Part 13/17
"You've been home for two days how does it feel?" asked Dr. Shane.
Mulder liked her office. It didn't look like a typical shrink's office. She had her desk in front of the window facing inside the room with two comfortable armchairs in front of it. There was also a long couch that he was currently taking advantage of.
"It's good to be home. I like my stuff and that's where my stuff lives, so it's good. I appreciate your seeing me this way instead of making me go to the psych unit. Thank you," he said as he absentmindedly picked at the Band- Aid on the inside of his left arm.
She nodded. "I think I can trust you to take your meds and of course, blood work never lies, so don't give me a reason to admit you," she said sternly.
He stopped picking. "I won't."
"How have you been sleeping?"
He shrugged. "Okay, I guess. The Nortriptyline makes me really groggy and I can fall asleep without any problems. I've been taking the lorazepam regularly and it's helped with the panic attacks."
"Do you find the dosage okay on the lorazepam or do you want to increase it?" she asked.
He took a deep breath and then his ribs reminded him not to do that. "Ow. Uh, I think I would like to add one or two tablets PRN, just in case. I never want to go through another scene like I did at the hospital."
"When you thought you were having a heart attack?"
"Yeah. I'd like to avoid that if possible," he said.
"That's not a problem, you can go ahead and take up to two more tablets a day. Are you dreaming? How are you doing with the memories?"
"Well, the memories are coming up during the day. I haven't had a memory dream since I left the hospital. Once I realized what was going on it was as if a pressure valve was released. That's not to say that I don't have some really strong reactions when memories come up, but at least I don't feel like they control me. How's that for progress doc?"
She smiled. "That's good. But if you do start having memories creep into your dreams that doesn't mean you've lost your control. You're still new to these meds and you aren't at therapeutic levels, not yet. I don't want you to set yourself up for a fall. Does that make sense to you?" she asked.
"I've been thinking about that," he replied. "I know it's wishful thinking to believe that now that I'm out of the hospital and I'm working on my stuff it means I'm not going to hurt again. I expect to have some down days as=20 well as the good days."
"That's very good. I'm glad you're aware of that. What's happening at work?"
"I'm going to start working half days on Monday. I can't do too much with cracked ribs. My partner said I should work on clearing my desk. She said she figures that ought to take about 6 weeks," he said.
"You're getting along well?"
"Yeah, we're okay. There is some stuff we could talk about, but I'm not ready. I have a feeling that she really wants to talk about some things, but I . . . "
"What's stopping you?"
"I don't know. Scully's ready and I'm not, that's just the way it is right now. It's not that I haven't thought about things I want or need to tell her. I'm not ready. Life is a little overwhelming right now and I'd like to get some of this old stuff under more control before I get into anything with her. Do you have any feelings about that?" he teased her with the standard therapy line.
"I *think* that what you said makes a lot of sense," Dr. Shane replied.
She never took notes. That impressed him, for some reason. Maybe because it made him feel like she was really focusing on him instead of worrying about keeping her notes up to date. Hey, at $200.00 per therapeutic hour she should be very focused on him.
He shifted in the couch, moving the pillow around until he was more comfortable. "I've been thinking about what you said to me when I was in the hospital," he said.
She raised her hand to place it under her chin. "Really? What in particular?"
"Well, I've been thinking about how this is a cyclical process and how I'll be dealing with these issues from my past from time to time."
"Uh-huh. What have you been thinking about that?"
"That it really pisses me off." He struggled to a sitting position. "It's very frustrating! I thought I had moved beyond this and then things have happened recently and I just thought that the past was finally in the past. But, here it is. Again. I'm angry that my past still has so much control over me right now. I want to move on. I have to move on, damn it! And I can't because I am barraged by memories and feelings and sensations that are so powerful they make me feel like I'm dying."
He needed to relax. He lay down on the couch again and closed his eyes. "You know, I don't want to be one of those people that blame everything that's wrong in their life on their parents or their past. I don't want that. I want to move past all of that. I think that is a reasonable request. Don't you?" He began to rub his forehead, ignoring the gauze patches that still covered his wounds.
"Mulder, I understand your anger. I do. It's very popular right now to say that you live in the here and now and any problems you might be having is not related to your past. " She shook her head. "From what you have told me and from what I observed the abuse you suffered as a child is tremendous. What your parents said, what they did or didn't do has been internalized. It's very difficult to just turn that off, no matter how much you want to do so."
He groaned. "I thought I dealt with this and moved on. I'm angry that it happened, I'm angry that it's back and I'm angry that it's screwing up my life right now."
Dr. Shane nodded, "You have every right to be angry."
"But what do I do with it? All this anger that's inside? Sometimes I . . . " he bit his lip.
"Go on, finish what you were going to say," she encouraged.
"Sometimes I think that if I allow myself to really feel all the anger that it's going to take over, somehow. I'll start on a rampage and not stop until I've destroyed everything and everyone around me. It's too overwhelming. I'm afraid that I might not be able to control this anger like I have for the past 15 years or so. I don't know what to do."
She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. "I think it would be a good idea to talk about some safe ways for you to let go of your anger. You say you've been able to control it in the last 15 years. What kind of things did you do?"
He realized he had started biting his nails. Something he did as a kid. He shrugged. "Sports, mostly. I used to play baseball and basketball but I've gotten into more independent activities like running and swimming. Unfortunately, that's not an option I have right now. Not until I heal physically."
"What about your support network, your friends or family members that you can talk to."
He laughed. "There's just Scully and she's got enough on her plate right now. She doesn't need me to burden her life right now. Friends? I guess I lost the ability to make friends sometime when I was a kid. I don't know."
She leaned forward. "You probably stopped interacting with your peers because it was a dangerous thing for you to do when you were growing up. The secret couldn't get out. It's a lot easier to keep secrets if no one is there to tell them to."
He never thought of it that way. He always felt that there was something intrinsically wrong with him. "That makes sense."
"What about girlfriends, or significant others?"
Yow, go for the hard stuff lady, he thought. He crossed his feet on the couch. There must be some way to lay on this thing and feel comfortable. "Once in a while I'll have an occasional relationship with someone, but it never lasts long."
"Why is that?" she asked, leaning back into her over stuffed chair.
"I'm not an easy person to be around." Forget lying down. He stood up and began to walk around the room. There were boxes of toys and a white board for drawing. She must work with kids, he thought.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Well, Scully could give you a definitive list but I'll have a go at it." He picked up a cloth doll that had no face and then he found the bag of felt "faces" used with the doll. He sat down in one of the "kids" chairs. "I'm moody, I tend to focus too much on work and not people, I am incredibly self indulgent and I have no tolerance for stupid people." He looked in the bag for a good nose.
"Hmm."
He stopped what he was doing. "What do you mean, Hmm?"
"I find it interesting that so far in this session you've mentioned Agent Scully four times. She's very important to you."
He looked back at the doll. "Yes, she is."
"Why do you work so hard on shutting her out?" she asked.
"I don't!" he said. He threw the doll down onto the table and crossed his arms.
"I think you do. Maybe you tell yourself that you are protecting her by doing so, but that's not really the issue. You're afraid to make connections with people. You're still hiding the secret."
He stood and began pacing the floor. "That doesn't make any sense to me."
"Mulder, you impress me as a person with a lot of secrets. I don't believe these secrets are confined to childhood experiences. Do you know that since we've been meeting the only emotions you discuss are anger and fear. There must be more going on. Why don't you talk about that?"
"I think our time is up for today," he said stopping in front of her chair. He picked up his leather jacket.
"Not so fast, I have homework for you," she said.
He rolled his eyes. "You're kidding right? I'm not going to start a journal and bring it in here every time I see you."
She walked to her desk and sat in her chair. "That's actually a good idea. You may want to start a journal for yourself that relates what is happening to you as you go through this process. It might be very helpful for you to do right now and to have in the future. No, my homework assignment is something else entirely. If possible, I'd like you to share with Agent Scully something of importance about yourself."
"Like what?" he said putting on his jacket.
"Like how you feel about her."
He was stunned. "No. No way. That's too much, I can't deal with all of that. No."
"Okay, then what can you deal with?"
"I don't know," he said and thrust his hands in his pockets. "I'm not trying to be flippant, I really don't know."
"Well, think about it. If you are able to come up with something that you can share with her, great. If you have some ideas but want to discuss them here first, that's fine as well. It's up to you."
He smiled. "What do you know. I have a little control back in my life, huh?"
"Take my advice, Mulder. Don't try and be a therapist to yourself. That's why you're paying me the big bucks."
"Right," he said, and dropped the check on her desk.
End Part 13/17
Part 14/17
"I can't believe I agreed to this," he told Scully.
"Mulder, quit complaining. You know you may actually enjoy this. At the very least you'll be doing something positive for your body," she scolded.
She did look sort of cute in her Quantico sweats. "C'mon, Scully. Me and yoga?"
She put both mats under one arm and used her other to drag him out of the car. "You are going to at least give it a try."
"There's no way I can possibly get out of this is there?" he asked.
"Nope." She had that determined sound in her voice.
She had been tugging at the hood on his sweatshirt for the last few minutes. "Okay, I'm getting out of the car. Cut it out, Scully."
After he was completely upright she handed the thin floor mats over to him and locked the car. "I promise to take you out for ice cream afterwards, okay?"
He smiled. This was . . . fun. "Okay, but no tofu-fake ice cream stuff."
"Arghh!" she said, grabbing his elbow. "Let me help you across the street. The trick is to look both ways before you cross. You wouldn't believe the amount of accidents you avoid if you get in the habit of doing this."
"It's revolutionary, Scully. It's earth=20 shattering. I'm cured!" he raised his hands, teasing her.
"Shut up, Mulder," she said dryly.
They walked into a three-story brownstone. According to the white board the beginning yoga class was on the second floor. He noticed the stacks of New Age newspapers and flyers for different alternative medicines.
"Hey, Scully. Maybe we should go to this guy. Primal Scream Therapy. What do you think?"
"I think, Mulder, that I'm going to start screaming at you any second. It will probably be very therapeutic, but trust me, you don't want to get me started."
He shrugged, "Jeez, Scully. You really ought to be more open to new experiences."
He watched the back of her head shake from side to side. He was profoundly grateful that he was unable to see her current facial expression.
The room itself was okay. The room was quite large but the temperature was already too warm for him. He took off his sweatshirt and hung it up on the wooden peg rack. The floor had a nice thick carpet and there weren't a whole bunch of mirrors like he had imagined.
A tall woman dressed only in a black leotard came out of a smaller room. Her long hair was=20 braided, falling to the base of her back.
"Let's sit in a circle," she said.
It only took a few moments for people to find a place. There were 6 participants and that seemed to be a good size for this sort of thing, he thought.
She put her hands together as if she were about to pray and bowed her head slightly saying, "Namiste."
The other participants and Scully returned the gesture and greeting. He looked at his partner quizzically.
"I'll explain later," she said.
Whatever, he thought. He didn't have trouble maintaining the lotus position, he had always been hyper-mobile. Although, sitting up straight was a little painful. Between his cracked ribs and the gash on his side, sitting in an upright posture was miserable.
"For the new participants, my name is Eileen Murphy, and I have been practicing yoga for 20 years. Welcome to the group," she said.
"Uh, thanks," he said. He saw Scully smile and bow her head toward Eileen. That probably would have been the right thing to do.=20
A green book and a tape recorder playing flashed in his head. What was that? He wondered. It had something to do with his dad's office in the house in Chilmark. Okay, no big deal, he thought. Not everything is a harbinger of bad tidings, he chastised himself.
"We will begin with what is called the hero's pose. Please, everyone stand up," Eileen instructed.
All stood up and followed her instructions on how to do this pose properly. The group watched and moved with their instructor.
A memory surfaced. "Come out of my office now, boy. Don't make me bring you out myself," he heard the voice of his father.
He shook his head. Forget about it, Mulder. Concentrate on what's going on here.
He was able to get through the movement part of the class fairly well. No more voices, but he kept flashing to the memory of the book and the tape playing.
Eileen announced, "This is the meditation and final section of our class today. Everyone please return to either the lotus position or if that is uncomfortable, you can sit back on your heels. I'm going to turn down the lights and turn on some music. Then I will talk you through the meditation."
Mulder returned to the lotus pose and watched the other participants get comfortable. He felt a tap on his hand. He turned to see Scully giving him just a hint of a smile. He shook his head and felt his own dumb grin creep onto his face.
The music had begun. Something new age-y. It wasn't that bad. It seemed very appropriate for what they were doing, he thought.
"Now class, if you would please close your eyes and attend to your breath. Feel your breath as you inhale through your nose, feel your belly rise and then exhale through your mouth. Let's do this for a few minutes," Eileen said.
I am damn good at breathing, he thought.
He could feel himself relax, his shoulders coming down and his back releasing tension.
He heard his father's voice. "You don't know anything, boy. You hear me! You don't know one damn thing!" He shakes me. I can feel the back of my head hitting the wall, hard.
I am not doing this, he shouted to himself. He focused again on his breathing, trying to ignore the pain creeping into his chest. This doesn't have to happen, he thought. It's just a memory. A memory can't hurt me. He can't hurt me anymore. He is dead. This is only a memory.
"Mulder, are you all right?" Scully whispered.
He looked over at her and nodded. "I'm fine, " he said. Could she see the sweat that just dripped down the side of his face in this light? He hoped not.
Flash on the book again. The book has numbers and a name.
Just breathe, Mulder.
Eileen was speaking. "Imagine yourself as part of the universe. See yourself floating among the stars. The universe wants you to be healthy and happy. The universe can handle any problems you might be having in your life right=20 now. Give your problems, your worries, anything that gets in the way of your healing over to the universe. Do it now."
I guess it can't hurt to try, thought Mulder. The abusive words of his father can go into the void of the universe. He didn't need to hold that memory anymore.
Dad yelled, "I said, you know nothing! If you don't start to believe that I'll have to knock some sense into you!"
Damn it! Leave me alone! He thought. There was something about the book and the tape and these threats it was something very bad. He couldn't remember. It was . . . His chest had tightened up and he couldn't breathe. He had to lay down. He was hurting.
"Mulder, it's me. I need you to tell me what's wrong," Scully said.
He opened his eyes. Scully was there and the teacher, Eileen was watching him. Oh, shit! This is not happening.
"Get my pills, Scully," he managed to say.
"Where are they, Mulder, in your jacket?" she asked.
He nodded. The pain in his chest got worse. As if admitting it was there gave it validity and the pain fed on this. He tried to curl on his side. NO! That hurt.
Scully was there with the lorazepam. He held up two fingers. The pain was intolerable.
"I'm not going to take this crap from you anymore! I have taken enough from you, dad. Now tell me! Where is my sister?" he yelled.
"Mulder, what the hell are you talking about?" Scully yelled.
He felt the two tiny white tablets being put in his mouth and he chewed them down. I just need to breathe, then I'll be okay, he thought. Fuck breathing, I need some help here!
"Scully, help me," he said.
She scooped him up and lay his head on her lap and she gently rocked him. "Shh," she said.
In her arms he could breathe. In her arms he could feel sane. In her arms he could relax and let go of the pain. In her arms he felt like he could fly.
End Part 14/17
Part 15/17
"Thanks for driving me here," he said.
Scully was concentrating on finding a parking space. "No problem, Mulder. Can you tell me what happened back in class?"
He shook his head. "I 'm not sure. I'm hoping that talking to Dr. Shane will help put these pieces together for me." He leaned against the window, cradling his sides.
"You look like hell, Mulder, " she said.
He turned his head slightly in her direction. "Gee, thanks, Scully. When you say it, it makes me feel all warm and tingly inside."
He watched her roll her eyes. "Seriously, Scully. Would you come in with me and stay with me for this one?"
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. He loved it when she gave him the "Spock Look."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
He nodded. "I'm sure."
Dr. Shane opened her door and greeted them. "Hello. You must be Dr. Scully," she said.
He saw Scully give him a quizzical look and then she answered, "Yes, I am. It's nice to meet you Dr. Shane."
Mulder went straight to the couch and lay down on his back. He covered his eyes with the crook of his right arm and sighed heavily.
He heard Dr. Shane ask, "What happened?"
Mulder frowned.
"I took Mulder to a yoga class," said Scully. "He seemed to be having some kind of trouble. I don't know what, exactly. He began to hyperventilate and asked for two tablets of lorazapam. After about a half an hour, he asked me to call you for an emergency appointment."
He grunted.
"Mulder, what happened?" Dr. Shane asked.
"I started seeing things and hearing the voice of my father. He was yelling at me," he said.
"I see. Mulder, does the imagery and what your father is saying make sense to you? Do you recognize this as a memory?" Dr. Shane asked.
He put this arm down and rearranged the sofa pillows so that he was propped up a bit. "Yes, I mean no." He shook his head. "Yes, I know it's a piece of a memory, but no it doesn't make sense to me."
He watched her look over at Scully and then back to him. "Exactly what is it that you wanted to do here, Mulder?"
He watched Scully become suddenly fascinated with her shoes. "I want you to hypnotize me. I want to go back and recall this memory completely," he said.
Scully looked up at him, her mouth slightly open. "Mulder are you crazy? You had pieces of this memory come up and it caused you a major panic attack. The memory will come to you when you're ready. Why do you want to push this?"
Dr. Shane was nodding. "She's right, Mulder. Your body and your psyche know when you are ready to handle remembering the trauma. You've been remembering a lot in the last few weeks. Don't push a memory if you're not ready to handle it."
"I've thought about that," he said. "If all that is true then even under hypnosis I won't be able to recall the memory. If my psyche is determined to protect me from this it will." He looked at Scully. "I think this is important. I need to know. I don't want to spend the next few days or weeks wondering if I'm going to remember this thing today or not and I don't want to deal with this piece meal shit if I don't have to do so."
He watched Scully nod. She always understood his need for the truth no matter what the consequences. It occurred to him that maybe given a choice she wouldn't want to be around for what might happen. "Scully, I would understand if you would prefer to not be involved with this. I'll warn you it's not pretty. It's my problem, not yours. I was selfish in asking you to stay with me. I want you to know that what you need and what you want is important to me. I'll understand if you decide to walk out of this room."
Her eyebrows raised. He watched her fold and refold her hands in her lap.
"Mulder, thank you. What you said means a lot to me. I want to stay for you but I also want to stay for myself. What happens to you is very important to me. I want to be here for you, now," Scully said.
He didn't realize how tense he had become. He allowed himself to relax into the couch. "Thanks, Scully," he said.
"I can't say that I'm comfortable with this, Mulder," said Dr. Shane. "I don't think it's a good idea to put this much stress on yourself. You are still healing from physical injuries. You are not at therapeutic levels of your medication. I think the timing of this couldn't be worse."
"I understand that, Dr. Shane, but I'm telling you that I am willing to take the risk. No, I need to take the risk," he said. Dr. Shane didn't look convinced. "Look, I'm here with two medical doctors. This clinic is attached to a hospital. If I'm going to have some kind of bad reaction this would be the place to do it."
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
"I'll be right back," said Dr. Shane. He watched her leave the office and go out into the hallway.
That feeling started to creep up on him again. He could feel himself lose feeling in his fingers. No, that blanket that had been such a comfort to him was not welcome now.
"Scully, talk to me. I'm starting to disassociate and I don't want to do that."
"Mulder, maybe that's a sign that you are pushing yourself. Maybe Dr. Shane is right. Why don't you consider waiting even if it's just for a day," she said.
"No, Scully. I have been having flashes of this memory since we are at Logan airport. I'm ready to find out what it is and start dealing with it. Do you understand?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes, I understand." She pursed her lips and looked down.
Dr. Shane returned to the room with a metal tray containing a hypodermic needle and a vial of medication.
"Okay, Mulder. This the only way I will let you do this. I have on the tray some diazepam in case you become over anxious. I have a gurney outside this office and two staff members on stand by in case you need to be restrained or taken into the ER. What do you think about this?" she asked.
"Fine. Scully, are you still okay with this?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes."
"Let's do it," he said.
Dr. Shane turned down the lights and then returned to her chair. "Okay, Mulder. I want you to take a few nice big breaths and try to relax as much as possible."
He nodded and took three deep breaths. "Okay, I'm ready," he said.
"I want you to imagine a place where you feel safe. Do you have something already?"
"Yes," he said and shifted a bit on the couch.
"Good. I want you to feel your body relax totally. Let's start with your toes and feet," she said. She continued until they had reached his face and head. Then she said, "I want you to imagine your are walking down a flight of stairs. At each floor you become more and more relaxed. We'll start at 10. Begin walking down the first flight of stairs--9." Pause. "Continue down the next flight of stairs--8. You are feeling more and more relaxed. Your eyelids are heavy. Continue walking down the stairs-- 7. Allow your body to feel heavy and relaxed." She continued until he reached the first floor.
His breath was slow and regular. He felt extremely relaxed but still aware of where he was and what was happening.
"Now, I want you to remind you that you are in a safe place and nothing can hurt you here. Do you understand?" she asked.
"Yes," he responded.
"You've told me that you were remembering objects. What are those objects?"
"I remember a green book and a tape recorder playing," he said. His mouth felt dry and he licked his lips.
"Okay, what else do you see?" Dr. Shane asked.
He took in a deep breath and tried to see where he was and where these objects were placed. He felt fear and anger. "I can't see anything but I feel .. . WHOMP! He was out of his body and back in the house he grew up in.
"Mulder can you hear me?" asked Scully.
"Yes," his voice sounded strange to him. It sounded frightened and young.
"Where are you?" Scully asked.
"I'm home in Chilmark.," he answered.
He heard Dr. Shane's voice. "What's happening?"
"Something terrible," he replied. "Something that will change my life forever."
End Part 15/17
Part 16/17
I was home sick, with bronchitis this time. I miss a lot of school. No one at school gives me a hard time about it. I always keep up with schoolwork. Mom and dad don't really seem to care as long as I keep bringing A's home on my report cards.
I feel pretty good, but the doctor says I need to stay home for a week. I am so bored! I decide to go into dad's office and try and work on my sociology paper.
I love my dad's desk. It belonged to my great grand father. Mom complains that it is too big and awkward looking. I love the old dark mahogany and the leather blotter with the gold leaves painted around the sides. Dad doesn't like me working in here. I think he is worried that I will mess up his stuff, but I am always very careful to put things back exactly as I had found them.
I open the drawers looking for some blank paper to write on. I knock over the pencil holder and watch the contents fall on the brown carpet. Oh, great. I get on my hands and knees and retrieve everything. Hey, what's this? I can see a key taped underneath the top drawer of the desk. I mark where the tape was with a pencil and then I carefully remove the tiny key. I wonder what it belongs to? I open the large drawer on the bottom right: Files, papers, books, a box of reel to reel tapes and also a few cassette tapes. Hey, dad's joining the 20th century. Wait a minute. Here is a book: "1974 General Motors Corporate Financial Report" There might be some cool pictures in here. I carefully remove some papers off the top, noting where they were so I can put them back properly. I lift the book out of the drawer and it feels weird. It's a box! There is a small padlock where the pages should open. I use the key that I found and it opens the small lock.
Wow! There are three green books bound in leather. This one says "Accounts Payable 1975 " There are also some tapes, mostly reel to reel and a couple cassettes. I open the book. There are 4 columns. I see my dad's neat handwriting completing the lines of the book. The heading of the ledger reads, "Project Populous". The columns read: "Merchandise received," "Account #," "Delivered to:," and "Payment to:". The last entry read: "7562", "610512", "V. Klemper", "$10,000"
I don't understand what this means. Project Populous? I pop in one of the cassette tapes into the player/recorder that sits on the desk. I rewind it to the count of 10 and then hit the play button. It's dad's voice.
"Klemper and the other scientists are getting greedy. They want more from us always there is something more. He insists he needs to update the computer system to make it faster. He already has the best and newest technology in the lab. R and D have come up with some new product. The group has agreed to deliver 10 units of merchandise for testing for this quarter and another 20 before the end of the year. My god. When will this end? I authorized this project. There must be a way for me to shut this down or compromise it somehow. Dan Burrows' is going to lose his son because of this project. I can't take this blood on my hands any more. Not after the sacrifices I have made."
I had so many questions. Dan Burrows? I went to baseball camp with a kid named Scot Burrows. Is this who dad was talking about? I'm nauseous. This sounds like dad is involved in some kind of white slavery ring or something. He's just a stupid accountant for the state department! My head was spinning. Oh man! It's 3:30pm! I need to put this stuff back the way I found it. There's so much to think about. I suddenly feel like it's real important to give Scott a call.
"Hello?" says a woman's voice.
"Hi, is Scott there?" I ask.
I hear the woman start to cry. Oh, man. I hate it when girls cry. "Who is this?" demands a man's voice.
"This is Fox Mulder. I'm a friend of Scott's from baseball camp this past summer. I wanted to call and say hi. Is he there?"
He's muffled the phone somehow, but I hear him say, "It's okay, honey. It's a friend of Scottie's from camp. He couldn't know."
"Fox, Scott isn't home," he tells me.
"Oh, okay. Well, just let him know I called and I'll try again later."
I hear him clear his throat. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, son, but Scott ran away from home about six weeks ago. We haven't heard from him."
"Gosh, Mr. Burrows, I didn't know. Can I do something to help find him?" I ask.
"I don't think so, son. If . . . if Scottie contacts you for any reason you give us a call, okay?"
"Yeah, sure, Mr. Burrows. I'm real sorry."
"Thanks for calling, Fox."
I hang up the phone. Six weeks ago! I grab the calendar off the wall in the kitchen and count backwards. 6 weeks ago would be February 6th. That was the last entry in the book. The account number! Jeez, it's Scott's birthday May 12, 1966! What have I found here. Oh my god! What is dad doing?
I need to go back into the office and look at the book again. I had to know.
I find a different green ledger marked "Accounts Payable 1973" and turn the pages.
I see my dad's handwriting half way through the page it becomes sloppy. "Project Populous" "Merchandise received 731127" followed by=20 "Account #651121" "Delivered to: The Group" "Payment to - $0.00."
The received date is the day Samantha was taken from the account and us number is Samantha's birthday. Dad knew something! He knows where Samantha is or he knows who has her or something. I have to ask him. I have to do it! I start to put everything back in the desk. I need to think how to ask dad? I need to find out the truth about Samantha!
The lights snap on. I hadn't realized it was dark.
"Fox, what are you doing in here?" dad accuses me. I now have a new definition of "seething mad."
"I was going to work on a report for school, dad." I tell him.
He just stands there staring at me. I don't care. I'm so angry! Let him stare at me.
I stare back, in a silent dare. "I called a friend today. His dad told me he ran away from home about six weeks ago. February 6th, dad." I look for a reaction.
His face becomes very red. I know I should be frightened. I don't think I've ever seen him this angry before. But I find strength in what I know and it makes me feel calm.
"Dad, where is Samantha?" I ask him.
"Get away from that desk, Fox. Do it right now."
I shake my head. "No, dad. Not until you tell me where Samantha is and if she's okay."
"Come out of my office now, boy. Don't make me bring you out myself," he says.
"I need to know, dad. Where is my sister?"
He comes into the office and grabs the back of my bathrobe and pulls me out of the chair. I do nothing. He can try to take me but I'm not going to make it easy for him.
"Get on your feet, boy!"
I refuse.
He pulls me across the carpet and into the hall. I go limp.
"Stand up like a man! You're no baby, stand up!"
I refuse again.
"I said STAND UP!"
He's never been this mad before or maybe he's never been this afraid before.
"Not until you tell me about my sister," I say without emotion.
He grabs my shoulders and lifts me up pinning me against the wall. "You don't know anything, boy. You hear me! You don't know one damn thing!"
He shakes me. I can feel the back of my head hitting the wall, hard.
"I know this, dad. You know something about Samantha and Scott Burrows. I'm going to go get my sister, now. So just tell me where she is, dad," I say as calmly as possible.
He slaps me hard across the left side of my face. I'm stunned but I'm still standing. "You forget about this = nonsense, boy. Do yourself a favor and forget about whatever it is you've come up with."
I shake my head. "No, dad. I don't know the whole story, but I know enough."
"You know nothing!"
"I know you had something to do with Samantha's disappearance!" I yell and for the first time in my life I make a fist and I hit my father with everything I have in me.
Blood is pouring from his split lip. He looks stunned.
I'm feeling stronger. "I'm not going to take this crap from you anymore! I have taken enough from you, dad. Now tell me! Where is my sister?" I yell louder.
He punches me in the gut and I see stars. I can't breathe. He grabs the back of my robe and pulls me out of the hallway and into the family room. I wriggle out from under his grasp and stand up as straight as I can. I'm not going to just take it anymore. I know that he just knocked the wind out of me. I just need a minute to catch my breath.
"I said, you know nothing! If you don't start to believe that I'll have to knock some sense into you."
"Go ahead, dad," I gasp. "I dare you."
"You little son of a bitch!" he yells. He punches me and it lands on my left cheek. I'm still standing. I think it infuriates him. But I am not going to give in. Not this time.
He hits me again and I fall, hard on the floor. He kicks me in the gut and then my ribs. I can feel a rib break there's one more and then another. It's hard to breathe now.
I try to get up and he kicks me in the back "Coward!" I yell as loud as I can. I turn myself around so that I can see his face.
"Your going to be sorry you said that!" he says.
He pulls a gun out from behind him. Shit! I knew he had a gun in the house but I didn't know he carried one with him!
"Tell me where she is, dad!"
"Shut up, Fox. Don't make me do something I don't want to do."
I manage to get up on to my knees and face him. "So don't do it, dad."
I feel something hard hit the back of my head; an explosion of pain fills my head. I'm going to be sick. Damn it! I will not. I'm not going to let him get away with this! I force myself to stay alert and I look up at him. His hands are shaking. He still has the gun on me.
Slowly, I start to stand. Stop! Pain in my sides. No, I'm going to stand up and look him in the eye. I'm up, but I know I can't stand up for very long.
"Bill! Fox! What's going on here?" says mom. She's dropped a bag of groceries on the floor. There is glass all over the place.
"Tell her, dad! Tell her you know where my sister is dad. Tell her!"
Mom starts to cry. "What is he saying, Bill? What have you done to my boy?"
"Don't go near him, Tina. Leave us alone," he tells her.
"Bill. Put the gun away," mom says.
"Tell her, dad! Tell her about Samantha, or I will!"
I feel incredible pain above my collarbone and then I hear the sound of the gun firing. Oh, god! I see my blood spray across the braided rug. I can't stand up anymore. I fall on my hands and knees and start to cough. Blood is . . . Jesus . . . it's everywhere. All over me. All over the floor. I look up at my dad. He's saying something but I can't hear him. I look over at my mom. She looks like she is screaming but I can't hear her. I'm tired and I can't breathe. I need to lay down now. I lay across the wool braided rug. It's soggy with my blood. I know I should be scared. I know that I'm dying. I just want to see my sister. I just need to know the truth about what happened to her. That's all. The truth.
End Part 16/17
Part 17/17
He sat up quickly. "Oh my god, Scully! He knew all that time! *I* have known all this time!" he said. He couldn't force himself to stop crying and he couldn't stop shaking.
Scully moved to sit with him on the couch and began to rub his back. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm so sorry."
He wanted to tell her that he was glad she was there and for god's sake don't stop rubbing his back. It took every effort on his part not to fall on the floor and curl up into a tiny ball.
"Here you go, Mulder," Dr. Shane said, offering him a glass of water.
He didn't feel confident that he could hold onto it. He shook his head no. It was too dark in the room. "Turn the lights on, please" he said.
The lights blinked on.
The brightness of the lights made him a bit dizzy but he felt safer with them on. He took in a shaky breath and wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
"Can you talk about it?" Dr. Shane asked.
"W . . . what did I say?" he asked. "I don't know if I told you everything that happened or I just saw it, so what did I say?"
Scully spoke softly. "You told us that you had found ledgers in your father's desk. You found references to your sister's disappearance as well as a childhood friend's. You fought with your father and he pulled a gun on you. He shot you, Mulder. I can't believe a father would do that to his son."
He nodded and sat back on the couch. He grabbed the hand Scully was using to rub his back and gave it a squeeze before he released it. "Why didn't I remember this? I have a photographic memory? I don't understand why I didn't know this?"
Dr. Shane turned to pick up a file from her desk. "Well, I think I have the answer for you. These are your files from the hospital on the Vineyard and records from Deaconess Hospital in Boston."
"Let me see that," Scully said and took the file from the doctor. She opened it and began reading it through quickly.
"According to your records you had an ischemic event, a stroke, shortly after you were taken into the emergency room. You were transferred to Deaconess. The neurologists there tested you for post stroke symptoms such as dysphagia, hemiplegia, dyspraxia and you came up normal except for one thing. You couldn't remember the incident that led up to your being shot," Dr. Shane explained.
"You mean some kind of intermediate amnesia?" he asked.
"Yes. If it was psychogenic or posttraumatic in nature is not clear." Dr. Shane said.
"You were shot above the clavicle and that may have caused an interruption in blood flow to the brain, causing the stroke," Scully said.
"Well if that's true and the memory loss was due to a retrograde amnesia then I wouldn't have been able to recall this memory. Is that right?" he asked
"That's a hard call to make with you, Mulder. You have a photographic memory and that makes this more complicated. The fact that you had no other symptoms might suggest that the memory loss was psychogenic in nature. It's too hard to know," said Dr. Shane
"Mulder, listen to this," Scully said. A note from a Dr. Maynard says: "After discussing the accident with the parents of this patient, it has been decided that he not be informed of the events leading to this unfortunate accident. Staff is instructed to route any inquiries the patient might have through me." Scully slapped the page. "Mulder, they lied to you. Everyone lied to you about what happened here. Do you remember being in this hospital when you were 13?" she asked.
He lay down on the couch again. "Yeah, I think so. I had bronchitis and I was told that I had a very high fever. They said that I fell down the cellar steps, but no one knew why I would be going down to the cellar. I just accepted whatever they said. It's what I did when I was a kid." He winced at the pain in his sides. At least he had stopped crying.
Dr. Shane said, "It's amazing you were able to recover that memory at all."
Mulder nodded acknowledging her comment. He closed his eyes and hoped the nausea he was feeling would pass by quickly.
"Mulder, you said you saw the name V. Klemper and the numbers you mentioned were on those file folders we found in West Virginia," Scully said.
"No, the account numbers are different from what we saw in the mines," he told her.
"Who received the money?" Scully asked. "You said that someone involved in Scott Burrows kidnapping was paid $10,000. Who got that=20 money?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, Scully. It didn't say"
Scully stood up and threw the file down on the floor. "I can't believe someone was making money off of this Project Populous or whatever the hell it was called. My god, Mulder, you lost your sister because of this project."
"He knew all along, Scully. He was in on it," he said with disgust. "He's probably known all those years where she was and he didn't tell anybody. He didn't tell me."
Dr. Shane said, "This was the biggest secret of all."
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, he was willing to kill his own son to protect it." He felt the tears well up again. He hit the couch cushion hard. "God Damn it! This stupid project was more important to him than his family." He sat up. "Scully, you know what makes this worse?"
She shook her head. "No, Mulder, what do you mean?"
"I've become my father without even meaning to do it! I've shut people out of my life to go search for the truth. I've hurt my mother and my sister because I was more concerned about my=20 needs than theirs."
"No, Mulder, this is very different," Scully said. "We've been working at finding out about this secret and letting people know the truth. You've been trying to bring your family back together, Mulder. Don't compare yourself to that hateful man, not ever!" she said.
"I don't know what to believe, anymore, Scully. I just don't know." He buried his face in his hands and let the tears come.
She came over to him and sat beside him on the couch. He felt her hand running through his hair and it felt comforting.
"I'm lost," he whispered.
"No, you're not," said Scully. "I'm right here with you. Nothing this bad will ever happen to you again. I promise."
He raised his head and laughed nervously. "How can you say that? How can you be so sure?" he asked.
"Because I know you. I know me. We're both stronger for having gone through this one together. We know what to look for," she said.
He shook his head. "That's not good enough," he said and leaned back into the couch, wiping away the tears.
She smiled. "Well, if I can shoot you to protect you from yourself, I can shoot anybody else that might hurt you."
"That doesn't sound very healthy to me, " Dr. Shane said.
They both laughed. This defied explanation.
"What do you want to do, Mulder?" Scully asked.
He sighed. "I don't know, Scully. I guess I want us to talk more."
She cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"I want to know what you need and I'm not talking about office furniture," he said. She still looked confused. "You know, talk like Eddie Van Blundht, talk more."
"Oh!" she said and sat up very straight very quickly. "Are you saying you want to . . . I mean you want us to start . . .? What are you saying, Mulder?"
He smiled. "No, I mean I don't know about that. I just need to feel connected with you. You are the only person in my life that hasn't lied to me, Scully. You know you have my trust. I need to know what you need from me. I'm . . . "
"Go ahead and tell her, Mulder," Dr. Shane said.
Scully's eyes were wide. "Tell me what, Mulder?"
He swallowed a few times, not trusting his voice. "I need you, Scully. I'm afraid that one day soon you won't need me anymore. Hell, I'm not sure you need me now. That scares me." He half laughed. "It really scares me." He looked down at his hands. The admission made him feel raw and vulnerable.
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise you this," she said. "Mulder, I can't imagine my life without you in it. I'll always need you in my life." She took one of his hands and held it between her two hands.
He nodded and gave her the best smile he could.
She gave him that quizzical look again. He squeezed her hand and nodded. They didn't need to talk. At some point they had created a vocabulary of gestures and looks that were uninterpretable.
She blinked and smiled at him. She stood up and offered her hand to help him up. This is what he needed from her.; a gesture that meant they would be staying together.
It was time to move on and maybe even make some changes in the months and/or years to come.
"What do you say I take you home?" Scully said. "We'll be quick. I'll fly you right home."
He smiled. "Scully, I think I'd rather walk."
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Did you know that school officials, school nurses, medical and mental health professionals are legally obligated to report signs of child abuse or neglect to your state's Department of Social Services? If you suspect a child is being abused or neglected confront the parents. If you are not satisfied please contact someone who can help. Parent's -- please don't hurt your kids. You do have choices. Make the right one and do the right thing.
Namiste
I honor the place in you in which the entire universe dwells. I honor the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light and of peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are one.
Comments please to Shell eyore@mindspring.com