Theft of a Life.

Written for the December, 1999, Church of X Challenge
-Winner of the Silver Grail (2nd place)

Summary - First Mulder disappeared, then he was found. But
while he was gone, something was taken from him.

Disclaimer: I don't delude myself by thinking I have any claim on
the characters in this story (other than those no-one recognizes). I
write for fun, not profit. Imitation is the highest form of flattery.
No copyright infringement is intended.

Rating - PG. Category - Angst. No spoilers.

Archive - Church of X only please. I'll distribute anywhere else.

Thank you - to Deb Longley. She encouraged me to write this and
has helped with beta reading.

Feedback - medusafox@bigpond.com

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

Theft of a Life
by Medusa

Saturday December 4, 1999.
Greenbelt Park, Maryland, VA
6.00am

It was just past dawn, only three weeks until Christmas and the
first snow falls were threatening. The weather was icy cold and it
had been raining for most of the night. Tim Grady pulled his four
wheel drive up to gate 4 of Greenbelt Park. His job, first thing
each morning, was to unlock the park gates and take a drive
along the narrow roadway, note and report any areas of the
parkland that may need maintenance. Today was no different
from any other day, except that today someone had cut the chain
that held the gate closed.

Grady cursed softly to himself as he noted it in his log. It was
unusual but not unheard of for vandals to break into the park at
night, for them to occasionally dump something in the wooded
areas. Nice and secluded, not much chance of detection. He'd
found plenty of stolen cars or goods too hot to sell off in the fifteen
years he'd been doing this job.

He drove along the asphalt slowly, scanning for anything unusual.
He'd traveled for around ten minutes when he saw tire tracks
leading off the road and across the muddy grass to a stand of
trees some fifty feet to the left. The tracks went over to the edge
of the trees then looped back and disappeared back onto the
hardtop. He parked the truck and followed the tracks on foot, not
wanting to disturb the muddy ground any more than necessary.

The tracks led up to the woods and it seemed that the vehicle had
backed into the trees before leaving, suggesting that something
had indeed been dumped here. Grady's niggling sixth sense told
him that he was about to find something interesting. He silently
cursed his Irish Grandma Rosie and her telling him as a young lad
that their family had the "eye" and could sense things.

He reached the edge of the trees and walked in about six feet.
Pulling a branch aside, he drew a breath. Sure enough, there was
something there all right, a body. White Male, laying face down,
wearing only jeans, looking decidedly dead. He reached out a
tentative hand. The body was so cold that he was sure the poor
fellow was dead. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.

Grady was giving a detailed description to the police of where he
was located and staring at the body in morbid fascination when he
stopped mid sentence. <Mary, Mother of God!> Did the body just
twitch?

"...Sir? Sir? Are you still there?" the disembodied voice on the
other end of the phone called to him.

"What? Yes. I'm ....... Just hang on a sec, will you?" He
squatted down next to the body, cell phone still held to his left ear,
and touched the neck of the man on the ground. The skin was icy
cold to the touch and he was sure he'd imagined the twitch, but as
he pressed his fingers into the flesh in search of the carotid artery,
he felt a pulse. Faint, but there. "Fuck!" He breathed into the
phone. "This guy's still breathing. Get an ambulance here, now!"

There was muffled talking at the other end of the line for a
moment while Grady listened, and then he was being addressed
again, "Okay, Mr. Grady. We have an EMT unit on route to you
now. ETA ten to fifteen minutes. Do what you can to keep him
warm, but don't move him. And try not to disturb the crime scene.
The detectives and squad car should be with you in less than ten
minutes. Got that?"

Grady nodded, then said aloud, "Got it. I've got a tarp in the
truck. I'll go get it."

"Great. And don't hang up. Keep this line open until the squad
gets there. Okay?"

"Sure." He put the phone on the ground beside the body and ran
back to the truck to retrieve the tarpaulin. He also found a travel
rug his wife had left in the rear of the cab. He ran back to the
body and carefully covered it in the blanket and tarp. In the
distance he could hear the sirens approaching.

Greenbelt Park
6.30am

The paramedics were working to stabilize the man on the ground,
someone took photographs before they moved him. An evidence
team was taking a plaster mold of the tire tracks. Everyone
worked with well-oiled efficiency. Grady had given his account of
how he came across the scene to Detective Markowitz, and now
stood and just watched. He overheard Markowitz talking with one
of the other detectives.

"Any idea on this guy's ID?" the second detective asked.

"Nope. Doesn't seem to be anything here other than the body.
We'll run his prints and face through the database, see if anything
turns up." Markowitz turned to watch as the EMT's loaded the
gurney into the waiting ambulance. "Hope the poor bastard
makes it."

Grady found himself nodding in agreement. The guy was in bad
shape, another hour out here in the cold and rain, well....... He
shivered. Poor bastard, indeed.

Leland Memorial Hospital
8.00am

Markowitz was due off shift. But he hadn't wanted to clock off
until he'd gathered the John Doe's picture and fingerprints and
talked to the doctor to see if there was any chance of the guy
recovering enough to give a statement in the foreseeable future.
He'd called his wife and told her he was pulling a double shift, the
prints and photo had been dispatched to Missing Persons twenty
minutes ago. He was sitting in one of the uncomfortable plastic
chairs in the waiting room, waiting for some doctor, any doctor, to
have a moment free to speak to him. Finally a pretty blond
woman in a white coat came towards him.

"Detective Markowitz? I'm Doctor Feeney. I'm the staff
neurologist called in on this case." They shook hands.

"What can you tell me, doc?"

"Not what you want to hear. He's comatose, hypothermic and
barely alive. There's surprisingly little evidence of assault.
Certainly no sexual assault. There's bruising around his wrists,
ankles and across the chest suggesting he's been in some sort of
restraints recently. He's got puncture wounds in the arms, but the
initial toxicology comes up clean. Nothing to indicate head
trauma, so I've no idea, at this stage, why he's in a coma. I'd say
he's been out like that for several hours at least. We've sent him
up to ICU."

"Any chance he'll wake up soon?"

"Again, no. We're going to run a CT scan, PET, EEG, the works
as soon as he's stable, but until we know what's caused the coma,
we can't even begin to guess at when he'll come out of it. Right
now our priority is just keeping him alive."

"Thanks, doc. Call me if there's any change, huh?" Markowitz
turned to go.

"Detective? Let me know if you come up with an ID. With those
marks on him and the puncture wounds, it's possible he's been in
a hospital recently. Maybe St. Elizabeth's? It'd help if we could
get a history - medical or psychiatric."

"Sure. I'll check back with you later." Great. He was more than
likely pulling a double shift to ID an escaped fruit from the nut
farm. Nothing more to do except the 'donkey work' - phone calls
to the State Psychiatric hospitals, private rest homes and general
hospitals. A great way to spend the day. He sincerely hoped
Missing Persons had a jacket on the guy, it'd make life a whole lot
easier.

Markowitz had just made it back to his car when his cell phone
rang.

"Markowitz."

"Hey Danny? It's Sam White in Missing Persons."

"Yeah, Sam. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. It's what I can do for you. Your John Doe from this
morning? I got an ID."

"Fuck, that was quick. Good work." The identikit information
could have only just arrived at their destination.

"No work involved. FBI's had an APB out on this guy all week.
He's one of their Agents. Disappeared last weekend sometime.
His partner's on the way to the hospital now. You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I'll wait. What's this guy's name?"

"Mulder. Fox Mulder. His partner's name is Special Agent Dana
Scully. She should be with you soon."

With any luck, Markowitz wouldn't have to work a full double now.
There was a God.

Leland Memorial Hospital
9.05am

The red-headed whirlwind that swept into the ER took Markowitz
by surprise. She strode purposefully up to the reception desk,
identified herself and demanded to know where Fox Mulder, the
'John Doe' brought in that morning, was. The detective heard the
receptionist tell the petite agent that she'd page Doctor Feeney, if
Agent Scully wouldn't mind taking a seat for a moment.
Markowitz watched Scully pace back and forth in front of the desk.
He recognized the pent up energy as desperation to find out how
her partner was. He'd faced a similar situation himself nearly five
years ago when his own partner, Joe De Luca, was shot in the line
of duty. He and Joe were close, so close that he'd been best man
at Joe's wedding six months before the shooting. The shooting
that left Maria De Luca a widow. He quickly shook off the
memory.

"Agent Scully?" He stepped up behind her.

She whirled to face him and he saw the distinct disappointment in
her eyes when she realized he was not the doctor.

"Agent Scully, I'm Detective Danny Markowitz, Maryland PD."

Scully, ever the professional agent, offered her hand. "Detective
Markowitz. I appreciate your waiting here to talk to me."

Markowitz indicated the row of chairs in the waiting area and
moved to sit. Scully followed reluctantly and the ER receptionist
threw a grateful look in Markowitz's direction. Scully perched
nervously on the edge of the chair, fighting to maintain control.

"What can you tell me, detective?"

"Well. Not a whole lot at this point. A park keeper for Greenbelt
Park came across him this morning and called us. The crime
scene boys have taken all kinds of samples for analysis, but it's
too early yet for any results."

"I don't want to tread on your toes, detective, but since Agent
Mulder is a Federal Agent, I'd appreciate it if you could have those
samples sent to our lab at the Hoover Building. I've been
investigating Agent Mulder's disappearance for the past week, and
any information you can give me would be gratefully received."

Markowitz didn't feel that his 'territory' was being encroached on.
He realized that Scully had every intention of running the
investigation and that his, or anyone else's, police department
would willingly bow to this situation. After all, it was federal
business when one of their own was involved. Any precinct in the
whole god-damned country would feel the same protectiveness to
one of their own.

"No problem, Agent Scully. Anything we turn up, I'll let you know.
Any help you need from us, just call."

They were exchanging business cards as Doctor Feeney
approached. Markowitz said his good-byes and left, looking
forward to the rest of the day off. As soon as he'd been back to
the station to fill in his report.

Scully's attention was immediately diverted when she saw the
woman in the lab coat nearing. She virtually pounced on the poor
doctor, barely waiting until the introductions were over before
asking how Mulder was. Doctor Feeney repeated all she had
earlier told Markowitz.

"I want to see him."

"Sure. I'm heading up to ICU now. I'll walk up with you."

As they rode the elevator up to the 6th floor, Feeney asked Scully
for some background information. "Has Mr. Mulder experienced
any major head trauma in recent months? Any history of
neurological problems?"

Scully shifted uncomfortably. Could his condition be linked to his
unknown virus?

"He has quite a history, actually. I'll arrange for his medical file to
be faxed across. Most recently, he suffered from an.... unknown...
virus that caused some very strange brain activity. It's all rather
complicated, I just hope this isn't a recurrence."

"You feel it's possible? I'll need those records as soon as
possible. Also, I need to know who his next of kin is."

"Actually, I'm Mulder's legal medical proxy. I can give you
anything you need." That earned her a 'look' from the doctor. "It's
not what you're thinking. It's just easier than contacting his
mother whenever he needs emergency treatment."

"You make it sound like it's a frequent occurrence."

"Far too frequent for my liking. I was wondering if you'd let me
have some of his blood samples, I'd like to run them through the
FBI labs, see if anything comes up."

"Sure. As long as you share the results with me."

The elevator arrived at its destination and the two women walked
down the hall into the ICU. Cathy took a moment to introduce the
nursing staff, explaining that it was important to have a good
rapport between family and staff. Then she led the way to
Mulder's cubicle.

Scully stopped at the end of the bed and stared. Tears pricked
the backs of her eyes but she firmly held them in check. Mulder
look so pale, so like... death. He was on a respirator, Dr. Feeney
had explained that he had simply given up breathing just after
arriving in the ER, he was covered by a warming blanket and was
receiving warmed IV fluids to slowly bring his body temperature
back to normal. Tubes and monitor leads snaked in under the
blanket seemingly from all directions.

"Oh, Mulder," she breathed, coming up to the side of the bed and
reaching in to find his hand. She closed her fingers around his icy
cold ones, careful not to disturb the IV cannula.

Dr. Feeney checked his chart, and the readouts on the ECG and
other monitors. Scully looked up at her. "How's he doing?"

"Okay for now. Seems to be holding his own. Body temp has
come up a half degree since he was admitted. He's got a steady
rhythm, and the ICU resident has reduced the respirator from full
support to assisted breathing, so it looks like he's started breathing
better on his own now. We'll keep checking his neuro responses
every hour. Maybe when he's warmed up he'll start to regain
consciousness."

"Oh God, I hope so," Scully breathed.

Feeney tried to reassure Scully. "We're gonna do everything we
can for him. But right now I have other patients to see. I'll be
back in about half an hour."

"Thank you." Scully smiled as the neurologist left. Looking back
at her partner's still form, she whispered, "Mulder, what have you
gone and done this time?"

Scully went over to the nurses station to use the phone while
keeping a constant eye on Mulder. She called Assistant Director
Skinner first. He told her he would arrange someone to pick up
the blood samples and make sure the lab put a priority on
anything that was connected with Mulder's case. He would also
see that Mrs. Mulder was called. Scully thanked him and hung
up.

Then she placed a second call to The Lone Gunmen. Frohike
was beside himself with joy when she told them Mulder was back,
but that quickly changed to concern when she described his
condition. They promised to help as much as humanly (or
otherwise) possible and would run their own tests on Mulder's
bloodwork through unofficial channels.

Scully thanked the nurses for the use of the phone and returned to
Mulder's bedside. She sat and took his hand in hers again, gently
pressing her cheek to his fingers. She stared at his slack face,
wanting nothing more than to see the spark in those hazel eyes.
Tears threatened to spill again and she firmly admonished herself.
He *was* going to be okay. Then her thoughts trailed back to the
previous week. She'd invited Mulder to spend Thanksgiving with
her family as usual, and as usual he'd declined. He'd said he had
a few things to do and would see her on Monday. They'd parted
and that was the last time she'd seen him.

Leland Memorial Hospital
December 4
10.30am

Scully came out of her reverie when Cathy Feeney came back
into the cubicle. She couldn't believe she'd zoned out for nearly
an hour, but she wasn't terribly surprised. She'd been operating
on auto-pilot all week, hardly sleeping, chasing every and any
possible clue as to where Mulder had gone since that Wednesday
afternoon.

"Hey there." Cathy greeted Scully. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"No." Scully replied sleepily. "I wasn't really asleep. Guess I just
kinda zoned out."

"Don't apologize. You must be tired. You said he'd been missing
for a week." Scully nodded. "You been looking for him all that
time?"

"Yeah. They say nothing disappears without a trace, but that
doesn't hold true for the Mulder family. Any change?" Scully
glanced at the monitors for signs of improvement in Mulder's
status.

"A little. Breathing's still improving but not enough to take him off
the respirator yet and his temp's steadily rising."

Scully could feel that his hand was warmer, although still cool.
And the color in his cheeks had improved. He was still pale but
he no longer looked like a corpse.

"That's good. You know he's always been a quick healer. Usually
bitches about wanting to be released from the hospital days
before he really should be. Always says he feels fine. Drives the
nurses mad so they're happy to see him go." Another look at
Mulder's inert body told her that he wouldn't be doing that for a
while yet.

Dr. Feeney placed the chart on the end of the bed. "Well, let's
see if his neuro responses are any better." She pulled a penlight
from her pocket and prying open first the right eye then the left,
shone it on to his pupils. She frowned. Next she leaned down
close to Mulder's ear and spoke loudly, directly to him. "Fox!
Open your eyes. Open your eyes, Fox!" No response. Not even
a flicker. Then she pinched his earlobe. That earned a healthy
flinch.

Scully watched, willing Mulder to respond to each test, bitterly
disappointed when he didn't. She watched Dr. Feeney make
notes on the chart before meeting her eyes.

"Okay, pupil reaction is virtually non-existent and as you saw, no
auditory response. However, reaction to pain has improved. That
might be due to the reduction of his hypothermic state, the nerve
endings are less responsive in the cold as you know. Now that
he's stable I'm going to get him down to the CT lab." She spoke
directly to Mulder as if he could hear her. "Time to find out what
is inside that head of yours, Fox."

"He prefers to be called Mulder." Scully said automatically.

"Does he? Don't know why. Fox is a beautiful name. Well, I'm
gonna call him 'Fox' until he wakes up and tells me not to." Again
she spoke directly to the comatose figure. "Got that, *Fox*?"
With that Dr. Cathy Feeney went over to the nurses station to
organize the required scans.

Scully found herself liking this woman very much.

An orderly turned up half an hour later to push Mulder's bed,
complete with portable respirator, IV's and other paraphernalia
attached, down to the CT lab.

Scully stayed within sight of Mulder on the journey to the lab,
throughout the procedures of the EEG, CT and PET scans, and
back up to the ICU. Dr. Feeney had come into the observation
chamber to take a look at the scans and direct which areas she
wanted close attention paid to, then disappeared with the
computer disk telling Scully she'd be up to talk to her about the
results shortly.

Back up in ICU, Angie, one of the ICU nurses, re-connected the
heart monitor and respirator, then checked the IV lines, foley
catheter and NG tube in case they'd been dislodged during the
scans. Then she asked Scully if she'd like to help move Mulder
on to his side, explaining that they'd shift his position every six
hours or so to help prevent lung problems. This was finished just
as Dr. Feeney re-appeared.

"Well, there's good news and bad news," she announced to
Scully. "The good news is that there doesn't appear to be any
brain injury. I can see where he had that surgery you mentioned,
but there doesn't appear to be any physical reason why he won't
just wake up."

"So what's the bad news?" Scully asked sardonically.

"That there isn't any physical reason for him not to wake up. It's
just going to be a matter of wait and see. We'll keep an eye on
him, but I'm sure he'll come 'round when he's ready." Feeney
gave Scully a reassuring smile as she left.

It was late afternoon when AD Skinner arrived. He brought no
further news on the investigation into Mulder's disappearance, but
he did have the lab results on the blood samples Scully had sent.
There were traces of barbiturates and psychotropic drugs in
Mulder's system. He also told Scully that he'd called Mulder's
mother and told her he'd been found, Mrs. Mulder would be here
as soon as possible.

Skinner stared down at Mulder's still body. Only the chest moved
up and down and the respirator gave a little puff every time his
body drew a breath. Scully caught the frown on her boss's face.

"It's only giving him a little help. He's basically breathing on his
own, the respirator just gives a little extra push to make sure he's
taking in enough oxygen. They'll take him off it soon. Physically
he's picking up really well, he just needs to rest."

Skinner wasn't sure if Scully was trying to sound convincing to him
or to herself. He put a comforting hand on Scully's shoulder,
"He's come out of worse situations before. I'm sure he'll be okay
this time too."

Leland Memorial Hospital
Tuesday December 21
6.00pm

Scully entered Mulder's room and bid him a cheery hello. She
checked his chart and proceeded to tell him about her day. It was
a ritual that she had instigated as soon as she'd had to go back to
work, when it became clear that Mulder wasn't going to wake up
as soon as they'd all hoped.

She caressed his cheek as she talked, hoping that he would show
some response. It had been two and a half weeks since he'd been
found and still he slept on, like Sleeping Beauty. Scully had
finished the run down of the day's events and was reading articles
that she thought would interest him from some trashy supermarket
tabloid, when she felt like she was being watched. She glanced
up and almost fell out of the chair in surprise.

Mulder's eyes were open. Not just open, but seemed to be
focused on watching her. She stood and pressed the call button
to summon the nurse. Clare was on duty tonight and appeared
instantly.

"Something wrong?" she asked worriedly. Scully *never* used the
call button.

"He's awake! Call Doctor Feeney."

Clare took a moment to verify that Mulder had indeed woken up,
although he still hadn't shown any response other than to follow
Scully's movements with his eyes.

Scully reached over and stroked his spiky hair back. She smiled,
"Hey. About time you woke up sleepy head."

Mulder's throat worked, as if he were trying to speak. Scully
realized that his throat must be terribly dry. "Hold on," she
whispered and was about to go find some ice chips when Clare
came back in with a cup and a spoon.

"Carol's on her way. She okayed ice if he wants it."

Scully took the cup. "You thirsty?" she asked Mulder. Again the
throat moved with no sound. She spooned a small amount of ice
into his mouth and at first it just sat there, with him making no
attempt to even hold it in his mouth. Then slowly his tongue
moved and the melting ice trickled over it and out the corner of
his mouth. Scully watched as Mulder's eyes blinked slowly closed
and he tried to swallow. She put a little more ice up to his lips and
this time he was a little more responsive and held it in. His eyes
were open again and he resumed staring at her. It was unnerving
to Scully that he was awake but unresponsive. And she was sure
that she read mistrust, even fear, in his eyes.

Doctor Feeney arrived a few minutes later. "Well, Fox, it's good
to see those eyes open on their own." Mulder's gaze flicked over
to Carol. She continued, "I'm Doctor Feeney. Feel up to letting
me take a look at you?" She pulled the penlight out of her pocket,
"I'm just going to shine this into your eyes for a second, okay?"

She flicked the little beam across Mulder's pupils and was
satisfied with the reaction, even though Mulder tried to avoid the
light. "Does it hurt your eyes? The light?" Mulder gave the tiniest
nod in answer and Scully breathed a silent prayer of thanks that
he could hear and understand them, even if he hadn't yet spoken.

Carol continued her examination. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"
A tiny frown answered as if he wasn't quite sure what she meant.
"Does your head hurt?" The merest shake 'no'. "Okay, your
throat?" A single 'yes' nod. Carol continued with various body
parts and seemed satisfied that he was comprehending well
enough. Time to move onto other things. Scully watched with
trepidation.

"Feel like talking to me?" Carol's tone was quiet, soothing, just
the right timbre to gain trust. They still didn't know exactly what
Mulder had gone through. Mulder's shoulder gave a slight shrug.
"You don't know if you want to talk to me?"

Mulder's eyes flicked quickly around the room, as if looking for
someone. "Mo..." he cleared his throat painfully and Scully
quickly supplied a little more ice. He began again in barely a
whisper, "My mom doesn't like me talking to strangers."

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

Scully froze and the cup of ice nearly slipped from her suddenly
nerveless fingers. What had Mulder just said? She looked to see
if there was that familiar glint in his eye that meant that Mulder
was yanking her chain, but there was nothing in his beautiful hazel
eyes except confusion and fear.

Carol recovered far quicker than Scully did. "It's okay to talk to
me, I'm your doctor."

Scully saw Mulder's body tense up even more. "Am I in the
hospital?" He asked in a small voice.

Carol nodded, "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head 'no'. "Is my mom or
dad here? I want to see them." There was an edge of panic in
Mulder's tone, even though it was obvious that he was trying to be
brave. Scully was still in shocked silence. Mulder's father was
dead, he knew that - or did he? A knot of fear in her stomach was
growing rapidly with each word that was exchanged between
doctor and patient.

Carol spoke soothingly to Mulder, "Your mom's been here, she'll
be back in a little while, though. You've been sick and I need to
check you over now you're awake, okay? Can you answer some
questions for me?"

Mulder's eyes flicked over to the closed door and then back to
Carol. "Sure." He gave a little one-shouldered shrug.

"Let's start with your name and address, and what year this is."

Scully couldn't miss the adolescent eye roll that Mulder did and
she just knew she didn't want to hear his answer.

"My name is Fox William Mulder, but you already know that right?
I live at 2790 Vine Street, Chilmark, Massachusetts. It's 1973.
When's my mom coming?"

It was too much for Scully and she fled the room. Behind her she
heard Carol Feeney still asking Mulder questions as the door
swung shut. <Oh God, what had those monsters done to
Mulder?>

A hand on her shoulder made Scully jump.

"Agent Scully, I'm sorry I startled you," AD Skinner's deep baritone
snapped her attention back. "I got a call that Mulder was awake.
That's good news."

"Is it?" Scully snapped back.

The joy in Skinner's eyes fled and was replaced with concern. "Is
something wrong? They didn't give me any details over the
phone."

Scully sighed and collapsed back against the wall, "I'm sorry, I...
Mulder.... He's...." She drew a shuddering breath and lost the
battle not to let tears fall. "He's not himself. Oh God, I can't...."

Doctor Feeney appeared behind Skinner and saved Scully the
need to try to explain what had just happened in Mulder's room.
"Let's go down to the waiting room and I'll try to explain what I
think is going on here." She gestured towards the room at the end
of the corridor. "It's all right, Clare will sit with him until we get
back."

***********

"And you think he's regressed back to childhood?" Skinner was
angry. Not at the doctor or Scully, certainly not with Mulder -
although if he found out that Mulder had willingly put himself into
danger as he had with that quack Goldstein, he'd personally
throttle the Agent. He was angry at the unknown forces who had
done this to his friend.

"I don't yet know if it's regression or something else. I'll need to
run some more tests to find out." Carol's rational voice did little to
calm Skinner.

Scully, who had been largely, and uncharacteristically, quiet up
until now, suddenly spoke, "What do you think has caused this?"

"I honestly couldn't say. You know what his bloodwork was like
when he was brought in, he had enough drugs in his system to
open his own pharmacy. Perhaps the trauma of what might have
been done to him while he was missing, might have something to
do with it. Or..."

Scully finished for the doctor, "Or whoever he was with did this to
him deliberately."

"We don't know that, Agent Scully," Skinner growled.

"No, we don't, Sir! I was merely speculating. But given past
events, I'd say it was a distinct probability, wouldn't you? If you'll
excuse me, I'd like to go back to Mulder's room."

Skinner and Dr. Feeney followed Scully back down towards
Mulder's room. As they approached, they could hear screaming.
More specifically, Mulder was screaming.

Mulder was backed up, as far as he could get, against the top of
the bed. He had the sheet pulled up to his chest and was hugging
his knees tightly. He was pale and shaking. Teena Mulder stood
motionless, white as a sheet and with her mouth open, as her son
continued to scream at her.

"NoNoNo!!!! You're NOT my mother!! Where's my mom? What
have you done with her?"

Cathy quickly moved to calm Mulder, but he was having none of
it. He struggled against the doctor's firm hold and even in his still
weak condition, he put up one hell of a fight. Skinner stepped
forward to help hold him down. Cathy sent the nurse to fetch a
dose of 5mg Valium IM; she'd wanted to avoid using drugs if at all
possible since they still didn't know the cause of his condition, but
she was afraid he'd hurt himself if he didn't calm down soon.

Mulder continued to fight like a hellcat, screaming and crying, "I
want my mother. What have you done with her. LET ME GO!!!"
Skinner held his wrists and he tried to bite Skinner's hand as it
came within range. The doctor pushed down across his chest,
and he squirmed and kicked against Scully where she held his
feet.

Finally, the nurse returned with the hypodermic and deftly stabbed
it into Mulder's thigh. Mulder screamed even more as the drug
was pushed into his body, but his struggling slowly subsided. The
dose wasn't enough to knock him out, just enough to calm him
down. When it was evident that all the fight had gone out of him,
they let Mulder go. He rolled onto his side and sobbed into the
pillow.

It was too much for Teena Mulder to watch and she fled the room.
Scully quickly followed her to try to explain what they knew of
Mulder's condition.

"I'm sorry that no-one had a chance to tell you what to expect
before you saw him, Mrs. Mulder," she began.

Teena's face was white with anger. "What did those monsters do
to him? He didn't recognize me. He didn't know who I was."

"Somehow...." Scully didn't know how to explain something she
couldn't understand herself, "Somehow, his memory has been
wiped. Not all of it, just the last twenty-six years." Her own
impotency and rage was barely contained.

Teena stared in disbelief.

"He is effectively a 12 year old trapped inside a 38 year old body.
The doctor is going to run some tests to see if we can determine
how to treat him, if we can reverse whatever has been done to
him."

"Oh dear God. Who could have done such a cruel thing to him?"
At Scully's pointed look, Mrs. Mulder drew in a sharp breath, "No!
No, not even They would do something like this."

"Then who? It doesn't make any sense. I don't know where to
start looking for answers," Scully said sadly.

Walter Skinner came out of Mulder's room. "I think you'd better
go in, Agent."

Inside, Mulder was huddled in the bed, inconsolably crying. Dr.
Feeney was talking quietly to the nurse, "What exactly
happened?"

The nurse tried to explain. "I'm not entirely sure. When you and
Agent Scully left the room, he started to become a little agitated.
He wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, then his mom
arrived and all hell broke loose."

Scully went over to the bed and put her hand on Mulder's
quivering shoulder. "Mulder?"

He looked up at her in confusion, the tears flowing freely. She
sighed and tried again, talking softly, "Fox? I know you're feeling
frightened right now. We're doing everything we can to help you.
You can trust me." She fought down her own tears, it hurt so
much to see her friend in this much distress.

"Who... who are you?" He hitched in between words, "You were
here before, are you a d.. doctor too?"

"I'm your friend, Fox. My name is Dana. Do you remember me?"

Mulder shook his head. "I don.. don't understand what's
happening. That old lady said.. said she was my mom. My
mom's not old." He looked down along his own body, "And... and
I'm not me." His sobs were dissipating as Scully continued to rub
his back and shoulders comfortingly.

"I know, sweetie." It was hard for Scully to talk to Mulder in an
adult to child context, but she reminded herself that he essentially
*was* a child right now and need reassurance. He needed
someone to trust, someone who would tell him the truth. She had
to be that person. "Mul... Fox, I'm going to tell you the truth. I
want you to trust me, so I won't lie to you, okay?"

He nodded and sniffed. Scully caught the look that Carol gave
her, a slight smile and a nod to continue.

"This might be a little hard for you to understand, but you're very
smart. It's going to be scary, but what I'm going to tell you is the
truth." She drew in a deep breath, pulled up a chair and sat so
she was able to look him straight in the eye. Mulder gave her a
beseeching look, so she continued, "Something has happened to
you. We don't know what, but we're going to find out. You have
lost a big part of your memory. Right now, in your own mind,
you're nearly twelve years old," she swallowed nervously, "but
you're really a lot older than that. You're all grown up. Someone
has made you forget a lot of years."

Mulder's look turned thoughtful as he tried to process what he had
just been told, difficult though it was with the sedative in his
system. "How many years?" He sounded so much like the "old"
Mulder that Scully's heart twisted.

"Around twenty-six years."

His eyes went wide and he glanced nervously around the room,
"So that really was my mom?"

Scully nodded.

"Is she still here?"

"Yeah, she's just outside. Do you want her to come back in?"

A shy nod answered, and Carol went to the door. Teena Mulder
came back into the room. Scully gave her a reassuring smile and
stepped out of the way so that mother and son could be close.

"Fox, honey?" Teena took one of his hands in hers and rubbed it
reassuringly.

"Mom? Dana told me.... told me..."

"Shhh, it's all right. I know." She cupped his face with her free
hand and wiped his tears away with her thumb.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he whispered, eyes downcast.

"You're forgiven. This is hard for you to accept, I know. But we
are going to get you well. And you are a very bright and brave
young man. I'm going to be right here to help you, and so is
Dana. You just have to believe that everything will be okay."

From where she watched mother and son together, Scully tried to
believe that everything would be all right. They were faced with
the daunting task of finding a way to reverse what had been done
to Mulder. If that couldn't be done, he was going to have to start
re-learning the last twenty-six years. And how in God's name
were they going to tell him about his sister and father. Scully's
heart broke at the thought of the pain he was going to have to go
through all over again, as well as having to totally rebuild his life.

Would she ever again know the same Fox Mulder that he had
been just a few short weeks ago?

Finis

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

Challenge #1: Either Mulder or Scully experiences near-total
amnesia. He or she is still articulate, can still speak and function
in the real world, but has lost all sense of self and history. There is
no memory of previous life and action, does not recognize anyone
around them. IMPORTANT: The person *cannot* gain the
memory back within the story--ever. This is not your standard
amnesia fic, where it "will all come back to him soon." His or her
life has been *erased* and he or she must start over. How did it
happen, what will he/she do now, how does the other react? The
story must be more in-depth than 'True love survives, they are
meant for each other, they're lovers within the month.' Not that
such a theme can't be present, certainly, but it has to be more
difficult than that. There has to be some angst, there has to be
some anger and frustration, and it must mean something if they
do come back together.

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