He
was settled on the plane, reading the file Skinner had given him. Thoughts of Diana kept intruding and he
continually pushed them aside.
“May
I?”
Mulder
looked up at the sound of a woman’s voice. Scully,
of course she’d be here. He stood in the
aisle to let her pass. He didn’t want to
deal with her right now. As soon as she was
seated, he returned to the file. There was no
need to try to charm her.
After
takeoff, which he noticed was white knuckle for her, he tried to ignore her. The scent from the night before was pervasive
however. He’d slept with that scent
around him and for some reason it was irritating the hell out of him. He’d be damned if he’d mention it.
While
he flirted with the stewardess, she remained quiet and tried to concentrate on her own
information from the file, but his voice kept filtering in.
What was going on? He had
never treated her like this.
*****
He
took the keys to the rental car without even bothering to ask if she wanted to drive. He did drive, probably 75% of the time, but he
always made some comment. This time there was
nothing. She dreaded an hour and a half ride
with him. If she only knew what was wrong,
but it was as though he were a different man.
He
obviously didn't want to have anything to do with her either, flipping on the radio and
turning the music up to prevent conversation. She
turned to look out the window, more sad than angry at this point. She didn't realize he would occasionally look over
at her, now that she couldn't see. He was
startled at what looked like a tear on the side of her face. Her hand brushed it away before he was sure.
The
drive seemed to take forever and even then he didn't seem anxious to get started on the
case, pulling into the twelve-unit motor court near the hospital.
After
checking in and taking their bags inside, she returned immediately to his door, knocking
sharply. "Can we get on with this?"
"Sure
Agent Scully, let's knock ourselves out." Again
he took the driver's side and they drove the short distance to the hospital.
The place obviously was doing a lot more business than it was used to and they were unable to get anyone to stop and answer their questions. She was ready to reach for her badge and demand attention when a familiar voice caught her ear.
She
turned and saw him, Commander Henderson. She
grabbed Mulder's arm and pulled him into an empty cubicle, pulling the curtain closed. She had caught him off guard and was quite
forceful about getting out of sight. He
straightened his suit coat and looked down at her. "You
couldn't wait until we're back at the motel?"
She
shot him a withering glare. "That's
Commander Henderson out there and he'd like nothing better than to throw you behind bars
again. Is that what you want?"
"Behind
bars? What did I do to him?"
She
was ignoring him now. "That means a
retrieval team is here. We've got to get out
before he sees either one of us."
"He
wants you behind bars too?"
"He's
not fond of me, but he despises you." She
snatched the car keys from Mulder's hand.
"Hey!"
"Shut
up." She peeked through the curtains. "Come on.
Hurry." She didn't check
to see if he was following her, and after a short hesitation he was. She already had the engine going when he opened
the passenger door.
When
they got back to the motel, he was out of the car before she could take it out of gear. She jumped out and entered his room on his heels,
before he could shut the door.
"What
do you want?" He barked at her,
resisting the urge to take a breath of her, now that her scent was in his room.
"That
was Commander Henderson, are you - "
"You've told me his name several times now. Who is he? Why is he after me?"
"Mulder,
don't you remember him? What about Max?"
"Max?"
"Max
Fenig!"
Mulder
shook his head, at a loss.
"Who
the hell are you?" She backed away from
him then, drawing her gun.
"What
the - "
"I
want to see your blood. Prick your finger, do
something, I need to see the color of your blood."
"You're
out of your friggin’ mind! You want me
to bleed for you?"
She
nodded, ratcheting a bullet into the chamber. His
eyes widened; she'd do it. The paranoid bitch
was going to shoot him.
"Fine,
fine okay." He pulled a small knife from
his pocket and pressed the tip of the blade to his ring finger. A drop of bright red blood appeared.
He
could see Scully visibly relax at the sight and point the gun toward the ceiling.
"You're
human."
"Thanks,
I think. What the fuck is going on
here?"
"You're
not my partner. You're not Fox Mulder and I
want to know what you've done with him."
"I
haven't done anything with him. I am Fox Mulder, I always have been."
"I
want your fingerprints and DNA."
"You
can have all the DNA you want." He made
a suggestive motion with his hips and saw her anger rise.
What was wrong with him? He
didn't treat women like this. "Dana . .
. Dana, I'm sorry."
She
gave him the smallest of nods. "We need
to get back to DC. Finding out what's going
on with you is more important than this case." She
turned toward the door then.
"Scully,
you said retrieval team. What are they
retrieving?"
She
looked him in the eye then, "UFOs." She
let herself out the door, but not before she saw his eyes widen and his mouth fall
slightly open.
He
stood in shock for the longest time. UFOs? She hadn’t been pulling his leg, she
wouldn’t do that, he knew that instinctively. A
noise on the other side of the wall finally drew his attention.
She
was crying. Shit! Why was she crying?
He hated it when women cried, but he couldn’t ignore it. Not if it was her.
He let himself out of his room and moved to her door. He started to knock, then stopped, trying
the knob.
She
hadn’t taken the time to turn the old-fashioned thumb switch and the door was
unlocked. He carefully let himself into the
room. She was seated on the bed, her back
against the headboard, her knees up under her chin with her arms wrapped around them.
“Scully? You okay?”
She
shook her head but didn’t speak.
“Scully,
what is our relationship?”
“We’re
partners.” She sniffed and reached for a
tissue. He took another cautious step toward
the bed and eased down on the corner opposite her.
“I
think it’s more than that.”
She
looked at him then. “Yes. We were friends, best friends. You were always there for me. I hope I was there for you.”
“I
have no doubt you were. The woman that broke
into my apartment the first evening would be there for anything.”
She
looked away then and sighed.
“When
was I there for you?”
She
glanced back, startled. He was serious, he
wanted to hear this. She took a deep breath,
“When, when I was returned after my abduction I was in a coma, dying. They removed life support and were waiting for me
to die. You came and sat with me, talked to
me. And I decided to live.” His eyes were wide, but he didn’t interrupt.
“And
when my cancer was . . . you found my cure and saved me again.”
“I
found a cure for cancer?”
“You
found a cure for mine. The implant.” She touched the back of her neck lightly. “I realize now I was hours from dying, and
you . . . Why do I infuriate you so?”
He
sat up straight at that question. “It .
. . it’s not fury, I think it’s fear. I
feel like I could care for you, do care for you, and that’s not my style,
Agent Scully. I booze ‘em and bed
‘em.” He shrugged.
She
blushed slightly but shook her head. “That’s
not the man I know. When . . . when did you
start drinking?” She chose the easier
topic.
“Why
didn’t you tell me Diana was dead?”
She
blinked at the change in subject. “I
did, once.”
"What
happened between the two of you?" He
asked her, puzzled.
"Diana
and me? Nothing."
His
expression showed he didn't believe her, but he dropped it, for now. "So what do we do?"
"Let
the guys do some testing. We have to know
what's going on."
*****
When
they landed, she drove directly to the Lone Gunmen's apartment. He followed in his own car.
"Guys,
I need your help. This is not Mulder, not the
Mulder I know."
"I
am Mulder.
I don't know what's going on, but I am Fox Mulder."
The
three men stood there at a loss looking between the two agents.
"Take
his finger prints, and his DNA." Scully
turned to Byers.
They
looked at Mulder then, who nodded. He sank
into a chair and held out his hand. Frohike
looked at Byers and shrugged, then stepped forward and got the print kit out of the desk.
He
took the prints and headed for the scanner. "Scully,”
Byers moved over toward her. "What
happened?"
"He
doesn't remember Max Fenig. He doesn't know
who Commander Henderson is."
"He
could still be Mulder; maybe someone tampered with his memory."
Mulder
looked over at them. "How did Diana
Fowley die?"
They
all turned to look at him then. After a long
moment, Scully moved over to him. She had
known that conversation wasn't over, but she was grateful the others were here. "She was murdered." He flinched.
"It was after I returned from Africa.
I found you and got you away from them.
About the time you were released from the hospital she was found in her
apartment, shot twice through the heart."
"Hospital? Africa? You
got me away from what?"
She
looked at Byers then as though to see if he were hearing this. "Mulder, they took you, they performed
surgery on you."
"What
kind of surgery?"
"On
your . . . on your brain, Mulder."
"You're
kidding, right?"
"No
Mulder. Right here." She moved closer and touched him lightly on his
scalp. When she felt no scar, she moved her
fingers slightly to the side. She glanced
over at Byers and then brought her other hand up to his head, parting his hair.
"Ow!" He jerked away as she pulled his hair in her
agitation.
"There's
no scar. Byers, there's no scar." Her voice was shaking.
They
all stepped back from the man then. Frohike
looked up, "the fingerprints match."
"What?" Scully stared at Frohike then. "They can't!
There's no scar!"
Byers
put what he hoped was a calming hand on Scully's arm.
"Let us check the DNA. Maybe
there's an explanation, maybe the scar - "
"Vanished? Along with his memory of past cases? When have you ever known Mulder to forget anything?"
Byers
looked away from her then. Langly and Frohike
refused to meet her eyes as well.
"Scully,
what's going on?" Mulder looked up at
her then. "I am Mulder, I don't remember
being your partner, I thought that was Diana. Since
I'm apparently the only one that remembers things that way, I agree, something's wrong. But I don't know what."
"I
don't either Mulder." She sank into the
other chair and looked at him. "But you
are not the Fox Mulder I have known for the past seven years. You need to tell me what you remember. We need to find out where your memories diverge
from mine. Byers?"
"Anything
you need Scully." Byers placed a calming
hand on Scully’s shoulder and Mulder felt his blood pressure rise. He had to hold himself in place to keep from
knocking the man’s hand away. What did
he care if another man touched her? He never
had with any other woman, and she wasn’t his type.
"You
have no memory of ever being my partner?"
"None. I recognized you that morning when I walked in my
office and you were there, but I'd never worked with you.
Diana and I found the X-Files about ten years ago. We've worked on them together ever since, or she
has and she takes me along, sorry, took me along."
"She
was the lead agent?"
"Maybe
not at first, but yeah."
"Why?"
"She
didn't drink as much." He shrugged.
Scully
closed her eyes at that. "Did she, did
she chose your cases or were they assigned?"
"For
the most part she chose them."
"You
seemed surprised by the amount of detail in the files you were looking at. Did you not . . . "
Mulder
actually laughed at that. "No, we didn't
go into that kind of detail. We were a joke. You should have seen some of the cases she brought
in. But hell, it kept me off the streets,
during the day at least."
"Did
you not care?"
"Hell
yes I cared!" The question had obviously
infuriated him. "But I was the only one
that did. It became an exercise."
"Did
Diana - "
"Diana
didn't care either, not once we quit . . . “ He looked down at his shoes then,
"Drinking became more attractive and women kept me busy."
"Oh
Mulder." She turned away from him at
those words and he felt a moment of panic.
"Mulder, we knew you before you worked with Diana." Byers spoke finally. "You were very excited when you found the X-Files. I know you always gave Diana some credit for finding them, but she wasn't there. In fact, she came to you after you found them because she'd heard about what you had found. Scully, do you think, do you think she could have been sent like you were, to debunk the work? Only, she actually did."
Scully
looked at Byers for a long moment. "You
think she worked with them? You think she
deliberately worked against . . . "
"Yeah,
I do." Byers nodded.
"It
makes the most sense Scully." Langly
faced her then, and Frohike nodded.
"That
doesn't explain who this man is."
"I'm
Fox Mulder."
"You're
not my Mulder!" She stopped when she realized what she had said. "I . . . I mean . . . "
"It's
okay Scully." Frohike placed a hand on
her shoulder.
She
shook her head. "I'm going home." She moved toward the door.
"Scully." Mulder rose, but she flinched from him and he
stopped.
She
left the apartment then without another word.
"Listen,
Mulder, she'll be okay. Just give her some
time. We'll get this thing figured out and -
"
"Right. I need a drink."
"Have
it here Mulder. Frohike's got what you
want." Byers placed a hand on his
shoulder. "You shouldn't - "
"I
need to be alone."
"That's
not a good idea Mulder."
"When's
the last time I had a good idea?" He
moved on to the door and didn't look back. The
three men exchanged glances.
"Should
we follow him?" Langly asked Byers.
"No. He doesn't know what's going on any more than we
do. We need to give him some space." Byers looked over at Frohike, who reluctantly
nodded.
*****
The
knock on her door finally roused her and she grabbed her robe. Was it Mulder?
He was the only one who had ever just showed up at her door this late at
night. If it was him, it was the first normal
thing he had done in months. After the
conversation at the guys’ apartment, he had refused further discussion. The DNA had matched, just like the prints. No chemicals of any kind had been found in his
blood.
Many
times she had turned to find him looking at her, watching her, but he never allowed a
personal conversation.
His
drinking continued, though he didn’t seem to be picking up women anymore. At least if he did, he hid it from her.
Her
depression grew, but so did her workload. He
automatically fell into a secondary role, often not even bothering with a theory.
At
first she had tried to tease him into an outlandish theory, just to watch his mind click
into gear. A couple of times it had worked,
but not lately. She desperately missed his
late night phone calls, the occasional pizza, even the damn innuendos.
She
had picked up the slack, covering for his lackluster performance, hoping every day that he
would snap out of it as quickly as it had taken him over.
It didn’t seem to be happening, and he did not want her help. He’d made that painfully obvious.
She
automatically checked the peephole. Skinner? She yanked the door open, "Sir? What's wrong?"
He
moved into her apartment and shut the door.
"What
is it?" Her voice shook, as he still
didn't speak, merely leading her to her couch.
"Scully,
Dana, there's been an accident."
"Accident?" She didn't realize she was now gripping his hand. "Mulder?"
Skinner
nodded. Without warning she rose, "Where
is he? Where have they taken him? I need to be with him."
"Dana,
Dana . . . he, he didn't make it. He was
apparently driving intoxicated. They've taken
the . . . the body to - "
"No! No, he's not dead.
He's not . . . “ Skinner had taken hold of her now and pulled her
against him. This man wouldn't lie to her,
but he couldn't be right, not about this. Her
arms tightened painfully around him and he could feel her nails even through his suit
coat. His own eyes were wet now and he felt
the shudders pass through her body.
He
agreed to take her, finally, and allowed her to get dressed while he waited. Skinner sat on the couch, numb with despair
himself; he couldn't imagine what she was thinking. He'd
never known the man to drink, not like this. How
could he have . . . at least he hadn't taken anyone else with him when he drove into that
bridge abutment.
Arrangements
needed to be made. The man had no family,
except Scully and she was in no shape . . . later, they could think about this later and
he would be there for her.
He
rose as he heard her approach. She was pale,
but she was composed again. He'd make this as
easy on her as he could.
*****
She
pushed the door to the morgue open. Skinner
had wanted to come with her but she had to do this alone.
His body had been brought out and his face wasn't covered. He wasn't marked; his face was unmarred by the
accident. The airbag had . . . she took hold
of the table to stay on her feet.
She
stared down at him; ignoring all of the things they had discussed that day at the Gunmen's
apartment. She wouldn't touch his scalp; she
didn't want to believe that the scar wasn't there.
"What
happened to you? Oh god Mulder, why did you
change? The drinking, the women. Were you trying to get killed? Did you just give up? What am I supposed to do now? How do I live?"
It
took a second to realize his eyes had opened. When
she did she jerked back, her eyes impossibly wide. Her
mouth moved but no sound emerged.
"Scully? You're alive?"
That
forced air back into her lungs. "Me? Mulder what the hell is . . . you were . . . you
were . . .” And she sank toward the floor.
"Scully!" He was off the table just beginning to realize his
nudity. When he ensured himself that she had
only fainted, he draped the sheet that had covered him around himself and thought to look
around. A morgue? He was in a morgue and she had thought he was dead. Was
he back? Was he back to where Scully was
alive? They had a lot to talk about, he
wondered if she would listen to him this time. And,
he smiled, how long would it take to get her back into his bed, where she belonged.
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