TITLE: Hidden Lies the Truth AUTHOR: Heather G. RATING: PG -13 CLASSIFICATION: X, MSR, A SUMMARY: Mulder is kidnapped by the Shadow Government. He returns with a severe case of amnesia. Scully must find out what happened to him and recov er his stolen memories. She burst through the hospital doors, running alongside the medical technicians, who were wheeling a stretcher down the hall. A nearly lifeless form lay on the stretcher, his skin pale, and his face a mask of pain. "How're his vitals?" she asked. "Weak. He's fading fast," one of the technicians told her. Dana Scully sighed and stopped short as they took the stretcher into the E.R. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Walter Skinner. "Skinner." "Sir, it's me. They found him." * * * Skinner's eyes widened at her words. They found him Fox Mulder had been missing for over eight months. He had been upon the truth, he was so close. Then he just...disappeared. His partner took up a quest to find him, believing her search had something to do with his. Skinner grabbed his coat and dashed out the door of his office. "Kim, I have to meet someone. Hold my calls, would you please?" "Yes sir." He practically ran down the hall to the elevator. They found him He almost couldn't believe those words. * * * He thrashed and tugged and twisted, calling out in his sleep. Words she couldn't make out, but the fear was there just the same. "Noo! Dana! Heeelp! Danaaa!" He screamed out in his sleep again, and then began to sob. "Shh. It's okay, Mulder. You're safe now. I'm here." She ran her hand through his hair trying to soothe him, and continued to speak to him slowly. He stilled, but his sobs still came. He was almost hysterical, and the only word that she could decipher was =E2=80=98Dana'. She gripped his hand to let him know she was there beside him. His sobbing quieted somewhat, and he squeezed her hand. Behind her Scully heard the door to Mulder's room open. Skinner said nothing, only looked at Mulder, who lay in his bed, tears streaming down his gaunt face. Skinner pulled up a chair beside Scully and resumed sizing Mulder up. After a long silence he said: "Jesus, Dana. What did they do to him?" Since Mulder's disappearance, Scully had become close friends with her boss, who helped her wherever he could in her search for Mulder. Scully flicked her gaze over to Skinner, then back to Mulder. "I don't know," she whispered. * * * He awoke and blinked his eyes. He was so tired. Every muscle in his body refused to budge. Where was he? "Dana?" he asked meekly. "I'm here, Mulder," she said moving over to where he could see her. She smiled reassuringly, and he closed his eyes. "How do you feel?" "Tired. Scared." He looked at her, and there was a kind of...emptiness in his hazel eyes. "Do you feel like talking?" "...Yes." "Do you know where you were?" "...No. I..." he looked off into space, his expression troubled. "I - I can't remember, Dana. I can't remember." He put his face in his hands, and she reached out to him. "It's okay, Sweetheart. You don't need to remem ber anything yet." He looked into her eyes and said: "I'm sorry I don't. I know you want me to." "No, no. You don't need to be sorry for anything." She kissed his forehead and turned to go. She met Skinner in the hall outside Mulder's room. "How is he?" "He is like a child. He has no recollection of where he was, and -I don't think- of who he was. --And he calls me Dana." He never called her Dana. * * * He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He couldn't move his arms or legs, they were strapped to the bed. There were men around him, just looking. The fetid smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. "Sanitize him." One of the men held up a syringe, testing the contents for bubbles. "Noo!" He screamed and sat up, to find that it was not dark at all, and he could move freely. "Mulder, are you okay? Oh God, you're shaking. What's wrong?" Nightmares were not uncommon, but one of this magnitude was. "There were men. It was dark... They did something to me..." She moved over to his bedside and held him. His body still shook with fright. "Dana, I was so scared!" When he had calmed down, Scully asked "Mulder, can I ask you something? How is it you remember me?" He studied her face for a moment and smiled. "I know you because... you're Dana. I just know your name is Dana, and that you are very special...that I love you, and I can trust you." Scully's eyes stung, and it was then that she realized she was crying. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together. "Nothing, it's just... I missed you so much. Excuse me." She retreated to the ladies' room and splashed cold water on her face. When she left, she had made up her mind to go see her mom. * * * Scully took out her cell phone and dialed her mom - and got the answering machine. "Hi Mom, it's Dana. There's something I need to talk to you about. I'll be leaving tomorrow. Love you." Skinner approached her again, concern written all over his face. "Are you ok?" "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to schedule Mulder a psychiatric evaluation. I want to see if we can bring his memories back." She left to pack for her mom's, and Skinner remained in the hall. He hated feeling helpless, and right now that's just what he was. * * * He opened the door and sat down next to Mulder's bed. Mulder was asleep for the time being. Skinner looked at him again, realizing how drastically changed Mulder was. He was frail, a far cry from the jogging, basketball playing FBI agent he had once known. He sat back and contemplated how he had protected Mulder like his own son. How could he let them do this to him? Mulder opened his eyes and gasped, startled by the man sitting in his room. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you." Mulder looked at him quizzically. He was so familiar, but then, not. "Do I...know you?" "You don't remember?" "No, I'm sorry. I don't. But you are familiar..." "Don't worry about it. My name is Walter Skinner, I was your boss at the FBI." "I worked for the FBI? Wonders never cease." That was one part of Mulder they couldn't take away - his sense of humor. "I'm a good friend of Dana's." "Does Dana work for the FBI too? Yes, she must," he answered himself. "That's how I know her. Where is Dana? She's not here..." "She went to visit her mother, she'll be back in a few days." "Oh." Mulder looked crestfallen. Dana was the only shred of familiarity in his life, he didn't want to lose her too. "Oh," he reiterated. "Do I know Dana's mom?" "Yes, you are a good friend of Dana's family." "Good. I wish I could remember..." * * * Scully knocked on her mom's door. The sun had set, and it was getting cold outside. "Dana, I got your message. What's wrong?" Scully could feel herself beginning to crumble. "They found him, Mom. But it's not him..." Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she was unable to stop them. "Come inside out of the cold," Margaret said, motioning her daughter inside. They went into the living room and sat down on the couch. "Now, what do you mean, it isn't him?" "They did something to him. He doesn't remember anything about where he's been, or about his past..." Scully hung her head, and watched the tears fall into her lap. "And he's always so scared. He'll lie awake all night, just staring." She drew a shaky breath, and Mrs. Scully put her arm around her. "How could I let them do this to him, Mom?" "Dana, it's not your fault. There was nothing you could've done." "Then why do I feel so guilty?" "Because you love him. But it isn't your fault." Scully wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thanks Mom." "Why don't you go get some sleep. I'd imagine you haven't had any in days." "No, I haven't..." "I'll be here if you need me." * * * Mulder turned over on his side, staring at the wall. He felt empty inside. There were all these people who cared for him... and he couldn't remember. But he wanted to so bad. "Do you need anything?" Skinner asked from across the room. "No, thanks. I'm fine. Umm...is Dana back yet?" "Not yet, but soon. I promise." Mulder sighed deeply and shut his eyes. When Dana was around he felt safe. He was afraid they would come for him again. That they would take him away from Dana forever. As far as he was concerned, they could do whatever they wanted to him, but not Dana. She didn't deserve it. "What should I call you?" he asked, addressing Skinner. "Just call me Skinner. What should I call you?" "Well, Dana says my name is Mulder, and she knows me better than I do, so I guess... call me Mulder." He rolled over on his other side and attempted to sleep. * * * He dreamed.... Of a small room with a desk piled with papers. Pictures of aliens plastered to the walls. On the desk there was a name plate that said Fox Mulder." Dana was there too. She wore a badge that identified her as Agent Dana Scully. She was speaking... "Mulder...Mulder?" He cracked his left eye open and saw Dana standing over him. "You were dreaming." "Dana Scully," he said uncertainly. Scully looked shocked but she didn't say anything. "Dana Scully," he repeated. "You have a pretty last name..." "What else do you remember?" she asked eagerly. "My name is.. Fox Mulder." Then under his breath he added "Give me a break, Fox?" He continued, "We worked for the FBI, but I don't know what we did... Something to do with ...aliens..." "Where did you find all this out?" "In my dream..." "Mulder, there's someone I'd like you to talk to. He's going to see if he can help you remember." He seemed to shrink, and he looked at her with eyes full of fear. "No more doctors, Dana," he said shaking his head, his voice unsteady. "He just wants to ask you some questions." "Let me think about it." * * * Dear Journal, Mulder has made much progress since we first found him. He knows my last name, his first name, and where we work. I am trying to persuade him to see a psychiatrist. He has an extreme fear of doctors, and is very reluctant. I am hoping, though I don't favor the method, that through regression hypnosis we can recover Mulder's lost memories. I can only pray he will remember... Scully closed her journal and looked over at Mulder. He was sitting up against his pillow, staring vacantly out into the hall. He blinked, and it was as if he returned to his body. His eyes were brighter and he sat more alert. "Dana, does it make you sad that I am not who I used to be?" The question came out of nowhere, and Scully was taken aback. "You'll always be my Mulder, no matter what." "Good... You call me by my last name. Should I call you 'Scully?'" "No, Dana is fine," she said reassuringly. She wasn't quite ready for him to call her Scully. Not until it means something again. * * * "Dana?" "Yes?" "Do I have to talk to him?" "To who?" "The person you wanted me to meet. Do I have to talk to him?" "You don't have to do anything you don't want, Love." A rush of memories went through his mind. "I remember!" "Remember what?" "The first time you called me that...I was sick and I wanted to go home - like now." Scully's heart sank. She knew how scared and alone he must feel. What little spirit he had left must be broken. Why didn't they finish him? Because they knew it would be more torturous to leave him half blank. His beautiful eyes pleaded with her, then filled with tears. "I want to go home. --I don't know where home is!" He had shadows under his eyes, and she knew that he had lain awake again. He grabbed her hand, her familiarity a thread, tethering him to his sanity. "I wanna go home. I'm so tired." Droplets rolled down his face and splashed on his blanket. "So tired..." "Why don't you get some sleep?" "What if they come back?" "They won't." She was so confident that he couldn't not sleep. She sat down with him, still holding his hand. He closed his eyes, his tear streaked face at peace. "I love you, Scully," he murmured as he fell asleep. Scully's breath caught in her throat. He called her Scully. Unconsciously, but still... "I love you, too," she whispered. * * * Dear Journal, Mulder is having increasing flashbacks triggered by strong emotional events. Calling him a nickname I gave him before he disappeared triggered a memory of the first time I called him that. He has a great longing to be home, but has no remembrance of where he lives. He called me Scully in his sleep and told me he loves me. He is still afraid to sleep. Addendum: He still will not see a psychiatrist. Scully looked up to see Mulder's back turned to her, his shoulders slumped. "Mulder, are you okay?" "Fine." "Is there something wrong?" "No." "C'mon, Love. You can tell me." "No, I can't." "Why not?" "I just can't." She sighed, remembering a time just like this one. She wished he could remember, too. "I don't want to remember, Dana." Scully drew a sharp breath, realizing she had said that out loud. She cleared her throat and pressed on. "Why don't you want to remember?" "Because I must've had some life for someone to want to do this. I don't want to know why they did." Scully moved over to the other side of the bed so he could see her. He turned away, but she reached out and touched his face, her eyes filling with tears. "Mulder, what you had... was a life of accomplishment. Exposing lies that affected the lives of everyone. Your sister, Samantha is still out there somewhere..." At the mention of his sister's name, his mind flooded with memories so numerous that he had to shut his eyes against them. "Samantha," he whispered. He opened his eyes, and smiled his bright, sunny smile. "Scully, I remember Samantha..." * * * "Dana... I - I want to talk. I want to remember." "That's good, Love. That's good," she told him smiling. They approached a large oak door with a gold name plate: Dr. Heitz Werber. He swallowed and hung back hesitantly. "It's ok, Sweetie, come on" " You going to be with me?" "Yes, I'll be right here." "Okay..." Scully knocked on the door, and they were met by a man with chiseled features, who looked vaguely familiar as well. "Dana, nice to see you again." Scully put on a forced smile, and Mulder noticed that she looked...strange. "Dr. Werber..." They sat down, and Dr. Werber explained the regression process. "Okay, Fox. I want you to think of a place you feel comfortable in, the most peaceful place imaginable. Then I want you to relax every part of your body, until you are completely relaxed. Now I want you to go back to the day they took you away." "I'm standing in my living room," Mulder began distantly. "They're... no..! They're all over me... I-I can't get away, I can't move..." "Fox, if this is too difficult, I want you to go back to that peaceful place..." "I can't see... It's dark. I can see my body... I'm unconscious..." "Now what do you see, Fox?" "I see... a room... a room full of men. I'm lying on a bed... my arms and legs...I can't move them. A man with a cigarette, he's talking..." "What is he saying?" "He says...he says I know too much...the truth is dangerous." Mulder's body was tense, and his hands clenched at his sides. "They uh, they're injecting me with something...oh God... I can't stay awake... but I..." He lowered his head, his breathing quick, and uneven. Scully slipped her hand in his, and he squeezed it tight. "Fox? Come back to us..." "No...I...I can't...they... it hurts." "Fox, come back to us," Dr. Werber instructed him. "I can't," Mulder said, shaking his head. "Yes you can. Come back..." Scully squeezed his hand back, and tears leaked out of her eyes. "Scully...Scully..." "I'm here, Mulder. I'm here." His eyelids fluttered and he slouched, hanging his head. He exhaled slowly and looked at Scully. "Oh, Mulder. I am so, so, sorry Love." "Don't cry, Dana." Scully wiped her eyes and turned to Dr. Werber. "Dr. Werber, can we come back again next week? That is, if it's ok with you, Sweetheart..." "I...guess so," Mulder replied reluctantly. "Good," Dr. Werber said cheerfully, "hopefully we can get to the bottom of this." "Thank you." From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:01:38 EDT Subject: xfc: Hidden Lies the Truth pt.1b Source: xfc Dear Journal, I took Mulder to see Dr. Heitz Werber, an expert on regression hypnosis. He recounted being taken from his apartment by persons unknown, and taken to an unknown location. He was told that he knew too much, that the truth was dangerous, and was experimented upon. I have scheduled another visit to Dr. Werber for further investigation. "Scully?" "Hmm?" "What did I say to Dr. Werber?" "I have a tape of your session, if you want to hear it..." Scully played the tape for him, and she was once again moved to tears. Upon Mulder's mention of the Cigarette Smoking Man, she exclaimed under her breath "That bastard!" "Dana, what does this mean?" "It means that we are one step closer to finding out what happened to you." "I'm sorry..." "For what?" "Everything...I just..." he sighed and looked away. "Don't be sorry, Love. It's not your fault," she said, taking his hand. He looked into her face with big, sad, hazel eyes, pulling her close and embracing her. "I missed you so much," he told her. "I missed you too." She kissed his cheek and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, you need some sleep." * * * Scully was roused from a light sleep by a faint moaning coming from her room. She sat sleepily up and got off the couch, stretching. She went into her room and found Mulder on his back, the blankets bunched and twisted from struggling. "Scully...Scullee..Scullee..." He called out to her, clenching a fistful of sheets in each hand. "No...no..Sculleee!" This time her name was more of a wail, and she feared what he must have been remembering. "Mulder? Mulder, it's ok. I'm here. Come on Love, wake up!" She ran her fingers through his hair, and realized that he was quite feverish. "Scullee...Scully...no! Scully! Stop them!" With that, his body went limp, and he curled into a ball, trembling. Now Scully was terrified. She had to wake him up. She began to shake him, talking to him and using his name. "Mulder you have to wake up. Come on, baby. Get up. I need you to wake up." He groaned and let out a long breath, then opened his eyes, which were heavy with fever and weariness. "Scully...Don't feel so good..." "Sweetie, I need you to sit up. Come on, sit up for me." He very meticulously hauled himself upright and blinked his eyes slowly. Scully moved over beside him. She hadn't even considered his weakened immunity after being sheltered from the outside world. "What hurts?" "Head, chest, throat..." It sounded to Scully like a textbook case of the flu. "We should get you to a doctor," she said mostly to herself. "No ! Scully, don't let them touch me!" "Babe, if you want to get better, you need to see a doctor." "I thought you were a doctor..." "Where did you find that out?" "I don't know...I just knew." He sighed and sat back against the pillow. "Doesn't matter. I'm not going." "Well, Love, it's up to you. I just want you to get better." * * * Dear Journal, Mulder has fallen ill with the flu. His immune system was weakened, as he was sheltered from the outside world for so long. He has continual nightmares, and it is becoming difficult to wake him. He refuses to see a doctor and I fear he will get worse before he gets better. Scully glanced at her watch, and got up to check on Mulder. He was asleep in her bed, his right arm dangling over the edge. He had adamantly refused to see a doctor, causing a decline in his health. She felt his forehead, which was still burning up, and let her hand linger on his placid face. "I am so sorry." She pressed a kiss to his warm cheek and returned to her living room. Without even realizing she had dozed off, she awoke to the sound of...silence. She hurried into Mulder's room, where he lay frighteningly still. Tiny drops of sweat formed on his face and rolled down his flushed cheeks. "Oh my god! Mulder? Mulder!" She took out her cell phone and dialed 911. "This is special agent Dana Scully. I have an emergency..." * * * The first sensation that registered when he came to was pain. He had an overwhelming headache, so painful he was afraid to move. The second was sound. Soft whirs, clicks, and beeps, soft voices... He finally got up enough strength to open his eyes. He was in a small white room. That was about all he could gather since he could barely turn his head on account of his headache. He was lying in a bed, and his arms and legs were restrained. A streak of panic surged through him as he tugged at the restraints. "Noo! NoNoNo! Scullee! Heeelp!!" He tugged more violently a the straps until he could feel a dull burning in his wrists and ankles. "SCULLY! Sculleee!" Salty tears spilled out of his eyes and he sobbed to be let free. "Scull-y! Heeelp!" Scully burst in, followed by several nurses to come to his rescue. "What were you thinking?! I said NO restraints!!" She walked over to his side and began speaking to him softly. "Mulder, Sweetie, it's okay. We're going to get you out." She turned to the addled nurses and shouted "Get these things off him! Now!" He continued to tug at the straps as they were undone, his eyes darting wildly with fear. He could feel warm blood trickling down his arms as the straps tore his skin. "Shh, it's alright, Love. They're off now, you're safe. Let's get some bandages on these cuts, huh?" The youngest of the nurses approached Scully with rolls of gauze and some gauze tape. "I'm sorry, I just came on the shift, and he was having nightmares. He was struggling so that he kept pulling out his I.V. I didn't receive the order not to restrain him." Scully paid her no attention, sitting Mulder up and holding him, rocking gently. Mulder said nothing, but continued to cry fearfully, "Babe, I need to put bandages on your arms, you hurt yourself. Can you let me do that?" Still saying nothing, Mulder sat back and held out his arms, which were red and bloody. Gingerly, Scully wrapped gauze around his wrists, taped it in place, then moved down to look at his ankles. His ankles had some redness and ligatures, but nothing too serious. "Oh...Scully," he finally managed, his lip trembling, his voice shaky. "There now, it's ok." "I thought..." He couldn't finish his sentence, and he looked to Scully, tears still running down his face. "I wanna go home!" he said, burying his face in her side. "Mulder...Mulder, look at me. It's okay, I'm right here, nothing's going to happen to you." She brushed away his tears with the back of her hand and smiled. "Now get some sleep, you're exhausted. I'll be right here if you need me." * * * Dear Journal, Mulder's flu has worsened, necessitating medical attention. He lost consciousness at approx. 7 pm, Wednesday. I called an ambulance and admitted him to the E.R. He woke up to find he was restrained, and grew hysterical. He pulled at the restraints until his wrists and ankles bled. I have him on medication for his fever, and bandage the wounds on his arms regularly. He has been resting quietly without further incident. "Scully, what am I doing here?" Scully looked up from her journal and over to Mulder, who was sitting up sullenly. "I told you, Love. You got sick, and you needed to see a doctor... How are your arms?" "Ok, I guess." "Here, let me see. I need to change your bandages anyway." She cut away the gauze exposing torn and raw skin. "Oh, Babe..." She took out a new roll of gauze and set it beside her, administering Neosporin to each of his arms. "When can I go? I don't like it here," he told her as she wrapped his arms. "Soon, I promise." "Scully, tell me about...us." "We were very close. We used to spend all of our time together. In fact, we were thinking about getting an apartment together." "I wish I could remember..." "You will, Baby. You will." Scully's phone rang, allowing them no more discussion time. "Hold on," she told Mulder as she drew out her phone and headed for the hall. "Scully." "Dana, it's me," Skinner informed her. "Sir." "How is he?" Scully told him of the events leading up to the present. "How is he now?" "He's fine. I just changed the bandages on his arms, and he should be able to go within a day." "That's wonderful news. Anyway, I just thought I'd check on you both. If you need anything, give me a call." "Thank you." * * * Mulder was staring at the door, feeling melancholy, when Scully came in and smiled. "You can go now. I just signed you out." "It's about time." "You'll have to take some medicine for a few days to help you feel better, though." "No biggie. Let's go." After Mulder got dressed, they departed for Scully's apartment. "Do you feel like talking to Dr. Werber today?" "I don't know...I think so." "Alright, you're going to do the same thing as last time, only this time I want you to go back to the day you escaped... Now what do you see?" "I see... I'm in a room...it's like a box, no windows... There's a man..." "What does the man look like?" "I don't know... I...can't see him, it's too dark...He's talking to me... he...he tells me to run...says he wants to help me...tells me to run out, stay to the right...don't stop..." "What happened after you got out?" "Alarms...men with guns... they chase me...I run...run down the road...away..." "Where did you go?" "To the city...slept in an alley...so hungry. Begged a for a ride...hafta get to D.C...don't know why..." "What happened when you got to D.C.?" "I...I...can't..." Mulder said, shaking his head. Fox, go back to the place we talked about...there, now I want you to come on back..." This time Mulder resurfaced without a hitch. Scully's eyes were teary, but she tried not to let Mulder see. "We'll see ourselves out." * * * Dear Journal, Mulder's flu is, for the most part, clearing up. He is on meds for fever and headaches, and I keep his arms bandaged. We saw Dr. Werber again, and Mulder's session this time entailed his escape. He was...sprung by an unknown man, and ran to a city in the surrounding area. He hitched a ride to D.C. where he collapsed, and a good Samaritan notified Washington Memorial of his whereabouts. My next course of action is to find the Cigarette Smoking Man. What I will do when I find him, I have no idea, but I'm going to find him... "Mulder?" "Yeah?" "Sweetheart, I have to go talk to someone, do you think you can stay here until I get back?" "Who are you going to see?" "I have to talk to Assistant Director Skinner at the FBI." "Oh. I guess so... You won't be gone long, will you?" "Not very long. Here, this is my cell phone number in case you need anything." He looked at the number for a few minutes, then put it in his pocket. "Don't open the door, and I'll be back soon." "Okay... Love you..." "I love you too." She flung open the door to Skinner's office, and marched purposefully past Kim, the secretary. She thought it odd that Kim didn't try to stop her. She must know better by now. "Sir, I need to ask a favor of you --" She stopped in mid-sentence, sensing something was not right. The smell of cigarette smoke hung faintly in the air. Scully whirled around discovering none other than the CSM himself lurking in a corner, shrouded in smoke. "You ," she hissed. "I've been expecting you, actually," CSM said coolly. "What did you do to him?!" "Agent Mulder was quite capable hands, I can assure you." "Cut the crap! What did you do to him? I want to know why he doesn't remember who he is, or where he lives, I want to know why he can't sleep at night!" "He was a liability." "To whom?!" "Though most of my colleagues are dead, the Project still lives on - most of my colleagues were fools. If Mulder were to expose the Project at such an advanced stage, it would be devastating." "How do I bring him back?" CSM took out a Morley cigarette and lit it, looking at Scully with surprise. "How do I bring him back?!," she asked again. "Who says you can?" Scully was taken aback, and gaped at him in horror. "You're lying!," she whispered. "Am I?" His steely gaze shifted to Skinner, who was watching uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I'm afraid I can't help you," he said, turning his reptilian eyes back on her. "I don't want your help, I want justice," Scully retorted coldly. "You should know by now there is no justice." With that, CSM ground out his Morley in the ashtray next to the 'no smoking' sign on Skinner's desk, and left. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:02:38 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: II Buried Are the Lies Source: xfc "You're just going to sit back and watch this unfold?!" Scully snapped at Skinner when CSM left. "What am I supposed to do, Agent Scully? Say 'Give Mulder his memories back, they aren't yours'?" "I'm sorry, Sir. I just..." She collapsed into a chair and hid her face in her hands. "This has been hard for all of us, Mulder most of all," Skinner went on. "What we need to do now is think of what's best for him." "Yes, you're right," She said sniffling. "It's so hard to...to watch him like that. Trying to remember, sometimes trying to forget...I can't imagine." "Are you going to be alright?" "Yeah. I have to go." Mulder began to wander around Scully's apartment. On a small coffee table sat various pictures of family and friends. One in particular caught his eye. It was a picture of Scully and a man. They stood smiling, his arm around her. They both seemed very happy. Catching his reflection in the glass of the frame, he realized that the man was...him. He almost thought he could remember the day. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. He would probably never remember, he thought to himself. But he really wanted to. If only to give Scully back what she had. He sighed sadly and lay down on the couch. No sooner had he closed his eyes, than he fell asleep. "Mulder, I'm home," she called as she unlocked the door. She stopped and looked around, noticing he didn't come to greet her. Her eyes swept the room and came to rest on the couch, where Mulder lay, knees drawn up to his chest, arms folded. He had gone to sleep on his own. * * * "Hey, what's cooking?" Mulder stood in the kitchen doorway, sleepy eyed, with a terrible case of bed head. "It's about time you woke up. And to answer your question, dinner." "That's profound," he said sarcastically. Scully smiled to herself. It was just like old times. He sat down at the table, watching as she flipped a grilled cheese sandwich and started a sauce pan of soup. "I took a look at your 'X-File.' Is that what we used to do? Is it because of what happened to my sister Samantha?" "Yes, that's what we used to do -- what I still do..." "I, um...I think I should talk to my mom. I know we've had our...differences, but maybe she can help me." Scully's blood boiled at even the slightest mention of his mother. She knew that CSM was behind everything that happened to her son, but did nothing to stop him. "That sounds like a plan. Do you want me to stay with you?" "No, I think this is something I should do myself. Thanks, though." "When do you think you'll go?" she asked, setting a grilled cheese in front of him. "I dunno. Maybe tomorrow... What do you think?" "Whatever you think is good, Love. It 's up to you." He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, debating when to leave. "Tomorrow sounds good." Same old spur-of-the-moment Mulder. * * * He left for Massachusetts the next morning. On the drive to the airport, Mulder was extremely quiet, but Scully dared not startle him out of his reverie. "You have my number, right?" "Yep." "Call me when you want me to come get you." She leaned over and kissed him, and he got out of the car. "See you in a few days." She pulled off and he watched her go until the Ford Taurus disappeared into the distance. The flight was surprisingly short, but was accompanied by more driving in order to get to his mom's house. He approached the house, which was in no way new or strange, and yet, he was nervous. He knocked on the door, and was received within a few minutes. "Oh my God! Fox!" his mother embraced him and they stood on her doorstep in the Chilmark cold. "Oh Fox, I thought I'd lost you!" "No, Mom, it's okay... But I do need your help..." "What is it? What's the matter?" She escorted him inside and they sat down at the dining room table. "Mom, the men who took me away... they did something to me. I can't remember things..." "My darling boy, what did he do to you?" "He who?" Mrs. Mulder looked away, and would not meet his eyes. "He who, Mom?" "Your father." "But... my father died four years ago." "Fox, there's something you should know. Your father... Bill and I raised you, but..." "You had an affair? You cheated on Dad?!" "Please, let me explain--" "Explain what, Mom?! Explain how you lied to my father, to me, how you let this man you now claim is my father kidnap me and mess with my head?! I don't think that needs explaining. You've told me enough!" "Fox, please. I'm sorry, I--" "No, Mom, I'm sorry." Mulder grabbed his jacket off the seat back and stormed out of the house, the screen door slamming behind him. He took out his cell phone and dialed Scully. "Scully." "Hey, Scully, it's me. I'll be on the next flight to D.C. can you meet me at the airport?" "Mulder...what's wrong?" "Nothing, I'll explain later." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." "Okay, I'll be there." He hung up and put his phone back into his jacket pocket. A chill autumn rain began to fall as he walked away from the house. He pulled his jacket up around his shoulders, and hung his head, watching the rain fall like so many tears. It hadn't occurred to him that he didn't have a car to get to the airport, but at the time he didn't care. Besides, that was easy enough to remedy. He trudged along, the road beneath his feet turning to mud. * * * Scully hung up her phone, a nagging worry present that wouldn't go away. There was something wrong. He wasn't there long enough to make any progress, and he sounded...upset. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and tried to push the worry from her mind. The next flight landed at 2 pm. She hoped he was okay. He sat on the plane waiting for take off, thinking over the events that took place earlier. After he had cooled down, he rented a car, and went to his mom's to wait for them to drop it off. At which time he got in another fight with his mother. "Who was it, Mom, huh?! Who was so desirable that you had to lie to your husband, your children -- his children -- to protect?!" His angry words still echoed in his head. His mother's hand shot out and lashed him across the face. "That is enough! I won't tolerate any more of your accusations! I made a mistake, Fox, and I'm sorry. But it's in the past." Mulder moved over to a picture of his father and a group of men. "Was it him?" he asked, pointing to a young CSM. "Was it the Smoking Man?" Mrs. Mulder didn't say anything, but her silence was affirmation enough. "Damn it, Mom! How could you?!" "Fox..." she began. "No, I can't--I won't hear it. I have to go." He signed for the car and left for the airport. * * * Scully sat waiting for Mulder's flight. What could've possessed him to fly back so soon? "Hey, Mulder" she stood up and motioned him over to her. "What's going on?" "Not now, Scully, please." They drove to Scully's apartment in almost complete silence until Scully said: "Sweetheart, what is it?" He sighed and continued to peer out the window. "I don't even know where to start, Scully...Basically, my mom had an affair before I was born, and my father just happens to be our cigarette smoking friend, who kidnapped me and messed with my brain." He was quiet for a moment, then went on, "You know, I wonder if Dad knew. He never really was that... affectionate towards me... He used to get drunk and smack me around. He said I was worthless, that he should've let them take me instead of Samantha..." "Babe, I-I don't know what to say..." " 'S ok, neither do I." He laughed, a hollow, humorless laugh. And then to his dismay, tears began to fall onto his hands folded in his lap. Hot, angry tears. He tried to brush them away and keep Scully from noticing, but it was to no avail. The tears still came, and Scully did see. But she said nothing, and for that he was very grateful. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:03:44 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT:III Wounds Yet Healed Source: xfc Dear Journal, Mulder went to see his mother yesterday. He discovered that she had an affair with the Cigarette Smoking Man, who, she says, is Mulder's biological father. He became enraged, and has locked himself in his room. Such emotional trauma has caused him to remember similarly emotional events, such as other fights with his mother, being abused by his father (Bill Mulder) and the disappearance of his sister. I am trying to coax him out, even if only to eat. "Mulder? Sweetie, aren't you hungry?" Scully knocked on the door to Mulder's room, which had been locked for some time. "No." She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Baby, come on, open this door." "I'm not coming out, Scully. You're just wasting your time." "But Mulder--" "Just LEAVE ME ALONE!!" Scully was shocked. He had never shouted at her before. But while she was hurt, she also felt guilty. She deserved it. If he wanted to be left alone enough to lock himself in his room, she should've known better than to have bothered him. He sat on the floor up against the door, hands clasped on his knees, which were drawn to his chest. "Just leave me alone," he whispered as the tears began to fall again. He was angry at his mom, angry at himself...Just angry. And he couldn't help but feel like it was all somehow his fault. "Leave me alone," he whispered again, and his shoulders shook with quiet sobs that no one else heard but the walls. Scully sat trying to read a book, but her concern for Mulder was too great to allow it. At least an hour had gone by since his outburst, and he had fallen nearly silent, save for a few shaky sighs. "I'm going for a run." She looked up, and saw him standing in his doorway dressed in sweats and a tee shirt, and a pair of Nike shoes. "Okay Love...Be careful." He said nothing in reply, and left, trying ever so hard not to slam the door. It almost worked. Scully sighed and returned to her book. She knew what he was going to do. He used to do it whenever he got angry--a creature of habit, she supposed. He would go out and run until he nearly keeled over from exhaustion. That way, he'd be too tired to be mad. She sighed again, and continued trying to read. * * * He ran in the brisk Virginia evening breeze, counting his breaths and footfalls. Why did she lie to me? Did Dad know? Is Samantha really a Mulder? How could she do that to us? And she wonders why her marriage went to hell. He ran these thoughts out of his head until all he could think about was taking the next step. When he returned home, he almost collapsed in the doorway. He kicked off his shoes and flopped on the couch. Within seconds, he was sound asleep. Scully listened to the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest as he slept. He had been out for a good two hours now. She looked at him, noticing how pleasantly he slept when he was exhausted. She let her eyes linger on his face, and a small, bluish bruise caught her attention. She made a mental note to ask him about it when he woke up. Scully moved over next to him and sat down, snuggling up to him. She again listened to his breathing as her eyes grew heavy. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. * * * Mulder awoke to find Scully burrowed into his side, snoring soundly. He was still bone tired, and his face hurt. He reached up and touched his cheek, then hissed in pain and surprise, drawing his hand back. "Mom..." he whispered, then a sudden surge of anger coursed through him as he remembered what happened in Massachusetts. But he was too tired to react. He felt empty again, and scared. He had come so far, just to have the walls he had built up torn down. Everything he had recovered, all it amounted to, was shattered by this latest discovery. He was too tired to cry, he was too tired to yell...he was tired of it all. It would be nice to set things right, but it would never be the same. He began to remember his childhood, feeling the same way when his parents got divorced. There was nothing he could do to make his parents stop fighting, or bring Sam back, and it was all his fault -- or so it seemed. He sat back against the couch and heaved a huge sigh, staring into space. Not thinking, not dreaming, just staring. He must have fallen asleep again, because he opened his eyes and found Scully gone. She was up and bustling around in the kitchen, he guessed making a cup of tea. He sat up and ran his hand through his hair. He had a massive headache, most likely from thinking too much, too soon. "Good morning." He looked over to see Scully standing beside him, smiling slightly. "Mmm. Morning. What time is it?" "Seven o'clock - a.m." "Jeeze..." "Tea?" "Nah, I'm okay." He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. "I could use some aspirin, though." She went to retrieve the aspirin from the kitchen, and he moved over to the window and peered out. It was drizzling, the busy street a large expanse of slush. He liked the rain, the gloominess suited him well. She handed him two small, white pills and a glass of water. He swallowed them both, and continued to gaze out the window at nothing in particular. Scully stood by his side, just watching him, which he found annoying. He was sure she just wanted to help him, but right now he wasn't in the mood for her hovering. He waited for a few minutes to see if she'd go away on her own, and when she didn't he turned to face her. "Yeah?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "What happened to your face?" He remembered the bruise on his face, and reached up absently. "I got in a fight with Mom before I left. Said some things that I shouldn't have, that's all..." His voice was distant, and there was a frightening hollowness in his eyes that disturbed her. "You piss her off, you better watch out..." He turned back to the rain, watching as it pattered on the street below. * * * Dear Journal, Mulder has become extremely melancholy. Rather than being angry or distressed about the events of the week, he just doesn't feel one way or another about it. He stares out the window watching the rain. He is empty, hollow, usually not eating, occasionally not sleeping. I don't know what to do for him. I really don't know. She ended her entry and looked over at Mulder. He was still staring out the window, watching disinterestedly as the droplets fell from the sky. His eyes were red rimmed and swollen, a sign of sleep deprivation. Scully sighed, pushing her hand through her hair. Though she herself didn't realize it, she too lacked sleep and was malnourished. She was weary, and didn't know what to do with herself. She couldn't sleep because she was afraid to leave him alone, but she was so damn tired. "Mulder, aren't you tired?" she asked exhaustedly. "No." "I have to sleep, okay?" "I'll be here." She went into her room, too tired to care about changing her clothes. She sank onto the bed, pulling the comforter around her shoulders. Her sleep was troubled by nightmares. Dreams of Mulder being taken away, and how she lived in fear. He was drawn into Scully's room, sensing that something was not right. Scully tossed in her sleep, wringing the bed sheets in her hands. "Mulder..." she whispered. "Leave him alone, you bastards!" He put his hand on her face, and she relaxed. She whispered his name one last time before passing into restful sleep. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't be like this, he thought. It's all my fault. She'd be better off without me. The emptiness was still with him, an ever present companion. Wandering back into the living room, he withdrew his pocket knife, selecting the sharpest blade. Extending his left forefinger, he touched the tip of the blade to his fingertip and sliced down toward his palm. He stopped at the middle knuckle, watching warm crimson spill down his hand. He looked at the blood coursing from the wound. It made him angry, that he could be so alive, and feel so dead. The rage settled in the pit of his stomach, and he drew the knife the rest of the way down his finger and onto his palm. More blood flowed freely, washing red onto his hand. Then he was empty again, the rage was gone. His mind was numb. He stared in disbelief at what he had just done, then cleaned the knife, put it away, and returned to staring out the window. * * * She opened her eyes and sat up urgently. She had to make sure Mulder was okay. Hurrying out into the living room, she found him sitting exactly where she left him, looking vacantly out the window. She sat down next to him and grasped his hand. He pulled his hand away,= pain searing through him, hot and sickening. "Mulder, what's wrong?" "Nothing - it's nothing." "Let me see," she said, grabbing his wrist. "This is going to get infected.. Probably should have stitches too. What happened?" "Nothing... I dunno, cut myself, I guess." "Come on, let's get this cleaned up." She led him into the bathroom and brought out a first aid kit. "They wouldn't stitch this, it runs right over the joints," she mumbled to herself. "You're lucky it's not deep, otherwise you'd lose some movement in your finger." She took out a box of butterfly closures and placed them at intervals down the length of the wound. "Be careful, and don't take these off." He had a tough time using his left hand now, but he didn't mind the pain. It reminded him that he was alive, that he could feel. And he liked that. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:04:54 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: IV Ever Black Source: xfc Dear Journal, I have begun to notice large cuts appearing on Mulder's arms. I have reason to believe they are self inflicted. His emptiness, lack of sleep, and self inflicted wounds are signs of chronic depression. When people with depression start cutting themselves, it usually builds up to a suicide attempt. I am afraid to leave him alone, and keep periodic checks on him. I want to stop an attempt before it starts. Over the next few days, the cuts became more frequent, varying in size and depth. Scully never let him out of her sight - within reason - and tried to keep him occupied. "Mulder, you know if you want to talk about anything, I'm here..." "Appreciate it," was all he said. She began to worry. If he wouldn't talk to her, he wouldn't talk to anybody, and that could be dangerous. "I'm so tired," he said one day. "Why don't you get some sleep?" she suggested. "No, I don't mean like that. I mean tired of this. Of everything. Not remembering, fighting, you not being able to sleep because of me...Just so tired of it." He hung his head and stared at the floor. "Dammit, Scully, I'm even too tired to yell or to cry or be angry!" She put her hand on his shoulder and her looked up at her. "I'm tired, Scully," he said hollowly. "I know you are, I know you are." "No, you don't..." He began to scratch absently at a scab on his arm. "Oh, Babe." "Don't be sorry for me. I'm the one who should be sorry." He got up and went into his room. * * * Dear Journal, There has been a decline in Mulder's mental stability. He is now almost totally apathetic. His favorite answers to questions are 'I don't care' and 'Whatever.' He will go for days without food, and when he does eat, it has little nutritional value. He has distanced himself from me, out of the illusion that all that has happened was his fault, and that I am better off without him. He continues to inflict harm upon himself as a means of release. I can't figure out how or when, as I never let him out of my sight. He will not let me administer to the cuts, and I fear that they will become infected. I don't know how I can help him if he won't let me. Scully knocked on Mulder's door. "Can I come in?" "I don't care." She pushed the door open and sat down next to him on his bed. "Whatcha doing?" she asked. "Nothing." She looked at his arms and saw two new cuts, closer to his wrists. "How did you hurt yourself?" "Don't know." "Yes, you do," she said gently. "You've been hurting yourself on purpose, haven't you?" He hesitated, and a look of inner turmoil crossed his features. "Out," was all he said. She made him mad. Why couldn't she leave him alone? Didn't she see she'd only end up hurting herself if she got close to him? He took his knife from where he'd carefully hidden it from Scully. With a trembling hand, he held the blade to his left wrist. He had thought about this a lot. He began to pull the blade across his skin, then stopped. He was sure. He started again, feeling the knife cut deep through him. Only after he was done doing the same thing to the other wrist did he really look at what he'd done. There was so much blood... What the Hell was he doing?! He started to feel dizzy...He staggered out of his room, trying desperately to find Scully. "S-cully...Scull-y..." Scully looked to see Mulder, his shirt drenched in blood, which was washing from slits in his wrists. "Jesus!" He slumped against a wall, and slid down to the floor when he could no longer support his own weight. "Stay right here, Baby." Duh, Dana, where's he gonna go? she thought to herself. She grabbed some hand towels and some masking tape. She wrapped a towel around one of his wrists, pulling it tight, then wrapped tape as tightly as possible around it, making a makeshift tourniquet. When she was sure she had done all she could, she called 911. * * * Dear Journal, Mulder made an attempt to end his own life yesterday. He went into hypovolemic shock and passed out due to lack of blood. They were able to stop the bleeding and sew his wrists back up. He is now receiving a blood transfusion and will be well in a few days to a week. I have made the heartbreaking decision that I am no longer qualified to take care of him. He will be admitted to an institution and kept on suicide watch. I hate myself for doing this, but it is what's best for him. Scully put down her pen and wiped her eyes. She shifted her gaze to Mulder, who caught her stare. "Hey," she said cheerfully. He blinked his eyes in response and continued to stare at her. "How you feeling?" Again he said nothing. No one could understand why he wouldn't speak. The doctors said he should be fully responsive. He just chose not to be. Occasionally, he would say a word or two, but that was all. "Thirsty?" He nodded once and she poured him a cup. He drank, then crumpled the paper cup in his hand, throwing it to the floor furiously. He let out a small groan and lay down. "Hurts." "I know it does, Love. And it will for a while." "Home." "I need to talk to you about that..I can't take care of you well enough... And they're going to take you somewhere where you can be taken care of while I find out who did this to you." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. His expression didn't change, but his eyes betrayed that he was afraid. "Hospital?" "Not...Not exactly..." He stopped talking altogether. They took him to a place just like a hospital - it looked like one, and it smelled like one - except here, the rooms contained furniture to some extent. Scully did all the talking, he was just along for the ride. "Mulder?" He looked her in the eye, letting her know he was listening "I'm going to go now, okay?" He nodded, and she motioned him closer to her face. He obliged, and she kissed him. It was new to him, but it felt right... He felt some of the emptiness melt away. When she left and he was alone, he curled up on his bed and cried for the first time in days. When she left, Scully felt horrible, abandoning him like that. Now she had to go see Skinner. She had to find the Cigarette Smoking Man, and Skinner was the person to ask. "Sir..." "Dana, I heard about Mulder...I'm sorry..." "If you're going to provide me with something, it should be information, not condolences." "Excuse me?" "You know who did this to him, and you know how to find him." "I'm sorry Agent Scully, you must be mistaken." "Mistaken? Fine, if you won't help me, I know someone else that will." She turned and started for the door. "Don't misunderstand me, Agent. If I could help you, I would..." She looked at him for a moment, then left shutting the door behind her. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:06:34 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: V You Shall Be Free Source: xfc Dear Journal, I went to see Mulder yesterday, and they told me he had been 'moved.' They had him locked in a padded cell! He sat in the corner staring into space. They told me he had become violent, and wouldn't let anyone near him. He had bandages on his wrists, from pulling his own stitches, they said. He still doesn't talk, except to me, and even then not much. I feel terrible..! "Baby, it's me." He didn't move, not even a blink. Scully turned to the door and dismissed the orderlies, much to their dismay. "They're gone. Do you want to talk?" He shook his head. "Did you hurt yourself?" she asked indicating swollen and bruised knuckles. "Guy deserved it." "Who deserved what?" "Monkey suit," he said motioning toward the orderlies. "Punched 'im." His eyes still did not focus on her, almost as if he was talking to the wall. "Why?" " 'Cause I was mad..." "Why were you mad, Baby?" Silence. His expression was blank, his eyes cold. He tugged distractedly at the gauze tape on his wrist in a vague effort to pull it off. She touched his hand, and he stopped, leaning his head against the wall. "Hate," he said disdainfully. "Hate...hate, hate, hate..." He tugged again at the tape, succeeding only in frustrating himself. "Have you slept?" "Nightmares, Babe... can't sleep." Then he stopped talking. She tried, but he wouldn't speak. She sighed and stood up. "I'm going to go... I love you..." He still didn't say anything, but took her hand and single tear rolled down his face. Scully hurried out before she fell apart. She didn't want Mulder to see. She needed to be strong for him... Scully walked down the corridor purposefully. She needed to talk to Mulder's doctor. She accosted him, ready to give him a piece of her mind. When she had his attention, however, she forgot what she was going to say. "I um...uh...I needed to ask you something..." "Yes?" He was an older man, with a kind face, and soft eyes. "A patient of yours, Fox Mulder, you have him in here," she gestured to the small cells, "but he doesn't seem that dangerous - to me." "And you are?" he asked gently. "I'm sorry, I'm Agent Scully. He was... is my partner." "Yes, Mr. Mulder. He's not particularly talkative, but he has mentioned you...We have him here because he becomes violent. Sometimes toward himself, sometimes toward others. He refuses to eat, and he can't and won't sleep -- he's troubled by nightmares, you see. We give him sedatives and that seems to help." "What about the bandages on his arms?" "He tried to pull out his own stitches. The bandages are a safe guard." "Oh my god..." "I'm afraid there's not a lot we can do to help his condition." She hated when people did that. Telling her that her quest was futile, that was the last straw. "Not a whole lot you can do! I love him and I am not about to give up on him!" With that, she stormed down the hall. But she halted in front of Mulder's room, looking in the window on his door. He was huddled in the corner trembling. "Scully..." he called softly. She continued walking, picking up her pace. * * * "Scully..." Why did she have to do that? Now he was all alone, save for the nightmarish voices in his dreams. He wouldn't let the doctors near him the rest of the day. They came to give him anti-depressants, and only ended up aggravating him and having to turn tail and flee. He was finally able to feel, but unfortunately, the only thing he could feel was outrage. He screamed and yelled necessitating sedatives. Trouble was, they couldn't get close enough to give it to him. Finally they decided to give it a try. He saw them coming and was ready for them. He shoved one of them against the wall, but was grabbed from behind by another. Now two of them had him by the shoulders, and he twisted and struggled furiously. He broke free from one side, and succeeded in socking another one, but they were annoyingly persistent. "NO! Nooo! Lemme go! Noooo!!" Of course yelling at them did no good. They prevailed and he cowered in his corner, calming with each breath. Eventually, the sedative took full effect, and he became lethargic. He sat almost completely still, burning holes in the wall with his eyes. It wasn't fair. One thought occupied his mind until he fell asleep: ScullyScullyScullyScullyScully... Scully, help me! With that final plea, he fell into drug induced slumber. * * * He awoke extremely groggy and still sluggish. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he realized that he wished he knew the time. What does it matter if I know the time, anyway? he thought. There was a sudden flurry of movement outside his door, and for a brief moment, he thought it might be Scully. His hopes were crushed, however, when a young man entered and kneeled down across from him. He had the eyes of a snake, and Mulder was not sure if he could trust him right away. "Mulder... I don't know if you remember me or not, but after what I had done for you, and having you end up here, I couldn't help but stop by." "And you might be..?" "That's not of much concern," the young man said chuckling. "The only thing that concerns you is getting out of here, correct?" "Yeah, so?" "So I came to give a little advice. Your ticket out, if you will..." "Oh yeah? Like what?" Mulder asked cynically. "The only person you can help is yourself. There's nothing that you can do to change the past. You have no control over that. You do, on the other hand, have control of the future. If you want to help yourself, you have to believe. You have to search for the truth. What is that they say, 'The truth shall set you free' ?" Mulder laughed sardonically, and continued to size up this newcomer. "So what are you saying?" he asked after a moment. "I'm saying that if you want things to get better, you have to make them better. You can't sit back and wait for good fortune, 'cause it ain't gonna make it around to this neighborhood. Everything you're looking for lies in the X-Files." The man turned toward the door, beckoning to the orderlies. "Look out for Number One. Then you can help Scully and everyone else. Contrary to what I told you before, you can't just run." With that last sentence, something in Mulder's head clicked, and it all fell together. "You!" The man winked in response and walked out the door. He had to see Scully. He had to start digging. He had to get out. * * * Scully walked briskly down the hall to Mulder's room. Unfortunately she hadn't gotten much excavation done on his case when she received a call to come down. They had told her that Mulder wanted to see her, and wouldn't be satisfied until he did. She was let in, and met by Mulder who greeted her ardently. "Scully! Hecametoseeme, Igottagetout, haftastartsearching..." "Whoa, whoa, slow down. First things first. Who came to see you?" "The guy that let me out, told me how to get away from Them. He came and said if I want things to get better, I have to make them better, and that everything I'm looking for is in the X-Files. I need to start digging." Scully hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. "I think I can arrange that, but you have to have a psychiatric evaluation first. They'll need to see if it's...safe for you to go. Then we'll go from there." He smiled and his eyes were bright, burning with anticipation. "I'm gonna make it, Scully. I'm going to get the hell out of here, and I'm going to figure this all out. I can. And I will." He was so determined that it did her heart good to see it, and she was reinvested herself. Same old work-driven Mulder, she thought smilingly. "The truth shall set you free, Scully. The truth shall set you free." And he smiled too. * * * She waited restlessly while Mulder underwent an evaluation. It was strictly confidential, and thusly, she was not allowed in. After some time, they emerged, and the psychiatrist called her over. "Well?" Scully asked anxiously. "He is no longer a danger to himself, but, as you know, depression won't just disappear in a day. I suggest that we keep him on an anti-depressant. Other than that, he's free to go." She wrote them a prescription and Mulder and Scully were on their way. As they walked down the hall, Scully glanced at the recommended medication. ZOLOFT. She had heard of this before. It was a potent anti-depressant, somewhat stronger than prozac. It regulated serotonin levels in the brain, increasing mental stability and helped curb depression. It's still this bad... And what was worse, she didn't know how she could get him to take it... Well, that was pointless, he thought as they left. All she did was ask a bunch of questions - dumb questions, at that. But it didn't matter,= he was out. He was free. And he was gonna kick some ass. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:08:25 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: VI Cause and Effect Source: xfc Dear Journal, Mulder getting himself out of the institution is a start, but there is still the problem of reinstatement. Technically he was never discharged, but... I will talk to higher-ups today about our situation. Hopefully we can get this all over with quickly so we can get to work. He is very determined now and won't let anything stand in his way. I honestly don't know where to begin... Scully closed her journal and stared thoughtfully at the wall. It had been a long time since she last wrote, and so much had happened. She figured she'd start the search by going to see A.D. Skinner, and getting the whole reinstatement thing cleared up. She decided to go find Mulder and see if he wanted to come. She got up off the couch and went to look for him. He stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth, and looking himself over in the mirror. "I'm going to go talk to Skinner about getting started... Do you want to come with me?" "Ish it about me?" "Kind of..." "Yeah, guess sho," he said around a mouthful of toothpaste. "Okay, let me know when you're ready." They sat outside Skinner's office waiting to be called in. Mulder sat fidgeting like he used to, adjusting his tie or drumming his fingers against his leg. For some odd reason, he could never seem to sit still. Scully laid her hand on top of his and he looked at her, a sheepish grin on his face. "Agents..." Skinner poked his head out the door and motioned them inside. Saved by the A.D., Mulder thought to himself. "Agent Scully, Agent Mulder..." Skinner said by way of greeting. "Sir." Though Mulder hadn't been back to the J. Edgar Hoover building since he'd returned, and his boss was almost a stranger, there was still a kind of cool confidence about him =E2=80" just like there always was. Something that Skinner had noticed during all the years that he had known Fox Mulder was that no matter who was passing judgment or who he was standing up to, whether it be being called "Spooky" by his peers, or being reprimanded by superiors, he was always so confident. And looking at him, Skinner was almost envious. "Sir, I wanted to address the issue of Agent Mulder's reinstatement." "He was never officially discharged, correct?" "Yes, but given the circumstances, I wasn't sure the FBI would" Scully trailed off, not knowing exactly how to say what she wanted to say. "I see..." Skinner seemed to take her meaning and frowned, puzzling over the situation. "Until further notice, Agent Mulder is to work in an unofficial capacity." "Yes sir." Mulder listened, chewing his lip thoughtfully as the conversation went by. What had he meant by 'unofficial capacity' ? Why? "Agents, you're dismissed." Scully turned and started out the door, and he trailed behind her. "Agent Mulder..." "Yeah?" "Good luck." Mulder nodded his thanks, confused, and followed his partner out the door. * * * They went into their office in the basement, and he noted that almost everything was the same as in the dream he had in the hospital. "This is where we worked..." he said with awe. He closed his eyes against all the snippets of memory. Bits and pieces of things he'd done here, all the time he'd spent working... In the time he'd been gone, Scully never changed the nameplate on the desk. 'Fox Mulder, Special Agent,' sure enough. It was almost heartbreaking to know that she had looked for him this long and never gave up hope that he would someday return. And for some reason, he knew how she felt. "Scully, were you ever=E2=80=A6gone?" "Gone, love? What do you mean?" "Like I was. Did they ever take you? They did. Didn't they?" "Yes, yes they did. The doctors told me I had been missing for three months. They weren't keeping their hopes up while I was in the hospital, either." "I remember. I was so sad. I was hurt, how could they do that to my Scully?! They were going to kill you. Your family was going to let you die..." His eyes were unfocused, replaying the events in his mind like a movie. Scully saw that his hands were clenched at his side and shook with anger. Or fear. His eyes refocused on the office then looked to Scully, and smiled. She smiled too, and they held a soft gaze. He looked away and grinned embarrassedly. "It's okay, don't be embarrassed." "I just... I love you so much." "I love you too." "I won't ever let them hurt you again, Scully. I promise." It sounded so much like what she had vowed all those times to his slumbering form that she felt her eyes stinging with tears. "I promise too, Baby. I promise." "Scully, I -- I wanna kiss you." "I'd like that very much." No matter what it was they did to him, it was the same Mulder. His kiss was as soft and gentle as it ever was. "Thank you," he whispered. "For what?" "Everything." He wrapped her in his arms, shielding her from harm. She snuggled closer to him, breathing him in and listening to him breathe. And that's how they stood until Scully lost track of time. "Let's go home, Scully. I'm tired." Even though they hadn't gotten anything done, she knew better than to argue with him. With his arm around her waist, they walked out to the elevator. * * * She woke with a start and looked around frantically, not sure where she was. A hand reached up and touched her shoulder from behind. Scully gasped and whirled around to face Mulder, who sat up looking at her worriedly. "Scully, wha's wrong? he asked, his tone soft and comforting. "It's nothing, I -- I... Just nightmares, is all. I'm okay, really," she added when he continued to eye her incredulously. "If you're sure you're okay, I'll trust you on that," he said finally. "But if you need anything, you can tell me." It's the least I can do, he thought. "How long've I been..?" "A good couple hours. I didn't think I'd wake you, you needed the rest." She looked at him expressing her thanks without words. He returned a look and smiled, anytime. "I'm gonna shower." " 'Kay." She stepped into the spray of warm water, momentarily chilled by the contrast of the air and water. Letting the warmth wash away some of her fatigue and tiredness, her mind began to wander. Where were they going to start, she wondered? How do you track a man who leaves no trace? What does the strange man that visited Mulder in the institution have to do with all this? She wished she could answer the questions as quickly as she could ask them, but unfortunately, that was not the case. She decided to start with the stranger, the only solid lead she had. The institution would have surveillance tapes of his visitors, maybe she could identify him... The water flowed over her tired muscles and she stood reveling in the soothing sense of peace. She thought of Mulder. He was still not quite whole, and it pained her to see that, but it also did her good to know how far he'd come. But it wasn't far enough. She knew that he still hurt, and she wanted to make his pain disappear. She turned the faucet and got out, wrapping a towel around herself. She looked into the mirror, straight into her own eyes. And it was then, facing herself in the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pink bath towel, that Dana Scully vowed her revenge. The kettle whistled, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "Crap!" He raced to the stove and took the kettle off the burner. He had been thinking, and so forgot about his quest to make tea. Removing a coffee mug from the cupboard, and unwrapping a single Lipton tea bag, he poured steaming water into the cup and watched the vapor rise from the steeping tea. While his back was turned, Scully appeared in the doorway, watching him. She stood looking on as he hovered over his drink waiting for it to cool. He turned to grab a spoon from the drawer, and saw her out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, hey Scully. Didn't see you standing there..." "Whatcha doing?" "Umm, nothing really. Makin' tea...you want some?" "Yes, please." She stood thinking to herself and staring at the medicine cabinet. Medicine cabinet. "Oh, that reminds me," she said, partly thinking aloud, "you need to take your medicine." "Wha..? But Sculleee... I -- I... I don't..." "I know you don't want to, but remember, it's for your own good. I wouldn't have you do anything that wasn't." "But, but..." he trailed off and shook his head knowing he was beaten. "Okay" She handed him a small pill and he stared at it disgustedly, his head hung, and Scully was reminded of trying to get her godson to take medicine. "Baby, staring at it won't do any good." "Yeah, alright." He swallowed it with a sip of tea, and though it had no taste he still had a jaded look on his face. "Oh, Sweetie, it's not that bad." "Tch, yeah right." She walked over to him and tousled his hair, and picked up her mug full of tea. "C'mon, let's go sit down." * * * "You seem awfully quiet," Scully said later that evening. "Is something bothering you?" "No, I'm just not... don't feel like talking much." "Okay... Can you do something for me? "Sure. What?" "I want you to keep a journal. When you don't feel like talking, you can write it down. That way you can get your thoughts out without telling anyone anything ." She saw the reluctant look on his face and added "I keep one too." "...I guess so." "That might help you more than I can. You can tell it things that you can't tell other people." "You wouldn't read it, would ya, Scully?" "Not if you didn't want me to." "Okay...Good." Journal, Scully says I should write down how I think and feel. I'm still not sure if I favor the idea, but I'll give it a try - for Scully. I don't want to make things any harder for her. I feel so bad, I know it's all my fault. But I'm going to make things better. I'll set things right Scully, I promise. F.M. Dear Journal, I have encouraged Mulder to keep a journal as well. He wasn't real... cozy to the idea, but I think it will help him more than I can, just being able to get his thoughts out on paper. I have decided to start our investigation by finding the identity of the man that helped Mulder escape.= This seems to be one of the key pieces of the puzzle. We will go to the institution to view the security tapes tomorrow. * * * Scully was surprised to see that it was really quite simple to gain permission to view the tapes. Pull a few strings here, flash her badge there and voila... Mulder looked around with distrust and left over anger. The place gave him the creeps. It was difficult to get a clear look at the man's face, he did a fairly good job of staying out of the camera's line of sight. He also hid his hands from view, Scully noted. "Okay freeze it." The security guard froze the tape just as the man turned to wink at Mulder, and Scully's breath caught in her throat. "What? What's wrong?" "It can't be..." she whispered. Winking at them from the black and white t.v. screen smiled Alex Krycek. A million questions ran through her mind, effectively adding to the mountain that was already there. She stood gaping at the monitor for a few minutes not knowing what to do or say, how to think or to act. "Can't be..?" Mulder prodded. "Him...Krycek. Why?" Krycek. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't put the face with the name. Krycek. He tried again to recall a memory of this man Krycek. Scully turned to the guard, still searching for words. "Thank you. Come on, Mulder," she said taking his hand. He sat in the passenger seat looking at his hands folded in his lap. "Penny for your thoughts..." "He killed my father - Krycek did, didn't he Scully?" "There was evidence to suggest that he did, yes." "Why would he help me?" "I don't know, Love. I've been trying to figure that out myself." He was quiet for the rest of the night. When they returned home, he said: "I'll be in my room if you need me." "Okay." Dear Scully, (I've found it easier to pretend I'm writing to you, than just a blank book) It seems that rather than answer questions, we've merely raised more. For starters, what does Krycek have to do with this? Why would he want to help me? I'm so confused, Scully. I hope we can find him and see if he can answer any of our pressing questions. I don't understand any of this at all! I wonder what finding Krycek will accomplish? I don't want to think about it anymore. ` F.M. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:10:11 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: VII Smoke and Mirrors Source: xfc Krycek shifted uneasily in his chair. Smoke rose into the air clouding above his head and infiltrating his lungs. He coughed and shifted again, waiting for the older man to speak. At length, the man said: "I trust you know why you are here..." "No, actually," Krycek lied, "But you seem informed, why don't you let me in on it?" CSM was quiet for a moment, regarding Krycek with cold eyes. "I won't play games with you," he said finally, still not raising his voice or changing his tone. "You helped him escape, and it won't be tolerated." Krycek continued to stare at him with a sort of hard indifference, but in all truth, he was afraid. There was virtually no end to this man's power, and he'd just double-crossed him, not smart at all. "I won't condone your insubordinance, Alex," CSM went on. "I won't condone treatment of another human being in such an ungodly fashion. Someone had to stop you," Krycek retorted, using more courage than he knew he had. "Before you take sides, I suggest that you know whose side you're on." He rose to leave, grinding out his Morley and added, "Next time may not be as pleasant." Krycek sagged back into his chair. Pleasant wasn't quite the word he would've used to describe their encounter, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then strode out the door. What was he doing standing up for the man who had for so long been his enemy? It wasn't about the man anymore, it was about the ideals. 'Before you take sides, I suggest that you know whose side you're on' CSM's words ran through his mind. He didn't take sides, the only side he was on was his own. He tried to keep his work impersonal, not to care one way or the other about what he was hired to do. It was just work. But now... this just wasn't right. You're a fool, he thought. You can kill someone over something that doesn't affect you, but you can't go along with a plan to save the world. The sacrifice of one man to save millions. "A fool," he said aloud and stepped out into the rainy street. * * * CSM sat in his dark office alone, thinking. Something must be done about his insubordinate colleague. And their escapee. He was too busy a man to be worrying about traitors. Had Krycek not helped Mulder get away, he could be ahead of the game. Mulder was a danger to the Project. Now he was free, and most likely already delving into his 'X-Files.' On top of that, the stuff his brain donors at the lab injected him with something that was only experimental. They had no idea how long it would last... He leaned back in his chair and let a cloud of cigarette smoke drift into the air. The only reason he had even bothered injecting Mulder in the first place rather than kill him was that he liked the boy. In fact, he rather admired him. Yet admiration was no excuse for not getting the job done. He decided to take the easier alternative. Now, thanks to Alex Krycek, his plan failed and they didn't have Mulder at all -dead or alive. He could hear himself taunting 'You knew the consequences when you took the position.' "Damn it, Alex, why couldn't you just stick to the plan?!" He put out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk and took another from its box. Krycek should have been stopped the last time he took matters into his own hands. The trouble was, he had trained him so well that he had been difficult to find. This time, the Krycek problem would be eliminated. No excuses, no slip ups. * * * Krycek double checked the address written on a scrap of paper in his pocket. He decided to find Mulder before he and Scully came looking for him. God only knows what would happen if they did. She was sitting on her sofa when there came a soft knock on her door. She looked out and saw Krycek standing at her door. "Who is it?" she asked, although she knew perfectly well who. She just wanted to make sure. "Alex Krycek." "What do you want?!" "I just want to talk to you, I swear." She reluctantly opened the door and let him inside. "Is Mulder here?" Scully looked at him for a minute, full of distrust. "Yeah, I'll go get him..." He stood and waited for them to return in the middle of her living room. He had no idea what he hoped to get done by being there. Maybe find out a little about himself... His thoughts were interrupted by Mulder and Scully's entrance. "Okay, first things first. What are you doing here?" Scully asked suspiciously. "I'm not exactly sure myself... Just figured you'd want to see me, and I'm in enough hot water as it is, so I thought I'd come see you." He awaited their reaction, pausing for a brief period. " 'Hot water' for what?" Krycek grinned, then made a sound that could best be described as laughter. "Don't you know? Helping you, of course." "Why?" Mulder asked. "Because what your father was doing was wrong. I figured somebody had to make a stand." "Don't you dare call him that! He is not my father!" Mulder snapped, the shade of green in his eyes darkening with anger. "Regardless," Krycek continued, tossing Mulder's comments aside, " He had to be stopped, and it might as well have been me that did." "Do you know what they did to me?" "Not...exactly. But what I do know is that what they used on you was experimental, preliminary test at the most." "Is there any way to reverse the effect?" Scully asked eagerly. "I'm not sure. As I said it was purely experimental. It's been a while since he was first injected, so it may have done irreparable damage. On the other hand, it may not be very strong, considering it was only a trial." Neither Scully nor Mulder was sure if this was good or bad news. "You must be making good progress on your own if he already knows to hate his old man," Krycek chuckled. "But the brain doesn't work that way. You can't just go in and erase certain things..." "Not that you know of." "It's physically and scientifically impossible." "You want proof? Take a look at your partner." Krycek sat back, satisfied with himself, and sneered. "So what was the point in you coming here? You've told us nothing we didn't already know, and what you did tell us was vague at best. You haven't helped us." "On the contrary. I helped him escape - twice, didn't I? Besides, I need something from you now." Mulder didn't like the sound of that. "Like what?" "Protection." "Are you insane?! Protect you?! From what?" Scully demanded. "That smoking sonofabitch. Just make sure he doesn't find me. You'll be the first ones he'll ask. I'm going away for a while." They sat for a moment, taken aback. "Just make sure he doesn't find me," he repeated, glancing at his watch. "I gotta go." He stuck his head out the door making sure he wasn't being followed and left. * * * Dear Scully, We finally talked to Krycek, huh? I'm not entirely sure what to make of what he said. If the Cigarette Smoking Man does come looking for him, what have we to fear if we don't tell the truth? He still didn't explain exactly why he helped us, either. So what CSM was doing is wrong. That's never stopped Krycek before, why now? Once again more questions than answers. I don't know what to think. Should I be afraid? Should I be angry? I think more than anything, I am disturbed. I just don't know. F.M. He put down his pencil and looked at what he wrote. It was the truth, he decided, nothing more. What were they supposed to do now? The last lead they had was a dead end. He felt lost and frustrated. All the roads lead nowhere. Trapped might have been the word to describe how he felt. And it was enough to drive a person mad. At least, any other person. He sighed and lay back on his bed. He had so much to think about. And even though thinking did him no good, he couldn't stop. Sleep was a long time in coming... A very long time. In her own room, Scully was having trouble sleeping as well. She was concerned about Mulder. If the drug they used on him was experimental, there were many things to take into consideration. For instance, did they have some kind of vaccine? Did it do long term damage? She tossed on her side and attempted to push the worries from her mind. But they wouldn't have it. She stayed awake long into the night considering, worrying, and thinking. Around two a.m. she decided she was afraid. When she finally fell asleep, she was plagued by horrible nightmares, terrifyingly real dreams of Mulder being taken - these were most common - or worse. "Mulder!" He crept noiselessly into her room. He couldn't sleep, and being with Scully would provide some comfort. He lay down next to her, feeling the warmth of her body. She called out to him in her sleep. It hurt unimaginably to see her like that, a victim of her own mind. He touched her face, and whispered to her soothingly. After a few minutes, she stilled and, it seemed, resumed sleeping peacefully. They came and took him away. He screamed her name, full of fear SCULLY! Scullee! Then he disappeared forever "MULDER!" Scully's eyes flew open and she sat up. "Scully..?" he said softly. He recalled a night like this only a few days ago. Her nightmares were becoming more frequent. Upon seeing him, Scully burst into sobs and threw her arms around him. He put his arms around her, unsure of what to do. "Oh Mulder!" Scully cried into his side. "Shh, Scully it's okay... I'm here." "They took you away from me. I never saw you again... I thought you were dead!" Frightened tears flowed from her eyes, and Mulder was more confused than ever. He didn't have a whole lot of experience comforting people, and he wasn't quite sure how to go about it. "Here, sit up," he told her, making her look into his face. "Scully, I'm here... see? And I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He wiped her tears away and kissed her face. "There. You alright?" She sniffed. "Yeah, I'm fine." They sat back against the pillows, still holding on to one another, each not wanting to let the other go. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you too." Finally they both fell asleep. * * * Dear Journal, We talked to Krycek yesterday, which raised more questions , of course. There are so many things to keep in mind with what they used on Mulder. I was up all night worrying, as was he. When I did fall asleep, I had awful nightmares. Since Krycek was a dead end, I have no clue where to go from here... Maybe I should go talk to Skinner again. I don't know why he'd help us now, but who knows? She didn't have to go to Skinner, because later that day he called her. "Agent Scully, I'd like to speak with you right away." "Sir, what's this about?" she asked anxiously. "I'll explain later." And with that, he hung up. "Mulder, Skinner wants to see us right away..." She told him, frowning puzzledly. "What for, I wonder?" he replied, looking just as puzzled. "I don't know, but it sounded urgent." "Agents, come in." "You wanted to see us?" "Yes, have a seat." "I believe," came a voice from the back of the room, "that, whether you realize it or not, you know why you are here." The voice sent a shiver down Mulder's spine. He knew the voice, but not quite who it belonged to. Scully, of course, knew immediately, and the sound of a cigarette lighter was no small hint. "You know something that may be of use to me..." "We don't know anything! Why should we help you?!" She spat out the words as if they left a bad taste in her mouth. "Because you have no choice. If I wanted Mulder back bad enough, I could just take him. And if you don't tell me what I need to know, I will," CSM answered, looking at Mulder. "What do you want?" Mulder looked to Scully, a warning in his eyes. He knew that she was trying to protect him, but helping CSM was wrong, no matter what for. "Scully, don't," he whispered. She pretended not to notice. "What do you want?" she repeated. "Krycek," the Smoking Man said simply. "Haven't seen him." "I know he helped you before, Agent Scully. I think it would be only logical that he would come see you before he vanished." "I. Haven't. Seen him," Scully repeated slowly. "You can lie to me, but you can't lie to yourself if Agent Mulder dies - it will be your fault." Scully was silent, and her fear for Mulder was in her eyes. She looked to Mulder, and then at the floor. "We saw him," she admitted quietly. "He said he was going away. That's all I know." "He didn't say where he was going?" Skinner cut in. "No, Sir." "Agent Mulder, is that true?" "Yes Sir." "That will be all agents. You are dismissed." Scully looked over at her partner who looked confused. "That's it?! You...You call us in here to threaten us but you -" "Come on, Mulder," Scully whispered. "That will be all , Agent Mulder." "You can't do this, " he said pointing his finger at CSM. "I WILL stop you!" In response, CSM only sent a cloud of smoke in his direction. Mulder turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. "Mulder, what is wrong with you?" she asked him in the hall, her voice full of concern. "Nothing," he said, looking at her dubiously. "Mulder..." "How'd you expect me to act?! I'm supposed to show that - that scum respect?! He is a BASTARD, Scully, and I won't let him get away with it!" he snapped, suddenly very angry. "Mulder, I... Let's go home." "Yeah, ok." * * * Dear Scully, I don't know what's wrong with me. Ever since we saw Krycek, I've...I've just been so mad! Just... I don't know, the thought that I'm somehow related to that...that... it can't be true! He has my sister, Scully. I have to find her. I'm going to stop him. I'm going to find Samantha. I wonder how many other little girls they've kidnapped? I keep remembering things about her, and how they took her. It scares me. I want her back. F.M. He sat in his room rummaging through his things, for lack of anything better to do, when he came across a picture of a boy about 12 years old, and a girl about 7 or 8. "Samantha," he whispered, looking at at his sister who smiled at him from the photograph. "Samantha," he said again, a little louder, more confident. The longer he looked at the picture, the more enraged he became. At lots of things, he supposed, but what had been gnawing on him for the past few days was his loathing for the Cigarette Smoking Man. He had kidnapped Samantha, Mulder was sure of it. And he was going to get her back. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:11:32 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: VIII Revelation Source: xfc Scully looked up from her book, realizing that the house had fallen strangely quiet, and got up to investigate. He was curled up asleep, clutching the picture in his hand, a troubled expression on his face. Presently, he began to stir. "Samantha...Samantha... no, no, SA-MAN-THA!!" And then his cries gave way to weeping. "No...no...Samantha, I'm sorry..!" She couldn't bear to leave him like that, so she sat down beside him and attempted to wake him up. "Mulder? Mulder, wake up," she said, shaking him gently. "Scully? Oh my God,Scully, I dreamed my sister was dead! She's not dead, is she?" he asked brokenly, tears still sliding down his face. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "No, no, lay down. I don't know where she is, Love. I don't know..." "It's all my fault." "No it isn't. That's not true." "Yes it is. What if she's dead? I - I killed her, Scully," he stammered. She didn't quite follow, but he went on: "I might as well have. When they took her, I didn't stop them. If that bastard killed her, I'll..." He trailed off, unable to finish. The thought of Samantha being dead was too great a burden for him to bear. But he knew he'd have to confront it sooner or later. He had been looking for her his whole life, but it was in vain if he found her and was unable to face the truth. For now, though he would keep looking, and no matter what his dreams said, as far as he was concerned she was still alive. * * * Over the next couple of days, Scully noticed a change in Mulder's eating and sleeping habits. He ate very little and slept even less. She knew that his sister was troubling him, but she didn't know it was troubling him that much. He wasn't talking as much, either. He was a quiet person as it was, and now he was virtually silent. "Do you want to talk? It might make you feel better," she suggested one evening. "You haven't been sleeping." "I can't close my eyes. I don't want to see her like that again. Samantha didn't deserve to die like that," he told her, staring at his hands. "She was pale and cold... And she was so thin, like she had starved. I - I..." he stopped, feeling an onslaught of tears. He rubbed at them bitterly, but didn't continue. After a pause he said again: "She didn't deserve to die..." "You don't know that she did. This dream... it could be born of your fear that she is gone, but you don't know that." He was quiet, not wanting to agree, but unable to argue. He sighed and played with a thread that hung from his sleeve. "You're right... I just... I want to see her so bad, for her to be safe. I've been looking for so long, if I find her dead..." he didn't finish, shaking his head. At length, he drew a shaky breath and got up to leave. "Excuse me." He left, leaving Scully behind, bewildered and nervous. She hoped she didn't do more harm than good. Dear Journal, Mulder is troubled by memories of his sister. He had a dream in which he found his sister dead. It disturbed him, and he hasn't slept because he is afraid to have that dream again. I'm not exactly sure what I can do for him. The circumstance is similar to his earlier breakdown; lack of food, sleep and extreme depression. But this different. I've never been able to help him concerning his sister. I'm afraid this is going to take some time. * * * Dear Scully, I don't know where to start. I am miserable. I am so tired, but if I close my eyes, I see Samantha. I pray that she is still alive. I swear, Scully, if he did anything to her, I'll KILL him. I don't care what it takes, I'll get him. F.M. Mulder put his journal down and glanced back at his sister's picture. The residual image of his sister laying there dead was eating him up inside. He sat rocking neurotically until the temptation to sleep overcame him and he fell into a heavy slumber. Lightening zig-zagged, and thunder crashed outside his window. He sat up and smiled, then grabbed his journal. Dear Scully, I had a vision last night. Samantha came to me and said not to worry, that she'd be ok. I still don't know if she is alive, but I take this to mean that she is out of harm's way. That puts my heart at ease for a while. F.M. He sat awake thinking, listening to the storm raging outside. The wind whipped through the trees and rain came hurtling towards the ground. He wasn't sure what to make of his vision, but it seemed like a sign. He hugged himself and listened to the rain again concentrating on the gentle sound. Soon after he was lulled back to sleep. * * * He slept until late in the afternoon and when he awoke, he didn't want to get out of bed. His brain felt like it was tired, and he wanted for all the world just to sleep. "Mulder, are you feeling ok?" Scully asked from the doorway. "No." "Why, what's wrong?" She checked him for a fever, fearing he might be ill again. He turned away from her and pulled his blanket around his shoulders. "It's nothing, I didn't sleep well last night, is all," he grumbled. "Are you sure?" "Uh-huh. Just give me a little while, ok?" "No problem." She bent down and kissed him, then left, softly shutting the door. He sighed and turned over again, wanting to close his eyes and sleep forever. All those nights of not sleeping finally caught up with him. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. "Samantha." It was hardly a whisper, almost inaudible, the last conscious thought before he fell into a deep, deep sleep. Dear Journal, I am so confused, Mulder is still asleep - at four in the afternoon! That's all he's done all day. He won't get up, but he says he's not ill, just that he didn't sleep well last night. I do know that this is partly true, since he has still been having nightmares. But I can't figure out what would cause this. Maybe it is a side effect of the injection. I'll have to look into that. In the mean time, I will keep an eye on him and wake him up ever few hours. "Psst, Mulder, wake up." He rolled over and groaned, still more than half asleep. "Jus' five more minutes, Scully. Be damned if I'm gonna lose sleep for Skinner." She was puzzled for a moment, but then recalled how he used to have a hard time getting up to go to work in the morning. She laughed and continued to try and wake him. "Come on, get up." "Five more minutes." "MULDER." " Whoa! Don't scare me like that... Whatever it is, can't it wait, Scully? I'm so tired," he whined. "That's exactly what I came in here for, Love. It's not good for you to sleep so much. You need to wake up, at least for a little while." "Mph." He made a half asleep, but completely annoyed grunt, rolling over again. "Come on, baby, please?" He grunted again, this time going along with it and sitting up. "How are you feeling now?" "Ok, I guess." "You guess?" "Yeah, I guess," he replied groggily. She sighed running her hand through her hair, and decided that she didn't want to argue with him. "I'm up, now what?" To be honest, she hadn't really thought about what she was going to do once she woke him up. "I - I'm not sure...I, um...actually hadn't thought about it." "Well that's great," he said sarcastically, his displeasure evident in his body language. "Oh come on, don't be such a...such a..." "Jerk? Asshole?" he supplied. "Yeah, something like that." "Why not?" It wasn't an innocent question, or even a remark pretending to sound like one, it was a demand, oozing sarcasm and agitation. She decided that it had to be an after effect of the drug they gave him. He never acted this way - NEVER. What could it be doing to him? And why? She knew there would be tests that needed to be done, but he wouldn't go for it. She was amazed that she hadn't thought earlier to do any kind of an imaging scan, but on the other hand, she had been preoccupied... She sighed again, trying to sort things out. "Why NOT?" he demanded again. "You can't be serious..." she groaned. If he thought she was actually going to give him an explanation as to why he couldn't be a... He had another thing coming. Finally she decided they were both better off if he went back to sleep. "Listen, I'm sorry I woke you. You should get some rest." "Damn straight," he muttered under his breath before falling asleep within two minutes. * * * Dear Journal, I have noticed changes in Mulder's behavioral patterns. He is very irritable and as I said, constantly sleeping. I think I'm going to have some tests run - if he cooperates or not. This has got to be a side effect of the injection. I'm going to find out what is doing to him and why. I'm not sure if he knows what is going on or if he suspects... Scully put down her journal and her thoughts wandered back to Mulder.= She decided to make an appointment with a neurologist. How was she going to get him to go..? She had no idea. But she also had no choice. She got up and went back into his room. "Come on, let's go for a walk." "Mmm." "Come ON," she instructed. "All right." She figured that it would be better if he got up and got moving. "Aww, come on... I'm tired," he said, suddenly changing his mind. "It's not up for discussion. Now let's go." He sighed and heaved himself out of bed, slowly and deliberately putting on shoes and running his hand through his hair. They walked around the block, neither saying much, except some occasional small talk. After a while, Scully said: "You ready to go back?" "I've been ready since we left." He meant it to come out good naturedly, but instead came off as a snide retort. They returned home and he sat down on the couch. "Now can I go back to sleep? I feel like I'm gonna drop dead!" She smiled and sent him to his room. Dear Journal, Mulder continues to spend his time sleeping and it is becoming harder and harder each day to get him out of bed. I have come to the conclusion that this IS a side effect of the test. I'm going to talk to a specialist in neurology and see if I can get a little help. I've got to find out what it's doing to him. She ended her entry and sat deep in thought. She'd never seen anything like this before in her entire career in medicine. But then, it made sense that she hadn't. It was created by men with great advances in medical science and technology. Figuring this out was going to take some doing. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:12:43 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: IX Reactant and Running Shoes Source: xfc She picked up the phone and started dial. "Is Dr. Hamilton in, please?" she asked. "One moment." "Hamilton." The soft female voice of his secretary was replaced by Hamilton's strong masculine tone. "Ken, it's Dana..." "Dana, long time no see!" "It's been a while," she admitted smiling. "It sure has! How've you been?" "I've been good... Listen, Ken I need to ask a favor of you." Kenneth Hamilton was a long time friend of Scully's whom she met in med school and stayed in touch with over the years. An intelligent man, and a pioneer by all accounts. He specialized in neurology, which was still quite a new field. Little is known about the brain, and we are still trying to figure it out. Those who dedicate their lives to it are heroes, much like she and Mulder. "Sure, Dana. What is it?" Hamilton asked, sensing the urgency in her voice. "It's about Mulder..." She had told him about her relationship with her partner and had gone to him for support when they had taken Mulder away. "Anything I can do to help." "I want to run some imaging scans -- SPECT, MRI, and some tests." "I'd be glad to help you out." "Thanks." "When do you want to schedule them for?" She had been so relieved about getting this off her chest that had had almost forgotten to tell Hamilton WHEN she intended to get them done. "Some time next week... whenever's good for you." "Hold on a sec and I'll check my calendar. Fortunately when you're in neurology you don't get too may appointments." She waited for him to return, thinking about what she might find. "How's Tuesday and Thursday?" Hamilton asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Great. I'll see you then," she said and hung up. "Who was that?" She turned to see Mulder standing in the doorway. "It was a friend of mine. I thought you were asleep." "So I woke up. Big deal." "How do you feel?" "I sure do get tired of you asking that, but..." he shrugged. "Not great, I s'pose." "Why not?" "My head hurts, and I'm super tired." Scully made a mental note of his newfound headache and went on, "Would it be ok if I took you to see him? He is a doctor that can help me figure out what's wrong with you." He sighed, debating which was worse: being sore and tired, or being poked at and 'examined' by some quack. His headache intensified, and his muscles grew tired, and he decided that being sore and tired was worse. "I guess..." She was relieved that he'd agreed since she intended to make him go anyway. Why not make it easier on herself? "Good. We'll go over on Tuesday and Thursday." He considered this for a moment, secretly wondering Why two days? He thought better of asking and kept it to himself. He also began to wonder other things, in spite of his headache which told him to sleep, and think no more. Like who was this 'friend' of Scully's? How long had they known each other? Jealousy suddenly rose in his heart, unfounded, blind jealousy. What's the matter with me? he wondered. He knew better than to be jealous of Scully's aquaintences, she loved him. By now he knew there was something quite wrong, and hip needed to see what was the matter. "I'm hungry," he said suddenly, and Scully was relieved. He hadn't eaten and he needed to get some food in his stomach. "I'm glad," she said smiling. * * * Tuesday finally dawned, despite Mulder's many wishings that it wouldn't. Before he knew it, they were off to Georgetown Memorial Hospital's neuropsych ward. He was introduced to Dr. Hamilton, who seemed a nice enough guy, but a doctor none the less, and it didn't put him any more at ease. Imaging scans are, all in all a frightening experience. It didn't hurt, of course, but the machines made enough noise and all the sights and sounds that sparked evil memories were enough without physical pain. He bit his lip and tried to keep from doing anything to allude to his fear. He didn't like it one bit. It reminded him too much of the tests they did while he was gone to see if their drug was working. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying with all his might to keep up courage. She looked through the window, watching as pictures of Mulder's brain were taken, and it reminded her of her daughter Emily... She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. Mulder and Emily at one time was too much for her to handle. "Dana..." Dr. Hamilton's voice cut through her thoughts and she went to see what it was he wanted to show her. A black and white image of Mulder's brain appeared on a computer screen with nothing abnormal about it, that Scully could see. "There's nothing abnormal that I can see here," he said, confirming her thoughts, "But here..." he turned to another monitor, showing a SPECT scan, and Scully could indeed see that there was something amiss... "What is it?" she asked, hoping that the fear in her heart was not evident in her voice. "I'm not sure to be honest. I can't quite identify it, but there is something - some kind of reactant - that is producing different peptides, which causes conflicting emotions, and consequently tires him out. I can't figure out what would do that, it's like nothing that I've ever seen..." he said indicating towards a large orange mass on the rainbow colored SPECT monitor in Mulder's frontal lobe. She studied the image and then went to liberate Mulder. * * * He followed Scully back into the room full of monitors, rather intrigued by the prospect of seeing his own brain, but still terrified of the experience as a whole. He found the images very fascinating, but looking at what the drug was doing to him was also eerie and frightening. "What does it mean?" he asked Scully, a slight tremor in his voice. "We don't know exactly. But that is what's been causing you to be so tired." "How can we stop it?" "We're not sure about that either...It's like nothing we've ever seen." "Are we done here?" he asked, all too eager to leave. "Yeah. We'll be back on Thursday. Thanks for all your help Ken." "No problem. Glad I could help." Mulder was just glad to be leaving, and wanted to get away as fast as he could. He tried not to look hurried, but he was pretty sure it was obvious. He fidgeted and squirmed as he waited for Scully to start the car. She needn't ask what was wrong, and Mulder would probably feel better if he didn't. They drove back home in a complete silence, each pondering and rationalizing their own worries. Dear Scully, I am extremely terrified. What is this thing doing to me?! I didn't enjoy that at all, seeing what is inside me in a tangible form just added to my fears. I have so many questions now. Will it destroy my brain over time? Can it be stopped? How? Am I just a walking time bomb, waiting for the inevitable? I feel as if I'm being eaten alive. Scully, please help me! Make it stop. My head hurts, and I'm tired. I'm afraid that if I close my eyes, they'll never open again. I'm so afraid. F.M. * * * He sat in a moment of quiet contemplation, thinking about the intruder that had infiltrated his brain. It truly did terrify him. He had no idea what it was doing to him, it could well be killing him, and he had no idea how long he had left to live. Almost without thinking, and despite the lassitude that enveloped him, he pulled on his sweats and running shoes. "Be back in about an hour," he said to Scully as he moved past her to the door. "But -" she began to protest, she knew that his body wasn't up for running, so did he. Then she looked into his big, fearful eyes, and realized that behind those beautiful eyes there was a brain that never stopped thinking - and that could be dangerous. If it helps him, Dana, let him run, she thought. "Ok, but be careful." He grunted a compliance and took off out the door. He pounded down the street, his already tired body working furiously to keep up the pace he set for himself. So much to think about, if he just concentrated on his footfalls and breathing, concentrate on taking the next step, he could keep from listening to the voice of worry in his head. Eyes forward, inhale, exhale. No looking back. He wasn't sure if he meant while running, or just life in general. Both, he decided. He continued along his route, trying to curb his concern - not just for himself, but concern for Scully as well. God knows she was going through hell because of him, and it worried him to think what it would do to her if his condition worsened. His breathing quickened, and his fatigued muscles screamed at him to stop, but he kept going, never once breaking his stride. His heart pounded in his ears and his head throbbed, yet he continued on, an almost self destructive determination. Looping around the block, Mulder arrived back at the apartment building, out of breath, sides heaving and stomach churning with overexertion. He stood on the steps, trying to regain control before appearing for Scully and receiving a sound beating. Dizziness flooded him and his stomach sank to his toes. Turning to the nearest bush, Mulder proceeded to revisit his lunch. After a few minutes, He stood wiping his mouth on his sweatshirt sleeve, and drew a shaky breath, moving queasily through the door to the elevator. He paused outside Scully's door, leaning against the wall. He drew in several more deep breaths, preparing to meet his maker. Scully sure wouldn't approve, to say the least... From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:13:54 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: X Can't Blame a Guy for Trying Source: xfc "Oh my God, Mulder! You look like death warmed over, what the hell did you do?!!" So she wasn't eloquent, but when Mulder came practically reeling through the door, his face stark white and obviously nauseous, she wasn't trying to be businesslike. " 'S ok, Scully," he ventured, before collapsing onto the couch. "No, Mulder, you're not ok! What happened?" she asked, softening her tone. "Dunno," he admitted. "Was runnin'... got back, felt sick... hurled my lunch!," he wailed. She hid a smile, grinning at his dramatic woe over loss of lunch. "That's it?" "Yeah...got reeeal dizzy...tired," he added as his eyelids slipped shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly before almost completely losing consciousness. Scully looked up from the medical journal she had been reading on a new form of AIDS therapy, interrupted by the sound of rustling and stirring from the couch. Before she knew what was going on, Mulder was up and running. He moaned just before skittering into the bathroom and losing the rest of his stomach contents. "Mulder? You ok?" she called from her chair. There came no reply, and she assumed the answer was no. She got up and went into the bathroom, standing in the doorway. He let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a sob, and sank to his knees. She moved beside him, slipping one arm around his waist, the other around his shoulders, attempting to stand him up. His legs were like jelly,= his head swam and he had hardly any balance. "Come on, let's go lay down." "Oh, Scully..." he tried to grin lecherously, but succeeded only in producing a half hearted, sickly smile. "You feel any better?" she asked, ignoring his remark. "Noo," he groaned. He didn't like to admit defeat, but he knew that he wasn't going to win any medals trying to grin and bear it. Halfway between the bedroom and the bathroom, he stopped. "Come on, it's not much further." " 'M so tired , Scully. Feel like 'm gonna die!" "You're not going to die, love, just a couple more steps." He had pushed himself way past exhaustion, and his already weak body couldn't take it. "Not much farther..." Scully said, gently coaxing him forward. After what seemed like hours to Mulder, they reached the bedroom, and he crumpled on the bed, weeping with exhaustion. His limbs were gelatinous, and his stomach continued to turn somersaults. His eyes slipped shut and he fell into unconsciousness. * * * He slept for several hours, but rather than refresh him, it seemed to tire him out worse. He rolled over once feeling sick, too weary to get up and run to the bathroom, so instead disgorged on the sheets. "Scull-y..." he groaned, which brought her running. She paused in the doorway, seeing the mess he'd made. "Oh, babe..." She sighed and proceeded to strip the bed of its sheets. Scully then snatched a washcloth from the bathroom and bathed his face. She spread a towel over his pillow to prevent further mishap, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Jus'...wan' go...sleep," he yawned morosely. "I know, baby. Just relax." " 'S not fair," he mumbled, and drifted away again. "I know it's not fair," she said to his slumbering silhouette, and crept out the door. He opened his eyes, and flicked them around the room. He was in Scully's room... He tried to sit up, but his tired muscles wouldn't allow it. Closing his eyes, he let out a small moan. "Mulder?" "Mmm..." He was still too asleep and worn out to make words, and decided against trying to speak. "Welcome back." Scully appeared in the doorway, smiling assuringly. "Mph." "Anytime." He gaped at her, amazed she could comprehend that he had thanked her for the warm welcome. "How are you feeling?" He tried fruitlessly to make words that would form an answer, instead only slurring a string of consonants. "Don't worry about trying to talk yet. You're suffering from extreme exhaustion, you pushed yourself too hard, and your body can't cope." "Th..irst...y" His tongue was thick and clumsy in his mouth, and the word tumbled out oafishly in syllables. She got him a glass of water and he drank greedily. Letting out a small sigh, he sank back against his pillow. "H...urts. Can't...m...ove." "Shh, lay still. Close your eyes." She combed her fingers through his hair, a method she used to put him to sleep. "Ohh...Jell-O," he mumbled, meaning he felt like it, smiling weakly. Scully understood, adding, "Just as sweet," and he groaned, rolling his eyes. * * * She stood eying him critically as he slept. It had been almost three hours since he last awoke, and he was beginning to show signs of waking soon. She listened to his deep breathing and smoothed a lock of hair away from his forehead. He let out a pitiful whimper and Scully supposed he was dreaming.= Of what she had no idea, but then she probably didn't want to. "OUCH!" His eyelids fluttered and he moaned, but he still did not wake up. Scully wondered if she should wake him or leave him be. He answered that question for her. He opened his eyes just enough, and looked around calling to her. "I'm right here love," she said, moving beside him. He blinked owlishly, focusing on her face, and then tapped his cheek with his forefinger. Scully looked perplexed, so he repeated the gesture, and when he decided that she just wouldn't get it, he spoke. "Kiss..." She planted a kiss on his cheek and moved back looking at him. "Satisfied?" "Good...'M alive," he grinned. "Well of COURSE you are, I'm taking care of you, aren't I?" "Journal, please?" "Sure thing, baby," Scully answered, and went to retrieve his journal from his room. She handed it to him along with a pen and smiled. "Thank...you." Dear Scully, I feel terrible. I feel like I got run over by a bus, and upon seeing what he's done, the driver backs up to check on me, running me over AGAIN in the process! Too tired to write more... F.M. "Day?" he asked, putting down his journal. "Thursday." "Where's...time go?" he joked, smiling feebly. "Hamilton?" "I've postponed your appointment until next week. It helps if you're able to stand." "Nobody...perfect, Scully," he told her, trying to shrug. "Lemme up." "I don't think so...You should stay in bed." But of course he never listened to her, and continued struggling to sit up. "Here, give me your hand," she sighed. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, holding on to Scully for support. Finally he made it to his feet, and swayed holding his hand to his head. "Whoa, careful," Scully said grabbing his arm. He shook her off and took a shaky step. He wobbled his way out to the living room and thought he was doing well - until his knees gave out from under him and he fell onto the couch. He started to get back up, but she pushed him back down. "Sit," she commanded. "Oh come on...Scully... Been on my ass...two days," Mulder complained as he settled back onto the couch completely worn out. She brought him a glass of water and sat down next to him. "How do you feel?" "Horrible. How do... I look?" he asked grinning. "Was that rhetorical?" Now it was Scully's turn to grin. He wore a wounded expression and looked bewildered, as if he'd been slapped. "I'm just joking, love," Scully said, stroking his cheek with her thumb. If there was one place to hit Mulder where it counted, it was his ego. "You look great, just like always." "Thanks," he said sullenly, then drew her hand to his lips, gently kissing each of the fingertips. She climbed into his lap, and kissed his face. "Grr, baby. Very grr!" She smiled. He must've been doing a lot of thinking -- Austin Powers was one of the last movies they saw together. He practically dragged her to see it, but in the end she secretly enjoyed it. He reached up and touched her face, pulling her in for a kiss. She obliged, slipping her tongue into his mouth. After a moment, she pulled away, realizing what he had been up to. "Ah ah ah. Not until you're stronger." "Sculleee! That's cruel! I can assure you all the parts I need are in perfect working order." This time he was able to pull off his leer, despite weakness. "I'm sure it does," she said with a teasing undertone in her voice, "but as your physician, I must insist that you wait." "Come on Sweets," he said in a husky voice that drove her crazy, " are you sure you can wait?" He began to kiss her neck, something else that turned her on -- she started to wonder where he picked this stuff up. She supposed that after living with someone for so long, you don't forget their turn-ons. She had just started to succumb to his charms, when she sat up and gave him The Look -- the one that said one that said 'Knock it off, if you ever want to be able to do it at all.' "Okay, okay," he surrendered, taking his hands out of her shirt, where he had been moving his thumbs in small circles over her back, and raised them defensively. "I'm sorry... But you can't blame a guy for trying." . From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:15:17 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: XI Fear Source: xfc Dear Journal, Mulder has been suffering from extreme exhaustion. He woke up for the first time in about a day, and started putting the moves on me! I'm beginning to see hints of the old Mulder reappearing. I wonder if the reactant is wearing off in some way..? We'll know more when we go back to the labs next week. Oh my God! How stupid of me! I didn't even think to check if his medication was reacting to the injection. I'm not sure if I should take him off of it right away or wait... I can't believe I didn't think of that! She put her pen down and went to go find Mulder. "Mulder?" "Yeah?" "Have you been taking your medication lately?" "Yeah, why?" "Because I didn't think that it might react with the drug they injected you with..." He came into the room and looked at her puzzled. "What should we do?" "I'm not sure. I don't know if I should take you off of it or wait and see..." She saw the look on his face and stopped. Sheer panic. He bit his lip and looked up at her, eyes full of fright. "Oh, I'm so sorry, babe. I didn't mean to upset you," she said embracing him. "It's okay," he told her. "You couldn't have known." "I should have known better. I'm sorry." "No, it's okay," he said, though his voice clearly showed that it wasn't. "Let's go sit down." She didn't argue, only followed him to the couch. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Scully, stop apologizing. It's not your fault." She looked away, rather embarrassed, because she felt that most everything that had happened was her fault. "Okay?" he asked gently. "It's not." She smiled, even as tears spilled out of her eyes. "I know love, but I feel like it's all my fault. I love you so much... I don't want to hurt you." He put his arms around her, and she cried softly into his shirt. "Oh Scully," he whispered. "Don't cry." She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. She started to speak, but he lightly pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't. Don't be sorry." " 'Kay." "I love you." "I love you too." * * * The week passed quite slowly, at least to Mulder. Finally the Thursday of his appointment with Dr. Hamilton came around. He was afraid still, but he knew he needed to find out more. Scully peeked over at him from the driver's seat. He sat looking at his hands which were gripping his knees for dear life. He didn't seem to be there, he was somewhere else... "Don't worry, love," she said putting her hand on his. He inhaled sharply, and Scully grinned inside -- he thought he was so good at hiding it. He looked at her with an expression that said 'How did you know?!' "You're going to be fine." He smiled uneasily and then peered out the window. She sighed and kept her eyes on the road. She was worried too. She stood in the small monitor room, watching once again. Turning to Hamilton she said: "Ken, whatever this is, do you think anti-depressant would affect it in any way?" Hamilton pondered this for a moment, furrowing his brow. At length, he said: "I'm almost certain it would. I'm just not sure how.... Let's take him off it and see how he does." Scully watched Mulder through the tiny glass window, taking in the look of terror on his face, which he tried so hard to hide. "Whoa!" She whirled around to face Dr. Hamilton, who grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry for bursting out like that, but if you take a look at the monitor, I'm afraid you'll see..." She walked around to the SPECT monitor and frowned. The mass in Mulder's frontal lobe had at LEAST tripled in size and was spreading throughout the rest of his brain. "Oh my God," Scully breathed. "What does this mean?" "I... um, I don't know..." Hamilton answered, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "It looks like it's eating him alive!" she exclaimed. "If only we knew what 'it' is, we could try to stop it." "Oh my God," she said again. "How am I going to tell him? He was already so worried..." "Do you need a minute to yourself?" "Please." She sent him a look of appreciation as he slipped out the door. She stared at the SPECT scan a moment longer and a few stray tears slid down to the floor. She allowed herself the luxury of crying, then went to get Mulder. He sat staring at the floor, not really thinking, just studying the odd pattern of the tiles. He was startled by Scully's hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw worry and fear underlying her expression. She dismissed Hamilton's assistant, and looked into his eyes. "Love, there's something I think you should see..." "What's the matter?" he asked as she led him back to the monitor room. "This is the SPECT scan from two weeks ago," she said pointing to the image. "This," she went on, "is the scan we took today," indicating towards the mass that had metastasized. "It appears... to be spreading." Mulder's face remained impassive, his expression unchanged, and Scully knew that it had hit home. "Can you stop it?" "We don't know," she said, averting her eyes. "We don't even know what it is." "What's going to happen if it takes over my WHOLE brain?" Hamilton and Scully looked to one another and at various places about the room, not wanting to look him straight in the face and tell him. "You don't know?!" he asked, his voice raising with fear and bewilderment. "You mean it's possible that I may only have a month, two months, to live?!" "Babe, calm down." "NO, I'm not going to calm down, Scully. That's easy for you to say..." She stood stock still and stared him in the eyes. "I was diagnosed with inoperable cancer four years ago. It came from the men who kidnapped you. It metastasized and I very nearly died. Don't you dare tell me that I don't know what it's like." Mulder stood stunned, her words conjuring up images of Scully lying in the hospital dying. Skinner wouldn't let him in to see her... "My point," she went on, softening her tone and taking his hand, " is that we don't know anything for sure. Therefore, we don't know that you're dying. Remember what I told you about your sister?" "Yeah." "Good. Keep that in mind for me, okay love?" "Okay." He wanted to tell her more, he wanted to tell her how he felt, but not with Hamilton around... "You ready to go?" He smiled, I thought you'd never ask. "Ken, I can't thank you enough..." "No need, Dana. Anytime." * * * "Scully, I'm sorry...sorry about... I didn't know." "Don't worry about it, sweetie...I feel bad for getting so angry with you when you couldn't have known." "I know now. I had just asked you lie to the FBI. I came back to see you when I heard, after everyone thought I was dead. Skinner wouldn't let me see you..." He stopped for a moment, recalling exactly how it happened, and laughed. " I almost kicked his ass," and then he fell silent. Scully didn't push the issue, but left him to his thoughts. Dear Journal, We went to see Dr. Hamilton yesterday, and discovered that the mass the toxin had created in Mulder's frontal lobe had metastasized. I am afraid because I don't know what this means. If it takes over his whole brain, will he die? Mulder fears the worst and is very anxious. We (Dr. Hamilton and myself) have decided to take him off the anti depressants in case they are reacting with the drug. There is really no way to know if it is for sure. I am very worried myself, and this is a first for me -- something is wrong with someone I love, and I can't even BEGIN to figure out how to cure it. I'm so scared! Dear Scully, I don't know what to think. I feel numb. What is this thing in my brain? What happens if it gets bigger? I'm tired. I don't want die! That was what I was afraid of when they took me. I was scared that they were going to kill me. In all honesty, Scully, I am afraid of death. I know I've never shown it, and done things that one would think proves I'm not, but I am. I'm truly afraid. F.M. Neither knew of the fear the other was feeling - they knew it existed in both of them, but not how much was there. Over the next week Mulder grew extremely...Scully couldn't even think of a word to describe it. He was tired a lot of the time, and he was constantly in pain. It seemed to her that he had...faded. He just wasn't the same. Sometimes it was like he wasn't there at all. She wasn't sure if it was because of the toxin itself, or his knowledge of it... And she supposed there was no way to find out. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Mulder was asleep on the couch snoring lightly, his left leg trailing off the side. She looked at him for a moment, considering the neurotoxin that was consuming his beautiful mind. Such an intricate piece of art to be destroyed in such a fashion. Guilt overcame her, and she wept bitter tears she didn't know she had. By most accounts, she would have thought they'd been extinguished long ago. She felt responsible for what happened to him, but she found that she couldn't exactly recall the day they took him. Scully shut her eyes and tried to remember. It seemed so long ago... ** His apartment was empty, that day when she went to see him. There was no note, and it looked like he had left hastily. "Mulder?" Newspapers were piled in front of his door, and Scully took the liberty of feeding his fish. "Mulder?" The door, she noticed upon further inspection, had been forced open. "Mulder!" She called him a million times on his cell phone, but there was never any answer. She had to wait forty eight hours after she discovered he was missing to file a missing persons report. She did so, and waited for him to be found, to come home... waited... waited...** "Scully?" She gasped, feeling his hand on her shoulder. "Mulder, when did you get up?" "Just a few minutes ago. I, um...you, uh..." "I was just thinking," she assured him. "About what?" "It's nothing." "Scully..." He sighed. "Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm only asking because I care about you." "Are you okay?" she asked, not by way of changing the subject, but because that's what she was thinking. "Yeah, I'm fine." He put his arm around her and smiled. "Are you?" Scully mirrored his smile, snuggling into his side. "Yeah." * * * "Scully..." "What is it, love?" she called, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Hurts." He was speaking in only single words again, rather than sentences, so she knew he must be exhausted and in pain. "I know it does. Hold on a sec..." She took out a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol from the cupboard and filled a glass with water. "No, Scully," he called from the bedroom, "HURTS...more." His face was pale, and his body was limp with fatigue. "Sit up," she instructed, preparing to hand the aspirin and water to him. "Can't," he whispered hoarsely. "Too tired. Hurts." "Do you think you can make it out to the car?" "No." "Come on love, you need to try." "Can't." "Yes you can. Come on." She had no idea how, but she managed to get him out of bed, into the elevator and out to the car. "Sculleee..." She looked up. It was one of a number of breathless moans that came from Mulder's hospital bed. His condition had taken a turn for the worse at an accelerated rate, and whether he knew it or not, he was back at Georgetown Memorial again. He probably didn't, Scully figured. She knew it was only a matter of time before it consumed him entirely, but she didn't want to face the fact that it would. It was inevitable, yet unacceptable. "Sculleee!" He cried out for her, his mind a cell, entrapping him, growing smaller and smaller until it collapsed in on itself. She took his hand, not sure if he knew she was there or not. He probably didn't, she figured again. "Shh, I'm here, Mulder. It's okay." But even as the words left her lips, she doubted them herself. Would he ever be ok? "Hurts." The voice was softer, childlike, fading away. "It's okay," she said again, mostly to comfort herself as the tears began to fall. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:16:25 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: XII Guiding Light Source: xfc He lay on the bed, oblivious to all but the pain and his longing to see Scully. It seemed every time his heart beat, tiny daggers sliced through his mind. Nothing the doctors did could quell the pain in his head, and he almost wished he could die just to make it stop. "Scully!" The amount of strength it took just to say her name was almost too great to bear. But he needed her. Finally what little of his brain he had left decided that it was futile, and he gave up hope that Scully would ever hear him. He hung in between waking and unconsciousness, the pain to great, but his will too strong, neither prevailing. "Mulder?!" He had stopped calling out, and grew still. He wouldn't be able to withstand much more... She reached up and gently brushed a lock of sweat-dampened hair away from his face. "Hold on," she whispered, combing her fingers through the silken strands. "Hold on." Dear Journal, Whatever it is that was injected into Mulder by the Cigarette Smoking Man has finally taken it's hold. He is in the Georgetown Memorial neuropsych ward. No one knows what's wrong with him, or how to cure him. He used to call out to me, but has ceased, I am assuming because the pain was too great. I am at my wits end, I worry that any second he might slip away, but I long to find his salvation and rescue him from the grip of death. But I... She didn't finish her entry, too distraught to think about it anymore. She leaned back in her hard plastic hospital chair, and closed her eyes. * * * He was cold, floating in a pool. Sound was distant, hollow. He was in pain, but it seemed far off. He could feel it, he just didn't care. All he wanted was to sleep, sleep forever. It was so quiet here... He slipped further into unconsciousness, but a single thought brought him closer to awakening: where was here? Scully kept her eyes glued to his face, and she thought it might have been her imagination. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw him move. There it was again! "Mulder?" She whispered his name, almost unable to control her hope and excitement. He opened his eyes, heavy with lassitude once more, the beautiful green dull, and faded. He called to her with a voice that sounded worn, yet seldom used. "Scully..." His gaze caught hers and held for a moment, then the lucidity was gone,= and he slept. She wasn't sure if what had just happened was a good sign or a bad sign. It had to be good, she decided, because he woke up. He wasn't comatose yet...There was still a spark of hope. She kissed his somber face, hardly any sign of life left in him. His skin was pale and cold, and she feared he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "Please hold on," she pleaded, "I'm going to save you, I promise." Taking his hand, she put her head down and fought back the tears she hated so much. He wasn't going to die. Not here, not now. * * * Skinner stood in the doorway, once again in Mulder's hospital room. This time, though, there was little hope of recovery. He cleared his throat nervously and straightened his tie. "Dana?" She jumped, scared nearly half to death. She hadn't even known that she fell asleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Skinner said apologetically. He remembered saying the same thing to Mulder upon his awakening when Scully was out of town. "It's okay, I shouldn't have been sleeping anyway." "What happened..?" he asked gesturing towards the bed. "Whatever they put into him is taking over. It's consumed nearly his entire brain. Nobody knows what it's doing to him, or how to stop it, but he's in a lot of pain, and in and out of consciousness. They're afraid it won't be much longer..." Scully's voice was a mixture of anger, frustration and sheer exhaustion. "Why don't you get some sleep? You're dead on your feet." "I'm not leaving him," she answered haughtily Skinner thought for a moment, his focus turning inward. "Just a minute," he said, and left the room. A short while later, two nurses entered, and Skinner trailed behind, beaming at his own genius. In no time at all, they had a small cot set up that looked all too inviting. "Sir, I...I can't..." "You need to, that's an order, Agent. I'll keep an eye on him for you." She sent him a look of extreme gratitude and made herself comfortable.= She was asleep within seconds. Skinner sat next to Mulder's bed, his eyes fixed on Mulder but his concentration was elsewhere. Why hadn't she told him things had gotten this bad? How bad was it, really? Was he really going to lose his best agent? He sighed and put his face in his hands. One of his biggest questions was why? Nothing could be so dangerous to necessitate slow, painful disintegration of one man... His thoughts were interrupted by a low moan coming from the bed. Mulder was still unconscious, but his expression was contorted into that of a tortured man, and he continued to emit small moans. Drops of sweat rolled down his face as he struggled inwardly. Whatever this thing is, Skinner thought, it's got one hell of a temper. One more cry of intense pain came from the figure in the bed, and seeing the look on Mulder's face full of agony and anguish, Skinner went after a nurse to get him some morphine or something. Anything to make the cries stop, let Mulder rest for at least a little while. * * * The pain wasn't far away anymore, quite the contrary. It was first and foremost on his mind. All the sounds of things he couldn't see rose to his ears with an almost frightening clarity. Pain and sound were the only sensations he knew, almost as if the others didn't exist. He wanted to see her, to be able to touch her and know she was there. "Scully!" It was meant to come out as a cry of desperation, but when it left his lips, it was a mere rasp. "Help me!" This came out a little more forceful and echoed all around him. He sat down in the dark and wept. It was cold and he was tired. Why wouldn't they let him sleep?! He huddled in the corner, his salty tears making a strange dripping echo as they hit the cold floor. "Help me...Scully." "Mulder? Where are you?" Her calls sent echoes bouncing off the walls and all around her. She could hear him calling to her, sobbing. "Scully help me!" "Baby, where are you?!" "Sculleee!" "Mulder, where are you?" She couldn't follow the sound of his voice because it ricocheted and had no determinable source. "Help!" "I want to love," she whispered, "But I can't find you." She slid down the wall and sat, burying her face in her hands. "You have to help me find you." "Mulder?" Her voice rang out from somewhere across the vast expanse of darkness. "Scully, where are you? I can't see..." "You have to help me find you." "I can't... I don't...know where I am. I don't know where I am..." A sliver of light shone through the dark, a bright, golden light in the shape of a cross. "Scully?" He stumbled to his feet, following the light.= "Scully?!" He traveled for what seemed like forever, until the light grew faint. "Scully?! Scully, no don't leave!" He stumbled and fell, the light disappearing. * * * She sat up and rushed over beside him. He was still not conscious, but he looked to be troubled. Not in pain, but somehow distraught. She touched his face, cold and inanimate. There were little paths that ran down his face --= tear streaks. Were they reflexive tears caused by pain? Or were they something else? She reached up to her neck and unfastened the cross that hung there. Placing it around Mulder's neck, she kissed him and whispered "You'll be in my prayers." Skinner observed the ceremony, but didn't say a word. Scully's sleep had been troubled, and she kept calling out her partner's name. He wondered what significance the cross held between them... Scully pulled a chair up beside Mulder's bed, gently taking his hand. Skinner wondered if Mulder would make it out alive. He could recall numerous instances when no one thought he would pull through, but miraculously he did. Could any of this have been prevented? How much of it was his fault? He felt responsible. Skinner rose from his chair preparing to leave. There was something he needed to take care of... "Dana, I've got something I have to take care of. I'm going to be on my way." "I understand. Thank you for coming." "It's the least I can do," he replied. It was true. * * * The light came back, it's brilliance too much for him. He shielded his eyes against it, and followed as it led him. He stumbled blindly after it, hoping against hope that it would lead him to Scully, to safety. The light led him farther and farther into the darkness, his only sliver of hope. But the spark of hope died as the light did, and he was alone in the dark once more. She watched him, fearing that if she looked away, he'd be gone. He seemed every now and again to surface momentarily, only to slip further away than he was before. She sighed, trying desperately to hold it all together. She didn't want to lose him all over again. She could see the gold cross glimmering as his chest rose and fell faintly, and prayed silently for his safety. Skinner sat in his office, pondering. Krycek was a hard man to get ahold of, especially when there were others who wanted him dead. But he had a rough idea where he was -- just not how to get to him. Knowing what he did about how Krycek helped Mulder and Scully, he didn't think it would be too difficult to get him to cooperate. He just hoped that he wasn't too late. * * * There came a loud knock on his door, and he jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. "Da?" The man on the other side of the door muttered something unintelligible -- to a foreigner. That's why Alex Krycek loved the Russian language. No one would be able to figure out what you were saying unless they were fluent. Krycek responded with his own indecipherable phrase, which translated into "Bring him in." A tall Russian man accompanied by Assistant Director Skinner of the FBI entered and stood in the doorway. Krycek dismissed his man, and turned to Skinner. "Well, look who's come to pay me a visit." "You're a tough man to track down." "As I should be. Much safer that way." "I came to ask a favor of you," Skinner told him, his dignity never faltering. "You came an awful long way to ask a favor. I hope you're not disappointed." "It's about Mulder. Things have gotten worse." Krycek frowned. "Are you bullshitting me, Skinner?" "That crap they gave him is taking over his brain. He's in a coma at Georgetown Memorial as we speak." "Shit!" Krycek needed Mulder to survive, it was vital to his plan, maybe even to his life. "I should have seen this coming!" "What?" Skinner asked, incredulous. "He was remembering too much. They put a fail-safe mechanism into the drug. It was equipped so that it...knew when it stopped working. To prevent him from recovering with all his memories, it would kill him. Shit!" he said again. "Can you do anything about it?" Skinner asked, panic rising up through him. "I'll see what I can do. I'm not making any promises." "That's it?! I came all the way out here knowing that you had answers, and you're not making any promises?!" "I said I hoped you wouldn't be disappointed. I never guaranteed anything." Skinner gave him a cold stare and left. It was a long trip back to D.C.= and he was extremely pissed. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:18:18 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: XIII Catch 22 Source: xfc Dear Journal, He is dying. There's nothing I can do about it. How can everyone else just sit by and let this happen?! I'm not going to sit and watch as he fades away. I won't let him ditch me this time... Scully resisted the temptation to scream at anyone who came into the room: "Don't you see what you're doing?! You're killing him!" although just barely. They hadn't done anything for him, but deep in her heart she knew it was because they couldn't. He was almost perfectly motionless except for his ragged breathing and occasional spasms as he fought against the pain. He would seem surface back to consciousness, but then slip far away again, further and further. She sighed and pushed her hand through her hair trying desperately to keep it all together. She hadn't been sleeping for fear she would lose him. Though the sounds of the EKG told her otherwise, she still refused. "Mulder?" She moved beside him, taking his hand between her two small ones. "Baby, I know you are in a lot of pain. I know you must feel lost, but you will find the way. I am trying to find a solution. I'm going to help you, and we'll get out of this together, I promise. Okay?" Of course he didn't respond, only continued to breathe slowly and laboredly. She kissed his forehead and a tear rolled down her face, splashing onto his and sliding down. His eyes drifted open, though he was still not conscious, his beautiful hazel orbs a window into his soul. All the pain, fear, sorrow and suffering was visible in his unconscious, hazy eyes. His pupils were dilated, as if focused on some far off scene. Perhaps in all truth, they were... "I'm sorry," Scully whispered. * * * He could hear Scully's voice, ringing clear through the darkness. "...I know that you are in a lot of pain," she was saying. "I know you must feel lost, but you will find the way. I am trying to find a solution.= I'm going to help you, and we'll get out of this together, I promise. Okay?" "Yes! Scully! Scully, I'm right here! I can't get out..!" He stood, staggering to his feet. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Noo! Scully, wait! Stop! Stop!!" Scully spoke no more, and only silence remained. He fell to his knees and raised his hands to what he presumed to be the sky. "Why? Why don't you stay? Why can't I find you?! Why?!" His voice faltered, and he curled up on the cold floor shivering. It was so cold... Then all was lost, it was dark, and he could see no more. "Dammit!" Krycek paced up and down the room, trying to figure out what he should do. He couldn't go back to the States, the risk of being discovered was too great -- in fact, he was surprised they hadn't found him here. Or had they? At length he sat down and wrote a letter. Looking around, making sure no one was watching -- of course no one could see, the door was closed, but you never know... Taking a small key from his pocket, he proceeded to a cabinet and unlocked it. He took out a vial, looked at it for a moment, then dropped it into a manila envelope along with letter. Poking his head out the door, he called: "Dimitri!" Within minutes a boy about 17 -- Krycek really didn't know -- appeared in the doorway. He instructed Dimitri what to do with the letter, and above all, take extreme care. Dimitri nodded, petrified. He had no idea what Krycek would do to him if he did not do as he was told, but he didn't want to find out. "Don't just stand there, go!" Krycek commanded, still speaking the boy's native language. Dimitri turned and fled as fast as he could, fearing that if he failed his task he would be subject to the Black Poison test. There was a rumor going around that if you didn't follow orders, the men would beat you and give you The Test. He ran faster, fueled by pure adrenaline. "Stupid boy," Krycek muttered and shut the door. * * * "Why didn't you tell me it was programmed to do that?!" "I-I thought you knew..." the lab tech stammered. "I'm not paying you to think! How many times have I told you, I don't like being kept in the dark!" CSM snapped at the pale and deathly afraid technician. He had just learned of the drug's 'Kill switch' so to speak, and needless to say, he wasn't very pleased. "I only gave him the injection because I didn't want to kill him! If I wanted him dead, I'd have done it myself!" "I'm sorry..." "Apology is policy," he told the young tech before putting out his Morley and stalking out the door. He sat down and lit another cigarette. Why hadn't they told him the drug could do that?! Give people a little power, they think they're God. And as far as he knew, there was no antidote. That's just wonderful. He sighed and blew a puff of smoke into the air. Wonderful, he thought bitterly. The EKG bleeped slowly, the only sign of life. His chest rose and fell,= but it was only noticeable if you watched him carefully. Electrodes on his head monitored brain activity, which was like nothing they'd ever seen. He'd slipped into a coma, and it seemed every second he drifted a little farther away. Scully looked at the monitor, the scan hardly readable, even to a trained physician. She had little hope in anything now. She had prayed for his safety for three days, and it felt to her that he only got worse. She hardly ever wrote in journal, so great was her apprehension over Mulder. She presumed that it didn't need written down -- she would never forget. She sat almost as still as Mulder, her only hope for him to wake. She begged, she pleaded, she prayed, but he stayed under, stable in his instability. Scully wept all her tears and sobbed all her sobs, and now all she felt was remorse and bitterness. And she was in such a state when they nearly lost him. She had been reflecting on the events and thinking how much she wanted justice, revenge, whatever you'd call it, when his readings went all over the place. No one could figure out what set it off, but he had gone into seizure. Scully leaned out into the hall, searching for someone, anyone. "Little help!" A nurse heard Scully's plea and came to see what all the commotion was about. "He's seizing," she told the nurse. Apparently,= she had never dealt with anything like this before, because she had turned stark white and exclaimed: "Oh my God. I'll get help!" Scully raged inwardly at everyone else's incompetence, and did what she could to help him. A handful of nurses burst in and took over, and she let them without a fight, she was too tired and grief-stricken to do anything otherwise. They managed to get him under control, the seizure aborted. He was limp and barely breathing. His face was pallid, his skin cold and covered in goose bumps, his lips blue. Why was he so cold? She took his hand and placed it to her lips, kissing it as he had done to hers so long ago. "I am so, so sorry," she told his now almost lifeless form, her voice quavering. "So sorry." * * * She didn't take her eyes off of him from then on, she didn't think, just watched. She felt like it was all her fault. He almost died, and it was because of her. "Agent Scully?" "Yes?" She looked away from Mulder long enough to see a pretty young nurse standing in the doorway, holding a manila envelope. "This came for you," the woman said, handing her the envelope. "Thank you." Scully looked it it, unsure of what to make of it. The only identification it had was Agent Scully hand scrawled across the front. No return address, no nothing. She opened it up and took out a small bottle and a letter, which read: Agent Scully, I cannot explain the science behind this, or my reasoning, because I don't have time. Even as I write this, my life may be in danger. I pray that this finds you soon enough. It is a vaccine for what Mulder is infected with, the likes of which, as you know, has never been seen. If you want him to live, you must inject this into his I.V. You know how those D.C. quacks feel about injecting unidentifiable substances into their patients, so you must do it quickly and discreetly. It must be done within 24 hours of when you receive this letter. If you don't give it to him, he dies. I am sorry I cannot explain this further, and that I can give you no assurance that what I say is true, but for now you have to trust me - something I know does not come cheap for either of us. Good luck, and Godspeed. Signed, A. Friend Scully frowned, staring at the letter in disbelief. Who..? Why..? She looked at the name, particularly the period between 'A' and 'Friend.' A was obviously the first initial of the sender's real name, or perhaps not real name. One they went by, in either case. There would be time to figure out things like that later. 24 hours of receiving the letter. She didn't have much time. While she knew that if what this person said was true, and she didn't give Mulder the vaccine, he would die. But she also knew that it could very well kill him if she did. She took out her phone and called Skinner. She didn't exactly know why, it just seemed like the right thing to do. She waited impatiently, counting the number of rings. Time was of the essence... "Skinner." "Sir... did you..?" "Agent Scully?" "I'm sorry, Sir, I just got a letter that was somewhat disturbing. I was wondering if you... This vaccine, I..." She trailed off, not exactly sure what she was asking. It dawned on Skinner that he knew what she was talking about, and that he had practically everything to do with it. But he didn't want to tell her that. "I..." he stopped, not knowing what to say. "I would advise you to give him the vaccine," he said finally. "I... but if I give it to him, he might die anyway. I have no way of knowing if what this person says is true." "And if you don't, he dies. I would advise you to give it to him," he repeated. With that final order, he hung up. She gaped at the phone, confused and bewildered. That settled it, the decisive tone in Skinner's voice, and an underlying edge that suggested he knew more than he was telling was all the convincing Scully needed. At length, she found a hypodermic needle and filled it with the antibiotic, injecting it into his I.V. Now all she had to do was wait... * * * He tossed in his sleep, grasping for lucidity. It was right at his finger tips, but he couldn't hold on to. Occasionally, he would call out for her, say unintelligible things, or every now and again let out a tortured scream. She wondered how he felt. What it was like to be in so much pain. Once, he finally woke up. He opened his eyes, his bleary gaze drifted to her, and he muttered "Not yet, Scully. Please!" before returning to perpetual sleep. She had no idea what he meant by that, and she hoped he could explain it to her when he recovered. She dozed off thinking about what his enigmatic plea could've meant, but was awakened a short while later. By what, she couldn't guess, only a sense of urgency, that she needed to be awake. Next to her Mulder stirred, struggling to regain consciousness. "S...cully" He whispered her name, grasping at the sheets on his bed. She took his hand and it stilled, satisfied that it had found what it was looking for. "Here I am, Mulder," she soothed. "Right here." Her voice pulled him into waking, and he had the look of a drowning man brought to the surface, taking in newfound cognizance like a breath of fresh air. "You...save...me," he croaked, and closed his eyes, sighing. "Tired..'M okay, Scully," he murmured before falling asleep. This gentle slumber was far different from his constant catatonia. It was so much more peaceful, and he woke with the slightest sound. He would continue to say her name in his sleep and even though each syllable was forced and full of suffering, it was the most beautiful sound Scully had ever heard. He was alive. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:19:23 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: XIV Beliefs Source: xfc "Sunflower...seeds?" She looked over at him, trying her best to hide a rueful smile. " I...be on my knees...if I could. Please?" "Sorry," she said smiling, but feeling sorry for him at the same time. He wasn't allowed to do of much of anything, and his one simple request couldn't be fulfilled. "Doctor's orders, room service for the next week..." He rolled his eyes and groaned, already bored out of his mind after having been conscious for only half an hour. She knew he was due to fall back to sleep any time now. "What...happened?" he asked, looking at her with hazy, curious eyes. The last thing he could remember was... Christ, he couldn't even remember the last thing he remembered--if that made any sense at all. It did to him, and that was all that mattered. Scully could see that he was worn out, and didn't want to admit it. Telling that story was something best saved for when he reagained his strength. "Later," she said combing her hand through his hair. "If I tell you now, you'll just fall asleep, and I don't like repeating myself." "I won't," he argued, supressing a yawn. "Shh, don't argue with me, or I'll make sure you stay in the hospital," she warned, balling her hand into a fist. "Ooh, I'm scared," he mocked. "You should be," she countered. Mulder yawned again, signalling that the conversation was over. Just before he dozed off, he said, "I had the strength of your beliefs," touching the gold cross. She remembered saying the same phrase when she woke up in the hospital after her abduction, when Mulder gave back her necklace he had been saving for when she returned. "I had the strength of yours," she whispered. * * * She watched him sleep, taking in his peaceful expression and rhythmic,= shallow breathing. He was so beautiful. She took his hand and put it to her lips. "I thought I lost you." "I thought I lost me too," he answered in a sleep-slurred daze. He was recovering quite quickly, although he was still extremely weak,= and spent most of his time sleeping. His brain function was still abnormal as well, but Scully knew these things took time. She couldn't expect him to be well all at once. You can't rush a miracle, Scully thought. He vaguely remembered Scully saying something to him before he was completely out, and responding to it, but he was too far gone now too recall what he said. He prepared to settle into slumber, but a sharp pain in his temples jerked him back to consciousness. "OUCH!!" His eyes flew open and he put a hand to his head, hissing in agony. "You okay?" Scully asked, frowning. "Head hurts... what else's new..?" He coerced his lips into a small smile, letting her know he was fine -- well, not really, but he was alive so who was he to complain? He closed his eyes again, and he could feel Scully watching him. It was a good kind of sensation, though, warm and comforting.= He reopened his eyes to behold her beautiful figure, surrounded by a gentle glow. His angel. She was his guardian angel. Mulder sighed contentedly in spite of the dull throbbing in his head, and fell happily to sleep. * * * "He's alive? I see... Good." CGB Spender hung up and sat in contemplation, not knowing if this was good news. Mulder was alive, yes, but he wasn't sure if that meant that the injection didn't work, and Mulder was free to remember anything he pleased, or maybe that was all he was: alive. Either way, he decided, we're royally screwed -- at least for the time being. He decided to let it alone for now. For the present, they had to concentrate on finding the traitor. Something had to be done. This time Krycek had gone two steps over the line. Krycek ran around the room throwing things into a suitcase. He had no idea where he'd go, but he knew that he couldn't stay here or they'd find him for sure -- if they hadn't already... He hoped that Scully had gotten his letter, and not.. well, he cared not to think about who may have intercepted it. Best not to think about things like that... He threw a final piece of clothing in and closed the suitcase. He still hadn't decided where he would go, only that he had to get away. The advice he gave Mulder bounced through his mind; "You can't keep running." This was an exception, 'he who fights and runs away can run away another day.' Why do you remember stupid stuff like that in such inopertune situations? he wondered. Grabbing the suitcase and a small duffelbag, he locked the door and left. From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:20:57 EDT Subject: xfc: HLtT: XV Promise Source: xfc Little did Krycek know, he left just in time. In the neighborhood of about an hour after he left, his door was kicked open and the rooms searched -- illegally, no doubt -- by a handful of CSM's government goons who intended to find Krycek and beat the living crap out of him. Of course they found neither Krycek, nor any of his important documents. He was sneaky, not stupid. This was just what CSM expected of Krycek, so it came as no surprise. Although, he was not untouchable. He would make a mistake. Send out a few armed guards, threaten to blow off a few heads, and oh yes, people will talk. They'll tell you anything you need to know. It was only a matter of time... While Krycek's door was being simultaneously broken down, halfway across the globe Mulder awoke from a rather unusual nightmare, wide-eyed and shaky. It was not an unusual occurrence, in fact, it was how he woke up almost every time he slept. Not the same nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless, and this was no exception. Maybe a side effect of the antidote, he supposed. But damn, doesn't everything have side effects! Metaphorically speaking, it was a side effect of his life that caused him to wind up in this mess in the first place...Now that's confusing... "You okay?" Scully asked from her post in one of the hard plastic chairs that are always in hospital rooms. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his frazzled nerves and nodded. "What was it this time?" she asked, her voice gentle and sympathetic. Mulder said nothing, only pressed his lips together and shook his head.= Since he didn't want to talk about it, she didn't push the issue. He shuddered briefly and shut his eyes. The place gave him the creeps. There were times when all he could think about was how badly he wanted to go home...But they wouldn't let him leave. He was still 'under observation.' He didn't care what the purpose was, he didn't like to be 'observed' by anyone. And if he weren't still so damned tired, he'd walk right up to that quack and tell him so. Then, if he still needed some convincing, Mulder would be more than happy to let his fists do the talking. He sighed deeply and looked over at Scully, who was trying not to look nervous. "Cut it out, Scully, willya?" he snapped irritably. Instant karma; as soon as the words left his mouth, a streak of agony shot through his head. If the brain doesn't feel pain, why does my head hurt so much? he wondered. On top of that, he felt bad for being such a jerk to Scully. She only wanted to help and you couldn't take it , he scolded himself. But he didn't apologize. By now of course, Scully had gotten over his rudeness, and returned to whatever it was she was working on. She was always slightly hurt when he snapped at her, but she also understood that he was on some heavy drugs that could have severe mood alterations, and had accepted his mood swings. "What happened to me?" he asked for the in recent history. "What do you remember?" He considered this for a moment, mentally thumbing through bits of memory. "I ... I don't know... It's like it's there... but it's not." He shook his head: forget it. "When can I go?" he asked instead. All the frustration was gone from his voice now. It was replaced by weariness and resignation. "I don't know, exactly. I know you've been stuck here more than anybody should these past several weeks. I'll talk to your doctor and see when he thinks he can release you." He slumped back on his pillow and fiddled with his hospital wristband. There was something troubling him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He turned his arms and looked at the red, angry scars on his wrists where they had been slit in the attempt to end his life. And suddenly, he thought: What in the hell was I thinking?! What in THE HELL was I thinking?!! * * * What the hell was I thinking?! CSM sat in his office once again, going over his game plan, so to speak, when it dawned on him: Mulder and Scully! Surely they would know where Krycek was... Perhanps he would have to pay them a visit. But all in due time. Mulder was still not out of Georgetown Memorial, and he'd already been through quite a lot. Yes, Krycek could wait. Maybe the waiting and knowing of his inevitable condemnation was worse than the fate he had planned for the rat, but somehow, he doubted it. Better keep tabs on Mulder and Scully just to be safe. What they don't know can't hurt them, he thought and smiled, the glow of his lighter brightening his face more than any smile ever would. * * * Dear Scully, look, I can write again! So some of my letters are lopsided, but at least they look like letters... I really despise being here... You know, when you've come this close to dying so many times in the same place, that place kind of loses its charm. Maybe I'll be able to tell you this someday in person, but I had a hard enough time believing it myself, and telling it to this paper: I had a... I don't know, a vision, I guess that Krycek was the one who saved me again. It just came to me one day and it was so clear, like it wasn't even my own thought. Now all that's left to ask is why? F. M. Why? Why?! Why. How many times had they asked that question these past months? But it didn't seem so important to him now. He had just begun to accept it as a fact of life. It happened, end of story. Maybe *no one* will *ever* figure out the why of *anything* Or maybe some whys don't need justified. Or maybe still, they weren't really whys at all. Nobody knows, and nobody knows why. These were the thoughts - perhaps less organized at the time - that were going through Mulder's head shortly after the morphine started to take effect. But it seemed that he thought more clearly when he was doped up. It was good stuff too... Answer to all your whys until you woke up and it wore off. The end was coming soon. End of all the whys and questions the like, not the end of his life, just the end of a really long chapter therein. The end of Scully's pain and suffering at his hands, the end of all of it. He felt it was all going to be over. And he was not sorry in the least. * * * Scully leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. *I wonder how many holes there are in those tiles? It wouldn't be very hard to figure out. You count the number of holes in one tile, then multiply that by...* She shook her head. *God, I must be tired.* Her gaze drifted away from the tiles and over to Mulder, just as it always did. It was inevitable. He was asleep, his face peaceful, sleep perhaps his only refuge from the pain. Her eyes still stung with tears every time they fell upon him. He was stronger, yet still so vulnerable. He had been in the hospital more times in the past several weeks then anybody deserved to in a lifetime, and they had never figured out what was wrong with him. True, they cured it, but they never diagnosed the actual *cause.* He seemed slightly restored since the injection of the antidote, not healthwise, but... personality wise. He began to seem more like he was before they took him. He no longer had the empty look of a lost child, but what replaced it was almost as painful. He had the look of a man who knew the exact time and place of the apocolypse and the only question left to ask was why. She hated that word. Why. She had asked and continued to ask it about so many things. And many of those times, she did not receive an answer. Maybe some things weren't meant to be understood. Others, she realized looking at Mulder's slack figure in the bed, had too high a price. * * * Mulder did get to go home the following week, though he was on a very short leash. Pain killers constantly, no caffeine, lots of rest, no heavy activity. Rest was the hardest part. He had constant nightmares still, and sometimes was too afraid to sleep, despite his body's siren call. Other times, he would cry and call out like he had done when he was ill. Scully didn't dare wonder what went on inside his head when he wept in fear. Mulder was tough, and whatever he saw had to be quite terrifying to cause him such pain. The headaches didn't stop either. Especially if he was concentrating. All the same, she was glad to have him back. His mere presence was a comfort to her, and to know he was on the mend even more so. "Scullee! I'm bored. Can't I go out and shoot hoops, pleeease?" "Don't you remember what happened the last time you took things into your own hands?" she asked, shooting him the Death Stare. He bit his lip smiling ruefully and shook his head. "You threw up your lunch in a nearby bush and then came home and passed out from exhaustion." "Well, yeah...but..." He groaned and propped his foot up on the coffee table, which he knew Scully didn't approve of, but she couldn't keep him from doing it. After a few minutes the foot began to wiggle restlessly, causing the whole table to jump. Scully's clock chimed the hour, and the wiggling ceased. "Mulder..." "Aww, Scully, come on..." "Sorry," she said, handing him a pill from an orange prescription bottle, "Doctor's orders." He rolled his eyes and took it from her, leaving to retrieve a glass of water. This was a routine. She had a hard time getting him to sit still, much less take medication. But inthe end, he always relented. "Now sit down and hold still, you're making me nervous." He wandered back to the couch, and within a few minutes, he was fighting off drug induced slumber. "Know what, Scully?" he asked as his eyes drifted lazily shut, then snapped open in an attempt to stay awake. "What's that, love?" "I don't care anymore ..." "About what?" she asked curiously, using her hand to conceal a small smile. She liked listening to him talk when he was about to fall asleep. "Don't care why. Don't wanna know, hurts too much to...dwell on. I'm jus' gonna let it go...Idon' care... why." H e gave her a smile, little and uncharacteristic, but a smile nonetheless. "Le's make things diff'rent when I wake up..." "Okay... things will be different, I promise," she whispered. He probably wouldn't remember their converstion, sleeptalkers seldom do, but she would try her hardest to keep that promise. Epilogue *Dear Journal, Some time has passed since Mulder came home from the hospital, and since I last wrote. I still don't know what that bastard did to him, nor have we heard from Krycek. There have been a few physical drawbacks of the whole ordeal... They obviously did something to his brain, and some of that damage reamains - I fear permanantly. He has trouble explaining things, his thought process being so complex. He gets tongue-tied, and is forced to start over, or abandon it entirely. He also compulsively rubs the pad of his thumb over the knuckle of his middle finger, particularly when he's thinking, something I've never seen him do prior to this. It disturbs me deeply, and I wonder... But I just thank God to have him back. I am so, so thankful. And now things are different. Just like I promised.* THE END (fin) Thus ending Miss Heather's Opus.