by Shell Brown, tombrown@tiac.net,
Copyright 1997
 

SPOILERS:  Demons,
CLASSIFICATION:  T,A
RATING:  PG-13 for language.
KEYWORDS:  Mulderangst,
SUMMARY:  A follow up to "Demons."  Mulder
is kidnapped by Cancerman after exhibiting
some very unusual behavior.  Mulder thinks
he is four years old!  Mostly Mulderangst
and Muldertorture.
 

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and Characters of
Mulder, Scully, Cancerman, and Skinner,
belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions and Fox Broadcasting. No
copyright infringement intended.
 

FEEDBACK:  I would appreciate your
feedback, especially anything
constructive.  I promise to respond to
you.  Flames shall be ignored.  Send
feedback to me at tombrown@tiac.net
 

THANK YOU:  Many thanks to my Copy Editor,
Debbie Goldstein.  You took me to task and
challenged me to become a better writer.
For this I thank you profoundly.

Part 1

April 18
FBI Headquarters
Basement
3:30 PM

Mulder sat down into his desk chair with
an "Oomph!"  There was a pile of paper
work to do and another stack of files to
review.  After cleaning the lenses with
the bottom of his blue Polo shirt, he put
on his glasses and grabbed the first form.

#302  REQUEST FOR TRAVEL

He sighed.  He shouldn't even be in the
office.  He should probably still be in
the hospital.

Scully had dropped him off at his
apartment only a few hours earlier.  She
was still angry at him for seeing Dr.
Goldstein and undergoing treatment with
him twice.  But, the seizures had stopped
and except for an off and on headache,
there wasn't much for him to do in the
hospital.  They liked to keep him hooked
up to EEG and ECG machines and schedule
CAT scans and blood work and he had
just_had_enough!  Scully wanted him to
stay for one more night but he couldn't do
it, not even to please her.  He wanted to
go home and be alone.

The problem was that once he was alone he
found it intolerable.  The memories that
surfaced during the times he seized were
still fresh in his memory and they made
him feel anxious, angry, annoyed.  He knew
he couldn't sit still and the doctor's
orders were no running or strenuous
exercise until he was re-evaluated in a
few days.  Scully had taken his service
weapon as well as his personal weapon.  He
wasn't to be trusted with a gun right now.
Not after he had been prepared to use it
to kill himself and then Scully.  As
usual, he couldn't blame anyone but
himself.

Jeez, the last week was a nightmare.  He
shook his head and refocused on the form
in front of him.  Well, if he couldn't
run, maybe he could work this frustration
out of his system.  He scouted around for
a pen.  Scully was always stealing his
pens.  He gave up and went over to her
"area."  Oh, yeah, score!  Plenty of
writing instruments here.  He grabbed a
black pen and headed for his desk, when
the fluorescent light went out over head.

"Oh, great!" he murmured.

He reached up and tapped the side of it to
get it going again.  How many times had he
and Scully asked the janitor to come fix
this damn thing?  I suppose when you work
in the basement your not top priority.
Ah, the light came back on.  He shook his
head and walked back to his desk when the
stupid light started to flicker.  He took
off his glasses and stared at it, when
suddenly . . .

Pain!  A hot searing pain in his head.
Oh, god it hurt so bad!  Oh, god . .
.can't breathe it hurts!    Lights
flashing in his head now.  Red-pain,
black-relief, red-pain and then the
memories came again.

They were at the summer house at
Quonochotaug.  He and Samantha liked it
because of the loft that served as their
bedroom.  You could see the whole house
from the loft.  The best part was the
ladder to get to the loft, it was fun
climbing up and down and chasing Samantha
around.  But, there was arguing . . .
yelling.  He looked around and saw himself
staring wide eyed towards the first floor.
The kid was so scared.  Mulder wanted to
reach out to him but he couldn't.

"Fox, I'm afraid," said Samantha.  She was
in her nightgown staring down as mom and
dad fought.  Mom was screaming something
about "She's my baby!"  What did she mean?

He looked toward the other end of the
house and saw a figure in the shadows.
This man had been to the house before, but
not for a long time.  Fox remembered
watching him water ski with dad driving
the boat.  He smiled, remembering his
mother's laughter as she watched the water
splash around, and how the man never
seemed to fall.  She would clap his hands
in hers every time he came close to the
shore.  "Yeah!"  They would yell.  That
was a long time ago, like 8 or 9 years
ago.  Why was he here now?

"Fox!"  He heard Samantha's pleading voice
call him again.

Oh, the damn pain in his head!  He closed
his eyes and concentrated on trying to
breathe.

He slowly opened his eyes.  Where was he?
He didn't know this place.  Where was his
dad?  He got up off the floor and climbed
into the big chair.  His head hurt and his
stomach didn't feel too good.  He saw the
phone and picked it up dialing "O" for
operator.  His mom had taught him that in
case there was a fire or an emergency.

"FBI Headquarters, this is the operator."

What did that lady say?  FBI?  But dad
works for the state department.  He
squeezed his eyes shut, his head hurt so
bad.

"I need to find my dad," he told the
operator, his lower lip quivering.

"Ah, excuse me?" the operator replied.

"I'm lost and I need to find my dad.  I
don't feel too good can you get my dad,
please?  Please!"
 

Linda, the operator, saw the call was
coming from Fox Mulder's office.  "Agent
Mulder is this you?" she asked.

"No, I'm Fox, his son.  Please find daddy,
I'm sick."  Linda heard the small scared
voice.  It was a Saturday, who could she
call to get him?

"Hold on Fox, I'm going to try a number,
you just hold on okay?"

She thought she heard a whimper, "'kay,"
the little voice said.

She decided to try A.D. Skinner's number.
Maybe he would be there.  What good luck!
Someone picked up!

"Yes."

"Hello, A.D. Skinner?  This is the
operator calling.  I have Fox Mulder on
another line on hold.  He's in his office
and he sounds, well, strange.  He's asking
for his father, sir.  I'm not sure what to
do," Linda explained.
 

"I'll take care of it.  Thank you for your
concern."  As Cancerman replaced the
receiver onto the cradle he picked up his
pack of cigarettes and took the last one,
lit it and inhaled deeply.

"Mulder is looking for his father is he?
Well, I'll do my best to accommodate him."
He smiled before drawing in another drag
of the acrid smoke.

End Part 1

Part 2

4:15 PM

"He's on his way, so you can relax now,"
the operator said soothingly.

"Well, okay.  He's coming right now?
Right?"

"Yes, he is, so we're going to hang up
now," she told Agent Mulder.

"I'll wait for him then."  An
afterthought, (he was taught to be polite)
made him add, "Thank you nice lady."  He
hung up the phone.
 

The door opened.

"Dad!" Fox yelped.  "Dad, can we go home?
I don't feel so good."

"Why, what's wrong Fox?" the man asked.

Fox looked at the man standing before him.
"You're not my dad.  Where's my dad?  The
lady said my dad was coming!"  His eyes
filled with tears. "I *need* my dad."

"How old are you now, Fox?" the Cancerman
played a hunch.

Fox held up four fingers, "I'm . . . f . .
.four."

"My," he said, smiling, "aren't you a big
boy."

Fox nodded as his bottom lip began to
quiver.

"You remember me, don't you Fox from your
summer home.  The house near the lake."

"You ski on the water real good.  My mom
says you're better than dad, but," he
paused, "that's a secret," he whispered.

Cancerman smiled.  What an intriguing
predicament this was.  Surely, he could
use it to his advantage.

"I know where your dad is, he went to my
office to get some papers.  I'll call him
and let him know you're ready to go home.
How about that?"  He put as much sugar in
his voice as possible.

Wiping his nose on his sleeve Fox said,
"Okay."

Cancerman picked up the phone and dialed
one of his operatives.  "Yes," answered
the voice on the other line.

"Bill, it's me.  Yes, yes I'm fine.  I
have a surprise for you."

"How can I help you sir?" asked the
operative.

"Well, I have your boy with me.  Fox is
here in the basement office.  But he's not
feeling very well and he's ready to go
home.  He seems a little confused.  Maybe
it's that flu that's going around."

"I'm on my way.  Is there anything else?"

"Yes, good of you to ask.  I think maybe
something to settle his stomach, something
to calm him down would be in order."

"Understood, sir."

"That's wonderful Bill.  I'll be seeing
you shortly then.  Oh, yes, little Fox is
just fine.  Bye now," he put the dead
phone on the cradle.

Fox looked around the room.  He turned
into the chair so he could kneel on the
seat and look behind him.

"Oh, cool!" Fox said, and pushed the chair
with his leg to get closer to the pictures
on the wall.  "Wow!  Hey, umm, I forgot
your name," he said shyly.

"Oh, that's all right, you're just a
little boy Fox.  You can call me Mr.
Cole," short for Colquitt, his protagonist
in the mystery stories he loved to write
but had never published.  He smiled to
himself, yes, that's a nice touch.

"Okay.  Mr. Cole, did you see this cool
picture?  It's a flying saucer just like
Lost-in-Space on T.V., they have a robot!"
He giggled,  "But I like Marvin the
Martian better, he's on T.V., too."  He
turned around, "Do you watch Saturday car-toooons?"

Forcing a small smile, "Why I think I
missed that one, son."

Fox turned back to the pictures. "Oh,
Well, Marvin is from Mars but Daffy Duck
and Bugs Bunny have gone to his planet."
He spun back around to Mr. Cole explaining, "but they flew in a *rocket*
not a flying saucer."

"I see.  Isn't that interesting," he said.
Where the hell were his men.  He was
beginning to tire of this drivel.  "How is
your mother, young man?"

"Fat," Fox replied.  "But it's okay
because she's eating a lot so she can make
a baby."

"Really," he said, smiling.  Yes,
Samantha.  What a special girl, he
thought.  He checked his pockets and found
a new pack of smokes.  He fished one out
and lit up.

"My dad smokes too you know, " Fox looked
mischievously to each side, "but I think
it's kinda stinky.  Oh, sorry Mr. Cole."

"That's okay Fox, grown ups do things that
their children may not like, but that's
just the way it is."

"Yeah, I guess."  Turning around and sat
in the big chair.  The light above began
to flicker.  His face tipped towards the
broken light.

"Ow!" he screamed.

Cancerman watched without emotion as Fox
Mulder fell to the floor and began
convulsing.  He must still be feeling the
affects of that ridiculous treatment he
sought in Rhode Island.  The old man had
read all the reports from Agent Scully,
the psychologist's records and of course
he had all the data from the hospital
where Mulder had been admitted.  What a
fool.

"Sir?" came a voice from the door.

"Thompson, Matthews, it's about time you
got here.  Did you have a problem with the
access cards I gave you?"

"No, sir.  What's going on?"

Cancerman sighed and waved his cigarette
in the air, saying, "Oh, Mulder's having a
seizure.  But something very interesting
has just happened.  Before he started this
nonsense, he thought he was four years
old."

The operatives looked at one another.

"I assume you've come prepared?" he asked
them.

"Of course sir," spoke Matthews, producing
a physician's bag.

"Go to it then," Cancerman ordered.

Fox had stopped convulsing.  He was on the
floor by his desk.  Oh no, another
seizure.  He needed Scully.  He took a
deep breath and started to get up when he
felt two strong hands force him back on
the floor.  "What the hell are you doing?"
Mulder opened his eyes slightly, the light
hurt his head.  "Who are you?" he yelled.

"Not to worry, Agent Mulder, I'll take
good care of you," the voice of Cancerman.

Mulder's eyes flew open, damn the light,
it hurt his eyes.  "What are you doing
here?  What do you want this time you
black lung son . . . " he said.  He felt a
pair of hands force his head down onto the
floor.

Matthews took out the Morphine filled
syringe.

Mulder saw Matthews. He made an attempt to
get away. He watched Mulder as he kicked
his legs out in an attempt to throw his
operatives off balance.  Thompson finally
sat on his chest, cutting off his breath
and any will to fight.  Matthews gave
Mulder the injection.  Lewis got off of
Mulder's chest and he listened to Mulder
coughing, trying to fill his lungs with
air.

"How about a nice nap, young man," he
said, watching Mulder's body go limp.

End Part 2

Part 3

Alexandria, VA
Mulder's Apartment
5:45 PM

Dana Scully checked her hair in the
lighted mirror on the car visor and
pulled a straying strand back behind one
ear.

Her eyes found themselves in the
mirror.  She scolded herself.  "What *am*
I *doing*?, she asked.

She shook her head and shoulders, trying
to relax, and reached over to the large
bag of Thai food.  She had considered
paying someone to deliver the fragrant
meal to Mulder's apartment, but decided to
deliver it herself.  Someone had to check
on him. She got out of the car and walked
into his building.

As she approached his apartment she tried
to convince herself she really wasn't
*that* angry at Mulder.  Unfortunately,
she wasn't too convincing.  What had made
him undergo that absurd treatment from
Goldstein!  Mulder was above that.  He
knew too much to buy into that snake oil
treatment!  Lost in thought, she had been
standing in front of his door for several
minutes before she began to knock.

She called out, "Mulder, it's me.  Are
you awake?"  She knocked again and shifted
the bag of  food.

"Hmmm," she muttered to herself.  He could
be sleeping.  Actually, he should be
sleeping.  She brought out her key to his
apartment and opened the door as quietly
as possible.

There were no lights on in the cozy
apartment.  She flicked on the overhead
light.  "Mulder?" she said, looking in the
direction of the kitchen.  Nothing.

Time for the ultimate Mulder-test.  She
walked over to the T.V. and felt the top.
It was cold. Well, it's not totally
inconceivable he's in the bedroom.  She
put the food down on the coffee table and
walked toward the bedroom.  "Mulder, it's
me.  Are you awake?" she called, turning
on the light.

No one here but the dust bunnies.

"Shit," she said, kicking his door.  Where
did he go?  She shook her head.  What made
her think he would do what he was told and
actually stay home and rest as the doctors
ordered?  She was sick of being ditched.
She was sick of needing to chase him down
all the time.  She was sick of worrying
about him.

"Fine!  Whatever!"  she announced, to the
room.

She turned and walked toward the phone,
picked it up and dialed the office, and let it
ring 8 times.  If he's there he's not picking up.
She tried his cell phone.  No answer there either.
Now what?

She felt tired.  The last few weeks had
been difficult and she really wanted a
break.  Shaking her head, she knew what
she had to do.  But she didn't like it and
she didn't appreciate having to run around
town to find him.  She did her best to put
her temper in check and began her search
to find him.

End Part 3

Part 4

U.S. Route 395
5:45 PM

He took another drag of his cigarette and
picked up the phone in the limousine.
After hitting the speed dial button, he
looked over at Mulder's sleeping form.

"Yes," the voice answered.

"Is everything ready?" he asked, while
expelling the smoke.

"We have followed your instructions
completely, sir."

"Good.  I expect nothing less.  We'll be
arriving in an hour or so.  Make sure
you're available for our arrival."

"Yes, sir."

He hit the =end= button.

"How long will he stay out?" he asked
Matthews.

Matthews nudged the sleeping body next to
him.  "He should be out for another 30
minutes possibly an hour," he stated.
"I'll stand by for another injection when
you order it, sir."

"That's very good, Matthews, very good,"
Cancerman responded.  He put out a
cigarette and reached for his pack for
another one.

They had been on the road for another 40
minutes when Mulder began to stir.
 

Mulder knew he was moving but something
wasn't right.  He blinked his eyes hard
and tried to open them.  He was riding
backwards!  He cleared his throat and
attempted to take a deep breath.  That
brought an immediate feeling of being
suffocated by the caustic smoke he'd just
inhaled.

He began to cough violently as he raised
himself to a sitting position on the seat.
Oh, man he was dizzy.  He brought his
hands up to his eyes and rubbed them.
"What am I doing here?" he asked, quietly.

"Something very interesting happened
today, Agent Mulder.  Shall I tell you
about it?" said Cancerman.

Mulder sat up straight, folded his hands
in his lap, and stated, "There is nothing
you can say that would possibly interest
me."

The older man blew a big puff of smoke in
his face.

Mulder grimaced and moved his head before
he began coughing.  That bastard.

Mulder looked out the window and saw they
were about to enter an underpass but he
didn't know where . . . "No!" he said,
forcing his eyes closed.  The pain in his
head felt worse; god who could believe it
could get worse.  The lights.  It was the
lights from the tunnel as the car passed
them one by one.

Mulder saw the flash of red and heard the
sound of muffled voices.

"Fox, I'm afraid."

Samantha was scared.  He looked over and
saw her knees drawn up under her night
gown.  What was that noise?

He peered over the edge of the loft and
watched his parents arguing again.
Someone else was there.

"You're a little spy," the man said.

"Ow!" he yelled, the pain searing through
his eyes and ears.

He was remembering again.
 

As Mulder began to seize, Matthews took
hold of his arms and held him as still as
possible. He was strong.  Matthews may
have underestimated him, he thought,
watching the scene in mild amusement.

Matthews slowly released his hold on
Mulder when the convulsions turned to
small twitches.  He reached underneath the
seat and slyly brought out the medical
bag.

"Not just yet, let's see who we
have here," he said, with a hint
of a smile.

Matthews picked up the bag sand tucked in
along side of him.  Probably a good idea.
No need to be caught unprepared should a
situation arise, he thought, filling the
car with smoke.  Matthews shoved Mulder to
the other side of the luxurious bench.

Good they had exited the underpass.  "How
are you feeling young man?"

Mulder put his arm over his eyes.  "Mr.
Cole?  Are we almost home?  Dad?  Where's
my dad?"

"Yes, we're almost there, Fox.  We're
meeting your dad back at the house,
remember?" he said, fishing for another
cigarette.

"I thought dad was coming to get me," a
young voice replied.  "I don't feel too
good.  My head hurts and my stomach hurts
and,"--big breath--"I don't want be here
anymore.  I want to go home.  Please, Mr.
Cole, can we go home?"

"We're on the way to your house now, Fox."
Cancerman answered.  "We'll be there in a
few minutes.  Surely, you can wait just a
few more minutes?"

Fox brought his arm down and sat up
straight.  He blinked hard and looked
around, "Are we in your car, Mr.
Cole?"

"Why, yes we are Fox.  You remember my big
car don't you?"

He shook his head, "No, I don't remember
your car.  You water-ski good and when you
come close to the shore you wave.  Me and
momma say 'yeah!' I remember that," he
said, trying to take in a deep breath.
"Can I have something to drink?"

Cancerman nodded to Matthews.

Matthews reached into the limousines'
built in refrigerator and pulled out a
small orange juice bottle.

Fox squinted at the man next to him.  "I
don't know you!" he said, and scrambled
towards the far end of the bench seat.

"Why, Fox, this man is one of my
employees.  Don't worry young man.  Dr.
Matthews is a nice man," he assured the
boy.

Matthews looked at the man who had changed
before his eyes into a boy.  "Would you
like some orange juice Fox?" he asked.
"There's plenty in the refrigerator," he
held out the juice bottle.

Fox looked over to Mr. Cole.

"Go ahead Fox, help yourself.  We have
plenty to share here," he said.  Grinning,
he stubbed out his cigarette in the over
flowing ashtray.

Fox accepted the juice, but didn't meet
the gaze of Dr. Matthews.  Looking at the
bottle, he bit his lower lip.  He needed
help to open it.

"Here, I'll open that," offered Matthews.

"Okay," Fox handed it back to him and
watched him flip the top off.  "Wow!
Neat!" he remarked, and drank down half of
the juice eagerly.

The child felt cold.  Bringing his knees
to his chest, and putting his feet on the
seat, he wrapped his arms around his legs,
trying to get warm.  Cars and buildings
were passing by and nothing seemed
familiar.  "Where's the park, Mr. Cole?"
he whimpered.  "I can't find the big house
on the hill.  Are we lost?"

"We're just taking the scenic route, Fox,"
Cancerman replied.

He gazed out the window, looking at the
trees.  "It's almost dark, Mr. Cole." "I'm
not allowed to be out after dark.  My dad
is gonna be real mad at me."  The child
squirmed, "I hate it when daddy gets mad."

Taking charge Cancerman said, "Well, let's
take care of that."  To the amazement of
the child, he picked up a phone and hit a
few buttons.  "Bill.  Yes, I'm here with
Fox we're almost there.  He's concerned
about being out after dark.  It's okay as
long as he is with me.  Isn't that right
Bill?"

". . . if you're taking the expressway
press 3 now, if you're on Route 495 press
4 now, if you're . . . " the automated
voice on the end of the line continued to
drone on and on.

"That's what I thought.  We should be
there in a few minutes.  Oh, he's behaving
wonderfully.  All right then.  Good bye,"
he said.

"So, he's not mad?" the boy asked shyly.

"No, Fox, not at all.  How's your
headache, by the way?" he lit a fresh
cigarette.

"My head hurts real bad," he complained.
"But I promise I won't throw up in your
nice car, Mr. Cole, I promise."  He used
his free hand to rub his eyes.  They
burned from the smoke.  "I wish I had one
of my Paddington the Bear books, Mr.
Cole," he admitted.  "Sometimes, when I'm
too tired to read, I like to just hold
them.  Do you know Paddington?  He's a
bear who gets lost, kinda like me.
Paddington is nice but he likes orange
marmalade.  Yuck."  He made a face.  "Do
you have any books here?"

"Sorry, Fox, I'm afraid I don't."

Fox shrugged, "That's okay."

Cancerman gave a nod to Matthews and
accepted the small Halcion pill Matthews
handed to him.

"This will help your headache," he said.

Fox looked up.  "I'm not allowed to take
things from . . . "

"Oh, Fox, please don't call me a stranger.
You can trust me, can't you, young man?"
he asked leaning forward and extending his
palm closer to the boy.

Fox's eyes wandered all around the car and
then shrugged, picking up the little pill.
He popped it in his mouth and began to
chew.  "Yuck!" he said, his face souring.

"Drink your juice.  That's a good boy,"
said the old man.

Fox finished his juice and handed the
empty bottle to Mr. Cole.  He didn't know
the other guy.  "Here, I'm done."

"Oh, what a good boy you are," he said,
through pursed lips and nodded to Matthews
to take the bottle for him.

Fox turned and knelt on the over-stuffed
bench.  Sitting back on his heels, he
looked out the window.  "I don't know this
place.  How far away are we?"

"Oh, not far at all."

"Okay.  Can we go to McDonalds, Mr. Cole?"
the child asked, "I'm hungry."

"I think we can manage that.  You did miss
your dinner, didn't you?"

"I don't know.  I'm just hungry," he said,
leaning his head against the glass.  In a
short amount of time, the car had lulled
him to sleep.

End Part 4

Part 5

FBI Headquarters
Basement
6:30 PM

She knew something was wrong the moment
she opened the door to the office and
smelled that horrible, revolting cigarette
smoke.

Turning on the lights, she saw the burned-
out cigarettes scattered on the floor.
Disgusting, she thought.

Well, he wasn't in the office.  She picked
up the phone and dialed his cell number
again.

"Dedededede"

What?

"Dedededede"

Turning around, she saw Mulder's black
leather jacket on the coat rack.  His
phone was ringing from the pocket.  She
went to the coat, took it out, and turned
it off.  Where would he go without his
coat and cell phone?

Glancing around the office, she saw papers
under the desk.  Mulder's filing technique
needed some work.  Kneeling down to
retrieve the papers, she noticed a small
blue cylinder.  Grabbing it, she sat up,
scrutinizing the plastic in her palm.

"Oh, my God!" she exclaimed.

The office phone rang and she picked it up
immediately.  "Mulder?" she said
hopefully.

"No, this is the operator.  I'm about to
finish my shift and wanted to make
sure everything is okay," the voice said
pleasantly.

"What do you mean?  Why are you calling
here?" asked Scully impatiently.

"Well, I got that strange call from Agent
Mulder earlier," the operator said
nervously, "and I called A.D. Skinner at
his office and he said he was going to
Agent Mulder's office to help him."

Scully's thoughts were racing.  She
informed the operator, "I don't know what
you're talking about.  Look, I need to
know what happened here.  What's your
name?"

"Linda.  I work the PBX board on the
weekends," she said.  Scully heard the
tremble in her voice.

"Linda, tell me what happened."

Scully listened to the operator's story
and thanked her.  The agent added that she
might be receiving a call from either
herself or Skinner later if they had any
more questions.

"I understand Agent Scully.  I'll be home
all evening," she said.

"Thanks, Linda."  Scully hung up the phone
and dialed Skinner's home number quickly.

"Skinner."

"Sir, it's Agent Scully, I think we have a
problem."

End Part 5

Part 6

North Springfield, VA
Abandoned School
7:00 PM

The small room was perfect.  There was a
red-railed youth bed, a slender standing
reading lamp, some childrens toys and
books in a basket opposite the bed.  The
overhead light was actually a strobe
light.  There was a control panel outside
the room that could cause the flashes to
increase or decrease.  Mulder's seizures
and subsequent change in age was always
precipitated by flashing lights: the light
in the office, the lights in the tunnel.
Something less subtle may have worked, but
the old man wanted to be sure.

"Bring him in," he announced.

Matthews and Thompson dragged Mulder into
the room and threw him on the bed.

"The Halcion tablet should keep him out
longer than the injection.  Do you want to
set a schedule, sir?" asked Matthews.

"Let him sleep throughout the night," he
said, exhaling a long stream of smoke.
"I'll decide tomorrow what I want to do
with him."  He found himself smiling:  a
true enthusiastic grin.  Tomorrow should
prove to be an interesting day.

FBI Headquarters
Basement
7:30 PM

"So what exactly have we got here Agent
Scully?" asked the handsome fortyish man
wearing a melon-colored shirt.

Scully controlled the panic she felt
rising inside her.  "Earlier this evening,
I went to Agent Mulder's house to bring
him dinner," she said.  "However, he
wasn't at his apartment."

Skinner nodded, "So you decided
to check for him at the office?"

"Yes sir," she replied.  "I found his car
in the parking garage and came here hoping
to find him at work."

"Stop right there Agent Scully."  Skinner
looked at her directly.  "Would you
care to explain to me why Agent Mulder is
not in a hospital at this time?"

Dropping her head, Scully gazed at the
cluttered desk top.  She should have
trusted her gut instinct and left Mulder
in the hospital for one more night.  It
was infuriating that he could manipulate
her to get what he wanted.  "You know
Agent Mulder and hospitals, sir.  He was
released, albeit reluctantly, by his
doctor earlier today."

"I see," said Skinner, kicking a discarded
cigarette butt across the floor.  "You
decided to check for him at the office
when you noticed that a certain someone
made a visit here."

"Yes, sir," she answered.  Pointing to the
coat stand, she explained, "His coat and
cell phone are still here and I also found
this."  She opened her hand to reveal a
slim blue plastic cylinder about 2 inches
in length.

"This looks like a cap to a hypodermic
needle," he remarked.

Frowning, she said, "I agree sir and
there's more.  According to the operator,
Mulder called her at approximately 3:30
PM and asked for his father."

"Did I hear you right, Agent Scully?
Mulder was asking for his father?"

Scully nodded.  "Linda, the
operator, said Mulder sounded distressed.
Unsure what to do, she called your office
and a man answered the phone."  She took a
breath and continued, "She assumed it was
you, sir."

"But it wasn't me."  Skinner furrowed his
brow.  "I didn't come into the
office at all this weekend."

"I understand that, sir," Scully said.
"Whoever answered your phone said he would
take care of Agent Mulder . . . "  She
heard her voice falter slightly.  "I
realize this man was not you.

That's why I called you," she continued.
"I believe that Agent Mulder was drugged
and taken against his will from this
office.  And I think we both know who did
it."

Skinner squinted.  "But why?  What motive
would he have?"

Scully felt her face flush.  Mulder was
missing and probably in danger and she was
*still* angry.  Taking a deep breath, she
shook her head and neck, trying to shake
off the anger physically.  "I believe sir,
that it has something to do with the
treatment Agent Mulder had received in
Rhode Island.  It's possible that he
continued to regain what he states are
childhood memories."

Skinner shook his head, saying, "So . . ."

The overhead light began to flicker.
Scully automatically grabbed a rolled up
piece of newspaper, walked under the
light, jumped and swatted the blinking
light.  Of course! she thought to herself.
How did she overlook this?  "Sir!"  She
announced, "I think I might know what is
going on."

Skinner looked at the floor, grinning and
trying not to laugh.  He didn't want
Scully to see how amused he was by the
whole light trick scenario.  He wondered
how long the two agents had been taking
turns swatting the thing to keep it going.
After composing himself, he asked, "What
do you have Agent Scully?"

She explained, "The flickering light.  It
can trigger a seizure.  I can't believe I
didn't think of this before!"  Mulder
should never have come into this office
before this stupid light was fixed, she
thought angrily.

"I'm not following you here," Skinner
admitted.

"Seizures can be triggered by a number of
different factors including flickering
lights.  Some people with epilepsy can't
play video games or take subway rides
because of the way the lights flash."  She
looked at her superior.  "I believe, sir,
Mulder had another seizure while Cancerman
was present."  She walked to her chair and
sat down while considering her next
thought.  "Cancerman may have thought he
could use Agent Mulder's condition to his
own sick advantage."

Skinner's eyes opened wide.  "How's that?"
he asked.

Scully met his gaze.  "Agent Mulder
feels that the man we refer to as
Cancerman was somehow involved with his
family as well as his sister's abduction."

"Really," Skinner remarked.  "He knew the
Mulder family perhaps 30 years ago?"  He
crossed his arms and leaned back
against the table.

"I don't know that as a fact, sir," Scully
admitted.  "This particular memory is a
direct result of the treatment Mulder
received in Rhode Island.  The drugs that
the psychologist used produces visual
hallucinations.  I couldn't say which
memories are the truth and which memories
are inventions of a compromised mind."

Skinner considered what Agent Scully had
just told him.  "What does Mulder
believe?"

Scully straightened.  "That's what
we all would like to know, sir."
 

End Part 6

Part 7

WARNING:  This section contains graphic
language and graphic violence.

April 19
North Springfield, VA
Abandoned School
2:30 AM

Mulder woke from the nightmare in a sweat.
Pulling off his shirt, he wondered why it
was so hot in here.  Wait a minute.  He
looked around the room.  Where was here?
There was a reading lamp on, but it
provided poor light.  Standing up slowly,
Mulder attempted to ignore the dizziness
he was feeling.  He took a few steps over
to the basket and kicked it lightly.  A
teddy bear fell out.

"What the hell is this?" he said.
He looked at the rest of the contents:
coloring books, crayons, a toy truck,
plastic blocks, different childrens
books, more stuffed animals.  "Am I being
help captive in Romper Room?" he said.

There was a table with a McDonalds' bag on
it, and his stomach grumbled.  How
long has it been since I've eaten?  He
grabbed the burger and ate it eagerly.
What happened?  Where is this place and
why am I here?  Okay, I was working at the
office and then . . . Oh no!  Not again.
Damn it! I must have had another seizure,
he thought angrily.  When I was released
from the hospital, I was told I was fine!
I need to calm down and clear my head.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep
breath and let it out slowly.  He did this
two more times before opening his eyes.
Spotting a drink on the table, he grabbed
it, slurping down the warm coke.

There was a heavy metal door, painted
beige.  "What the hell," he said and
walked over to it.  Tugging on the
door knob, he found it was locked.
Why am I not surprised, he thought.
Mulder pounded on it.  "Hey!  I'd like to
use the little boys room please," he
yelled.  The dizziness had come back.
Turning his back to the door, he used it
to prop himself upright.  He saw a small
disk in the ceiling.  I can assume I'm
being watched, he thought.  Shaking his
head, he tried to get a clue as to why he
was in this place.

He heard a noise at the door and hid
behind it as it slowly opened.

"Just come out quietly," a brusque voice
ordered.

What was he going to do?  Hit him with a
Dr. Seuss book?  He walked out into the
open.

"Okay," he conceded, "I'll cooperate."

"You sure as hell will," a male voice
said.  Two men entered and after forcing
his arms behind him, shoved him into the
bathroom across the hall.  He fell onto
his hands and knees before hearing the
door lock behind him.
 

"He's awake?" Cancerman asked.

"For now," answered Thompson.

He lit a fresh cigarette.  "How did he
seem?"

"Older," replied Matthews.

Cancerman nodded.  "Give him a few more
hours to sleep and we'll begin the
experiment in the morning," he ordered.
"I trust you can manage the situation
until then."  He dropped his cigarette,
stomping out the burning ember.

"Yes, sir," answered the operatives, as
they watched him walk back to his office.
 

Mulder overheard the conversation.
Experiment?  Oh, shit!  He looked around
the bathroom looking for any kind of
weapon; all he saw was a shower stall, a
toilet, a sink with a bar of soap and a
small stack of paper towels.  Well, at
least there wasn't a potty chair.  There
was nothing he could use to defend himself
here.  He tried to open the door and when
he couldn't, he called out, "Can I get out
of here?"

Mulder heard the door unlock and saw it
move slightly inward.

He sprinted out the door, using both hands
to slam it open.  As soon as he got a few
inches from the door frame, a taught,
muscular arm caught him at his chest.  He
felt his legs go out from under him and he
landed hard on his ass.  "Ow!"

He scrambled to get up.  A kick to his
ribs knocked him back down to the floor.
Panting, Mulder rolled away to the side
and into the wall in an effort to get away
from his attackers.  He made another
attempt to get up when he felt a kick to
his lower back.  "Ah!" he yelled.

A hand grabbed him by the hair, and his
scalp burned as he was pulled to the
center of the bathroom.  He kicked his
legs out wildly, hoping to strike someone,
somewhere important.  Suddenly, his legs
were gripped tightly at the knees by a
pair of strong arms.  He was rolled onto
his back.  The smaller of the two men
grabbed his arms and pinned them over his
head at the elbows.  Mulder twisted his
torso trying to break free of either man's
grip.  The smaller man then put a knee on
his chest and as the grip was eased up on
his legs, the man took his foot and tucked
it underneath Mulder's groin.

"I would suggest that you do not move,"
said the smaller, but still very strong,
man.

"Fuck you!" Mulder managed to say. Jeez,
he couldn't breathe.

The bigger man holding his legs released
his grip altogether.  Mulder pulled his
legs up hoping to get in one good kick but
the smaller man on his chest brought up
the foot under his groin hard and swift.
He tried to scream something but he had no
voice, no power to scream.  He felt the
pain spread from the bottom of his groin
throughout his belly.  Mulder saw stars.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on
breathing.  He tried to move his legs, but
the pain made that impossible.  When he
opened his eyes he saw the larger man
holding a hypodermic needle.

"No!" he yelped.  The smaller man
responded by leaning harder on his chest
along with a tighter tuck under his
already sore nuts.  He tried to move his
arms but all he could do was move his
hands a little.  "Is this really
necessary?  Can't we discuss this?"  The
large man pushed the plunger on the needle
and Mulder saw fluid fly.  "Guess not," he
croaked.

His hips were moved up and toward the side
slightly.  His nuts were pinched against
the shoe.  Ha! and he thought the pain
couldn't get worse.  Oh, boy!  He tried to
make a sound but all he could do was pant.
His jeans and boxers were tugged down and
he felt the burn of an injection in his
backside.  "Oh shit," he muttered.

 "'Oh shit' is right," said the man
holding him down.

He was pushed back so he was laying flat
again.  He felt a pair of hands hold his
knees down.  The smaller man took his shoe
out of Mulder's crotch and his knee off
his chest.  Mulder gasped for air.  He
lifted his head and saw that the room was
starting to spin.  He tried to move his
arms but they were still being held down.
He tried to roll over and found he didn't
have the strength to move anymore.  His
eyes couldn't stay open any longer.  He
felt himself being picked up under the
arms and the again by his ankles.  He felt
his ribs smack against the door frame but
he didn't care.  He was relieved of his
pain as the darkness enveloped him
completely.

End Part 7

Part 8

9:00 AM

Matthews was sure the old man purposely
blew a stream of smoke into his face.

"What exactly is your medical training?"
asked the Cancerman.

"I was pre-Med at Georgetown, before I was
recruited by the FBI.  I also have EMT
training, sir," he replied.

The old man nodded, "Given what
I've told you about our guest's recent
experiments with Ketamine, can you give me
an explanation for these periods of time
where he believes he is a child?"

Matthews considered his response
carefully.  This is not a man he wanted to
second guess or play games with.  Too many
colleagues had died under mysterious and
grisly circumstances, not to mention the
ones that seemed to have disappeared off
the planet.

He thought back to his old partner, Jack.
They had both been recruited by the
Cancerman, from the FBI.  He had promised
them more money, less hours and power.
"Power to create the future," he had told
them.  Both he and Jack believed their
boss, until he became obsessed with Agent
Mulder.  There was something sick about
this obsession, almost incestuous.  Jack
confronted the Cancerman once, just in a
passing comment.  The next day, when
Matthews took his trash out to the trash
bin, he opened the side door to the
dumpster and saw a body dressed in a dark
suit.  He climbed into the rancid dumpster
and pulled the body up out of the garbage
and the muck.  The face had been covered
with a dark hood.  When he removed the
hood, he saw the face of his partner.  He
found a bullet wound at the back of his
head, but no exit wound.  Jack's
expression was one of total shock.  A
warning had been issued that day.
Matthews understood the impact of this
warning fully.

He was grateful he had taken the basic
neuroanatomy class as a pre-med student.
At one point he had though about becoming
a neurologist.  He had a great deal of
interest in this field. He tried to keep
up with the medical journals and any new
Oliver Sacks books that came out.  He took
a deep breath, steeled himself, and donned
his "professional hit man mask".

"The probable etiology of the seizures is
due to the direct electrical charge to the
frontal lobe," he explained.  "Under
certain conditions, a seizure can be
induced."

"Such as flashing lights."  Cancerman
inhaled a long drag from his cigarette.

"Yes, sir.  For people with epilepsy, they
tend to be confused when they come out of
a seizure," he continued.  "Mulder does
not technically have epilepsy, but he
suffered a change in the electrical
activity in the brain as a result of Dr.
Goldstein's direct shock to the dura
matter of his frontal lobe.  His
*memories* are a result of the Ketamine
and it's affect on the occipital lobe of
the brain, giving him the hallucinations
or memories."  He looked at the old man.
"I believe that Mulder comes out of the
seizure confused and in an hallucinatory
state."

"From what I understand these memories or
hallucinations occurred when he was 12
years old.  Why is he waking up as a 4
year old?" the old man inquired.

Matthews had been curious about this
himself.  From his "Bureau" days he had
heard all the "Spooky" Mulder rumors.  At
the time, he was hoping to get ahead in
the Violent Crimes Division, so Matthews
had done some investigating on Mulder, the
Bureau's "golden boy".  Working for
Cancerman had given him an opportunity to
learn more about Mulder, including the
revised story of his sister's abduction.

"I'm not a psychologist but I do have a
theory," he offered.  Good.  Keep the
voice flat and unemotional, he told
himself.

Cancerman blew out another long stream of
smoke.  "Let's hear it then."

As badly as he wanted to, Matthews didn't
cough as the smoke assaulted him.  "I
think his brain is trying to make a cogent
connection to *you*, sir.  He recalls you
being at the summer house when he was 12
and before that when he was four.
Although the adult Mulder might not
remember this person as being you, his
subconscious has somehow made the
connection."

"I see.  Very good, Matthews.  What about
when he is more . . . himself, shall we
say."

Matthews watched the old man stub out the
cigarette into the overflowing ash tray
and reach over on the desk to retrieve his
pack.  He noticed his boss glancing at the
monitor and looked at it himself.  Mulder
was sprawled across the youth bed, asleep.

Matthews took in a breath, stating,
"Apparently sleep allows his brain time to
re-charge, figuratively speaking, and he
then returns to his normal state.  I
expect that as he continues to heal from
his last treatment session, these moments
of confusion and hallucination will cease
all together."  His mouth was very dry and
he hoped it was not detected by the old
man.  He didn't want to turn up in a
dumpster, shot execution style somewhere.

"You don't say.  Well, in that case, 'Dr.'
Matthews, I suggest you locate some
Ketamine and any other apparatus required
to duplicate the treatment.  That will be
all," he announced.

"Sir, I don't think . . . "

The old man hissed, "I don't care what you
*think* Matthews.  You're not here to
think, you are here to follow my orders.
If that's not clear to you certain
arrangements can be made."

Matthews felt his chest begin to pound.
Shaken by this outburst, he had only seen
vented toward others, he made sure his
"professional hit man face" had not
cracked.

"That will be all," the old man said,
dismissing him.

With clenched jaws and a fantasy involving
the gory and humiliating death of his
boss, he left the office quickly.

9:30 AM

"I assume everything is ready, Lewis,"
Cancerman asked the operative covering for
Matthews.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Well then, I think it's time to pay a
visit to our little friend.  Open the
door."

Lewis did as instructed.

Mulder was in a drug induced sleep.  His
breathing was slow and regular.

The old man kicked a leg of the bed and
heard Mulder's sharp intake of breath.
Good, he was awake now.

Mulder sat upright quickly.  He brought
his hands up to his head as if he were in
pain.

Cancerman threw a white tee shirt toward
him.  "Put that on," he ordered.

"Why?  Do you want to do play Chutes and
Ladders?" Mulder asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Is that what you want to do?"  He was
unsure which Fox Mulder this was before
him.

"No.  But I'd be happy to go a few rounds
with you alone, you disgusting bag of
shit."

Obviously, this was not the four year old
Fox he had seen at the X-Files office and
in the limousine.

"I see no reason for violence, at this
time, Agent Mulder," he said.  "Really,
I'm quite surprised.  I'd thought you'd be
more cooperative given your current
situation."

"What situation is that?" Mulder asked
with a sigh.

"Agent Mulder, can you tell me what time
it is?"

Mulder stared at the wall.

"Or what day it is?  How about if it's day
or night?  Really, I'd be interested in a
response to any of those three."

Mulder looked at his left wrist.  He
ordered his operatives to take Mulder's
watch along with his shoes.  Yes, he
wanted information out of him, but he also
wanted to humiliate Agent Mulder.  He had
an ego problem and it was about time someone
took him down a peg or two.

"No," Mulder snapped.  "I can't answer the
questions.  Does that make you feel like
more of a man?"

The old man threw down his cigarette.
"You better change your attitude with me
Agent Mulder," he warned.  "I'd hate to
see anything truly bad happen to you or
perhaps your partner."  He enjoyed
threatening Mulder.

He saw Mulder leap off the bed and stand
before him, fists clenched.

"Leave me alone, leave *us* alone," Mulder
said between clenched teeth.

How sweet, the old man thought dryly.  He
reached into his pocket for the remote
that controlled the overhead light.  "I
hate to think how upset your mother might
be if you turned up somewhere in a coma:
nothing more than a vegetable," he said,
smiling slightly.  "She would be so upset,
losing both of her children."  He breathed
in the smoke, and blew the cancerous fumes
out on Mulder's face.  "Don't you think?"

Suddenly he felt himself lifted off the
chair by the lapels of his coat.  How dare
this insolent punk touch me!

"That's it!" Mulder said.  "I'm going to
find a way to kill your sorry . . . "

He felt the remote in his hand and touched
the "on" button.  The overhead light
started to flicker immediately.

"No!" Mulder yelled.  He dropped him back
on the chair.

Mulder's hands flew up to his head and his
face screwed up as if he were in terrible
pain.

Let the show begin, the old man thought.
He turned the dial on the remote control
to make the lights flicker more quickly.

"What's happening?" Mulder yelled. "No!"
He fell onto his knees on the floor.  He
buried his face in his hands.  "Stop," he
cried, weakly.  "Please!"

He watched Mulder fall over on his side on
the floor.  How interesting.  He lit
another cigarette and grinned as
Mulder began convulsing.  "Try not to give
yourself brain damage Agent Mulder," he
said, gleaming.

End Part 8

Part 9

North Springfield, VA
Abandoned School
10:15 AM

"You're a little spy," the man, standing
in a cloud of cigarette smoke in the
doorway, had said.  That was the last
thing he remembered.  Oh, man, his head
hurt. He was on the floor; a very hard
floor.  He grunted as he attempted to roll
over on his side.  He felt something
tickle his face.  He touched his forehead
and slowly opened his eyes.  Blood.  He
was bleeding.  He looked around and saw a
man sitting in a chair watching him.

"Where am I?" he asked the older man, as
he struggled to a sitting position.

"What do you remember?" was the reply.

"My parents were having a fight
downstairs.  My sister is afraid and
upset."  He groaned.  Wow, his head hurt.
"Am I in the hospital or something?" he
asked.

"Why, yes, you are.  You were at the
summer house and you fell and hit your
head," replied the old man.  "Don't you
remember?"

He shook his head.  "Can I see my dad
please?" requested the 12 year old Fox
Mulder.

"Yes, after the doctor is finished, I'll
get your father," the stranger said.

"Who are you?"  He felt strange, confused
or something.  What's wrong with me, he
wondered.

"I'm a good friend of the family's, Fox,
surely you remember that?" the man smoking
the cigarette asked.

Fox turned to get a good look at this man.
"No.  I don't remember seeing you before."

The man dropped his cigarette and Fox was
happy to get away from the disgusting
smoke--but the old man fished out another.

The man lit this new cigarette quickly and
it dangled from the corner of his mouth
while he said, "I have a son who is a very
good friend of your mother and father.
Perhaps I resemble him in some way?  He
has shorter hair and . . . "

". . . and it's brown.  He wears jackets
and smokes like my dad," replied Fox.
"Yeah.  He's over at the house now with
my mom and sister, I guess.  Why are you
here?" he asked.  Something wasn't right.
He felt so confused and he was worried
about his mom and sister.  They both were
crying when he . . . fell or something.

The smoking man smiled, saying, "Oh, I'm
the administrator of the hospital.  When I
found out it was you coming in I wanted to
make sure everything went just fine.  I
thought I'd stay with you until the
doctor has finished your examination.
I'll bring you to your father then."

Fox took in a breath and looked around the
room.  This sure didn't look like any
hospital he had ever seen.  His head was
still bleeding and he was getting blood
all over his hand and shirt.  He looked
around the room for a towel.

The old man offered some rough paper
towels.  "Here you go," he said.  "Put
some pressure on that cut until the doctor
comes in.  That's right."  The smoking man
stared at him, making him feel self-
conscious.  "You're quite a remarkable
boy, Fox.  Why, you're almost a man!"

Fox groaned.  He hated when adults said
stuff like that.  "Oh, my how tall you
are!  You'll be a heart breaker!" and
other dumb stuff.  He just wanted to be
left alone to study astronomy, play ball
and read.

"You mentioned your parents were
fighting.  Do you know what it was about?"

Fox looked sharply at this man.  Why
should he tell him anything?  His son can
let him know.  There was no way he was
going to this stranger about what he had
seen and heard tonight.  "No," he stated
firmly.

"It's okay to tell me, you know.  In fact,
that's why I'm here.  I need to know that
your father didn't do this to you.  If he
was responsible, you'll have to go to a
home for boys and girls that will be safer
for you," he threatened.  "Have you ever
heard of 'Foster Care?'"

Fear clenched his gut and his chest. "No,"
Fox spoke quickly.  "No way my dad did
this.  It's like you said, I fell and hit
my head."

"But you don't remember, do you?"  He
brushed some ashes off his coat sleeve.

Fox slowly shook his head and responded,
"Umm, no, not exactly, but I know my dad
wouldn't hurt me!"

The old man leaned back in the chair and
said, "You said your parents were
fighting.  Maybe they were fighting about
you and that made your dad angry."

Fox felt his jaw dropped.  How could this
man even *think* that could happen.  "No!"
he said emphatically.  "They weren't
fighting about me, they were talking about
. . ."

"What, young man?" he asked, leaning
towards him.  "You must tell me if I'm
going to release you to the custody of
your father."

Fox shook his head.  What a mess.  He
didn't want to be forced to live in a
foster home.  He decided to tell the
administrator what he knew.  "I couldn't
catch all of it," he admitted.  "Samantha,
and I, were supposed to be getting ready
for bed.  My mom was crying real hard and
saying something about 'not losing her
baby'.  Whatever that meant.  I know it
scared Samantha a lot."  He stopped
himself.  Had he told too much, he
wondered.  He swallowed hard.  "She was
paying closer attention, maybe they were
fighting about her.  I don't know."

"Has your father ever hit your sister?"
asked the man.

"Jeez, No!" Fox said.  How could he think
of such a cruel thing?  His dad wasn't
like that.

The man dropped his cigarette on the floor
and reached in his pocket.  He brought out
a new pack of cigarettes.  "Well, I'm
sorry if that offends you but I must do my
job properly.  Surely you understand
that."

Fox nodded, checking the towel to see if
the bleeding had stopped.  Not yet.  He
didn't want to get stitches; he hated
that.

"What else was happening at the house
tonight?" the man asked.  "It might help
me to understand your situation if I knew
what you heard and saw, Fox."

Fox nervously shuffled his feet.  "Oh, I
don't know.  Your son was there."  Then he
added, quietly, "I saw him hugging my
mom."  As soon as he said it, he wished he
could take it back.  He felt his face burn
with anger and shame.

"I imagine you didn't approve."

"Well, it's just that she was all upset
and it should have been my dad, you know,
my dad there, doing that," he blurted.
Oh, jeez!  He didn't want to let on how
angry he was at this man's son.

"My son has known your parents for quite a
long time."  The administrator continued,
"He knew them even before you were born,
Fox.  There's nothing wrong with one
friend comforting another, is there?"

"I don't know about junk like that," Fox
said, angrily.  He wasn't stupid.  He knew
what the administrator was implying.  He
was definitely no expert, but he knew
about girls and stuff.  He didn't care if
this guy's son knew his mom before she met
dad.  That was none of his business.
 

Matthews tapped on the door.

"Come in," he heard the old man say.

He entered the room carrying the medical
bag.  Mulder was sitting on the floor
holding a wad of bloodied paper towels to
his temple.

"Oh, Dr. Matthews, there you are," the old
man said.  "As you see, young Fox Mulder
hit his head here and has been bleeding
for a few minutes.  I'm sure it's nothing
too serious.  Did you know this was Bill
Mulder's boy?" he asked.

Matthews replied, "No, sir, I didn't."  He
looked at Fox.  "Why don't you have a seat
here on the bed, Fox, so I can examine you
better."  He removed the bunched-up paper
towels to reveal a deep cut at his temple.

"Yes," the old man said, waving his
cigarette around, "he's all of 12 years
now."

Matthews nodded.  "Do you remember the
last time you had your tetanus shot, Fox?"
he asked.

"Umm, not really," stammered the boy.  "I
can't think real straight right now.  I
guess I really whacked my head, huh?"  He
winced.

"Well, you don't need stitches.  It *is* a
deep cut and I'll have to put on a special
bandage that will help close the wound.
You can handle that, right?"  He took out
some supplies from the medical bag, and
began cleaning the cut with an alcohol
wipe.

"Yeah," the boy said, weakly.  "My dad's
outside, you can ask him about when I got
my shots.  He'll know."

The old man clapped his hands and said,
"An excellent idea.  Dr. Matthews, when
you have finished there, I'll accompany
you to Mr. Mulder.  After you fill him in
on his son's condition, he can take young
Fox home."  "I'm going to ask you a
question and I want you to be honest with
me," said Matthews.

"Yeah, sure.  What?" said the boy, calmly.

"Do you have a bad headache right now?"

"Yeah, I guess, a little," Fox answered,
shyly.

"Okay," he said.  "I want you to grab my
index fingers here and squeeze as hard as
possible.  Go ahead."  There was no
significant weakness in his grip.  "Good,
now I'm going to hold up my finger and I
want you to watch it and follow it with
your eyes.  Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," Fox replied.

The boy stared at the finger watching it
go all the way to the right and then . . .

"No, don't_move_your_head, just your
eyes following my finger," Matthews
explained.  "Let's try again."

They repeated the test.  Matthews noted
Fox's eyes were slightly sluggish.  Hmm,
that's not a good sign, Matthews thought.

Nodding, he said, "Okay, let's do one more
thing.  Stand up," he instructed.  "That's
right, put your arms straight out to the
sides.  I'm going to try and push your
arms down and I want you to stop me."  He
pushed down and felt some give on the
boy's right side.  "Okay.  This time I'm
going to push up on your arms and I want
you to keep them steady."  Again, his
right arm was weaker.  "Okay, very good.
Have a seat and I'll be back after I speak
with your father."  He tried to sound
reassuring.

He left with the Cancerman following him.

"What was all that about Matthews?"
Cancerman sounded angry.

"I needed to do a quick neuro check,"
Matthews explained.  "I think he has some
damage on the left side of his brain, but
I can't be sure of that.  It could be
serious, sir, potentially life
threatening.  He needs to see a
specialist."

"What bearing does this have on what I
intend to do here?" the old man hissed.

"None, sir."  He felt his voice, as well
as his body, snap into attention.

"Fine!" the old man yelled.  "You would do
well to remember your position, Matthews."

"Yes, sir," Matthews responded.

"Do you have the equipment you require?"
asked the old man as he put a fresh
cigarette in his mouth.

"Yes, sir," he said.  He really despised
this man.

"Good, yes, very good.  I think it's time
for Agent Mulder to have another
treatment.  His memories are returning,
and I need to know exactly how much he
remembers."

"He will most likely seize instantly,"
Matthews informed.  "I have Velcro
restraints I can use to quickly secure him
to the bed frame.  After the initial
seizure, I don't know what to expect."  He
added, "He'll definitely need some fluids
and something to eat if he can handle it."

The old man waved his hand, saying, "Fine.
Agent Mulder's needs will be taken care of
as long as he is providing me with the
information I want.  Give him the
treatment then stay with him.  Send
someone for me the moment he becomes
lucid."  He turned sharply, flicking his
cigarette off to the side.

Matthews crossed the hall to stomp on the
disgusting cigarette.  It was just as well
he probably wouldn't live long enough to
know the effects of all the second hand
smoke from this pompous ass.

"Okay," Matthews said, entering the room.
He saw Fox sitting on the bed.  "Your dad
said it's been a while since your last
tetanus booster, so I'll have to give you
a shot."

He saw Fox shuffling his feet.  The kid
probably hated shots.

He brought out the goggles and the
Walkman.  The boy's eyes widened.  "Here,
this is something to keep your mind busy
while I give you the shot."

"What is that?" Fox asked.  His voice was
filled with curiosity.

Matthews said, "I think you'll find this
interesting.  The goggles play a kind of
movie while this plays music."

"Wow!" Fox said, touching the plastic ear
pieces of the small headphones.  "This is
boss!"

Matthews smiled inwardly.  "Boss".  He
hadn't heard that used as an adjective for
a long time.  "It's a lot of fun.  I think
you'll enjoy it."  He put the goggles over
the boy's eyes and adjusted them so that
they sat correctly on the bridge of his
nose.  Then he pulled out the Ketamine and
a syringe.

"When can you turn it on?" Fox asked.

"If you want, I can start the music now,"
he offered.  "Then after I give you the
shot, I'll turn on the pictures."

"Okay," said the boy.  Matthews saw his
hands turn into tight fists.  The kid was
nervous.

"Let me help you lie down on the bed," he
guided the 6'1" body on the youth bed.

"At first you'll hear a whooshing noise
and then it will change to music,"
Matthews lied.  He found the play button
on the Walkman.  "I'm turning it on now,"
he warned.  He saw the boy jump.  He must
have been startled.  He lifted an ear
piece.  "Too loud?" he asked.

"No, it's fine.  It's a little weird but
that's okay," said the boy.

Matthews gently rolled him over to the
side and pulled down the top of his pants
and underwear and injected the muscle with
the veterinary drug.

"Oh, man, that burns," Fox said as he
was rolled onto his back.  He reached up
and straightened the ear pieces.

Matthews watched him carefully.

He heard the boy moan.  "Dr.  Matth . . .
Doc . . . I feel weird," he said.

Matthews put one of his hands on Fox's
shoulder.  "Try to relax," he said.
"Shots can make people feel strange,
sometimes."

He watched the boy nod slowly.

Matthews waited and watched, looking for a
sign that he was losing consciousness.  In
a few minutes, he saw Mulder's body relax
completely.  Matthews wrapped one Velcro
strap around the head rail on the bed and
gently raised Mulder's left hand to fit
into the restraint.  He realized he should
have moved the bed from against the wall
so he could keep both of Mulder's hands
down; it would have been more comfortable.
He took another strap and tied it around
the side of the bed and put Mulder's right
hand into the material, thus securing both
hands.  Matthews finished by strapping
down each leg onto the bed frame.  He took
the pillow from under Mulder's head and
placed it on Mulder's side, forcing him to
tilt to the side a bit.  If Mulder choked,
he wanted to be ready to turn him on his
side in order to clear his airway.  He
double checked his work, then turned on
the goggles and saw the intermittent
flashing red lights. Matthews watched him
carefully in case Mulder began to choke.
Mulder's breathing became rapid.  Within
seconds he began to seize.  It was
definitely a clonic-tonic seizure.

"Breathe," he reminded Mulder, as the
convulsions continued.

After a few minutes, Mulder's body had
steadied and his breathing became more
regular.  Matthews took off the goggles
and the headset.  Mulder was drenched in
sweat, blinking hard and looking around.

"Do you know where you are?" Matthews
asked.

"No, no, I don't know," he said.  "I'm
tired.  I'm so tired.  Let me sleep.  I
need to sleep," he pleaded, closing his
eyes.

Matthews wiped the sweat off of Mulder's
face.  This wasn't right.  He shook his
head.  Damn it!  This wasn't right!  He
cursed the old man for ordering him to
perform such a cruel task.

End Part 9

Part 10

2:15 PM

He was dreaming.  It was the day of his
High School graduation.  Fox and his
classmates were sitting on the bleachers
next to the track.  They were to practice
walking into the small stadium and sitting
in the correct seats.  The small school
band was having a hard time getting the
music right.  The frenzied band teacher
told all of the seniors to sit while the
band practiced.

"What a waste of time," Fox complained to
his current girlfriend, Sue.  She had long
curly blonde hair.  She was okay, a bit
flighty, but she served a purpose.  He
could always go over to her house when his
folks started fighting again.  They had
been divorced for almost four years, but
they "shared custody" of him.  He hated
that, too.  He wasn't a piece of property,
for crying out loud.  That's how they made
him feel.  He lived with mom during the
week, and then with dad on the weekends.
Whenever they saw each other they fought.
Fox was sick of it.  If they would just
buy him a car then . . .

"Fox, are you listening to me?" whined
Sue.

He did a mental rewind of the tape
recorder in his brain.  "Yeah.  You
said that Jimmy and Cheryl couldn't come
to your party tonight."  Having an eidetic
memory definitely came in handy; but it
could also be a curse.  He was the only 16
year old to be graduating from his class.
His classmates hated him until his
teachers agreed to throw out all of his
test scores before grading tests on the
bell curve.  He didn't ask to be smart or
have a photographic memory.  His body
ached just thinking about the times he got
beaten up after school by the older kids.
Oxford was going to be great.

"Fox, you're not paying attention to me at
all!" Sue said, pouting.

"Yes_I_am," he insisted.  He tried to
reassure her.  "Look, don't worry
about tonight.  Your party is going to be
the best on the Vineyard."  He kissed her
cheek.

"I'm sorry.  You were paying attention,"
she murmured, resting her head on his
shoulder.  "Do you think you're going to
get a car for graduation?"

He laughed.  "Yeah, right.  I'm leaving
for England in a few weeks.  Why would
they get me a car now?"

She whimpered, saying, "I don't want you
to leave.  Why did you pick a school so
far away?"

He sat up straight, forcing Sue off his
shoulder.  "I chose Oxford *because* it
was far away," he explained.

She crossed her arms and began pouting
again.  "You're going to forget all about
me.  I can't compete with the girls in
England; so proper and smart.  Will you
write to me?"

He put his arm around her again saying,
"Of course I'll write to you."  He
whispered, in her ear, "Hey.  How are we
going to find time alone tonight?"

Blushing, she said, "Well, my mom and
dad agreed to be out of the house
until midnight.  So, I thought we could
just sneak into my bedroom and, well, you
know."

He smiled and whispered, "No.  Tell me
what's going to happen.  Tell me all the
details, everything that you want."
Her face got bright red.

It was going to be their first time.  He
was fairly sure it would be her first
time.  He knew what the other girls were
saying about him in school.  Something
about "school not being the only area he
was clever in".  He felt his face flush.
People said a lot of things about him.

"I'll tell you tonight," she giggled.

He grinned and held her closer in his arm.
He looked behind them and saw an older man
in a dark suit, smoking a cigarette.  I
know this man, he thought.  How do I know
this man?

The older man's eyes met his own.  Then
he did something odd.  He pointed toward
the sky and winked.

Fox looked up into the sky, and felt a
sharp pain in his eyes.

Mulder awoke to the same small room.
Looking around, he saw his bag that held
a couple changes of clothes and his
shaving kit on the table.  How did that
get there?  He continued to survey the
room and saw that a thin man in a dark
suit was watching him.  Another armed
guard, that's just great, thought Mulder.

"Are you awake?" his guard asked,
brusquely.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he managed to croak.
His throat and mouth were dry.  "Look, I'm
too tired to make trouble, so what do you
say we lose these things?" he tugged on
the restraints.

The man only nodded and then left the
room.

Mulder put his head back on the wet
pillow.  What's going on?

A few minutes later, Evander Holyfield in
a black suit came in, carrying a small
stack of plastic cups.  This guy was huge!

"How are you feeling?" he asked Mulder.

His mouth was so dry.  He tried to get
some saliva going in his mouth so he could
talk.  "It's happening again, isn't it?"
Mulder said.  "I'm having flashbacks.
That's why I'm here."

The man put the cups down on the table and
came over to his bedside.  Mulder knew how
these men operated and he readied himself
for a punch.  He was shocked when he felt
the man gently lift his wrist to take his
pulse.

"Holyfield" said, "I'm going to take off
the wrist restraints so you can sit up.
You need some fluids and I have apple
juice for you.  If you fight me, or make
any attempts to do *anything* but drink
this juice, I'll knock you out."

Mulder nodded his head and opened his
hands, indicating he wouldn't put up a
fight.  He'd be nuts to piss this guy off.

Holyfield was true to his word and took
off the wrist restraints.  Mulder slowly
got up, noting the pounding in his head,
and hoped the room would stop spinning
soon.  He was still in the same room he
had woken up to before.  When was that?
Yesterday? A few hours ago?

"Take your time with this and there's more
if you want it," Holyfield said, handing
the cup to Mulder.  He then sat on the
chair near the bed.

"Thanks," said Mulder.  The juice tasted
good.  He handed the cup back and asked
for a refill.  After he drained the second
cup he realized a few things:  he was
starving, he really needed a shower, and
he'd been given Ketamine recently.  He was
sure of the latter because of the side
effects he was feeling.  He also felt some
tenderness in his backside and figured it
was from an injection.  He was here as a
guest of Cancerman, and something was
going on.

"What are the chances of a shower and
something to eat?" he asked Holyfield.

"Good, as long as you don't pull any
stunts."

Mulder shook his head.  "I'm not in any
shape to pull any 'stunts'."  He looked up
at the disk on the ceiling.  "I think
we're all aware of that," he said loudly.

His leg restraints were taken off and he
slowly got up, trying to work out the
kinks in his back and the stiffness in his
legs.  Unsteady on his feet, he took a few
steps towards his bag and picked it up.

"No," said Holyfield.  "Just take what you
need."

Mulder ran his hand across his jaw and
realized he had a few days of growth to
shave off.  He pulled out a fresh pair of
jeans, gray knit boxers and a black tee-
shirt. He fished around the bottom of the
bag and brought out his shaving kit.

"Let me see that," the big man demanded.

Mulder handed the shaving kit to him.

Holyfield opened it up and pulled out all
of the items:  a disposable razor, shaving
cream, a comb, deodorant and hair gel.  He
took out the razor and zipped the kit back
up.  "Here," he said, handing it back.
"The door will be open when you use the
razor."

Mulder muttered, "Whatever."  Maybe the
guy got off watching men shave.  He wasn't
going to argue.

The door to his room was opened, followed
by the bathroom door across the hall.
This door was shut and locked promptly
after he entered the room.
 

"He's awake," Cancerman said to Matthews
as he approached him from the hall.

Matthews nodded. "Mulder's showering."

"Yes, I heard."  He brought out a pack of
cigarettes and quickly found one to light
up.  "Why do you want to watch him shave?"
he asked.

Matthews said, "Because, sir, if he
starts to have another seizure I want to
take that razor out of his hand."

"I see.  How many seizures has he had
since you gave him the Ketamine
injection?"  He inhaled the acrid smoke.

"Three."

"Three, then.  Has he emerged as himself
each time?"

"Yes," Matthews responded.

"I see.  Do you have an explanation or
theory about that?"

"Not at this time, sir," Matthews said.

"I'll be watching from my office.  I'll be
back for an experiment shortly," he
informed Matthews.

"Understood, sir."

He looked at his operative for a brief
moment.  Matthews has gone soft on Mulder.
Damn it!  Another operative who is nothing
but an insolent hunk of cowardice, he
thought angrily.  Matthews will need to
be dealt with very soon.  Indeed, the
moment he's no longer useful, he will be
taken out.

End Part 10

Part 11

3:00 PM

Matthews heard a knock on the bathroom
door.  He opened the door and handed
Mulder his razor.  Matthews stood in the
door way and watched Mulder go through the
shaving routine.  When he had finished,
Matthews escorted him across the hall to
his room.

He watched as Mulder put his dirty clothes
in his bag.  Without warning, the ceiling
light flashed on.  He felt his jaws
clench.  The strobe lights started to
flash.

"Ah," Mulder yelled.  Clutching his
head with his hands, he fell to his knees.

Matthews watched this angrily.  Who was
the old man testing, him or Mulder?  He
saw Mulder go down and quickly moved him
away from the table.  He tossed the chair
out the door and out of Mulder's way.
Grabbing a pillow off the bed, Matthews
placed it under Mulder's head and tilted
his head back, to make sure his airway was
clear.  He heard choking sounds and
quickly turned him onto his left side,
allowing the saliva to drain out.

A few minutes later, Mulder's body
began to quiet.  The strobe light had
stopped completely.  Matthews took the
towel Mulder had been using, and wiped the
sweat off of Mulder's face.  He had bitten
through his lip and it was bleeding.
Matthews held the towel to the unconscious
man's lip while taking his pulse.  It was
weak and rapid.  His hands were cold and
clammy and he looked pale.  Mulder was
going into shock.  If the old man was
going to keep this up, Mulder would die of
a heart attack before he could get any
more "information" out of him.  As gently
as possible, he lifted Mulder up and
placed him on the bed.

Mulder grunted and began to shiver.

"Mulder, you okay?" Matthews asked.

"I d . . . d . . . don't know."

He put a blanket on Mulder and checked his
lip.  The bleeding had almost stopped.

"I had an . . . an . . . another seizure,"
he stammered.  "It hap . . . happened
again."

"It's okay, man.  Tell me how old you
are."  He tucked the blanket underneath
Mulder's shaking body.

"Th . . . thirty five, why?"  Mulder
looked at him oddly.
 

The door opened and they both watched the
man drop his cigarette in the doorway as
he blew the gray smoke into the room.  He
brought out a new one and lit it before
lifting the overturned chair and placing
it upright near the bed.

"Matthews, you'll excuse us for a moment,"
he ordered.

Mulder wanted to get up but couldn't.  He
couldn't stop shaking.  At least he knew
the big man's name now.

Matthews left the room as ordered.

"How are you feeling?" Cancerman asked.

"How d . . . do . . . you think I'm f. .
. feeling you miserable piece of shit.
You shot me up with K . . . K . . .
Ketamine again, didn't you?  What do you
want from me?" he asked, staring at his
nemesis.  "If you're going to kill me, get
it over with.  I'm t . . . tired of your
games!"

The old man dropped his current smoke,
leaving it to smolder on the floor as he
got a new one to light up.  "If I wanted
you dead, you would be by now," he said.

Mulder rolled onto his side and then
pushed himself up so he was sitting
somewhat upright.  He was tired.  "Then
what do you want?"  He was exhausted and
he wasn't really sure he cared anymore.

"I want to know what you've been
remembering," Cancerman demanded.  "Is
that so much to ask?"

Mulder brought his hands to his face and
began rubbing his sore eyes.  "You tell
me," he challenged.

"I know you've been remembering a certain
time in your childhood.  A certain
disturbing event."

"Yeah," Mulder said.  "M . . . my high
school graduation.  It was a waste of
time, kind of like now."  He was dizzy.
He tried to shake it off but he couldn't
lose it.  There was no way he would let
this walking black lung poster child know
how impaired he felt at the moment.

Cancerman reprimanded him.  "Tsk-tsk,
Agent Mulder.  Such a lie is beneath us
both.  I know you've been remembering the
night your sister was taken.  If you want
to leave here all you have to do is tell
me what it is you have been remembering,"
he said.

Mulder shook his head.  "I need some w . .
. water."  He needed time to compose
himself.

Cancerman leaned back on the chair and
knocked on the door.

Matthews opened the door, his eyes
flashing to Mulder.  "Sir?"

"Bring him some water," Cancerman ordered.

"Yes, sir," Matthews replied, closing the
door behind him.

Mulder felt his right shoulder spasm.  If
Cancerman doesn't kill me the drugs will,
he thought.  A third dose of Ketamine . .
. how many "treatments" did Amy Cassandra
receive before she shot herself and her
husband?  He needed to rest just for a
minute.  He closed his eyes and took in a
deep breath of second hand smoke.
Coughing it out made his head pounded even
more.

Matthews came in with a pitcher of water
and more plastic cups.  He poured the
water into a cup and handed it to Mulder.

Mulder accepted the cup and drank it down
quickly.  It tasted bitter.  His eyes
flashed to Matthews and saw him nod,
slightly.  He wasn't sure, but he thought
Matthews was trying to help him somehow.
There definitely was something in the
water.  I hope he knows what he's doing,
Mulder thought.

"You may leave us now," the old man
informed Matthews.  His eyes squinted as
he drew in another lung full of smoke.
"Now, Agent Mulder, where were we . . .
ah, yes, you were about to tell me about
the night your sister was taken," he said,
through a smoky haze.

God, I'm tired, Mulder thought.  "No, you
tell me something first."

"And what is that, Agent Mulder?" he
dropped his cigarette and lit a new one.

Mulder glared at him in disgust.  "I want
you to tell me who_is_my_father," he
demanded.

A look of amusement crossed Cancerman's
face.  "Who do you think is your father?"
he asked, smiling.

"Stop the circular questioning crap and
answer the question," Mulder yelled.
"Answer the question!"  Mulder felt a wave
of dizziness crash through his body.  He
was getting weaker.  He couldn't pass out,
not yet.  He needed to know.

He watched Cancerman roll the cigarette
back and forth between his fingers.  "I
imagine you've already asked your mother.
I guess she wasn't forthcoming.  You're
mother was always a formidable woman.
Yes, a remarkable woman some might say."
He was grinning.

"Answer the question or get out," Mulder
spat.

"Tell me what you remember about the night
your sister was taken and I will consider
it," he spat, with the same venom as his
captive.

Mulder was feeling dizzy.  He shook his
head and lay down on the bed.  "Get out,"
he stated flatly.  He was too tired to
play these games.  Sighing, he covered his
eyes with his arm.

"Get up!" Cancerman ordered.  "You were a
spoiled brat as a child and you still are,
you little shit!  How dare you be smug
when you are so pathetic!  Chasing ghosts
and little green men on this insane quest
to find your precious sister," he yelled.

"Whatever," Mulder murmured.  He was so
tired of all of this:  the consortium, the
project, the M.I.B., the danger to Scully.
But most of all he was tired of this
disgusting excuse for a man.  He allowed
himself to give in to the exhaustion.
 

Cancerman stood up and stared at the young
man on the bed.  He reached inside his
coat pocket and found the remote control
to the strobe lights.  Taking it out of
his pocket, he directed the lights to go
on and to flash quickly.  He watched the
form on the bed intensely.  There was no
movement.  He should be having one of
those damn seizures!

"Matthews!" he yelled.  He slowly turned
down the flashing lights until they were
off completely.

He kicked the bed and heard a low grunt
from Mulder.

"Yes, sir," Matthews said, as he entered
the room.

"What did you do to him?" he yelled.

Matthews shook his head.  "Nothing, sir."

"He should have had one of those damn
seizures and he didn't.  Tell me what you
did to him!"  Spittle flew as he yelled.

"I didn't do anything sir.  May I examine
him?" he asked.  "I might be able to
figure out what's going on."

Cancerman waved his hand.  "Yes, do it!"

Matthews brought Mulder's arm down and
laid it across his chest.  He checked his
pupils and then his pulse.

"He's unconscious, sir," he reported.

Camcerman was furious!  "What?
Unconscious!  How can that be  "We were
having a conversation.  He can't be
unconscious, you moron."

Matthews straightened.  "Sir, I think the
Ketamine was a mistake.  I think his
neurological system has been compromised
and it has forced his body to respond by
shutting down."

Cancerman pointed a yellow finger at him.
"You *think*?  I'm not interested in what
you *think*.  You wake him up.  Give him
something to wake him up.  Do it now!" he
ordered.  He felt himself beginning to
shake with anger.

"There are no supplies to do what you
want, sir.  Besides, Mulder needs the
rest."  Matthews said.

"How much *rest* will he require?" he
asked.

Matthews shrugged.  "I have no way to
determine that, sir."

He dropped his cigarette and stomped on it
violently.  "Damn it!," he yelled.  The
anger continued to build inside and he
needed to release it.  He kicked over the
chair in a fury.  "Damn it!" he yelled
again.  He kicked the chair again and
watched it fly across the hall hitting the
bathroom door.  He began to pace the
length of the room and then stopped
himself.  He couldn't let an operative see
him distressed.  Calmly, he said, "Fine.
I'll allow Mulder to rest, but only until
you get whatever it is you need to wake
him up.  Make it quick Matthews," he
ordered.

"Yes, sir," Matthews answered.

Thompson entered the small room.  "Sir,
is everything all right? he asked his
boss.

"Watch him," he ordered.  "Come get me if
he wakes up."  He grabbed Thompson's arm.
"I want to be notified immediately.  Do
you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Thompson replied.

"You!"  He pointed at Matthews.
"Don't waste time.  Go!"

"Yes, sir."  Matthews quickly left the
room.

End Part 11

Part 12

FBI Headquarters
5:20 PM

Scully ran up the stairs and charged into
Skinner's office.

"What have you got, Agent Scully?" Skinner
asked.

"I've got an address, sir," she said.  She
held out the piece of paper with the
address written on it.  "The man said
Mulder was being held here.  He said that
Cancerman was doing 'experiments' on
Mulder."

Skinner nodded.  "Get your team together.
We leave when you're ready."

"Yes, sir," Scully said with enthusiasm.

North Springfield
Abandoned School
6:00 PM

Matthews came back with a vial of
Procaine.  He didn't want to use it on
Mulder, he preferred the sleeping man wake
up naturally.  Touching his inside coat
pocket, Matthews felt the syringe filled
with Normal Saline solution.  Good,
everything was set.  He dropped the
Procaine into the black medical bag and
proceeded to the office.

"Sir?" he inquired, as he slowly opened
the office door.  He saw the back of
Cancerman's head.

"Did you take care of everything?" the old
man asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Go wake him up."

"Yes, sir," he answered.

Mulder was curled around the pillow.
Matthews checked his pulse and it was a
bit slower than before.  The Halcion he
had put in the water was a very effective
sedative.

Matthews pulled out a packaged syringe
from his breast pocket, with the Saline
filled syringe hidden behind it.  He
dropped this syringe in the bag as he
picked up the vial of Procaine.  As he
pulled the Procaine into the empty
syringe, he used the bulk of his body to
block the camera's view.  He reached in
the bag and dropped the drug-filled
syringe and picked up the one with Saline
solution along with an alcohol wipe.  He
swabbed down Mulder's upper arm and gave
him the injection of Saline solution.  He
did it!  He pulled it off!  He shook
Mulder, pretending to wake him.  He didn't
stir.  Matthews heard the sound of
footsteps come down the hallway.

"Is he awake?" the old man asked, tossing
his cigarette aside.

"Not yet, sir."  Matthews shook Mulder
again, a little more aggressively.

No reaction, not even a grunt.

"What's the problem?" Cancerman seemed
anxious.

Matthews shook his head.  "Coma, sir."

"What?  You must be joking!" the old man
said angrily.

"That's the only explanation I have at
this time," Matthews answered calmly.  He
despised this pathetic old man.  How in
the hell could he have feared such a
despicable person?

Thompson rushed into the room, announcing,
"We've got company, sir.  I suggest we
take the back exit now."

Cancerman glared at Matthews.  Matthews
stared him down.  He didn't feel fear from
this contemptible man anymore.

"Bring the car around.  Matthews, leave
him," the old man ordered.

The three men hurried toward the basement
exit of the school.

North Springfield, VA
Outside Abandoned School
7:15 PM

The team was outside the old school.  It
had been abandoned for only 3 years, but
the graffiti and trash made it look like
it had been abandoned much earlier.

"Agent Scully, the retrieval team is ready and
waiting for your orders," said Skinner

Scully nodded.  "Let's go to work people,"
she said, into her headset.

They entered the buildings, weapons drawn.

Scully nodded to three of the team members
and they took the stairs to the lower
level.  She then nodded to the two
remaining team members and tipped her chin
towards the upper level.  They followed
her up the stairwell.  As each door was
opened, one member would go low the other
high.  Together they very effectively
swept the room, looking for any sign of
Agent Mulder or his captors.  They
repeated this procedure for each room they
entered.

"We have Mulder," a voice said into the
headset.  "Send for EMTs now!"

"What's your position?" Scully asked
quickly.

"First floor.  We're at the end of the
hall, on the left," the agent replied.

"I'm on my way," she answered.  She looked
at her team and instructed, "Continue to
sweep this floor for the kidnappers.  They
could still be here, so be careful."

"Yes, sir," they responded in unison.

Scully ran down the stairs and then down
to the end of the hall.

"All clear, Agent Scully," the team member
informed her.

"Thank you," she said. "Where is Mulder?"

She saw him on a small bed, partially
wrapped in a blanket.  There was an empty
syringe laying next to him.  "I have him,
sir. I need those EMTs here STAT," she
demanded.

Scully took off her helmet and bulky
kevlar vest.  She checked Mulder's pulse
and respiration.  He seemed okay.  She saw
a black medical bag and emptied it's
contents out onto the table.  She picked
up the various vials:  Halcion, Ketamine,
Procaine, Morphine and a bottle of Halcion
tablets.  What kind of drug cocktails were
they giving him?

Skinner was standing in the doorway.
"Agent Scully, the EMTs are on their way.
What have you got?"

She shook her head as she continued to
study the labels on the vials.  "I'm not
sure, sir," she said.

Mulder sighed.  "I'm trying to sleep," he
mumbled.

Scully grabbed him by the shoulders and
shook him harshly.  "Mulder, it's me," she
said.  "I need you to wake up now, okay?"
She shook him again, saying, "Come on,
it's time to wake up."

He slowly opened his eyes.  "Scully?" he
whispered.

"He's awake?" Skinner asked.

Scully smiled.  "Yes, sir, I think
everything is  . . . "

The strobe lights above began to flicker.

"No!" yelled Mulder.  His hands went up to
his face, trying to protect his eyes from
the pain the light caused.

Mulder began to convulse.

"Help me!" Scully said to Skinner.

He rushed over to the bed.  "Scully, what
do you want me to do?  I've seen this
before in Vietnam.  Just tell me what you
want me to do."

"Hold his legs down," she ordered.  "I
don't want him to hurt himself."

"Turn that damn light off!" Skinner
shouted.

Someone found the outside controls and
turned it off.

Mulder continued to convulse.

"I turned on that strobe light, Scully,"
Skinner admitted.  "I thought it was the
overhead lights.  I'm sorry."

"You didn't know, sir," she said,
straining to keep Mulder's hands from
hitting her.  She noticed the butterfly
bandage on his forehead.  What happened
here?

"Shh," she whispered as Mulder's body
finally began to relax.  "Shh, it's okay."

Skinner took his hands off Mulder's legs.

"Where?  Where's my dad?" Mulder asked.

Skinner shot Scully a questioning look.

"What did you say?" she asked.  "Can you
sit up?"

He nodded and let her assist him to an
almost upright position.  "Please t . . .
tell my dad, I want to go home now," he
pleaded.

"Agent Mulder, your father . . . " Skinner
began.

"No!" Scully interrupted her boss.  "Don't
say anymore."

"I wanna go home now.  Tell my daddy to
come get me," Fox said, bringing his
knees up to his chin.  Scully saw that he
was shivering.

"Shh, it's all right," she said
soothingly.  "You're going to be just
fine," she reassured him.

"Where's Mr. Cole?  He said he was taking
me to my dad."

"Who's Mr. Cole?" Scully asked gently.

His lower lip began to quiver.  He said in
a small voice, "He knows my momma and he
smokes like my daddy so he's stinky.  He
said he'd take me home."  He leaned into
Scully's shoulder and began to cry.  "Take
me home."

Scully rubbed his back and made soothing
sounds.

The EMTs were about to rush into the room
when Scully announced, "Everyone out,
now!"  Her eyes flashed to Skinner.
"Except for you, sir."

"Whatever you say, Agent Scully," Skinner
said.  He handed her one of the rough
paper towels from the table.

She took it and gave it to Mulder.  "Here
you go," she said.  When he didn't take
it, she dried his tears for him and let
him blow his nose.

"I don't know you," he said to her.  He
looked at Skinner.  "I don't know you
either.  Momma says not to talk to
strangers."  His face tightened up.  "I'm
lost."  He looked at Scully.  "Help me."

"Of course, Fox, I'm here to help you.
Can you tell me what happened before I got
here?" she asked.

Fox leaned on Scully's shoulder, picked up
the gold cross from her neck and held it
for a moment.  He rambled, "I remember I
was lost before and I called the operator
like my momma taught me to do and I asked
the lady to find my dad but Mr. Cole came
instead.  He said he'd take me to my dad
and then we went in his big car and he
said we were almost home and now I'm here
and I'm tired and I want to go home now."
He took in a shaky breath.

Scully let out the breath she was holding.
"How old are you, Fox?" she asked.

He held up four fingers.

She looked up at Skinner and shook her
head.

"Fox, what would you think about taking a
very special ride?"

He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, "What
kinda ride?" he asked.

"Do you know what an ambulance is?" she
asked.

He nodded.  "It's like a fire truck but
for sick people.  I don't wanna to go on
an amboolenz ride, I wanna to go home not
to a hospital.  Please take me home.  You
said I could go home!"  He began to cry
and tucked himself tight into a fetal
position and fell back into the bed.
Facing away from Scully, he said, "I wanna
go home. All my books are home."

"Scully, look behind you," said Skinner.

"What?"  She turned and saw the basket of
toys and books.  She pulled out a
"Paddington the Bear" book and handed it
to Mulder.  "Here, will this help?" she
asked gently.

He lifted his head and took the bright
yellow book eagerly into his arms.
Hugging the book, he turned facing the
wall.

Scully sat on the bed and rubbed his back
in a slow circular motion.  She quieted
her nieces and nephews with this technique
on many nights of baby-sitting duty.

Skinner knelt next to her.  "Should we
sedate him?" he asked.

"I think that would be best," she
whispered.

"Do you know what's happening?" he asked.
"I'd really appreciate some kind of explanation."

She shook her head, saying, "It's hard to
know without getting a tox screen from the
hospital.  My guess is he's in a
hallucinatory state, brought on by his
recent treatments with Dr. Goldstein and
whatever drugs they gave him here."

Skinner nodded.  "What do you need?"

She turned away from her partner and
whispered, "Get an EMT to give me 15 mg of
diazapam.  I'll give it to him IM and
we'll get him to the hospital."

He nodded and left the room to talk with
the EMTs.

"Fox?" she whispered.  He didn't stir,
"Fox, are you awake?"  She stood up and
bent over him to see his face.  He had
cried himself to sleep.

"Sir, get the gurney in here now.  He's
fallen asleep," she said quietly.  "Let's
try to get him into the ambulance without
adding to the drugs already in his
system."

"Agreed," Skinner replied.

They managed to get Mulder onto the gurney
and strap him in without waking him.  The
book dropped with a "thwack!" when the
gurney was lifted.

"What?" Mulder tried to sit up and look
around.

"Everything's going to be okay," Scully
said, as she patted his hand.

"Scully?  Where am I?" he asked.

Scully's eyes brightened.  "Mulder?  How
do you feel?" she said, taking his hand.

He stammered, "I . . . um . . . don't
know, I . . ." he looked around the room
and saw Skinner.  "It was Cancerman.  He
held me captive at Sesame Street," he
said.

"Do you know if you were drugged?"  She
tried not to lead him.

He closed his eyes.  "Yeah, Ketamine,
maybe something else."  He looked into her
clear blue eyes.  "I feel . . . I don't
know . . . Scully."

"It's okay, Mulder.  We'll figure this out
in the hospital," she said, offering a
smile.

He nodded and let himself be taken away.

"Sir!" an agent yelled from down the
hall.

"What is it?" Skinner asked, as he watched
Mulder being carried out of the abandoned
building.

"We found a body in the basement.  Shot
execution style, sir," the agent informed
him.

Skinner frowned.  "Show me," he said.

End Part 12

Part 13

April 21
George Washington University Hospital
3:00 PM

Scully found Mulder asleep in his room
with the TV set on the Cartoon network.
If she didn't know Mulder so well, she
might have worried he had regressed.  But
she did know him and this was
quintessential Mulder.

He was still hooked up to the EEG and ECG.
Considering what he had been through, this
was the wisest course of action.  He
needed to be monitored carefully before he
would be released from the hospital this
time.  She would insist on it.

She opened the chart she had picked up
from the nurses station.  Mulder was on
his last IV of D5W and Flumazemil.  He's
been off seizure meds for 48 hours and
there was no indication of a seizure in
the last 30 hours.  He had eaten most of
his breakfast.  Good, he was getting his
appetite back.  No notations regarding
hallucinations or Mulder waking up
thinking he was a different age.  That's
encouraging, she thought.

He hadn't really talked about what
happened to him yet and she knew better
than to force him.  When he was ready, he
would tell her what had happened.

She found the remote and turned off the
TV.

Mulder stirred.  "Hey, I was watching
that."

"Mulder, are you awake?" she asked.

"Oh, Scully.  Hi.  Yeah, I'm awake," he
said, blinking.

She smiled.  "Hi, yourself."

He turned to face her.  "I was dreaming.
It was the day of my high school
graduation.  Thank God disco is dead," he
joked.

Still smiling, she said, "I can't argue
with you there.  How are you feeling
Mulder?"

He shrugged. "More myself, I guess."

"Good, I guess," she teased.

She handed him a bottle of orange juice.
"Sorry, no iced tea in the vending
machine."

A moment passed and she noticed that he
was staring at the bottle.

"What is it?" she asked.

"They, umm . . . " he licked his lips, and
closed his eyes in concentration.  "I
think I had this in the limo."  He opened
his eyes. "I . . . I can't remember," he
muttered, shaking his head.

"It's okay, the memory will come when
you're ready," she said softly.

He grinned.  "When did you have time to
get a psychology degree, Scully?  Hey,
maybe Skinner will let me see you instead
of one of the Bureau shrinks."

"Ha-ha, Mulder."  She pulled a chair closer
to the bed and sat down.  "This time you will
do whatever you are told.
Understood, mister?"

He raised a hand to his head and gave her
a weak salute. "Aye-Aye sir."

She smiled at the Naval inference.  "I
brought you something."

"Oh?"  He sat up a little straighter.

She got up from the chair and brought out
a wrapped rectangular box that was sitting
at the bottom of his hospital bed.  She
handed him the box, and stood next to him
as he opened it.

He gave her a wry look as the gift was
revealed.  "Scully, you shouldn't have,"
he said, pulling out a Paddington Bear.
He was wearing his raincoat, boots, rain
hat and he even had the tag saying "Take
Care of this Bear."

"It was no problem, Mulder," Scully said.

He leaned toward her and said, "I mean no,
you *shouldn't* have.  Jeez, don't let
anyone see this or they'll really think
I'm *nuts*."  He shook his head.  "I can
imagine the latest 'Spooky' story going
around the office."

Scully laughed.  "Mulder, stop being so
sensitive."

He held the bear in his hands.  "You know,
the one I had as a kid seemed so big.  I
used to sit and read to him for hours."

Scully liked the sweet image that formed
in her mind:  her partner reading to his
teddy bear.

"Thanks, Scully," he said softly.  "This
brings back some good memories."

Smiling, she patted his shoulder gently.
"You're welcome, Fox."

Upon hearing his proper name; he looked up
at her and couldn't help but smile as
well.

The End