Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations created
by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Used
without permission and no infringement is intended. All other contents
are copyrighted to the author.

Summary: This is a continuation of "Experiment in Solitude." (I didn't
think there was any more left to tell either, but that's the funny thing
about writing.) This story picks up where "Solitude" left off and shows
the residual effects of Mulder's two weeks of solitary incarceration. It
also points out who was responsible for his abduction and why.

Although I tried to make this story self-sufficient, it wouldn't be a bad
idea to read "Experiment in Solitude" first if you haven't already. As in
the first story, this one is sort of relationshippy but no romance. It also
contains a fair amount of Mulder angst, so beware.

It's my second time out. Enjoy, or not. ; )

EXPERIMENT GONE WRONG

Completed September 14, 1996

by Frankcina Glass aka DYNOJET

Thursday, May 2, 1996
Scully's Apartment
12:57 a.m.

Scully's living room had begun to resemble the office in the FBI
basement. The shiny wood of the coffee table was no longer visible. It
was now hidden by open folders, scattered photographs of crime scenes
and the life story printouts of several suspects. An open pizza box sat
between the two agents on the sofa. Having gone all day without
eating, both had sated themselves with side salads, iced tea and
pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. No one was willing to fight over the
last cold, stale slice of pizza still remaining.

She wasn't sleepy yet, but Scully had definitely grown tired of the
endless search for clues among the ordered chaos surrounding them.
She looked at Mulder who had immersed himself in some information he
had downloaded on his laptop.

"I'm surprised, Mulder."

"Mmh?" he responded without tearing his eyes away from the scrolling
words on the flickering monitor.

"These are the files we were working on before our forced vacation."

"Your point?"

"I had assumed that you would have gotten the files on Danny and
Author Avery from the task force that was looking into your abduction.
You do plan on investigating further, don't you?"

"Of course, I plan on investigating. But I won't need the files on the
Averys. They weren't responsible."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?"

He took off his glasses and turned his full attention to his partner.
"Because believing that they *were* responsible is the most obvious
conclusion," he stated matter-of-factly. "And you know that I never
focus on the obvious."

"So what *are* you focusing on?"

"This." Mulder picked up the slice of cold pizza from the box and held it
briefly in front of Scully's nose. "What do you know about pizza,
Scully?"

"A rhetorical question, I'm sure."

"What you may not know is that if smashed into the wall just so, it
makes a pretty interesting looking Van Gogh-like design." Mulder
smiled and fought back the desire to slap the pizza onto the pastel
painted wall behind him. "I'll rephrase the question," he said as he let
the food plop back into the box. "What do you know about pizza
delivery?"

"Thirty minutes or it's free?"

"Twice, I was served pizza... with anchovies," he added with a frown.
"But I noticed that it arrived hot and fresh."

"So wherever you were being held was within thirty minutes of a pizza
parlor. Mulder, do you have any idea how many pizza parlors there are
within the city limits alone?"

"A lot. But I'm only interested in the ones that are within a five-mile
range of a mental hospital or clinic. I've already got Teresa in research
checking it out. She's also coming up with a list of distributors of
automatic sinks and toilets."

"Your cell had an automatic sink and toilet?"

"Installed within the past year or so, I'd say."

"What makes you think it was a hospital or clinic? It could have been
one of those posh, minimum security prisons for politicians that get their
hands caught in the bureaucratic cookie jar."

Mulder shook his head emphatically. "The place was spotless, Scully.
Sanitized. I was kept like you'd keep a lab rat. You'd give it a clean
cage to start and plenty of food and water. Then you sit back and
monitor its reactions to the stimuli you give it... or don't give it."

Scully gave a minor nod of her head, indicating that she was willing to
give his theory some consideration. "But you said you never heard any
other voices or sounds. Wouldn't you have heard the other patients on
the floor if it had been a mental institution of some kind?"

"I heard footsteps," Mulder spoke in a suddenly somber voice, his eyes
focused somewhere on the pile of paperwork on the table. "I tried to
imagine what the person looked like by their footsteps. I think day shift
could have been a woman. She wears a white lab coat and turtle shell
glasses, and keeps her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun. Night
shift is a man. He's about my height but heavyset with bushy hair and
thick glasses...." He looked to Scully again as he added, "I know what
your footsteps sound like too. I listened for them, but you never came."

Scully wondered if he realized just how accusatory his eyes were just
then. It hurt to think that he felt she had not done all she could to find
and rescue him.

"You look tired, Mulder. Maybe we should call it a night."

Mulder glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I should be
going."

He spoke the words but made no attempt of actually following through.
He stared at the still silent television screen which had yet to be tuned
from the Cartoon Network. No sound was needed to see that Scooby
Doo and Shaggy were being chased by someone in a monster costume.
Scully watched Mulder watching the cartoon with solemn eyes. He
grinned briefly at the antics of the heroes capturing the fake ghoul and
uncovering the human villain beneath the disguise.

"If only it were that simple," said Mulder sadly.

"I'll get you a pillow and some linen. You can sleep here," said Scully
as she rose from the couch.

Mulder didn't bother to object. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off,
placing it on the back of the chair with his jacket and tie. The T-shirt
came off next. He was working on removing his pants when Scully
came back in with the linen. She had expected him to pull his trousers
back up when she appeared, but her presence didn't seem to faze him.
She had to avert her eyes when his boxers came off as well.

"I'm just gonna go use the bathroom," he told her as nonchalantly as he
would have if he'd been fully dressed. Scully's mouth fell open in
astonishment as she watched him with wide eyes, stroll out of the room,
stark naked.

After relieving himself, Mulder stood in front of the sink and held his
hands beneath the faucet. He waited several seconds before realizing
that the water would not be turning on automatically. He had done that
several times during the day and still felt mildly annoyed at having to
turn the water on manually. As he washed his hands, he glanced up at
his image in the mirror and became painfully aware of his recent actions
in front of his partner. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his forehead
fall against the mirror.

"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!" He symbolically banged his head against the
mirror with each whispered outburst. "What the hell were you
thinking?"

He closed the door which he had absent-mindedly left wide open, then
sat down on the edge of the bathtub to ponder his next move. It wasn't
as though Scully had never seen him naked before, however those times
had been medical in nature. Odd, though he thought, he had just
stripped naked in front of her and she had not uttered a word.
Hopefully, her back was turned and she hadn't noticed, but more than
likely she *had* seen him and was just too stunned to say anything.

"Mulder, are you all right in there?" she called to him from just outside
the door.

"I'm fine," he lied.

"I thought you might need this."

The door opened a crack and her hand came in holding up a terry
bathrobe. Mulder quickly took it from her and slipped it on. For
Scully, the robe was ankle-length and roomy. On him, it was barely to
his knees, tight around the shoulders, and the sleeves were at his
elbows. But it served its purpose. He secured it close with the belt tied
about his waist. Afterwards, he took in a deep breath and prepared to
face the music. Scully was leaning against the doorway to her bedroom
with arms folded as Mulder came out of the bathroom. He wasn't aware
of the nonjudgmental expression her face bore. Unable to deal with the
embarrassment, he simply cast his eyes to the carpet and shrugged
sheepishly.

"Sorry, I...uh... I guess I sort of forgot I wasn't alone anymore."

"No, Mulder, you're *not* alone anymore."

Those words had a soothing effect on him. It was obvious that Scully
knew and understood far more than he would ever be able to verbalize.
He was finally able to look into her soft, blue eyes and return her caring
smile.

"'Night, Scully."

"Good-night, Mulder."

**********

Thursday
FBI Headquarters, A.D. Skinner's Office
9:45 a.m.

Scully had received a call from Skinner's secretary to come to his office
at once. Since Mulder had not been summoned as well, she had a pretty
good idea what the subject of conversation would be. When she
entered through the door, she found her superior signing his signature to
a mountain of paperwork. He finished off one more form before turning
his attention to her.

"Good morning, Agent Scully."

"Good morning, sir."

"Have a seat." He waited for her to sit, then inquired, "How's your
partner?"

Although she suspected that her boss wanted a more detailed reply, she
answered him simply with, "He's fine, sir."

"He stopped by yesterday to pick up his gun and the personal effects we
had been holding as evidence. I have to admit, he looked surprisingly
well, although...."

"Although what, sir?"

"He didn't seem quite like himself. Have you noticed anything odd
about his behavior?"

"In what way?"

Skinner realized that even if she had noticed something out of the
ordinary concerning her partner, she would never divulge such
information to him or anyone else. He decided to let the issue drop and
go on to something more pertinent.

"Never mind that. Mulder told me about his theory regarding his
abduction. He believes that neither Author Avery or his son was
involved. Instead, he feels that he was being used as a guinea pig in
some kind of covert experiment. Has he informed you of such?"

Scully nodded her head once. "Yes, sir, he has."

"And what is your opinion in the matter?"

"Well, logically it would seem that, of course the Averys are the ones
responsible for his kidnapping. They had the greatest to gain from his
temporary imprisonment." She paused, taking the time to formulate her
next words carefully. "On the other hand, Mulder's off-the-wall theories
*have* at times held more than an ounce of truth to them. There is
definitely that possibility that he's merely being more paranoid than
usual. However, I'd like to keep an open mind in this case."

By the expression on her boss's face, it appeared that he was prepared to
keep an open mind as well. He leaned back in his chair and tapped a
pen lightly on his desk as he mused over his own thoughts.

"Although Author Avery *is* our number one suspect, we still haven't
come up with anything that can tie him to this. Therefore, I'm giving
Agent Mulder the chance to investigate this as he sees fit. He'll have the
full cooperation of the bureau. I trust you'll do what you can to assist
him."

Scully was almost speechless. Although it was understandable that the
bureau would do all it could in a case affecting one of its own, it seemed
a bit much to give Mulder free reign based on such an implausible
theory. She wondered where the A.D.'s suspicions truly lie.

"Of course," she replied, hoping not to seem too flabbergasted. "I'll do
whatever I can to help, sir."

"Also, I don't know if he told you this, but Agent Mulder is scheduled to
talk with a company shrink today at two. A Dr. Nettles. It's merely a
formality, but I'd appreciate it if you'd make sure he keeps the
appointment."

"Yes, sir."

"That's all, Agent Scully."

**********

As she entered their office in the basement, Mulder looked up from an
opened file folder and eyed her knowingly.

"Why didn't you tell me about Skinner buying into your little delusion
and giving you carte blanche to the bureau?"

"I wanted you to witness an unexplained phenomenon first hand."

Scully spoke as she settled down behind her desk. "I'm beginning to
think that Skinner has a soft spot for you, Mulder."

"You think he'd mind if I started calling him Uncle Wally?"

"Uncle Wally wanted me to remind you of your appointment today at
two."

"Remind me of it or make sure I show up for it?"

Scully didn't bother to reply to that one. She knew Mulder was already
aware of the answer. "So, what direction are we taking today?"

"Teresa came up with a list of places we can check out. Out of
fifty-three mental hospitals and clinics in the city and surrounding
counties, forty-eight are near pizza parlors. And of those forty-eight,
only twenty-two of them have automatic plumbing; fifteen of those were
installed within the last eighteen months."

"My... Teresa's quite efficient when she wants to be."

"Skinner told her to make any requests I ask of her, top priority."

"Do you think Skinner knows something about this case? That maybe
he has an idea about who's really behind it?"

"You mean like our buddy with the nicotine-stained fingers and black
lungs? I thought about that too."

"You know, if Cancerman is behind it, Mulder, then we're probably
wasting our time going any further. I'm sure he's covered all his tracks
by now."

Mulder sat staring blankly at the list Teresa had given him. "Probably...
possibly... maybe," he mumbled, then became lost in thought after that.

Scully reached over and took the list from him. After a quick
once-over, she stated, "We'll cover more ground if we split up. You
take the north side and I'll take the south."

"I thought you were suppose to make sure I made it to my appointment
on time. How you gonna do that on the other side of town?"

If she hadn't known Mulder as well as she did, she wouldn't have caught
on to his vaguely disguised plea. He wanted her to accompany him on
his search. They had spent very little time apart since his return, and he
wanted to keep it that way. He hadn't had time to recover from his
ordeal yet, and the thought of waltzing into the place where he may
have been held captive must have been terrifying for him. He managed
to camouflage his fear with a lop-sided grin, but Scully's x-ray
Mulder-vision allowed her to see through his facade.

"Guess you have a point there," she said. "Besides, I really wouldn't
know what to look for, would I? Do you?"

"I'll never forget it."

**********

Ridgeview Institution
1:05 p.m.

With the first couple of stops they made, it was easy to see at a glance
that they had come knocking at the wrong door. Listed as mental health
clinics, each were located in a small office complex consisting only of a
few rooms where patients could be interviewed by two or three roving
doctors. The third place on the list, proved to be a bit more intimidating
to Mulder. The Ridgeview Institution was an immense, brick building,
on several acres of land, surrounded by a high security fence.

Scully found herself doing all the talking. Mulder stood to the rear,
studying the place carefully, as his partner explained to the administrator
their reason for being there. Dr. Gruber was very open and friendly as
he personally took them on a tour of the facility. He informed them that
they did indeed have private rooms that fit the description, and he didn't
hesitate in leading them to the fifth floor to have a look.

Mulder could tell as they strolled down the hallway, that this wasn't the
place. Instead of white cinder blocks, the walls were smooth plaster,
painted a soothing pastel green. The doors were similar to the one in
his room, but with obvious differences. And the sounds... there were
plenty of sounds to be heard. There was crying, laughter, screaming,
singing and some other sounds not easily discernible.

When Scully looked to Mulder for a verdict, he merely shook his head,
turned and quickly walked away. Scully thanked the doctor for his
assistance, then hurried to catch up with her partner. Mulder had
boarded the elevator at the end of the hall and was standing with his
finger on the "Open" button. When Scully joined him, he still didn't let
go of the button. His eyes had zeroed in on the tiny, red light of the
security camera above the door. Beads of nervous perspiration were
dripping from his forehead, and his breathing was heavy and irregular.

"Mulder?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice, not noticing until she spoke that
she was even present. Scully glanced up at the camera and realized that
being alone in this small, white cubical must have reminded him of his
recent imprisonment. She eased his hand away from the button to allow
the elevator doors to close, then pressed the button for their floor.

"Mulder, are you sure you want to do this?"

"What?"

"Maybe we should wait at least a week or two. You've been through a
terrible ordeal and you haven't given yourself time to recoup from it. I
understand you want to move on this before the trail gets cold, but I'm
not so sure you're ready for this."

"You're worried about me, aren't you?" asked Mulder with a hint of a
smile. She was going to answer him in the positive, but she halted when
he looked deeply into her eyes and reached a hand out to caress her
cheek. "I'm sorry I make you worry, Scully. I don't mean to." He spoke
in an eerily serene voice that made her worry all the more.

The elevator doors opened as they reached the ground floor, and Scully
had to coax him along with a hand at his elbow. "We should start back
now," she told him. "You don't want to be late for your appointment."

"This is kind of a nice place though," said Mulder as they headed
towards the exit. "If I ever have to be committed, I'd like to come back
here."

FBI Headquarters
Dr. Nettles' Office
2:02 p.m.

Scully stood outside of Dr. Nettles' office for a couple of moments. It
wasn't likely that Mulder would do an about-face and duck out as soon
as her back was turned. Oddly enough he seemed to be looking forward
to meeting the doctor. He hadn't complained at all about the enforced
session and even seemed to appreciate Scully walking him to the door.
He had asked her before if she was worried about him. Yes, she was,
but in a way she hadn't been before. She was worried that he had lost
himself, that the fear of what had happened to him had engulfed him and
swallowed him whole. But he'd be all right in time, she told herself. If
not, at least she knew where to have him committed.

Mulder had already done his homework on Dr. Barbara Nettles. He
knew that she was forty-seven-years-old, married to a politician for
twenty-four years, and the mother of college-aged twin boys. She had
been in private practice for fifteen-years and with the FBI for five years.
She had been published in several top psychiatric magazines and she
practiced hypnotherapy. She was a slender woman, plain looking, with
a strong handshake and a pleasant smile.

"How do you do, Mr. Mulder," she greeted him courteously and offered
him a chair across from her desk. "I understand that you're a
psychologist yourself, Mr. Mulder, so I promise not to waste your time
if you promise not to waste mine. Deal?"

"Fair enough."

"I have a copy of your report here. It states the facts simply that (a) you
were kidnapped by persons unknown, (b) held in isolation for two
weeks and (c) released unharmed." Dr. Nettles looked from the report
to Mulder. "As reports go, this is fairly skimpy. I've compared it to
other reports you've written. I noticed that you tend to add a more
personal touch to your reports. You like to give your own
interpretation of the facts, even a brief history of the ins and outs of a
case. Have you ever noticed how many times you've used the words, 'I
feel,' when writing your reports?"

"I suppose I was trying to be more objective in this instance because this
case *is* personal in nature."

"Here, you are allowed to get personal. I don't want to know the facts
of this case. I want to know your feelings about it. On your fifth day in
isolation, you don't know what's going on beyond that door, you don't
know who's responsible, you don't know if you'll ever see the light of
day again. I want to know what was going on in your mind."

His mind went blank. He had thought that he would be able to come in
here and tell this woman a few things to write down in her evaluation
and satisfy all involved that he still had all his marbles. He had even
thought of getting a few things off his chest so that he'd feel better
overall. But now that he had his chance, his brain and mouth refused to
cooperate.

Seeing the turmoil that was going through him, Dr. Nettles chose to
back off. "Would you like something to drink? Some water or a cup of
coffee?"

"Water would be nice."

Dr. Nettles stood and went over to the water cooler. She filled a paper
cup and took it back to Mulder. He downed the five ounces of liquid
quickly and handed the cup back for a refill. The doctor obliged him,
but used the water as a lure to get her patient to move over to the sofa.

"It's a bit more comfortable over here," she told him. "You don't have
to lie down."

Mulder sat down at one end of the couch, while the doctor took a chair
across from him, notepad in hand. He drank his water more slowly this
time.

"Did you think you'd ever see the light of day again?" asked Dr. Nettles.

"No, I didn't."

"Do you have any idea as to who's behind your abduction?"

"I have an idea. I have enemies."

"Very powerful enemies, it would seem. Are you going to retaliate?"

"I'm going to bring them to justice, if I can."

"And if you can't?"

"Doesn't mean I should stop trying."

She jotted down something before going to her next question. "What
was the first thing you did when you got back home?"

"I uh... I haven't had time to go home yet."

"No? Where did you sleep last night? *Did* you sleep?"

"My partner and I worked late. We had a lot of catching up to do. It
got late, I crashed on her sofa."

"What about your clothes? If you haven't been home yet..."

"I had some things at the cleaners... a couple of ties in my desk in the
basement. The shoes I had been meaning to buy anyway were on sale
yesterday."

"So in other words, you did everything possible to avoid going home at
all. Are you afraid to go back home?"

Mulder snickered at such an absurd thought. "No, of course not. Like I
said, I just haven't had time."

"Are you afraid of being alone?"

Since "No," wasn't the first thing to pop into his mind, Mulder didn't
bother to respond at all. He sipped on his water instead. Dr. Nettles
interpreted his silence correctly. She leaned forward in her chair and
reached out to pat him on the knee in a comforting gesture.

"It's okay. Everyone's been afraid at some time in their life. It's only
human. As a shrink, you know that it's important to admit that there's a
problem so you can tackle it head-on. You can't ignore it, hoping it will
go away by itself. You've been through hell these past couple of weeks,
and you're not out of it yet. There's no shame in needing or asking for
help."

"I'm all right," Mulder insisted. "Really. I'll admit to being a bit shaken
up, but all I need is a little time. I've been through a lot worse."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. In fact, I'm surprised you function as well as
you do, considering. I have a feeling you're a ticking time bomb just
waiting to go off."

"Then it's a good thing I don't work for the Postal Service."

"A very good thing, indeed."

"Look, we agreed not to waste each other's time," said Mulder, in
rising from the sofa. "So...."

"So you're perfectly free to go, Mr. Mulder. However...." She went to
her desk to get one of her business cards. She handed it to him as he
stood by the door waiting to leave. "If, at some point in the future, you
feel you need someone to talk to, give me call. Day or night. I'd like to
help."

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary."

"Isn't that what the captain of the Titanic said when someone tried to
sell him on adding more lifeboats?"

Mulder studied the information on the card she offered for a brief
moment, then gave it back to her. "I'll keep it in mind."

**********

Wok & Roll Chinese Restaurant
9:40 p.m.

As the day progressed, Scully was relieved to see her partner behaving
more like himself. She didn't know if his talk with Dr. Nettles had
anything to do with it, or if he was naturally getting back into the swing
of things. They checked out four more locations with no luck, but for
Mulder, the visits to the mental facilities seemed less stressful than they
had been previously. He didn't appear too disappointed at their lack of
success either. There was still the entire south side to check out
tomorrow.

"And what if we still don't find anything," Scully asked him over the
remnants of her stir-fried chicken and rice dinner.

"We widen the search area. I also had Teresa run a check on any public
or private research facilities in the area. She'll have a list of those
tomorrow."

"You still feel that you were part of some kind of experiment?"

"Actually, I believe I'm the *results* of some kind of experiment."

"One that's gone horribly wrong?" Scully teased.

"And escaped from the lab. I wanna go back now and destroy my
creator before he can unleash any more like me on an unsuspecting
world."

Scully chuckled lightly, amazed that he could joke about his ordeal this
way. Even though his grin was wide and his mood light-hearted, she
couldn't help but notice how sad his eyes were. The hazel windows to
his soul betrayed his outward bravado. When she made mention that it
was getting late and that she would drop him off on her way home,
Mulder's eyes registered both fear and confusion in a split second.

She knew he had yet to go home since his release from the hospital. He
had let it slip unintentionally when he mentioned something about
fearing that all his fish had died while he was away. If he had been
home, he would have found them all accounted for, though he wouldn't
have known about the three which had died or the replacements she had
bought.

Scully had spoken with Dr. Nettles on the phone earlier when Mulder
was out of the office. She told her that she thought her partner might
not be able to handle being alone just yet. Dr. Nettles, however,
decided it was best to cut the strings and give Mulder the chance to go
solo. He knew that the moment had to come sometime, but by his
expression, it was obvious to Scully that he still wasn't prepared.

**********

Mulder's Apartment
10:05 p.m.

Scully had offered to walk him up, but he graciously declined. He told
himself that he was a big boy and that he didn't need a baby-sitter. He
had managed a brave smile as he waved good-bye to her from the
sidewalk. He felt a little embarrassed that she waited and watched him
enter the building. But he had also felt grateful for her presence. He
knew that her car would still be there on the street when he went to the
window to look out, and it was. He waved to her again, a signal that he
was all right and that it was okay for her to leave. After she pulled
away, he closed the blinds and turned to face his home.

It looked the same as he remembered it. He was surprised to see that all
his fish still lived. Scully hadn't mentioned feeding them. She probably
didn't think it was a big deal, but he was glad they had survived. The
place didn't seem quite so lonely with those tiny, aquatic bodies darting
in and out of the holes of simulated driftwood. Mulder knelt in front of
the tank and sprinkled some food into it. With his nose nearly pressed
against the glass, he watched mesmerized as the fish gobbled up their
meal.

After a few minutes of staring at the fish, he got to his feet and walked
over to the answering machine. The indicator light showed no new
messages waiting for him. He had called in from the office yesterday
and earlier in the day to get the messages left during his absence. Most
were of the, "Where the hell are you, Mulder?" variety from Skinner and
the Long Gunmen. One was from the secretary of his new
acquaintance, Dr. Nettles, reminding him of his appointment. A couple
of hang-ups made him think of Scully. She had probably called in hopes
that he would eventually be there to pick up. He had done the same
thing many times when she had been the one abducted.

He took off his jacket and tie, then walked cautiously towards his
bedroom. With his revolver pulled, he reached his hand in and switched
on the light before entering the room. Though the light seemed
relatively dim, the room looked very large compared to where he had
been sleeping. He checked the closet for monsters, then knelt down and
looked under the bed. There was an odd feeling of disappointment to
find that it set too close to the floor and that he would not fit
comfortably underneath it.

He stood up and crossed over to the bathroom. Pushing open the door,
and flipping on the light switch, his eyes fell instantly to the floor tile.
No black and white little squares to be found though. Instead, his was
made up of pale blue, six-sided tiles formed into a honeycomb design.
Resisting the urge to drop to his knees and start counting the six sides
of each tile, he noticed the new shower curtain surrounding his tub. The
opaque blue one that use to hang there and prevented him from seeing
his attackers approach, had been replaced with a clear and blue stripped
curtain. He was sure he had Scully to thank for it.

Next, he went into the kitchen to see what new life forms had taken root
since he'd been gone. He found his garbage can empty, along with the
sink full of dirty dishes he knew he had left behind. Scully must have
really gotten bored, or perhaps disgusted with the mess and decided to
do something about it. The refrigerator was pretty much the way he left
it though, nearly empty. The orange juice was still three days away
from expiring and there was no mold on the bread yet, so he was all set
for breakfast in the morning.

After completing the inspection of his home, Mulder sat down on the
couch and turned on the TV. He watched a bit of CNN, then lost
interest in world news and began flipping through channel after channel
until landing on a familiar movie. Steve McQueen was on a motorcycle,
racing through the countryside with a myriad of German soldiers in hot
pursuit. Mulder turned the sound down, then picked up the telephone.
He pressed the button for a preprogrammed number and waited through
three rings before it was answered.

"Just wanted to make sure you made it home all right," he said.

"You did?"

"Yes, I did. So, I see you made it home okay."

"Yes, Mulder. I'm a big girl now and I carry a gun."

"Well, you know, you can't be too careful nowadays."

"No, I guess you can't... Are you okay, Mulder?" Scully asked when
her partner made no other comment.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Oh yeah, thanks for the shower curtain."

"Think of it as a welcome home present."

"Well, I guess I'll let you go. You're probably tired."

"A little." Scully waited a moment to see if he would say good-bye. He
didn't. "My mom just called a few minutes ago."

"How *is* mom?"

"Great. She just got back from her cruise. I'm going over there
Saturday afternoon to see her. She took her video camera and she says
she's got a half-dozen tapes to view. She wanted me to invite you over,
but I told her not to expect you to show."

"Why'd you tell her that? I like your mom. I'd like to hear about her
trip. She'll be cooking, won't she?"

"I suppose so."

"Then I'll come with you."

"All right. I'll tell her."

"Steve McQueen just got caught by the Nazis."

"What?"

"I'm watching 'The Great Escape' on cable."

"Oh. Well, while you're watching your movie, I'm going to go take a
bath. Okay?"

"All right. Call me back when you're done."

Scully was somewhat taken aback by that remark. There was an urgent
undertone to his voice that let her know he still needed to hear her voice
again. She had a feeling this was going to be a very long night.

Friday
Scully's Apartment
11:40 p.m.

Friday turned out pretty much like the day before. Scully found herself
suppressing yawns throughout the day. She had stayed up late holding
Mulder's hand over the phone. By two-thirty in the morning, he had
finally felt relaxed enough to get some sleep, or at least let *her* get
some. They began their day by checking out the remaining facilities on
the list, but came up empty. Now, the plan was to expand the search to
a wider area and include research facilities and prisons as well. But that
would wait until Monday.

Scully settled down between the sheets of her soft, warm bed and
fluffed the pillows up to a comfortable level that would allow her to sit
up and read. She had plenty of sophisticated and enlightened material to
choose from, but once in a while she liked to indulge herself in the
fantasies of a good, gothic romance novel. Just as she was about to
savor the rich, intoxicating words of the first page, the phone on her
night table rang out.

She'd had Mulder's home, cellular and work number programmed into
her phone so that when he called, she'd receive a special ring. Even if
she hadn't had the service, she would have known it was him. He was
going through a phase. Mulder had two main phases that he sometimes
went through. One was when he was in a foul mood, not wanting to be
bothered with her, not wanting to speak to her either on the phone or in
person. He would ignore messages she left for him and leave her to
worry over what had become of him.

Then there was the other phase; the one where he's perhaps feeling a bit
lonely, a little insecure, or sometimes just plain bored and he needs
someone to talk to. He was going through this phase now, calling her
constantly, pretending to have something important to say but never
quite getting around to the important part. He had already called three
times since she arrived home. A few moments of nonsensical banter,
then he'd let her go so she could eat or bathe, or whatever.

She picked up the receiver on the second ring and with a half-hearted
sigh said, "What now, Mulder?"

"Scully? Is that you? I'm sorry. I must have hit the wrong button on
my speed dial. Thought I was dialing 1-900-HOT-BABE. But, since I
have you on the line, would you care to talk dirty to me?"

"Sure. But I warn you, I charge 5.99 a minute."

"Ooh, expensive."

"Well, you get what you pay for."

"I'll save up." He listened to her chuckle lightly, knowing that he had
disturbed her quiet time, and he was probably keeping her from brushing
her hair a hundred strokes or painting her toenails or doing whatever a
Dana Scully does just before bed. However, it didn't show in her voice
that she was upset at him for the intrusion.

"Hey, Scully, did you know that there's a Bullwinkle and Rocky
marathon on the Cartoon Network tonight?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't catch that big headline grabber on the news."

"What, you don't like Bullwinkle J. Moose and Rocky the Flying
Squirrel? Sandwiched in-between are episodes of Mr. Peabody with his
boy Sherman and the Wayback machine. And it's all being hosted by
Space Ghost."

"Mulder, it frightens me to think that there are fully grown people out
there like you who actually *need* a twenty-four-hour cartoon
channel."

"Well, truth be known, I could definitely live without the Care Bears
and Smurfs, but I do happen to find Josie and the Pussycats very
arousing. Then there's also Wonder Woman and..." Mulder paused in
mid sentence, startled by a sudden knock at the door. "Hold on, Scully.
There's someone at the door."

"This time of night?"

Mulder reached for his gun on the coffee table and undid the safety
quickly. "If I'm not back in three minutes," he spoke to Scully in a
whisper, "send in the troops." He then put the receiver down and
headed for the door. "Who is it?" he asked, standing to one side of the
door, ready to take defensive action. When no one responded to his
request for an identity, Mulder cautiously peeked through the peephole.
When he saw no one in view, he slipped on the safety chain, keeping to
the left, then unlocked the door. He opened it as far as the safety chain
would allow and checked for the appearance of a shadow the hallway
light might cast onto the floor. He relaxed just a bit upon finding the
immediate coast clear. Finally, he moved to the right of the door and
peered out of the opening. He discovered only a package waiting for
him on the other side.

He opened the door fully, giving the empty hallway a quick once-over
before picking up the unmarked, padded envelope and taking it inside.
After locking up securely, he put his gun away, then proceeded to
investigate the mysterious package. Inside was a video tape. He used
the tail of his T-shirt to protect the tape from his fingerprints. It had
probably already been wiped clean, but years of following standard FBI
procedures had conditioned him to take precautions.

Remembering that he had left Scully hanging on the phone, he picked up
the receiver while heading towards the TV. "Hey, Scully, you still
there?"

He heard her sigh in relief. "I was beginning to wonder if *you* were.
What's going on?"

He popped the tape into the VCR as he spoke. "Somebody just sent me
a new video to add to my collection. If you promise to bring the
popcorn, I'll let you watch it with me."

"Are you sure it's suitable entertainment for popcorn munching?" Scully
found herself waiting longer than expected for a response. "Mulder?...
Mulder, are you there?... Mulder, what *is* it?"

"What?" he finally replied, his voice seemingly a thousand miles away.

"Mulder, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"What's on the video, Mulder?"

"A naked guy.... Listen, Scully, I don't think it's your kind of movie
after all."

"What makes you think I wouldn't want to see a movie with a naked man in it?"

"Even if the naked man happens to be Frohike?"

Scully grimaced at the idea of Frohike prancing about nude in front of a
video camera. "You know, Mulder, he only acts like a pervert when he
gets around you."

"And who says I'm not a good role model?"

"Good-night, Mulder."

"'Night, Scully."

Mulder hung up the phone, then sat down on the floor in front of the
television set. He hadn't lied to Scully about the naked man on the
video, but he had intentionally led her to the wrong conclusion as to the
man's identity. It was odd seeing himself there in that tiny, white room,
seeing himself as his captors had seen him. There he was: a haggard
looking, naked man with tousled hair and a three-day-old beard, sitting
on the edge of a small bed tearing a twin-size sheet into quarters.

Mulder hit the pause button on the remote. He wasn't sure he wanted to
watch this. He had never wanted to relive those solitary moments. He
stood up and walked away from the image frozen in time. Was this still
part of the experiment? Was there a hidden camera somewhere in his
home watching his every move? He began a nervous pace back and
forth in front of the couch, tossing about the cons and pros of watching
himself on the video.

Someone had sent this to him. He thought of Mr. X. Either Mr. X, Y
or Z felt that he should see it; felt that he could possibly learn something
from it. Perhaps someone was trying to lead him to the truth. Or not.
He stopped his pacing and went back to stand in front of the TV. His
thumb must have pressed the "Play" button, because the odd little
documentary became unfrozen. Mulder stretched out on the floor on
his side, his left elbow on the carpet and his hand supporting his head.
His right hand rested on the floor in front of him, clutching the remote
control securely. He wanted to be able to switch off the tape quickly if
need be.

**********

Saturday
Mulder's Apartment
1:37 p.m.

Scully had expected Mulder to call her first thing in the morning. When
he didn't, she thought that maybe he had resumed his old lifestyle and
gone jogging. When several hours had passed and she still had not
heard from him, she became concerned. She tried calling him, but
received no answer from either his home, his cellular or the office.
Surely, he knew how easy it was for her to worry about him. He should
have called first before going wherever the hell he'd gone.

When Scully pulled up in front of his apartment building, it didn't make
her feel any better to see his car there in its usual spot. When she got
out of her car, she stopped to feel the hood of his Taurus. It was cool
to the touch, signifying to her only that he hadn't driven anywhere lately.
A number of scenarios played out in her mind, both good and bad. She
shook them clear, deciding to wait until she found out what was behind
door number forty-two.

She knocked on Mulder's door several times. When there was no
answer, she used her key to gain entry. It was only partially effective.
As she pushed the door open, the chain latch kicked in and held fast.
She called out his name, low at first, then with mounting anxiety when
he did not reply. She was contemplating kicking the door in when it
closed suddenly, then after a jiggling of the chain, it opened wide.
Mulder had already walked away from the door and was now plopping
down on the couch. His elbows rested on his thighs and his hands
covered his head as it hung downward.

Scully closed the door as she glanced about the room. Everything
seemed relatively normal except for the man apparently falling to pieces
on the sofa. She approached him gingerly. "Mulder?" Was it really
necessary to ask him if something was wrong? She stood silently in
front of him and waited. After a moment, his head lifted. His puffy,
bloodshot eyes never glanced her way.

"There's uh... there's something you should probably see," he uttered in
a low, shaky voice.

He picked up the remote from the coffee table and held it out towards
her. As she took it from him with her right hand, her left hand covered
his and squeezed gently. His eyes closed momentarily in conjunction
with the gesture, then he stood up.

"Please don't rewind and don't go past 47 on the counter. I'm gonna go
for a run. Don't start it till I leave."

Scully remained speechless as what was left of Fox Mulder wandered
pathetically off towards his bedroom. Looking towards the TV, Scully
saw Fred and Wilma Flintstone having a muted argument. The counter
on the VCR beneath them read 22:14. She was being invited to watch
about twenty-five minutes of something she wasn't sure she wanted to
view. Mulder had obviously watched much more and it had a
devastating effect on him. Apparently, he wanted to spare her some of
the emotional agony he was experiencing now.

He came back into the room, having washed his face and donned some
jogging attire. He looked somewhat better now. He grabbed his wallet
and keys and headed straight for the door. Before exiting, he looked
back at Scully, actually making eye contact this time.

"Stop it before it gets past 47, okay?" he reemphasized.

"I promise."

He nodded, knowing that she would keep her word. "We'll talk later,"
he said, then left.

Scully sat down on the couch and pressed "Play" on the remote. Going
by Mulder's reactions, she knew to expect something of a deeply
personal nature. She had expected to find something on the tape that
dealt with his sister Samantha's disappearance, perhaps even her death.
She had tried to prepare herself for the worst. As, she watched the
video, it took a moment to realize who the man on the television screen
was. The video had been shot with a fisheye lens to cover the contents
of the entire room, which included a toilet, sink, bed... and Mulder.

A date and time of April 21,1996,10:17 a.m., appeared in the lower left
corner of the taped picture. Mulder lay on the bed, wearing, what
looked to be a white sarong. His right leg, bare nearly to the waist,
hung off the thin mattress. His right hand rested on his stomach and his
left arm lay draped over his eyes. He appeared to be asleep at first, but
then quickly snapped alert at the sound of something. He sat up,
swinging his feet to the floor and stared anxiously at the area directly
below the camera.

A smallish man with white hair and wearing a lab coat entered the room.
Purposely keeping his back to the camera, he moved to the right of the
door to allow room for a second man to enter. The other man was of a
larger statue, and dressed in military fatigues. The wide brim of his hat
helped to obscure his identity. Scully could just make out the barrel of a
gun protruding from his hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Mulder," said the white-haired man. "How are
you enjoying your stay with us?"

"The food's okay but the maid service stinks," Mulder answered with a
sarcastic sneer.

"I'm afraid we had to cut back on the staff. Save the taxpayers a bit of
money."

"So I have my Uncle Sam to thank for being here?"

"Actually, you have yourself to thank."

"I bet if I ask real nice like, you'll explain that."

"I take it you don't remember me, Mr. Mulder."

"Should I?"

"I would think so. After all, you have a photographic memory, don't
you? You remember everything your mind takes a picture of. Earlier,
you were quoting complete works of Shakespeare. How old were you
when you first read Hamlet, Mr. Mulder?"

"Sorry, I don't remember."

"Really? Well, doesn't matter. I'm not interested in what you don't
recall, I'm interested in what you *do* recall."

"And I should recall you?"

"Yes. We met once a few years ago. We had quite an intimate evening
as a matter of fact."

Pretending not to have his curiosity piqued, Mulder nodded as though
he recollected the event. "Oh yeah, I remember now. But hey, I was
really drunk, and you have to admit you were looking mighty sexy in
that black leather thong."

The white-haired man laughed heartily. "I like you, Mr. Mulder. You're
quite amusing. I'm afraid I didn't get to see that side of you the first
time we met. You were... shall we say... *out* of it."

Mulder's eyes traveled to the soldier with the gun. His mind seemed to
be working to solve the puzzle. He looked back to white hair and stated
with no true recognition, "Ellens Air Base."

"Are you remembering or are you merely guessing?"

"Something was done to me there. Something was taken away from me."

"And what would that be?"

Mulder looked away, his mind grasping for that lost segment of
information. After a moment, he gave up on the pursuit and turned the
questioning around. "Why am I here?" he demanded to know.

"I suppose it won't hurt to confide in you. It'll be a complete waste of
time because you'll only forget again."

"Indulge me."

"All right." The man with white hair stuck his hands in the pockets of
his lab coat as he began his story. "You see, back at Ellens Air Base,
we used a specially developed procedure on you for creating a selective
memory loss. I'm proud to say it's my own invention. You see, the
mind works similar to your average computer. It files away information
in chunks. Images and sounds become nicely coded and stored on the
hard drive. With computers, you can go in and delete useless files,
getting rid of certain bits of information when it's no longer needed. But
if you've ever deleted something on your computer, Mr. Mulder, you
know there's always an opportunity to go back and retrieve it.
Computers like to hang on to those electronic bits of information until
something comes along to wipe it completely clean.

"In answer to your question, Mr. Mulder, your brain with its special gift
of recollection, is a computer. There's some information it's been
holding on to, much like the Shakespeare you've been quoting. We'd
just like to make sure that information doesn't surface at a later time and
cause you undo agitation. Also, I've been improving on my technique. I
thought you'd make the perfect test subject."

"So... I'm nothing more than a lab rat, is that it?"

"Don't think of me as heartless, Mr. Mulder. I do sympathize with you.
Your stay here really isn't all that unpleasant, is it? Forgive the sparse
surroundings, but we find it's best to keep distractions down to a
minimum."

"You consider clothes a distraction?" said Mulder referring to his lack
of any.

"They tend to get in the way during examinations. But if you're that
modest, we'll let you keep what you have on now."

"It's not that I'm modest. I just don't want to entice the help." He said
that with a wink at the soldier on guard.

"I am truly sorry for any inconvenience we may be causing you, Mr.
Mulder," the white-haired man spoke in a less than sincere voice. "But
just bare with us a while longer and I promise you will be released
unharmed."

"Can I get that in writing?"

The man ignored the question and gestured towards the entrance. "If
you'd care to come along now, I'd like to begin the procedure."

A look of dread covered Mulder's face as he tried to plant himself even
deeper into the mattress.

"Mr. Mulder, I'd like to do this the easy way." He pointed to the
soldier. "This gentleman here is highly trained in persuasive tactics.
Shall I allow him to demonstrate some of his favorites on you? I
guarantee, you won't enjoy it. Now please, come along. You won't be
harmed.... And even if you are, you won't remember."

After deliberating his options, Mulder slowly got to his feet and went
along with his captors silently. As she watched him go, Scully shook
her head in anger and disbelief. How *dare* they! How dare they play
god with people's lives. She was about to allow her anger to grow,
when the picture on the video jumped. It scrambled briefly, and once it
straightened out again, she saw by the timer that six hours had elapsed.
Mulder was being brought into the room by two men in white, hospital
uniforms. He was walking stiffly under his own power, but had to be
guided to his bed. The men turned him around and sat him down.

After the men left, Mulder remained where they had put him. Scully
moved closer to the TV to get a better look at her partner. She had
seen him with that expression on his face once before. It had been three
years ago at the entrance to Ellens Air Base. He had been caught
trespassing on the base while searching out the origins of some UFO
sightings in the area. Scully actually had to threaten the life of a
government official to get them to release her partner. When they drove
a jeep up to the gate, and Mulder got out, he wore the same expression
as he did on the video. He looked like a lost child, frightened and
totally bewildered. He didn't appear to recognize his own name or how
he came to be there.

On the video, he sat there stupefied and shivering from the coolness of
air on his naked torso. After a few moments, his glassy eyes lifted up
towards the camera and he spoke pleadingly. "Can I go home now? I
promise not to remember.... I promise." He lowered his head in despair
and added with a sigh, "I'm sorry, Scully. I don't mean to make you
worry... but it's... not my fault this time. It's really not my fault."

The first time she had seen him this way back at the air base, she was
too angry at him to offer sympathy. It was his own careless actions
which had placed him in such a dangerous situation. But this time was
different. He didn't deserve this. No one did. The tape jumped again to
a different day, and the same scenario was played out. The white-haired
man presented himself to Mulder, who did not recognize him from two
days before. Again he was taken out of his prison cell and brought back
in a daze.

Scully wiped away the trail of tears that flowed down her cheeks, then
noticed that the counter on the VCR had reached 46:57. She pressed
the button to stop it. She had seen quite enough anyway. She walked
over to the window and looked out, wondering how far Mulder had
gone on his run. Not very far, it seemed. She saw him sitting on the
passenger side of her car with the window rolled down. She believed
that he must have been timing her viewing of the tape. She figured that
he was looking up at the window now, not because he had felt her
watching him, but because he suspected that she would be looking for
him right at that moment. He made no motions to leave the car and that
told her all she needed to know.

Outside Mulder's Apartment
2:10 p.m.

Mulder sat in the car, watching the seconds tick off on his watch. He
had never gone for his run. He had trotted away from his apartment
building for only half a block, when he was overcome by a sudden panic
attack. There was this inexplicable fear of being all alone. It didn't matter
that there were dozens of other people out and about, he felt as though he
existed on a totally uninhabited planet. Dripping in nervous sweat, he
turned around and went back the way he came.

He couldn't go back into the apartment yet. Scully was still watching
the tape. Scully was watching him being turned into a mindless guinea
pig. He hoped to god that she would keep her word and not go beyond
the point he'd warned her about. If she rewound, she'd see him naked,
see him use the toilet and wipe his butt while quoting passages from
Macbeth. Embarrassing, to say the least, but he could probably handle
the ridicule if she decided to razz him about it.

If she allowed the tape to proceed past 47, she would see a different
side of him. The frustration at what was happening to him, manifesting
itself in a wild outburst of profanity, ripping off his attempt at clothing,
suggesting that his audience come and suck him off, then trying to piss on
the camera. After fifteen minutes of frantic raving, he dropped to the
floor, exhausted and cried himself to sleep, but not before cursing his
partner for not coming to get him out of this hellhole.

Yeah, that would have been a fine image for Scully to have of her
coworker. Of course, she would understand his surrender to the baser
instincts, and she would continue to respect him, regardless. But he
wasn't so sure he could handle her seeing him two straws away from
becoming a basket weaver, and blaming her for not coming to his rescue.

Just as he had a spare key to her home, he had one to her car as well.
He got in on the passenger side and waited. At the precise time she
should have finished viewing the section of tape he had recommended,
Mulder looked up at his window. She stood there, her eyes moist with
tears. She tried to smile upon seeing him waiting in the car, but the
corners of her lips had trouble curving upwards.. She remained in front
of the window for a moment, waiting to see what actions he would take.
He looked down at his legs and became utterly fascinated with the balls of
lint on his sweatpants.

Scully came down the stairs of his apartment building five minutes
later. She brought with her, his carry-all and one of his suits still in a
dry-cleaning bag. She opened the driver's side door, tossed his hastily
packed bag onto the backseat and hung the suit up on the valet hook
behind her seat. When she got into the car, Mulder glanced at his personal
belongings in the back, and then to Scully with a question in his eyes.

"I just don't think you should stay there alone right now."

He nodded in agreement, then went back to his lint picking. It
bothered Scully to see him so resigned. She could only imagine what he
was going through right now. She was sure that he had been up all night
watching the tape over and over again. It had undoubtedly dredged up
some painful memories and had left him feeling more vulnerable than he
had been previously.

Mulder jumped noticeably at the sound of a cellular phone ringing.
Scully picked it up quickly and answered. "Hello...? Hi, Mom.... No,
I'm sorry, we won't be able to make it today. Something's come up....
Maybe tomorrow. I'll let you know.... Bye."

It sounded like the whimper of a small child. His chin was on his chest
and his right hand covered his face as Mulder lost the battle against an
onslaught of tears. Scully quickly put away the phone, and moved to
embrace him. At first, he fought weakly against her attempt at
comforting him, but she refused to let him suffer alone. Smoothing his
hair down and patting his back, she rocked him gently. "I'm so sorry,
Mulder," she cooed. "God, I'm so sorry.... They had no right to do that
to you."

"I don't remember them being there, Scully," Mulder sniffled. "How...
how can I not remember...? What the hell did they to me that I can't
remember any of it?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I don't know." She rocked him for a few
moments longer until he began quieting. She pulled out a couple facial
tissues from a packet in her glove compartment and placed them in his
hand.

Mulder sat up straight, wiped the dampness from his face, than blew
his nose. His face burned with embarrassment at having blubbered so
shamefully in his partner's presence. Though she was now sitting back in
her seat, her right hand was still petting the nape of his neck.

"I'm sorry," he apologized for the tearful outburst.

"No. Don't be.... What else is on the tape? What was it you didn't
want me to see?"

He shook his head slightly in answering. "Just me being an asshole
mostly. I didn't want you to see me like that."

"Well, it wouldn't exactly be the first time I've seen you be an asshole,
Mulder." She said that with a smile, bringing forth a mild snicker to
replace the sniffling of her partner. She gave his hair one good ruffling
before withdrawing her hand from him completely.

"I uh... I was up all night watching that. I watched it over and over.
And I tried... I really tried. But I just can't remember anyone else coming
in. I didn't even dream about anybody else being there. It's just like...
back at Ellens Air Base. All I remember, is going through the hole in the
fence that those kids showed me, and the next thing I know, you had a
gun on that reporter and you were yelling at me to get in the car.... I saw
something while I was there, Scully. I saw something important. I found
out the truth... but they made me not remember what it was."

"These are the same people, Mulder. They wanted to make sure you
still don't remember, that you never remember them or what you learned
that night."

"But I've got something to work with this time. I've got proof." He
looked back at his apartment building, nearly in a panic. "The video!"

"Is here," Scully calmed him instantly with those words. "I packed it
in your bag."

He sighed in relief. "Then we have them. And I can go to Dr.
Nettles," he added, charged with enthusiasm. "I can have her put me
under hypnosis and see if she can help me bring those missing memories
to surface. Maybe I'll be able to identify the faces and even recall the kind
of procedure they used on me. But even if I don't remember everything,
we've still got a pretty good idea where to find them and --"

"And do what?"

"What do you mean; do what? Expose them! Bring them to justice."

"Mulder, this is the military government we're talking about."

"So? Are you saying they're immune to our justice system?"

"I'm saying that these people are powerful, cunning and ruthless, and
they get away with murder."

"So what are saying, Scully? Are you saying we should do nothing?
We should continue letting them get away with unsanctioned experiments
on the general public? We should just sit back and let them erase bits of
peoples' lives, screw with their minds and make them terrified of being
alone?"

He said more than he meant to. He definitely got Scully's attention
with that last comment. He had to look away when her eyes bored
through him with a pained helplessness. There was a brief thought of
getting out of the car and slamming the door behind him. But that would
leave him out there and all alone.

"I'm not blind, Mulder," Scully spoke softy. "I know it's hard for you
now. But things will get better. Just give it time. But, in the meanwhile,
I'd like for you to do something for me. I've never asked you to do this
before, but I'm asking now." She could tell he was listening, though his
eyes were focused elsewhere. "I want you to promise me that you won't
pursue this case any further."

He looked at her in disbelief. "What?"

"I want you to promise me that you won't go running off to Idaho,
trying to bully your way onto that air base and accusing the government
of mind control experiments."

"But, Scully --"

"Mulder, I'm afraid for you! I watched you on that video tape and all
I could think of were those two missing pilots back in Idaho we went to
investigate. When the first one mysteriously showed back up, all he could
do was sit and pluck out his own hair and make fishing lures all day long.
Then the other one comes back home and his own wife doesn't even
recognize him anymore because so much of his mind has been wiped
away.... I don't want that to happen to you, Mulder. But they know
where you are and they know how to get to you whenever they want.
They let you go this time because they felt you weren't a threat. Don't
give them a reason to do you any more damage."

"Scully... I understand you're concerned, but I can't just turn my back
and walk away from this. We have the tape. This time we have proof."

"For how long? They always give us something we think we can win
with, but then they always snatch it away. God, Mulder...talking about
losing the war, we can't even win a skirmish! I don't like seeing them
getting away with it any more than you do, but they will. And I just don't
want... I don't want to see you.... Please, just promise me you won't do
anything to make them come after you again."

"Scully, I didn't do anything *this* time, and they came."

"Mulder, please!" she raised her voice to emphasize how strongly she
felt about the issue. "Promise me that you won't try to go after them."

A promise such as that was harder to make than it was to keep, and he
knew that if he made it to her, he would have no choice but to keep it.
But he took a moment and thought about everything else she had said.
She was right. From the start, they had fought battles they couldn't win
and each had sustained substantial casualties along the way. He also
considered the results of not making her the promise, and knew
instinctively that their relationship would be in jeopardy. In his state of
mind now, he couldn't afford to be without her.

Her right hand lay on the armrest between them. His left hand
covered hers. After a moment, he nodded silently, followed by a barely
audible, "Okay."

Scully released the breath she'd been holding in while awaiting his
response. "Thank you," she whispered.

**********

Three Weeks Later
FBI Headquarters, Dr. Nettles' Office
11:45 a.m.

Mulder stood in front of the window in Dr. Nettles' office and spoke
with his back to the doctor. "Don't bother penciling me in on your
calendar for next week. This will be our last session," he told her. He
had been seeing her voluntarily twice weekly for the past three weeks.

Dr. Nettles looked up from her notepad as she sat in a chair on the
other side of the room. "Have we completed our journey already?" she
asked while removing her glasses.

"I've gone as far as I care to with you." Mulder turned to face her.
"Don't get me wrong. You've been a great help. You've helped me deal
with my recently developed phobia and I'm feeling more secure and in
control of my life. I feel ready to move on now."

"I'll admit, you have come a long way in a relatively short time. But
what about those memories you told me you wanted to capture? Is what
happened to you during your abduction no longer important to you?"

"Yes, it is very important to me. But there are other considerations
that I find are more significant.... Besides, what I don't know can't hurt
me, right?"

Mulder thanked the doctor with a smile and a handshake, then left her
office for the very last time. As he stepped out into the hallway, he nearly
ran into a white-haired, black-suited gentleman passing by. Mulder
picked up a newspaper the man had been carrying and dropped with their
near collision.

"Excuse me," said Mulder as he handed the man back his paper.

The man with white hair smiled and nodded politely. Mulder went on
his way without a second thought. The man watched the tall agent
casually as he boarded an elevator going down. The man then entered the
side door of Dr. Nettles' office.

"So how did it go?" asked the white-haired man as he settled down on
the doctor's couch.

"This was his last session," Dr. Nettles responded flatly.

"Oh?"

"His decision, not mine."

"No hypnotherapy?"

"No. I believe that he really wanted to, but I have a feeling his
partner may have talked him out of it."

"Ah, yes, beauty *can* be persuasive. But how unfortunate. I'm
afraid we're still saddled with some unanswered questions. Can the
subject be hypnotized into remembering? Are the memories still there,
trapped underneath his subconscious? The experiment's not complete
without those answers.... Oh dear.... A scientist's work is never done."

THE END

Really! : ]