From: Invisigoth1121@aol.com Date: Fri, 23 Jun 2000 20:00:38 EDT Subject: xfc: Hidden Lies the Truth pt 1A Source: xfc 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.