Xena lay on a hill gazing down at the farmhouse below as it's occupants
closed up for the night. There was something about observing the routine that
settled her even as it angered her. Not so long ago she and Della had followed
a similar pattern every night. Xena had gotten to the point of savouring every day in the company of
Della and the children. She was coming to the end of her customary fifteen year
stay. The people in this part of Spain were going to start questioning Xena's
lack of physical changes soon.
The death of Della's husband three years ago didn't help matters. The
Spanish woman had come to rely on Xena's help and companionship. It made for a
strong temptation to disregard her self-imposed time limit. Della was such a
steady, discreet soul that Xena was certain she would let the lack of change
pass without comment, or quietly accept it if Xena chose to give an
explanation.
The children were another potent incitement as well. Every one of them from
playful Migeal down to the round-faced twins adored their Aunta Xena.
"I miss those kids so much, beloved." Xena watched as shutters closed
imperfectly against the night. Light leaked, outlining the roughly shaped
windows. "I miss Della too... but to think of those bright, young lives snuffed
out."
First they lost the house. Xena had battled off the French patrol that
wanted to strip the family of their paltry wealth but the torches that the
disgruntled men had tossed as they fled were harder to deal with. Migeal had
salvaged the animals and what he could of the contents of the barn while his
mother and Xena dealt with the children and the house.
The loss was frustrating, but it was only 'things'. The family, the land,
and a shell to begin rebuilding about remained.
Time and the war saw to destroying that comfort soon enough.
Xena and Della returned sweaty and bedraggled from an afternoon in the
field. Help was in short supply lately around this area. Those few people who
hadn't fled the French invasion... or weren't fighting... had their own farms
to tend to. Della had been tempted to put her eldest to the task of gathering
the grain behind them but someone had to keep an eye on the little ones.
{What I wouldn't give for a soak in a tub of cool water, right now?} Della
sighed, laying her sickle down on the stack of tools by the scorched wall of
the barn. It wasn't nearly so satisfying to pour a half-bucket of water over
yourself as it was to soak, but time and water weren't things to be wasted
right now.
{A cold stream.} Xena countered with a tight smile. {Or a lake, since we're
dreaming.}
{And a bottle of good wine.} Della added, mopping her brow. {It seems I
can't get the taste of smoke out of my mouth lately.}
The two women exchanged a instantaneous look of panic then turned and ran
together. Xena's longer legs brought her to the scene quicker than Della.
Considering the smouldering state of the ruins, the attack must have come late
in the morning. The tent that Xena had constructed to shade the children from
the hot sun was mostly destroyed. Every animal in the place seemed to have been
taken. The place was in complete disarray.
Della's scream broke the still air. Xena dived into the faintly smoking
debris. Untidy bundles that could easily be mistaken for discarded blankets
were each carefully examined. Muskets had ended most of their short lives,
although a sword seemed the cause of one death. Only one bloodstained heap
still moaned with life.
{Della... find some water.} Xena ordered, rolling Migeal over and onto his
back.
The sobbing woman laid down the child she was clinging to and stumbled in
search of something Xena suspected she wouldn't find.
A gash on Migeal's head bled sluggishly. Xena lifted his lids to find them
unfocused. More blood stained the boy's shirt front and hands. The ancient
warrior gathered him up into her arms and stood. All the other bodies were
lifeless. This one she might be able to save, but not here, not in the midst of
this carnage that threatened to send her into a mindless rage.
Later they would come back to bury the children and pick through the
wreckage before leaving the farm entirely to join the
resistance. "It hurt to even look at Della after that day." Xena recalled. "I never want
to see such damage in a friend's eyes again There hadn't been much worth
stealing either, not nearly enough to justify killing the children. They
wouldn't have put up any kind of struggle. Of course, the partisans were
pleased enough with us joining up. Della had made a fearless fighter,
attempting to join her husband and the children in death without the stain of
suicide on her Catholic soul." The warrior shook her head. There had been no
reasoning with the woman. All of Xena's attempts to protect Migeal's mother
were useless. Della constantly threw herself to the forefront of every
conflict, courting disaster. "Gods, beloved. It was almost a relief when that
musket ended her life and I could concentrate my efforts on taking care of
Migeal." At least the boy had wanted to live through his mission of vengeance.
The light level in the small home dropped, suggesting that some of lamps had
been extinguished. The warrior had been considering sneaking down and leaving a
handful of coin in exchange for a bit of petty theft, but the idea sat sour in
her stomach. She just wasn't hungry any longer.
XENA (about Gabrielle): "When I look at you, I see the purest, the
kindest person I have ever known. Someone who's full of wonder and stories, and
would never give up on anything...or anyone."
It promised to be cooler than it was for the last few days so travelling
would be a little less uncomfortable. The late morning sun was bright and the
smell of new spring growth put a little more bounce into Gabrielle's walk. A
good dinner and sleeping in a comfortable bed had put her in a good mood that
the pleasant day was adding to. "You would have been proud of the way I handled
myself last night Xena. Your lessons seemed to have stuck with me and you
should have seen the look on that red coat's face." What was his name? Oh yes,
Mulder. "The look in his eyes when he saw me take out a man twice my size was
priceless." The bard realised he had a completely different look on his face
when she smiled at him as she left the room. From out of the dust ahead, a lone
rider was slowly making his way towards her. She knew that this time Mulder
would not be satisfied with just watching her from a distance and resigned
herself to the coming interrogation. "Well, it might be nice to talk to
someone. The silence is a little lonely."
Mulder dismounted and waited as the girl approached. He raised his eyes and
smiled.
"Good morning Miss."
Gabrielle returned his smile. "And a good morning to you as well, Lieutenant
Colonel William Mulder the third." She saw the man hesitate at her formal
address. "Oh he is going to be fun to tease."
"Um... ah." He stammered, then realised he had been rather ceremonious in
his introduction at the tavern. He relaxed and said, "My friends call me Fox. I
hope you will as well, Miss... "
"Gabrielle." She offered. "Just Gabrielle if you don't mind. So tell me, if
I call you Fox does that mean that I am one of your friends."
"Well, Gabrielle, after seeing you in action last evening I believe it would
be in my best interests to have you as a friend. You seem to be able to
discourage anyone from approaching who is less than friendly." Mulder replied
with a small grin.
"I believe the gentleman last night was trying to be friendly." Gabrielle
returned the grin. "Just a little too friendly for my taste. I did try to talk
him out of pursuing his interest but he didn't seem willing to listen."
"I can't fault his taste, only his methods." The officer fell into step
beside her. "Where did you learn how to handle yourself in a fight? I don't get
the impression it's a common skill in the women over here."
Gabrielle laughed. "I've been around. I've picked a few things up over the
years." She turned the interview around. "You said 'over here'. Where are you
from Fox?"
"Upper Canada." He considered a moment. "That's a British colony north of
America... across the ocean."
"That's a long way to travel to join a war." The bard observed. "I wouldn't
think you'd have much stake in an English-French conflict." She didn't comment
on his patronising explanation of Canada's location. Gabrielle wasn't ready to
argue with him yet.
"I suppose it depends on how you look at it." He ran the back of his sleeve
over his face, blotting up sweat. "We've a French colony right beside us...
Lower Canada. Not that I've ever had a problem with them personally, a lot of
my friends were French born. I think Skinner was... and JJ
an's family came from there."
"So why are you here, Fox?" Gabrielle used the name a bit like a pry-bar.
"For medals, glory, and Napoleon's hoard of gold?"
That got a bark of amusement out of him, causing his horse to toss its head.
"I just got this twisted vision of Bonaparte dressed as a leprechaun and
perched on a chest overflowing with treasure."
Gabrielle shot him a squinting look then broke into a peal of amusement as
well.
"You have the most beautiful laugh I've heard in months, Gabrielle." Mulder
informed her in a sincere tone. "I think I should like to hear it every day.
It's like sunshine... without the bloody oppressive heat." He mopped his face
again. "That didn't come out right. Sorry."
"Nice try though." She conceded.
"It's cooler back home." He shrugged. "And I'm not used to the uniform."
"You weren't a soldier in Canada?"
"Mercy, no." His golden brown head shook. "Father bought me this commission.
He said it was time I stopped running about the forest like a wild Indian and
acted my age."
Mulder's strides had lengthened slightly forcing Gabrielle to walk faster.
She noticed his expression had gone sullen. It appeared as if that was a sore
spot. "What were you?" The bard dropped back to her normal walking speed.
"Lots of stuff." Mulder had to stop when he started to answer, finally
realising the gap he had opened up between them. "Father had me hooked up with
an old colleague of his... for training but a friend convinced me to blow it
off. I tagged along with Skinner on a few trading runs out west. We did some
exploring for Hudson's Bay. I got into scouting for the army, skirmish work,
interpreting... to pacify my Father." He was watching his feet now rather than
Gabrielle, almost mumbling. "But I never actually signed up. I preferred the
terms of a loose affiliation. Army life is fairly... structured." His chin
lifted only as he spoke the last sentence. "Besides, Eyota and the braves were
better company."
"Eyota?" Gabrielle coaxed.
The smile was back on his face now. "A Mohawk Indian warrior." He hedged.
"You remind me of her. You have a vibrancy about you Gabrielle, a strong
spirit. It glows."
"Smoother" The bard commented silently. "You must miss her, your Indian
warrior. Are you going home to her when the campaign ends?" She asked him.
Fox shook his head. "I can't." The frown threatened once more. "I'm going to
Ireland eventually. Father has a... situation arranged for me. I doubt I'll
ever see home again."
"I'm told Ireland is beautiful country." She gave another gentle prod to
keep him talking.
"Tidy estates and Old World manners, Mother tells me." He scuffed the dust
under his feet. "But I've seen trees that touch the clouds and water that
rumbles so loud it's song makes your ears vibrate." He scanned his
surroundings, glancing only briefly at his companion.
The look of awe in his eyes was remarkably out of place with his still
features and low voice. The shuttered glow was a confidence, not to be shared
with a casual viewer.
"And the natives..." He continued. "... are immensely practical, honest
people. I got along with them better than I did with the folks in town." Fox
stalled out. He looked at the dust cloud ahead of them. An amused sniff of air
escaped him. "You're a clever one, Gabrielle. I came back to ask you why you're
following the wagon train."
"Did you really?" She offered up a look of innocence. "I was under the
impression you came back here to chat me up, Fox."
"Jeez, you're good." Her directness pushed him off balance.
"Why Ireland?" Gabrielle asked.
"Why are you following the caravan?" Mulder persisted.
Gabrielle laughed. "It just happens to be going in the right direction.
There's safety in numbers, you know. Why Ireland?"
"You do realise that we're headed towards the British forces, towards the
front lines." He obviously didn't want to answer the question.
All the more reason to persist. "What has been arranged in Ireland, Fox?
Your next posting?"
"Yeah... " He drawled. "That's as good a way to put it as any. My next
assignment." A bit of a sneer seasoned his voice. "Marry the Earl's heir,
establish a post, then await the arrival of the rest of the company."
"Ouch." Gabrielle flinched. The cynicism that emerged with that remark
completely obliterated the Fox she was just getting to know. The English
officer that had stared down his nose at her yesterday returned with a
vengeance. The transformation was eerie. "Okay. That's a touchy subject. Let it
go for now and try again later." "I'm looking for someone." Gabrielle
volunteered the information to coax Fox back out. "An old friend that I've lost
track of. Someone who's bound to be in the middle of the fighting."
Mulder blew out a deep breath, lifting the lock of hair hanging over his
forehead. "Then you're headed in the right direction. Is he an officer? I've
been briefed on most of the command staff." His shoulders were still tight but
the white marks on his fingers where he had twisted his reins too tight began
to fade. "I'm taking command of the South Essex."
That was a worthwhile boast. Gabrielle had heard mention of the company as
she passed through Spain. The South Essex had a hero in it's midst.
"Congratulations."
"That's Richard Sharpe's company. He's to be my Major." Fox checked casually
to see if she looked impressed. She didn't. "Who are you trying to find?" He
visibly loosened up. His shoulders rounded off and his loose gait gradually
returned.
"A partisan." Gabrielle definitely preferred this less pretentious version
of the man. "La Princesa Guerrera to be precise."
Mulder stopped, turning to gaze down at her in amusement. "You don't set
yourself an easy task do you? La Princesa Guerrera has most of the French army
attempting to kill her. She's not going to be lounging about in a tavern
waiting to be found."
"She's important to me. I need to find her." It was time to try again. He
was settled down once more. "Is your family all back in Canada?"
"For now, yeah."
"Won't it be hard not ever going back to see them." She mused, noting that
he hunched and his head dropped again at the mention of his family. It had to
be some kind of ingrained reaction. She could almost see him shoving his hands
in his pockets and squirming although he didn't actually do that.
"I don't really get along so good with Father." Fox finally admitted. "He's
got this idea in his head of what I'm supposed to be. Like I said, he bought
this commission. I'm his way into the aristocracy. He's got me betrothed to
some Irish Earl's oldest daughter so we pick up the title and all when the old
man dies. It's kind of mercenary, but it's not much better on their side. The
Earl wants Father's money. Then there's Sam... she's my baby sister,
Samantha... Father says it's all in Sam's best interest." He faded out. His
lips pressed tight together.
"Is she nice, the girl you're going to marry?" Gabrielle looked for a
positive aspect in the situation.
"Dana Scully." Mulder mumbled. "Sam's been trading letters with her. She
says Miss Scully is just perfect for me." His chuckle was jagged. "As if I
belonged with a proper little lady like that." Fox shot a look sideways. "I've
always preferred being with someone who could stand on their own two feet, who
could hold their own in a scrap. I need a woman like you... or Eyota... rather
than a fancy bit of parlour decoration."
Gabrielle pointed with her staff. "Your wagon train is slowing down by the
looks of things." This wasn't where she wanted the conversation to go.
No shouts of alarm suggested trouble but Mulder needed to check out the
unexpected reduction in speed. "Come up to the caravan with me. Why walk when
you can ride on a wagon?" Fox lifted his foot to the stirrup and jumped up into
his saddle. "Besides, if bandits attack I'd rather have you at my back than
that slug Hackett." His hand extended, offering to pull her up behind him.
Gabrielle considered briefly then accepted. Fox drew her up without any
effort.
"Hang on."
"Sneak." Gabrielle thought as he kicked his horse into a run, forcing her to
catch at his waist with the hand not griping her staff. "I owe you one for
this."
HAGMAN: "We stick together, you see. Ramona is part of us."
Ramona patted Dana's shoulder, attempting to soothe the upset girl. "I
know it's awful but I'm afraid it happens all the time." She said sadly.
"The idea that some... brute... was going through my things, touching all my
clothes." The Irish woman shivered. "And whatever reason would someone have to
steal my diary of all things?" Dana tied the flaps of William's tent closed
with a hard tug. "I'll not wear a stitch of it until I've a chance to wash
everything that thief pawed through."
"Don't you worry now. We'll get all your clothes washed up first thing in
the morning." Ramona gestured to the surrounding area. "No one's going to touch
your things ever again now they're in the Colonel's tent. The South Essex will
see to that." The Spanish woman's voice held more than a hint of pride. "And
it's not like the Colonel will be using his tent while he's out with Patrick.
You'll be much better off here with us, Miss Dana. This is where you should
have come right off."
"Just Dana, Ramona." The redhead insisted once again. "I can't have a friend
such as you've been to me calling me 'Miss' all the time."
The older woman smiled, reaching out to take Dana's hand. "Now you're all
settled in we can go over and see what the wagon train has brought in. The baby
should sleep for Maria and I'll not waste the free time we have on things we
can't change. Come along." Ramona pulled.
Dana couldn't stop the many thoughts pestering her mind right now but she
did try to push the worst of them off to one side and enjoy Ramona's company.
The coming night had brought a fresh westerly breeze, nothing but her diary had
been stolen, and if she didn't have William at least she had the security of
his quarters and rank. Ramona was right. Brooding would do no good right now.
As the women walked lamps were beginning to flare to life like miniature
stars in the distance. The unloading caravan was a blaze of torchlight and
activity amid the settling encampment.
Ramona angled for a point near the end of the wagon train where most of the
women seemed to be gathered.
{Ramona.} One of the camp women called out in Spanish. {Angela says they
brought some spices in. You should ask for some.} Patrick's position as Major
Sharpe's right hand man sometimes earned Ramona perks.
Dana looked over the small grouping as she was pulled closer. She couldn't
help but feel a bit out of place in her delicately embroidered, lace trimmed
dress. Dana had put the outfit on in hopes of impressing William but that was
before the sick baby, her night in Ramona's tent and the riffling of her
belongings. Not that she had many practical clothes with her in the first
place. She wished her Ma hadn't supervised her packing or she might have been
able to sneak in some of her working clothes. Dana brushed at her richly
coloured skirt and squeezed Ramona's hand quickly before releasing it. The
Spanish woman's presence shielded her from the distrust these women would
normally turn on any other officer's woman who intruded into their circle.
Dana noticed another woman within the pool of flickering light who seemed to
stand apart from the norm despite being in the centre of the activity. It might
have been the reddish blonde hair or that the girl wore pants amid the swirl of
dark Spanish women in peasant dresses. What caught Dana's attention the most
was the girl's confident stance and that she listened intently to those around
her with her whole posture and face, not just her ears.
Ramona had drawn near to the dust stained traveller so Dana took the
opportunity to follow her friend into the crowd. The newcomer was tossing
occasional questions out into the hum of women's' voices. Dana thought she
caught something about 'searching' but the smattering of Spanish she had picked
up en route to William wasn't up to the task of understanding the quick give
and take.
When the words 'La Princesa Guerrera' came out of the smiling blonde both
Ramona and Dana took notice.
{She's a very famous partisan.} Ramona commented.
Gabrielle turned with a grin towards the dark eyed woman who had come up on
her left side. {Do you know of the Warrior Princess?}
{Yes, most of the soldiers' women have, I should think.}
{Ramona knows more than most actual soldiers.} Another woman teased. {I
think her Patrick must talk in his sleep.}
Gabrielle laughed along with the rest of the women, waiting to hear more.
{I'd like to be there to find out if her Patrick's Major talks in his
sleep.} A young, snugly outfitted girl cooed. {He's a handsome rascal.}
{I'll try and remember to tell Major Sharpe you think so Angela. I'm sure
he'll want to thank you personally for such a compliment.} Ramona taunted with
a gentle smile, causing a few exclamations all around.
{You do just that, Ramona.} Angela tossed her long hair back confidently.
{Major Sharpe's been alone since his Teresa died. I should think he's about
ready for a new woman in his tent.}
Ramona let out a gusty laugh. {Oh really girl! How alone do you think our
fine Major's been? Open your eyes and look at him.}
Gabrielle grinned as a connection clicked into place. {Teresa?} She cut in.
{Do you mean 'the needle'? I've heard she trained under the Warrior Princess.}
Ramona's good humour dropped a notch. She frowned at the newcomer. {Why are
you so interested in the Warrior Princess?}
The blonde head tilted slightly to one side. {I'm a storyteller.} She
announced to the crowd of women. {Would you like to hear a tale?} Her eyes
sparkled.
The offer drew an enthusiastic chorus of agreement from all around.
"She's a storyteller." Ramona drew Dana closer to her side, whispering.
A delighted smile was on the bard's face as she began to weave a tale in
flowing, liquid Spanish.
"She's talking about a village... early in the war... " Ramona translated
for her Irish friend. "La Princesa Guerrera and a small band... they held the
French back with nothing but rocks and her steel." She murmured right by Dana's
ear so as not to disturb the woman's art. "She tells it better than my
translation." Ramona added as an aside.
Gabrielle's hands and body emphasised the highlights.
"The people of the village escaped with all they could carry." Ramona's
forehead creased slightly. The bard told the story in such fine detail with
brief insights that seemed to make it feel personal. "The partisans faded back
into the hills and all the French got were empty buildings." Ramona concluded
over the shouts of pleasure the other women showered the storyteller with.
Gabrielle settled back with a pleased smile, attempting to catch the eye of
the woman whose challenge had brought the story out.
{The way you tell it... } Ramona was the one to close the distance. {You
sound as if you were there.}
{I wasn't, not exactly, but I got the details straight from Xena.}
Ramona stiffened in surprise. {You know her.} She stated. {Not many know the
Warrior Princess' real name.} The Spanish woman confirmed.
{You do.}
{Only through Teresa's stories.} Ramona corrected. {She would talk
sometimes, around the Major's campfire.}
{Major Sharpe.} Gabrielle prompted, trying to draw the other woman out.
Ramona was obviously not a common camp follower considering the way the others
treated her and the English-speaking redhead she had in tow.
{My Patrick is Major Sharpe's man. My Patrick minds the Major's back.}
{I'd like to meet the Major. Xena has mentioned him.} Gabrielle took a
chance. {Xena and I lost touch some time ago.} She edged over to one side
casually, drawing Ramona and the Lady along. A little privacy was just the
thing. {I'm trying to find her again. Needless to say she doesn't make it easy
for anyone to track her down.}
Ramona hesitated, trying to decide if she could trust her instincts about
this newcomer. Her insides had never guided her wrong before. {Patrick, the
Major... some of the men, oh, and Colonel Mulder... they went looking for the
Warrior Princess. They left this morning.}
Gabrielle's initial delight at the disclosure snagged on a name. {Colonel
Mulder?}
Dana had caught the first reference to her fiancee and listened to the
words, trying to understand. Hearing his name repeated by the storyteller
brought her up on her toes.
{I came in with a Lieutenant Colonel William Mulder.} Gabrielle glanced
absently in the direction Fox had disappeared. {That's an odd coincidence.}
{No. No. No.} Ramona's had shook. {That's the name of Patrick's new Colonel.
He's been in camp for days. He left this morning with the riflemen.}
Dana was tugging at Ramona's sleeve.
Gabrielle shook her head. {William Mulder was escorting this wagon train
in.} She gestured. {I first met him a few of days ago. We've been travelling
together since the day after I first saw him. William and I have shared a
campfire each night. He's from Canada and he's got some stories I've never... }
"Ramona!" Dana almost shouted to get attention. "What's all this about
William? What are you talking about?" She looked from her friend to the blonde
and back again. "Does she know my fiancee?"
Ramona's right hand bunched into the fabric of her long skirt. "The
storyteller has heard of the Colonel, Dana." She twisted the truth, not really
wanting to upset the girl even more this evening. "I was telling her that he's
Patrick's new commander. That's all."
Gabrielle looked closer at the red haired girl. This was Fox's fiancee then.
She couldn't let Ramona's mangled version of her words stand, not considering
the odd clashing of facts and Miss Scully's stake in the matter. "No." The bard
switched to English for the first time since speaking to the women. "There was
a Colonel Mulder travelling with this caravan. I met up with Fox on the road
some ways back and he invited me to travel along with them. He's been with us.
He didn't ride ahead."
Ramona shook her head in confusion. "But, that can't be right. Colonel
Mulder left with Patrick."
"Fox." Dana Scully bit down on one of her thumbnails. His sister seldom
called him Fox. However, Samantha had said his friends and the Rangers he
worked with, all used that nickname. "So, William just got here then?"
Gabrielle nodded. "He's about this tall." She held her hand about seven
inches above her head. "Earth brown hair... sort of bluish eyes. He has an odd
accent, a bit on the nasal side. He's been telling me about Indians, his sister
Sam, and how he's got an Irish bride he's never met waiting here in camp."
Gabrielle paused. "That would be you. Dana Scully, right?"
"That's my William, Ramona. I'm sure of it. No one but William calls
Samantha that, she told me that in one of her letters." Dana said firmly,
catching and squeezing her friend's wrist in emphasis.
Ramona grimaced. The Colonel she had seen in and about the site before Dana
had arrived had almost black hair and Patrick had remarked on the man's
shifting eyes, saying they were a venomous green, like a snake. "But then... "
She fought down panic. "But if Colonel Mulder just came in who's with Patrick
and the Major. This is bad... very bad."
"I don't know what's going on." Dana's temper and the frustration of the
last two days stiffened her back. She'd had just about enough of trying to be
the proper lady Da had told her William was expecting. "But by the hills, I'm
going to find out. Where did William go?" She demanded of Gabrielle.
"To report in."
"If you'll excuse me then." Dana's chin lifted. "I'm to see Lord
Wellington."
"You do just that." Ramona encouraged, pleasantly surprised by the spark in
her friend's eyes.
"I'll be to the tents as soon as I've some satisfaction." Dana's accent had
thickened. She turned and walked confidently towards the centre of the camp.
"Come with me, storyteller. I know a thing or two about the Warrior Princess
that you might like to know." Ramona offered.
"Gabrielle. My name is Gabrielle."
HOGAN: "Stick with me Richard. I'll see you right."
SHARPE: "You'll see me dead, Sir."
HOGAN: "That's my boy."
A light scratching at the material of the tent preceded the
interruption. Arthur Wellesley, Lord of Wellington and his first advisor, Hogan
looked up from the documents scattered across the desktop. Wellington's
assistant slipped into the tent, wincing at the sudden change in light and the
intense gaze of the two senior officers.
"There seems to be a bit of a problem, Milord... Sir... that needs sorting
out." The young man said hesitantly.
Wellington rose to his feet. "What's the problem. Spit it out already, lad."
He ordered as his junior officer squirmed under the attention, looking more
uncomfortable than Wellesley had ever seen him act before.
"Well Milord, Sir... There's a Lieutenant Colonel William Mulder outside. He
came in with the new caravan from Madrid just now and he's demanding to see
you, Milord." The Lieutenant grimaced. "A completely different sort of Colonel
Mulder, Milord." He clarified unnecessarily.
The two senior officers were silent a moment then Hogan let out a gust of
laughter. "That would explain a few things, wouldn't it? I think that perhaps
we should have a look at the new Colonel. Don't you, Milord?"
"Quite." Wellington pressed the bridge of his nose to soothe the sudden
headache that was threatening to erupt. "Bloody hell." He swore softly. "Have
Colonel Mulder brought in immediately."
"Yes Milord." The youth disappeared.
"It's part of your job to keep things like this from happening, Michael."
Wellington complained snappishly.
"Not to worry. Not to worry. This may well turn out to be a blessing in
disguise." Hogan pacified. "If you would, please, follow my lead on handling
this one."
An armed guard entered at the side of a red-coated Colonel. This Mulder
looked to be a few years older than the last. Hogan had been a bit surprised by
how youthful the first man had looked, but he dismissed it with the reasoning
that everyone's face aged differently. The new officer's hair was a shade
lighter and the man's features were much more sharply cut that the previous
Colonel Mulder.
"Lord Wellington." Mulder did a quick survey of Hogan. "Colonel." He
concluded at once. "I am William Mulder from Upper Canada. There seems to have
been a serious misunderstanding." He planted himself solidly in front of the
Commander of the army. "I have a note from General Sanchez of Madrid,
explaining my difficulties and the reason I no longer carry my original
orders." Fox announced. "I was robbed while in that city and it appears as if
the thief has used those stolen papers and my uniform to impersonate me."
"Really?" Hogan commented blandly. "And how are we to know that you are the
real Colonel Mulder?"
Fox's eyes darkened and he looked almost annoyed with the older man. "I
could tell you I was born in Maine and my mother's maiden name was Kuipers. I
could elaborate on my Canadian Commander's habit of pouring apple sauce over
absolutely everything he ate including his meat and potatoes... " His voice
took on a deeply pitched monotone. "Or if you bring me that son of a bitch
who's pretending to be me I will gladly do a demonstration of the Indian
technique of removing a man's scalp while still leaving him alive to confess
his crimes and betray his mission. But it all comes down to the fact I'm Fox
Mulder because I say I am, God damn it!" Mulder's posture didn't change, only
the blazing in his eyes betrayed the level of anger he felt at the constant
challenge he had been receiving to his identity since arriving in Wellington's
camp. "And if that's not good enough I'll quite happily turn around and go as
soon as I can find something to wear besides this 'shoot me, I'm a bloody
target' uniform."
"Colonel Mulder!" Wellington warned. "Remember your place."
"My apologies Milord... I am sorry. It's been a very bad week." William
damped down on the anger that threatened to choke him, recalling who he spoke
to.
Hogan's lips quirked once then a thick chuckle of amusement escaped him.
"I'm inclined not to care which is the real one. I'd rather have this man on
our side than that twitchy young kiss-ass any day."
"Milord Wellington." Came the newest interruption from the doorway. "There's
a Miss Scully demanding to see you, my Lord. She insists that it's quite
urgent."
"Not now Smithers." Wellington waved the teenager off. "I'm busy."
"Excuse me Milord." Hogan forestalled the dismissal. "Did you say Miss
Scully, lad?"
"My fiancee." Mulder cut in. "That's my fiancee's name."
The spymaster nodded, recalling something he had picked up. "I knew the Earl
of Thistlemoor back in my younger days. You may have met Wallace Scully
yourself, Milord. His daughter is here to marry Colonel Mulder. She arrived
early yesterday morning with that supply train Sharpe brought in."
"Oh yes... " Wellington's mouth curved slightly. "I've had an occasional
encounter with Thistlemoor." Most of which involved taking the Earl's money.
Wallace Scully was known for carelessly considered gambles. "Well, let's have
Thistlemoor's daughter brought in. The young lady should be able to settle the
question of the Colonel's identity."
Dana entered in a fit of fire but upon seeing the Lord Wellington and
realising the officer to the left was her intended husband she forced herself
to calm down. The future of her family's holdings rested on making this
marriage. "Milord." Dana curtsied.
"Miss Scully." Hogan took the lead. "We have a slight situation on our
hands. Would you be so kind as to verify whether this man is William Mulder."
He pointed.
Dana shifted her gaze to look full on the man she was going to marry for the
first time. Samantha hadn't exaggerated, William really was an extremely
handsome man. "I would like to help, Milord, but I've never actually met
William before."
"So I've heard." Hogan confirmed. "But a few questions should solve the
mystery. You must have been told some things about your intended... or perhaps
exchanged gifts."
Dana nodded. "Samantha passed along this round, hanging thing that William
made. It's very beautiful. It has feathers... " Her voice was almost reverent.
Hogan raised his hand, silencing Dana. "Tell us about it Colonel Mulder."
Fox studied his future bride, surprised that she seemed so pleased with
something he had tossed together while wedged in a tree waiting for action.
"It's called a dream-catcher." He clarified. "It's a long willow switch bent
into a hoop... with beads suspended by thread... woven inside the circle. The
feathers hanging off it are from the owl's nest I was sitting in. Frohike, one
of the coureur du bois taught me how to make them."
They all turned to Dana, who nodded.
Wellington and Hogan exchanged a long look. Hogan frowned. "That's
settled... but this means the Colonel Mulder who set out with Sharpe is a spy."
Hogan's thoughts were racing, considering what information the false Mulder
could have had access to and how to use the situation to their advantage.
"You sent him on a mission." Fox reasoned out in a crisp tone. "Point me in
the right direction, Milord, and I'll bring you back his head."
Wellington sat down, folding his hands on the desktop. This man was
definitely closer to what they had expected to receive... an ill-mannered,
colonial woodsman. Major Sharpe was definitely going to prefer this Colonel.
"No. I don't think the Colonel should, my Lord." Hogan finally stated,
shooting an overtone-laden stare at Wellington. He turned back to Mulder. "You
don't know the territory and we can't afford another troop to escort you.
They're tracking down 'La Princesa Guerrera', a partisan. They'll be too hard
to find by now. Not to worry though, I'm quite certain Major Sharpe will
uncover and deal with the traitor in his own fashion."
Wellington covered his surprise at Hogan's recommendation with a thoughtful
pause.
"But Milord Wellington... " Fox stared in disbelief.
"I have to agree with Colonel Hogan in this case, Colonel Mulder."
Wellington put his trust in his spymaster's mind.
"Miss Scully." Hogan said firmly. "Allow me to walk with you." He stepped
forward. "We will take the Colonel over to the South Essex's site, Milord.
That's where the other Mulder has placed the Colonel's gear, is it not Miss
Scully?"
"Yes Sir." She agreed. "That man... he left some things in his... I mean
William's... tent."
"Alex Krycek." Fox interrupted. "He told me his name was Alex Krycek." He
didn't really want to admit that the theft had been considerably more personal
than a whack on the head in a dark alley, but the name might prove to be
important some time in the future.
Hogan paused at the unfamiliar name, none of his informants had ever made
any references to a Krycek. The spymaster prided himself on his awareness of
French agents, and this one had taken him totally by surprise. Ducos must have
sent some one brand new against them. That would explain why the man's face
hadn't set any alarm bells off in Hogan's head. Considering the Russian flavour
of the name, he suspected the young man had been recruited from the eastern
front of Napoleon's war. "Shall we go Colonel Mulder?"
"But... "
"The decision has been made. I don't suggest you press me any further on
this matter." Wellington flicked his hand, dismissing Hogan, Miss Scully and
Mulder.
"Come with me, Colonel." Hogan led the way.
Fox swallowed his complaints, forcing his expression to one of bland
acceptance. He'd had plenty of practice at hiding his hostility from his father
back home. "As you wish, my Lord." Mulder followed Hogan and his fiancee out of
the tent
SHARPE: "It doesn't make sense."
HARPER: "Not everything in this world has to make sense."
Harper was away from Sharpe's side for the first time that day. The big
man was rolled up in a blanket, snoring softly. He, Harris and Cooper were
already asleep in expectation of their turn at watch. Hagman and Perkins ranged
about the camp keeping an eye on their surroundings.
Sharpe had ghosted around the edges of their small encampment himself until
the Colonel had settled down beside the fire. Richard wanted to keep his
distance from Mulder after the other man's disturbing behaviour this morning.
When he was finally confident that the Colonel was enthralled in the small
burgundy book he held Sharpe settled down on a flat rock near where Harper was
lying.
It may have been a bit cowardly but Sharpe had kept Harper near at hand all
day long on purpose. It seemed that wherever Harper was, Mulder made an effort
to be elsewhere. The Colonel had stayed mounted on his horse while on the road.
Mulder hadn't attempted to enter any of the places when Sharpe had stopped to
question the locals. The man chose instead to lean over and talk to Harris
about all sorts of book learned nonsense that had Perkins wincing and rolling
his eyes. All in all it was odd behaviour for someone of Mulder's history, but
on the positive side, Harris hadn't been happier in weeks. The former teacher
didn't meet many common soldiers with his level of education and the officers
weren't usually inclined to talk to the like of Harris. Richard decided that
Mulder seemed to be trying his very best but it was falling short. Patrick had
spent the time he wasn't tormenting Sharpe about the morning's flirtation
grumbling that to track Mulder needed to be a damned sight closer to the
ground. Richard had been put in the uncomfortable situation of having to defend
Mulder's behaviour to Pat when he didn't much like it himself.
The mission looked a lot more difficult than it had this morning too. When
he wasn't asking the locals about the Warrior Princess, Sharpe was trying to
sift through his own memory for clues. Teresa's descriptions of Xena just
weren't matching up to the shadow 'La Princesa Guerrera' was currently casting.
Of course most of the hack and slash rumours Sharpe had heard came from the
camp or captured French soldiers, not the locals, who seemed to adore the
Warrior Princess.
Teresa had spoken of a cool-headed, perfectly trained warrior. Xena had a
sparse network of friends that she was fiercely protective of and usually in
close contact with, none of which Richard could get a lead on today. Teresa had
been intensely proud that the warrior had considered her a friend. Of course
the word 'pride' was forever entangled with Teresa's image in his mind.
A piece of damp wood in the fire popped, making an almost shot-like noise in
the night's silence.
Sharpe had to swallow a laugh at Mulder's gasp of surprise and the way he
dropped his book. That spark of enjoyment vanished quickly as Richard found his
eyes meeting the other man's above the tiny blaze.
The Colonel made a faint throat clearing noise then began. "Richard, I... "
Sharpe stood abruptly, catching up the blanket roll at his feet. "I'm
exhausted." He undid the strapping around it and made a careful show of laying
his blanket right beside Patrick. "Goodnight Sir." Sharpe laid down, twisting
to put his back to the fire and his commanding officer.
He wasn't exactly sleepy but Richard wanted to think, not deal with Mulder.
Over the years he had perfected the semblance of being asleep when he wasn't.
It was a useful skill to allow yourself and those around you a bit of privacy.
In the workhouse it gave the boy in the next bed a chance to cry into his
pallet with less shame. In the lower ranks of the army, when the man beside you
might die in the morning, there were prayers and self-gratification that needed
ignoring. Lately feigned sleep was something to give an enemy a false sense of
security.
Richard replayed the day inside his mind as he lay in the darkness. The
baker Sharpe had spoken to last had heard that the Warrior Princess was killed
about two or three months ago. The man had been delighted to discover his
mistake a week ago when his sister had come with news that Xena had halted a
looting near their home village. That information had Sharpe turning the men in
a more Easterly direction. They were in for another long walk tomorrow.
At times, mostly when he was hot or his legs were tired Richard envied
officers on horseback. The increased speed and few extra feet in height were
almost requisite at the beginning of a battle. Still, after all his years
slogging it out down with ordinary men the few times he did borrow a horse it
had felt decidedly odd.
A snippet of part of his training speech came back to him at that moment
bringing a smile with it. When attacking, the wise move is always to kill the
officers first if you can and throw the ranks into chaos. Maybe some French
patrol would do them the favour of an ambush. It was fairly obvious to a casual
viewer which man made the best target in this group and he was certain all his
men would keep wits enough about them to escape.
Wouldn't that solve all his problems in a quick toss of fate's dice? A laugh
tickled Sharpe's throat but he had warning enough to turn it into a cough.
On the far side of the fire Aleksandr looked up at the slightly choked off
noise. His eyes were tired from the glaring sun of the past day and the small
handwriting in the book he held was making it worse. At least Mulder's fiancee
had tidy penmanship. It reminded him of his father's handwriting in the family
bible.
Aleksandr had skimmed the newest entries first. He read of long, boring
carriage rides, frustration at the language barrier, and a few girlishly
embarrassing speculations on William Mulder and what it would be like to be
married to him. Only the fear of drawing attention to himself halted Alek's
impulse to slam the small volume against his own forehead when the full import
of Miss Scully's careful writing penetrated. The girl had never laid eyes on
William in her life. He had spent an agitated day and one very long night
agonising over a discovery that the girl was in no position to make. It was a
small mercy he hadn't gone through with his plan to slit the girl's throat in
order to squeeze another day or two out of his situation. Best he got out of
that place when he did. Aleksandr had enough information cached in his brain to
keep Ducos happy with him for a while. He had a perfect escort into French
territory. As an added bonus Harris was fine company and Sharpe made for nice
scenery. If only he could think of a vaguely plausible reason to dispatch that
beastly Sergeant Harper back to camp then the next few days would be perfect.
Alek considered tossing Miss Scully's diary into the coals but if it didn't
burn thoroughly... that would raise questions. Besides which, he liked reading
the thing. It was a welcome escape from the complications that his real life
had in abundance. Aleksandr tucked the diary back into his jacket, set out his
own bedroll and lay down to rest his burning eyes picturing how much different
things would have been if he was a member of the placid Scully clan instead of
who he really was.
KRYCEK: "Then you've got no choice but to deal with me."
Ramona and Gabrielle heard them coming before they saw Dana and the two
officers.
Mulder was attempting to explain what had happened in Madrid. "... that's
all I can remember, Sir. I think there was something in the wine I was
drinking." Fox's face burned at having to recount how he had lost his
possessions to the spy. Luckily the darkness hid the visible signs of his
embarrassment so his carefully edited version of the encounter seemed to be
holding up.
Hogan murmured some non-committal noise.
"I realise that drinking with a complete stranger seems somewhat... beneath
the dignity of a British officer and I do regret it, Sir." Guilt was pushing
him to say more than he wanted to. "I'm afraid I'm still new to the rank. As a
Ranger no one much cared how I behaved." Mulder explained. "I will attempt to
adjust quickly Sir."
"That will do, Colonel Mulder." Hogan took pity on the younger man. It was a
trifle cruel to interrogate Mulder about the incident in front of his fiancee.
The man's flawed story was most likely tailored to cover up the mention that
there were tavern whores involved. On one hand it was a terrible pity, Hogan
thought. Mulder wasn't anywhere near the adept liar that Krycek had proven. The
Colonel had to envy Ducos that kind of operative. It boggled the spymaster that
Krycek had put in four days hanging around Wellington's tent with no one the
wiser. Hogan shook his head. He'd been spending too much time in the company of
officers instead of the field. Luckily Sharpe didn't have that handicap. The
Major likely suspected something was wrong with his new Colonel already. Sharpe
and Harper had seemed a bit off this morning before leaving camp.
"I've put my belongings in William's tent." Dana spoke into the silence that
had descended when they reached the South Essex's site. She extricated herself
from the arm of the vaguely familiar Irish Colonel. "Someone went through my
things where I was before." She explained. "My diary was stolen." Dana felt the
rush of defilement again. She looked to William for support only to notice that
his attention had drifted to where Ramona and the Storyteller sat. "What kind
of cad would steal a woman's diary?" Her voice challenged.
William seemed oblivious to her distress. However, Colonel Hogan did reach
out to pat her shoulder.
Dana blushed. "Anyway, Ramona suggested that I move in over here while
William was gone." The light of the nearest campfire was enough to illuminate
her fiancee's face. He had dismissed her from his attention in favour of gazing
at the blonde bard. A smile was tugging at the corners of his heavy lips. "Too
many people were always about the kitchens. Ramona thought I would be safer
over here." Dana finished lamely. At least Colonel Hogan was still listening to
her.
"The kitchens?" Hogan questioned. "I saw the spy, Krycek, over there near on
midnight yesterday. He was carrying a burgundy bound book. I didn't think much
of it at the time, but... "
"My diary." Dana exclaimed. "That scoundrel was the one in my tent."
At the raising of her voice Mulder glanced briefly at his fiancee but she
was merely yelping about trivialities. The firelight burnishing Gabrielle's
beautiful face was a much more fascinating view.
"I suppose it's a good thing you didn't go home last night, child. He may
have intended you harm." Hogan reasoned out. "You could have exposed him."
Ramona couldn't hold back any longer. She crossed the space between them
with quick, angry steps. "SÂ
nor Hogan!" Ramona never did like the way this crafty officer was constantly
using Major Sharpe as some kind of game piece. "You'd better tell me what's
going on! Who's that man out with my Patrick and the men? If my Patrick's in
trouble... " She let the threat hang.
"Dear, dear Ramona. Calm yerself." Hogan turned from Dana to soothe the
furious Spanish woman. "As if one man could prove a harm to your strong Patrick
and clever Major Sharpe. Really."
"I should go after them, Sir." Mulder tried one last time for official
approval. "They need to be warned that Krycek is a spy."
"Doma arriba!" Ramona let out a shout of anger and swatted Hogan's consoling
hand away. "A spy? You sent my poor Patrick out with a spy at his back?"
"Colonel Mulder." Hogan snapped, annoyed now. "Lord Wellington made his
position quite clear. We've no one to spare to take you out. A major offensive
is imminent. We are barely able to spare Sharpe and his lot on this bit of
northern foolishness." He gave Mulder a direction. "If 'la Princesa Guerrera'
wasn't so enthusiastic in her attacks we most likely would have ignored her
like the rest of the partisans."
Dana couldn't help but see the intense look William traded with the
Storyteller at that moment. Both sets of eyes were flashing dangerously.
"You will stay here on site and keep out of trouble until Sharpe returns."
The spymaster took careful note of the raging insubordination that was creeping
across Mulder's face, but he made no mention of it.
"I understand perfectly, Sir." Fox nearly hissed. His hands were fisted at
his sides.
Hogan almost smiled but that would spoil the game. The Colonel would be on
his way by dawn at the latest or Hogan knew nothing about human nature. If
Mulder pulled this off Wellington could be assured that this man was up to the
job they had tentatively planned for the Canadian. If he didn't, Wellington had
full deniability and a good excuse to rid himself of a less than useful Ranger.
" SÂ
nor Hogan!" Ramona shrilled. "Aren't you going to do anything?" She demanded.
"Patrick's a fine strapping man, Ramona. He can handle one little rat like
that." Colonel Hogan inclined his head to Dana. "Goodnight Miss Scully. Perhaps
over the next few days there will be better opportunities to chat. I've a story
or two about your Da's younger days that might take away that sorrowful look
you're wearing right now. Goodnight Ramona, Colonel Mulder." Hogan strode off
with a pleased smirk on his face.
"If that don't beat all." Ramona glared after the retreating officer. "What
exactly is going on Miss Dana?"
The Irish woman's eyes were on William as he stared over at the blonde,
Gabrielle, who offered up a friendly smile in return. "The man who went out
with the mission is an impostor." She began in an absent tone. How dare William
so obviously admire another right in front of her? The least he could do was
make some attempt at discretion. "This Krycek person robbed William in Madrid
and took his papers... " Her recitation was flat. God damn it, but it was hard
to keep up at playing the proper Lady when all she wanted to do was pop the
smiling blonde on the chin. "... and everything. Mr Hogan seems to think he's a
French spy." Ma never warned her it was this hard to act like a Lady. Mind, Ma
didn't have Dana's temper-torn nature to contend with. "I don't understand why
they aren't chasing him down." Good, William was going into his tent. That made
it easier to actually pay attention to Ramona. "Maybe he didn't steal any
useful information." Dana guessed. "But it does appear he was the one who
ransacked my tent and stole my diary."
"Mia Madre!" Ramona absorbed it all. "And that one? Is he your real
William?"
Dana nodded.
From inside the Colonel's tent came the sounds of fabric hitting the walls
and buckles being fumbled with. Mulder had left the flaps slightly open to
admit some light. The break in the door provided Dana with intriguing flashes
of movement.
'It appears as if your things are suffering even further indignities."
Gabrielle commented from her place near the fire. "He seems to be in quite the
froth."
Dana's lip curled slightly. She had no desire to hear the Bard's opinion.
"He wants to track down Major Sharpe and the men but Lord Wellington had forbid
him leave to go." Dana explained to Ramona then turned. She squared her
shoulders and walked over to William's tent. A quick tug pulled the right flap
all the way open.
William's uniform was crumpled on the ground at his feet. Several weapons
were carefully laid out on the cot. He was half-dressed in some kind of leather
or buckskin pants of a dark, shadowy colour.
"You're packing." Dana observed coolly, despite the distracting expanse of
skin he was unconsciously displaying.
He shrugged into a grey looking shirt.
"You're going after them." She accused, angry at the way he was ignoring
her. "That's desertion. I could report you."
Mulder fished a vest out of the mess of clothes strewn about and began
lacing it up. Krycek had left all of Fox's Ranger gear behind. "You can't marry
a dead man for his money Miss Scully. You don't want them to hang me."
Dana ground her teeth. So that's what he thought of her. Damn Da, and his
careless ways. This arrangement kept growing more difficult every moment. "Take
me with you and I won't be able to report you." She just needed some of his
time to really talk to him.
Fox looked up briefly but didn't respond. He bent to gather up and strap on
weapons and an ammunition belt. The sword he had got in Madrid from General
Sanchez hooked onto his belt.
"I need to go with you."
"Listen, I appreciate your help earlier and I'll bring back your precious
diary if I can." His tone grew condescending. "But this isn't the kind of trip
I can take someone like you on, little girl."
Dana Scully's arm pulled back of it's own will but she tightened her
self-control and didn't swing. She internally cursed her father's vices once
more for putting her in the situation of needing this arrogant son of bitch and
his father's money. Dana cursed Samantha for describing her brother as a much
better man than this. But mostly she cursed herself for having the idiocy to
half fall in love with a man who she only knew through someone else's
perceptions.
Fox let out a puff of laughter at her frustrated fury and pushed past
carrying a small pack and his uniform jacket. The wretched red monstrosity
would get him out of camp if nothing else. The pickets weren't like to
challenge his Colonel's insignias. He walked across the site to Gabrielle. "The
spy is on a mission... chasing down the Warrior Princess." He told his new
friend. "They've got a day's lead on us but I think we can catch them."
Behind him Dana's anger mounted to absolute rage.
"I need your help, Gabrielle, please. If you can talk to the locals... " Fox
explained. "... get us into the general vicinity, then I'm positive I can track
them down. My broken Spanish isn't up to this, and you know the lay of the land
hereabouts better than me." He was trying to learn the language but that took
time, and time wasn't something he had to spare.
Dana Scully stomped up behind her intended husband and swatted him hard on
the shoulder, making her palm sting. It did turn him around though. "How can
you discard me, your bloody wife to be, then have the stones to invite her
along on your little escapade." Her full Irish accent overtook the words,
dropping her 'H's and hardening the vowels. "I'll not be standing for it."
Gabrielle looked past Fox to take in the indignation on the red-haired
girl's face.
"The two of you will not be leaving me behind William Mulder. I've had a
belly full of being ignored and dismissed. No more." Dana glared jealously at
the Storyteller. What did that one have that she herself didn't? "You're going
to take me with you. I'm sure I can be useful."
"Fox." Gabrielle interrupted. "I think you should bring her." The girl was
covering the desperation with anger but Gabrielle could see how badly Dana
wanted to be with Fox. She recalled that burning need from ever so long ago
when she had first pleaded with Xena.
Gabrielle had knelt before the low bench. The feel of Xena's armour was
unfamiliar in her hands. "Xena, you've got to take me with you. Teach me
everything you know." Gazing up into those pale blue eyes. "You can't leave me
here in Potadeia. I want to go with you." Gabrielle had tried so hard to
convince the Warrior. "I've studied the stars, spoken with philosophers and I
have the gift of prophecy. I can be very valuable. Take me with you. I want so
much to be like you." Gabrielle shook off the memory. Dana was staring at her in shock. Just a
hint of gratitude was creeping onto that freckled face.
Mulder, however, was still in full scowl. He had been looking forward to
more travelling on the road with Gabrielle, this time without a whole caravan
of people breathing down their necks. "She'll just be in the way."
"You don't know anything about me. You don't have any idea what I'm capable
of. You're supposed to be an officer and a gentlemen. Why don't you try acting
like one instead of tossing this colonial back-woods attitude at me?" Dana
changed her tactics. "Ramona." She called the older woman over to her side. "Do
you think that you and the South Essex could cover up Colonel Mulder's absence
from camp while we go and warn Patrick?"
"Si. For you Miss Dana... " Ramona grinned. "Anything."
"You see what I can do, William?" Dana asserted. "At my word you can go from
being a deserter to having fifty people swear 'he was here just a few minutes
ago Sir, try the other side of the camp'." She grinned.
"That Colonel... Hogan, he wants me to go. I can tell." Fox argued.
"That doesn't make it official." Dana persisted. "Ramona is there any way
you could scare us up a couple of days rations to start us off?"
The Spanish woman almost laughed at the frustration on the new Colonel's
face. "I think I could manage a few useful things for your packs... and some
travelling clothes for you Miss Dana." She hinted.
"We certainly could use the supplies." Gabrielle agreed. "Bring her along
Fox." Besides, Mulder's attentions needed to be gently deflected. What better
choice could Gabrielle make than to open Fox's eyes to his own fiancee who was
fast proving herself more than she seemed?
Fox closed his eyes and grumbled harshly. "Putain de merde! Fine. I give up.
Go get yourself ready. I don't want to have to wait on you and you'd better not
slow us down.."
Dana turned and ran in the direction that Ramona was urging her.
Mulder watched her go, muttering under his breath. "Fils de pute."
Gabrielle shook her head slowly and playfully poked her companion. "Fox."
"What?" He looked wearily down at her.
{Did I mention that I speak several different languages.} Gabrielle teased
in French. {Nice words to use in front of a Lady.}
Mulder stared in shock a moment, then gathered his confidence back around
himself like a cloak. "Clever, Gabrielle." He sighed theatrically, grinning
mischievously and switching to Mohawk. The chance that she would understand
that were slight. {I want to hear your screams of pleasure when I make love to
you.}
Gabrielle had no clue what Fox was saying but she could hear the attempt at
seduction behind the words. Yes, he definitely needed another woman to focus
on. "Two can play at this game and I know I'm better equipped than he is."
{You'll be thanking me for bringing her along when you realise you don't have a
snowball's chance in Tartarus with me.} She taunted back in Greek as she walked
after Ramona and Dana.
La Princesa
Guerrera II
by Carla Jane and Jim
GABRIELLE: "What in Tartarus have you been carrying on these shoulders?"
