Disclaimer:  The characters of Mulder and Scully, and Skinner, and 
situations of the tv show, the X-Files are the property of Chris 
Carter and Fox Broadcasting.  Any copyright infringements herein were 
not intended.  

Rating:  PG -- not really too bad, bit of language, I think I 
mentioned the word sex once, nothing explicit.

S -- It's just a story...

A -- ?  I don't know, I guess there's a little bit of angst in there 
somewhere.

No Spoilers

NO MSR

Summary:  Mulder gets kidnapped, and it's Scully who comes to the 
rescue...if she can find him. 


"Blood and Ice"
by
D.L. Powers
R1YS@unb.ca



Mulder reached out and grasped a glass.  He thought it was his drink. 
The glasses were all the same, and everyone was drinking the same dark 
red wine as he was making the pretense of.  He'd set his down 
somewhere within the vicinity of the door, hoping that this time, 
Scully would actually make it out the door before being greeted by yet 
another of her old friends from college. Without thinking much of it, 
he raised it to his lips to take a sip and see what it actually tasted 
like. 

"Uh, Agent Mulder?  I wouldn't drink that if I were you."  It was one 
of the guests.  The liquid was just shy of touching his lips when he 
withdrew it. 

"Excuse me?"

"Well, actually, that's a different stock than what everyone else is 
drinking.  It's an acquired taste.  Very acquired."  Mulder tried not 
to blush as he handed the glass to the tall man who had a boyish light 
in his eye.  He had something in his eye. 

"Sorry, all the glasses look alike..."  Mulder rambled numbly.  He was 
about to ask what the 'very acquired' taste was, but the guest was 
gone. Not vanished, just talking to another guest.  A strikingly 
beautiful woman, wearing an alarmingly skimpy dress for the current 
weather of minus twenty degrees centigrade.  Her eyes sparkled with 
the same light as the man's had.  Mulder sighed and scanned the room 
for Scully.  He caught sight of a flash of red hair flying by the 
window across the room. Groaning inwardly, he began to fight his way 
over to her. 

"Hey, Spooky!"  Mulder winced and pretended he didn't hear, continuing 
on his way.  "Mulder!"  Thomas was the one person in the room, besides 
Scully, who knew him other than by reputation alone.  Mulder wanted 
nothing to do with him while he was as red nosed as Rudolph was on 
Christmas Eve.  Thinking quickly, he ducked behind the wall separating 
a little kitchenette from the rest of the office.  Skinner sat at the 
table, drinking the same red liquid that seemed to be going around 
faster than floodwater. 

"Is there a back door to this place?" Mulder asked after a moment of 
hesitation. 

"No.  I looked."  He looked at Mulder with an understanding and 
sympathetic eye. 





Mulder shivered as he reached into his pocket for his keys.  Scully 
disappeared again, so he left without her.  She was having enough fun 
without him anyway.  He placed the key into the lock.  It didn't fit. 
Frowning, he stepped back from the car to examine it more closely.  
"Do all the cars around here look alike too?"  It was the same man 
whose drink Mulder took. 

"This is your car, right?"  Mulder backed up a little more.  The guy 
nodded.  Mulder nodded. "Sorry.  It really does look like my car, 
though." 

"It seems we have a lot in common.  Think?"  He smiled toothily at 
Mulder. Not really able to put his finger on it, Mulder thought there 
was something about the smile that wasn't quite right. 

"Yeah, okay.  Sorry."  He turned to leave, but was blocked by two more 
people with similar toothy smiles. He recognized one of them from the 
party, but the other one was new.  They didn't look like they were 
intentionally blocking him, just standing there, hanging out.  But 
they still gave Mulder a chill. 

They didn't speak, but they gave the effect of entrapment.  Mulder 
didn't panic, it was too late for panic.  And the wine helped some.  
He gauged the distance between his hand and his gun, and the distance 
between himself and imminent danger. 

"What do you want?"  He asked, cautiously.

"We understand you've had some...dealings with some of our 
colleagues." The one behind him spoke.  Not exactly hostile words, but 
he let Mulder know he was the head wolf. 

"That may be, but what does that have to do with," he waved his hand 
at the three of them, "this." 

"You shared an experience with a new member of our circle.  Last year, 
I believe." 

"Wait, is this the vampire thing, because if it is..." Mulder's words 
were lost as the two behind him grabbed his head and arms.  He saw the 
one in front of him advance with strange vampire-like fangs gleaming 
with an evil shine. 

Mulder, startled but still not panicked, tried to wrench out of his 
captors' grips.  Their hands were like iron. But, whether or not they 
were preternatural, they were still subject to the laws of physics.  
Mulder tried to move forward but his shoes couldn't keep him upright, 
so he toppled over.  The two who held him didn't have much traction 
either and they went over with him.  The third vampire, still 
standing, advanced toward the writhing heap of vampire and human.  He 
almost got a grip on Mulder's shoulder, but the ice brought him down 
too.  He landed on top of Mulder, who was engaged in punching the male 
vampire in the face. 

Mulder felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and every thing went black.


****


"Fox..."  It was a fleeting sound and the voice wasn't familiar to 
him. "I can't believe it!  This is wonderful.  Get the doctor, James." 
 A slight scuffle sound like shoes against linoleum went toward the 
door. 

Mulder opened his eyes and squinted against the bright light.  
Eventually, a woman with dark brown hair and little wire rimmed 
glasses came into focus.  She smiled at him warmly.  He opened his 
mouth to ask her who she was, but a warbled moan replaced his words. 

"Ssh, Fox.  Lie still now."  She acted like she was his wife or 
something. He found that lying still wasn't a problem.  His arms and 
legs were being bombarded with itty bitty pins and needles that gnawed 
at his sanity. The fact that she was patting his hand did nothing to 
ease his discomfort. 

After a few minutes, the rest of the room came into focus.  He was in 
a hospital.  Or an apartment.  One half of the room looked like it 
came out of a hospital emergency room.  The other half looked like it 
was a well lived in home.  Something strange was going on here. 

The doctor suddenly loomed over his face, flashing a little pen light 
into his eyes.  Mulder squinted reflexively.  The doctor smiled 
triumphantly. "You're doing fine now.  Everything's looking 
optimistically better.  How do you feel?" 

"Where..." Mulder found it difficult to speak, and his voice sounded 
like he'd swallowed a ball of cat hair. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Doctor Spenser.  You're in Fullerton county hospital.  We 
specialize in the care and shelter of coma patients.  You've been in a 
coma for five months now." 

Mulder was struck speechless.  "Don't worry Fox, honey," the woman 
spoke up.  "We've been here with you."  Mulder looked at her for a 
moment, then back at the doctor. 

"I think there's been a mistake."





"Jenny, don't worry," Spenser said to the woman, while they believed 
Mulder to be asleep.  "Memory loss is sometimes usual in a case like 
this. He's had serious head trauma.  I didn't really expect anything 
less than this." 

"But...what's this Agent Fox Mulder business?"  Earlier in the day, 
they'd listened to Mulder's story of being in the FBI.  He'd left out 
the bit about being attacked by vampires.  Somehow, he doubted that 
would help his case any. 

"I've given that some thought as well," Spenser rubbed his greying 
beard thoughtfully.  "I believe it may be the result of intense dreams 
while he was in the coma. Since he lost his own identity, he's using 
the dream as a replacement past.  I'm no psychologist, but that seems 
to be what has happened in this case." 

Jenny glanced at Mulder, making sure he was asleep. "You're not going 
to try and find this Dana Scully person, are you?".  I see no need.  
She's merely a figment of his imagination."  Being thus reassured, 
Jenny returned to Mulder's bedside to watch him sleep, as she had done 
everyday for the past five months.  But now, she was glad of the job, 
knowing that he was sure to wake up in a few hours. 





Mulder didn't move so the doctor wouldn't hold back any valuable 
information from Jenny and, therefore, him. Hearing the news of being 
cut off from Scully, he almost sat up and shouted his anger at them, 
but restrained himself from it.  He didn't really think he could shout 
anyway. Instead, he devised plans to make the call himself.  If he had 
actually been in a coma for five months, he may have to spend a few 
weeks recovering first. 





Not to betray any faith in his coping abilities, he was getting a 
little concerned that he might not be able to get home.  The 
disappointment of the disbelieving doctor was only the first of many 
and they were starting to wear him down. 

Dr. Spenser treated him in a most condescending manner, not even 
allowing him to make a phone call.  About a week after he woke up from 
the coma, Jenny had started work in a recording studio, a job she had 
recently picked up.  She claimed that she had a job in a law firm, but 
due to complications in her contract they let her go, so she could be 
with him in the hospital. 

Mulder had listened to her story with skepticism.  She must have 
missed it because she left him with the same smile on her face as she 
had when she came in. 

"Dr. Spenser," he said during the next visit before the other man 
could speak.  "I need to talk to you.  It's about Jenny.  She's 
disturbed, emotionally." 

"Oh, I suppose you're a psychologist now," the doctor replied 
offhandedly, going through a chart. 

"Well, as a matter of fact..." Mulder ignored the look from his 
doctor. "If you'll just let me call..." 

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why?  Are you afraid that I might be telling the truth, and that you 
don't want to admit that you allowed yourself to be taken in by a 
crazy woman's lies?  Oh, the humiliation..."  Mulder stopped to catch 
his breath. His little spiel, coupled with anger, left him wheezing. 
The effects of the coma were leaving him tired more often than usual. 
 "Even a prisoner gets one phone call," he said softly. 

"You're not a prisoner, Mr. Mulder.  You're a patient.  My patient, 
and I am responsible for your well-being. I don't think its wise for 
you to attempt to find whatever life you believe you had before the 
coma.  It doesn't exist."  Spenser spoke with such a calm tone that 
Mulder wanted to dig his fingers into the man's eyes.  "You'd better 
get some rest now." He left the room the victor, leaving Mulder to 
fume silently and alone. 





Sitting up in his horribly uncomfortable hospital bed, Mulder went 
through his lifeline.  He remembered, kind of, the night Samantha 
disappeared. He remembered the anger and pain that followed.  He 
remembered graduating from high school, and then from college.  There 
wasn't a day missing from his years at Oxford.  The X-Files, Scully.  
It was all there.  Unless he was crazy, he was a victim of mistaken 
identity.  He didn't want to consider the first idea unless it became 
necessary. 

First, it was important for him to discover the location of his 
hospital. Obviously he wasn't in Washington anymore.  Fullerton county 
wasn't a familiar name to him. He had yet to see a newspaper, and 
there was no tv in his room.  It was maddenly frustrating. 

Jenny hesitatingly pushed open the door to his room and peered in.  
She smiled, tentatively testing his emotional state.  Mulder raised a 
hand in defeated admittance.  A boy, about twelve years old, stood 
behind Jenny. Mulder saw him peering out from behind her. 

"Fox?"  She reached back and tugged the boy forward. "This is James.  
My son."  She glowed fiercely with pride.  "Do you remember him?" 

Mulder didn't know what to say.  He couldn't lie and say that he did. 
That would not come to a good end.  But he felt like if he did say no, 
he had no recollection of him, that Jenny would break down and cry.  
He'd watched her cry enough. 

"I'm sorry.  I don't know."  That was a fairly neutral statement.  
"Come here."  He patted the bed beside him for James to sit beside 
him.  James looked up at his mother. She nodded and he moved forward 
slowly.  "do you really know me?"  Mulder asked after he was settled. 
He did not miss the tiny gasp that escaped from Jenny's mouth.  James 
just looked pale and sad.  He nodded. Mulder was not offended by the 
obvious lie, but he continued instead. "You must forgive me, I don't 
remember much...but, did we ever go fishing?  You know, male bonding 
type stuff?" 

"Fishing?  I've never....I mean, there's not much around here for 
fishing, really."  He looked at Jenny.  She looked like she was on the 
brink of tears. 

She might have actually cried, but the door was opened by the doctor. 
She quickly regained her slipping composure and smiled.  The doctor 
curiously blinked at her red eyes as he walked by her.  He didn't say 
anything to her.  "I have some good news for you all.  I've arranged 
for you to go see a physical therapist today.  She'll start you on a 
program, and you'll be up and walking again in no time."  Jenny sobbed 
loudly, but when they looked, she was smiling. 

"That's wonderful, isn't it Fox?"





Mulder decided it had been a while since he'd walked when he first 
tried to put a little weight on his legs. While he was waiting for the 
therapist to arrive, he thought he'd get a head start.  Or at least 
try and see how much time he'd have to put into therapy.  The orderly 
who brought him in, sat in a corner to wait until the therapist 
arrived.  Mulder regarded him with a critical eye.  His wild and 
frizzy hair defied the familiarity his face insisted upon.  Even 
through the mangy beard, he had a familiarity in his eyes.  But, 
Mulder couldn't place it. 

Carefully, he slowly pushed himself up onto his shaky legs.  They felt 
like jello, and threatened to give him up to gravity. 

"Not so fast, mister," a thickly accented voice heralded the arrival 
of the therapist.  Mulder looked over, falling back into the 
wheelchair. "You must go slow at first." The woman had short spiky 
white-blond hair, which was her most distinguishing feature.  Her eyes 
were a dark brown, and could be seen a mile away in her pale, pale 
face.  Make-up killed any chance to see what her face really looked 
like.  "Come Sebastian," she commanded the orderly to follow her.  
"Help me get him up on the table." 

Mulder tried to identify the accent while they moved him.  It wouldn't 
be identified.  It sounded slightly Swedish, but with a hint French.  
Any further contemplation was interrupted by cold hands on his calf.  
He yelped and sat up quickly.  The therapist looked at him accusingly. 

"Work with me, please.  Lie still."

"Ever consider wearing gloves?"  Mulder was gently pushed back down 
again. 



*****



Mulder saw the therapist three times a week and in between times, he 
exercised his weakened legs on his own.  Despite the doctor's warning, 
he pushed himself to go step further than what the therapist told him. 
 He was very anxious to get back on his feet. 

His hard work paid off well, too.  Two and a half weeks later he was 
able to walk on his own without even the cane he had been obliged to 
use.  The therapist proudly took credit for his speedy recovery. 

The release papers were signed a week later.  A day that promised 
freedom for him.  He never actually gave much thought of where he 
would go precisely, but his first stop would be a phone. Scully would 
understand one little collect call. 

He reviewed his belongings, which were lined up on the bed.  His suit 
that he had worn the night of the attack was in tatters, but they 
saved it for him.  His watch, busted, lay on top of the suit.  A 
wallet sized picture of Samantha, without the wallet, was on the bed 
next to the suit.  This he picked up carefully and slid it into the 
pocket of the shirt he was currently wearing.  Jenny had brought some 
clothes for him from home. He didn't know who's exactly they were, and 
he didn't think he wanted to, either.  He was just grateful that they 
fit him. 

His wallet, ID and gun, along with any money he might have had, was 
missing.  He asked about them, but no one had seen anything of the 
kind when he was brought in.  He reasoned that the staff wouldn't know 
about his personal effects if they had been taken by people from the 
hospital ER he had been taken to originally.  Which would have been in 
Washington, or should have been. 

He went to the window and looked out at the park-like grounds in front 
of the hospital.  A few patients who were readjusting to normal life 
shuffled by. 

"Fox?"  Jenny stood in the doorway when he turned.  She fidgeted 
slightly, squeezing tightly the fingers of one hand in the other.  
"Are you almost ready to go?" 

"I'm more than ready to leave," he said, not returning the smile she 
gave him.  "Listen, Jenny, I don't know what you expected to 
accomplish with this little game, but..." 

"This is no game," she said in a firm voice.  "I know what you're 
planning," she slowly closed the door behind her back, not looking 
away from him.  "I would reevaluate those plans if I were you." 

"Why?  Why would I go home with you?  I don't even know you.  You 
don't know me." 

Jenny winced as if he had struck her a physical blow. "I know you," 
she said in a very soft, very threatening voice.  While he wondered 
what that may have meant, she glowered at him from beneath her long 
lashes.  "You've been spending a lot of time with James, haven't you?" 
He stared at her, waiting for more.  "Well, let me put it this way," 
she said when it became apparent that he didn't fully understand.  "If 
you refuse to come with me, there will be a terrible, probably fatal, 
accident waiting for him."  She smiled at his horrified expression. 

"But, he's...he's your son,"  he could not believe what he was hearing 
from this woman.  He was living in a nightmare. 

"Fox, I'm so lonely," she said through a sigh.  "My son is at that 
particular age where he wants nothing to do with his mother.  Besides, 
I need a man, not a boy." She couldn't suppress a smile that was full 
of secrets and, she hoped, promises. 

Stunned, Mulder's mouth dropped open.  He gestured confusedly, looking 
for the right words.  They were not forthcoming. 

"Well, you finish packing, and I'll be waiting downstairs."  She 
started to leave, but stopped when an afterthought occurred to her.  
"Oh, and if you were planning on making trouble for me, don't.  I can 
make that accident look like it wasn't an accident, if you get my 
drift.  And there won't be a doctor in this country who wouldn't think 
you're not delusional."  Smiling again, she opened the door and 
disappeared into the hall. 

Mulder stood there for a moment, unable to comprehend and believe what 
had just transpired.  Feeling a little closed in, he went into the 
bathroom to splash cold water on his face.  He leaned on the sink and 
stared at an unfamiliar reflection.  His hair was long and unruly, 
even after he combed it. 

Thinking about what Jenny had said, he realized she was right about 
one thing.  He had spent a lot of time with her son.  During the two 
weeks, while Mulder was walking on his own with the cane to help keep 
his balance, Jenny was there when she could be, when she didn't have 
to work. But James was there more often, now that he was out of school 
for summer. It was through James that Mulder learned about Jenny.  
Jenny told him tangible things about herself, like where she worked, 
and where she shopped for clothes and groceries, but James told him 
what she was like when she did these things.  most of the time, she 
was withdrawn and sullen.  When she was visiting Mulder though, she 
seemed happy and content. Mulder was starting to consider the other 
option of insanity. 

"James," Mulder had begun carefully one day, as the two of them walked 
slowly around the track in the gym.  "How did it happen?  I mean, how 
did I...end up in a coma?" 

"What do you remember?  Anything?"

"I just remember that it was night.  Not much else."  It wasn't really 
a lie.  It had been night. 

"Well, I don't know all the details, but Mother said it was a really 
bad fall.  You're an artist, you knew that," Mulder kept his face 
neutral, trying to imagine what his artwork would look like, "and you 
were standing on a ladder to reach for a brush or something, and you 
slipped and fell. Your head hit the table and that's why there was so 
much blood.  You also dislocated your shoulder in the fall."  James 
fell silent.  "Do you remember any of that?"  He looked at Mulder 
hopefully. He'd seen the same look on Jenny's face.  Maybe he was 
crazy.  Maybe they were really his family.  He remembered the pain in 
his shoulder.  He thought that it had been teeth though.  It hadn't 
felt like a dislocation.  And he would know. 

The other past wouldn't go away.  He just did not remember these 
people at all. 

His eyes drifted down the mirror, and suddenly he saw a funny scar on 
his neck that he hadn't remembered seeing before.  Angling his head, 
he examined the scarred skin more closely.  It looked like someone had 
bitten him. He thought back to the attack and remembered the pain in 
his shoulder.  That must have been it. 

"Mulder?"  It was a man's voice.  Suddenly, Mulder recognized it, 
after weeks of hearing it everyday, or thought he did. 

"Skinner?"  Mulder was at the door again.  It was the orderly with the 
wild and frizzy hair.  He stood behind a wheelchair.  Mulder stared at 
him for a moment.  The orderly didn't speak very often, but when he 
did, it was always gruff and mean sounding.  Just now, it sounded like 
Walter Skinner's voice, but he gave no other indication that that was 
the case. 

"Jenny's waiting for you downstairs."  Mulder's face, and heart, fell 
when he resumed his rough persona.  He was hearing things that weren't 
there. 

"Okay."





Mulder watched closely as the houses went by.  Jenny chattered away 
about the neighborhood, and her friends. He didn't pay too close 
attention to her.  Where he was, at least at the moment, was more 
important to him. The buildings were neat, little houses, owned, no 
doubt, by middle class working families.  Jenny pulled her car up to a 
little green and white house.  Mulder couldn't believe he had let 
himself get talked into this. He waited until she got out before he 
opened his own door. He looked over the tidy house, checking all 
possible escape routes, just to amuse himself at the very least, but 
also preparing himself for the future. 

She appeared at his side suddenly, carrying his things. Eagerly, she 
intertwined her arm in his and started to lead him to the house.  He 
pulled away from her and avoided her eye, and her hand by stuffing his 
own hand in his pocket to avoid her hand.  She didn't seem to notice. 
 He'd have to wait until a better plan presented itself before he 
could leave. 

Inside the little white and green trimmed house, Mulder finally got to 
see what his art looked like.  Jenny walked him around the house, 
pointing out little trinkets that he had allegedly bought for her at 
one time or another.  Looking around, Mulder noticed a slightly off 
decor about the house.  The color of the wallpaper didn't quite match 
the carpet, or the little knick-knacks weren't counterbalancing each 
other properly.  It was also done in an odd combination of yellows, 
greens and browns. 

They ended up in a little studio in the back room where paint 
splatters and droplets littered a work bench, and stacks of canvas 
lying about in disarray.  Mulder uncovered one and looked at the 
picture.  It was a depressing shade of grey, black, and mauve. The 
swirls were intertwined with black threads, strangling it in places.  
Dark patches of black shaded the grey, creating a dark and depressing. 
It was death and despair on canvas.  There was no other way to 
describe it. 

"I painted this?"

"Just before the accident.  I don't think you were done though."  She 
lightly brushed her fingers across the mauve swirls.  "It's beautiful. 
I think that any gallery would be insane not to spend a fortune for 
it." 

Mulder looked at her to find a hint of sarcasm.  Her expression was 
one of definite sincerity.  She actually liked the painting.  "Maybe 
I'll just let you keep it." He moved on to another stack, leaving 
Jenny standing there in a state of elation.


*****

Jenny remained with Mulder for nearly a week before she would even 
consider going back to work.  It was the longest week of Mulder's 
life. The only comfort he got was visiting the therapist twice a week. 
 She began giving him a more weighted exercise program, prescribing a 
daily jog, provided he felt strong enough.  He took solace in the 
small comforts his morning jaunts of freedom, and looked forward to 
them. 

Jenny cooked every meal for him like it was his last, and watched him 
swallow every morsel.  It wasn't completely unpleasant, but it wasn't 
like living with someone he had some feelings for. 

The first night, she tried to kiss him goodnight, but he firmly held 
her away, giving her a serious 'no' look. There was a brief flash of 
intense coldness in her eyes. But it soon melted away, leaving the 
same happy smiling face that she always had around him.  The icy look 
had chilled Mulder and it left him wondering what she was capable of. 
 How far would she go to get him to love her?  Was that what she even 
wanted? 

He gave her his coldest, blandest glance before closing the door to 
the room she allowed him to use, thinking it would be better if he 
stayed in a separate room to begin with.  Mulder firmly told her they 
would never share a room if he had any thing to say about it. She just 
smiled. 

Too late, he heard her locking the door behind him.  He tried the 
knob, but he already knew that it did little good to rattle a locked 
door.  With nothing else to do, he checked the window, of course 
finding it locked, and chose to sleep through his worries rather than 
be awake and worry about them.

His dreams predicted a disturbed outlook for him.  He was surrounded 
by darkness all the time, and several times, he lost his way back 
home.  For every time he saw the way home, he couldn't move until the 
light faded away, leaving him in the cold darkness again.  He must 
have woken up five times from deep sleep in a sweat soaked sheet. 

Finally, the last time he woke up, the sun was just coming up and the 
room was too light for him to even consider trying to get to sleep 
again.  His shirt was still damp, and he took it off before he started 
shivering. He found some sweats in the dresser and he put them on. 

He heard the lock click, offering salvation.  He didn't leap at it 
though, waiting for the catch.  After a few moments of nothing, he 
reached for the door.  It was open, and he looked out.  The hallway 
was empty.  It had been nothing more than to make sure he didn't leave 
in the middle of the night.  She just wanted to keep him like a pet, 
he decided. 

With those disquieting thoughts, he slowly padded toward the bathroom. 
Fortunately, the lock was on the inside of that door.  He locked it 
and turned the shower on. He thought so hard about his predicament, 
that he was oblivious to the scalding water flowing over his back. 

The next week went by, with pretty much the same routine as the first 
night.  Jenny gave up trying to show him any affection, as soon as it 
became apparent that he wasn't about to return it.  During the whole 
week, he felt like he was walking on thin ice.  He didn't dare try to 
use the phone unless Jenny was out of the room, which she never was.  
It soon became clear that getting out of the house was not going to be 
as easy as he'd hoped. 

Until the day came when Jenny announced that she was going back to 
work. It seemed too good to be true.  An empty house, freedom was just 
around the corner, his mind happily considered a plan of jumbled 
ideas.  But still, he had to be careful not to upset the balance 
between escape and further entrapment.  Tipping Jenny off to his 
inward rapture would be disastrous. 

But Mulder's plans came to a crashing demise before they were even in 
sight.  The night before she was supposed to return to work, James 
didn't show up for dinner.  Dinner had become a ritual.  In the 
beginning, Mulder wouldn't even go down when Jenny called him. 
Refusing to cooperate in any way was his first plan.  It hadn't 
worked.  Jenny retaliated with a quiet threat.  He decided that he 
would be present, as long as she had the upper hand.  At the moment 
she did.  The news of her absence couldn't have made him happier, but 
he continued to rebel silently, if smashing a few vases 'accidentally' 
could be called silent. 

The dinner ritual was disrupted when James didn't show up.  It 
startled Mulder, he thought the worst immediately. 

"Where's James?"  He asked.

"Oh, he went to his grandmother's for a few days.  Can't be helped.  
I'll be working tomorrow, and you won't be able to look after him, so, 
Nana will have to do." 

"What do you mean, I won't be able to look after him. Why not?"

"Fox, dear," she set a bowl of some kind of soup in front of him, 
"you've been in a coma for five months, you need your rest, not a 
twelve year old child running around disturbing you." 

Mulder considered that.  It made some weird sense, but there had to be 
a catch.  She wouldn't just leave him alone in the house for an entire 
day. It had been only three weeks, not enough time to develop trust in 
him. He thought. 

Distractedly, he dug his spoon into the thick mushy soup, that looked 
more primordial than mushroomy.  A spoonful found it's way into his 
mouth. As it slithered down his throat, he threw a glance at Jenny.  
She was looking at him almost expectantly.  Digging in again, he tried 
to ignore her, by randomly guessing what the mystery flavor of the 
soup was. Reaching for the bread, his hand suddenly felt like it 
weighed thirty pounds, and dropped loosely to the table. 

At first, he didn't really understand what had happened, his mind had 
gone a little hazy.  Far too late to be effective, he swiped the soup 
away with his other hand.  "What...did you....do..." he slumped 
forward.  His last conscious memory was stumbling up the stairs with 
Jenny as his only support. 





A stab of pain woke Mulder up.  Partially.  His head throbbed with a 
rhythm bordering on insanity.  Automatically, he reached up to attempt 
to soothe the pain away with his hands, or maybe just to assure 
himself that his head was still attached.  His hands didn't make it to 
his head.  They were halted by some as yet unseen force. 

Opening his eyes, he saw the problem.  His hands were tightly wrapped 
with a soft rope, the other end was tied to the frame of the bed he 
was lying on.  Blinking at the unbelievable turn of events, he tugged 
experimentally on the ropes.  Even if he had not been weakened from 
the coma and the drug Jenny gave him, he would not have been able to 
get out of those bonds. His feet were also tied to the bed in a 
similar fashion. 

"Damn!"  He let his head drop back to his pillow, banging it on a 
small hard object.  Looking over, he saw that it was a remote control. 
 Taking a moment to let it sink in that he was in deep trouble, he 
noticed the tv. She had left him something to entertain himself with. 
How kind of her, he thought bitterly, as he clicked it on. 

Instantly, he saw the most horrifying scene flashing on the screen.  
It was so disturbing that he couldn't even look away at first.  On the 
screen was a home video of Jenny in bed with a man.  The position of 
the camera made it difficult to determine the man's identity, but not 
impossible. He looked directly at the camera more than once, though 
his eyes were blank and he seemed to be in a drug induced stupor.  It 
was him. 

The digital timer at the bottom of the screen pointed out that the 
timing was accurate, indicating that it had been the night before.  
Just before he hurled the remote at the window, he made sure the tv 
was turned off, removing the hideous sight.  The window didn't break 
as he'd hoped it would. 





"Fox!"  Jenny screamed as she entered his room, dropping the bags she 
carried.  "What have you done?" 

"What have *YOU* done?"  He croaked, swinging his tethered hands at 
her in what he hoped was a menacing fashion.  "Not only have you taken 
me away from my life, denying that it even exists, and threatened me, 
and now have tied me up like some animal, but you have violated me in 
a way..." he choked.  "You psycho-bitch!"  H yelled, throwing fists in 
her direction, only to have them rebound back to the pillow. 

"You think I raped you?"  She looked stricken, approaching him 
cautiously, like he was a wounded animal.  "Now, you've cut yourself. 
 Let me help you with that," she touched his hand, causing him to jerk 
away from her. "Yes, you're right, I'll go wash up first and bring 
some ointment for it." She stood up, clearly calmer than she had been 
when she first saw the blood drying on his forearms. 

When she returned, she carried a bowl of warm water and some bandages. 
Untying his hands one at a time, she cleaned the cuts that encircled 
his wrists.  He was too weak to try overpowering her, so he let her 
nurse his wounds. 

James did not come home that night, nor the next.  Jenny didn't speak 
about him, even when Mulder asked about him.  He was beginning to 
wonder if the boy was still alive.  And if he wasn't, what was keeping 
him from just leaving Jenny. 

"Where is James?"  Mulder asked, quite forcefully, at dinner nearly a 
week since he'd left for a visit with 'Nana'. 

"He's visiting my mother, Fox.  Don't worry, he's not dead.  Why would 
I kill the one thing that's keeping you here?  Would you like some 
salad?" Mulder slumped down in the chair, not tasting any of the food 
in his mouth. Dinner had become a macabre ritual, where Mulder argued 
with Jenny about James, and then, with one look from Jenny, took his 
sleeping pills like a good boy, and James lived for one more day.  At 
least, this way, he didn't fall face first into his soup, and knew 
that where ever he fell asleep, Jenny wouldn't be there. 

More often then not, he woke up with his new padded restraints, 
looking like they had come from a mental hospital.  Wryly, he wondered 
where on earth Jenny would have gotten anything like that. 


*****


Several days passed, or several weeks, time blurred in his head, 
minutes and hours were meaningless to him. Mulder felt sun creeping 
under his eyelids and woke to a strange noise.  A child's laughter.  
Rolling over, he realized that he could roll over.  His restraints 
were lying on the floor in the corner. 

"James...?"  He could still hear the familiar voice downstairs.  It 
hadn't been a dream.  He opened the door and, careful not to let the 
dizziness overcome him, he found the stairs.  In the living room, he 
saw James and two other boys laughing at the tv.  When he entered the 
room, they all stopped and looked at him in wonder. 

"Hey, Jimmy," one of the other boys asked in a tough guy voice.  "That 
him?"  He stood up to an impressive height for a twelve year old. 

"Uh, yeah," James said, looking at the floor. 

"Wow," the other one, much smaller than even James, stood next to the 
first boy.  "Are you really an FBI agent?"  He took an absentminded 
bite of cookie, looking Mulder up and down, doubtfully.  The tall boy 
gave him an expectant look that might have been seen on the face of a 
gangster from the movies. 

"What?"  Mulder blinked at them.  "FBI..." he murmured, looking at 
James. 

"He ain't no FBI agent," the tall boy stepped forward, regarding 
Mulder with a 'bad guy' aura.  "Where's your gun?" 

"James!"  Jenny came, screeching, into the room, sending the other 
boys scattering for the exits.  "James, what did I tell you about 
this?!"  She advanced on the boy, making him cower in the corner of 
the chair he sat in. 

"Jenny," Mulder grabbed her shoulder.  "Stop this..." His crusade to 
stop her was ended when she rounded on him, swinging a fist towards 
his face. The punch itself didn't knock him out, but it set him off 
balance and he banged his head on the corner of the table in the hall. 





Mulder woke up in a bright room, lying on a metal table.  Shocked and 
dazed from the blow to his head, he sat up suddenly, looking for 
little grey men with alien instruments to poke and prod their 
abductees.  He was in a doctor's office.  It was Dr. Spenser's office. 

While he sat there, the door opened and the grizzled orderly he 
remembered from before entered with a wheelchair.  "Awake?"  He 
growled.  "Good. Get in it," he pushed the chair forward.  Hesitantly, 
not liking one bit the tone of the other man's tone, Mulder did as he 
was told.  At a brisk pace, the orderly pushed Mulder down the 
corridors into a wing of the building he'd never seen before.  It 
appeared to be empty. They entered a room that was dimmed by heavy 
drapes over the windows. 

"What's going on?"  Mulder asked, when he closed the door after 
checking both ways. 

"We're waiting for someone," he replied not looking at him.  A few 
moments later, the door opened again and a woman walked in glancing 
sternly at them both. 

"The therapist," Mulder muttered.  "Why'd you bring me here just 
for..." 

"This is no time for jokes, Mulder," the woman turned after again, 
checking to see that no one followed her. "Don't you know a rescue 
plan when you see one?" 

"Scully?"  He stood up to get a better look.  "Thank god.  I thought I 
was going crazy."  He went over to her and they shared a mutually 
influenced embrace.  "My, you've changed," he grinned, feeling a 
little more like himself. 

Scully looked confused, but then remembered her 'new do', then 
scowled. "The things I do for you, Mulder," she muttered, but smiled 
good naturedly.  A well timed cough interrupted their little reunion. 
 "Oh, Mulder, this is Agent Ferguson.  We were assigned to locate 
you." 

"Then, why aren't we gone?"  He looked at the two agents.  "And for 
that matter, why didn't you tell me before?" 

"We were being watched.  Mulder, do you remember a woman called Angela 
Westan?  She was suspected of murdering five people.  You did a 
psychological profile on her two years ago."  Mulder nodded slowly, 
waiting for the catch.  "Ferguson was assigned the case, but her paper 
trail ended rather abruptly, she was gone." 

"Yeah?"

"Angela Westan is Jenny, Mulder."

"And you're saying..."

"We want you to back, undercover, of course," Ferguson finished his 
thought.  "You've already got the perfect cover.  She'd never suspect 
anything."

"No," Mulder said, firmly, walking away from them.

"Mulder," Scully started to follow.

"You don't know what she's done to me."  He turned to face them again. 
"She-" he broke off, deciding not to tell them of the indignities he'd 
been through.  Instead, thinking that if he could hold out a little 
longer, he could help put away one more killer.  Besides, Scully had 
bleached her hair for him, it was the least he could do.  "Alright, 
fine. What do you want me to do?" 





Jenny seemed a little more on edge when Mulder returned. James was 
gone again, and the restraints were back. Mulder had spent four days 
back in the hospital, with a bad concussion, and a sprained wrist.  
Finally, back into the routine again after three days. 

"Jenny," he stared into his plate.  "Where's James?" She was silent 
for moment, then she reached over the table and proffered him two 
pills. Mulder glared at them. Instead of taking them, he repeated the 
question. "Where is he?" 

"He's at summer camp.  He'll be there for six weeks." Her voice was 
dull and lifeless.  She continued to hold the pills out.  Mulder 
slapped her hand away. 

"Don't lie to me."  His voice threatened.  She looked at him in shock. 
"You can't threaten me any more.  I'm not going to let you."  He 
smiled at her.  Her expression remained calm and untouched. 

"Fox," she got up and picked the pills up off the floor. "I'm going to 
have a baby.  It's yours."  Mulder stared at her.  "About three 
months." He started to make the obvious comment.  "If you had watched 
the rest of the tape I made for you, you'd know that we've actually 
been having sex for awhile.  You weren't in a coma for five months.  I 
was drugging you. I just thought it was time you knew the truth." 
After a moment, he took the pills and swallowed them absently. 





"Damn it!"  Ferguson cursed, as he paced.  "What the hell is he 
doing?" Scully looked at him, calmly.  He sighed and sat down beside 
her.  "He was supposed to contact us an hour ago, what can he be 
thinking?" 

"I don't know what he's doing, but I'm sure he has his reasons."  
Ferguson looked at her, incredulous. 

"I don't believe you."  Scully looked at him with a questioning glare. 
"You know exactly what I'm talking about.  You and Mulder.  Haven't 
you seen the pattern?  I've read the reports, I know how you two 
operate. Or, more accurately, how *he* operates, while you sit in your 
office waiting for him to call in." 

"Ferguson, you have no right to bad mouth my partner like that.  True, 
he strays from regulation from time to time, but his rate of success 
is a hell of a lot higher than yours.  He may step over the line a 
lot, but we've all got our faults.  Vanity, in your case." 

"Pride in yours," Ferguson mumbled back.

Scully and Ferguson waited the rest of the night in a cold silence. 
Mulder never contacted them as he had promised.  He didn't call them 
that night or the next. A week went by, then two.  A month had nearly 
passed by the time AD Skinner called her on her delay. 

"Sir, Mulder is not feeling very communicative.  We were supposed to 
meet, but..."

"You shouldn't have let him go back, Agent Scully."  She could almost 
hear him frowning at her. 

"Sir," she hesitated, looking at Ferguson.  "Sir, we asked him to go 
back."  Ferguson sat up suddenly, shaking his head violently, but it 
was too late. 

"What?"  He was silent for a long, excruciating moment. "Get him out 
of there, now." 

"We can't," she lowered her voice, as if to smother out the shame.  
"He hasn't called us, we don't know where-" There was sigh at the 
other end of the line.  "We'll find him."  Skinner hung up on her. 

"I don't know how we're going to get out of this one, Mulder,"  she 
muttered, ignoring the questioning look from Ferguson. 





Mulder sat up in bed, sweat streaming down his face. The nightmare 
dissolved quickly before he could remember it, and he was thankful.  
He didn't want to remember it.  He wondered, as he squinted into the 
darkness of the room, why the tv had been turned off.  He never turned 
it off, sleep was almost impossible without it. Reaching over to the 
table, he found the remote and turned it on, and already thoughts of a 
late night talk show began to enter his mind. 

When the screen flicked on, it wasn't a talk show.  The dim light from 
the tv illuminated the room, and he looked around it.  "When did I 
bring the tv in here?" He thought out loud.  Then, he focused on the 
screen. It was some kind of porn flick.  "Oh, my god."  It wasn't a 
porn flick, it wasn't a nightmare.  He really was staying with a 
crazed woman. 

Full of panic, and not thinking about what had happened in the last 
year, not recalling immediately what had actually happened to begin 
with, he ran out of the room. He had to stop at the top of the stairs, 
to get reoriented.  Downstairs, he found the door and ran out, 
forgetting that it was December, and no kind weather to be running 
around in nothing but jogging pants. 

He ran down the street in his bare feet.  The streetlights were 
starting to go dim with the early dawn. Mulder didn't know where he 
was going, just that he had to run. 

Suddenly, his eyes blurred, focused again momentarily and blurred 
again. Blindly, he stumbled forward, grasping for something solid to 
keep his balance.  He found a tree, by tripping over a root, but 
managed to grope his way to the trunk. 

The world spinning, Mulder began to tip over.  Tiny, delicate hands 
caught him before he lost complete consciousness.  A young woman gazed 
at him with concern. 



*****


"Are you alright?"  She asked, pulling him up so he could lean against 
the tree.  "My god, you're white as a sheet, do you think you should 
be jogging?  Without jogging shoes?"  Mulder mumbled something that 
even he couldn't understand.  "Pardon?" 

"Help me," he whispered, legibly this time.  "I need 
to...call...Scully." 

"Okay, but first, I think we should get you inside first.  Where do 
you live?  Oh, never mind, my house is just across the street," she 
continued without waiting for a response from him.  "Don't worry, you 
can lean on me," she said when he tried to support himself. 

Inside, Mulder began to shiver uncontrollably.  The woman brought him 
some tea, and a blanket to cover up with.  "T-thank you, m-miss..." he 
said, through his chattering teeth. 

"Banks.  Josclyn Banks.  Call me Josclyn."

"Fox Mulder."  He sipped his tea, cupping his hands around the warmth. 
"Everyone calls me Mulder."  He said without thinking, or remembering 
that he had gone for an entire year, he had gone by the name of Fox. 

"So, can you tell me why you were out jogging in your bare feet in the 
middle of December?"  Josclyn made casual conversation as she dunked 
his feet in luke warm water.  "Late night with the boys?" 

"No.  Just a nightmare."

"Sleep walking?"  She sat next to him.  "Must have been some 
nightmare." 

"Still is.  Can I use your phone?"  He suddenly changed the subject.  
"I need to call..." he trailed off, beginning to remember some of the 
more horrific memories. 

"Scully?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to call her six months ago."

"Boy is she gonna be pissed," Josclyn giggled, reaching for the phone 
beside her. 

"You don't know the half of it," Mulder grinned, despite his 
situation. He dialed and glanced thankfully after Josclyn as she left 
to give him some privacy. 

"Scully," a tired voice grumbled threateningly. "Ferguson, if you..." 

"It's me Scully."  His announcement was met with a shocked silence. 
"Scully?" 

"Mulder?  Where are you?  What happened?  It's about time you called." 

"I don't know what happened.  I don't remember anything after I saw 
you at the hospital.  I think she must have drugged me or something.  
I can't go into details, but I'm at a neighbor's house now.  I'm not 
even sure how I got here, but that doesn't matter." 

"I'm sorry we couldn't get you out.  You were supposed to give us your 
position, but you never called.  Skinner gave us two months but then 
we had to close it.  I'm sorry Mulder." 

"Come on. It's not your fault.  Just get me out now. Hang on and I'll 
get an address."  He put the phone down.  "Josclyn?"  No response.  
"Josc-" 

Scully heard his voice diminish as he walked away from the phone.  She 
leaned back into her pillow, waiting for him to return.  Moments 
passed, and nothing from the other end.  She hadn't heard the click of 
the disconnection, so assumed he was still talking to someone else. 
"Come on Mulder," she muttered.  A clock chimed six times on the other 
end.  She glanced at her own clock.  It was three o'clock in the 
morning.  Scully scowled into the phone. 

Something was wrong.  Scully pulled back the secure warmth of her 
quilt and was about to call the bureau on her cell phone to run a 
trace on the line, when a soft voice spoke to her. 

"Operator..." 

"This is Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI, who's this?" 

"FBI..?  Scully?  Mulder," her voice became louder, and more aware. 
"They took him.  Two men came in and...oh," a slight movement could be 
heard. "I think they broke my ribs," she groaned.  "Mulder tried to 
fight, but he was too weak.  He'd been out jogging...in less than 
appropriate clothes. Probably mild hypothermia...They hit him on the 
head." 

"Give me your address, I'll be there on the first flight out." 

"Yeah, sure, it's 765..." 





Scully dressed while she tried to dial three numbers at once.  
Stopping only once to carefully dial Ferguson's number, she threw a 
few clothes into her compact traveling suitcase. 

"Yeah, okay, Dana," Ferguson mumbled sleepily when she finally got the 
number right.  "I'll make the reservations and meet you at the 
airport. We really should clear this by Skinner first though." 

"We don't have time.  Besides, I'm not calling him at three in the 
morning.  Do you want to?" 

"I'll leave a voice mail," Ferguson said after a moment's hesitation. 

"At the airport," Scully confirmed before hanging up. 





Mulder woke up on a strange bed, with a splitting headache.  His 
padded restraints had been placed around his wrists and ankles again. 
After a few moments of disbelief and straining against them, he 
collapsed back onto the soft pillow. 

"What were you thinking?"  A strained and tense voice came from the 
shadows.  It was Jenny.  She walked away from the wall where the 
darkness had enveloped her. He could see her ample figure through the 
dim light from the heavily curtained windows.  Dark circles under her 
eyes made for a terrifying sight after just waking up.. "You ran away 
from me. Why did you do that?"  She came ever closer.  Mulder stared 
at her "You hurt me," she sounded like she was crying.  Mulder 
suddenly had a vivid memory of 'Misery'.  Was she going to break his 
ankles?  He tried to move as far away from her as he could. 

She got the bed and collapsed to her knees, throwing herself onto 
Mulder's chest, and began sobbing wholeheartedly.  Mulder was too 
shocked to move. He didn't want to touch her, but her muffled voice 
was terribly pitiable, and he gingerly touched her hair, without being 
too obvious. 

Jenny jerked her head up at that moment, gasping.  Her eyes widened, 
and she clutched her belly like it was going to burst open.  Soft 
shrieking noises came from her clenched mouth, and Mulder realized her 
grinding teeth was making the noises. 

"The baby's coming," she gasped, and promptly turned and began pacing 
back and forth in front of the window.  She breathed deeply, almost 
hyperventilating. 

"Uh..." Mulder wasn't sure what to do.  "Jenny, calm down, okay.  
You're hyperventilating, you'll pass out." She stopped and looked at 
him.  "Take these off and I'll help you."  She shook her head, 
decidedly, and began pacing again.  "Jenny, there's no one else here. 
You have to let me help you." 

"No, I won't let you go Fox, I--oh."  She went down with another 
contraction. 

"Jenny, your contractions are less than five minutes apart, you don't 
have much time.  Let me out and I'll take you to the hospital." 

She looked at him for a moment, deciding whether or not to trust him. 
The contraction passed and she got up and fished the key out of a 
pocket. "You promise,"  she whispered when she got close enough.  "You 
promise not to run away, when I'm in there?" 

"I promise." 

Jenny screamed all the way to the hospital.  Mulder was still a little 
dizzy from the blow to his head, not to mention the broken toe from 
tripping over a tree root in his bare feet, and they had to support 
each other into the emergency room. 

Two nurses hurried over when they fell into a heap inside the door.  A 
doctor came over to investigate, and declared that Jenny had dilated 
the full ten centimeters and needed to get to a delivery room, stat.  
Then, Mulder was helped up into a chair by a short dark haired nurse. 
 She gave him a glass of water, and some scrubs. 

"Uh, wait, there's, some mistake..." 

"Doesn't Daddy want to be there to watch the birth?" She asked in a 
cute voice and pointed to the elevators. "Third floor, west wing," 
then, she walked away.  Sipping water, he limped in the direction she 
pointed.  He had promised not to run away. 

"So, what?"  He asked himself, in the privacy of the elevator.  "Look 
what she's done to you..." he stared at the ceiling and got off at the 
third floor.  He was immediately accosted by a burly looking nurse.  
Nurses were apparently a brutal bunch in this hospital. She 
practically dressed him in the scrubs and shoved him into the delivery 
room.  Jenny screeched his name when she saw him, and it was a badly 
mangled version.  The doctor looked over at him for a moment before 
continuing with his work.  "Come over here a minute Mr. Mulder," he 
said. "You can see the head." 

"No, thanks," he muttered and stood in a corner. 

"You're wife is going to need more encouragement than that, Mr.  
Mulder," the nurse spouted as she stalked past him. 

"She's not..." he began to say, but decided against it. To top off 
everything that'd happened to him, he didn't need lectures from nurses 
with attitudes.  The doctor suddenly gave a shout of triumph. 

"Her she is!"  He held up an upside down sopping child for Mulder.  It 
gasped and tested it's lungs with a weak sound.  A dark mass of wet, 
blood and goo smeared hair stuck out at odd angles.  She looked angry. 
 Then the doctor offered him some scissors, which he took, even as he 
hypnotically stared at the child.  Disgusted, the nurse grabbed him by 
the arm and dragged him over, where she moved the scissors in his 
hands for him. 

Jenny was asleep by the time the doctor handed her the baby.  Mulder 
had to forcibly refuse her from the persistent nurse.  He couldn't 
attach himself to her, that would be disastrous. 

"Doctor," Mulder caught him as he was washing up.  "I need to ask if 
you can run a...paternity test for me." 

"Don't you trust your wife?"  He almost smirked. 

"It's not that, but the circumstances of conception were...a little 
confused." 

"I see.  Well, actually, I don't see, but that's not really important. 
I'll run the test for you." 

"And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell Jenny about it." 

"No problem," he said seriously, shaking Mulder's hand. "I'd say 
congratulations, but it might be a little premature."  Mulder thanked 
him and turned to leave.  Scully entered the emergency room with 
Josclyn when Mulder was driving out of the parking lot to go back to 
Jenny's for James. 


*****


"Where's Fox?"  Jenny almost clawed her way past the nurses, but they 
got the sedative in her before she really got violent.  "Fox...you 
promished..."  Her voice died away as he was just leading James around 
the corner. 

"Look," a nurse pointed to them, just as Jenny groggily lolled her 
head to one side.  "There's Fox, and your son."  Jenny smiled, most 
likely because of the drug than because they stood over her.  She 
touched James' hand, and held it for a moment before drifting off. 

"Would you like to feed little Amy?"  The nurse glided over with a 
pink bulging blanket draped over her shoulder.  "Jenny decided against 
breast feeding, so you can, you know."  James looked up at Mulder, 
expectantly. 

They were attacking him from both sides.  What could he do?  'No!' his 
mind screamed.  "Alright,"  he forced the word out with a pained 
expression.  He accepted the bundle awkwardly, but didn't look 
directly at it. 

Judging the bottle in his hand, he nudged it towards her face, but he 
still didn't look. 

"You're drowning her!"  The nurse screeched, grabbing the bottle from 
him. "Milk goes in the mouth, not the nose," she explained, quickly 
taking her out of his hands, and wiping up the milk.  They waited 
until she had coughed it up and cried normally again. "Men," she 
muttered as she walked away from them. 

"Don't you know how to feed a baby?"  James asked. Mulder didn't 
answer. 





The next day, Jenny and Amy were released from the hospital.  Mulder 
waited at the car, while she was pushed out in a wheelchair.  He 
glanced nervously around, hoping that Scully might be nearby.  He 
banished that thought, however, because he knew she didn't know where 
he was.  He was pretty sure anyway. 

As Jenny approached, he heard James get out of the car to come see 
her. Then, he heard the screeching of the tires, a horn, and James 
yelling out in fear.  Then silence.  He turned around only after the 
car had skidded by, and James was lying in a snow bank, turning it 
red. 

Jenny screamed and then fainted, slumping in the chair, but keeping a 
tight hold on the baby, which added it's own voice to the many that 
hollered and cried in the hospital parking lot. 





"Why?"  Mulder growled at Jenny, as she sadly fed Amy. The child was 
blissfully unaware that anything was wrong, and hardly noticed that 
her parents were fighting. 

"I told you, I don't know.  I didn't do it."  Her voice was empty of 
sorrow or any other emotion. 

"I don't believe you." 

"I don't care.  Here," she handed Mulder Amy.  He had only held her 
once before and that was the disaster feeding three days earlier.  
"I'm going to the store, just down the street.  I won't be long." 

Mulder set Amy down in her bassinet, as soon as he found it.  Mulder 
slumped in the chair next to her.  He could leave now.  Just take the 
baby...wait, that was a mistake, even if he was certain he was her 
father. So, he couldn't leave...what then?  He shook his head, trying 
to jar the answer out, when the doorbell rang.  He thought it was 
Jenny, forgotten her keys or something. Numbly he opened the door. 

"Mulder!  Finally.  What's wrong?"  Scully stood at the door, and her 
happiness was soon drowned in his sorrow. His face dragged her down. 
"What happened?"

"Scully..." he swallowed.  "I don't know what to do." He crumpled 
then, and Scully was there to hold him up. Giving Ferguson a 
predetermined, subtle, hand gesture, she helped him into the house. 





"Mulder, what are you doing?  We have to leave now. There's nothing 
you can do for the boy.  It was an accident.  Not your fault."  Scully 
couldn't believe he was doing this.  He was actually sulking.  At 
least that was the way it looked to her.  He sat on the couch, and 
stared straight ahead, straight past her.

"Scully, I can't."  Mulder said in a tense but calm voice.  He knew he 
couldn't leave.  Not under the circumstances. 

"Mulder..." She tried again to reason with him, trying to read him.  
He was being forced in some way.

"You don't understand!"  He whirled around to face her, pain and anger 
settled down in his face, for some time, it seemed. 

"Then why don't you explain it to me!"  Scully matched his anger with 
her own.  This wasn't like Mulder at all. Or maybe it was.  As usual, 
she was annoyed at him for withholding information from her.

"That is my daughter, Scully."  He gestured to the bassinet.  "I can't 
leave her here."  He shuddered visibly and backed away from Scully 
when she stepped toward him after the mandatory second of shock.  He 
shrugged off her hand from his shoulder.  "And it IS my fault that 
James died." 

"It was an accident.  Forensics said..." 

"It doesn't matter what forensics said, Scully.  Don't you understand? 
He trusted me, and what did I do?  I got him killed. You know how that 
makes me feel?"  He sat down on the edge of the sofa, losing the 
momentum of his anger.

"Yes, I do."  Scully sat down next to him.  "I know exactly how you 
feel, or how you think you should feel." She waited for a reaction.  
Not getting a satisfactory response, she continued.  "Mulder, it's not 
a big step to arrest Jenny, and then we can both get you out of here. 
 Why are you punishing yourself?  None of this is your fault." It 
didn't appear to be sinking in.  "Or is it just easier to sit here and 
feel sorry for yourself?" This got a reaction.  He looked up at her 
sharply.  He looked like he was about to argue, but instead he blinded 
his eyes with his left hand, and rubbed his temple slowly.  Scully 
grabbed his arm and pulled it away.  "Mulder..." she paused, noticing 
the scar marks on his skin around his wrist.  "What's this?"  She 
pushed his sleeve up further away to examine the marks.  "They looks 
like rope burns. God, were you tied up?" 

Mulder jerked his hand away from Scully, and stood up to move away 
from her.  "Scully, go away." 

"No, I'm not going anywhere, until you listen to reason. You are an 
agent for the federal government.  You have responsibilities, you have 
a life..."

"Do I?  What exactly is my life then, Scully?  I spend most of my time 
running after 'strange phenomenon'.  The rest of the time, I spend 
looking for my sister who has been missing for more than twenty years. 
 What kind of life is that?" 

"A damn good one, Mulder."  Ferguson stood in the doorway.  "One with 
purpose."  Scully looked at him. "We got Jenny.  She tried to run, 
but..." He shrugged, and walked away, leaving the two there to work 
out whatever differences they had.

Mulder cried into Scully's shoulder for a very long time. 




*****

"Agent Mulder," Skinner glanced up only when he heard the man sit 
down. The figure before him was anything but what he had expected.  
Mulder's face was drawn and pale.  His usual look of near defiance was 
dulled and practically non-existent.  The man was skin and bones. 

"Sir?"  His voice, now unusually soft and uncertain, startled Skinner, 
and he realized he was staring at him. 

"I see you've decided to come back to work instead of taking the 
extended leave of absence, as your doctor, your psychologist, and I 
have strongly suggested." 

"Yes, sir.  I believe-" 

"I don't think you're in a condition to believe anything."  Mulder 
didn't say anything, so Skinner continued.  "You have been through an 
incredibly traumatic experience.  A week away from work won't help 
speed your recovery." 

"Sir, after her abduction, Scully returned under two weeks after she 
was released from the hospital.  I didn't suffer any physical 
injury..." 

"Mulder," Skinner's voice changed, like he was now speaking to an 
equal, rather than one of his employees. "Besides the fact that this 
has nothing to do with Agent Scully, she didn't bring back extra 
responsibilities." 

Mulder lowered his head to hide the fierce blush. 

"Go home.  Spend time with your daughter.  You'll appreciate it 
later." He seemed to speak with the wisdom of experience.  Mulder 
wondered, silently as he left the office, if he had any kids whose 
childhood he had missed. 

****Agent Scully voiceover****

Case # X65-43J23I
December 13, 1997

...Finally, Agent Fox Mulder has been found, and his abductor, Angella 
Westan, aka, Jenny M., aka Nina R., aka Penelope F. was shot and 
killed in an attempt to detain her.  Her accomplices in this crime 
have not been identified, however, Agent Mulder testifies that they 
were part of a 'vampire' cult he had investigated last year.  Angella 
Westan's house was searched and a large stock of an unidentified drug, 
that has been since tested extensively, and found to be a coma-like 
sleep inducing tranquilizer.  According to the tests, this was the 
drug used in the original abduction, as well as the continued 
confinement of Agent Mulder. Residual traces have been found in Agent 
Mulder's blood.  No known long term effects have been predicted.  
However, his short term memory has been notably effected, and is 
expected to recover no less than 50% of his memories. 

Addendum:  To complete this file, it must be stated that at one point 
during his abscence, Agent Mulder acquired legal custody of Jenny M's 
child.  As no living relative of could be found, he was granted 
complete custody of the child, though he refuses to explain why. 



The End.
And I welcome any and all comments.


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        D. L. Powers  |  "For God's sake madam, help me.  Even your
           -=-=-      |    passive support would be appreciated."
        R1YS@unb.ca   |                            --Petronius
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