Forget Me Not (0/10)

Written by QofMush
Original Story Idea by Sherrie Kling

Disclaimer: Most of the characters included within belong to the Fox Network,
the creative people over at 1013, Chris Carter, David Duchovny and Gillian
Anderson.  No infringement is intended.

Classification:  XA. Heavy-duty UST, see what you wish to see.

Rating: PG13

Timeline: Mid Season Five, but for the purposes of this story, the events of
Emily/Christmas Carol never happened.

Spoilers: All over the place.

Archive: Anywhere, as long as my name stays attached.

Acknowledgments: Without the following women, this thing would be languishing
in my recycle bin.  Their patience and tolerance is mucho appreciated!  Linda,
who can always be relied on to clean up the sloppy prose,  Lesley, who knows
just how to betaread with the perfect balance of enthusiasm and nitpicking,
and Jill, whose amazing generosity, wisdom, and guidance could never be
repaid. Thanks Jill, for the FreakyFriday experience.  I'm ready to resume our
proper  roles in the Universe. <vbg>

Dedication: This story belongs to Sherrie.  She inspired the original idea one
night while complaining about the lack of this kind of story in fanfic land.
Then, she held my wittle hand when Igot in over my head, and told me to hurry
up and finish! Thanks, Kitty. No gags.

To paraphrase Stephen King - the stuff you like, thank them - the stuff you
don't, blame me.

Feedback: Wouldn't miss it for the world - QofMush@aol.com

"Don't forget about me
When your heart's in the shade
When there's no one to hold you
And you've fallen from grace
When the spotlights come blind you
And you can no longer see
I'll be right there beside you
Don't forget about me"         --Nanci Griffith
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (1/10)
by QofMush

Disclaimers in Prologue - nothing but story from here on out.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The apartment was poorly lit, an old desklamp and the screen from the computer
monitor the only source of light.  The only source of sound was the random
tap,tap on the computer keyboard.

Fox Mulder was actually getting ahead on some paperwork.   He still hated that
he had to file reports at all, but if following some FBI regulations allowed
him the freedom to pursue his work, he could file the occasional 302.

This one was going to require some creative wording - hence Scully's
insistence that he write it.  She had emailed him her scientific reports, and
since they in no way substantiated his claims that these people had amphibian
DNA, she'd told him to write the report.

<I'll show you, Scully.  My liberal arts education taught me how to B.S. my
way through an essay.>

The phone rang, disrupting his tale of FrogMen. <Ah, saved.>

"Mulder," he answered, simultaneously saving the file.

"Good evening, Mr. Mulder.  If I can tear you away from your Touched by an
Angel viewing, I'd suggest you be at Pier 42 at 8PM tonight.  The DEA is
setting up a drug bust. It's possible there could be an additional piece of
evidence you may be interested in."

"Who is this?" Mulder said, leaning over to switch on his answering machine
and tape the call.

Click.

Mulder snapped off the recorder and hung up the phone in disgust.  He
immediately *69ed the phone, but there was no answer.

<Yet another invisible source, thinking no lead is too sketchy for Spooky
Mulder.  Screw it.  I'm enjoying my Sunday evening.>

Even as Mulder told himself to ignore the call, he prepared to leave. Hunting
around the apartment for his Reeboks, he fleetingly thought to phone Scully
and ask if she wanted to come along for the ride.  He hadn't seen her for a
few days, and he kind of missed her.  Scully had spent Friday poring over
Amphibian DNA cultures up at Quantico, and their weekends were usually spent
apart.   No phone calls had been exchanged over the weekend - which was
unusual, but not unheard of.  Sometimes they both felt the need to pull away,
retreating back into their own corners before they could cross any line.

<Nah, I won't call her.  She'd probably just laugh at me anyway.  I'm sure
it's nothing more than a simple drug bust.  I'll go for the ride, see if
there's anything interesting.>

Mulder placed his Sig in his holster, shrugged into his black leather jacket,
and tucked his badge into his pocket as he walked out the door.

Pier 42

The two dark vans were parked a safe distance from the warehouse.  Mulder had
called a friend in the DEA on the way to the Pier, and found that his old pal
Duane Kent, was actually on the bust in question.  When Mulder told a DEA
supervisor that he was FBI and had been given an anonymous tip, he was patched
through to Duane in the van, who told him to meet him there.

Mulder quietly walked up to the van and tapped on the window.  It slid open
quietly.

"Hello, Mulder.  What brings you out for a stroll in this neck of the woods?
Drug busts seem a little too earthly for you," a tall man said as he pulled
Mulder into the van.

Mulder had met Duane Kent years ago when he was still in Violent Crimes.
Mulder had been profiling a serial killer whose victims were drug dealers who
specialized in selling drugs to children.  Duane had been brought in to give
Mulder a list of potential victims.  Once Mulder had gotten to know the
potential victims, he told Duane that he wasn't quite sure who the bad guy was
here.  Duane had agreed, and a friendship was born.

"Hey, Duane.  I don't want to get in the way.  I got a phone call tonight
telling me that there was a bust going down, and that some evidence at the
scene might be of some importance to me.  I wasn't even planning on coming,
but you know me, Sunday night, no life, why not?"  Mulder whispered in the
back of the van, being careful not to distract the two guys listening to the
surveillance in the front seat.

"We're just about ready to go in.  This one is pretty cut and dry.  We've set
up a sting, and these are just Columbians who got lazy.  Actually, this van is
back-up - the other one has the frontline.  So you'll be fine." Duane
responded.

Everyone in the van quieted to listen to the sounds from the inside of the
warehouse.  Just as the exchange was taking place, the sound of a door being
kicked down and "FREEZE DEA!" was shouted by a few voices.  There was a brief
sound of scuffling and chaos, and then all was quiet.

Then the magic words over the van's intercom:  "All Clear, Sir.  You may come
in.  We have an apparently injured woman...I think she may be drugged.  Other
than that, we're okay."

Kent opened the door of the van for Mulder and gestured for him to step down.
"Come on, Mulder.  Let's go see if we can find any evidence that may fit your
bill.  But, as I told you, it sounds fairly clear.  A drug lord, some cocaine,
and a drugged out girlfriend."

"Yeah, thanks Kent.  I just want to take a look around.  Sometimes I forget
what it's like to actually make an arrest," Mulder joked as they walked
towards the warehouse.  He watched the drug thugs being handcuffed and led
into the squad cars for the trip "downtown."

Inside the warehouse, DEA agents and German Shepherds were busy sniffing
around unopened crates - making certain no drugs were stashed anywhere else.
There was a flurry of activity over in one corner.  At first all Mulder could
make out was a frantic jabbering, punctuated by a keening scream.  He heard
one agent say, "Boy, she's really messed up."

Mulder walked over to where the drugged-out girlfriend was slouched on the
floor.  Agents were hovering around, but no one seemed to want to go too
close.

"What's the deal?"  He asked an agent on the perimeter, still unable to see
the woman.

"Ah, you know.  Sometimes these drug dealers like to get their girls hooked on
drugs - to test how good their stash is.  I guess their stash was pretty good.
She's fairly out of it.  Probably nothing a nice long stay at Betty Ford won't
cure.  What some people will do for love," the agent said, as he turned to
walk away.

Mulder nodded, and turned to the poor soul curled up in the corner.  He didn't
know quite what he expected to see, a young girl who had been "rescued" from
the streets by her apparent savior, or a woman who had been played with too
long.

He never expected to see his partner.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOX

Cold. So very cold.  She couldn't get warm.  Her muscles were involuntarily
shaking and twitching as she lay on the floor of the warehouse. She could feel
the hard cement beneath  the thin t-shirt and cotton pants she wore.

Her eyes were closed, and she was curled in a fetal position in a desperate
attempt to hoard some of her body heat.  It was instinctual, any capacity for
reasoned thought was lost amongst the ruins of her brain.

She could hear movement, shouting and something that sounded like gunfire.
Then, there were dogs(?) At least that's what it sounded like.  If she could
only get warm, she'd have the strength to open her eyes.

People came over to her, but didn't get too close.  She was terrified to
realize that she couldn't understand what they were saying.  Her brain felt
like it was stuffed with something and couldn't process what her ears were
hearing.  So, she decided to try and communicate.

"ColdI'msocoldIcan'tgetwarmI'mcoldI'msocold."

This, combined with her dramatic shivering, got a blanket tossed over her.

Now her teeth had stopped chattering, but she kept up her litany, jabbering
away like an idiot.  She tried to stop it, but her tongue was refusing to
acknowledge the pathetic attempts her brain was making to hush it.  If only
she get her eyes to open.  If she could open her eyes, maybe it wouldn't look
so bad.  Maybe someone would help her.  Suddenly, she could feel as if
someone had taken an interest in her.  It felt to her as if a figure crouched
over her, and the air between them warmed.

"Where the hell is the ambulance? Tell them to hurry the hell up - she's an
FBI Agent!" a deep male voice shouted above her.  Then, the voice turned  to
her and spoke in a much gentler tone.  "Scully, are you okay?  The ambulance
is on its way.  Where are you hurt?  Can you look at me?"

She felt gentle hands caressing her shoulders, trying to infuse some warmth
into her body.  It was still difficult to move - her body must be in some kind
of shock.  The strong arms gently tried to sit her up and lift her into a
comfortable lap.  Scully burrowed into the lap, if only for the warmth the
chest offered her.

"Scully, try and open your eyes.  I need to see if you're okay.  Come on,
Scully, just open your eyes. Can you do that?"

<I suppose it's the least I could do.  I'll try and open my eyes.  Later I'll
figure out why he keeps calling me Scully.  Must be a form of endearment.>

Dana Scully slowly opened her eyes and looked up into warm, hazel eyes looking
down at her.  The man's face somewhat relaxed when he looked into her eyes.

"There you are.  I was worried.  It's okay, Scully.  I just heard the
ambulance pull in - we'll have you to the hospital in--"

She screamed.

Using what remaining strength she had, based solely on adrenalin, she levered
herself off the lap of the man she knew to be her worst enemy.  A man who had
tried to kill her many times before. Her only thought was to run, and she ran
directly into the arms of one of the paramedics.  The tall man easily held
her, sweeping her off her feet when she lost consciousness.  As she collapsed,
her eyes, which she had struggled so mightily to open, rolled back into her
head.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The world stopped as the man swept Scully up into his arms and headed out
toward the ambulance.  Mulder jumped to his feet to keep up with the
paramedic, and strained to hear the words the man threw over his shoulder.

"We're taking her to Trinity.  Is that okay?  They're the closest."

Mulder's focus was entirely on Scully as they loaded her unconscious but still
trembling form into the ambulance.  "Uh, yeah. Trinity. That's fine.  Her name
is Dana Scully. They should have her medical history on file."

The paramedic nodded understandingly.  "Try not to worry.  She's in good
hands.  I think it would be best if you follow us there.  Your presence seems
to upset her, and we don't want a repeat performance in the ambulance."

Mulder nodded.  It was difficult to put what he was feeling into words.  He
couldn't take his eyes off of Scully's form being loaded into the back of the
ambulance.  Even after the doors closed and the ambulance drove off, he stood
there, hands on hips, staring vacantly into the night.

End Chapter One
Like it so far? Send feedback...QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (2/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Mulder walked through the doors of Trinity Hospital with a forcibly measured
gait. Last time he had tried to figure out where his partner was stashed
within this building, he hadn't made many friends.  This time, he needed to
make sure he stayed on the good side of the people of Trinity Hospital. He had
a feeling he'd need them.

He had to get to Scully, but he also had to learn what the hell had happened
to her.  And, who had known that she'd be at the drug bust.

His conversations with Duane and the people arrested at the drug bust had led
him nowhere.  No one was able to tell him how Scully had gotten there.
Neither  the undercover DEA agents involved in the sting nor the drug dealers
could remember when she had arrived, or if she had been there the entire time.
Duane had urged him to get to the hospital to be there for his partner, and
promised him that they would use some leverage with the suspects to try and
get them to open up.

On the way to the hospital, Mulder had placed two phone calls.  The first one
was to Margaret Scully.  He told her that her daughter was once again being
admitted to the hospital, no, he didn't quite know what was wrong with her,
and that he would phone her as soon as he knew something.  Margaret dismissed
that suggestion, and said she'd meet him at the hospital.

Mulder's second phone call was to Walter Skinner. He gave Skinner the same
information about Scully's condition, but also added his suspicion that Scully
might be in some kind of danger.  Would it be possible to get some kind of
protection over at the hospital?  Skinner had agreed, and  told Mulder he'd be
by the hospital in the morning to get the story.

When  he got to the counter, Mulder  asked nicely where Dana Scully had been
admitted, and was told she was in ICU.  At least this time he knew where it
was.

As Mulder walked towards ICU he ran into one of the paramedics who had taken
Scully in the ambulance.

"Excuse me.  My name is Fox Mulder.  You just brought my partner here from the
DEA bust down at the docks?" Mulder said, introducing himself to the tall man
who had caught Scully when she collapsed.

"Of course, Mr. Mulder.  I remember you.  I think your partner is resting
comfortably right down the hall."

"Thanks.  How is she doing?  Was she okay in the ambulance?" Mulder asked,
thirsty for any details - knowing that he would probably have to wait until
Margaret showed up to get info from the doctor.

The paramedic gestured for Mulder to walk with him.  "Listen, I think your
partner has had it rough the past few days.  She came to in the ambulance, and
kept mumbling `no more, no more' repeatedly, almost like a chant.  She began
thrashing about uncontrollably, and I had to sedate her.  While I was
examining her, I noticed that she had severely bruised ribs and what looked
like restraint marks on her wrists and ankles."

Mulder's heart stopped. <What the hell had they done to her?> Then he steeled
himself to ask the question begging to be asked.

The paramedic saw the question in Mulder's eyes before he was forced to voice
it.  "No, Mr. Mulder.  It doesn't look like she'd been sexually assaulted in
any way.  Now, I have to get back to work.  Take care."

Mulder thanked him and turned to walk down to the ICU. <Restraints?  No more?
Screaming when she saw me?> None of it made sense, but that was the least of
his concerns. His need to see her and find out what condition she was in was
far stronger than the need to know how.

XOXOXOXOXOX

Hours Later

Dr. Baker knew exactly where to find Dana Scully's loved ones.  Trinity was a
stickler for allowing people in the ICU, and Dana Scully was allowed no
visitors. Oftentimes, concerned relatives would take over the visitor lounge
nearest to the ICU and take turns casually walking down to peek in the window.
>From what she had heard at the Nurse's Station, these two were no exception.

Opening the door to the lounge quietly, Dr. Sarah Baker found herself
assaulted by two pairs of inquisitive, almost desperate eyes.  Both of them
made to stand, until she gestured at them to remain seated and pulled over a
chair in front of them.

"I apologize for the delay.  It's been a monstrous evening in the ER." she
said while sitting in front of them, unconsciously trying to relieve the
tension in her neck.

"Dr. Baker, how is my daughter?"

"Mrs. Scully, it appears that your daughter is going to be fine.  As a matter
of fact, I am going to move her into a regular room tomorrow morning.  I don't
want to disturb her apparently  much needed rest."

"What the hell happened to her?" growled the man next to Dana's mother.

She looked down at her records.<Aha, this must be the "partner".> While Mulder
was right when he told the ambulance that Trinity was where Dana's records
were stored, what he didn't know was that his name had a prominent place
within those  records.  Next to her mother, he was her next-of-kin, and many
notations had been made about his sometimes disruptive behavior when she had
been treated here for her cancer.

Being an emergency room specialist, Sarah Baker had seen her share of frantic
and agitated loved ones.  She'd become somewhat of an expert at treating both
the patient and the loved one simultaneously. It was clear here that this man
needed answers - he was remaining calm purely through sheer will and a respect
for the woman next to him.  However, she also knew that he didn't want
reassurance, but he needed answers.  Answers she didn't wholly have.

"Mr. Mulder, I can't tell you what happened to her.  I can tell you what her
physical condition is.  She has bruised ribs as if someone kicked her, and a
serious concussion.  There are signs that she was physically restrained by her
wrists and her ankles, and she is dehydrated.  I'm running a tox screen just
make sure she doesn't have any drugs in her system, but I don't expect to turn
anything up.  Other than that, she's fine. I can't give you a report on her
mental condition until she wakes up, which should be tomorrow morning.  The
paramedics told me they had to sedate her fairly heavily in the ambulance.
That's not too surprising, considering what she's apparently been through
physically."

Mulder lost seemingly lost his will to sit still and began to pace.  "Have you
examined her for trace evidence?"

"Yes, we have, but the floor of that warehouse was pretty dirty.  That seems
to be all we're turning up.  I have a specialist coming in tomorrow  to
examine the concussion and the strange marks on her head." Dr. Baker said,
ending the conversation.  She stood, and with a small smile at Margaret Scully
turned to walk out of the lounge.

"Wait, what strange marks on her head?" To Dr. Baker, it looked like the man
was about to pounce on her and rip the chart away from her.  She was used to
desperation.  She recognized it, and settled back into her soothing mode.

"That's why I'm calling a specialist in, Mr. Mulder.  I don't know what the
marks are.  In fact, I may not have even noticed them if I wasn't searching
for trace evidence.  They are right behind her ears on either side." Sarah
sighed. It had been a long night.

"Do you know what could have caused them?" Maggie asked.

Dr. Baker turned to the woman sitting still on the couch.  The faster Mulder
paced, the calmer this woman seemed to get.  Gently she said, "No, Mrs.
Scully.  I have no idea.  Don't worry.  I think Dana's going to be fine.  Why
don't you go home and get some rest and we'll see what happens tomorrow.
You'll want to be here when she wakes up, right?"

"Of course, we'll be here when she wakes up." Mulder spat.  Dr. Baker could
almost make out the words mumbled under his breath, "where else would I be?"

XOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO

Monday Morning

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.

The noise was both comforting and annoying.  Where was it coming from?  She
still felt that cotton feeling she'd been feeling, when?  Last night?  Maybe.

At least the cold that had permeated her bones was gone.  She was lying in a
comfortable bed, covered by lots of blankets.  The only sound was that beeping
sound.  It could have been an alarm, but it was too quiet for that.

"Dana? Come on, honey, open your eyes.  Dana?  Are you awake?" a voice beside
her urged, although it sounded as if the voice was coming from a great
distance.

She felt a cool hand stroking her hair to accompany the quiet urging. <Okay, I
can open my eyes, and then I can figure out where I am.  Come on, eyes...>

And with that, she opened her eyes and turned to look at the woman sitting
next to her bed.

"Hi there, sweetie," said Margaret Scully quietly, still stroking Dana's hair
as she used to when Dana was young. "Are you feeling better?  Can I get you
some water?"

Dana nodded mutely and Margaret reached over to hold the cup of ice water for
her.  After she had finished drinking, she stared intensely at this kind woman
looking at her with love.

"Honey, you had us so worried last night.  They just moved you over here from
ICU, and the doctor should be coming to take a look at you now that you're
awake.  I just sent Fox down to get both of us a cup of coffee.  He needed
something to do, and that pacing was driving me nuts.  I don't know how you
deal with his energy."  Maggie knew she was babbling, but she was trying to
give her daughter a chance to catch her breath and acclimate to her
surroundings.

Just then, the door slowly opened and a tall man bearing two cups of coffee
walked into the room.

Maggie felt it through her fingers still in Dana's hair.

Mulder watched it, speechless.

Dana jumped and pressed into the wall behind her as if to escape whatever lay
beyond.  She curled into a protective ball, never taking her eyes off Mulder,
frozen in the doorway.  After a moment, she found her voice and screamed at
the top of her lungs.  Her screaming was unintelligible at first, jabbering
and mumbling...but ultimately she was crystal clear as she impaled Mulder with
her eyes.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!!  YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!"

End Chapter Two
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Forget Me Not (3/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Walter Skinner strode down the hallway of Trinity Hospital.  He'd discovered
that Dana Scully had been moved to another room - out of ICU.  That had to be
good news.  The agents he'd assigned to stand guard in front of her room had
informed him that there was a bit of an altercation this morning, but that it
was under control.  In fact, it hadn't surprised him to find out that the
altercation had somehow involved Mulder. That man could *find* trouble, even
in a hospital.

He turned the corner to find the man he'd been musing about slumped in a chair
in the hallway.  Mulder sat hunched over an uncomfortable plastic chair,
elbows on his knees, head resting on the fist made by his two hands.  His
focus was entirely on the doorway directly across the hall.  The doorway that
must lead to Scully's room.  Two FBI agents stood outside the doorway, looking
to Skinner like well-dressed bookends.  He nodded at them as he went to sit
next to Mulder.

"Good morning, Agent Mulder.  How's she feeling?" Skinner asked.

Mulder barely gracing the AD with a sideways glance.  "Sir, I just don't
know."

"What do you mean you don't know?  Haven't you been briefed by her doctor? How
did she get  in this condition?" Skinner peppered Mulder with questions, while
the younger man continued to stare at the closed door.

Mulder sighed and sat up and stretched.  He turned to Skinner and spoke
calmly.  "This is all I know.  Last night I was called in on a routine drug
bust.  That's where I found Scully - but no one can tell me how she got there.
According to the paramedics and the doctor who treated her, it looks like
she's been restrained, beaten, and that some kind of experiments may have been
performed on her."

"Experiments?" Skinner asked, clearly confused.  "What are you talking about?"

"They found two holes on either side of her head.  A doctor who looked at her
earlier seems to think they are laser marks - residue from some kind of probe.
But, a probe no one has ever seen before."

"Do you have any idea the effects of these experiments?"

"Well, there's a psychiatrist in there who was brought in after the events of
this morning."  Mulder turned away from the AD, resuming his focus on the
doorway.  "She's been performing all kinds of tests and asking all kinds of
questions.  Scully's Mom is in there with them."

"What happened this morning?" Skinner tensed at the question.

Mulder looked at the ground.  "Apparently, Scully doesn't have fond memories
of yours truly.  In fact, she thinks I'm trying to kill her."

"What?  And you think this is some kind of side-effect?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, sir.  At the scene last night, when Scully
opened her eyes and saw me, she screamed.  I thought it was due to her
agitated condition.  But, this morning when she woke up and saw me - her
fright was more directed.  She thinks I'm trying to kill her.  Once she calmed
down, after I left the room, they discovered that she has no memory."

"No memory?"

"None. She didn't recognize her mom, couldn't tell anyone her name, doesn't
know the President, stuff like that.  The only thing she does recognize is me
- and she hates me."  Mulder said the words with difficulty - choking on the
last.  He stared desolately at the tiles of the ceiling.

Skinner tried to determine what to say first.  There were too many questions
to ask - but they were interrupted by the door opening and a slight woman
stepping into the hall.  When both Skinner and Mulder stood, Skinner could
tell that Mulder was restraining himself from running over to the doctor.

"Dr Banez.  how is she?  Can I see her?  Do you know what's caused this memory
lapse?  Is it permanent?"

Lesley Banez looked kindly at the tall, haggard, and slightly unkempt man.  In
order to help her patient, she'd done a little background digging into both
pasts of Dana Scully and Fox Mulder.  They seemed like the perfect pair - a
scientist and a psychologist made for an interesting complement on paper.  By
looking at this man, she could tell that they must have been close partners.
That's why Dana's abject fear  puzzled her.

"Gentlemen, I think we can talk more comfortably in my office.  Why don't you
follow me? Dana's mother will be joining us in a minute.  She just wanted to
reassure Dana a little bit."

She led them into a small office and gestured for them to sit.  Skinner
introduced himself to Dr. Banez, and assured her that he was here in a
personal capacity - that this would in no way be reflected in Scully's record.
A few minutes later, Maggie Scully walked into the office.  The three visitors
sat in front of Dr. Banez, anxiously awaiting news.

The doctor looked at her notes, and then at her visitors before composing
herself to speak.  "Okay, I've taken a look at Dana, and I'm not sure what
exactly to tell you.  Amnesia is a funny thing.  She does have a concussion,
so that could have something to do with her memory loss, but the concussion
doesn't appear to be that severe.  She's also a little disoriented due to the
physical abuse she's taken in the last day or so, and she was dehydrated, so
that could also have something to do with it.  However, I think the true
source of her mental state is much more disturbing."

"What do you mean, Doctor?"  This came from Maggie Scully, sitting on the far
right.

"My preliminary diagnosis is that something has been *done* to Dana.  Some
kind of experimentation on her mental functions."

"Because of the marks  Mulder told me were found?" Skinner asked.

"That, and the strange memories she seems to have.  Dana is not responding the
way your typical amnesia victim does. Once she calmed down, she was able to
tell us who the President was, and she had some memories of her childhood.
She knows her father is dead, but she doesn't recognize her mother.  She has
no medical knowledge that I can ascertain, and she can't tell us who her boss
is, what she does for a living, or if she has a boyfriend or husband.  And
then, there's her reaction to the one person she does seem to know."

"Me."  Mulder mumbled, rising to pace the back of the office.

"According to Dana, you're out to kill her.  She doesn't know your name, but
she's convinced you're trying to hurt her."

"That's crazy!  Scully knows I would never hurt her.  It makes no sense!"
Mulder made quick work of the back of the office, reminding Doctor Banez of a
jungle cat trying to get out of his cage.

"Sense or not, it's how she feels.  And, it's what leads me to my diagnosis."

"Which is?"  asked Maggie Scully.

"Bear with me - this idea may be a little out there - but I'm not sure where
else to go.  I'm hoping you have open minds."

Mulder abruptly stopped his pacing and exchanged a look with Skinner.

"I think the marks found behind Dana's ears are scars from a laser probe.  I
think that someone was trying to do some kind of mind probing, and whether
intentional or not, they've erased her memories.  Her seemingly irrational
fear of you indicates that perhaps new memories have been put in there."

Mulder stared back at the Doctor, stunned.  "So, she thinks I want to hurt her
because she's been *programmed* to think that?"

"Crazy as it may sound, it seems to be the best answer I have for you right
now."

"So, what do we do?"  Skinner questioned.

"Well, I have to get the results back from some of the tests we ran this
morning, but I think our first goal is to get Dana to realize that Mr. Mulder
is not out to get her.  Since he's the only one she remembers right now, I
think he's the key to unlocking her other memories.  But, we also have to try
and figure out if it's even possible that there are memories still  there.
And, we have to convince her that her memories of Mulder are false.  They are
false, aren't they?"  Banez looked at Mulder searchingly.

"Of course they're false!"  Maggie spat, standing to defend Mulder, who had
dropped his gaze at the question.  "Fox would never hurt Dana!  He's her
partner, Dana trusts him with her life!"

"Mrs. Scully - - " Mulder began.

"No, Fox.  I agree, the first thing that we need to do, is to show Dana that
you are her friend.  I'll be in there and will help you.  She believes that
I'm her mother, even if she doesn't *know* it yet, and she seems to trust me."
Maggie said, walking over to where Mulder stood, lost, in the corner of the
office.  "Fox, she'll come back.  She always has before."

"I agree, Mrs. Scully," Skinner responded, looking at Dr. Banez with
conviction.  "Agent Mulder would never hurt Scully, and I think he may be the
key to her memories."

Dr. Banez shrugged.  "Look, I had to make sure.  I believe you that you aren't
out to get Dana.  I also  think your relationship is going to be the means to
determine whether we  have any hope of getting her memories back.  However,
you have to be prepared for her fear.  If you're telling me it has no basis on
reality, odds are she has been implanted in some way.  It's up to us to fight
through that and get to the truth of your relationship.  Are you ready for
that?"

Mulder nodded, still staring at the floor.

On the way to Scully's room , Dr. Banez explained how she wanted it to go.
She and Maggie would walk in first, and Skinner would follow to see if Scully
recognized him.  Then, Mulder would walk in last, when Scully felt safe.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

She sat there in silence, trying hard to remember things.  Anything.  Her
brain still felt fuzzy, and she was having trouble breathing due to the
bruised ribs.

This was all so confusing. <Alice, Alice down the rabbit hole.> That's just
what she felt like, and Dr. Banez, of all the questions and no answers,
reminded her of the caterpillar.

<Wait, how do I know the plot to Alice in Wonderland, and I can't remember my
own mother?>

It scared her.  But, not as much as the man who was trying to kill her.  She'd
seen him twice since this whole nightmare began. Each time, she had screamed
to alert everyone that he was evil.  It had worked, and she was still safe.
But no one knew when he'd come back. She didn't even know why he was trying to
kill her - just that he was.

<Hopefully, my memories come back before he does.>

Her mother and Dr. Banez came through the door and sat on each side of her.
The doctor began speaking to her, while her mother took her hand.

"Dana, we're going to bring in a few people  and see if you recognize them.
They are people who are important to you, and we want to see if it triggers
anything, okay?"

Dana tensed up, but forced herself  to relax.  She was in the middle of a
hospital, no one could hurt her here.  Her mom was gently rubbing her hand,
and she felt reassured.  She nodded, giving her permission for her first
"visitor".

Solid.  That was the first word Dana could come up with to describe the man
who walked through the door.  He was solidly built, well dressed in a
conservative suit, balding and with glasses.  Behind the glasses hid
determined, yet oddly kind eyes.  "Good morning, Scully.  How are you?" he
quietly asked.

Dana looked at him closely, trying desperately to find any kind of
familiarity.  Anywhere.  None.  "I've felt better, sir." <Sir?  Where did that
come from?>

A look was exchanged between the man and Dr. Banez, before Dr. Banez asked,
"Do you know who this man is?"

Dana shrugged and shook her head no.  "That's okay, honey...you'll remember
him soon," Maggie reassured.

The solid man walked over to the corner of the room to make room for the next
person through the door.

Dana froze  as she caught sight of the tall man again. <nononononononononono>

Maggie tightened her grip on Dana's hand as Dana began to rock back and forth,
trying desperately to control her fear. <He can't hurt me in front of all
these people...he won't> She didn't take her eyes off of the man, who looked
anything but threatening standing at the foot of her bed.  If she didn't know
better, she would swear she saw caring and kindness in the hazel eyes that
shone down on her.

Dr. Banez asked her, "Dana, what can you tell me about this man?"

But Dana couldn't answer.  Her eyes darted all through the room - looking at
the man in the corner, her doctor, the machines next to the bed and her
mother.  Anywhere but at *him*.  She rocked back and forth, chanting quietly,
"pleasedonthurtmenothingelsematterspleasedonthurtme"

Maggie ran the hand not grasping Dana's through Dana's hair.  "Now, honey.
This is Fox.  Fox isn't going to hurt you.  He's your friend.  Fox would never
hurt you."

<Fox?>

Suddenly, Dana's chant changed.  Pausing her rocking for a moment, she raised
her eyes to search the hazel ones still gazing down at her with such sadness.
She could tell he was trying mightily to keep his face neutral, but his eyes
spoke to her of such pain and sadness.  Hauntingly familiar, as if she'd seen
the pain before.  She relaxed, and her eyes skittered away from his.  Turning
to her mother she quietly mumbled, "Not Fox...Mulder.  His name is Mulder."

End Chapter Three
In case you forgot...QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (4/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

After Dana's proclamation, the room was silent except for the quiet noises
being emitted from the various machines monitoring her health. Everyone in the
room waited for the next words out of the slight redhead's mouth.

Mulder stood as quietly as he was capable.  It was hard for Mulder to stay
still, but he knew it was important; Scully had made some kind of
breakthrough, and any sudden movement could send her back to the world where
he was the bad guy.

Quietly, Dr. Banez asked,  "Dana, did you say his name was Mulder? What do you
remember about him?"

Scully still refused to look at Mulder.  Instead she directed her comments at
the doctor while gripping her mother's hand.  "I..don't know.  I just know his
name is Mulder.  He even made his parents call him that.  Not Fox."

Banez looked up at Mulder, questioningly.

"It's something I told her years ago."

"How long ago?" Banez asked.

"Early in our working relationship.  Four years ago? It was something I said
as a joke, but it's always stood." Mulder shrugged.

"Do you remember anything else about him, Dana?"  Banez asked gently.

Scully shook her head, as if to clear the cobwebs.  She dropped her mother's
hand, smoothed the blankets covering her lap, and straightened her spine.
Although still frightened, she raised her chin and stared directly at Mulder,
trying desperately to remember.

<Come on, Scully> he willed.  He felt his insides churning within him.  Mulder
had always relied on the connection that he and Scully shared just by looking
at each other.  It often came in handy during their investigations - but it
was never more important than now - or more fragile.

After a long look, the fear returned in her eyes, and she dropped her gaze.
"I - I'm sorry.  There are visions, and they are all confused.  He's in my
doorway - but it's not him.  He throws me up against the wall - he's so angry.
He holds me against the wall - he needs to know where he is.  Where who is?
He tosses me against a table - I break it.  I'm hurt.  But, it's not him.
It's him  - but it's not him.  Oh, God - please don't kill me."

"Shh...honey.  You're okay.  You'll be fine."  Maggie soothed Dana, who had
begun to rock anew.
 

Doctor Banez looked up at Mulder accusingly.

"She's remembering an incident where someone disguised as me hurt her.  It
wasn't me.  It was someone who *looked* like me."

Skinner spoke up from the corner "He's right.  They did encounter someone who
had the ability to make himself look like Mulder.  That person went after
Scully to get to Mulder.  That's what she's remembering."

"And this happens often? " Banez asked sarcastically.

Mulder figured he'd risk it, and asked gently  "Scully?  Do you remember what
happened?  He looked like me, but he changed to look like the other man,
right?"

"I don't know..I can't remember." she said, looking like she wanted to flinch
when she heard his voice.  "I also can see him holding a gun on me.  But it's
dark.  He's acting crazy - I'm trying to get him to put it down.  But, I can't
see him. I stay really still. *Do you want to shoot me Mulder?*...but it's
hard to see - I can't see  - *Let it go*..."

Sitting cross legged on the bed, it appeared as if she was watching television
in her mind.  They all watched her eyes move back and forth rapidly as if she
were replaying a video tape on fast-forward.  Her fingers grasped and released
the blankets on the bed in time to the quiet rocking.

Maggie moved as if to snap her out of it, but was forestalled by Dr. Banez who
spoke softly.  "Let's see where this takes us.  No one make a sound - I only
want her to be aware of my voice." She turned back to her patient.  "Dana,
keep telling me what you see.  Where are you now?"

"I - um, I'm in the cold.  It's so cold.  It's icy.  He's there again - but
this time I'm holding a gun on him too.  We're both holding guns on each other
- no one wants to drop it. *Mulder, you may not be who you are.* He's shouting
at me. *Get that gun off me!* I can't.  He may hurt us all.  He may have that
thing inside him. We have to lock him up. It's for his own good."

Silently, Mulder nodded to Banez's unspoken question that the last two
scenarios were "true" memories.  She rolled her eyes in disbelief and turned
to calm her patient.

"Shhh, shhh, Dana.  It's okay.  He can't hurt you.  Go somewhere else, can
you?"

Scully relaxed for a moment, dropping her head and staring at her crossed
knees.  Then the trance began again.  She threw back her head and screamed,
"Mulder!  Give me the gun!...You bastard!" She slammed her fist on the bed.
Suddenly she quieted..."He's pointing a gun at me in a hospital.  But he
doesn't want to kill me. *You are stronger than this, Mulder.  Fight him.*
Come on, Mulder, please.  You can do this.  If I keep talking - maybe I can
talk him out of this.  He's struggling so hard...he doesn't want to shoot me.
*Damn You!* He's telling me to run, but I can't leave him there.  I can't!  I
can actually see the barrel moving as his finger tightens.  Oh, God, no.
Please stop this.  I'm afraid, I'm so afraid...."

"What are you afraid of, Dana?  Are you afraid of him?  Are you afraid
Mulder's going to kill you?" Banez asked.

"Nononono.  That's not it at all.  I`m so afraid.  I'm afraid if he shoots me,
he'll shoot himself.  He doesn't want to hurt me.  He doesn't!  I'm not afraid
of him.  But, I am.  I don't understand.  Help me understand...please?" she
whispered brokenly, collapsing into her mother's arms.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

A weary foursome once again took up residence in the doctor's office.  Dr.
Banez sat behind her desk with Maggie Scully opposite her.  Mulder and Skinner
took turns sitting and pacing.

After Dana's impromptu self-hypnosis, Dr. Banez had ushered everyone out of
the room to give Dana a break.  She knew that these kinds of sessions were
draining, and that Dana was confused and exhausted.  She also needed to time
to figure out just what they were going to do.

"So, now that we've determined that these memories of Dana's are *true*,"
Lesley said with some skepticism, "I may have to revise my original
diagnosis."

"What do you mean, Doctor?"  Maggie leaned forward.

"Well, I originally thought that Dana had been *programmed* to think Mulder
was out to get her.  Now, it almost looks like certain memories have just been
brought to the forefront of her memory."

"Memories of instances where I tried to kill her." Mulder whispered, moodily
gazing through the window of the office.

Skinner stopped his pacing to look over at the Agent. "Yes, but it seems as if
she's fighting those memories, right Doctor?  She believes them, but she's
fighting what they're telling her."

Banez nodded.  "I think, as is evidenced by the last memory we witnessed, that
Dana is starting to *see* that Mulder may not be out to get her.  That things
may have happened in the past, but that there may be an explanation.  She has
to live through them again to get to the truth."

"Which means I have to live through them again."  Mulder mumbled dejectedly.

"If you want to help her, you do." Banez stressed.  "You have to be there for
her every step of the way.  Work through these bad memories, and help her see
some of the strength of your relationship.  Obviously, she used to trust you
with her life.  When she allows herself to remember, she's remembering being
more afraid *for*  you than *of* you. That's what is so scary for her.
Somehow, she's been *told* you are out to get her - but her own mind is
telling her that it's not true.  Do you see how this could be confusing?"

When Lesley had Mulder's full attention, she continued.  "Not to mention the
physical abuse she's had the past few days.  No, Dana did "not" have a nice
weekend.  According to these tests, she has bruised ribs and definite marks on
her wrists and ankles that indicate restraints.  I have the results from the
trace test you ordered, there's nothing here.  The tox report shows nothing
either.  We have absolutely no idea where she was, but we know she wasn't
there because she wanted to be."

Skinner spoke up. "I've had a forensic team at Scully's apartment since this
morning.  They report that there are signs of a struggle, Scully's gun is
missing, and the door looks as if it's been forced open.  Conversations with
neighbors have turned up nothing.  Somehow, someone got into her apartment and
took her.  We don't know why, and we don't know when."

"Dammit!  So, someone just showed up in the middle of the day and took her?
Who are these people?" Mulder shouted.

"Agent Mulder, why don't you let me try and solve that?  I just wanted to make
you aware of the situation."

"But, Sir, don't you see that we can't take any risks?  If they took her once,
they'll take her again.  We have to protect her." Mulder said, agitatedly
running his fingers through his hair.

"You're right, Mulder.  We should probably put her in a safe house somewhere.
Under constant protection while she recovers, and while I try and determine if
she's still in immediate danger."

"Safe house?  I thought those were just in the movies."  Banez said.

"No, Doctor.  We do have places where we can *hide* witnesses or agents in
trouble," Skinner replied.  "We'll have to find one that's close to this
hospital so Scully can continue working with you."

"Well, actually, the safe house presents the perfect opportunity for Scully to
begin her rehabilitation." Banez said thoughtfully.

Maggie nodded enthusiastically.  "I think a quiet house would be the perfect
place for Dana to try and recuperate.  If she's taken away from everything,
she may be able to relax and remember.  I'll stay with her, and I can help
her."

Dr. Banez nodded kindly at Maggie.  "I agree that Dana needs some peace and to
get away for awhile.  Her physical injuries will heal within a few days, but
the mental ones may require a little longer.  I think if she's allowed time to
sit and think, I can't see why her memories won't start slowly coming back.
She'll just need a little push and lots of help.  Unfortunately, Mrs. Scully,
I don't think you're  the one who should be Dana's helper."

Silence reigned as three pairs of eyes turned to look at the obvious choice to
be Dana's* helper*.

"Mulder, you have training as a psychologist, don't you?" Banez asked.

End Chapter Four
Not saying a word...QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (5/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The hospital room where Dana Scully slept was quiet.  A silent sentry stood in
the corner, making certain that no one would disturb his charge.  To Mulder,
the two FBI agents outside the room were added insurance  - he was the true
protector.  If anyone wanted to get to Scully, they  would have to go through
Fox Mulder.

<God, I sound like a bad action movie.>

Mulder pulled a chair over into the shadows and sat.  It appeared that Scully
was in a deep sleep, and he had to admit that he was relieved for the
temporary reprieve.  It gave him time to gather his thoughts for the
conversation they were about to have.  The conversation where he had to ask
the woman who could barely look him in the eye to trust him with her life.

Dr. Banez was nothing if not persuasive.  When she first told Skinner, Maggie
and Mulder of her idea that Mulder be both Scully's bodyguard and
psychologist, all three of them were variations of skeptical.  Skinner thought
the idea had merits, Maggie hated that she wouldn't be able to help her
daughter, and Mulder was just plain terrified.  Scully meant too much to him
for him to screw this up.  He was better at getting inside the heads of bad
guys, he had never had much experience at trying to unravel a "good" mind.
And, a mind whom he respected more than any other on this planet.

But, Dr. Banez persevered and before long, he grudgingly agreed. Skinner
assured him that he would put his best agents on the case to find out who had
done this to Scully, and Maggie had given him that *look* that pleaded with
him to help her daughter.  A Scully woman so rarely asked him for anything
that when one of them did, he couldn't refuse.

He and Scully were  supposed to leave for the safe house later this evening.
Mulder had spent close to four hours with Lesley Banez going over possible
situations and treatments.  He walked away from his crash course in amnesia
with a pounding headache and a cart full of psych texts and medical journals
on memory loss.  She had also dug up medical journals on forensic medicine for
Scully.  They weren't quite sure how much of Scully's medical knowledge had
been lost, and Banez thought these may jar her memory.    Mulder's interest in
regression hypnotherapy could also possibly be useful.

Maggie had run to Dana's apartment and packed some things for her. She packed
clothes, but she also had thrown together a collection of "memories" from
Dana's life.  CDS, novels, photo albums, and random knickknacks had been
tossed in a bag and packed into the back of the Ford Explorer.  Maggie had
also insisted on packing for Mulder, who, though embarrassed, knew that he'd
rather have Maggie do it than leave Scully's side.

A few phone calls by the Assistant Director had the safe house secured and
stocked with groceries, firewood, and modern computer equipment equipped with
a high speed modem to get into the FBI mainframe.  Skinner had given Mulder
the location on a slip of paper, insisting that they were the only two people
who knew it.  They then concocted a bogus 302 that had Agents Mulder and
Scully investigating lights in the sky over Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  Anyone
who would possibly be interested in their whereabouts could leave messages on
their voice mail.

<My bags are packed, I'm ready to go...> Mulder sang softly to himself.  Now,
all that was left was to convince the patient to come willingly.  He wanted to
let her sleep, but he also wanted to leave under the cover of darkness.  He
still worried that the mysterious people who had taken her would want her
again.

Both Maggie and Dr. Banez agreed that Mulder had to jump in feet first with
this one.  That he had to be the one to tell Scully what the plan was, and
that she had to agree to it because he was the one asking.  If Scully refused,
they were back to square one.  To keep the charade going for anyone who may
have been watching, Maggie had bid Mulder goodnight, telling him she'd be back
in the morning.

So, Mulder waited and watched.  He never tired of watching Dana Scully - and
part of him was in no hurry for her to wake up.  He knew once she awoke, his
peace was over and their mutual terror begun.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

She slept without dreaming. <I guess my subconscious can't remember how to
dream, either,> she thought wryly.

The fuzziness leaving her brain indicated to her that her sleep was finished
for the time being.  As her conscious and subconscious passed each other
within her brain, she began to get the feeling that she was being watched..
Her watcher was not a voyeuristic one, but benevolent.  It was  not unlike the
feeling she used to have when she was a child and her father or mother would
peek in on her to make sure she was sleeping.  Luckily for her, she had always
had great hearing and was able to turn off the flashlight and hide the trashy
novel under the covers until the watcher was satisfied that she slept safely.

<Again, with the childhood memories.  How about what happened yesterday?> She
thought angrily.

Scully turned over and slowly opened her eyes to see a figure sitting silently
in the shadows of her room.  Squinting and sitting up, she asked forcefully
"Who's there?"  She winced when she rose, her concern for her mystery visitor
making her forget her bruised ribs.

Slowly, the silent figure stood and pulled his chair towards her bed.  The
hazel eyes never leaving her blue ones, he spoke in hushed tones, "Scully,
it's me."

Her eyes widened and she sat up ramrod straight, trying not to let her
instinctual repulsion at hearing his voice be that obvious. "Yes, what do you
want?"

Mulder had spent too long learning the body language of Dana Scully to miss
it.  He was sure if he could allow himself to feel, he would have felt another
small slash in his heart, to speed up the bloodletting.  But, he was not
allowed the luxury of feeling right now.  Right now, he had to convince her to
come with him.

"Scully, we think you may still be in danger.  You can't remember, but someone
`took' you from your apartment and did these things to you.  These things that
are causing you to not remember me, or your recent life.  Now, I know you
don't remember me - "

"I remember you.  You're out to kill me."  Scully said evenly, as if she was
informing him of her latest autopsy findings.

Mulder sighed and leaned forward.  He was careful not to invade her space -
something that came naturally to him when it came to her - because his
objective was to soothe, not frighten.  He clasped his hands in front of him
to prevent them from touching her, something he was desperate to do, although
he was certain it would be disastrous.

"Scully, for some reason they have allowed you to remember only the terrible
memories we've shared.  Yes, everything you remember so far did happen - but
those aren't our only memories.  You said it yourself - when we faced Modell,
I pulled a gun on you, but I didn't want to shoot you.  Doesn't that tell you
something?  Also, if I was truly out to kill you, wouldn't I have taken care
of it by now?  Isn't there anything in there that tells you that I'm not Dr.
Doom?" Mulder spewed out rapidly, gesturing towards her head.

Scully cocked her head and regarded him quietly.  Her gaze took in the
unshaven face, hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in about 3 days,
and trembling lower lip before she allowed herself to make eye contact.  From
a purely analytical standpoint, this man in front of her looked like a nervous
wreck.  His hands refused to stay still, clasping and unclasping in his lap,
as he allowed her to regard him.  When she finally made eye contact, she was
assaulted anew by the pain lurking behind the hazel eyes that gazed at her
steadily.  The pain she recognized.  She'd seen it before.  And, not just
earlier that day.  For some reason, his pain gave her strength.

"So, Mulder" she said with a question, as if trying out his name on her tongue
for the first time, "if I am to believe that you aren't out to get me, what
happens then?"

"Well, it might make what I'm about to say a little easier to take." Mulder
said wryly, allowing the ghost of a smile to play around his lips.

Scully gestured for him to continue.

Mulder saw the opening, and jumped in.  This part felt achingly familiar, as
if he were trying to convince Scully of his latest theory instead of trying to
explain how they were going to recover her life.

"As I see it, we have two major problems. You may still be in danger, and I'm
not willing to take any risks with your safety.  You also seem to have lost
part of your memory.  Including all the warm fuzzy memories of your
devastatingly handsome partner." Mulder said, thinking that if humor didn't
get through to her, they were truly lost.

Scully found herself responding to his mood.  "And, you are going to help with
these problems, how?"

"I'm glad you asked.  Well, Walter Skinner, the man you met earlier?  He's our
boss.  He's heading up the investigation into your disappearance."

"While we do what?"

"While we spend some quality time at a lovely little hideaway not too far from
here trying to get your memories back while keeping you free from harm."
Mulder answered, dropping his gaze to the floor.   He broke eye contact to try
and give her space, to give her time to get used to the idea.  His Scully
usually needed to weigh all the pros and cons of his latest plan before she
agreed or disagreed.  He wasn't sure what this Scully would do.

Scully's quickly indrawn breath made the knot in Mulder's insides tighten
further.  He knew this was the bottom line.  He chanced a glance up at her and
found her staring at her own hands, gripped together so tightly the knuckles
looked like they were ready to burst through her skin. Her body seemed to be
possessed  by an involuntary trembling, indicating a return onset of shock.
She pressed her lips together, still staring down at her hands, as if to
prevent herself from screaming.

He couldn't put her through this.  If this was going to add to her distress,
they'd have to find another way. They'd look into conventional treatment, and
if necessary, he'd have half the FBI trailing around behind her as highly
trained bodyguards.  This was obviously a lousy idea.  He'd been crazy to
think that it would work.  He opened his mouth to tell her `never mind,' but
was interrupted by a quietly sighed word he had to strain to hear.

"Okay."

End Chapter Five
Halftime review? Send it to QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (6/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Once Scully decided to go with Mulder, they moved quickly.  Mulder gave her
time to get dressed - he handed her clothes that Maggie had selected earlier
and then left to dismiss the guards on the other side of the door.  He figured
the fewer people who knew they were leaving tonight, the better.

As they walked down the hallway of Trinity Hospital, Mulder was careful to
give Scully her space.  He could tell that she was still extremely wary of
him, but seemed to be trying hard not to show it.

They climbed into the Explorer and headed towards the freeway.  Scully
maintained her distance, pressing herself against the passenger side door, her
fingers resting just above the handle.  Despite her efforts to stay awake, her
strength ebbed quickly.  Her eyelids drooped, then closed, and her tense body
relaxed.  Within a few minutes, she was slumped against the door, sleeping
soundly.

It was killing Mulder that she didn't trust him, but he knew he had won a
major victory by convincing her to agree to come with him alone.  Especially
since she had no idea where they were going.  Not that she knew much - she
wasn't able to tell anyone where she lived, so he could tell her this was her
house, and she might well believe him.  Or not.

The location of their safe house was a pleasant surprise to Mulder.  Skinner
had made the choice to hide Mulder and Scully close, but not too close.  When
he had handed Mulder the slip of paper with the address on it, his response to
Mulder's raised eyebrows was a mild,  "I trust you know how to swim."

Mulder had chuckled, and looked at Skinner with new respect.  The AD never
failed to amaze Mulder with his perception.  What better place for Scully to
recover her memories, than a remote beach house?  Scully's love of the ocean
wasn't very well known, but it didn't surprise him that Skinner somehow just
knew .  Since it wasn't high season they would be fairly isolated, yet enough
people lived in Sandbridge, VA, that a couple on an off-season vacation
wouldn't be noticed.

<Hell, they'll probably think we're honeymooners,> Mulder thought wryly,
wishing he could make the joke out loud to his partner. <Best not to risk it.>

When the sun rose, they stopped at a roadside diner for breakfast.  Part of
Mulder knew he was stalling, but he was hungry and wanted to get some
fortification before they arrived.  Scully's tension seemed to increase as
they neared their destination.

<Wouldn't hurt to have a good breakfast and pretend nothing's wrong.>

They slipped into the booth and glanced at the menu.  A cheerful blonde
waitress whose nametag read 'Jeni' came over to the table to ask if they
wanted coffee.  Mulder took the liberty of ordering for both of them, "one
black, one with cream and no sugar."  He didn't notice Scully's relieved look
when he ordered.

When Jeni came back with their coffee, Mulder ordered what Scully would have
normally called the Heart Attack Special, and Scully quietly ordered eggs and
bacon.

"How do you like your eggs, ma'am?"

Scully had already turned away to look out of the window into the parking lot.
If he weren't an expert in all things Scully, Mulder would have thought she
just hadn't heard.  But he knew better. The hand resting on the table tensed
into a fist, and her eyes narrowed, as they did when she was trying to figure
out his latest theory.

<She's trying to remember.> Mulder thought with dismay.

Jeni began to repeat herself, assuming she just hadn't been heard.  "Ma'am?
How - "

"She'd like them scrambled please.  Actually, if it's not too much trouble,
could those be egg whites?" Mulder said, turning on the charm.

"Sure. Might cost extra, though."

"No problem."

Jeni went off to place their order, and Mulder sat patiently, waiting for
Scully to turn back to him.

"Thank you for knowing how I like my eggs," she said quietly, turning to look
at the table.

"Ah, Scully.  We've been in enough greasy spoons on the road that I've kind of
picked these things up along the way.  Though how you can stomach egg whites
is beyond me," Mulder said gently.

Mulder could have sworn he saw the hint of a smile at the corners of her
mouth.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
 

Their arrival at the beach was without fanfare.  Scully didn't speak during
the remainder of the trop, but Mulder noticed her reaction as they drove
through Virginia Beach and over the bridge to the quieter area of Sandbridge.
It was a look he'd rarely seen.  Normally, Scully was a master at cloaking her
emotions, but in this moment her fearful expression vanished and delight
filled her eyes.

Mulder pulled the Explorer into the driveway.   Like most of the houses on the
block, the house was on stilts to protect itself from the high tide and
traveling sand dunes.  They were literally right on the beach, and whoever had
designed the house took advantage of that fact. The east side of the house was
almost entirely made of glass, and the master bedroom, living room and dining
room faced the beach.  They each had sliding glass doors leading to the wrap-
around deck.  Except for the spare bedrooms, you could see the ocean from
every room in the house - even the kitchen.

After a cursory exploration, Scully started to walk back to the Explorer to
help Mulder unload.  He refused, instead ushering her into the master bedroom.
They'd had to flip a coin to get her to take the bedroom - she had wanted him
to have it.

"Scully, you are still weak from your ordeal.  We've had a long ride in the
middle of the night, and I think the worst thing you could do would be to
over-exert yourself.  There's plenty of time for you to do your fair share."

"But, I'm not helpless.  I can help.  I want to help.  I hate being considered
an invalid."

"I don't think you're an invalid, I just think you can't be too careful.
Please?"

While Mulder unloaded the Explorer, he reflected back on their last exchange.
He could almost pretend it was the old Mulder and Scully.  She had looked at
him with her hands on her hips and proclaimed she wasn't an invalid, and he
was tempted to grab her and hug her because she was back.  But, then, she had
acquiesced too quickly for Scully, and he was brought back to the present.

Banez had warned him that the first few days were going to be rough. If
Banez's theory was correct, Scully's memories would begin returning to her
once her body had caught up on it's rest.   Mulder couldn't tell her that he
wanted her to rest because every minute she rested brought him one minute
closer to having his partner back.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Scully drew the curtains, blocking her ocean view, but she left the sliding
door open so she could hear the waves.  She kicked off her Keds, and lay on
the bed, still fully dressed in jeans and sweatshirt.  Maybe she could get a
few hours of sleep before...

<Before what?  Before I magically get my memory back?> she thought bitterly.

She wasn't sure exactly how they were going to go about trying to recover her
memory, but she knew that *Mulder* must have some idea.  Before ushering her
off to bed, he'd been unloading boxes of what looked like textbooks.  She was
certain they held some kind of key to her treatment.

"Mulder," she mumbled distractedly.

It was hard for her to figure out just what it was about him that made her
trust him.  What few memories she had told her that he was somehow trying to
harm her. Those were so clear.  In most of those scenes, he looked crazy.  He
was out to get her.

Yet, none of that made sense.  Those memories were true, but there had to be
more she hadn't accessed yet.  Scully was trying to match the memories in her
head with the new memories of kind, sad, hazel eyes.

She wished she could remember *nice* experiences with him.  There must have
been some.  Already, she knew he had a sense of humor, and he obviously knew a
lot about her.  She was strangely drawn to him, but she reminded herself that
she had to keep her guard up.  This could just be one big trick.

She drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts of the man with the kind, sad
hazel eyes who knew how she liked her eggs.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The dream was disjointed - images superimposed upon each other that flashed so
fast, she was having a hard time keeping them straight.  She tried to force
her subconscious to slow down, because she had a feeling they were her
memories trying to come out.

A dead snake in the grass.

Playing hopscotch with a redhead.

Bright Lights.

Sitting in a boat in a lake.

Mulder smiling.

She is Me.

A woman's face disintegrating into green ooze.

"That is the only thing that matters."

"Your mother is Teena, your sister is Samantha."

"I saw my sister, and she was just a little girl."

Mulder crying.

Bright Lights.

"Mulder!!!"

The last was said out loud, as she sat straight up.  The sun had gone down,
and she was shrouded in darkness.  The wind had picked up, blowing the
curtains into the room.  It reminded her of something...

Mulder burst into the room and snapped on the light before running over to the
bed.

"Scully, are you okay?" he asked, grasping her shoulders gently.  She sensed
that his natural instinct was to fold her into his arms, but that he was
restraining himself.  He knelt on the bed beside her, long arms locked
straight at the elbows, fingers making soothing circles on her shoulders.  He
didn't say another word, trusting that she would speak when she was ready.

Scully shivered and allowed herself to lean into Mulder for warmth.  It was so
cold in the room.  His arms immediately relaxed and he quickly gathered her
closer.  She looked up at him, and said, "Mulder, I'm so sorry about
Samantha."

End Chapter Six
Here I am...QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (7/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Mulder thought his heart would stop.  He was certain he had stopped breathing.
<Did she just say what I think she just said?>

"Excuse me?" he asked quietly.

Scully pulled away and took a deep breath.  She rose and walked over to the
sliding door and yanked it shut.  It stopped the wind, but caused a desperate
silence in the room.  Scully stood with her back to Mulder, staring through
the sheer curtains into the darkness beyond.

Giving her as much space as he could, Mulder rose to stand behind her.
"Scully, we need to talk about your dream.  Have you remembered something?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and busily went to work straightening the
bed covers.  Her gaze darted all through the room, refusing to land anywhere
near him.  Mulder was willing to put up with her stalling until his curiosity
got the best of him and he spoke again.

"Your dream?"

Mulder knew that the longer he gave her to think, the more opaque the dream
would be.  He wanted to get her to open up while she could still "see"
whatever her dream had described. To the best of his knowledge, the name
Samantha had not been mentioned.

He walked over to where she stood and calmly took the pillow she had been
compulsively fluffing
from her hands and tossed it unerringly to the head of the bed.  She stood in

front of him, head bowed.

"I, uh, I could use something to drink." she whispered.

"Fine.  Let's go to the kitchen.  We can light a fire in the living room and
talk.  You in the mood for cold or hot?"

Mulder walked Scully into the living room and lit the fire while she settled
on the sofa. The sofa was overstuffed with a matching armchair.  The furniture
was arranged in an L-shape, with a coffee table between the sofa and the fire.
The armchair faced the ocean.  After getting the fire lit, Mulder decided that
they would have tea.  If she complained, he'd throw an ice cube in.

When he returned with the tea, he found her staring into the fire,
concentrating on the blazing paper and logs.  The ocean fought to be heard
over the crackle of the fire.  She looked up at his arrival and accepted a cup
of tea with a murmured "thanks," cradling it with her hands as if for warmth.
He'd also thrown some cookies onto a plate and he put them on the coffee
table.  He then sat in the armchair, being careful again of her personal
space.  Silently, he looked out into the darkness.  His position in the chair
allowed him to pretend he was staring out the window, when in reality, he was
looking at Scully's profile.

<Come on, Scully.  You gotta meet me halfway.>

Mulder was used to watching Scully's profile.  Late nights working in the
office, he would often look up at her area and see her profile illuminated
only by her computer screen.  Or, there were those times when they were
driving or flying somewhere and would spend hours talking to each other's
profile.  Ruefully, he realized he probably knew her profile better than he
knew her face.  Whether that was a statement to the fact that he hadn't spent
enough time looking at her straight on, or that they were always turning away
from each other, he didn't have time to psychoanalyze.  Now, he had to get her
to start talking.

"I'll start talking in a moment, Mulder.  You don't make it any easier by
staring at me."

<Caught.>

Scully sighed and looked over at Mulder, really *looked* at him for the first
time since they'd begun their little journey.  Mulder's heart did that little
flip-flop it always did whenever he was the subject of her intense scrutiny.

<Maybe this is why we're better at profiles.  This is dangerous.>

"Who is Samantha, Scully?"

Scully sighed and looked back at the fire.  "My dream was very disjointed, and
the images don't really make sense. I see you laughing - then I see you
crying.  I hear you talking.  You're talking about how nothing else matters
but finding your sister.  Then, I hear myself talking to you - telling you
that your sister is Samantha."

"My sister is named Samantha."

"But, why did I have to tell you that?  And, why are we holding guns on each
other when I tell you?" she asked, looking at him earnestly, some of the fear
leaving her eyes.

Mulder sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  "It had to do with one of
our most recent cases.  You had to convince me that you were Scully - I was
being led to believe you were someone else."

"And, I used your sister as a way to prove to you that I knew you."

"Yes."

"I remember that.  It's fuzzy, but I remember."

"Do you remember anything else about Samantha?" <or, me?> he wanted to add.

Scully sighed and set her cup down on the coffee table.  She pulled the afghan
off of the back of the sofa and wrapped herself in it. Despite the blazing
fire, there was still a bit of a chill in the room.  Mulder could tell that
she was cold, but that she also needed something to do with her hands.  She
meticulously arranged the brightly colored blanket around her slight form and
steeled herself.  Then, she began to speak.

"I remember that you have a sister named Samantha.  She's been missing for a
very long time.  Part of what you do is look for her.  You keep a picture of
her on your desk in your office.  It's a picture of her when she was just a
little girl."  Scully said all of this in a monotone, reciting it carefully
and concisely to make sure she got it right.  Then, her voice broke. "I feel -
I feel for you because you miss her very much.  She's all you care about.
Nothing else matters."

Mulder's eyes filled with tears at the last words. <Oh, Scully.  If you only
knew.> He reached over to capture her attention by touching her hand.  She
looked up at him, eyes shining with tears.  The fear that he had grown
accustomed to seeing in her eyes was replaced by pity.

"Scully, you help me." he said brokenly.  He meant to finish the thought by
telling her she helped him look for Samantha, but he couldn't say anything
more.  How could he console this woman who couldn't remember half of her life
but who wanted to shed tears for his loss? <Ah, Scully.  You humble me.>

Mulder's words seemed to give Scully some consolation.  She silently regarded
him and squeezed  his hand quickly before letting go.  "So, what I've
remembered, that's right?" she asked, moving to pick up her tea.

"For the most part.  Did this all come to you in the dream, or is your
conscious remembering things?" he asked, correctly sensing that she needed to
take an emotional step back.  He could tell that she was weakening in her
conviction that he was dangerous, but that she wasn't entirely comfortable
with the emotions they were both unearthing.

<Funny, she starts thinking that I'm not dangerous - just as I start realizing
just how dangerous she is.>

"Mmm, the dream was the trigger.  My dream was filled with strange images,
some of which may or may not have been true memories, and I can't see all of
them.  But, when I woke up - that part of my life was clear.  Samantha was
clear."

"Okay, that's a good step." Mulder said with conviction.  "Now, not to push
you, but are you ready to talk about some treatment before we turn in?"

"Turn in?  I just woke up.  You think I'm ready to go back to sleep?  Your
actions to the contrary, I'm NOT an invalid." Scully said haughtily, eyebrow
cocked in a heart-wrenchingly familiar manner.

Mulder chuckled, and reached for a cookie.  "Hold on, Scully.  I'm just trying
to follow Dr. Banez's orders. You want to pull an all-nighter talking about
the good old days, I'm game.  But, somehow I think that you'd rather try and
get a good night's sleep and start fresh in the morning."

As Mulder rambled on, Scully continued her appraisal of him.  She then
mimicked his actions and reached for her own cookie, before leaning back
against the sofa and tucking her feet underneath her.  The blanket that she
had shrouded herself in earlier pooled in her lap.

"Okay, Mulder, you win.  I'll go to bed - but first, I want to hear just what
you have in mind for my "treatment" in the morning.  Are you going to give me
a crash course in my life?  I know you know how I like my coffee...do you know
everything about me?" She said with far more flippancy than Mulder was used to
hearing from her.

<I could never know everything about you, Scully.>

Mulder was used to this part.  Selling his theories to the Skeptical Dr.
Scully.

"Okay, Scully.  Here we go.  Tomorrow morning, armed with strong cups of
coffee and warm clothes, we head out to the beach.  We take a long walk and
breathe the fresh air. Then, once your mind is cleared and open, we come back
here and try to unlock the memories that are there - "

"-we just have to know where to look." she said quietly, finishing his
sentence by quoting from one of the first things she had ever said to him.

Mulder looked at her and smiled.  Never one to miss a cue, he continued the
repartee by responding much more kindly than when he originally said it.
"That's why they put the *I* in FBI."

Scully smiled back.
 

End Chapter Seven
Seventh Inning Stretch Time! - QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (8/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Mulder awoke with the sunrise the next morning.  As he toweled himself off
after his quick shower, he detected the unmistakable smell of coffee.  He
dressed quickly and strode to the kitchen.  There he found a coffee pot full
(minus one cup) and a box of eleven donuts open on the counter.   He helped
himself to a cup of coffee and a donut and went in search of his partner.

Sliding open the door of the living room, he stepped out on the porch to find
Scully wrapped again in the afghan and staring out at the ocean.  The sun had
barely begun to rise over the waves, and the beach below them was deserted
except for a few shorebirds.

"Good Morning, " she said quietly, not turning to face him.

"Morning, Scully.  Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, actually I did.  No dreams.  Nothing.  I feel better than I've felt
since this whole mess began.  What an amazing sunrise, hmm? " she responded,
turning to look up at Mulder leaning against the deck's wooden railing.  He
was wearing black jeans and a forest green cotton sweater that made his eyes
more green than hazel.  The sweater was probably not enough to protect him
from the early-morning air, but he didn't seem to notice.

Mulder showed no interest in the panoramic ocean view - his focus was totally
on his partner sitting curled up in one of the Adirondack chairs.  He studied
her intensely, searching for signs that she was lying to him - hiding the
truth about how she felt because she was anxious to begin her "treatment."
She was wrapped in that blanket again, but he could see that she had changed
her clothes and had dressed in a turtleneck and sweater and faded blue jeans.
The look made her look younger than her severely tailored work wear.

"Feel up to an early morning walk?" he asked.

Scully turned to look back at the ocean.  "I'd love a short one.  I don't want
to tire myself too much.  But, I can't resist the prospect of touching the
water."

"Great, I'll get our jackets."

XOXOXOXOXOX

Whether it was the serenity of the ocean, the crisp fresh air,  or the beauty
of the early morning sun, it was a happy couple who returned from their early
morning sojourn.  Scully realized soon into the walk that her memories of the
ocean and its creatures were intact and she began regaling Mulder with stories
of dolphins and whales and shorebirds.  Her enthusiasm was catching, and
Mulder indulged her in a much longer walk than he thought they should have
undertaken.  But, they kept a leisurely pace, and he was happy she seemed to
have decided he wasn't the enemy.

As they walked into the house, Scully continued her discussion of ocean life.
"Mulder, the humpback whale is indigenous to the Pacific Ocean.  There's no
way you could have seen one this morning."

"But, Scully, I swear I saw it.  You were picking up that shell and you missed
it.  Its tail was <this big>" Mulder responded, gesturing with his arms as she
shrugged out of her jacket.

He watched her turn to him, an eyebrow raised skeptically, and he could tell
she was ready for battle.  Until she saw  the telltale amusement in his gaze
that told her he was pulling her leg.  She shook her head and wordlessly
turned toward the kitchen.

"Can I get the whale watcher something to drink?"

"Nah, I'm okay, " he said as he moved to start another fire in the fireplace.
In spite of the sunshine, they were still in the off-season, and there was
again a chill in the room.  Scully had seemed to take comfort from the fire
last night, and he wanted to make her as comfortable as possible before they
began.

Mulder had explained on their walk just how he wanted to approach her
regression.  He wanted to take it slowly, but he thought that if they got
closer to figuring out what had been *done* to her, that they could possibly
unlock the door to her other memories.  Scully had explained to him this
morning that she was slowly remembering things about her past - the deaths of
her father and her sister, her medical school training, her FBI training, but
that for the most part, her years with the Xfiles were still very blurry.

He could tell that she was relaxing around him, but that part of her still
didn't trust him.  That hurt.  More than he wanted to admit.  He wanted to
scream at her, "Scully, it's me" but he knew that wouldn't get them anywhere
but two steps back. Their walk on the beach had helped ease her nerves and he
actually had gotten her to laugh a few times.  He could live with that.  For
now.

She walked in and sat on the couch, holding a glass of water and one of the
shells she had collected on the beach.  It was a pearl pink scallop shell that
she'd picked up and shown him.  He'd told her to keep that as her "touchstone"
- that she would need something to return to if things got too tough while
under hypnosis.

"Ready?" He asked gently, settling  into the armchair.  He pushed up the
sleeves of his sweater and sighed heavily.  He forced himself to remain calm.
For her sake.

Scully nodded and they began.

XOXOXOXOXO

"Where are you?" Mulder asked .

Her eyes were closed and she sat still on the edge of the couch. One hand
rested palm-down on her knee, the other gently grasped her shell.  Mulder had
soothed her with his voice and gently urged her to go back to the last thing
she remembered.  At first, there was nothing.  Then, she quietly began to
speak.

"I'm in my apartment.  I've just finished cleaning.  The dust collects so
quickly when I'm out of town.  Sometimes all I do is dust books I buy and
never read or CDS I never get to hear.  This traveling sometimes takes it all
out of me.  I'm tired.  Maybe I'll treat myself to a bubble bath. Mmmm."

Suddenly she gasped and flinched.  "No! Who are you?  What are you doing?"

"What's happening?  Where are you?" Mulder asked urgently.

"Men in black kicked down my door.  I try to fight them - but they're stronger
than I am.  They knock me down - and kick me.  Hard.  I can't breathe - .
Then, no more.  I don't see or hear anything."  The words spilled out on a
rush, as if she were trying to hurry past this painful memory.  She bent
forward, protecting her stomach and ribs from the remembered blows.

"Shh...it's okay Scully.  Relax.  Just let the memories come." He wanted to
touch her knee to reassure her, but he was afraid her grip on the memory was
tenuous and any outside influence would disrupt her.

"I wake up, but I'm groggy.  I'm on a table - my wrists and ankles have straps
on them.  I can't get free.  Somehow there's something on my head - I can't
turn my head.  The light - it's blinding me.  I shut my eyes, but the light
makes stars on my eyelids. Someone's talking - I don't recognize the voice."
Scully leaned back, taking a deep breath.

"What are they saying?"

"She's awake.  Let's get started.  She needs to be awake for this to work."
Scully said deeply, imitating the man who spoke.

"I open my eyes to try and see the man speaking. Suddenly, I start to move.
I'm on some kind of moving table.  It tilts up and now I'm almost standing.
In front of me are huge television screens.  All of them are showing the same
thing.  Nothing.  Snow. I try to see if I'm still dressed, but I can't move.
I'm able to move my legs enough to feel the jeans.  I still can't see anyone.
But, wait.  There's someone standing behind me.  I feel him."

"What's he doing?"

"He puts this *thing* on my head.  It feels like a helmet."

"Describe it."

"It feels like a motorcycle helmet.  But, there's no visor.  I can still see
the tv screens.  Wait - the man walks around in front of me - but I don't
recognize him.  He fastens the chin strap - locks it onto my head.  Oh, God.
What are they doing to me?  There are two things poking me - behind my ears. I
shake my head and they *zap* me."

"Zap you?" Mulder blurted.  This was harder on him than he thought.  Scully
seemed to be reliving this without much duress.  She reported the events like
she remembered them, in a matter of fact monotone.  It was only when she said
the last that he realized how scared she must have been.  He felt helpless in
the face of these memories. <Why couldn't they have taken *me*?  Why *her*
again?>

"Yeah, zap.  It hurts.  I keep my head still.  That's what they tell me to do.
They tell me if I just relax and stay still it won't hurt.  So, I do.  And,
suddenly there's this *weird* feeling.  It doesn't hurt, really - it just
feels uncomfortable."

"Where?"

"In my head.  They're poking into my head.  Right beneath my ear on each side.
Like if you were sticking a pen lightly into your head.  Suddenly, I look up
and the television screens are on. It's my life.  They're showing me *my*
life."

Mulder dropped the pen he'd been using to take  notes and stared at Scully
slack-jawed. Who were these people and where did they come from?  The
technology that Scully was describing sounded more like something out of Star
Wars than anything they'd ever seen.  It actually reminded him of the time
he'd been captured at Ellens Air Force Base - and they'd put him out and taken
his memories.  But, they hadn't *shown* them to him.

<This must be the latest in alien technology. > he thought angrily.  <How
could they use her as a guinea pig?>

"Scully, you okay?  Do you want a break?" he asked gently. <I know I could use
one.>

"No - no.  I want to keep going.  I feel like I'm so close." she responded,
lightly caressing her shell with one hand.

"Well, if it gets too much - you know how to pull yourself out.  We can always
go back."

"Mmmhmmm" she responded, her eyes darting back and forth again as if watching
video screens.

"They start talking to me over my memories.  They ask me how much I know.
Know about what?  About the project.  About the merchandise. What?  I don't
know what they're talking about.  The screens in front of me start fast-
forwarding memories - I recognize things, but it's going too fast.  Why are
they doing this?  They're looking into my brain.  They're trying to see what I
know."

Scully stopped talking for a moment and sat in front of Mulder mute.  She
began again, speaking in a deep, disembodied voice.

"Anything she knows can be easily erased.  She must be taken out of the
equation.  Begin the reprogramming."

Mulder clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent the involuntary gasp from
squeaking out.  This was too difficult to hear. <Reprogramming?  They were
going to distort her mind?> He couldn't listen.  He didn't want to.  It was
only by sheer force of will that he was able to stay silent in the armchair.
He knew they had to go through this in order to have any chance of getting
back, but he wanted to protect her from having to live through this experience
again.

Scully's voice went back to normal as she continued speaking.  "Then the
television fills with memories of you holding a gun on me.  Different memories
from our past.  A chant begins in my head.  It's filling my head.  It's coming
from the  helmet.  `Don't trust him.  He will kill you.  He's not your friend.
You are only a part of his agenda. You mean nothing to him.  Nothing.  Nothing
else matters.'  Then I see you on the screens saying that.  You're looking at
me and saying "nothing else matters."  I'm confused.  Not Mulder.  I can trust
Mulder.  Stop it.  Stop it. But I can't make the chant stop.  It keeps going,
the same things over and over - and the images - they scare me.  You shooting
me.  Make it stop.  Nothing else matters. Make it stop."

Scully began rocking and shaking until Mulder could take it no more.  He had
to pull her out of this before she was permanently injured.

"Scully - enough.  Stop!  Touch your shell.  We're on the beach.  We're
walking on the beach.  We're talking about birds.  You're safe." Mulder
repeated the last words until Scully's rocking slowed, her breathing came back
to normal and she slowly opened her eyes.

"My God, Mulder.  How far will they go to separate us?"
 

End Chapter Eight
Poor Mulder!  Poor Scully!  Poor Lonely Writer! - QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (9/10
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"My God, Mulder.  How far will they go to separate us?"

Her words hung in the air for a moment while Mulder tried to gather his
thoughts.

"What do you mean, Scully?"  he asked, leaning forward.

"It's obvious, Mulder.  They watch us.  They have to know I love you - and
they tried to use that as a way to undermine the work.  Damn - it almost was
successful, too.  I'm so sorry."  She spoke in a familiar, matter-of-fact way,
seemingly trying to control her voice from breaking. Quietly, she set her
shell on the coffee table and rose to walk to the windows.  She stood, back to
him, slight against the enormity of the ocean view on the other side of the
glass.

It was a silly notion, but Mulder looked down at his stomach to ensure nothing
heavy had been dropped on it.  He felt like Wile E. Coyote from the Road
Runner cartoons.  The anvil had just been thrown over the cliff, and he was
tied to it in free fall.  What the hell did she just say? And, what was he
supposed to do about it?  His mind was in such a tailspin, he was unable to
string two words together, so he sat in the chair, mute.  If Scully had turned
around to look at him, she may have surmised from the blank look on his face
that he was now hypnotized.

"It's actually a work of genius, if you think about it.  How better to find
out how much we know than to *probe* one of us?  Then, once they ascertained
that my knowledge was useless to them, they decided to make me useless to you
and the Xfiles." Scully spat out bitterly. She stood with her palms flat
against the window pane, as if she were trapped behind the glass and needed to
get
outside.

"They tried to use *my* memories - *my* feelings to control some kind of
master plan.  And, that's not right.  Not fair.  Somehow they must have known
- they must have known that the worst thing they could do would be to turn me
against you.  To make me a hindrance, not a help."  Her anger seemed to grow
as her voice raised.

"Scu - - " Mulder had been down the self-blame road enough times to want to
spare her the same painful journey.  He also wasn't quite ready for more of
her confessions.  Scully was normally so controlled in what feelings she
shared, it would be tantalizing to hear what she had to say - but he couldn't
risk the repercussions if she realized what she was telling him was *news*.
Her words were uncensored because she must have assumed he already knew.

"Wait, let me finish." she interrupted, whirling to speak to him.  Silhouetted
against the bright sunlight, her blue eyes flashing, color high, she reminded
him of an avenging angel out for blood.  "I refuse to be a pawn to a game I
don't even know I'm playing.  That probe - it felt like someone was stealing
my life and I will not have that done to me.  They tried to do it when they
took me, then gave me cancer, they aren't going to do it with us. No."

Mulder rose and crossed to  her.  "Scully, they haven't won.  You're
remembering.  Their plan didn't work. You're coming back.  And *that's* all
that matters."   He purposely used the last words to disclaim the chant they'd
tried to implant in her brain.  His speech seemed to calm her anger, and she
allowed him to guide her back to the sofa.  Picking up her glass, he crossed
to the kitchen and poured ice water for both of them.  It was a blatant
stalling maneuver on his part, but he had to buy time somehow.

"But, Mulder - look what they put you through.  You thought I hated you - that
I was afraid of you. That must have killed you.  I'm so sorry." she murmured,
as he walked back into the living room and handed her the water.

She looked at him with a new look in her eyes.  A look he'd never seen before.
One he definitely could spend serious time getting to know.  But not now.  Not
yet.

"What exactly do you remember?" he asked.  He tried to communicate to her with
his gaze that her apology had been heard and accepted.  She sighed as if the
message had been received, and squared her shoulders.

"I remember everything I just told you.  I remember fighting the chant -
fighting the memories they kept playing over and over on the screens.  They
continued for hours.  I tried.  I tried so hard to keep the bad memories out.
But I was so tired, and then I don't remember anything.  Until that night at
the warehouse."

"And, how about now?  How are you feeling now?" Mulder asked gently.  He again
sat in the chair and leaned forward to lightly touch her knee.  It thrilled
him that she seemed to derive comfort from his touch, not fear.

"A little embarrassed.  Angry.  Frustrated.  Helpless.  So many of my memories
are still hazy.  I know there's still more out there.  I still can't
remember."

"That's to be expected. Dr. Banez said that you might not remember everything
all at once.  She thought if you could unlock the events that led to your
memory loss, that it might make the path easier."

Scully made an unintelligible sound that Mulder could have sworn was a snort
or a hmpf if he could recall Scully ever making such a noise before.  "What?"
he asked.

She looked down at the shell she held loosely in her hands again.  "I just
wish..."

"Yes?" He could have sworn he saw a twinge of pink lurking around Scully's
cheeks.  She wouldn't meet his gaze.

Mulder was in a quandary.  He wanted time to celebrate the confession Scully
had unwittingly made - he wanted to give her time to hear his own - but he
knew that he shouldn't take advantage of what she had said.  Besides, what had
she said?  She said she loved him, yes.  But that was to be expected, right?
He loved her too.  They were partners.  They were friends.  That was all she
meant, right?  Of course.  This was Scully. *Scully*.  And she was back.
Almost.  Getting there.  He was right to let it lie.

He was so lost in his musings, he almost missed the completion of her thought.
"I just wish I could remember the good times." she quietly murmured, still
looking down at her shell.

Mulder leaned forward off the armchair and closed the distance between them.
He reached out and pushed the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of her
face back behind her ear and turned her face to meet him head on. <Enough
profiles.> He gently kissed her forehead, and smiled down at her.

"You will, Scully.  You will."

 
End Chapter Nine
Only one more to go..but if you want to write, I'll be here - QofMush@aol.com
 
 
 

Forget Me Not (10/10)
by QofMush

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Fox Mulder Personal Diary

Scully and I returned to D.C. last night.  All told, we spent close to a week
in Sandbridge, although Scully's "treatment" was completed that first day. The
rest of the week was spent allowing Scully to recuperate, relax and slowly
find her way back.  Every day she had a breakthrough and could remember more
about our lives in the past five years.  By the end of the week, we had
devised a game where we tried to stump one another with past case files.  I am
still the champ, because I have that "blasted" memory as Scully likes to call
it - and I have no life.

Unfortunately, I had to live through Queequeg's death again.  She's still
attached to that *thing.* I will never understand it. At least a few names
never came up.  I wasn't about to mention her "Philadelphia Experiment," and
if she never remembers what she thinks she saw in Comity, it will be one bonus
we can live with.

I've been in constant contact with Skinner - he tells me the entire FBI has
exhausted their resources and they have no leads as to who took Scully.  I'm
not surprised.  Once I told him of her memories of that weekend, we both
decided that this was one more item on the list of things we need to ask our
chain-smoking friend or his colleagues the next time we see them.

I rage against the people who took her again because they are aware of what
she means to me. She is my Achilles Heel, and I don't like that I am so
transparent. If I were a stronger man I would make her leave the Xfiles, if
only to protect her.  But, I know my Scully.  No one makes her do anything she
doesn't want to do.  She wouldn't go, and I'm too selfish to even ask.  I need
her.  My time as her "enemy" taught me just how much.   Without her constant
presence and faith I am a true lost soul - tilting at windmills until their
rotors cut me to bits.

I told Scully once that my faith was in the Truth. I spout that like some
cheap Sunday morning minister on cable television.  What I've recently
realized is that my faith *is* in the Truth.  But the Truth is Scully.

Since her breakthrough and unwitting confession, Scully and I have lapsed back
into our comfortable friendship.  She laughs more often, and has shared more
with me in the past week than the previous five years.  Her willingness to
share was infectious, and I found myself telling her stories of my life she'd
never heard before.  Perhaps it was the ocean air.

I see now that Scully's confession was merely a stating of the obvious.
Blurted "I love you's" aren't our style.  In her mind, it was a logical
statement of fact.  It hasn't been repeated, and I haven't addressed it.  I
think it was a profession of friendship and partnership, and nothing more.

Unfortunately.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Personal Diary of Dana Scully

Returning home last night was disconcerting.  It was one thing to remember the
horror of that "lost weekend."  It was another to return to the scene of the
crime.  Mulder, being Mulder, offered to stay on the couch, but I kicked him
out.  I told him that I was sick of him and had to face my demons alone.  He
gave me the patented puppy dog look, but seemed to understand.  He's good at
that sometimes.  Once he patrolled  the apartment, inspected the new locks
he'd insisted the Gunmen install while we were gone, and made sure the phone
by my bed worked with his home number programmed as SpeedDial #1, he left.  I
think if he could get ahold of one of those baby monitors and make it work
from my apartment to his, he would.  I made him promise he would go home, and
not spend the night lurking outside in his car.

When Mulder was gone, the silence in the apartment was deafening. I put some
music on - the same CDS  Mom had packed for our trip.  I got used to hearing
them, and they reminded me of Mulder.  Especially that "Brick" song.  He
complained he couldn't get it out of his head, but he sang it constantly.

When I reflect on what was done to me, I can't help but feel violated all over
again.  That's what it was - pure and simple.  Violation.  Who are these
people who play God with Mulder and myself and try to destroy everything we've
built together?  I will never tell Mulder how violated I feel - it will only
feed the flames of vengeance for him.  He tries not to show it, but I know he
believes he is in some way responsible for what happened to me.  There are
days when I know he wishes he could ask me to leave, but he knows I won't go.
I don't think he can bring himself to ask, either.

Mulder tells me that there are no leads to the people who took me.  His friend
at the DEA told him that no one from the Columbian cartel remembers even
seeing me until the drug bust, and Mulder has no leads as to who called him
that night to get him to go down there.  He swears it sounded like "X," his
informant who was killed a few years ago.  Just another unsolved mystery in
our case files.

I was happy to hear that Skinner never did anything about my "condition"
officially.  As far as the FBI knows, Mulder and I were investigating a case
in PA and came up with no answers.  I'm glad.  My reputation means a lot to
me.  Wouldn't do to have my name in the Xfiles for the third time.

My memories have slowly returned.  Some things are still very fuzzy, and
Mulder tells me I may never have all of my memories back.  He confessed that
he still doesn't have memories of that time at Ellens.  Most of my memories of
the last five years have returned, though.  Both good and bad.  Poor Mulder
had to make all those sympathy noises about Queequeg again.  They were just as
transparent as they were the first time, but I give him credit for trying.

This "vacation" with Mulder helped me to open up a little bit around him.  I
think that by losing all of my trust in him, then getting it back, I was able
to see just how much we hide from each other.  We trust each other on a daily
basis with our lives, but before this week, I didn't trust him enough to tell
him my most embarrassing moment in med school.

The one thing I'd like to believe I've brought out of this experience is
clarity.  Life is a journey and one can never know how long or short the trip
may be. Or, as Mulder would say, how strange.  My journey is with Mulder.  I
know this now.  Together we are an immovable force.  One to be reckoned with.
It's only when we allow our bond to be weakened that we are both destroyed.

I'm convinced Mulder thinks I blurted my hidden feelings for him in an
unwitting confession.  And, perhaps he's right.  Would I have ever told him
how I feel out of the blue like that?  No.  When I told him, I was lost in my
remembering, and believed this to be a fact he already knew.  It was only as
my other memories came back, that I realize how my confession must have
shocked him. And, he responded in typical Mulder fashion. He convinced himself
that he was doing the right thing by protecting me from what he perceived was
a blunder.  By doing so, he protects himself too.  I know this.  This man
cannot fathom that anyone could love him.  If I care for him at all, it must
be in a purely platonic way.  According to Mulder.

Did I mean it that way when I said it?  Perhaps. I don't know.  However, I do
know that what I feel for Mulder is far from platonic.  I gained this clarity
when I regained my memories.  My past visions of Mulder and how I felt about
him, combined with the easy relationship we shared at the beach house prove to
me that I love this man.  I'm fairly sure he loves me.  I don't want to wait
for the next crisis in either of our lives to act on it.

I'm coming for you, Mulder.  Better be ready.
 

End of Story

If you're still here, I thank you kindly.
Care to let me know you made it through?  I worry about you.
 QofMush@aol.com

As always, thanks to the Screamers for their continued support...and to
ONEOFUS.