Title: Memory:  Restoration of the Mind 01/05
Author:  Daydreamer
Author E-Mail:  Daydream59@aol.com
Rating:  R - for violence and disturbing imagery
Category:  SA MSR but safe for non-shippers  
Archive: Yes, please
Feedback:  Yes! Please!

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are owned by Chris Carter,
1013 Productions, Fox Television Network, etc.  They are
wonderfully brought to life by David Duchovny and 
Gillian Anderson. I will make no profit from this, and 
neither will Fox if they sue me, for I am poor and have 
nothing material they can profit from.

Comments:  This is part two of a trilogy.  The stories are
connected and should be read in the order listed.
Memory:  Recovery of the Man
Memory:  Restoration of the Mind
Memory:  Reclamation of the Soul
Thanks to my X-Phriends Vickie and Kate, for help
on all the things that go into making a story.  

Summary:  Mulder is abducted, beaten, and given a serum to 
stimulate memories of the night Samantha disappeared.  Scully
finds him, tends him while he recovers, then helps him deal 
with new memories of that fateful night.

Memory:  Restoration of the Mind  01/05

"Shhh, sweetie, it's OK,"  Scully murmured into Mulder's hair.

Sweetie?  When did I start that?  Well, he hates Fox, and
Mulder sounds too - formal - for a man who is sobbing his
heart out like a six year old, his head plastered to your belly.
  
His good arm was around her waist and he cried softly into
her abdomen.  The sobs were quieting now, and all that 
was left would be getting him to let go and getting him settled in
the bed again.  She could cheerfully kill the nurse who had
come in and called her by name. 

She stroked his back, her fingers unconsciously playing with
the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck.  She continued to 
whisper soft sounds of comfort into his ear as his breathing
slowed and he began to calm.

When he had been quiet for a minute or so, no more silent
heaves, no more shuddering breaths, she tentatively pulled
away.  She was pleased to find that he almost immediately
relaxed his hold and let her go.  When they had first gotten
him to Roger Williams Medical Center in Providence, he
had been clingy, unwilling to let her go for a second,
never letting her out of his sight.  

Now, three days later, he was still insecure, confused, 
easily frightened, but he was better.  At times, he was
a lot better - almost normal.  She took his hand, 
reassuring him with her touch, and asked,  "Are you 
OK now?"

He nodded, then snuffled.  She reached around to 
the night stand and grabbed a handful of tissues.
She held them out to him, and when he didn't let 
go of her hand to take them, she gently wiped
his eyes, then held one to his nose and said,
"Blow."

He did and she finished cleaning him as best she
could.  His eyes were tightly shut, but his hand
still clung to hers.  She gently brushed the hair
off his forehead and kissed him there.  "Head
hurt?"

He nodded imperceptibly.

"Let me look."  He dutifully lifted his head and gazed
into her eyes.  Once again, the right side of his face 
seemed most affected, bathed in perspiration, the eye
itself bloodshot, the lid drooping.  He withstood her
clinical observation for half a minute, then closed his
eyes wearily.

"OK then, let me get you something for the pain, and 
I want to get a wash cloth and wipe your face.
You'll feel a lot better then."  She paused and
he made no move to release her hand.  "Mulder,"
she began.

He opened one eye and looked at her.

"I'm gonna need that hand."

His eye slowly traveled down to focus on their
two hands entwined in his lap.  He looked back
up at her and opened the other eye.  She could
see the fear and indecision in his hazel orbs.

"Mulder," she said softly, "I'm just going to the
bathroom over there."  She waved at the door 
across the room.  "I'll keep the door open.
You'll be able to see me the whole time, OK?"

He studied her for a long moment, then nodded
gravely, and released her hand.  As she rose,
she saw him tense, and she leaned back down
and gave him a quick hug.  "I'll be right back."

She walked quickly to the bathroom, opened the
door wide, and went to the sink.  She filled the
plastic basin with tepid water and grabbed a
wash cloth and small towel.  She was back in
60 seconds.  

"Now, Mulder, I need to go out the door and
talk to the nurses for a few minutes."  She had
hardly begun before he began shaking his head
vehemently - NO.  She shook her own head 
imperceptibly and backtracked.  "All right,
how about if I ring the button and get one of them
to come in here?"

His eyes widened in fear - she could hardly blame
him for that.  The last time a nurse came in she 
said the verboten word and caused his head to explode
in agony.  The very event Scully had hoped to 
*discuss* with the staff.  But for now, she just 
wanted to get some relief for her partner.

"I'll talk to them, Mulder, it will be OK.  We'll
ask for Janice, OK?  You like Janice."  She took
his hand again.  "Whadaya say?"

His eyes filled with tears, but he nodded a quick
'yes' at her before closing them and putting his
good right arm over his face.  

She pressed the call button and when a voice
answered, "Yes, may I help you?" she responded.

"Janice?  This is Dana.  I'm in Mulder's room and
one of the new nurses said something that upset 
him."  She looked over at her partner, face screwed
up in pain and fear, arm pulled tight across his eyes.
"Could he have a couple aspirin for his headache,
please?  And could you  bring them?"

"Sure, Dana, I'm so sorry about that.  I'll be right
in."

Scully stood by the bed and said, "Mulder."
He didn't respond.  "Mulder, I know your head 
hurts."  She reached out and took his arm and
tugged gently.  "Come on, let me see those
eyes of yours."  She smiled when he let her move his
arm and then opened his eyes to look at her.

"That's better.  Were you listening?  Janice is going
to bring you something for your headache."  She
dipped the cloth in the basin of water and began
to bathe his face, lingering over eyes she knew
were sore and scratchy.  He watched her every
movement, only closing his eyes when the cloth 
was directly over them.  She felt he was drinking
her in - feeding off her presence.

Janice came in and Mulder obediently swallowed
the painkillers.  Scully helped get him into a 
semi-comfortable position - no easy task with 
a arm immobilizer over his formerly dislocated
left shoulder side, a broken ankle, two cracked
ribs, and all the other various bruises, contusions, 
and abrasions that covered him.

She finally had him semi-reclined, propped on
many pillows and he was fast drifting off to
sleep.  His eyes would close, and then his head
would sag, and then he would jerk himself awake.  

"Mulder," she said.  "Shall I lay down with you
for a while?"  He nodded at once and she kicked
her shoes off and lowered the bed rail.  She climbed
carefully into the right side of the bed and took his 
right hand in her own.  She tenderly laid her left 
arm across his belly, below the cracked ribs, 
below the immobilized arm.  "Is this all right?"
she asked, afraid she had hurt him.

He nodded happily and pulled his hand from hers,
lifting his arm and putting it around her, pulling
her head and body even closer to him.

He whispered something, and she leaned forward
saying, "What's that sweetie?  I didn't hear you."

"You're my number one."  It came out in a cracked
and broken whisper.  "Thank you, Dana." 

"You're welcome, Mulder,"  she replied as she
gently stroked his face.  "Rest, now.  I've got you."

As he drifted off to sleep, she whispered, "You're
my number one, too."

****************************************

Scully hadn't planned to fall asleep, but the last few days
had taken their toll, and she was more tired than she
realized.  The next thing she knew a voice was whispering,
"Scully" in her ear.  She jolted awake immediately,
then looked to see if Mulder had heard or if her
movement had wakened him.  He was soundly sleeping
for a change.

"Geez, Sir, don't say that!"  she whispered angrily.
She carefully pulled herself out of Mulder's hold and 
rose from the bed.  Taking his arm, she pulled Skinner
across the room, away from the bed.  "You've got to 
remember, only Dana."

Skinner looked abashed.  "Sorry.  I forgot," he said 
in a low, apologetic voice.

"Yeah, well, you'd have been more sorry if he had
started screaming again."

"Again?"

"Yeah, again.  One of the new nurses called me
- well, you know - and he lost it."  Both of them
turned to look at Mulder, sleeping peacefully now.

"Look, Sir, let's step outside for a minute.  I think
he'll sleep for a bit longer."

They walked down to the small lounge area and
took seats.  "You want a soda or something?"
Skinner asked.

"That would be nice.  Diet."

Skinner looked at her, gave a small snort, and 
walked over to the machine.  He fed coins into
the slot, and accepted his booty.  He handed one
can to Scully, opened his own, and sank heavily
onto the couch.

"How was the trip to Mass?"  Scully looked up 
from opening her own soda, taking in Skinner's
expression, then said, "She's not coming, is she?"

Skinner shook his head, then sat quietly, "I just don't
understand it."  

Scully nodded knowingly, then lowered her head.

Skinner shook his head again.   "How is he?"

Scully straightened and put on her 'report'
persona.  "It's still early, but from what I have
observed, he's lost a lot of his memories. 
Questions of any kind other than innocuous
'how you feeling?' type things seriously
upset him."

She paused, organizing her thoughts.  "He
seems to know me, though not by Scully.  He's 
comfortable calling me Dana, knows we work 
together.  He responds best to you actually, Sir.
He seems most like himself when he's talking to
you.  So much of the time when I interact with
him, he - regresses.  I don't know what else to
call it.  He seems child-like, both in a need for
comfort and reassurance, but also in a certain
stubborn, no room for compromise kinda way."

She shrugged.  "I haven't gotten it figured out
by a long shot.  There were traces of  sodium 
pentathol, so called 'truth serum' in his blood, 
along with a whole roster of other things, some 
identifiable, some not."

"Refresh me on sodium pentathol," Skinner ordered.

"At an appropriate dosage, you get just enough neural 
inhibitory effect to create an alcohol-like disinhibition 
of normal behavioral restraints.

"At a higher dosage, but not high enough to cause 
unconsciousness, you may create a stupor and inhibit 
independent thought and action to a greater extent.  The 
result is the subject becomes more suggestible and less willful.  
A context for either recalling memories or constructing
new ones may then be created."  

Skinner nodded, and Scully resumed her summary.

"He screams in panic, his head explodes in pain if 
he hears my name, Scully, but he's fine with me, the 
person, and Dana, the name.  The pain seems localized
on the right side and there are attendant physical 
manifestations - perspiration, tearing, runny nose.  The
eye is bloodshot and the lid droops.  I need to do some
more research on this."  The last was said more as and
aside to herself than a comment for Skinner.

He made a sub-verbal "um hmm," and she went on.

"He cries, or whimpers, in fear and, I think pain, at the 
words 'doctor' and 'partner,' the former being tough to 
avoid in a hospital."

"And your overall assessment is . . ." Skinner prompted.

"I think someone has been seriously messing with his mind,
certainly using drugs, but probably also using hypnosis and 
other forms of mind control or brainwashing.   I think there
may have been some overlap with the old practice of using 
ethyl ether - there were traces in his work up - to aid in 
obtaining a psycho-dynamic 'catharsis,' which may or may not 
relate to actual events in his personal history.  The whole
procedure - if you can call what was done to him a 'procedure,'
seems to overlap with some aspects of the use of hypnosis for 
similar purposes."

"He's suffered serious physical trauma, but nothing severe 
enough to account for the memories he's lost or the sudden
phobias he's developed around certain words and names."

Skinner nodded.  "So what do we do?  Take him to
a reputable hypnotist and have him deprogrammed?"

Scully snorted.  "Is there a such thing as a 'reputable'
hypnotist?"  she asked.  She fixed Skinner with a 
serious look.  "He's the strongest man I know.  I
think whoever did this to him may have underestimated
him.  He's brilliant, driven, used to thinking in non-linear 
ways.  He may surprise us all and heal on his own.  I'm 
concerned about the headaches; I want to watch that closely.
But, I want to give him some time - and lots of support - to 
deal with this."

Skinner nodded in agreement.  "He does have that
incredible memory.  It may be harder to mess with than
imagined."

Scully looked at him.  "You didn't find anything at
the summer house?"

"Nothing.  Clean as a whistle.  I spent all day Tuesday and
yesterday there with forensics.  Whoever they were, they
were good, and they were thorough."

"Mulder expects to see you tonight."

Skinner nodded.  "What are we going to do about
getting him home?"  He stopped and looked
questioningly at Scully.  "Does he know where home
is?  And does he want to go home?"

"Asking him questions is still tough.  Sometimes he's OK,
other times. . ."  She shrugged.  "He may do better for 
you.  He seems to relate to you in a manner more 
consistent with his true self." 

She looked at Skinner.   "He's going to want to know 
where his mother is.  He knew you were going, and he's
asked for her a couple of times.  Mostly when he seems
most regressed."

"Shit."  He looked up.  "Um, sorry."

"Yeah, well.  I think you better tell him.  As I said, he
seems to be more mature when he interacts with you,
but just in case, I don't want to be the one to do the 
deed because he relies on me so heavily for emotional 
comfort and support."

Skinner nodded.  "All right.  I'll be the bad guy.  Anything
else?"

"Well, his doctors are ready to release him.  If he
lived in the area, and wasn't having these weird
mental problems, I think they'd have booted him
out yesterday.  I think we ought to rent a car and take
him home."

"Really?  So soon?  I'm surprised."  Skinner sat
quietly for a few moments.  "I must confess, I'd
be a lot happier pursuing this from DC.  I have
a lot more resources there."  He nodded.  "If
you really think he's ready to travel, then we can
leave tomorrow."

****************************************

Mulder woke to an empty room.  He had been
dreaming about - about what?  He couldn't bring the
memory up.  That had been happening more and
more often, about a lot of things, not just dreams.
He felt like whole pieces of his mind were missing.
And to listen to Dana, they were.

He looked around for her, but she wasn't in the room.
He eyed the closed bathroom door, then called,
"Dana?"  He waited a few minutes, then called again,
"Dana?  Are you here?"

When she still didn't respond, he could feel his
heart rate increase.  It was so frustrating!  Here
he was, a grown man, an FBI agent, and yet, not
having this one woman here sent him into a state
of panic.  He closed his eyes and tried to slow
his breathing.  As he lay in the bed, arm across
his eyes, another image came to him.  

He was lying in a bed like this one, and he was
injured too.  But he was just a boy, not a man.
He was crying and calling for someone, but they
wouldn't come.  The only ones to come were the
ones who hurt him.  He wanted to go home.

As he lay there, the present faded away and 
the image in his mind became more real, until
he was the boy in the bed, and he began to cry.

The boy in the bed was crying, "Please, I want
to go home."  He sobbed quietly for some time
before someone finally came in.  When the door 
opened, the boy looked up and immediately
took a deep breath and tried to stop crying.

The man was angry.  He was angry because 
the boy was crying.  Big boys don't cry.  But his
arm hurt, and his head, and he was scared and
lonely.  He missed his Mom, and his room, and
- something - someone? - else.  He wanted to
go home.  He didn't feel like a big boy now.

"Are you crying again?" the man roared.

"No, Sir," the boy lied.  He swiped at his face 
quickly and took another deep breath.  

"You are crying!  Look at me when I talk to you
boy!"  the man lashed out and slapped the boy.

The boy sobbed once, then took a deep breath
and held it.  When he let it go, he said, "I'm sorry,
Sir.  Please," he heard the whine creeping into his 
voice but couldn't help it.  He knew he'd be in more
trouble, but he couldn't stop.  "Please, can I go 
home now?"  A tear rolled down his cheek despite
his best efforts to control himself.

The man lashed out again. *SLAP*

"You will stay here, and you will do as you are told,
and you will answer the questions and stop acting like
a little sissy baby.  Do you understand me?"

The boy looked at the man, 'Look at me when I talk
to you' still ringing in his ears.  "Yes, Sir.  I'm sorry,
Sir.  I'll be good, Sir."

"All right, then.  That's what I want to hear."  The 
man's rough voice softened somewhat, and he reached
out and ruffled the boy's hair.  "Be good, help the 
doctors . . . "

The image faded away as he was abruptly pulled back 
to the present . . . 

". . . call the doctor?"  AD Skinner was talking to Dana.

She shook her head - no - then looked more closely at
Mulder.  "I think he's with us again."

She reached out and stroked his forehead.  "Are you
with me Mulder?"

"I'm sorry."  His voice had that little boy quality again.
"I'm sorry I cried.  Can I go home now?"  Tears filled
his eyes again, threatening to spill over.

Scully pulled him up and wrapped her arms around him
as he laid his head on her shoulder.  "Oh, sweetie,
it's OK to cry.  Everyone cries when they hurt, and I
know you've been hurt real bad."

He began to sob again, quiet little shudders and tiny
little gasps of air, not the huge wracking tears of
earlier, but tears nonetheless.  She rocked him softly
and talked soothingly to him.  

Skinner stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed and
watched them.  As Mulder settled down, Scully
began to pull away, but she was so tangled in his
arms, and wires, and tubes and slings, she was having
difficulty helping in him lay back down.  He was 
dead weight in her arms, offering no help whatsoever,
passively letting her move him.

Skinner stepped forward.  "Can I help, Sc - , er, 
Dana?"

"Yeah, just give me sec." She twisted to the left.
"Here, you support his weight . . ."

As Skinner reached out and wrapped his arms
around Mulder, so Scully could scoot off the bed,
Mulder looked straight at him and began saying,
"I'm sorry, Sir, I'm sorry.  I was bad, I'm sorry.
Please don't be mad at me.  I'm sorry.  I won't cry
anymore."

Scully and Skinner exchanged a quick glance, then
Scully said, "It's OK Mulder.  I told you, everyone
cries."

But Mulder's eyes were fixed on Skinner and he was 
still repeating  "I'm sorry, Sir, I'm sorry.  I was bad, 
I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me.  I'm sorry.  
I won't cry anymore."  A certain almost vacant
expression came over his face as he repeated his
mantra.

Scully looked at Skinner and nodded in Mulder's
direction.

"Er, well, that's quite all right, Mulder, it happens."

Scully rolled her eyes.  "Loosen up, Sir," she
whispered.  "He needs to believe you."

As Mulder continued to repeat the same phrases
over and over again, he began to grow agitated.
Apparently, he wasn't hearing the response he was
expecting, and his distress was increasing.  Though
his face stayed empty of expression there was 
obvious fear in his eyes.

Skinner tried again.  "It's OK, Mulder, really it's
OK."

Skinner was still holding Mulder and he began to 
toss, pulling away from him as his cries of
"I'm sorry" grew louder and louder.

Scully was talking frantically to him, trying to calm 
him, but his eyes were fastened securely on Skinner
and nothing seemed to break the connection.

Skinner began to talk too, a running stream of 
consciousness, repeating some of what Scully
was saying, improvising some on his own.  He
kept going until finally . . .

"Shhh, now, it really is all right.  Calm down
now son, it's going to be all right."

Something in there had been the right thing,
because Mulder visibly sagged, he stopped
pleading and the vacant look disappeared from
his face, his expression suddenly growing animated
as he shuddered and then jerked away from 
Skinner.  

He didn't get far, as Skinner had a good hold on 
him.  "Calm down, now, Mulder," he began.

The grown up Mulder looked at his boss, the
FBI agent eyed his superior, and asked, "Why
are you hugging me?"

Scully and Skinner looked at each other in complete
bafflement, then Scully let out a blast of laughter.
The stress of the last few days was just too much, 
and she finally gave in to the ridiculousness of the
moment.

Skinner began to chuckle too, as he gently settled 
Mulder back amongst his pillows.  He stepped away
and both he and Scully began to roar as they watched
the bemused expression on Mulder's face.

Finally getting himself back under control, Skinner
looked at Mulder and said, "It's a long story, Mulder,
but we've got time."

****************************************

Mulder was asleep again, and Scully and Skinner
were once more in the small lounge, this time sipping
coffee filched from the nurse's station.

"A flashback you say?"  Skinner asked.

"Yes, Sir.  I'm no mental health specialist, but it sure
seemed that way to me.  The vacant expression, fear
in the eyes, fixated on one person and not responding to 
anything or anyone else."  She stopped and smiled.
"What made you call him 'son' anyway?  He's not that
much younger than you."

Skinner colored, face flushing, the tips of his ears turning
bright red.  "I'm not exactly - experienced - with this kind
of thing, and I was trying to remember some of the things
my mom used to say to me when I first came back to 
the World."  He paused, his eyes taking on a faraway 
look.

"I had some nightmares that were real doozies for a 
while. It was real bad at first, got better with time.  My
Mom was a godsend - got me through the worst of it.
She was always there, but never pushed."

He looked at Scully again, and she nodded.  "I saw
a few flashbacks in Nam.  Now that you mention it,
it does seem like something I've seen before."  He
stood, putting his coffee cup on the table and began
to pace.  "But what was he flashing back to?"

"I think somewhere - somewhen - in his childhood.
I think he fixated on you as 'Father.'  I don't even 
want to think about what happened that had him 
saying those things."  She shuddered.

"On the bright side, though, remember what I 
said about his mind not working like everyone
else's?  About healing himself with help and support?"

Skinner had stopped pacing and was gazing
intently at her, listening to her every word.  He
nodded once, and she went on.

"Well, this may be the way he does it.  Dragging 
it all back out,  reliving it, and then putting it away
for good."

"But dealing with childhood traumas isn't going to
help him get his adult memories back."

"We don't know that yet, Sir.  Maybe whatever 
they did to him that impacted his adult memory,
also stirred up these childhood ones.  Maybe if he
works through the one, he can work through the 
other."

Skinner looked at Scully for a long time.  Her
eyes were bright with excitement and hope.  "Scully,
don't be overly optimistic about this," he warned.
"I don't want to be the party pooper, but I also
know that Agent Mulder has a long way to go
to return to anything close to his normal, pain
in the ass, self."

Scully smiled despite the warning.  "I know.
I just have a - feeling - that we're on the right
track here."

"Well, maybe we are."  Skinner stopped and
considered.  "Do you still think we should try 
to take him home tomorrow?"

"Yes, I do.  I think whatever is happening may be
less traumatic in the familiarity of his adult world."
Now she paused, considering. She studied the cup 
held in her lap, then looked up saying, "I want to
take him home with me.  I don't want him to be
alone, and I have the extra bedroom."

When Skinner nodded, she added, "Besides,
my place is clean."

End of part  01/05

Memory:  Restoration of the Mind  02/05

When Mulder woke this time, Scully and Skinner were
right there, seated in chairs on each side of the bed.  
Skinner was dozing and Scully was reading a paperback
mystery.

It felt late to Mulder, and he struggled to look at the
watch on Skinner's arm.  11:30?  As he shifted in the
bed to get a better view, Dana looked up.

"You OK?"

He nodded, then cleared his throat.  "Yeah," he croaked.
Dana immediately got up and brought him a glass
of water.  He took a couple of big sips, then said, 
"Thanks," in a more normal voice.

"How do you feel?"  

At her question, a flash of pain crossed his features, 
and he felt a lingering sense of panic, but he shoved
 it down and answered, "Better, I think."

"Are you up to talking?"

Again, the pain, the flash of panic, and he could feel his 
heart racing.  His mouth opened, but no sound came out.  
Dana must have realized something was going on 
because she took his hand, and said,  "Shhh, it's
all right.  No more questions."  She stroked his hand
in hers, and waited as he calmed back down.

When he was settled again, she said, "We need to talk,
Mulder.  All three of us."  She nodded in Skinner's
direction.

Mulder nodded too, and Dana pulled her hand from his
and walked around the bed to wake Skinner.  "Sir?"
She shook him lightly and his eyes immediately opened.

She stepped back and said.  "Mulder is awake and 
ready to talk."

Skinner blinked, then looked over at Mulder in the bed.

"Are you ready to discuss this?"

As Mulder's heart began to race, Dana stepped in and
said, "No questions, Sir."  She moved to the bed again 
and took Mulder's hand.  "No more questions."

Skinner coughed, then said,  "Sorry.  I seem to have a
knack for saying the wrong thing."  He smiled apologetically.

"It's OK, Sir."  Mulder smiled too.  "I don't know what's
wrong with me. I shouldn't get upset over stupid stuff like this,
but I do."  He shrugged.  "It seems to be getting better, isn't 
it, Dana?  The pain isn't as bad."

"Well, Mulder, that's what we need to talk about.  That and
getting you home."

"I can go home?"  Mulder's face had lit up, eyes bright with
excitement.  "When can I go home?"

"First things first.  Let's talk about how you feel first.  Rather
than ask you questions, I'm going to make some statements
and you tell me if they're right or wrong.  And if you want to,
if you can, you add whatever you think you need to, OK?"

Mulder nodded.  

"Now - you feel better physically.  You're still sore, especially
your arm, but you are feeling much better."

Mulder looked at his arm and nodded again.  "And my head,
Dana.  My head still hurts a lot sometimes.  But it's better
than it was."

"You can sit up now, without too much discomfort.  And
with the walking cast, you can move around with help."

Mulder nodded again.  "But my balance is off sometimes."
He gestured down at himself.  "Everything's on the left."

"OK.  You're doing great Mulder."  She smiled at him
then continued.  "You want to go home."

He nodded vigorously.

She laughed.  "Why does that not surprise me?"  At his 
pained expression, she quickly said,  "No, no, Mulder,
that wasn't for you.  No questions, I promise."

She watched as he relaxed back into the mound of 
pillows.  "One more on the physical.  Your breathing
is fine, despite the ribs.  You are not having any trouble
with that."

"Just when I have to cough or if I move too suddenly.
It's still a little sore.  But I can breathe OK."

"OK.  Good.  Now we need to talk about your 
mental condition."

A shadow crossed his face and she hurried to reassure
him.  "No questions, Mulder.  I promised.  And I'm gonna
be as careful as I can."

He nodded, but she could see the tension remained.

She shot a quick glance at Skinner.  He was sitting
quietly, taking it all in.  She couldn't tell what he was 
thinking behind his mask of impassivity.

"Now, Mulder, you are having a lot of trouble
remembering things."

A nod.

"You remember Skinner."  She nodded at the other man.

"Yes.  AD Skinner.  I report to AD Skinner."

There was a sing-song quality to his voice, as if he were 
repeating answers he had learned by heart.

"You remember the FBI."

"I work for the FBI.  I'm a field agent.  I work in VCS."
He stopped, a troubled look on his face.  His breathing
began to quicken, and he stared at Dana as he said again,
almost plaintively,  "I'm a field agent."

"Shhh, it's all right.  You're doing fine.  You do report
to AD Skinner, and you did work in VCS.  That's as
far as we need to go there."

Mulder was still taking big gulps of air, but as Dana 
kept talking he began to calm, his breathing returning 
to normal.  When he was settled, she resumed.

"You know me."

Mulder gave a guarded nod - yes.  He looked
troubled.  Scully was silent, willing him to speak, to
offer anything so she wouldn't have to ask.

Finally he said, in a low, tremulous voice, "I know
you.  You came to bring me home."  His voice was
breaking, and the breathing had quickened again.

His eyes filled with tears, and Scully shot Skinner a
worried look.  "It's OK Mulder," she said.  "You're 
right.  You know me and I am going to take you home."
She smiled at him and stroked his arm.  "You're doing 
great!"

But he was sinking again, falling into a place he couldn't
get out of that easily.  He looked at Scully and then
gripped her hand.  His eyes were bright with unshed tears,
and his breathing was uneven.  His whole body shook
as he said, "You always -" he winced as if in pain, then
shook it off, holding her hand more tightly.  

Skinner could see that Scully was in some pain herself
and he rose to come to her side of the bed, but she waved 
him back.

"I always what, Mulder?" she asked gently.

His whole body arched as a wave of pain crashed over him.
"You.  Always.  Come.  Get.  Me."  He spat it out through
clenched teeth, squeezing her hand so hard she began to 
worry he would break it.

Apparently Skinner had the same concern, for he reached
out and broke Mulder's grip, freeing Scully's hand, but holding
Mulder's in his own.  Scully stepped away and massaged 
her sore hand for a minute, working the blood back into
the starved digits, smoothing out the tortured flesh.

Mulder was waging some kind of internal war.  His
body continued to arch up off the bed as he groaned
and winced.  Skinner continued to hold onto him,
trying to keep him flat in the bed so he wouldn't injure 
himself further.

Scully soon stepped back to the bed and began to talk
to him again, but there was no response.  She finally
looked at Skinner and said, "You better try the 'son'
thing again."

He nodded, then said,  "Mulder, son, it's all right 
now."  Nothing happened.  Mulder continued to buck 
and shift on the bed, his face a mask of pain now, 
covered in beads of sweat.

Skinner looked at Scully and asked, "Now what?"

She shook her head.  "I'm at a loss.  Maybe we
better call for some help."

Skinner looked back at Mulder.  At Mulder.  Hmmm.
Parents don't usually call their kids by their last names,
despite Mulder's claims to the contrary.  He tried again.
"Fox, son, it's all right."  

Mulder body immediately relaxed and he eased back
into the pillows on the bed.  He opened his eyes and
blinked owlishly around at them.  When he saw Skinner
sitting on the bed, hands still holding him, he closed
his eyes and gave a sheepish little half smile.  "Again, 
huh, Sir? Guess this is becoming a habit."

Scully went and filled the basin and came back, smoothly
ejecting Skinner and sliding into his place on the bed.
She bathed Mulder face, chest and arms, wiping away
the fear and pain sweat, and murmuring soft soothing
words as she worked.

As she wiped his forehead for the final time, Mulder's
hand shot up and grabbed her wrist.  He held her, but 
gently this time, cradling her hand in his own.  "Dana,
what's happening to me?"

******************************************

It had taken some time, but they had finally gotten Mulder
settled down for the night.  They had ended any discussion
after his last *episode* and simply focused on getting
him to sleep.  Once asleep, Skinner had tried to 
convince Scully to go to the motel room he had taken,
while he stayed the night with Mulder, but she refused.  
Finally, about 2:30 in the morning, he had headed back.

The next morning had been hectic as well.  He had
rented an RV - small but at least it had a bunk Mulder
could rest in, and Scully would be able to move around
some.   He congratulated himself on the decision - it 
hadn't been thought out, but had just occurred to him
as he was getting ready to pick his two agents up.

He had called around and located a rental place, then 
turned his car in and picked up the RV.  Both Scully 
and Mulder had looked shocked when he'd pulled up
in the thing.

But now, two hours into the trip, he was sure Mulder 
was very glad to have a bed to stretch those long legs 
out in.  He had begun the trip sitting up with them, but 
had faded fast.  Scully had finally convinced him to go 
lay down, and she had stayed with him until he fell 
asleep, about two minutes later.

Now she was seated in the 'co-pilot' seat, and they had
a chance to catch up and make some plans.

"All right, Sc -" he began, then glanced behind him.
At the silence, he took a deep breath in relief, then 
went on.  "Sorry - almost blew it again."

Scully was chuckling softly.  "It is rather strange,
even to me.  It seems sorta, I don't know, out of
context."

Skinner laughed too, then said.  "All right, *Dana,*
what do we do now?  I mean, we can't seem to get
five minutes into a serious discussion with him and
it goes to hell."
 
Scully sobered.  "I'm not sure that this 'going to 
hell' as you put it is necessarily bad.  I do think
he's working through things, hopefully working
forward through them.  If he is, the clincher will
be how many things from childhood he has to work
through."  She sighed and pushed her hair back from
her face.  "I suspect there's quite a bit."

Skinner nodded in agreement.  "Gives you a whole
new admiration for the man, beginning to know
what he had to survive just to get here.  I mean, I
knew it had to have been bad for him, growing up
with his sister disappearing like that.  That kind of 
thing scars you for life."

"Kids can be cruel," he continued.  "I never really thought 
his parents would be cruel, too."  He looked over at Scully
gazing sadly out the window.  "Did you know, for a while,  
the local police actually considered him a suspect in the 
possible murder of his sister."

At Scully's outraged gasp, he added, "He was the last one 
to see her."

Scully shook her head, then unbuckled from the seat and 
rose.  "I'm going to check on him.  I'll be right back."

She walked carefully to the rear of the RV, where Mulder 
lay sleeping on the bunk.  His face and body were relaxed, 
and for once he didn't seem to be fighting any dream dragons.  

She stood looking at him for a long moment, then gently 
traced the curve of his jaw, smooth from his morning 
shave.  As she rested the back of her hand against his 
cheek, a single tear slid down her face and she said, "Oh 
Mulder, what did they do to you?"

********************************************

Mulder stood in the living room, Skinner's hand still 
gripping him, and looked around.  "Hey," he said
happily, "I know this place.  This is your new place.
Georgetown."

He looked at Scully.  "The commute was too much.
You just moved here from Annapolis."  He winced
and turned his head to the side as a sharp pain washed
through his skull.

"Mulder,"  Skinner was pulling him toward the couch, 
"Mulder, come sit down." 

His eyes were closed and he stumbled forward, letting
Skinner lead him and deposit him on the soft couch.
He leaned back, then laid his head on the back of the 
couch, eyes still closed.  He heard a kind of buzzing 
in the background - they were talking to him or about
him, he wasn't sure which - but he couldn't make the
effort to listen through the pain in his head.  

Before he could say anything, a cool cloth was 
placed over his eyes, and soft hands were stroking 
his forehead.  The buzzing slowly became decipherable,
and he heard Dana saying, "Mulder, come on, open
your mouth and take these."

He opened obediently and two pills were placed on
his tongue.  He swallowed and a glass of water appeared
at his lips.  He drank, swallowing again, then leaned his
head onto the back of the couch again.  Dana's soft
hand was stroking him again, soothing his brow, and her 
voice was still murmuring comfort.  He sat still for a while,
letting her minister to him, then slowly pulled himself
up to sit erect.  

The pain was subsiding - it didn't seem to last as long 
as it did when he first started having these spells.  It
faded to a dull ache, but it was always so hard to remember
what had triggered them.   He took the cloth from his
eyes and opened them, the right lid drooping again, to find 
Dana sitting next to him, Skinner standing in front of him.

They were both staring at him with concern.

"Mulder?"  Skinner asked.

He furrowed his brow.  Who else would it be?  "Yeah?'
he answered.

Skinner and Dana both gave a sigh of relief.

"You OK?"

"Yeah."  He cleared his throat.  "It hurts but
it's easing up."  He looked around.  "What triggered
it this time?"

"Apparently recognizing my new place." 

Mulder looked at Dana.  "Why would that bother
me?  I know you, right?  We work together - we're
friends aren't we?"

"Yes, we are, Mulder."  Scully sighed.  "It's hard
to explain.  Every time we -" she looked at Skinner,
"try to talk to you about what has happened and is
happening, we seem to trigger this 'pain reaction'
in you."  

She lowered her voice and took his hand.  "And
you are my friend.  I don't want to hurt you."

He nodded, the reached out and hugged her with
his right arm.  "Dana, 's OK, really.  I'm all right."

She stayed in his embrace for a moment, letting him
hold her, then gently pulled away.  "If you're feeling
more like yourself, Mulder, maybe we should try and
talk about some of this."

He nodded, then looked up at Skinner.  "Excuse me,
Sir, I don't mean to offend, but I don't understand.
Why are you here?"  At Skinner's rather startled look,
Mulder hurried on.  "I mean, I know that I'm missing
some chunks of memory regarding Dana, here, but
I do remember you.  And if I may say so, I don't
recall us having a relationship outside of the workplace.
He paused, then asked, "Are we friends, too?"

Scully and Skinner exchanged a glance, then Skinner
replied.  "Well, Mulder, we don't usually socialize, but
our relationship does extend beyond the normal manager 
and direct report."  He looked at Scully again and was
relieved to see her nod her head in encouragement.

"Our relationship has been adversarial at times, but 
only over method, never over results."  Mulder was nodding
in agreement now.  "We are working for the same thing, 
and," Skinner swallowed hard, and included Scully in his
next statement, "I trust you and I believe you have come to 
trust me."

Mulder stared at the older man, then nodded gravely, as 
if a serious concern had been allayed.

"Your welfare, and the welfare of your partner -"
Skinner paused as Mulder let out a sharp gasp
and lifted his hand to his eyes again, "sorry -
the welfare of you and Dana, is and will continue
to be of utmost concern to me."

Mulder nodded again, then asked, "So what happened
to me?  What is happening to me?"

********************************************

Skinner and Scully had spent the rest of the evening 
explaining to Mulder what they had extrapolated so far.

The confirmed use of drugs, the suspected mental
manipulations, the indoctrinated pattern responses
to certain questions, the pain and fear reactions to
other questions and certain words.  The flashbacks 
to childhood trauma, the seeming age regression -
from grown man to young boy.  And of course,
the gaping holes in his memory.

"And my sister disappeared when I was twelve?"

"Yes, Mulder."  Scully was frustrated.  Skinner had
finally left and she and Mulder were alone in her
apartment.  She was tired, and ready for sleep,
but Mulder seemed set to stay up all night.
"It was the defining moment of your life, I would
venture to say."

"And her name was Sam, you say?"

"Samantha, yes, you called her Sam."

"I just don't remember any of it.  Not having a sister,
not having her disappear.  Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.
Not a thing.  If you asked me about Sam, I would
have thought you were talking about a man, or
a boy."  He was obviously distressed, and growing
more so by the minute.

Scully shook her head.  "Mulder,"  she said, "we're not 
going to solve this tonight.  You've done really good at
talking about all this.  Let's not let you get all upset
now.  Please?"  She reached out and took his hand,
holding it in her lap.

"I'm tired.  I need to sleep.  Let's call it a night and see
what comes up tomorrow.  We can always go back
over anything you need to, OK?"

Mulder started to object, but then he looked more
closely at Dana.  There were the beginnings of circles
under her eyes, and she did look tired.  He looked
closer.  Actually, she looked exhausted.  "Have you
been sick recently, Dana?" he asked.

She shook her head.  "Let's not get into that now.
Tomorrow, OK?  I promise, we'll talk about anything
you want tomorrow."  She smiled.  "You better take
that offer while you can - I'm not usually willing to
let you pick the topic for discussion."

He smiled back at her.  He felt connected to this small
woman in a very deep, very real, way.  Concern for
her felt natural to him, like she was the most important
person in his world.  His smile grew.  Well, she *was*
his number one.

"All right, Dana.  Do you need any help with this?"  He
gestured at the glasses and plates spread around the
living room.  

She sighed and rose, gathering dishes as she moved 
through the room.  "Just sit for a minute.  I'm gonna 
stick them in the dishwasher and wipe up."

He heard the sounds of clean up from the kitchen, then
she came back to the living room, a damp cloth in her
hand and wiped up the tables before heading back to
finish in the kitchen.  When she returned, she had a glass
of water for him, and his meds.  He swallowed 
obediently, then reached out and stopped her as
she started to make her way back to the kitchen.

She stood looking at him as he lifted himself from the
sofa, then took the glass from her hand.  "Wait,"
he said, and he walked very slowly, very carefully
to the kitchen and put the glass into the dishwasher.
When he got back to the doorway between the two 
rooms, she was waiting for him, a smile on her face.

"Thanks,"  she said softly.

"No, thank you."  He reached out and hugged her.  "I
have a feeling I owe you a lot more than just cleaning
up behind myself."

She shrugged.  "That's what friends are for."  She turned
and they walked down the hall to the bedrooms.  When
they entered the smaller room, she helped him strip down 
to his boxers.  

"I'd really like a shower," he said.  

"I know, but not tonight."  She took clean underwear
out of his suitcase and handed them to him.  "Can
you change on your own?"

He flushed slightly, then said, "I think so.  Let me go
to the bathroom."

She nodded, then pulled his shaving kit and toothbrush out
and walked with him to the bath.  Placing his essentials on
the counter by the sink, she said, "I'll be right outside.
Call me if you need me."

He nodded and she walked out, closing the door behind her.

When he was finished, he hobbled out and, sure enough,
she was standing in the hall waiting for him.  He was pale,
his exertions had tired him and he was now ready for bed 
as well.  She walked with him to his room, and helped him
get settled in the bed.

"So why do I remember you - the person - Dana, 
but not that your my, um, that we work together?"
His mind unconsciously skittered away from the 
word.

"Hmmm - that's a tough one Mulder."  She sat
next to him on the bed.  "You're the psychologist -"

"From Oxford." he interjected in a posh accent, and
they both laughed.

"Yeah, well, you're the psychologist, but I have my 
theory.  Wanna hear it?"

He nodded.  "I always want to hear what you think."

Dana froze.  That was so like the before Mulder - her 
Mulder.  Her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey, are you all right?"  He was looking at her with such 
concern.  His hand came out and slowly reached up to
wipe away the tears.  "I'm sorry - what did I say?"

"Nothing, Mulder, nothing."  She brushed his hand away,
but gently, and smiled at him.  "You just sounded like - 
well, like you for a minute there."

"Oh."

"All right.  One theory - here goes.  First and foremost, I 
think they focused on removing me from your mind by
using my name as a catalyst."  She glanced sharply at Mulder
but he was calm.  "My name is the trigger for your worst, and
most painful episodes.  But I also think you have built me into 
two different places in your life."

He looked quizzically at her.

"Bear with me," she said, "I told you I'm no psychologist.
I think that the me they worked on, the name that is the trigger,
is the me that you work with, your - sorry - partner."

He winced, and she took his hand, then moved on quickly.  
"That's why so many of your work life memories are missing
or fuzzy.  They're associated with that me."

"But now, Dana, the Dana me, I'm the one you look to for 
friendship, for support, for comfort.  They either didn't know of,
or couldn't affect, that part of your memory, and your relationship
with me."

Mulder nodded, then turned their hands so he was holding hers.  
"And what exactly, Dana, is our relationship?"  His thumb stroked 
her palm and she shivered slightly.  His eyes were staring at her, 
into her, melting her, and she felt warm all over.

She shook herself mentally and said, "We're friends, Mulder."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the head, then
added, "Very good friends."  She extracted her hand, rose
and walked to the door.  As she turned out the light she
looked back.  He was still looking at her, his eyes dark 
with - no, Dana, don't go there.

She smiled and said, "Good night Mulder.  Sleep well."
and went down the hall to her own room.

End of part 02/05

Memory:  Restoration of the Mind  03/05

Scully woke to crying - not frenzied, hysterical sobs
but tiny little whimpers.  She threw off her covers and
raced to Mulder's room.  

He had managed to turn onto his right side, was
hunched up under the covers in an almost fetal
position.  Long legs pulled up towards his chin,
the heavy walking cast making a large bulge under
the comforter.  

His left arm was immobilized, but as she entered the
room, she could see his right hand peeking out of
the covers as it clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

"I'm not crying," he said raggedly, as another sob 
escaped him.  "I'm not crying, Dad, I'm not."

Scully experienced a moment of sheer panic.  He was
- dreaming? - having a flashback? - to something
that happened with his father - and Skinner was
home in his own snug bed.  She stood undecided for
a moment.  Should she try to wake him and risk sending
him more deeply into whatever terror he was reliving, 
or call Skinner?

She looked at her friend, tears still dripping down his
face, as he continued to assert, "I'm not crying, Dad.
I am a big boy."  Her heart hurt to think of the pain
he had lived through as a young boy.  How had he
managed to turn out as well as he did?

She turned and padded back to her bedroom and
lifted the phone.

Within a minute a gruff voice answered, "Skinner."

"Scully, Sir.  He's experiencing something that
involves his father.  He's upset, but not frantic,
and I'm afraid if I try to wake him, it'll just push
him deeper."

"How far is the metro station from your place, Scully?"

"About a block."

"All right."  She heard him yawn.  "I'll throw on
some clothes and come on over."

"Thank you Sir."  She hung up.  She quietly dressed,
then went to the kitchen to make coffee, quiet tears
and small sobs her accompaniment as Mulder continued
to fight his memories.

When Skinner arrived, he nodded to Scully and
went straight back to Mulder's room.  He walked 
over to the bed listened for a minute.  When Mulder
was quiet, except for the tears, he spoke.

"Fox, it's all right now son."

Mulder's eyes flew open and he stared right through
Skinner.  "Dad, I'm sorry.  I won't cry anymore, I
promise.  Please don't let them hurt Sam again.
They can test me - I won't cry, I won't."  His
voice broke, and he continued, "Please Daddy,
let Sammy go home."

Skinner and Scully stared at each other in shock.
A long moment passed as silence filled the room.
Mulder was obviously waiting for an answer.  
Skinner didn't know what the right one should be.
Finally, he spoke, saying, "Fox, son, no more
tests for anyone right now."  He reached out
awkwardly and hugged the younger man.
"No more tests, all right?"

Mulder nodded, gulped a couple more times, and 
his gaze began to clear.  Skinner stepped back and
Scully moved more fully into the room and over to
the bed.  

"Dana?"  Mulder asked.  "I - uh - did I have a bad
dream?"  His voice still had that lost youngster
quality, and Scully reached out to embrace him.

"Yeah, sweetie, you did."  He laid his head against
her shoulder and she rubbed his back for a minute
before lowering him to the bed.  "But you're all right
now, and I think you need to go back to sleep."

He nodded, then closed his eyes.  Skinner stepped to
the doorway, waiting, as Scully sat beside the bed
until Mulder was asleep.  She rose and they walked 
out to the kitchen, where she poured coffee for them
both.

They sat at the table and stared at their cups.  At length,
Scully said, "We found some files, you know.   Out in 
West Virginia.  Lots of files.  One on me."  She looked
up at the AD.

Skinner cocked his eyebrow and she nodded.  She dropped
her gaze to her cup again and went on.  "One on Samantha.  
Under the label with her name, was another name.  Fox 
William Mulder."  She lifted her gaze.  "They could have taken 
him first and erased the memory."

"Come on Scully, erased his memory?"  Skinner snorted.  "You
sound like your partner.  I know something strange is going
on here, but going back 25 years?"  He snorted again.  "Why
do this to him now?  Why risk stirring it all up again?"

She shrugged.  "Who knows?    I've come to believe
nothing is beyond these people.  Any tactic, any means, nothing
is sacrosanct when it comes to furthering their cause, whatever
that may be."

She shrugged again.  "Maybe Mulder found something, or saw 
something, something that made him a liability - more of one than 
he already was.  Maybe they just have a new drug or technique
and he was a convenient guinea pig.  Who knows?"

Skinner sat quietly, musing, as he slowly sipped his coffee.  
At length, he lifted his head and said, "All right.  I'm getting
more confused every day.  Let's go over what we know."

"One - he doesn't remember his sister.  Doesn't remember
having a sister or anything about her, including her disappearance.
Two - he doesn't remember you."  Skinner shook his head. 
 "No, that's not right.  See what I mean?  Confusing."

"Let's try again.  Two - he's been - conditioned - to experience
blinding pain when he hears - or thinks?- your name, Scully.
He experiences a lesser level of discomfort at the words
doctor and partner."

Scully interrupted.  "Let's go from there for the moment.  Why
would they want to make him forget Samantha and me?  
Because I think the goal was to make him forget me.  I 
don't think they realized how deep his - attachment - to me is."
She shook her head ruefully.  "I didn't begin to realize it
until this past summer.  His - reaction - to me throughout this
has made me even more aware of how much he needs me."
She paused thoughtfully, then added under her breath, "And
how much I need him."

Skinner cleared his throat.  "Well, um, yes, to continue.  He
is attached to you and relates well to you, looking to you for
comfort and support.  You're his emotional anchor it would seem."

She nodded, thinking of Mulder, and he went on.  "From his 
flashbacks we can conjecture that he had some very bad 
experiences with his father as a young boy.  Probably from 
around the time his sister disappeared."  Scully was nodding 
in agreement now and he asked, "Do you think we'll see 
more of this?  Be able to get a better handle on what actually 
happened?"

Scully nodded again.  "I'm afraid so.  I think we're going to
see a lot of things that have been buried for a long time."  She
gave her own snort of frustration.   "I don't know why whatever
they did to him had this effect, but I bet they didn't expect
it.  When we first got to the summer house, or maybe on the
phone before hand, he kept saying to me 'I learned all the 
answers.  I don't miss them anymore so I can go home.' or
something like that.  Maybe he just used that incredible mind
of his to figure out what they wanted him to say, and then 
fed it back to them, convincing them their procedure had 
worked."

She yawned then, and said, "This is getting more complicated
by the minute.  And all of this is just speculation.  We still
don't know what happened to Mulder, or what we need
to do for him.  I think we're just going to have to confront 
him with what we've seen and heard, and see what happens."

"Confront me with what?"  Skinner and Scully both
turned and looked at the door to the kitchen.  Mulder was
standing there, leaning on the door jamb, clad only in his
boxers and the arm immobilizer.  His hair stuck up from his
head and it was obvious he had just woken up.

Skinner reacted first, jumping to his feet and stepping to the
door.  He took Mulder's arm, saying, "Come on, Mulder,
you shouldn't be moving around more than you need to.  
Come sit down."  As he led the younger man back out to
the living room, and the couch, he thought how fortunate
it was he hadn't called Dana 'Scully' before they realized
Mulder was standing there.  Being awakened at 4:30 in the
morning to ride the subway across town was enough for
one night.  He didn't want to have to deal with a screaming
fit as well.  Though it might still be coming if Mulder reacted
badly to what they were going to share with him.

Scully had refilled the coffee cups and brought Skinner his,
while bringing Mulder a glass of juice and several pills.  She
went back to the kitchen, retrieved her own cup, and
joined them in the living room.  She sat on the couch with
Mulder, but at the other end.

"Confront me with what?" Mulder asked again.

"Not really confront, Mulder, but just let you know 
what's been happening.  You've been having some
experiences when you sleep that you don't remember
when you wake up."

He frowned.  "That's sorta become the story of my
life - full of experiences I don't remember."

Scully gave a little laugh and continued.  "Mulder,
I'm not an expert on this.  But I'm not sure there
is an expert that could help you with whatever has 
happened.  I think it is so far removed from the 
ordinary, that we're really very much on our own."

As Scully had spoken, Mulder had been watching
her, his eyes widening more and more as she 
continued.  "Why, I do believe you sound more like
me than you do like my rational, skeptical . . ."
He stopped and winced, a small sheen of sweat 
breaking out across his forehead as he took a deep
gulp of air.

Scully leaned over and laid her hand on his arm.
"Mulder?"

He shook her off.  " 'S all right, Dana."  He closed
his eyes briefly then looked at her.  "I should be getting
used to this by now.  It's like there are 'off limits' 
areas in my head."  He gave a little shudder.  "You 
try to control where your thoughts go all the time."

Scully nodded sympathetically, then rose and got
a damp face cloth for him.  He wiped his face
then folded the cloth and left it sit on his knee.

"OK you two," he began.  "Enough conspiring
about me.  Let's get this done.  I can handle it -
I'm a big boy."

Scully and Skinner exchanged a glance, then Skinner
spoke.  "Actually, Mulder, that's probably a good place
to start."

At Mulder's confused look, Skinner continued.
"Sc - er - Dana told you about your sister, right?
But you don't remember her."  Mulder nodded and
he went on.  "From the dreams and flashbacks you
are experiencing, we believe you were taken at
the same time she was.  Some things - we don't
know what - were done to you.  We think some of 
the same things were done to you while you were 
missing last weekend."

Skinner looked at Scully, turning the rest over to
her.  She said, "Mulder, you have these pain reactions
to my name - and to other words.  I - we - think they
were trying to condition you into forgetting me, 
as well as your sister.  Instead, it just seems to have
awakened some other memories that are struggling
to break through.  You're dealing with them in your
subconscious, but I think you need to bring them out
and deal with them consciously."

She paused, studying him.  He was gazing intently
at her, a half-worried, half fearful expression on
his face.  "I think it's going to hurt Mulder.  At least
I'm pretty sure it won't be fun.  But Mulder," she 
took his hand, "I don't want to risk having you 
completely forget me."

He looked seriously into her eyes, and she felt the
world drop away.  His voice was low and tender as
he said, "I could never forget you, Scully."

And then he screamed, clutching his head, and then, 
he passed out.

********************************************

Mulder lay quietly on the sofa, all plans to 'confront' him
flown out the window.  His eyes were closed, a cool cloth
covering them.  He wasn't asleep, but somewhere in that
lazy, hazy halfway place, where he was half-aware of what
was going on , but had neither the energy nor inclination
to participate.

"No," Scully was saying.  "No more.  This pain was too
severe, lasted too long.  We can't risk it - it may be damaging
him."  She moved to the sofa and he felt her hand removing
the cloth.  Whisper soft touches crossed his brow, then her
voice asked gently, "Mulder?  Are you awake?"

He murmured an affirmative.  "Hurt really bad this time, Dana."

"I know."  Her voice was soft, her touch soothing.  

"I don't know if I can do this if it's gonna hurt like
this."

"Shhhh,  it's all right."  She smoothed his hair, her fingers
lingering on his forehead.  "We'll think of something."  The
cloth returned.  "For now, you rest."

The sofa shifted as she rose, and he was left alone.  He could
hear Skinner on the phone in the kitchen.  "Sick leave for
Agent Mulder."  Pause.  "Yes, it's approved."  A bit snappish.
"I approved it!"  Definitely out of patience.  Kim must not
be there today.  "Look, just fill out the paperwork and put
it on my desk.  I'll sign it when I get in."  A sigh.

Mulder was almost smiling at the thought of someone actually
giving Skinner a hard time - and a temp at that.  Then he
heard him say, "No, Agent Sc -"  Mulder felt himself tense, but 
Skinner abruptly cut himself off, the continued,  "she is not on 
leave.  She is currently assigned to a case."  A case?  What case?
She's been with me for days.  "That information is classified."
Another pause.  "I don't know when I'll be in the office.  Just
cancel all my appointments and I'll talk to you when I get there."
Mulder could vaguely hear the click of the receiver being placed 
on the hook followed by another sigh from Skinner, this time
one of disgust.  "Useless temps," he muttered.

"I'm on a case, Sir?"  Mulder could imagine the raised eyebrow
that had to accompany that query.  "What case would that
be?"

"Pursuing information regarding the abduction and beating of
an FBI agent, and the subsequent actions that were taken against
said agent."  Spoken rapidly, with some anger.  "I've assigned a case
number to this.  If it was a straight forward abduction and assault,
I'd turn it over to someone else.  But given what we know so far,
and what we suspect, it certainly seems like an X-file to me." 

'So now I'm an X-file,' Mulder thought.  'Who'd have thought?'"
His head wasn't as bad now, the sharp pain receding to a dull 
ache, almost an echo of the original, fading with each passing
minute.  He rested, content to let Skinner and Dana hash things
out.  Mulder felt, more than heard, the alternating deep rumble and
softer alto continue in the kitchen and he drifted off to sleep
secure in the knowledge that, whatever happened,  he wasn't alone.

*****************************************************

"I want to take him to the hospital.  I'm worried about the
severity of this last attack.  I want a CT scan.  I want to be sure
I haven't missed something."  She paused then added, almost
berating herself, "I should have had this done sooner."

"It's not your fault, uh, Dana," Skinner said, with a 
quick glance through to door to the living area.  "Let
me make a few calls and then we can take him in when
he wakes up."

"Don't you have to go to the office?"

"Apparently, since Kim is on leave, and my temp can hardly 
find anything, and seems to know even less."  He grunted
in frustration.  "But I can go later, or tonight.  I think
you - you both - may need me for a while."

Scully nodded gratefully.  

"So, ignoring the obvious mental and memory problems, 
what do you think is going on physically?"

"Well, I originally thought it was an offshoot of whatever
had been done to him.  Do you know anything about 
headaches?"  At Skinner's negative shake, she went on.
"Vascular headaches, those suspected to be caused by the
constriction and dilation of the blood vessels, have been
shown to be affected through biofeedback controls."

At Skinner's confused look, she clarified.  "Controlling
the normally autonomic body functions through mental
techniques.  It can be used for controlling pain.  In Mulder's
case, I think he's been 'conditioned,' to unconsciously
use biofeedback to *cause* the headaches."

"Anyway - he has the symptoms of CPH - chronic paroxsymol
hemicrania.  Virtually unilateral pain, in the eye and temple area,
sometimes extending through the cheek and chin.  It is almost
exclusively found in females, but if it was induced in him, then
that could account for his condition."

She was in familiar territory here, discussing medical conditions,
and potential treatment.  "If this is what is occurring, then I can
treat it.  There are drugs I can give him, prophylactic to
prevent the attacks, and abortive to stop one if something
slips by us.  If he responds well, we should then be able to
pursue what's going on in his head a bit more aggressively."

She stopped.  "I just don't want to assume that this is 
all that's going on.  He could have a small subcranial
hemorrhage, a blood clot, an aneurysm, or any number of other
real, physical problems, and I want to rule those out
before we proceed.

Skinner had listened attentively throughout Scully's summation.
"All right then, let's make arrangements to get him in and
scanned this afternoon.  Will he need to stay overnight?"

"No Sir, but I'm going to need help just getting him to the 
hospital and back.  He's still weak, and all those injuries 
make movement hard for him."

"I'll be here, Scully," Skinner paused, chagrined once 
more, "Sorry - *Dana,* -  just tell me what you need."

**********************************************

Fox was scared.  He knew the doctors would be coming
again, and it would hurt.  He huddled down into the
blanket even more, his arms wrapped tightly around
Sam.  At least she was asleep.  She didn't cry as much
when she was sleeping.  Fox wished he could sleep too,
he was so tired - but he was afraid they'd come for 
Sam if he fell asleep.   If he was awake, he could volunteer
to go, and they might leave her alone and let her sleep. 
He swallowed hard and a tear slipped down his face as
he thought of what he was *volunteering* for.

Sam shivered and he pulled her closer to his chest, tucking
the thin blanket around her tightly.  He was cold, too.  
Both of them only had on underpants.  It was bad for
him, but at least he was a boy - boys went without shirts
all the time.  Sam might only be eight, but she knew
girls weren't supposed to be without shirts, and she
was embarrassed.

He didn't understand it.  When they had first gotten
here, they took them to different rooms and - did things -
to them.  It had hurt.  He had finally fallen asleep or
something and when he woke up, he was here, in
this little room.  With Sam, in this little bed.  She was
asleep then, but she was crying.  He had woken her,
then held her while she cried.  Whatever they did to
her really hurt - and she was just a little girl!  

She had just stopped crying when she realized she
didn't have on a shirt, and started all over again.  He
had on his underpants and a t-shirt, so he had taken 
his shirt off and put it on her.  He had tried to make 
her feel better, rubbing her back and helping her braid
her long hair so it would stay out of her face.  He had
tried to look at her, to see if she was hurt bad, if there 
were bruises or marks or something.  But she got upset
at him for staring at her, so he had just wrapped her in
the blanket and told her to go back to sleep. 

When they woke the next time, a big man in a white
lab coat was pulling Sammy out of his arms, and 
yanking the t-shirt off her. Fox had jumped up and 
yelled at the man, hitting him and trying to make
him let go of Sam, but he was just too big.  He had
pushed Fox down, and laughed, saying, "Don't be
so eager, little Fox.  You'll get your turn."  Sam
was crying and calling him, but the man just dragged 
her out the door.  When Fox got back to his feet 
and raced to the door, screaming for Sam, the door
was locked.  

They had come for him sometime later, and it 
had hurt - really bad.  He had cried and they
told him "Big boys don't cry."  Being here, alone
in this strange place, with only Sam, he didn't feel
like a big boy, but he had tried not to cry after that.
His Dad didn't approve of crying anyway.  But it
was really hard not to, because the things they did
really hurt.

When he had next awakened in the little bed with
Sam, she had been curled into a ball and wouldn't
wake up.  Even when her eyes were open, she
wouldn't talk to him, and she didn't even seem
to see him.  When the big man had come back,
he had jumped out of the bed and begged the
man to leave Sam and take him.  He had promised 
he wouldn't cry.  The man had laughed, then
taken him out the door, leaving Sam.

He was gone for a long time that time, and he 
broke his promise.

But they hadn't bothered Sam, and when he came
back, there was some food in the room, and she
let him feed her some.  She drank some water,
and said, "Thank you, Fox."  He was tired, and
sore, and scared, but he knew Sam needed him.
When he sat on the bed, she crawled into his 
lap and laid her head on his shoulder.  He tucked
the blanket around her, and rocked her til she 
fell asleep.

As he sat there on the small bed, rocking his sister
gently, he realized he was going to cry again.  It
was all so unfair.  He didn't understand any of it!
Why were they here?  What was the point of all these
*tests* they were doing that hurt so much?  He
missed his Mom and he wanted to go home.  As he 
rocked his sleeping sister, tears rolling down his face,
he whispered, "I don't want to be a big boy anymore."

*******************************************

"I don't want to be a big boy anymore.  I don't want 
to be a big boy anymore.  I don't want to be a big boy 
anymore."

"Mulder?  Come on, Mulder, you need to wake up."

He was rocking back and forth on the couch, tears
rolling down his face as he chanted over and over, 
"I don't want to be a big boy anymore.  I don't want 
to be a big boy anymore.  I don't want to be a big boy 
anymore."

Scully turned to Skinner, standing behind her, "I don't 
know, Sir, I don't seem to be getting through.  Maybe
you better try."

Skinner stepped forward and touched Mulder's shoulder.
When the man immediately stopped his rocking, he took
it as a positive sign.  The tears continued however, as did 
the chant.  

"I don't want to be a big boy anymore.  I don't want 
to be a big boy anymore.  I don't want to be a big boy 
anymore."

"All right, Fox," Skinner said gently, "You don't have to 
be a big boy anymore.  It's all right now."

Mulder's eyes cleared and he began to focus in Skinner's
direction, looking at him, but not seeing him.  "I want my
Mom," he said.  "Where's my Mom?"

Skinner looked to Scully for assistance, but she shrugged.
Skinner turned back to Mulder - but which Mulder was this?
The man, the adolescent, or the boy?  "Fox?" he asked.
"How old are you?"  Scully nodded approvingly.

"Twelve," came the immediate response.  He sounded
calmer, a bit more in control, and the tears had stopped.
"Well, Fox, your Mom can't be here now.  She, uh, 
hasn't been feeling well and she can't travel."

"I don't want to be here anymore.  I want to go home."

Scully was scribbling on a piece of paper.  She passed
it to Skinner and he read, "Where are you, Fox?"

The man before them began to cry again.  "Here, in
this place.  I don't like it here."  His voice was growing 
louder, and his body shook.  "I want to go home,"  he 
wailed.

Scully reached out and pulled him to herself without 
even thinking.  She began to soothe him, murmuring
assurances, kissing his head, and rocking him gently.

"Shhh, it's OK now sweetie.  It's OK.  You're safe.
No one's going to hurt you.  It's all right."  She rocked
him for long minutes as his sobbing quieted and the
tears ceased.  Finally, he was leaning against her,
his arm around her waist, silent but for soft breathing
as she slowly swayed from side to side.  The gentle
movement had calmed him and she still spoke softly,
her mouth brushing his hair.

"Shhh, now, it's all right.  No more hurts.  It's over.
You're home now, sweetie.   It's all right, you're
home now."

He lifted his head slowly and looked at her, the man
Mulder, confused, unsure, but very much a man, and
said, "What did you say, Dana?"

Scully looked down and saw the change in his eyes.
This wasn't a scared little boy anymore, but a grown
man, a man who wanted to understand the complex
relationship they had, but that he couldn't remember.

She looked at him and saw he was waiting.  She glanced 
at Skinner.  No help there.  He had the slightest hint of 
an almost smile on his lips.  Traitor.  She looked again 
at the man nestled trustingly against her.  

Her friend, her best friend, the man who had been willing
to do anything, go anywhere for her.  The man who had
almost been destroyed when he thought she was dying.  
The man who had risked everything to save her time and
time again.  The man who stirred up deep and confusing 
emotions in the reaches of her heart and soul.  

She looked at this man and said,  "You are home, Mulder.
You are home."

End of part 03/05

Memory:  Restoration of the Mind  04/05

The ride to Georgetown Medical was uneventful.
Skinner drove Scully's car, and she sat in the back
with Mulder.  He was better, the lingering head pain 
subsided, his right eye looking clearer.

Skinner had worked through the medical support
staff at the Hoover building to have Mulder cleared
for immediate processing.  They wanted to get the
scans done, and get him back to Scully's place.  Neither
he nor Scully wanted to risk another episode like the
last one.  And if it happened in the hospital, they
might never get Mulder out again.  

When they arrived, they were met by an orderly with
a gurney.  Mulder groaned.  "A gurney?  Come on,
Dana, at least make them get me a wheelchair," he whined.

She laughed and said, "Fox Mulder, asking for 
a wheelchair!  I never thought I'd hear that!  Next
time you're fighting me over using a wheelchair, I'll 
remember this, and just tell them to bring a gurney!"

"Ha ha.  No fair.  Anyway, at least you can remember,"
he grumbled.

Scully turned serious and looked at him,  "You'll 
remember too, Mulder.  You'll remember everything.
Just try to be patient."

He grumbled again, "If I *remember* correctly, patience
isn't my strong suit."  Then he relaxed and smiled at
her.  "But I'll try."

Skinner opened the back door and helped Mulder out,
as Scully slipped from her side.  They helped Mulder 
over to the gurney and got him on it and situated
comfortably.  The orderly asked Mulder his name,  
looked down at a bulky chart he was holding, then slid
it into a pocket at the head of the gurney.  He released the
wheel locks, placed both hands on the guide, and began 
pushing  Mulder through the doors back into the hospital.

 Skinner called, "I'll park and meet you inside.  Where?"

Scully was following the orderly and asked, "Where is
he going first?"

"CT, then the MRI."  He was still pushing Mulder down
the hall.  Getting further away from her and Skinner.  
"Wait a minute," she ordered.

"Can't Ma'am.  They've held everybody up to get him 
in.  I'm to take him there immediately."  He was still
moving away, further down the hall.

Scully was torn, to follow, or to tell Skinner where
they'd be.  She waved to Skinner - wait a minute -
then ran after Mulder.

Mulder was getting concerned.  "Dana - aren't you coming?"

"I am, Mulder, I'll be there,"  she called.  "Orderly, wait 
a minute."  Reluctantly, he stopped and waited as she caught 
up.  "Mulder, I need to tell Skinner where we are."

The orderly interrupted.  "Someone's got to do his
paperwork, too," he reminded.

Scully took a deep breath.  "All right."  She took
Mulder's hand.  He was breathing heavily and looked
scared.  "You OK?" she asked.

He took a deep breath.  "Yeah - I think so."

"Good.  I'm going to go get Skinner, swing by the outpatient
desk and sign for you, and then we'll meet you in X-ray."

Mulder squeezed her hand tighter.

"It will be OK, Mulder.  I can't come into the X-ray room 
with you anyway.  I'll be there - Skinner and I both will -
when you come out.  OK?"

Mulder nodded reluctantly, then slowly released her hand.

The orderly gave an exasperated sigh, and began to push
Mulder down the hallway.  Scully watched until he went around
the corner, then turned and hurried back out to the front drop 
off area.

She walked out to the car where Skinner waited patiently.
"I've got to get his paperwork done.  Why don't you park
and meet me in outpatient admitting?"

Skinner nodded, then got in and drove off.  She went back
in and spent several long minutes trying to find someone 
who knew of the special situation regarding Mulder.  One of
the clerks at last agreed to find a supervisor and wandered off.
Finally, just as Skinner reappeared, the supervisor produced the 
correct forms, and took Scully through all the standard releases
and promises to pay.  After a good twenty minutes, Scully signed 
and took her copies, and she and Skinner made their escape.

"I can't believe how long that took," she fumed as they
walked towards the X-ray department.  

"Isn't bureaucracy great?" Skinner teased. 

They talked quietly about what to do next.  If the tests were
clean, and showed no threatening physical abnormality, then
they could proceed with their plans to openly discuss some
of the things they had heard with Mulder.  Using a combination
of verbal and physical reassurances, a safe environment, and
appropriate drug therapy, Scully felt sure they could induce
Mulder to deal with these issues on a conscious level.

They reached the X-ray department and Scully walked to
the desk, saying, "Fox Mulder."

"Is he a patient?" the clerk asked.  

Scully turned to Skinner and rolled her eyes.  He smiled and
made an 'all yours' gesture, then turned and took a seat.

Scully produced the paperwork, the orders for complete
CT scan and the consent forms.  The clerk looked at them,
then shook her head.  "Sorry, Ma'am, he's not here yet."

"He was brought directly here some -" she looked at her watch,
"thirty minutes ago.  He must be here."

"What does he look like?"  the clerk asked.

"Tall, dark hair, jeans and a sport shirt, but he was on a 
gurney.  He's in an arm brace and has a walking cast on his 
left ankle."

"On a gurney?  Oh, no ma'am, he definitely hasn't
been here.  I would have remember someone in street
clothes on a gurney."

Skinner had been watching this little scenario play out,
amused at first but beginning to grow concerned.  He stood
and walked to the desk.   "Is there a problem, Dr. Scully?"
he asked pointedly.

At his use of the title 'Doctor,' the clerk blanched.

Scully looked gratefully at Skinner, then turned back
to the clerk.  "Would you just check, please?" she said
through clenched teeth.  "Fox William Mulder."

The clerk scurried through the back of her cubicle and 
hurried down the hall.  

Scully and Skinner waited.  "It has to be a mistake, doesn't
it, Sir?  I mean, surely, he's not - " Her voice trailed off, unable
to complete the thought.

"I'm sure it is just a mistake, Scully."  Skinner laid his
hand on her shoulder briefly.  "He's probably back there
flirting with the nurses - well, at least the female ones."
He smiled, and was pleased to see her try to smile back.

The clerk came back, shaking her head.  "I checked all
the rooms, Doctor, not just CT.  He's not here.  And I asked
the techs.  No one recognized the name."

Scully turned frightened eyes to Skinner, but he was focused
on the clerk.  "Call security," he ordered.  She lifted the
phone and dialed, then handed him the phone. 

"This is Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI.  I want
this facility locked down immediately." Pause.  "I don't give a 
good god damn about any of that.  You lock this building down, 
NOW!  One of my agent's life may be at stake."  

Skinner was nodding now, and Scully had pulled her cell phone.
The clerk had retreated into the background, watching them
both with wide eyes.  Scully was dialing Hoover, getting one of the
Section Chiefs who reported to Skinner on line.  As he hung up
from talking with hospital security, she said, "Section Chief Jacobs?
Please hold for the Assistant Director."  At his raised eyebrow, she 
shrugged and said, "He'll listen to you without a lot of crap." 

Skinner nodded, taking her phone, and said, "Jacobs?  I need everybody,
and I mean everybody down here to Georgetown Medical.  We have 
a missing agent.  Scramble and get the first teams here in 15 minutes.
You liaison with local police.  I have the facility locked down - no
one's coming in or out.  I need help - now."

Skinner took a breath, listening, then said, "Agent Mulder."  "Yes, he
is injured.  That's why he was here to begin with."  "I am putting you
in charge.  Get down here now, make sure security keeps this building
shut tighter than a drum.  Agent Scully and I will begin to search for
him now.  Call me on my cell when you get here."

He closed the phone, handing it to Scully, and said, "Come on, let's
go back to where we first saw him.  We'll start from there."
They walked quickly back down the hall, heading toward the front
drop off.

As they walked, Scully said, "I shouldn't have left him.  He was 
scared, I know.  He didn't want me to go." 

"We'll find him, Scully."

"It's been over half an hour, Sir.  They could have taken him
out another door, he could be anywhere by now."

Skinner stopped.  She stopped and turned to face him, a
question on her face.  He placed a hand on each of her arms,
holding her loosely and said,   "Agent Scully, I need you to 
focus.  You are going to be the lead agent on a search and rescue
operation.  Please, advise me of how you plan to proceed."

Scully looked at Skinner, then drew a deep breath.  She stood
for a moment, hands clenched, eyes closed as she willed herself
to focus, to function.  She relaxed her hands, then opened her
eyes.  "We need to go back to where I lost visual with him, then
follow and track down witnesses."  Skinner nodded approvingly,
and let his hands drop.

His abrupt insistence on protocol, procedures, formalities,
had settled her.  Making a plan, having a goal, these were things
she knew and was familiar with.  She calmly met Skinner's
eyes and went on.

"When the others get here, we can spread out and do a floor by 
floor, room by room search.  We can also get people into the 
surrounding area, in the event he was taken out of the building."

"Excellent plan, Agent Scully."  He took her arm, turned, and
began walking again.  "Shall we execute it?"

***************************************************

Mulder closed his eyes.  Watching the ceiling tiles pass was
making him dizzy.  The orderly apparently wasn't the talkative
type, and he continued to wheel Mulder through the halls in
silence.  They made several turns, went through doors,
and then entered an elevator.  

"Is this him?"

Mulder jerked his eyes open.  He started to sit up, but
was met with a hand on his chest, pushing him insistently
back down to the thin mattress.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Nobody you need to remember, Agent Mulder."

As he struggled against the hand holding him down, he
felt a prick at the base of his neck and almost immediately
his whole body began to relax.  He tried to resist but his
limbs wouldn't obey his mind's commands.  He felt an
unwanted lethargy slide over him, and movement became
increasingly difficult.  

"What the . . ."  he tried to yell, but a hand quickly covered
his mouth, soon replaced with wide surgical tape.  His only 
free hand, the right one, was quickly taped to the rail.  He lifted
his head mere centimeters, then collapsed, exhausted.  He
turned his head slowly, taking in the two men standing
by the gurney, the orderly and the one who had been waiting 
in the elevator.  That one looked familiar.

As the thought came to him, he felt a sharp pain in his
right temple, and his eyes began to water.  He closed both eyes
tightly and began to concentrate on his breathing.  He could
feel a panic attack coming, something he didn't think he
could afford with these two.   Oh God, where was Dana?

The elevator stopped and he was pushed out.  He had
turned his head to the right, to attempt to alleviate some
of the pain, and was able to see, through the rails, that
they were in the basement.  The men wheeled him through
the lower corridors, and came to a door.  They pushed
open the door and parked him in a small storage room.

"What do we do now?" the orderly asked.  

"Let's go get a drink until he's ready," the elevator man said.

"Is it all right to leave him alone?" 

"Where's he gonna go, all drugged up like that?" 

The door opened and the men left.

Mulder immediately began to work on freeing himself
from the arm immobilizer.  With his right hand taped 
to the rail, he was going to have to get the left one free
if he was going to get loose.  It was hard to think, to plan.
His brain felt fuzzy.  He was dizzy, unbalanced, and his 
thoughts were sluggish and foggy. 

Movement of any kind was extremely difficult too.  He 
stopped to try to analyze the sensation.  It was a combination
of feeling like his limbs weighed hundreds of pounds each,
and trying to move through molasses - heavy, slow, 
exhausting work.

He rolled on his right side and scooted away from the
right rail, until he was up against the other side rail.
He curled his head and neck down, toward his left
hand, secured by the brace, but with fingers peeking out.
He finally had his mouth low enough that he was able to 
grasp the tape in two fingers and pull it from his face.

He took a deep breath and licked his lips.  He was 
exhausted.  He lay quietly for a moment, feeling his
heart race.  He rested for as long as he dared, then began
to pull the Velcro straps on the arm brace apart with 
his teeth.  He loosened the brace enough to be able
to move the left hand.  It hurt like hell, stressing the 
still healing shoulder.  He reached a bit further and felt
the shoulder separate from the socket again.  He bit
his lip and felt blood trickle down his chin as he tried to
keep from screaming.   But he was able to pull the tape 
off his right wrist and free himself.

Now what?  He was loose, but he was so exhausted
he didn't think he could move.  Whatever he had
been given had effectively semi-paralyzed him, and it
seemed to be getting worse with each moment.  He
lay there for a few minutes, looking at the floor, the 
room spinning around him as he fought the effects of
the drug.  It was a long way down from the gurney.

He struggled to shift his body down the gurney, hoping
he could slide off the end, rolling to the right, and
land on his feet.  As he slowly worked his way down 
mattress, he tried to roll more and more onto his right
side.  When his legs were hanging off the end to 
mid-thigh, he made one last push, and slipped off the
bed.  He felt the walking cast touch first, then his right 
foot.  As he tried to bring himself erect, he felt both 
legs give and he continued to slide right off the gurney.

His head connected solidly with a metal corner on 
the bed, and he felt blood drip down his cheek.  He 
continued to slide down into a boneless puddle on the 
floor, listing sideways, and landing heavily on his
injured shoulder.

He lay panting for some time.  Getting off the bed had
jarred his again dislocated shoulder painfully, and he slowly 
refastened the immobilizer.  He was trapped on the floor 
now, muscles refusing to function again.  He knew he had  
to get out of this room, find a way out, find his -.  His mind
rebelled again, and he reworded the concept in his mind.
"I have to find my Dana."

*********************************************

Skinner and Scully had retraced Mulder's path as far as 
the last turn she had seen made.  The followed the hall
to an intersection, then turned right and began to question
the clerks, technicians, and patients in the departmental
waiting rooms they passed.

"Did you notice a man in street clothes being wheeled
by on a gurney in the last hour?"

Over and over, the answer was no.  They reached another 
intersection, then turned and went back the to the last
one and started their inquiries down the hall the other way.

Skinner's cell phone rang.  "Skinner."  He listened.  "Good
work, Jacobs.  Get teams on every floor, I want a room to 
room search.  Lock this place down even tighter.  No 
movement between floors without police escort.  I'll deal
with the political fallout later."  

He listened again.  "Scully and I are on the ground floor.
Send me 4 agents, and a radio, then deploy the rest throughout 
the building.  Call me if anyone finds anything.  And let the 
locals help.  Form some mixed teams and get some people on 
the street.  This is one of our own - I won't loose him." 

Skinner closed the phone and he and Scully resumed their
inquiries.  When the new agents joined them, Skinner sent them 
down the other corridors they hadn't gotten to yet.  When he
and Scully reached the lab, they split up to cover the full waiting 
room.

"Did you notice a man in street clothes being wheeled
by on a gurney in the last hour?"

At last, a young woman said, "Good looking guy?
Dark hair - killer eyes?  Had a cast on his foot, right?"

Skinner smiled at that - killer eyes.  Scully was hurrying
over to them, and he said, "Yes, that's him.  Where did 
you see him?"  

"In the hall.  I was going out for a smoke, and he was 
just lying there waiting for the elevator.  He looked really
scared and I remember thinking I wouldn't mind comforting
him."  She grinned.  "That aide could have been talking to 
him or something to try and calm him down."  

Scully swallowed hard, then asked, "When was this?"

"Oh, maybe 15, 20 minutes ago?"  She shrugged.  "I'm
not sure."

"Could you show us the elevator, please?"

Skinner pulled the radio, talking as they followed the 
young woman down the corridor.  "Jacobs,  Scully and
I found someone who saw him."  He looked up as they 
reached the bank of freight elevators.  

"I thought it was weird they were transporting patients
in the freight elevator."  The young woman shrugged
again. 

"Freight elevators, Jacobs.  Get me people."

Scully was thanking the young woman and sending her
back to the lab, as the first of their assistance arrived.  

Scully looked at Skinner.  "If they used the freight 
elevators, I'm betting they took him to the basement."

Skinner nodded.  He gestured, "You and you, west stairs,
you two, east stairs.  Scully and I will go in the elevator. 
Be careful, we don't know what we're getting into here."

***********************************************

Mulder was running out of time and knew it.  He had to get 
moving now.  He half-crawled, half slithered to the closest
wall, and dragged himself up.  He could just barely make
himself move, but he'd have to hang onto the wall.  He slowly
pulled himself around the room to the door,  his muscles 
protesting every step of the way, his shoulder screaming for
relief.  

He was at the door now, and stopped, breathing ragged.  He
looked at the gurney, the chart still visible in its vinyl pouch.
With trembling legs, he stepped forward, caught himself on the 
edge of the gurney, and lifted the chart.  He glanced inside,
then paled.  He looked around the small room, then closed
the chart, tucking it securely into the arm brace.  He turned 
and made the one step journey back to the door.

He slipped into the hallway, and stood, resting.  He was still
dizzy, and blackness threatened to overtake him.  He pushed
it back by sheer strength of will and tried to assess his options.
No way could he go forward, too much open ground to cover
and he'd never make it without support.  To the right were
the elevators, and potential aid, but they'd probably come that 
way when they came back.

He turned left, propelling himself sideways with his back 
against the wall to keep the strain off the injured left shoulder.
He came to another door.  Locked.   He went on.  Another
door.  He opened it.  Empty room.  He closed it and went on.
As he reached the third door, the elevator chimed, and he
knew his decision had been made for him.  He slipped inside,
closing the door as he heard the elevator open and laughter
wafted out.  

It was the elevator man, laughing at the orderly.  "Stop 
worrying.  They can lock the damn building down all
they want.  He's out for the count by now, and they won't 
look down here at first.  They may suspect something, but
they'll still be looking for him on the patient floors, assuming
he's a victim of hospital mismanagement.  We can play the tape,
give him the last dose, and get out of here in another hour."

"What do we do with him then?"

"Leave him here.  They'll find him eventually."

They were opening the door to the storage room.  "Out for the
count, huh?" the orderly said snidely.  "Now what do we
do?"

Mulder had collapsed inside the room, unable to move another
step.  He reached up and rubbed his face, smearing blood
over his eye and cheek.  He looked dazedly at his bloody
hand, then wiped it on his shirt.  He couldn't run, he couldn't 
hide, he couldn't fight.  They were going to find him.

He heard the elevator chime again, and the doors' soft
whoosh as they opened.  

"Freeze!"  a voice called.  Skinner?

There was another yell, then the sound of running.  The running 
passed his door and he breathed a sigh of relief.  

"Stop, or I *will* shoot!"  Skinner bellowed.  He was running too. 
Mulder heard him go by the closed door.

"Mulder!  Where are you?"  Dana?  Was that Dana?  He was so
tired.  It hurt to move, it hurt to think, and he didn't think
he'd be able to stay conscious much longer.  What had they
given him?

"Dana!" he called weakly.  "I'm here."

He heard the first door open, and she called again, "Mulder!"

"Here," he whispered.  "I'm here."

The locked door - a shot.  She must have shot the lock.  Again,
"Mulder!"

The empty room.  She was calling him again.  Skinner came
back into the hallway.  "Pearson and  Smith got the orderly.
The other one got away.  I heard a shot."

"The door was locked."

"You didn't find him."

"Not yet.  MULDER!"

"I'm here, Dana," he whispered again, unconsciousness rapidly
creeping up on him.  He knew she'd find him, but he wanted
to see her, to touch her, to know she was all right.

At last, the door to his room opened and she was there.
"Mulder!" she cried as she knelt before him.  He saw her
take in the blood on his face, his hand, his shirt.  Then she
was touching him, checking him, her touch sure but gentle.
She located the cut on his head, the split lip.  He wanted to
tell her he was all right, but he couldn't seem to find the
words.  

She was talking to him now, soothing sounds that made him
feel safe, protected, cared for.  She looked at his shoulder
pulling the chart free from the brace, and handing it to Skinner
without thought.

'That's important,' his mind said, but the words never reached
his lips.  But it was all right.  She would know.  She always 
knew.  He saw her wince as she realized the shoulder had
separated again.

She was looking in his eyes now, and he saw that she
recognized he had been drugged.  He saw the worry fall
over her like a cold, damp blanket, weighing her down, 
chilling her soul.  She looked so sad, he had to do something -
say something.  He closed his eyes to gather his strength.
He felt her reach out, her arms wrapping around him, 
holding him, supporting him, protecting him.

"Here, Dana," he whispered yet again.  "I'm here.  I knew 
you'd find me."  He leaned into her embrace, trusting her to
keep him safe.  "You always come and get me."  He put his 
head on her shoulder and let the blackness carry him away.

End of part 04/05

Memory:  Restoration of the Mind  05/05

The weekend at last.  Had it really been only a week since this
whole thing had started?  Scully sighed as she sat vigil by
Mulder's hospital bed once more.  Mulder had been taken last
Friday, and now it was Saturday, a week later.  And he was 
being discharged from the hospital soon - for the second time 
in a week.

With Skinner and the other agents' help, Scully had gotten
Mulder back on the ill-fated gurney and hauled him up to
the ER.  He had been treated for the minor cuts and abrasions
he received, and then an orthopedist had come in and reseated
his shoulder.  

Given the unknown nature of the drugs Mulder had been 
given, they had opted not to medicate him for the procedure,
and it had hurt like hell.  It had taken four strong men to
hold him and manipulate the shoulder back into place.  

Though the hospital would have supplied someone, Skinner
had held him, while the doctor moved the bone.  Scully 
smiled slightly at the remembered sight of their dour boss, 
his arms wrapped tightly around Mulder, holding the 
younger man against his broad chest, as his arm was pulled 
and shifted. 

Mulder had screamed, his head thrown back on Skinner's 
shoulder, mouth open and tears streaming down his face.  
Skinner had held him firmly, turning his head slightly to 
whisper encouragement into the ear that rested there.

When it was over, when the doctor was done and the 
aides had released Mulder's legs, Skinner had continued 
to hold him for few minutes longer, giving him time 
to recover somewhat - offering comfort through his solid
presence.

Scully cringed just thinking about it.  She had felt so
helpless watching as her partner, her friend, had once
again been tortured.  And though it may have been done
with the best of intentions this time, and with Mulder's
best interest in mind, make no mistake, it *was* torture.

The tox screen on Mulder's blood had come back with a 
similar mix of chemicals as had been found in his system
Tuesday.  The only new aspects were a heavier percentage 
of narcotic and a paralyzing agent.  It was obvious the 
men who took him were trying to knock him out and
keep him still.  It was incredible he had been able
to move at all!

And now, at last, the doctors had decided it was safe to 
give him something for the pain he was suffering.  An IV
hung beside the bed, filled with 'the good stuff' as Mulder
called it, and he, himself was curled in the bed, asleep
at last.  When he woke, they would be leaving the hospital.

An agent stood guard outside the door, with two more
further down the corridor, one in each direction.  No one
got near Mulder without proper approvals, identification,
and an escort.  Skinner himself had refused to let Mulder
or Scully out of his sight until a few minutes ago, when
he had departed to arrange Mulder's discharge, transport,
and a safe house for them to stay in.  Given what had 
happened, they were taking no more chances with Mulder's
safety.  It appeared the people who were after Mulder
had way too much access to his movements as it was.

Mulder moaned, and his eyes fluttered, and Scully was
immediately at his side.

"Hey buddy," she whispered, "You gonna wake up and
keep me company now?"

His eyes struggled open, and she saw the recognition
pass over them, then the relief.  He gave a tentative
smile and started to speak.  He was interrupted by
a brief coughing fit, and he winced as his movement
jarred his shoulder.

Scully poured water into a cup from the pitcher by
the bed, and held it up to his lips.  He took several
sips, then cleared his throat and tried again.

"Dana," he said.  One word but in it she heard everything,
all the things that went unspoken.  'You're here, you're
all right.'  'I trust you, I need you.'  'I'm scared, don't
leave me.'  'I hurt, make it better.'

She smiled and stroked his hair back from his face, 
carefully skirting the bandage over his eye.  "How you
feeling?" she asked gently.

He paused and she could see he was making an assessment.
"Better, I think."  He smiled too, then added, "I was pretty
out of it for a while.  Maybe you should tell me - how
am I?"

She straightened then pulled the chair closer to the bed and
took a seat.  "Well, you dislocated your shoulder again, but
it's been put back in.  You ab-so-lute-ly *cannot* injure
it again or you risk surgery and possible permanent damage.

She reached out and carefully touched the bandage over his
eye.  "You've got some bumps and bruises, but you're mostly
OK.  The ankle wasn't hurt any more, the ribs are OK.  
Considering how things normally fall for you, you actually
came out of this one surprisingly intact."

He chuckled and said, "I didn't feel very intact when they 
were yanking on my arm earlier."  He paused, reliving the
experience, then his eyes widened and he exclaimed, "Skinner
was holding me!  Why was Skinner holding me?"

"He volunteered, Mulder.  He knew it was gonna hurt 
like the devil with no anesthetic, and I think he thought
having someone you know right there, might help."  She
grinned, then teased, "It was really very sweet of him."

Mulder snorted, "Skinner, sweet?  Oh yeah!"  And they
both began to laugh.

Just as they began to get themselves under control, the door 
opened and the source of their mirth entered.  They looked up
at Skinner and then at each other, and collapsed in laughter
all over again.

Skinner stood silently, just inside the door, his arms crossed
over his chest, and stared at them.  

Scully struggled to control herself, forcing out a strangled,
"Hello, Sir," before giving in to the laughter again.  She took
several more deep breaths, then said, "Sorry, Sir."

When they once again began to settle down, he spoke.

"Agents.  I came to inform you that the safe house is arranged
and transportation is waiting for you downstairs."

Mulder looked at Scully and said, "Gee Dana, isn't that sweet?"
and that set them off again.  

Skinner just stood there, looking at them as if they had both lost
their minds.

***********************************************

The safe house was a lovely old Victorian in the heart
of Alexandria.  Scully had questioned the advisability
of being so close to Mulder's apartment, but had been
overruled when Skinner had pointed out that they needed
to be near Headquarters, and the resources that offered.

The drive from Georgetown to Alexandria had exhausted
Mulder, though he had struggled to stay awake en route.

When they arrived at the house, Mulder had immediately
opened the car door and gotten out, determined to take some
responsibility for himself.  He stood holding onto the door, 
cautiously eyeing the flight of steps up to the porch on the 
old house.  Scully came around beside him and put her arms
around his waist.  

"Long way up," he commented.  

"It's OK, Mulder, I'll help."

"It always comes down to you having to help me doesn't it?"

"You help me all the time, Mulder.  It's what we do.  It's
who we are."

He nodded, then said, "I'm really tired, Dana.  It hurts to 
move," he confessed.

"I know," she responded.  "It'll be all right.  Come on, 
Mulder, up you go."

They had walked slowly up the sidewalk, Mulder leaning
heavily on Scully, when she faltered slightly.  Mulder
stopped, pulling himself as erect as possible, and looked
down at her.  "Are you all right, Dana?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she answered.

"Now why don't I believe that?" he asked wryly.

"Let it go, Mulder."  She braced herself and began to move
him slowly towards the steps once more.  As they reached 
the bottom stair, she felt Mulder's weight lift away from
her and redistribute to his other side.

She looked to her left and saw that Skinner had come up
on Mulder's side, and was supporting him, helping him
move, and keeping the weight off her so she could focus
on guiding him.

They maneuvered him up the stairs, then into a downstairs 
room that had been converted to a bedroom for him.
He sat gingerly on the bed and toed off his shoes.  His
eyes scanned the room, taking in the security windows,
alarms, and the small camera in the corner.

Nodding in its direction, he commented, "I hope there's
not one of those in the bathroom, because I *am* taking
a shower."

Scully had followed him in and now walked over to
the bed.  "Mulder, you need to rest."

"I *need* to take a shower," he growled.  "Sponge
baths for a week, Dana."  He scrunched up his face.
"I can't even stand myself - I don't know how you can
stand to be near me. Yuck."

She smiled.  "Feeling a need for fastidiousness, are
we?"  He smiled back, but she saw he was determined on
this.  Nodding, she said, "Let me get a chair.  We can put
it in the shower and you can sit if you get tired, OK?"

He made a moue of distaste, then reluctantly agreed.
He had started to undo the arm immobilizer when she
reached out and stopped him.  "Mulder," she said, "Let
me get the sling.  Remember what I said about your arm?
You *cannot* put any weight on it, or do anything with
it.  The sling can get wet, the arm can get wet, but the
arm *does not* move - got it?"

He nodded, then waited patiently while she unpacked
his bag to pull out the sling.   She stepped out to
get a chair, and Skinner himself brought it in and
placed it in the bathroom.  

Scully helped him take his shirt off, then gently undid
the immobilizer, having Skinner support the arm while
she pulled the brace off, put the sling on, and settled
it around the arm.  She knelt and took off his socks, 
the started to unbutton his jeans.  

"Enough, Dana," he said quietly.  "I'll take it from here."

She looked up at him and flushed.  "Sorry, Mulder."

He smiled to tell her it was all right, then stood.  "If
I'm not out in an hour, come get me."

She looked at him and said, "If you're not out in 15 minutes
I'm going to come get you."

"Aw, Dana, give a guy a break," he whined.   "It's been a
week!  Give me half an hour at least."

"Twenty minutes, Mulder," she said, "No more.  If you 
don't want company, you be out in twenty minutes.  And
don't lock the door."

He nodded then walked shakily to the bath, grumbling all
the way.

"Will he be OK, Scully?" Skinner asked when the door had
shut and the water had started.

She shrugged.  "He needs to feel like he's in control of
some part of his life.  We're here.  As long as he sits,
and doesn't move the arm, he should be able to do this." 
She wrinkled her nose.  "And he's right - he does need a shower."

***************************************************

Mulder stood under the flowing water, eyes closed, leaning
slightly against the wall.  Despite the awkwardness of having 
to wear the sling, and the ache from his shoulder, he felt
wonderful!  Who knew water could be such a treat?

He stood, enjoying the sensation of the spray hitting
his back, then turned and lifted his face up, letting
the warm water wash over him.  He sighed, thinking
of the time, and reluctantly took the soap and began
to clean himself.  

After he was clean, he looked at his arm in the heavy,
wet sling.  He wanted desperately to wash it, too, and 
his underarm, but Dana had said no movement.  He was
debating on washing it anyway, when the strangest
feeling of 'been there, done that' came over him.  

He looked at the sling, then felt himself grow dizzy.  He
reached out, steadied himself on the chair.  The dizziness
increased and he forced himself to sit before he collapsed.
There was something about the sling - and the water . . .

*****************************************************

Fox stood in the shower and tried to wash himself.  He knew 
he better do a good job, or his Dad would get mad.  His arm
really hurt, and it was hard to wash good with the sling on 
it.  Even though he was twelve, he wished his Mom would
come help him.  It was just so hard to do it all himself!

He'd been having to do a lot more things himself, since
Sam was gone.  Mom hardly did anything around the 
house anymore, and Dad was away a lot.  When he was home,
he was always angry, his temper on edge.

The reason Fox had his arm in a sling was because
he'd gotten on the edge of that temper, and Dad had
grabbed him and thrown him into a wall.  He choked
back a sob as he thought of how much it had hurt.  

Dad had made him sit there, by the wall, all night, before
he let him speak and tell that his arm was really hurt.  
He'd been so afraid, and then he'd wet himself, and Dad
was even more angry.  When he realized Fox had wet 
his pants, he said "No wonder they didn't want you."

Finally Fox had been allowed to rise.  He'd cleaned 
the floor where he had been sitting first, then he'd been
allowed to go and clean himself, changing into other
clothes.  He'd moved slowly, trying not to jar his sore
arm, but it had hurt terribly.  He had managed not
to cry in the study, though, and he knew that was a 
good thing.

He'd asked if he could go to bed, and been given 
permission.  He'd scrounged in the bathroom cupboard, 
and found an old sling from when Sammy had hurt 
her shoulder when she was little.  It was way too small
for him, but it was the best he could do.  

Now, the next evening, the whole arm was horribly
swollen, and it hurt so bad.  He had slept fitfully most
of the day, but a little while ago, his Dad had come 
and told him to get up.  Mom didn't feel up to 
cooking, and Fox had to get dinner.  Dad told him 
to shower - get the urine stink off him - and come 
downstairs.

Fox knew he didn't stink.  He'd cleaned up real good 
this morning, but he also knew, if Dad said shower, 
then you better shower.  He peeked in the sling again.
His arm was *really* swollen.  It was bruised and
purple looking, and it hurt so bad.

He didn't want to touch it, to move it, to do anything
to it.  He didn't want to do anything.  He was so tired
and he felt so bad.  But Dad was waiting and time
was running out.  

Very carefully he lifted his arm out of the sling, and
began to wash.  Every touch brought a stab of
pain radiating through his whole body.  He felt dizzy,
and he knew he better sit down.  As he started to 
lower himself to his knees, he banged the arm on
the soap holder, and screamed.  Blackness washed
over him and warm water beating over his face as
he lay under the water, searing pain in every inch of
his arm, was the last thing Fox was aware of for a
long time.

****************************************

Skinner and Scully were sitting in the living room,
the door to Mulder's room open and the sound of the
water from the shower carried out to them.  They
were discussing Mulder's scans.  All negative.  At least
there was a bit of good news in the midst of all that had 
happened.  Scully had begun to discuss which drugs
might be appropriate to treat and prevent the headaches
that were so incapacitating to him, when from behind
the bathroom door, they heard a tremendous scream.

They were both on their feet and moving instantly,
Skinner reaching the door first and bursting through.
Scully was a second behind him, and two other agents,
assigned guards, were right behind her.

Mulder lay on his back in the shower stall, long legs 
curled over to one side.  The sling was off, and the 
chair had tipped over and lay half on top of him.  The
water beat down on him, and he moaned quietly.   Skinner
reached in and lifted the chair out, then turned the
water off, heedless of the wetness soaking his shirt.

"I need to get to him, Sir," Scully said.  Skinner
nodded, then stepped back, eyeing the sliding
door on the shower stall.  He lifted one door out
of the track and passed it to one of the agents in
the doorway.  He lifted the other door out and passed
it out as well.  

They now had an open accessway to Mulder and
Scully stepped in and knelt by his head on the 
wet tile floor.  She reached out and touched him
gently, saying, "Mulder, come on, Mulder, look
at me."

He moaned again, then opened his eyes, fixing
his gaze on her face.  

"Please," he gasped.  "Hurts."

"I know, sweetie," she responded.  "Just hold on
a minute.  I'm gonna get you out of here and
then you'll feel better."

She looked up at Skinner.  "Get a pillow for his
head for now.  And a couple towels.  One to dry him
and one to cover him.  And get the arm brace."

The towels appeared immediately and Scully lay
one across Mulder's mid-section, covering him from
the waist to knee.  She began to pat his left
arm, gently, carefully, the towel barely connecting
with the wet skin.  But even this slight touch
caused Mulder to moan, and tears began to trickle
down his cheeks.  Scully was cooing as him, 
trying to ease his discomfort, as she worked
quickly to finish drying him so she could secure
his arm.

The pillow had appeared, and Skinner carefully 
lifted Mulder's head, slipped it in, then helped
Mulder drop back against the welcoming softness.

At Skinner's touch, Mulder's eyes flew open and 
he stared at the older man, pure terror in his face.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he cried.  He began to struggle
to sit up, but the movement aggravated the shoulder
and he collapsed back into the shower.  

"I'm coming, Dad," he whispered.  "I'm gonna get
dinner in just a minute."  They watched as he
drew a deep breath and again, struggled to rise.  
He pushed Scully away, and managed to pull himself
up into a sitting position.  

But he seemed oblivious to her presence, aware
only of whatever was occurring in his mind.  Scully
cast a pleading look at Skinner - do something -
and returned her attention to Mulder's arm.

Skinner said, "It's all right, Fox, calm down."

Mulder relaxed marginally but kept his eyes on 
Skinner.

"Fox," Scully said, taking his chin in her hand and
forcing him to look at her.  "Fox, I need to put
the brace on your arm."

He looked at her then, and confusion flooded his
features.  "You're here," he said, wonder in his voice.
"How can you be here?"  He was tightly gripping the
left arm against his chest, holding it with his
right.

"You need to let me put the brace on, Fox," Scully
said again.

He looked down at his arm, then up at her again.
"You're not real," he said at last.  "I dreamed
you up."  Scully and Skinner exchanged a glance.
Keeping up with Mulder's scattered psyche was
a difficult task.

"Fox, sweetie," Scully said, "it's me, Dana."

"You can't be here," he said.  "I don't know
you yet."

Another quick glance at Skinner, then she
said, "You're just remembering, Fox.  It's all
right."

Now he looked even more confused, and he pulled his 
legs up to his chest.  He looked down at himself and
seemed to realize he was naked for the first time.
He flushed, then looked up again, and whined, "No,
you can't be here.  I'm gonna get in trouble again
for not paying attention."  

He looked down at Scully's hand on his right arm,
and then at Skinner, hovering over them both.  "You
have to let me go," he pleaded.  "Please, let me go."
Tears began to fall.  "See, you made me cry.  I'm 
gonna get in trouble."

Skinner reached out and laid a hand awkwardly on
Mulder's head.  "It's OK to cry, Fox," he said.  "You're
not going to get in trouble."

Mulder looked up, then looked at Scully.  He seemed every
bit the damaged, hurting twelve year old his voice betrayed.
His eyes were filled with tears and there was a faraway, 
almost dreamy cast to his voice as he said, "I dream of you
a lot.  When it gets really bad, I dream of someone
coming to take me away.

"I used to dream that Sam would come back, and everything
would go back to the way it was.  But she never does."  A
tear fell, crawling slowly down his cheek.  "Mom never
looks at me anymore, and Dad is always angry.  I'm
always in trouble.

"So I started to  imagine someone will come and take
me away.  It's always someone who will love me and keep
me safe."  He looked at Scully sideways, then added, 
"It's usually someone bigger than you, though.  I don't
think you'd be much help when Dad gets mad."

Scully reached out and turned his head, so he was again
looking in her eyes.  "Fox, you *do* know me.  I *am*
real.  You're remembering a very bad time, but it's over
now, and you're safe.  I'm here and no one is going to hurt
you."  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him
into herself, surrounding him with her presence.

He began to cry for real then, huge wracking sobs that
shook his frame, and left him gasping for breath and
exhausted.  Scully clung to him, rocking him, crooning
soft words of comfort in his ear.  She stroked his back, and
kissed his head, and made soothing sounds. 

When he finally stilled, there was quiet in the small room.  
Mulder hung, depleted,  in Scully's arms.  Scully herself
was fighting exhaustion.  Her knees ached from kneeling
for so long, and her arms from supporting this big man.
Her back was screaming for relief, and her head ached.

Skinner had stood quietly through it all, unsure of how to 
help, unwilling to leave them alone, afraid to speak for
fear Mulder would relate him to his father.  He watched as
Scully began to tremble, then stepped forward, and said, 
"Dana, let me take him for a while."

At his voice, Mulder lifted his head from Scully's shoulder, 
and looked up.  He took in Scully, then Skinner, and then
down at himself.  He whispered, "Tired," and Scully nodded.
Skinner knelt in the shower beside them, and shifted Mulder's
weight to his own arms.  Scully sat back gratefully, and
then stretched slightly.

Mulder had stiffened at the unfamiliar touch, then relaxed
into Skinner's supporting arms.  His eyes were closed and
he seemed almost unconscious.  Scully glanced at Skinner,
then said, "Let me get him in the brace, then we can move
him."  The AD nodded, then moved slightly to support 
Mulder from behind. 

Scully quickly dried Mulder's arm, then fitted the immobilizer
around his chest and settled his arm securely within its
confines.  Mulder hardly stirred during all of this.  When his
arm was secured, she rose and called the agents back into
the room.  With Skinner supporting his head and chest,
the three men lifted Mulder and carried him to the bed.

Scully had pulled the covers back, and they placed him on
the clean sheets.  He never opened his eyes, but somehow, Scully
knew he was with them again.  She shooed the guards out and
pulled the comforter over Mulder's still nude body.  She quickly
retrieved his meds, shaking two tablets for pain into her palm.  
At her glance around the room, Skinner trotted out, returning
shortly with a glass of water.  

She shot him a grateful look, then sat carefully on the bed next
to Mulder.  She gently stroked his arm, saying, "Fox . . ."

"Mulder," he replied.  "Everyone calls me Mulder."  One 
eye opened.  "But you know that, Scully."  His eyes followed
her movement as she turned to look at Skinner in astonishment,
then quickly refocused on him, looking for any hint of new pain.

"You know who I am?" she asked.

He nodded, then indicated the pills in her hand.  "For me?  'Cause
I could sure use something now."

She placed the pills on his tongue, then held the glass to his 
lips as he drank.

"You know who I am, Mulder?"  she asked again.

"I remembered in the shower.  I remembered a lot of things.  Some
of  it's in the chart."  He sighed wearily.  "I'm really tired, Scully.
Can I sleep now, please?  We'll talk later."  His right hand gently
patted her arm and his eyes drifted shut.

"OK, Mulder, later."  

Skinner stepped out of the room, and Scully rose to leave.  She leaned 
over and kissed him tenderly on the forehead, her hand smoothing his
hair back.  "I'm so glad you didn't forget me Mulder," she murmured.

As she stood, his hand reached out and took her wrist, holding her
loosely for a long moment, his thumb stroking her skin.  "I could 
never forget you, Scully," he whispered.  "Never."

End part 05/05


Daydreamer