Title: Agony, Confusion and Discord Author: Theresa Lambert Rating: PG-13 Category/Keywords: S, A, missing scene - Biogenesis Summary: Missing scenes, namely. Especially all those scenes that we didn't see as Mulder started losing it. Also incorporates scenes that were part of the original script, but not seen in the episode. Feedback: Oh yeah. I love it more than candy. :-D terisafwm@earthlink.net Archive: Gossamer - yes Anywhere else - yes, as long as my name and email address is kept on it. Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any of these characters. If I did, I'd be rich, and living up it somewhere really nice. But I don't, so I'm not. Author's notes: While this is my first posted piece of X-Files fanfic, this isn't my first time writing fan fiction. Also, thanks as always to Ariana. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx *icantbelievejaniceisohmanifidontpassthistestimnotwherearethosefuckingbiolog ynotesthefirstknownancestoryofmanwasnowaycanibefailingmantomyouareonestupidi justwishiwas* Mulder writhed in agony as the noise and high pitched whine in his head drowned out his thoughts. The disjointed and rancorous sounds were blurring his vision and burrowing into his skull like a large steel spike. Noise. Nothing but horrible, hollow, mind filling noise. Distantly he could hear footsteps. He couldn't tell if they were coming towards or away from him. Nor did he care. *HOWCOULDJOHNBESOSTUPIDWHATAMIGOINGTOHAVEFORDINNERHELLIFGODIFHESAYSONEMOREJO KEABOUTHOWMANYBLONDESITTAKESICANTBELIEVEIASKEDHERMANISHEUGLYPROFESSORDYSONIS SUCHANTHEHUMANGENMONISMADEUPOFFOURMANISHOULDNTHAVEHADTHATLASTBURRITOHOMOSAPI ENSAPIENISNOTRELATEDTO* Mulder almost bit through his tongue as the noise exploded within his head. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and squeezed. The footsteps came to a stop next to him and through the riot of noise and pain, pried open his eyes and stared blearily up at a face that he knew was familiar. But he just couldn't get his mind to work enough to identify it, instead choosing to squeeze his eyes shut against the voices and discord. Mulder groaned, twisting in agony, as the noise became unbearable, his mystery observer walking away. Biting his lip against the pain, he pulled out his cell phone and hit the first speed dial button. He listened to it ring through the cacophony and confusion in his head, heard it ring once, twice, before announcing, "The cellular customer you are trying to reach-" He let the phone slip through his fingers with a whimper. *idyouhearaboutthemurderinthebiolabicantbelievedrsandozkillediheardthatthefb iwasbroughtinhomosapienneandertalensiswerethefirsthominidtodevelopculturethe ythefourbasepairsinthehumangenomearemadeupdidyoucatchthenameofthedudeinthesu ityeahfox* "Fox?" Mulder felt awareness slowly seeping its way back to him. How long had he been out of it? "Fox, you need to wake up." Blinking open his eyes, Mulder looked up at Diana Fowley and winced. He had a terrible headache, but at least the voices and noise had stopped. Looking up at Diana, he frowned. What was she doing here? Pushing against his temples in a pitiful attempt to ease the pain, he realized he really didn't care what she was doing there. She could drive him home, and that was all that really mattered to him at that moment. Helping him into a sitting position, Fowley asked, "What happened?" Mulder shook his head. "Nothin'." Rubbing his face, he sighed and started to get to his feet, only to sway backwards, his sense of balance shot all to hell. "Whoa, I've got you," Fowley soothed as she grabbed his arms and steadied him. Swallowing thickly, he mumbled, "I need to go home." "Perhaps I should take you to a doctor?" "No," he answered, looking her in the eye, shaking his head. "No doctor. Just, take me home please." Fowley stared into his face for a moment, then nodded. "Come on." Holding onto his arm, she led him out of the university stairwell and to her car. He gladly let her, drained from the "spell" he'd suffered through on the stairs; he kept his eyes closed as they walked, only opening them once they finally reached the parking lot. He waited patiently as she opened the passenger door and slipped inside, leaning back in the seat and resting his aching head on the headrest. "Where's Scully, Fox?" He shook his head a little, keeping his eyes shut, not feeling up to talking with her, or anyone, right now. Time slipped, he'd simply lost track of it during their ride, and suddenly they were at his apartment complex. Rubbing his eyes, he staggered out of the car and headed inside. He could hear Diana behind him, but couldn't bring himself to care whether she was following him or not. Tossing his keys on his coffee table, he tugged off his over shirt, kicked off his shoes and headed into his bedroom. He figured Diana would close the door. The sound of it clicking shut as he stripped off his jeans and slid into bed assured him of his assumption. He was burrowing under the covers as Diana entered the room. He had just gotten comfortable; the horrible ache in his head slowly beginning to subside when she asked, "What happened at the university, Fox?" God, he was tired, just?drained. And, after everything that had been happening to him, he didn't need her here asking questions. Keeping his eyes closed, he cleared his throat and coughed, "Nothing, Diana. Listen, I'm not feeling well and am gonna try to sleep for a while. Lock the door when you leave, alright?" There was a moment of silence, before her answering, "Alright." He dozed for a while. Or, at least he through he did, because, the next thing he knew, Diana was calling him, "Fox?" Rolling over, he saw her holding his phone in her hand. The short, tiring conversation with Scully did nothing to improve his headache or ease the confusion in his head. The translation of the rubbing was, amazingly enough, a passage from the Bible. But, as usual, Scully refused to accept that it was alien, or that it pointed to the fact that there was something far greater than just simple evolution involved with the human species. Handing back the phone, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. At the moment, he was too exhausted to care. He'd deal with it after he got some sleep and dissonance in his mind went away. For a time, he did sleep, his mind blank, no dreams flittering across his psyche. But then it started again, the noise and voices and that God awful high pitched whine. He gasped, pushing his hands against his temples. Oh, Christ, make it stop! "Fox, what's wrong?" He whimpered as he opened his eyes, noticing how hazy everything had become. How it always got when these "spells" came. God, what was happening to him? "Look at me, Fox," Fowley demanded. He scrunched his eyes closed instead. *damnitheisshowingsigns* "Fox, what's wrong? Are you in pain?" Peeking up at her, he frowned. *iwonderifitsasprogressedasgibson* Mulder winced as he sat up slowly, never taking his eyes off Fowley. "I think you need to leave, Diana." Now it was her turn to frown. "You're not well, Fox. You need someone here with you." *especiallyifimtofigureouthowcomeyouvesuddenlybecometelepathichowinthehelldi dyourabilitygetturnedon* He swallowed against the tightness in his throat; he could feel himself beginning to shake. "I want you to leave, Diana. Get out." "Fox-" "I said get out." "I can't do that." *shithecanhearme* "Damn right I can hear you," he shouted, getting out of bed. "Now get the hell out of my apartment!" "Fox, you're sick." *spenderisgoingtolovethis* He started towards her slowly, anger weaving its way into the confusion in his head. "Get out, Fowley, before I send you back to your owner in a body bag. I'm sure you know about what happened to the last person sent to spy on me. I doubt you want to lose your face too." He was about to close the gap between them when the noise swirling about in his head increased momentarily, Mulder leaving him bent over and holding his head. When he was finally able to stand back up, Fowley was digging around in her purse. "What are you looking for, Diana, Cancerman's number? Funny, I'd thought you'd have it memorized by now. You must have had a lot of practice over the years, huh?" "Fox-" "Shut up!" he screamed, and then groaned at the pain, cradling his head. Through gritted teeth he gasped, "You bitch. How long? From the beginning?" "You don't know what you're talking about." Lifting his head, he reached out and knocked away her purse, its contents skittering across the floor. But not before she'd been able to grab what she was after. A stun gun. Mulder laughed bitterly, "Why, Diana? I -trusted- you." "I know you did, Fox. But you really should have listened to that friend of yours. Trust no one, remember?" Shaking his head, Mulder suddenly rushed her, managing to knock the stun gun out of her hand before pushing her up against the wall. "What do you want from me? You and your smoking bastard friend!" "Let go of me, Fox!" "Not until you tell me what you're after!" he yelled, before having to drop her with a groan, the pain and noise becoming too much. He was on his knees, pushing against his temples when he felt the first jolt of electricity burst through him. A harsh, inhuman scream was ripped from him as he dropped to the floor, and was immediately hit again. He felt his head bounce hard against solid wood of his floor before consciousness disserted him. "Jesus, look at that brain activity. Have you ever seen anything like that before?" Forcing his eyes open, Mulder stared up at a plain white ceiling dotted with florescent light panels. A very familiar type of ceiling. One he'd gotten used to seeing over the years after countless hospital stays. Shit. Licking his dry lips, glad of the brief respite from the mental noise and confusion plaguing him, Mulder tried to sit up, only to find straps across his chest and legs. "What the fuck," he mumbled, looking around and instantly spotted Diana standing a few feet away, watching him. Instantly, he felt angry, enraged. While he understood being furious at his ex-partner, it didn't explain the agitation he felt. It was like something was traipsing along his nerve endings, tormenting him. "What the hell is going on!" "Mr. Mulder, you're going to have to lay back and relax. Everything's going to be okay. Just stay calm." Mulder focused his eyes on the doctor standing over him. "No," he started with a shake of his head, "you need to release these bindings and let me up!" he ended in a shouted, jerking against the straps holding him to the bed, only to scream in agony as the noise and discord hit his mind in one searing wave of pain. *godihatetheviolentoneswhydoallthepyschosihavetodealwithhavetobeviolentthisi sthesecondthisweekwell30mgofbutabarbitalshouldcalmhimdown* He watched through squinted eyes as the doctor motion to someone else and he yelled amid the confusion and voices in his head, "I'm not crazy! Diana, please, don't let them do this." *spenderbetterberightaboutthisidontknowifdrugginghimisgoingtohelpbutitcanthu rtnotgiventhecurrentbehaviorhesexhibitinggibsonwasneverthisagitatedihopespen derknowswhathesdoingbyhavingmegivehimthatstuff* "Of course he wasn't agitated, you bitch! You weren't stabbing him in the back! You weren't drugging him with something either!" "Easy, Mr. Mulder, just calm down, everything will be better in a minute," the doctor cooed, pushing him over on his side to get access to his hip, as the other figure handed him the syringe. "No! Damn it, no! Don't do this! Stop!" His scream echoed off the walls as he felt the needle being pushed down into the muscle of his hip and the burn as the barbiturate entered his system. The doctor rubbed the area gently before lying him back down, but that didn't stop his struggling. He could feel the drug beginning to cloud his mind, trying to numb it, but, oh God, the noise and confusion and pain was so strong, so powerful. The drug wasn't working. Whatever Diana had given to him earlier while he was unconscious was counteracting it somehow. Tears were beginning to stream down his face, pooling along his ears as he screamed in agony. "Scully!" *mygodwhatthehelliswrongwithhimwhyisntthesedativeworkingheshouldbeoutofitbyn owjesusshutthehellupyouregivingmeaheadacheidontthinkthisiswhatspenderhadinmi ndwhenhetoldmetolockmulderupsomewherequietforawhilegodonlyknowswhattheoldbas tardhasplannedskinnersaidscullywasonherwaybackfromwheresheddisappearedtostra ngethathewouldntknowwherehispartnerhadgonethoughwhenioriginallyaskedhewaspro bablystilltoooutofittoanswermethisisntworkingweneedtogethimintoisolationhell enduphurtinghimselfifhekeepsthisupifigivehimanymoreitllkillhimwhileitsamorep ermanentwayofdealingwithhisproblemitsnotoneiwanttotry* The next couple of hours for Mulder were a blur. A horrible, confusing, painful blur. Or, at least he thought it was a couple of hours. Time had stopped having much of a meaning to him when he woke up. He recalled being moved into "isolation". Yeah, a small room with four padded walls. Not to mention an oh so obvious video camera crammed up in a corner to watch him. He vaguely remembered screaming. He wasn't sure if it was him, though he figured it was since who else would be screaming for Scully? He was exhausted and his head hurt. On more than one occasion he'd looked down into his hands to find tuffs of hair trapped between his curled fingers. But that was nothing compared to the noise in his head. The voices and that, that hideous whine were back, alternating between rushing through his mind, to simply shredding their way through it. He really was beginning to fear for his sanity. Occasionally he'd come across minds of people he knew. No one came to see him. None of the doctors, or any nurses. Not Scully either. Skinner and Fowley could stay away, though he'd felt them off and on, hovering somewhere nearby. A couple of times, he thought he'd felt C.G.B. Spender and that ratbastard Krycek. Those two assholes could stay well away, and since they hadn't darkened his little room with their presence, all he could do was assume they were keeping their distance. Wouldn't do for him to read their minds and find out what the hell they were planning now, would it? He felt and heard himself giggling. He really was starting to get tired. His back and forth pacing wasn't easing his confused mind any either. *poorbastardialwaysknewmulderwasonedgeandthankgodscullysbeenwithhimthesepast sixyearsbutseeinghimintherelikethatjusttearsatmedamnkrycek* Mulder made another unsteady circuit, hands buried in his hair, eyes squeezed shut. He didn't need, or want, to listen to Skinner's pitying thoughts about him. *thisisgoing-* He spun around and stormed towards the video camera, screaming. He knew Skinner was there, and Fowley, and- Oh God, oh thank you, Scully. *ohnoohgodmulderwhatshappenedtoyou* He felt like crying, like collapsing to his knees and sobbing like a baby, but he continued to pace. He couldn't stop himself. He could sort of sense Scully's thoughts. The doctor had told her he was violent, but she disagreed with him. She was at odds with Skinner and Fowley as well, Diana telling her he'd been calling for her all night. Well, that was true. She didn't trust them. That's right, don't trust them. Either of them. Lying bastards. *whatcouldtheypossiblewanttotalktomeaboutinthehall* "Scully," he cried, gazing up at the camera as his fingers hiding his mouth, praying that she'd hear him in the viewing room. Please, hear me, Scully. I need you, don't leave me here like this. I'm not crazy. God, please just get me out of here. *damnthemgodhowcouldhedothattothemaftereverythingthathadhappeneddamnit* Mulder's sense of Scully faded slightly, she wasn't as near as she had been. His pacing became more frantic. No, Scully, don't leave me, please! *bastardidiotdoctoriknowmulderwouldneverhurtmedamnrulesimsorrymulderiwishico uldseeyoubeforeileavecomfortyousomehowbuttheywontletmeseeyounotwithyouacting asyouarerightnowyouretoodangerousiknowyouarentbuttheyjustwontallowitiwillget yououtoftheremulderiswearthattoyouillfindtherestofthoseartifactsillfindwhats tormentingyouandiwillgetyououtoftherejustholdonformepartnerjustholdon* No, no, Scully, don't go! Don't leave me here! He wasn't sure if he actually screamed out those words, everything was becoming even more blurry, his breathing hitching in his throat as more tears came. God, he was so tired. He brushed up against the wall, and felt himself sliding down, his exhausted legs and aching feet unable to carry him anymore. Whatever Diana had given him must be wearing off, he'd been wired for so long. Instinctively, he knew if he stopped moving, they'd come in, really dope him up this time and strap him down somewhere. That had been the only good thing about whatever his ex-partner had given him. But he just couldn't move anymore. His head fell forward, tears trailing slowly down his cheeks as one more softly whispered word drifted off his chapped lips, "Scully." And then everything, the noise, confusion and pain, including his sense of self, disappeared, gladly, into a cool vortex of darkness. The end. (This portion is being silent in protest) Terisa "The future is here, and all bets are off." -Fox Mulder Come and visit my webpage, if you dare: http://home.earthlink.net/~terisafwm/ Title: Agony, Confusion and Discord Author: Theresa Lambert Rating: PG-13 Category/Keywords: S, A, missing scene - Biogenesis Summary: Missing scenes, namely. Especially all those scenes that we didn't see as Mulder started losing it. Also incorporates scenes that were part of the original script, but not seen in the episode. Feedback: Oh yeah. I love it more than candy. :-D terisafwm@earthlink.net Archive: Gossamer - yes Anywhere else - yes, as long as my name and email address is kept on it. Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any of these characters. If I did, I'd be rich, and living up it somewhere really nice. But I don't, so I'm not. Author's notes: While this is my first posted piece of X-Files fanfic, this isn't my first time writing fan fiction. Also, thanks as always to Ariana. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx *icantbelievejaniceisohmanifidontpassthistestimnotwherearethosefuckingbiolog ynotesthefirstknownancestoryofmanwasnowaycanibefailingmantomyouareonestupidi justwishiwas* Mulder writhed in agony as the noise and high pitched whine in his head drowned out his thoughts. The disjointed and rancorous sounds were blurring his vision and burrowing into his skull like a large steel spike. Noise. Nothing but horrible, hollow, mind filling noise. Distantly he could hear footsteps. He couldn't tell if they were coming towards or away from him. Nor did he care. *HOWCOULDJOHNBESOSTUPIDWHATAMIGOINGTOHAVEFORDINNERHELLIFGODIFHESAYSONEMOREJO KEABOUTHOWMANYBLONDESITTAKESICANTBELIEVEIASKEDHERMANISHEUGLYPROFESSORDYSONIS SUCHANTHEHUMANGENMONISMADEUPOFFOURMANISHOULDNTHAVEHADTHATLASTBURRITOHOMOSAPI ENSAPIENISNOTRELATEDTO* Mulder almost bit through his tongue as the noise exploded within his head. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples and squeezed. The footsteps came to a stop next to him and through the riot of noise and pain, pried open his eyes and stared blearily up at a face that he knew was familiar. But he just couldn't get his mind to work enough to identify it, instead choosing to squeeze his eyes shut against the voices and discord. Mulder groaned, twisting in agony, as the noise became unbearable, his mystery observer walking away. Biting his lip against the pain, he pulled out his cell phone and hit the first speed dial button. He listened to it ring through the cacophony and confusion in his head, heard it ring once, twice, before announcing, "The cellular customer you are trying to reach-" He let the phone slip through his fingers with a whimper. *idyouhearaboutthemurderinthebiolabicantbelievedrsandozkillediheardthatthefb iwasbroughtinhomosapienneandertalensiswerethefirsthominidtodevelopculturethe ythefourbasepairsinthehumangenomearemadeupdidyoucatchthenameofthedudeinthesu ityeahfox* "Fox?" Mulder felt awareness slowly seeping its way back to him. How long had he been out of it? "Fox, you need to wake up." Blinking open his eyes, Mulder looked up at Diana Fowley and winced. He had a terrible headache, but at least the voices and noise had stopped. Looking up at Diana, he frowned. What was she doing here? Pushing against his temples in a pitiful attempt to ease the pain, he realized he really didn't care what she was doing there. She could drive him home, and that was all that really mattered to him at that moment. Helping him into a sitting position, Fowley asked, "What happened?" Mulder shook his head. "Nothin'." Rubbing his face, he sighed and started to get to his feet, only to sway backwards, his sense of balance shot all to hell. "Whoa, I've got you," Fowley soothed as she grabbed his arms and steadied him. Swallowing thickly, he mumbled, "I need to go home." "Perhaps I should take you to a doctor?" "No," he answered, looking her in the eye, shaking his head. "No doctor. Just, take me home please." Fowley stared into his face for a moment, then nodded. "Come on." Holding onto his arm, she led him out of the university stairwell and to her car. He gladly let her, drained from the "spell" he'd suffered through on the stairs; he kept his eyes closed as they walked, only opening them once they finally reached the parking lot. He waited patiently as she opened the passenger door and slipped inside, leaning back in the seat and resting his aching head on the headrest. "Where's Scully, Fox?" He shook his head a little, keeping his eyes shut, not feeling up to talking with her, or anyone, right now. Time slipped, he'd simply lost track of it during their ride, and suddenly they were at his apartment complex. Rubbing his eyes, he staggered out of the car and headed inside. He could hear Diana behind him, but couldn't bring himself to care whether she was following him or not. Tossing his keys on his coffee table, he tugged off his over shirt, kicked off his shoes and headed into his bedroom. He figured Diana would close the door. The sound of it clicking shut as he stripped off his jeans and slid into bed assured him of his assumption. He was burrowing under the covers as Diana entered the room. He had just gotten comfortable; the horrible ache in his head slowly beginning to subside when she asked, "What happened at the university, Fox?" God, he was tired, just?drained. And, after everything that had been happening to him, he didn't need her here asking questions. Keeping his eyes closed, he cleared his throat and coughed, "Nothing, Diana. Listen, I'm not feeling well and am gonna try to sleep for a while. Lock the door when you leave, alright?" There was a moment of silence, before her answering, "Alright." He dozed for a while. Or, at least he through he did, because, the next thing he knew, Diana was calling him, "Fox?" Rolling over, he saw her holding his phone in her hand. The short, tiring conversation with Scully did nothing to improve his headache or ease the confusion in his head. The translation of the rubbing was, amazingly enough, a passage from the Bible. But, as usual, Scully refused to accept that it was alien, or that it pointed to the fact that there was something far greater than just simple evolution involved with the human species. Handing back the phone, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. At the moment, he was too exhausted to care. He'd deal with it after he got some sleep and dissonance in his mind went away. For a time, he did sleep, his mind blank, no dreams flittering across his psyche. But then it started again, the noise and voices and that God awful high pitched whine. He gasped, pushing his hands against his temples. Oh, Christ, make it stop! "Fox, what's wrong?" He whimpered as he opened his eyes, noticing how hazy everything had become. How it always got when these "spells" came. God, what was happening to him? "Look at me, Fox," Fowley demanded. He scrunched his eyes closed instead. *damnitheisshowingsigns* "Fox, what's wrong? Are you in pain?" Peeking up at her, he frowned. *iwonderifitsasprogressedasgibson* Mulder winced as he sat up slowly, never taking his eyes off Fowley. "I think you need to leave, Diana." Now it was her turn to frown. "You're not well, Fox. You need someone here with you." *especiallyifimtofigureouthowcomeyouvesuddenlybecometelepathichowinthehelldi dyourabilitygetturnedon* He swallowed against the tightness in his throat; he could feel himself beginning to shake. "I want you to leave, Diana. Get out." "Fox-" "I said get out." "I can't do that." *shithecanhearme* "Damn right I can hear you," he shouted, getting out of bed. "Now get the hell out of my apartment!" "Fox, you're sick." *spenderisgoingtolovethis* He started towards her slowly, anger weaving its way into the confusion in his head. "Get out, Fowley, before I send you back to your owner in a body bag. I'm sure you know about what happened to the last person sent to spy on me. I doubt you want to lose your face too." He was about to close the gap between them when the noise swirling about in his head increased momentarily, Mulder leaving him bent over and holding his head. When he was finally able to stand back up, Fowley was digging around in her purse. "What are you looking for, Diana, Cancerman's number? Funny, I'd thought you'd have it memorized by now. You must have had a lot of practice over the years, huh?" "Fox-" "Shut up!" he screamed, and then groaned at the pain, cradling his head. Through gritted teeth he gasped, "You bitch. How long? From the beginning?" "You don't know what you're talking about." Lifting his head, he reached out and knocked away her purse, its contents skittering across the floor. But not before she'd been able to grab what she was after. A stun gun. Mulder laughed bitterly, "Why, Diana? I -trusted- you." "I know you did, Fox. But you really should have listened to that friend of yours. Trust no one, remember?" Shaking his head, Mulder suddenly rushed her, managing to knock the stun gun out of her hand before pushing her up against the wall. "What do you want from me? You and your smoking bastard friend!" "Let go of me, Fox!" "Not until you tell me what you're after!" he yelled, before having to drop her with a groan, the pain and noise becoming too much. He was on his knees, pushing against his temples when he felt the first jolt of electricity burst through him. A harsh, inhuman scream was ripped from him as he dropped to the floor, and was immediately hit again. He felt his head bounce hard against solid wood of his floor before consciousness disserted him. "Jesus, look at that brain activity. Have you ever seen anything like that before?" Forcing his eyes open, Mulder stared up at a plain white ceiling dotted with florescent light panels. A very familiar type of ceiling. One he'd gotten used to seeing over the years after countless hospital stays. Shit. Licking his dry lips, glad of the brief respite from the mental noise and confusion plaguing him, Mulder tried to sit up, only to find straps across his chest and legs. "What the fuck," he mumbled, looking around and instantly spotted Diana standing a few feet away, watching him. Instantly, he felt angry, enraged. While he understood being furious at his ex-partner, it didn't explain the agitation he felt. It was like something was traipsing along his nerve endings, tormenting him. "What the hell is going on!" "Mr. Mulder, you're going to have to lay back and relax. Everything's going to be okay. Just stay calm." Mulder focused his eyes on the doctor standing over him. "No," he started with a shake of his head, "you need to release these bindings and let me up!" he ended in a shouted, jerking against the straps holding him to the bed, only to scream in agony as the noise and discord hit his mind in one searing wave of pain. *godihatetheviolentoneswhydoallthepyschosihavetodealwithhavetobeviolentthisi sthesecondthisweekwell30mgofbutabarbitalshouldcalmhimdown* He watched through squinted eyes as the doctor motion to someone else and he yelled amid the confusion and voices in his head, "I'm not crazy! Diana, please, don't let them do this." *spenderbetterberightaboutthisidontknowifdrugginghimisgoingtohelpbutitcanthu rtnotgiventhecurrentbehaviorhesexhibitinggibsonwasneverthisagitatedihopespen derknowswhathesdoingbyhavingmegivehimthatstuff* "Of course he wasn't agitated, you bitch! You weren't stabbing him in the back! You weren't drugging him with something either!" "Easy, Mr. Mulder, just calm down, everything will be better in a minute," the doctor cooed, pushing him over on his side to get access to his hip, as the other figure handed him the syringe. "No! Damn it, no! Don't do this! Stop!" His scream echoed off the walls as he felt the needle being pushed down into the muscle of his hip and the burn as the barbiturate entered his system. The doctor rubbed the area gently before lying him back down, but that didn't stop his struggling. He could feel the drug beginning to cloud his mind, trying to numb it, but, oh God, the noise and confusion and pain was so strong, so powerful. The drug wasn't working. Whatever Diana had given to him earlier while he was unconscious was counteracting it somehow. Tears were beginning to stream down his face, pooling along his ears as he screamed in agony. "Scully!" *mygodwhatthehelliswrongwithhimwhyisntthesedativeworkingheshouldbeoutofitbyn owjesusshutthehellupyouregivingmeaheadacheidontthinkthisiswhatspenderhadinmi ndwhenhetoldmetolockmulderupsomewherequietforawhilegodonlyknowswhattheoldbas tardhasplannedskinnersaidscullywasonherwaybackfromwheresheddisappearedtostra ngethathewouldntknowwherehispartnerhadgonethoughwhenioriginallyaskedhewaspro bablystilltoooutofittoanswermethisisntworkingweneedtogethimintoisolationhell enduphurtinghimselfifhekeepsthisupifigivehimanymoreitllkillhimwhileitsamorep ermanentwayofdealingwithhisproblemitsnotoneiwanttotry* The next couple of hours for Mulder were a blur. A horrible, confusing, painful blur. Or, at least he thought it was a couple of hours. Time had stopped having much of a meaning to him when he woke up. He recalled being moved into "isolation". Yeah, a small room with four padded walls. Not to mention an oh so obvious video camera crammed up in a corner to watch him. He vaguely remembered screaming. He wasn't sure if it was him, though he figured it was since who else would be screaming for Scully? He was exhausted and his head hurt. On more than one occasion he'd looked down into his hands to find tuffs of hair trapped between his curled fingers. But that was nothing compared to the noise in his head. The voices and that, that hideous whine were back, alternating between rushing through his mind, to simply shredding their way through it. He really was beginning to fear for his sanity. Occasionally he'd come across minds of people he knew. No one came to see him. None of the doctors, or any nurses. Not Scully either. Skinner and Fowley could stay away, though he'd felt them off and on, hovering somewhere nearby. A couple of times, he thought he'd felt C.G.B. Spender and that ratbastard Krycek. Those two assholes could stay well away, and since they hadn't darkened his little room with their presence, all he could do was assume they were keeping their distance. Wouldn't do for him to read their minds and find out what the hell they were planning now, would it? He felt and heard himself giggling. He really was starting to get tired. His back and forth pacing wasn't easing his confused mind any either. *poorbastardialwaysknewmulderwasonedgeandthankgodscullysbeenwithhimthesepast sixyearsbutseeinghimintherelikethatjusttearsatmedamnkrycek* Mulder made another unsteady circuit, hands buried in his hair, eyes squeezed shut. He didn't need, or want, to listen to Skinner's pitying thoughts about him. *thisisgoing-* He spun around and stormed towards the video camera, screaming. He knew Skinner was there, and Fowley, and- Oh God, oh thank you, Scully. *ohnoohgodmulderwhatshappenedtoyou* He felt like crying, like collapsing to his knees and sobbing like a baby, but he continued to pace. He couldn't stop himself. He could sort of sense Scully's thoughts. The doctor had told her he was violent, but she disagreed with him. She was at odds with Skinner and Fowley as well, Diana telling her he'd been calling for her all night. Well, that was true. She didn't trust them. That's right, don't trust them. Either of them. Lying bastards. *whatcouldtheypossiblewanttotalktomeaboutinthehall* "Scully," he cried, gazing up at the camera as his fingers hiding his mouth, praying that she'd hear him in the viewing room. Please, hear me, Scully. I need you, don't leave me here like this. I'm not crazy. God, please just get me out of here. *damnthemgodhowcouldhedothattothemaftereverythingthathadhappeneddamnit* Mulder's sense of Scully faded slightly, she wasn't as near as she had been. His pacing became more frantic. No, Scully, don't leave me, please! *bastardidiotdoctoriknowmulderwouldneverhurtmedamnrulesimsorrymulderiwishico uldseeyoubeforeileavecomfortyousomehowbuttheywontletmeseeyounotwithyouacting asyouarerightnowyouretoodangerousiknowyouarentbuttheyjustwontallowitiwillget yououtoftheremulderiswearthattoyouillfindtherestofthoseartifactsillfindwhats tormentingyouandiwillgetyououtoftherejustholdonformepartnerjustholdon* No, no, Scully, don't go! Don't leave me here! He wasn't sure if he actually screamed out those words, everything was becoming even more blurry, his breathing hitching in his throat as more tears came. God, he was so tired. He brushed up against the wall, and felt himself sliding down, his exhausted legs and aching feet unable to carry him anymore. Whatever Diana had given him must be wearing off, he'd been wired for so long. Instinctively, he knew if he stopped moving, they'd come in, really dope him up this time and strap him down somewhere. That had been the only good thing about whatever his ex-partner had given him. But he just couldn't move anymore. His head fell forward, tears trailing slowly down his cheeks as one more softly whispered word drifted off his chapped lips, "Scully." And then everything, the noise, confusion and pain, including his sense of self, disappeared, gladly, into a cool vortex of darkness. The end. (This portion is being silent in protest) Terisa "The future is here, and all bets are off." -Fox Mulder Come and visit my webpage, if you dare: http://home.earthlink.net/~terisafwm/