#dr. heitz werber

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Lies Lead to the Truth | Pilot (1x01)

He hasn’t really thought about Agent Mulder in a few years. 

Dr. Heitz Werber remembers bits and pieces of that particular regression: a bright light, a levitating girl. Years of unresolved trauma that had manifested in insurmountable guilt. 

When Agent Mulder had summoned him to Washington, he was actually quite surprised to hear from him. The last time they’d spoken, Werber had been incredibly worried about the man’s mental health and well-being. To this day he still isn’t quite sure what happened to his younger sister, not really, but Mulder’s apparent certainty had made Werber feel somewhat responsible.

Before the young profiler walked into his office, Werber had spent his days uncovering long buried childhood traumas of a more earthly nature. Physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, he’d seen it all. But something about bright lights and visitors from another planet had gripped him in a way nothing quite had before. It was science fiction, surely, and yet thousands of people all shared these same experiences over and over again.

Thanks to Fox Mulder, his career path had taken an unexpected turn.

“I’m afraid…” the young abductee mumbles now, his terrified voice echoing around the FBI interrogation room. “I’m afraid they’re coming back.”

Werber clicks his ballpoint. “Don’t be afraid, Billy,” he reassures him. “We’re here to help you."

Read the rest on Ao3 | @admiralty-xfd

[randomfoggytiger]

Unrest, Faulty Memories, and Lost Sisters

It's interesting to think of Gerald Schnauz as a cautionary tale for Mulder-- the dark side of a man who lost a sister, then himself.

PARALLELS

In the Pilot, Mulder details his sister's abduction to Scully:

"In my research, I worked very closely with a man named Dr. Heitz Werber; and he's taken me through deep-regression hypnosis. I've been able to go into my repressed memories the night my sister disappeared."

As a child, he'd repressed what happened the night Samantha was taken; and chalked it up to a mundane, tragic disappearance. Then the Lone Gunmen, Arthur Dales, and the X-Files turned his world upside down.

We later learn that Mulder's father, Bill Mulder (or CSM, according to canon's current interpretation), was a responsible party to Samantha's abduction-- either picking her to ensure her protection (Fight the Future) or becoming the dupe of CSM's swap (Paper Clip and Closure.)

Thus, the parallels to Gerald Schnauz.

Gerald is a schizophrenic whose sister was murdered (taken from him) because of his father. Gerald repressed that memory, muddying his conscious recollection with personal blame.

Scully: "In 1980, you attacked your father with an axe handle...."

Schnauz: "...I was institutionalized. I had a kind of chemical imbalance."

In Mulder's case, he wants the Truth about what happened to his sister; in Gerald's case, he wants to heal the sick and twisted.

Mulder: "It says here you have a sister. Where is your sister, Gerry?"

Schnauz: "She passed."

Mulder: "Actually it says here she committed suicide in 1980."

Both men personalize tragedies that pluck at their traumas; and both men's causes are responsible for Scully's abductions.

Scully's life was "ruined" and she was abducted because of her association with Mulder. Scully was, again, taken and almost killed because of the "unrest" Gerry projected onto her. (On a separate note: The writers of Unruhe were excellent, turning away from the obvious parallel between Schnauz and Mulder to focus on the rancor and vulnerability the case-- medical malpractice against kidnapped women-- would stir in Scully.)

Both men also try to "fix" the mind of the afflicted-- in Gerry's case, other women; in Mulder's case, his own-- with a hole poked or drilled into their gray matter.

Gerald Schnauz believes demons are infecting the minds of his victims, and Fox Mulder believes his own infected memory is holding him back in Demons. They are, alike, driven.

One last interesting thought strikes me.

In the latter half of Mulder's Pilot monologue, he says: "I can recall a bright light outside, and a presence." This, coincidentally, is the last thing Gerry Schnauz sees before he dies.

WHAT IFS, AND DEMONS

But what if Mulder had lost his mind-- given up or given in-- ala Gerald Schnauz?

Well, we get a glimpse of what could have happened in Demons: he blames himself for not recalling, then blames his parents for what happened to his sister, then blames himself, again.

Instead of lashing out and trying to "heal" the world around him, Mulder chooses to self-immolate in his efforts to draw closer to the Truth. To, one could say, wholeness.

CONCLUSION

Did the writers intend these parallels? I don't think so; but you tell me.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (1/8)

This is the sequel to “Of the Eight Winds,” which began from a small simple prompt from Sunflowerdeedsandscience: “Mulder is unhappily married when Scully is partnered with him, and while he doesn't cheat (because sorry that's not romantic), he falls for her so hard that he finally gets the courage to end the marriage and start fresh.” That prompt took on a life of its own that became ‘Of the Eight Winds.’ This fic immediately follows the events of that piece — I would encourage reading it first if you haven’t.

This is not written in the same Rashomon structure as the original — it is absolutely linear. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone.

I’ll be posting the first two chapters today, and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also find it on AO3 here.

PROLOGUE

They say in the heat of the moment, you have five seconds to make a decision. Five seconds between right and wrong. Five seconds between life and death. As Mulder stood watching one gun pointed at his children and another pointed at an immensely pregnant Scully, five seconds seemed an eternity.

XxXxXxXxXxX

6 Months Earlier

She watched the house from the shadows. Occasionally from her car. It was harder to follow the woman as she worked at a secure government facility, but the man was easy. He had a small private psychology practice in a townhouse in Old Town. He usually ate lunch at a Panera near the office or brown bagged it from home.

The kids both attended a private prep school out in McLean. The girl drove herself and her brother most days. The boy would often stay late for sports practice (ice hockey, if the equipment was any indication) and the man would usually pick him up. Their lives were pretty routine.

After two weeks, she finally made an appointment with the man’s scheduling service and waited nervously in the outer office. Right on time, he opened the door.

“Olivia?” Dr. Mulder smiled at her, “come on back.”

She passed him through the doorway and settled into a plush leather couch.

He sat down in a chair across from her and crossed his leg, looking relaxed. Up close, she noticed that his hair was starting to grey at the temples, but he still looked fit, and conveyed an easy manner.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said, trying to calm her nerves.

“Of course,” he said, looking down at his notebook, “I see you were referred to me by Dr. Heitz Werber?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself,” he said.

She took a breath.

“I grew up here in DC. After grad school… My father worked for the State Department and I, uh, went into the family business.”

Dr. Mulder nodded, his expression neutral.

“I can imagine that’s pretty stressful work,” he said.

“It was,” she said, “I don’t do it anymore.”

He nodded again, waiting for her to fill the silence. She went on.

“The work I did… it hurt people. And I’m… I’m trying to make amends.”

His expression gave nothing away. She steeled herself, took a deep breath.

“Dr. Mulder, my name is Olivia Kurtzweil. Our fathers knew each other a long time ago. I’m here to warn you. You and your family are in danger. Your wife and her baby…”

His nostrils flared, but he maintained his composure.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out several pictures.

“I can prove it,” she said, “This is me and my father, this is me and your sister Samantha. And this is our fathers together.”

“I think you need to leave,” he said, his voice tight for the first time. He was not looking at the pictures.  

She rose.

“There’s not a lot of time.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it, set it next to the pictures, which she left on the office’s small coffee table. “Call me at this number. Soon. I’ll tell you all I can.”

With that she left, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER ONE

Arlington Cemetery May 2nd, 2018

Mulder descended the stairs quickly, the leather bottoms of his dress shoes scraping loudly on the dusty grit of the steps. The occupants of the underground lair were the perfect people to call when you needed information, but good housekeepers they were not.

He entered the code on the security box at the door at the bottom of the staircase, and the door swung open.

“Guys?” he called into the cavernous space once the door sealed shut behind him.

“In here!” he heard a muffled call from near the back.

He stepped around gunmetal shelves awash in circuitry and computer parts and turned right into the sanctum sanctorum of the place: the desktop on which sat the AMD Threadripper 3000. Two men were hunched over the screen, one sitting, one standing just behind him.

Grease-stained napkins were wadded up next to the keyboard and crinkled butcher paper sat nearby, sporting the red-splotched remains of marinara sauce and a few errant banana peppers.

“You want a meatball sub, Mulder?” came the nasally voice of the man standing, “We got extra.”

“I don’t relish the thought of being up all night with heartburn, Langly, but thanks,” Mulder said, and Frohike turned from the chair, his wispy hair now more white than grey.

“They’re from Gino’s,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re missing out.”

“Tell that to Gino,” Mulder said, “didn’t he die of a heart attack in ‘04?”

“His wife is still running the place, bursting with health,” Frohike said, and reached for a styrofoam cup.

“But she doesn’t eat the subs,” said Mulder, and swung into a nearby chair. “Where’s Byers?”

“Staying with Suzanne for the weekend,” Langly said, like he couldn’t imagine why.

“Is that safe?” Mulder asked. The Gunmen had been hiding out in a government-built safehouse under their own graves in Arlington Cemetery for more than a decade.

Langly shrugged.

The three men looked at each other for a moment. Finally, Mulder spoke again.

“What did you find?”

“Enough,” said Frohike, turning back to the screen. Mulder stood and walked up behind him.

Frohike tapped a picture on the screen.

“Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, “born December 4th, 1963, daughter of Dr. Alvin Kurtzweil and Ruth O’Brien Kurtzweil. Graduated from Sidwell Friends School in Washington DC in 1981, got a PhD in both Biology and Virology from Boston University in 1987. Employment records get kind of muddled after that, but it would make sense if she worked for the State Department, though what a Biologist/Virologist would be doing for State is troubling.”

Mulder leaned back. It was the same woman who’d been in his office earlier that day.

“And the pictures?” he asked, “of our fathers together? Of her and Samantha?”

“The real McCoy,” Langly said, “they don’t appear to be altered in any way. Sent them to Chuck Burks, too. He concurs.”

Mulder sighed heavily.

“What’s going on, Mulder?” Frohike asked, his tone serious.

“She came to my office today, Olivia Kurtzweil,” he said, nodding at the screen, “she told me that Scully is in danger.”

“In danger?” Langly said, puzzled, “how?”

“Scully is…” Mulder paused, “she’s pregnant,” he said, and he saw both men’s eyebrows go up. “This woman told me that our family... that Scully and the baby are in danger.”

Frohike and Langly traded looks.

“We haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy,” Mulder went on, “and Scully’s OB is an old friend from med school that she trusts implicitly. This Kurtzweil woman knows about the baby and insists it’s in danger. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Firstly,” said Frohike, who stood and put a hand on Mulder’s shoulder, “Mazel tov.” Mulder smiled at him. “Secondly,” he went on, “it appears as though this woman is telling the truth -- at least about who she is -- I would talk to her. See what you can find out.”

“How’s Scully taking this?” Langly asked.

“I haven’t told her yet,” Mulder said, and the boys traded another look. “I didn’t want to scare her without knowing more.”

Frohike squeezed his shoulder again and then let his arm fall.

“Let us know, huh?” he said, “However we can help.”

Mulder nodded and drifted back toward the door, a ball of worry sitting heavy in his gut.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Where are the kids?” he asked as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“I had a good day, thanks for asking,” said Scully with a grin. She was loading the dishwasher and turned to look at him. Her face fell, turning serious. “The kids are upstairs. What’s wrong?”

“I had a patient come in today…” he started, and her features softened. She probably thought it was just empathy for one of his patients, a tough case. “Scully, she showed me a picture of herself as a kid. With Samantha.”

“What?” Scully said, standing up straight, “how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and moved past her and into the living room, making for the bookshelf that held old family photo albums. He pulled one out and skimmed through it. Pulled out another. Halfway through, something caught his eye and he flipped back a couple of pages until he saw it. A picture from the same 70’s-era party at his childhood home on the Vineyard that Olivia had shown him. There was his father standing next to Alvin Kurtzweil, and down in the corner, both wearing swimsuits and gap-toothed smiles, pigtails frizzy and wet, sat Samantha and a 7 year-old Olivia Kurtzweil.

He felt his breath leave him.

Scully had come up quietly behind him, put her hand on his arm.

“Mulder?” she said.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

He pulled the note Olivia had left with him out of his pocket. She picked up on the first ring.

“Olivia, this is Dr. Mulder,” he said. “We need to talk.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

The next morning at 9:00am, they found themselves sitting across their kitchen table from Olivia Kurtzweil, Special Agent Monica Reyes, ASAC John Doggett and Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

Scully was sitting, arms crossed in front of her defensively, at the head of the table. Reyes sat next to her, looking at Kurtzweil with an equal amount of curiosity and distrust. Doggett was too amped up to sit and paced through their kitchen. Skinner sat, quiet and still, looking as menacing as ever at the far end of the table.

Mulder felt a certain odd protectiveness toward Olivia, and couldn’t help but treat her a bit like a patient.

“Olivia,” he said calmly, “why don’t you start at the beginning.”

The tale she spun was as fantastic as anything they’d ever heard in their years on the X-Files. Olivia had been groomed from childhood to work on what she called “The Project.” When Samantha Mulder had been abducted, The Project had used her DNA to create alien-human hybrids. Throughout the years, these hybrids had been used by different factions of The Project to further their agendas in relation to a colonization project that Olivia said once threatened the world. She had fought with others to bring it down and now, The Project’s last ditch effort to resurrect itself lay in the cells of the child Scully was carrying.

“How was my father involved?” Mulder said, his voice like ice.

“Your father did everything he could to protect you and your sister,” Olivia said after a pause. “He was the person I initially approached when I became disenchanted. He and I worked together for years dismantling everything we could.”

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.

“You were at my father’s funeral a couple years ago,” he said, recognition dawning on him, “I saw you at his wake.”

Olivia nodded.

“He couldn’t save your sister,” she said, “but he saved you. And in the end, he saved me.”

“My sister,” Mulder said, his stomach feeling as though it were in his feet, “is she alive?”

“No,” Olivia said, “I’m so sorry. And that’s the problem. Your sister’s DNA was the only one that was able to create viable hybrids. Her DNA was the key. And the last living hybrid sacrificed herself before a rogue faction could get her. That rogue faction is after Scully and your baby for the DNA markers particular to your family.”

“Then why aren’t they after me?”

“The particular markers they’re looking for are rendered dormant after a baby is born. The genetic material they can use is only found in--”

Scully spoke for the first time, finishing Olivia’s explanation. “Embryonic stem cells from our baby.”

Olivia looked pained and nodded. “It’s their last, best hope for restarting the program,” she said.

“How do they even know about the pregnancy? We haven’t told a soul.”

“A hack on your medical records is my guess. HIPAA means nothing to these people.”

“I’m less concerned with the how and more concerned with the why,” Mulder said. “You say embryonic cells. That means they’re on a clock, right? Once the baby is born...”

“Destroy the umbilical cord. The placenta. Those cells are only found in a few places. Destroy anything they might be able to use. After that… you and your baby will be safe.”

“So no one else in our family is in danger?” Scully asked. Her eyes darted unconsciously to a family picture that was framed on the wall above Olivia. It was a candid photo, taken the year before when they had hired a photographer to take Lily’s senior portraits. In it, Mulder and Scully were holding hands, looking at their two kids who were laughing about something Will had said. They were all smiling and carefree. In the moment, it felt like a world away.

“I know the technology and the biology it draws from,” Olivia said, “I helped design it. Their only hope is getting their hands on the embryonic stem cells from your baby. If you were planning on getting an amniocentesis test -- don’t.”

“Why not?” Skinner asked, “why not just give them what they want?”

“Because they’ll never stop,” Reyes said.

Olivia shook her head sadly. “She’s right. They take and they take, and they don’t care who gets hurt or what is lost.” She looked to Mulder. “Your father and I worked for years to shut it down. Finish it. Hide your wife. Protect your baby. Once it’s born, you should all be out of danger.”

“Tell me about this rogue faction,” Doggett’s voice coming from the corner of the kitchen startled everyone.

“Mercs for hire,” Olivia said, “Only one of them that I know of is familiar with the working pieces of The Project. I don’t know him well. I only ever saw him in the periphery.”

“Do you have a name?” Doggett asked.

“I doubt it’s his real one,” Olivia said.

“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” said Reyes, who shot a look to Doggett.

“I only ever heard him called ‘Krycek,’” she said.

Mulder felt his gut drop.

XxX

“What do you think?” Mulder asked Scully, as they sat together around their empty dining room table. Doggett, Reyes and Skinner had left and it was nearly noon, the sun bright outside their windows. Nevertheless, the room felt cold. Mulder could feel anxiety press on him from all sides as though he were under water.

“I don’t know what to think,” Scully said, a hand resting unconsciously on her stomach, which had just started to push out. “Mulder, for almost fifteen years our lives have been ordinary, calm. After all this time…? It strains credulity.”

“Scully I would agree with you. But… some of the things we saw when we were on the X-Files… We know credible threats. This feels like a credible threat.”

“Do you really believe everything she said? About your sister?” He could see her skeptical reserve crumbling.

Mulder let that question sit in the air for several long moments. “Just tell me if the science checks out,” he finally said.

Scully huffed an almost amused sigh. “I couldn’t even begin to-” she started.

“Scully, you yourself were filling in the blanks of Olivia’s story. If what she says is true, does the science check out?”

Scully gave him a long look. “Yes,” she finally said.

He held her gaze, a feeling of overwhelming affection coming over him. “Scully,” he said quietly, “we have to get you somewhere safe.”

She looked down, added another hand to her abdomen so she was cradling it with both. On the countertop, there was a half drunk bottle of Deer Park and a single yellowing banana. Someone had left their iPhone headphones sitting in a semi-coiled loop, and there were crumbs in front of the toaster, dishes in the sink. They sat in the middle of a half-lived life.

“I won’t leave without you,” she finally said, “without you and the kids. We all do this together. If the threat is really what Kurtzweil says it is, I couldn’t bear the thought of them trying to use you or the kids to get to me.”

Mulder nodded curtly.

“I’ll go to the guys,” he said, “see what they can do for us. Skinner and Doggett and Reyes will do what they can to protect us, but I think given everything we’ve heard, it’s best to avoid… governmental oversight.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Scully said.

“We need to leave soon. We can’t wait.”

Apgar jumped on the table then, looking for affection. Scully, who normally wouldn’t tolerate a cat on any eating surface, reached out and pet the cat absently, her eyes far away.

“Where are we even going to go?” she asked.

[mldrgrl]

omg your little plot to the red shoe gif... i need them making out in the pilot and then continue what you said... please write it 😨🥵😍

Reckless

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13

Referenced post here

“Mosquito bites,” he says.

“What?”

“They’re mosquito bites.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I got eaten alive out there myself.”

The rising panic she’s been feeling turns to relief and she’s flooded with a release of adrenaline.  She fumbles with her robe, hastily drawing it back up over her shoulders and pulling the knot closed with shaking hands.  She turns without thinking, throwing her arms around him in gratitude so forcefully she feels him stumble backwards, but then one of his arms comes around her shoulders and he holds her back, albeit very loosely.

“You’re shaking,” he says, and rubs the side of her arm.

“I’m just...cold,” she lies, through gritted teeth.

He leans into her, stretching his arm out to place the candle he’s holding onto the table beside them and then he wraps both his arms around her.  She’s embarrassed by how nice it feels to be held by him and then chastises herself for her weakness.  Don’t do it, she tells herself.  Not another coworker.  Not another superior.  She pulls away from him, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says.  

“For what?”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.  I’m not qualified.”

Oh god, she thinks.  Stop talking.  Just shut up, Dana.  She braces herself to be condescended to.  She doesn’t know if it’s all men, or just her luck that the men she’s had experiences with all have a terrible knack for making her feel even more inferior when she’s at her most vulnerable.  And Mulder would have every right.  She’s a liability, not an asset.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he says.  

He guides her to the bed with a gentle grasp on her elbow and sits her down.  He unfolds the blanket at the end and drapes it over her shoulders like a cape.  She pulls it closed around her like it will protect her somehow.  He crouches in front of her and tips his head to the side.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks.  “A glass of water?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“What is it you think you’re not cut out for here?”

“I’m not a field agent.  I’m a medical doctor.  A pathologist.”

“And a damn good one, from what I’ve seen.”  

“How would you know that?”

He shrugs.  “Your reports are easily accessible in the database.  I read a few.  Very thorough and you have an eye for detail.”

“It’s not doing me a lot of good here.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know what you think of me, Mulder, but I was given this assignment to find answers and all I’ve found are questions.”

He nods.  “And?”

“Don’t you want answers?”

“Of course I do.  But, the x-files are about asking the questions that no one else will.  And sometimes that’s more important than just getting answers.”  

She stares at him with two simultaneous realizations.  He’s completely serious, for one.  And despite the hoops he’s made her jump through, he never once tried to discourage her from doing her job.

“Look, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time,” he says, as though he can read her thoughts.  “But, these files are important to me and I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“I want to help you.”

“Do you?”

There’s something in his tone that she can’t grasp.  He doesn’t believe her, but he wants to believe.  Almost earnestly.  It kickstarts her heart a bit.  She wants to say something reassuring, but doesn’t know what that would be.  

A loud crack of thunder like a gunshot makes her jump and tense.  Mulder squeezes her knee once and moves to stand, but she covers his hand and even though she knows she shouldn’t, she pulls him into her and kisses him.  It isn’t passionate, but it isn’t abrupt or awkward either.  It’s surprising, but warm and soft.  He pulls back and doesn’t say anything, but she can tell he’s thinking what she’s thinking.  This is wrong, we shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.  I don’t want to stop.

He kisses her this time and the blanket falls from her shoulders as she opens her arms to him.  She brings him down to the bed with her as she lays back.  He hovers above her, one knee on the bed, but still standing.  He’s got one hand pressed down next to her head and the other cupping her face, stroking her cheek as he kisses her.  It’s not enough.  There’s something magnetic about him.  As close as he is, she still wants him closer.  Her body is crying out for his touch.

Everything happens so very fast and she knows it has to be this way for if they stop to think about it, they’ll just stop.  But, that is not an option.  She pushes his shirt off and he unknots her robe and she unbuckles his belt and still there are just too many clothes and she can’t get enough.  They’re both being so reckless and irresponsible and she tries to care, but she just doesn’t.  She only regrets that they don’t even make an attempt at slowing down.

“Oh, god,” is all she can say.  He whispers her name over and over.  Scully, Scully, Scully.  Yes, her body sings in response.  Yes, yes, yes.

Now, they’re both trembling and the rain hasn’t even had time to subside.  Mulder retreats almost immediately, rolling away from her and hunching over the side of the bed.  She still feels too liquid to move, but he’s up and pulling his boxer shorts on and heading to the bathroom.  She forces her limbs to work, to push her upright and to bring the sheet up over her body.  She doesn’t know where her robe is, or her underwear.  She’s leaning over, patting the floor with one hand and holding the sheet to her chest with the other, when Mulder comes back out.  He sets a glass of water on the nightstand and hands her a warm, damp washcloth.  

Discreetly, she cleans herself up and watches Mulder flop down in the chair by the window.  He puts his head in his hands and braces his elbows on his knees.  Her gut twinges in remorse as she takes a sip of water.

“I was twelve and my sister was eight,” he says.  “When she disappeared.  My parents were at the neighbor’s and I was supposed to be in charge.  We were arguing over what to watch on TV one minute and then she was just...gone.”

“Gone?”

“I struggled for a long time trying to remember what happened.  They found me passed out on the floor next to the lockbox where my father kept his gun.  And Samantha was just...gone.”

“You never found her?”

He shakes his head.  “There was no evidence, no note, no nothing.  And no one would talk about it.  It tore the family apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Eventually, I went to school in England.  I came back and got recruited by the bureau.  It seems I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases.”

“I’ve read your monograph on Monte Propps.  We studied it, actually, in the academy.”

Mulder snorts a little and rubs his face with both hands.  “My success, ironically, is what first gave me the freedom to pursue my own interests.  That’s when I stumbled on the x-files.”

“You found them by accident?”

“At first, it looked like a garbage dump for UFO sightings, alien abduction reports, the kind of stuff that most people laugh at as being ridiculous, but I was fascinated. I read all the cases I could get my hands on.  Hundreds of them. I read everything I could about paranormal phenomenon, the occult, and…”

“And what?”

“There's classified government information I've been trying to access, but someone has been blocking my attempts to get at it.”

“Who?”

“Someone at a higher level of power. The only reason I've been allowed to continue with my work is because I've made connections in congress.”

“Why would they block your attempts?  Are they afraid you’ll leak the information?”

He looks up at her and steeples his fingers, resting his chin upon them.  “You’re part of that agenda.”

“I’m not part of any agenda.  I told you, I’m-”

“You are, you just don’t know it.”

“That can’t be true.  It’s just not possible.”

“I'm telling you this, Scully, because you need to know.  Because of what you've seen. In my research, I've worked very closely with a man named Dr. Heitz Werber and he's taken me through deep regression hypnosis. I've been able to go into my own repressed memories to the night my sister disappeared.  I can recall a bright light outside and a presence in the room.  I was paralyzed, unable to respond to my sister's calls for help.”

“What are you saying, Mulder?”

“We are not alone.  The government knows it and I need to know why they’re hiding it.  Nothing else matters to me and this is as close as I’ve gotten.”  He drops his head back into his hands and scrubs hard at his face.  When he looks up at her again, his eyes are red and wet.  “I don’t ever talk about this with anyone.”

With the sheet wrapped around her, Scully gets up and moves to him.  He slumps back into the chair with a sigh and she sits across his lap, putting her arm around him.  He looks up at her wearily and she brushes the hair off his forehead before she places her lips to his brow.

“I want to help you find the answers,” she says.

“I know you do.”

She tips her head at him in question and he pushes the sheet off of her shoulder to run his hand down her back.  His fingertips brush over the marks on her lower back, tingling where he touches her.

“You believed me,” he says.  “No one else ever has.”

She stares at his face, wanting to protest, but it’s true.  She felt those marks and in that moment, she believed what she knows is impossible.  Her eyes fall to his mouth and she strokes his jaw, thumb grazing the mole at the back of his cheek.  She wants to kiss him again, but take her time with it.  The power is still out and they have all night.

The phone at Mulder’s nightstand rings and they both tense.  On the fifth ring, Mulder eases Scully from his lap and she slips into the chair as he gets up to answer.  He rubs the back of his neck as he barks a greeting.

“What?” he says.  “Who is this?  How did-hello?”

“Who was it?” she asks, when he hangs up.

“I don’t know.  A woman.  She said that Peggy O’Dell is dead.”

“The girl in the wheelchair?”

“Unless there’s some other Peggy O’Dell I don’t know about.”

Scully stands and spots her robe on the floor, along with her underwear.  She picks them up and clutches them against her chest with the sheet.  Mulder looks away and then brushes past her towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get dressed,” he says.

“I’ll...meet you back here when I’m done?”

“Okay.”

“Mulder?”

He stops in the door to the bathroom, but doesn’t look back.

“Should we talk about...this?” she asks, gesturing back and forth in the space between them.

“Maybe when the case is over.  I can’t really...afford to be distracted right now.  You understand?”

“I do.”  She nods, but feels a pang of disappointment.

“Good.”

She pulls her robe back on, stuffs her underwear in the pockets, and leaves the sheet on the floor before she heads back to her room.

The End