lady at the front desk
that he was George Hale's father. The woman remembered George
and how terrified he was when he was brought in. And, hearing
how well he had done with this couple, she began to get weepy,
just as she had done with Curt. Mulder dropped two hundred
dollar bills on the counter and wished her and the other animals
well. These animals may not have a permanent home but at least
they live with people who love them, he realized and thought it must
cost these people dearly to love these dog so much.

"Let's go find the abandoned Doctor's Lounge and make out."

"Mulder, no," She reluctantly tugs him back in the direction of the
lounge. "I really don't want to be known as this month's Make Out
Bandit."

"Make-Out Bandit?"

"Apparently, that's what they call people who get caught."

Mulder is intrigued. "I could live with that."

"Mulder, do you really want to get me in that kind of trouble?"

"Might be more fun than staying at that party."

Scully sighs. "I know."

"And dangerous." He leans in and whispers furtively. "Don't you
miss the *danger,* Former Agent Scully?"

She smiles. "Not that kind. Come on. Fifteen more minutes. You
can call my cell and say there's an emergency with George Hale."

"Whom everyone knows is home, alone and can't use a phone."

"I have a better idea...." She pulls a rolled up twenty-dollar bill from
her pocket and jams it into his hand. "Here. Boudreau from
diagnostics won it from someone who said I had made you up to
keep him from hitting on me. Go to the pub next door. I'll meet you
there in a while."

"They *were* taking bets? Are we really that interesting or are they
just that bored?"

She shrugs and answers as diplomatically as possible, "A little of
both, I suppose"


Scully corners Curt by the fruit bowl and slaps twenty dollar bill
(Booth in X-ray) into his hand.

"Why, Dana," he says, moved. "I only got you a ten."

"I need a favour. Mulder's waiting for me in the pub. Keep him
company until I can get away?"

His eyes light up. "You're paying me to leave your farewell party?"

"Yes."

"You know there is a sainthood in this for you. Saint D."

She can only roll her eyes. "Oh, I've been hearing that for years."


"You're kidding, right?" Curt puts his beer down on the counter. It
lands with a small splash.

Mulder shakes his head.

"The FBI" Curt spits out. "*The* F*B*I"

Another nod, maybe even a justified smile. Mulder has had three
beers but these are only a small reason for the lovely buzz
happening in his head. Watching a curious outsider's reaction is
almost worth the years of silence.

"*Both* of you?" Curt's voice goes up a few octaves. "FBI
agents?"

"That's where we met. Almost fifteen years ago."

"You've been together fifteen years?"

Mulder tips the rest of the third beer down his throat and plunks the
glass down. "How long did you think we've been together?"

"Way longer than that. High school sweethearts maybe."

Mulder laughs. "I would have been so out of her league, it wouldn't
have been funny."

This is an odd comment, Curt thinks, coming from this guy, but he
will let it pass. He pauses from his drinking as the details of his
encounters with these two come into focus. The way are with each
other as if nobody else in the world could exist.

Mulder hiccups and tries to cover by clearing his throat.

Curt doesn't notice. " I knew there was something guys were
hiding. Now, it makes sense. You calling each other by your last
names. Dana being so elusive about what you did. She says you
write for Science Journals."

"I *do.*"

"Really?"

Mulder shoots him a blasé, *do I look like I'm kidding* look.

"And your real name is really Fox Mulder?"

"You think I would make that up?"

"I don't know. Maybe. You called your dog George Spooky Hale,
for crissakes." Curt finishes the beer and signals the bartender for
another one. He points to Mulder and nods again. "Okay, so tell
me everything. How did you end up *here?*"

Mulder will sadly have to omit *How He Ended Up Here,* but the
start of his tale is up for grabs. "I joined the bureau after university.
Began with the BSU -"

"Thanks," Curt says as two more beers are put before him and
Mulder. "BSU? What the hell is ..."

"Behavioral Science Unit. Then Violent Crimes. Then I moved onto
less ..." He pauses. "less  tangible cases. Paranormal. That sort of
thing."

"You?"

"You don't know me that well, Curt. They used to call me Spooky.
Spooky Mulder."

*"Spooky Mulder,"* Curt repeats as if he's been let in on the
worlds coolest secret. "What about Dana?"

"Well, sometimes they'd call her Mrs. Spooky, but not to her face."

"No - I meant how did she join the FBI?"

"She started out with a B.S. in physics, got her MD from Stanford
and was lured to the FBI with dreams of working in to a basement
office with a Socially Inept Agent where she used her applied her
medical know-how in forensic pathology to finding the truth and
gradually turned the Socially Inept Agent into a functioning Human
Being."

"Did you carry guns?"

Mulder nods. "Part of our work."

"Dana carried a gun? *Little* Dana?"

"You've seen Little Dana in action. Do you think she needed a
gun?"

Curt agrees. He's seen her in action. "She gets more done without a
gun, than most well equipped bank robbers I know."

"She is - she *was* - a better shot than me. But I could aim
higher."

"And you shot people."

"Only if they shot first."

"So when did you ...." Curt tries to find the polite word for two
coworkers who probably broke a shit load of rules one night on a
whim of curiosity. "...make it personal?"

Two days after William was born; the day Scully brought the baby
home and she and Mulder stood in her bedroom, each holding the
baby as everything in his life began to make sense; until a fucking
phone call changed everything two days later.

"What?" Curt says, waiting. Whatever Mulder just mumbled, it was
not audible.

"Nothing. We didn't hook up until I'd left the bureau." The beer
finds his lips. "I was asked to leave, actually."

"As in fired?"

"You could put it that way."

"Wow."

The pub is filling up. So far, they are only two at the bar, but when
more people start nudging for elbow room, they are going to have
to grab a booth. Typical Mulder, he will think about himself later -
he is still being careful of what he says and to whom and where he
says it.

"So...." Curt says, drawing out that handy word as for as long as he
can. "You two worked closely together for - what, eight years?" A
few tics and shrugs compete the rest of the question.

"Give or take."

"And all that time, you and her...."

"It's complicated."

"I love complicated."

"Yeah," Mulder says, putting a little more beer away. "I bet you
do."

"Well, you have to admit, you two are ... interesting."

"I hate that word."

"Why did it take you that long to get together. You both have other
significant others?"

If only it were that easy. "No. We were just .... *cautious.*"

"For *eight* years?"

"When you're in the kind of situations our job dictated .... There
were just certain protocols you had to maintain." Mulder-talk for
*neither of us were ready to face ourselves and each other
yet.* "I knew there wouldn't be any other people. I knew she was
the only one I wanted to be with. The same for her. We just didn't
verbalize it."

Curt puts away another slug of beer. "Weird."

Mulder thinks back to *those days.* They had each other. They
didn't need to say so. And too scared as shit to risk that by taking
the baby steps they would have needed.

"I did kiss her once."

Curt leans in. "And ..."

"We were watching the ball drop on New Year's eve on TV - we'd
just finished up a hard case - people were celebrating, Dick Clark
was dizzy with joy. I just looked down at her and thought, 'Why
not' And I leaned in and kissed her. It was ....right. But we knew it
wasn't time... I think I told her I loved her once, but I'd had a head
injury from a boating accident, so I'm not really sure what I said."

Curt's head is shaking in amazement.

"Everyone at the bureau thought we were sleeping together."
Mulder chuckles. "A lot people lost a lot of money on a lot of bets."

"Christ, I would have had to foreclose," Curt groans. "So you guys
were just friends - that whole time?"

"Yup. I was on a case and was asked casually if I had a significant
other. My first reaction was 'how did you know?' It hadn't
occurred to me until then that I'd had thought of her as my
significant other for years. We did the usual things couples did
without actually being a couple. I showed her how to play baseball,
we took road trips; sat by each other's bedsides when one of us
was injured or inflicted with terminal diseases; stayed up with each
other during the losses of various family members and family
members who would never be; went camping and were almost
eviscerated by bugs, then on another trip by giant fungal spores;
took a weekend trip to the lake and got her dog killed; got
abducted by various alien organizations..."

Curt is deciding if any or just some of this is true. He won't come to
any solid conclusions for years to come.

"Okay, " he says. "What about other family? Brothers? Sisters?"

Ordinary personal questions, requiring details that most people
offer without a beat. Family background, origin of birth, siblings
who were taken from your house by forces you will never
understand, even though you spent most of your life following and
believing and never losing sight of.

"Uh.... Sister."

"Older? Younger?"

"Younger. She - she died when - a long time ago."

"Me too. Well, mine was older. Cancer."

Silence. Curt is more comfortable with this than Mulder. "You
never get over that, do you," Curt says too quietly.

"No," Mulder says "You don't."

Curt raises his glass. "To our sisters."

"To our sisters," Mulder agrees and wonders if this ever gets easier.


Scully, all timing as usual, throws her purse on the bar and watches
the two men jump. " Sorry, I thought I could get away sooner." She
hops on to the stool next to Mulder and sees Curt beaming at her.

"What?"

"Nothing.... *Special Agent*Scully."

Scully's head snaps towards Mulder. "*What* is he talking about?"

Curt leans over and gives her a conspiratorial punch on arm.

Her eyes seer into the side of Mulder's head. *"Mulder?"*

"Oh, hey, Scully."

"I thought we had agreed a long time ago, for obvious reasons that
we wouldn't disclose that kind of information."

"I didn't think it could do any harm."

"You didn't think it could do any harm?"

"It's been a while, Scully," he dares to say in the kind of voice that
you would use to tell someone to chill out.

"And that's your call? Past, present or future - it is still a decision
we need to talk about. If we -" The smile on his face finally makes
sense. "Are you drunk?"

"No." He glances at his watch. "Not yet. Oh, by the way..." He
fishes his car keys out of his coat pocket and tosses them into the
air towards her. "You're driving."

Scully catches them with her right hand and a look of anger.
"Mulder, you were supposed to be the designated driver and I was
supposed to be able to have a few drinks before going home."

"I can drive," Curt pipes in.

Scully leans over for a sniff and backs off. "Not likely."

"Sorry, Scully," Mulder drones. "I know this is your last day and
you deserve to have a few. Curt isn't going to tell anyone about
what I told him. Which wasn't even that much if you ask me."

Curt reaches over and grabs her hand. "Dana, don't get angry. He
just told me a few FBI stories. Some of the bad guys you caught.
That's all."

She looks between both men and wonders who is shoveling the
biggest load.

Then, she catches the aroma of a glass of red wine that a waiter is
taking to a customer. It's the smell she has been dreaming about all
day because she knew at the end of this day, there was a glass of
her favourite wine - a few actually - a Mulder and a final night in
that house.

"Mulder, do you have any more surprises for me? Besides telling
someone something you shouldn't have, and becoming drunk on
*my* last day of work."

Mulder catches Curt's eye as if to check if this is a trick question or
not.

Scully picks up her coat and heads towards the door. "If either of
you have to use the bathroom, make it quick."

"She's *pissed,*" Curt gulps.

"Disappointed," Mulder corrects. "I'm an asshole." Mulder finishes
the rest of his beer and digs through his pockets for cash. He slaps
two twenties on the counter. "You know, she once shot me in the
shoulder?"

Curt follows Mulder through the crowd towards the front door.
"No, but if you hum a few bars ..."

"Haha," Mulder says over his shoulder.

"Well, why did she shoot you?"

"Because of lame jokes like that."


It is a silent ride home. Curt sits in the back seat. He claimed that
he could probably drive but Scully's future plans include taking no
chances that will result in having to spend a second longer in this
town for any reason, including Curt's funeral, so she is driving him
home. She plans to stop at home so George Hale can go
outside;then, she will deliver Curt to his front door. By then Mulder
may have sobered up and he can tell her when it was he decided to
give their secrets away. She doesn't know why this angers her so
much but it does. Maybe it has to do with the Change Of Life they
are about to embark on. Moving homes and beginning new jobs -
two of the highest stresses. Given the rest of the items on the list, it
could be worse.

The only sound comes from the four tires, moving over the snow
covered roads at an easy, repetitive pace. From the back seat,
Curt asks a few questions about the car and its mileage and repair
history but otherwise, he is unusually silent. He keeps the news of
his twirling stomach to himself.

Scully is thinking of the best way to ask Mulder what the hell he
thought he was doing, and different ways to send the message that
she is truly, royally pissed.

"What the hell are we doing, Scully?"

She sighs tiredly. "We're driving home, what the hell do you think
we're doing?"

"No, not that." Mulder waves his arms in the air and finally points
one of them at the window. "There - out there. Why are we doing
this? Going back out there?"

He digs his knuckle into his right eyebrow; Scully knows instantly
that this isn't the beer talking.

"Mulder?"

He sits up and tries to pull his thoughts together. "I'm not drunk,
Scully. I'm as sober as a ... I'm just...." He shakes his head. "I don't
know, maybe I am drunk but ... what if we're making a huge
mistake? What if we don't fit in?"

Even Curt is paying attention.

For some reason, hearing him say these words aloud is reassuring.
Scully is not the only one who has been thinking this. "We're not
social pariahs, Mulder. We're people who have a history with this
city, with the FBI. Nobody defines us but us. Remember?" She
stretches her arm to the back of his neck and leaves her hand there
for a second, maybe two. Enough to bring him back from the dark
where his mind wandered way too far away again.

Curt watches them as if they we are a science experiment in its final
stages. The pieces he's been given one by one over the past year
now come into view as the whole of who these two are together.

No, he wouldn't have stood a chance in the bureau betting pools.


Curt is the first out of the car. He bounces up the front steps. "I
hate to impose but I *reeeaaaally* I need to use your facilities."

Scully tosses a set of keys over the car. Curt catches them and in a
moment the front door is open and they can hear Curt and George
Hale greet each other as their voices trail away in the direction of
the bathroom.

"I hope he's not sick," Mulder moans. His legs feel like jelly by the
time he steps onto firm, cold ground.

Scully keeps an eye on him to make sure he is mobile. She should
be the one teetering out of the car, fresh from a celebratory round
of drinks, ready to have a celebratory last evening in this house she
detests with the man she loves.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she remarks and wanders into the house.

She is upset. Mulder shouldn't have told Curt anything about them.
Mulder is anxious about the move, the job, she knows this - tonight
was the first time she has heard him say so - but dropping this little
bomb on her before they have even left does not help her growing
doubt.

She calls George Hale's name - twice - to tear himself away from
the bathroom door. Curt is Mulder's problem now.

And then she notices the living room. Only one lamp is on - the one
by the corner that throws a wave of soft light over the room. There
are roses on the table. Two wine glasses. She guesses that there
will be a bottle of her favourite wine chilling in the fridge. He has
done all of this for her.

And this only infuriates her more.

She can hear Mulder say her name but she ignores him as the dog
follows her out the front door and down the steps.

The moon is bright and quick tonight and she won't need a flashlight
to find any gifts from the dog she might step on. George Hale does
his usual pre-pee stroll. He's almost giddy tonight.

"Scully."

Damnit.

Mulder is behind her. She sees his hand reach out to take her arm,
but he pulls back. He knows when she is beyond touching.

"I didn't think." He tries to walk alongside her. She is so tired; tired
of him, tired of what he has just told Curt, as if it is nothing; as if
they kept their secrets for no reason at all. As if he shared
something that he had only shared with her.

"I'm sorry, Scully, I just - it just hit me in the bar - maybe it was the
beer, I can't be sure - but it just hit me that it seemed silly not to tell
someone about our past life. I'd never tell anybody about the last
two years. And it's okay now. We're okay now."

She whirls around. "When did *that* happen? When did we
become *'okay?'* Like *normal people?* When, Mulder, I'd
really like to know."

He steps back, surprised by her outburst. "I don't know. I don't
think we are like normal people. At least I hope not - Hey, Scully?"

She is crying quietly and she doesn`t know why. Maybe it's
because he has a kinder view of them than she does these days.

George Hale returns and drops a stick at her feet. He does his
usual crouch-tail wagging dance. Now she is smiling. And crying.

Mulder leans down and picks up the stick. "Worlds smartest dog,"
he says and hurls the stick deep into the dark woods. He turns
back to her. "You okay?"

She leans into his shoulder and both his arms go so tightly around
her. He has been like this more lately. They have both become
more protective of each other, if that is even possible.

"Maybe it's time to let go of some of the secrecy. I mean, in DC are
we going to keep it a big secret that we spent a year in *this*
place?"

This gets a smile out of her. "God, yes."

"Besides, we have bigger problems to worry about.``

"What?"

"I think the fan in our bathroom is busted."

"Shit."

Mulder shakes his head sadly. "That's what I'm afraid of."


Mulder is beyond exhausted, but at least he is sobering up. Curt is
lying on the couch. George Hale bounces into the house and lands
on his legs. Scully hands Curt the phone and tells him to call his
wife. She is too tired to drive the twenty minutes there and twenty
back that it will take.

George Hale will have the sleepover he has always wanted.

And Mulder and she will have the bedroom to themselves.

Curt is gone by eight-thirty the next morning. He is embarrassed to
wake up on their couch. When his wife comes to pick him up, he
tries to keep his dignity and his stomach intact. He shakes Mulder's
hand and thanks him for the hospitality and the company last night
and, with a slight wink, promises to keep things on the QT. Scully is
a tougher goodbye. He hugs her tightly and thanks her for being a
good friend at work and for bringing George Hale into his life. She
invites him to visit any time. He wonders if this is courtesy thing to
say or if she really means it. He hopes she means it.

But George Hale, he is the hardest good-bye. George Hale has
spent most of the night sleeping on Curt's legs, as if he knew a
goodbye was coming.

And then Curt is gone from their lives.

One friend down, one home to go.

At ten thirty, Mulder is the next to leave. He has loaded the pickup
with spare things he wants to hang onto a little longer. He is the
keeper of this family; the hoarder of things and memories unseen to
the naked eye.

He gives a look back at the house as he pulls onto the road. With a
wave to Scully, he drives out of sight.

They will meet up at the new house in a few hours. She will stop off
at Skinner's where her mother has made food to last her and
Mulder for a day or so until they do a grocery run.

Maggie Scully wants her daughter to see her life now; the
temporary home she shares with Walter Skinner until her own
home is ready. This is her life and she is proud of it.

Scully locks the door and looks down at the dog "You ready?"

He is sleeping on the top stair, stirring in his sleep. Her voice wakes
him and his sleepy eyes begin to open.

"No, oh, don't rush for my behalf." She drops the key into her
pocket.

Curt has promised to keep an eye on the house until they decide if
they are going to sell it or turn it into Mulder's personal vacation
oasis. Scully would still like to sell, but she is beginning to
understand why Mulder needs to hang onto some of their past year.
And George Hale will still need a place to run. They have spent so
much of the last year together, she is surprised she wants to keep
him close to home. Maybe it is just them, she wants to keep close.

"Let's go," she calls as she opens the front door to her car.

In a moment, the dog has hopped into the car and onto the back
seat.

Scully drives down the gravel road and when she gets to the main
road, she stops the car and walks around to where the fence used
to be. One of the posts has fallen and she leans over and pulls it up,
as if she wants it to be ready for the next fence it secures. One fast
jiggle confirms that it is tight and secure and standing proud.

And then she climbs back into the car and drives herself and
George Hale home.


The End