Note: I started this in 1995. It's doesn't go past season two.
So, No Spoilers, no cancer, no black oily worm thingys.

Categories:
S
A
UST
Rated PG

Summary: Mulder's is the only person who can tell Skinner
where to find Scully--but he can't remember anything about
his life.

Disclaimer: Not intended to infringe on any copyrights.
All characters except Angie and her family, Grace and the
hospital staff are of my creation, everything else belongs to
10-13 Productions and FOX. And I'm not a psychologist,
but I end up talking to lots of them from time to time
<VEG> so don't flame me if all this is totally bogus.

EMXC disclaimer and restrictions apply.

Archivists, just keep my name attached :)

Comments to me, vmoseley@fgi.net. I love mail.

Dedicated to the new Mr. and Mrs. Duchovny.
Congratualtions, David and Tea. May you have much
happiness for all the years to come.

Something to Remember 1/3
By Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net


Verilli Residence
Potomac, Maryland
May 6, 1995 2:57 pm

Angela Verilli sat on the steps to her deck and watched
her sons and daughter throw maple seeds in the wind.
'Flying helicopters', that's the name of the game, or had
been when she was a little girl in the Midwest. She was
thrilled that the 5 acres of land she and her husband had
purchased in Suburban Washington, DC had trees that she
recognized. It made the house seem more like a home
from the very start. And the part she loved about this house
the most was lazy afternoons in the backyard.

Her comfortable afternoon was not to last, however.
She suddenly felt a tingling in her pocket. <Damn! When
did I put that damn pager in my pocket?> she wondered, a
scowl crossing her face almost at the same instant that the
gentle breeze blew her honey blond hair across her eyes.
Somewhat annoyed, she brushed the hair from her eyes and
pulled the pager out of her pocket with the same smooth,
fluid motion. It was an activity she was too well versed in.

As she got up to go back into the house and get the
cordless phone, she checked the number that had
interrupted her Saturday. She stopped in her tracks. It
wasn't the University. It was an unfamiliar number, except
for the prefix. She was fairly certain it was a government
number. She dialed the number, identified herself and
waited for her message. Sure enough, the little contract she
had agreed to almost three years before was finally being
called upon. She sighed. <Guess you can't expect Uncle
Sam to keep paying you a retainer just as an insurance
policy.> It was time to earn her keep.

Her little fiat spider seemed to eat up the miles on the
Rockville Pike. She was doing her level best to keep
within the proscribed speed limit, but the little red car
never seemed to want to be law abiding. She was
somewhat relieved that no Maryland State Patrols were out
on the stretch this afternoon and smiled guiltily as she
waved to the guards at the gate to Bethesda Naval Medical
Center. Ordinarily she would have slowed down and been
sociable, but she had been told to hurry, and from the wave
she had received from the guard who recognized her, the
message had made it to the gate, as well. She pulled into a
'visitors' spot and ran up the stone walk to the double glass
doors.

Once inside, she headed for the information desk, but
someone caught her elbow and spun her around. "Angie,
he's upstairs," said Grace Millikin, a nurse she had met on
other visits to the hospital. Angie smiled and followed
Grace to the elevators.

"Got any idea what this is all about, Gracie," Angie
asked as the elevator doors closed and they started their
ascent.

"I just work here, Ang, you know that," Grace said with
a sly smile. "But I can tell you this. The guy's FBI and the
place is crawling with them. I think one of the suits up
there is an Assistant Director, no less," she said, batting her
eyelids for effect.

Angie thought for a moment. "Is the 'suit' named
Skinner?" she asked. Grace nodded in the affirmative. "I
know him," Angie said thoughtfully. "Did his last
evaluation, as a matter of fact."

"I thought they had their own shrinks," Grace said,
somewhat surprised.

"They do, but the higher ups get evaluated by somebody
outside the Bureau. That way, you avoid possible, ah, shall
we say 'retaliation' if something turns up that isn't
appreciated."

"Is he as mean as he looks?" Grace asked, seriously.

"Now, Grace, you know that's confidential!" Angie said
lightly. "I don't think anyone has accused him of
cannibalism, if that puts your mind at ease," she laughed.

The elevator doors opened and Angie and Grace were
met by the steely glare of Assistant Director Walter
Skinner. Skinner, however, didn't look a whole lot like
Angie remembered him. He had discarded his suitcoat and
had his sleeves rolled around his forearms. His tie was
askew and his top button unbuttoned. He needed a shave,
and about 24 hours of sleep, if Angie guessed right. He
gave her a curt nod as she stepped up to him. "Dr. Verilli,
sorry for the call on a Saturday, but we needed your
opinion quickly. Right this way."

"Hello to you, too, Walter," Angie murmured under her
breath as she followed him. Maybe people wouldn't be so
put off by government types if they weren't all so darn
intense, she had theorized when they first moved to DC.
Skinner was a poster child for intense.

Skinner led her to a small waiting room that had a
couple of chairs, a table and a phone. From the files on the
table and the half empty coffee cups, Angie ascertained
that this had become FBI - Bethesda during the last couple
of days. This only served to fire her already inflamed
curiosity. "Walter, I didn't spend three years at Quanitco.
Would you mind telling this simple-minded civilian what
this is all about?" He responded by handing her a file.

While she read through the pages, he watched her in
silence. When she looked up at him, he spoke. "The
patient is Special Agent Fox Mulder. His is with the
Behavioral Sciences Section, but officially, he is head of
the X Files Project. Five days ago, he and his partner,
Agent Dana Scully were on a stakeout in Suburban
Maryland. When their relief showed up at 6:00 that
morning, the car was vacant, no sign of either agent. An
immediate search was initiated. Twenty four hours ago,
Agent Mulder was found unconscious along a road leading
to the old lock house on the B&O canal. He was brought
here. As you can see, his injuries were serious and he
remained unconscious until this morning about 10:00."

"The problem is this. When Agent Mulder regained
consciousness, he had lost all memory of his life. Not just
the last few weeks, or even the last few months, but his
entire life. He has no memory of the FBI, his partner, hell,
he can't even remember what state he was born in. But I
am convinced that Agent Mulder does know where Agent
Scully is. He is the only one who would know. And he is
her only hope, if we are to find her, alive. The reason we
called you in, Dr. Verilli, is because you are on contract
with the Federal Government to treat severe amnesia in
security sensitive individuals. It is our understanding that
your work in the area qualifies you to work with Agent
Mulder and get his memories back, in time to find Agent
Scully." Skinner had been standing, but now, he sat down,
and his expression softened. "Quite frankly, Angie," he
said softly, "I really need you on this. This is important to
me, for a lot of reasons."

Angie looked back through the file. "Mulder. Now why
does that name sound familiar to me? Wait a minute,
Walter. . .this isn't 'Spooky' Mulder, is it?" she asked.

Skinner bristled at the nickname. "Yeah, have you
heard of him?" he asked suspiciously.

"Heard of him? I was on a panel with him once. He's a
brilliant psychologist. He should be in clinical, not
bumping around Maryland on stakeouts," she groused.
"Walter, if this is Fox Mulder, there's more to this than
simple amnesia, isn't there?" Now it was Angie's turn to be
suspicious.

Skinner picked up another file, this one much thicker.
"Mulder is a bit, well, extreme, I will admit. This is his
medical/psych file. It's a bit much to wade through, but I
can highlight some things that I think might be relevant.
Now, remember Angie, I'm not a shrink and I make no
apologies for that. But I have been through enough
evaluations of agents to know potential landmines. Mulder
has been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
delayed onset from something that happened in his early
adolescence. He has frequent nightmares. You mention
that he should be a clinical psychologist, and I bet he would
probably agree with you. Except his younger sister was
abducted when he was 12 and he has been obsessed with
that tragedy ever since."

Skinner got up and started to walk around the room
while Angie quickly reviewed the medical file. "You'll
note that Mulder has undergone therapy a few times in his
life and he has undergone hypnotic regression. He has
become convinced that his sister was taken by. . ." Skinner
hesitated, shook his head and continued, "taken by
extraterrestrials." He watched Angie closely for her
reaction.

"Like on 'ET'?" she asked, completely taken by surprise.

"It's not very funny to Mulder, Angie. He was 12 at the
time, and he feels responsible for his sister's abduction.
Anyway, that was bad enough, but a few things have
happened recently that might have added to his emotional
baggage. Several months ago, he and his partner were
reassigned. They were split up and Mulder ended up, well,
basically on the Bureau's shit list. I had him doing wiretap
surveillance."

"You had an Oxford educated doctor of psychology
doing *wiretap*, Walter! Who cuts your hair, Janet
Renno?" Angie interrupted.

"Look, Angie, I wasn't proud of that time," Skinner
growled. "I was getting orders as well as giving them, got
it! Anyway, it was to bring Mulder in line. It's worked
before. But before I could start bringing him up the ladder
again, he was involved in a hostage situation. The incident
ended with only one hostage injured, but the nutcase in
question escaped detention and kidnapped Mulder's
partner. She remained missing for three months."

"Mulder about went off the deep end looking for her.
His obsessive behavior was the only thing that kept him
from killing himself, even I could see that. I reassigned
him back to his old project, basically reinstated him. The
next few cases he handled he did exemplary work on. It
was like he was back, but his health was another matter.
He never slept, he hardly ate. When Agent Scully
mysteriously turned up in a local hospital in a coma, I think
I was pretty close to getting Mulder a bed in the ward next
to her. But she recovered, he seemed to recover and
everything was back to normal, or as normal as those two
ever have it."

"Most recently, about 4 months ago, as a matter of fact,
Mulder was contacted by a young woman claiming to be
his sister," Skinner continued.

"The one who was abducted," Angie asked. She had
started writing the whole story down in her planner.

"Yes, Samantha. Then, some *killer*, I'm not really
sure and I've read the field reports, kidnapped Scully and
offered her in trade for Samantha."

"Mulder was forced to choose between his partner and
his long lost sister. What, was this guy born under a black
star?" Angie interjected.

"I had a sharpshooter at the rendezvous point. We
thought we got the guy, Scully was safe, but when the killer
fell off the bridge, he took Mulder's sister with him. We
pulled her body out of the river the next day." Skinner was
half expecting another interjection, but Angie surprised
him with her silence. Secretly, she was almost in
sympathetic shock for this man who would soon be her
patient.

"Mulder took some time off, and promptly disappeared.
He tracked the killer down to a dead in the water sub in the
Arctic Circle. Navy recon found Mulder, half frozen on the
ice and just barely alive. He had been exposed to a
previously unknown virus that almost killed him before the
hypothermia set in and kept it in check. Agent Scully
supervised his treatment and he recovered." He noticed
Angie's quizzical glance up. "Agent Scully is a medical
doctor. She's a forensics' specialist."

Skinner took a deep breath and looked across at Angie.
"Quite frankly, I didn't think there was anything left that
could possible happen to these two. Obviously, I was
wrong," he concluded, glumly.

Angie said nothing for a moment. Then she slowly
closed her planner and looked up at Skinner. "So, Walter,
how much time do you figure I have?"

"They disappeared five days ago. Mulder was severely
beaten, broken bones and severe internal bruising, he was
dehydrated, too. Of course there is no way of knowing how
or when he escaped his captors. But judging by his
condition, Scully is probably getting the shit kicked out of
her. I figure we have 24 hours."

Angie gasped. "Walter! That's impossible. You expect
me to cure this guy in 24 hours? Amnesia victims can take
months to recover memories, years, sometimes. You can't
squeeze memories out of him like toothpaste from a tube.
He has to remember them, himself. I'm sorry, Walter. I
hope you have a plan B, because Plan A sucks!" Angie had
decided sugar coating would accomplish nothing at this
point. Besides, Skinner sure didn't seem the sugary type.

"Dr. Verilli, you are on contract with the Federal
Government," Skinner intoned through clenched teeth. "A
contract for which you have been well paid for three years
now with damn little participation on your part! I realize
this might be a bit of a tall order, but this is what you
signed on for, whether you knew it or not at the time. And
I expect results." His steel grey eyes bore holes right
through her.

end of part one of three

Something to Remember 2/3
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

Angie sat back, stunned. She had a very tight feeling in her
throat, like the times she had walked into class without her notes
and discovered an oral exam was on the docket. She took a couple
of deep breaths and slowly stood up. She narrowed her eyes and
stood directly in front of Skinner. In a very controlled motion, she
reached up and poked the Assistant Director of the FBI in the
chest. "Look, Walter, you are messing with this guy's mind! And
you are right, you aren't a shrink. You have no idea what you are
asking. Since I see no mention of severe head trauma in the most
recent medical report, I can only assume that Mulder is using this
amnesia as a defensive mechanism. You try to pull those memories
out of him and you are very likely to get a very undesirable result:
a complete vegetable who used to be a brilliant agent. I signed on
to help people, not scramble their brains when it was expedient and
damn the consequences. I have no intention of participating in the
murder of a brilliant mind. And you can tell that to the goddam
frigging President, for all I care!" She turned and started out the
door. Skinner didn't even have to reach to grab her elbow.

"Angie," he said. He was pleading. "Look, I may have been out
of line, just now. But think of it this way. Mulder has already
shown that Scully means more to him than his own life. What
happens if he gets his memory back only to find out he was too late.
He could have saved her, but he didn't. Then I wouldn't have a
vegetable, I'd have a suicide. Either way, I lose two very valuable
agents. . .two very special people," he added quietly. "Please,
Angie, at least give it a try. That's all I'm asking, really. Just try."

Angie pulled her elbow out of his grasp. She looked him
directly in the eye, and saw fear. <You have the word 'sucker'
tattooed on your forehead, Verilli!> she chided herself. "OK,
Walter, I'll try," Angie said evenly. "I can't guarantee the results,
but if I can at least get a description of where he was held, you'll be
further along than you are now, I guess. But my first and foremost
concern is Fox Mulder. I will not push if I think he's being
damaged any further. I refuse to leave him a head of cabbage, are
we perfectly clear on this?" Skinner merely nodded in agreement.

Angie spent a few minutes talking to Mulder's physician. He
had sustained a compound fracture of both bones in his left
forearm, three broken ribs and bruising to many vital organs. It
was pretty obvious that he had been kicked, and probably by more
than one person at a time. Surprisingly enough, although he had
cuts and bruises on his head and face, there was no skull fracture
and, thankfully, no concussion. The length of unconsciousness was
atypical for the nature of his injuries, but not totally unrelated,
judging from the amount of pain the injuries would cause.
Whoever had worked him over, wanted him to remember them for
a long, long time.

After her conversation, Angie found a phone and called her
husband. There was no answer at home, so she left a message.
"Jack, it's good old Uncle Sam who called. I may be here the night.
Kiss the kids for me, and don't forget to put the medicine on
Patrick's face. I love you. I'll call when I can." She glanced at her
watch and realized that it was dinner time. Her family had probably
gone down the road for pizza, her husband's idea of *making
dinner*. Her own stomach growled loudly, but she ignored it.
She'd eat tomorrow.

Agent Mulder was in a private room. Two plainclothes
policemen stood guard, she assumed they were FBI. She smiled
brightly at them, held up her temporary ID badge and they opened
the door for her. She was surprised to see a middle aged woman
sitting on a chair next to the patient's bed. "Hello," Angie said
cautiously. "I'm Dr. Angela Verilli. I'm a psychologist specializing
in amnesia and I've been called in to consult on this case." She
extended her hand to the woman. "Are you Mrs. Mulder?"

The woman smiled and looked a little confused. "No, no, I'm
not his mother," she said shaking her head. "Well, not officially,
anyway. I'm Maggie Scully. My daughter and Fox are partners."

Angie flipped through the chart she had carried in. On the line
'next of kin' was listed Dana Scully, on the next line was listed
Margaret Scully, secondary. Angie could find no reference to
anyone that might actually be related to Mulder. It occurred to her
that she had just lost an ace, a family member who could be here
while she worked with the patient. Ah well, this case couldn't get
any worse, so everything from that moment on would have to be
for the better, she decided.

"Mrs. Scully, why don't you get a cup of coffee. I'd like to
speak with Agent Mulder for a minute, if you don't mind."

The patient, Agent Mulder reached over and grabbed Maggie
Scully's hand tightly. "I want her to stay," he said firmly.

Angie was a bit surprised by the display. "Agent Mulder, do
you remember Mrs. Scully?" Angie asked quickly.

Agent Mulder looked at Maggie and closed his eyes for a
moment. "No. Not really," he said quietly. "But I know she's
someone I can trust. I want her here."

"Well, how about if she just gets some coffee and comes right
back, after I've had a chance to talk to you, OK?" Angie asked.
She was speaking softly, gently, like she did with her own children
when they were ill. After he took a moment to consider this, he
nodded. Maggie squeezed his hand and left the room.

"Agent Mulder, you and I have met before. I was on a panel
with you about two years ago at Georgetown University. The topic
was deviant behavior. I was very impressed with you," Angie said,
smiling and getting comfortable in the chair. "I understand you are
having trouble remembering. I'm here to help you."

"I've read your work," he said, shifting in his bed to look at her
directly. "I mentioned to, ah, Skinner, " he said the name like it was
foreign to him, "that you would be the best person to address this
situation."

"Then you do remember something? How much do you
remember?" Angie asked, flipping to a blank page in her book and
starting to write.

"Everything I've read, mostly. I remember my texts from
college. I can quote them, actually. But I can't remember my
name, the names of my family. I can remember the year, the month,
the day, but I don't remember my partner. I remember nothing that
is personal. All I remember are facts, objective, impersonal. I have
no idea where I have been, how I broke my arm, got hurt." He shut
his eyes tight, trying with all his might to force the memories to
come back to him. "They are there, just under the surface, you
know. I can feel them. They hurt, they're so close, you know."

Angie sat for a while, considering her patient. "If you remember
your coursework, you probably have an idea why you can't
remember, don't you?"

Mulder smiled. "Is this where you say 'Physician, heal thyself?"
he asked.

Angie bit back a grin. "I think that would be a little deceitful,
since I've already spent my retainer this month. How about if we
heal you together? I mean, two great psychologists, putting their
minds together, now that's a winning combination. So, do you
have a hypothesis, Dr. Mulder?"

"I suspect it's a defensive response to whatever occurred during
my captivity. I also think it might be aggravated by my PTSS," he
said and took note of her quizzical gaze. "I had Mrs. Scully show
me the chart. I have no memory of having PTSS and I can't tell you
what event caused the trauma. I'm just convinced that it probably
has some bearing on this case."

"I concur," Angie responded. "But if it is a defense mechanism,
I'm hesitant to disturb it. You are aware of the danger here?"

"I don't like the thought of me ending up on the produce aisle
any more than you do, Dr. Verilli. I've been apprised of the
circumstances involving my partner, however. My instincts tell me
that I am the key to finding her. I may not remember her, but that
doesn't mean I won't at some point. I do remember that I trust her.
Just like I remember that I trust her mother. Quite frankly, the two
of them are the only people I've met today that I can say that about.
. .including you." He didn't avert his eyes from her as he gave her a
defiant glare.

"I grow on people, Dr. Mulder. Just give me time. It took my
husband three years to propose and we've been married 14 years
now. But getting back to the case, you say you remember that you
trust your partner. How is that?"

"I can't say. When I came to, and Mrs. Scully was trying to help
me remember, she showed me a picture of Agent Scully. I didn't
recognize her, but the word *trust* just popped into my head. I
associated with her, but not like a real memory. It was more of a
definition than a memory."

"Have you had any more of these associations?" Angie asked,
writing furiously.

"Yes. When the Assistant Director came into the room, the
word 'caution' popped into my head. I don't trust him. I have no
idea why, he is apparently my superior, but I am certain that we
don't get along. We don't see eye to eye."

"This all seems to fit into the defensive response hypothesis.
You might be suppressing the actual memories, but you are
keeping the relevant information. Maybe we can use that to our
advantage," Angie said, smiling. There was a knock on the door
and Maggie Scully stuck her head into the room.

"The nurse said it's time for Fox' pain medication," she said
sheepishly. Angie motioned for her to come in and pulled another
chair up beside the bed. The nurse followed her in, carrying a
hypodermic syringe.

"No pain medication." Mulder announced in a tone that broke
no further discussion. "I'm not able to think as it is."

"Agent Mulder," the nurse said soothingly, trying to calm him
down, "this is just to take the edge off the pain. It shouldn't make
you sleepy. It will only help you relax." By the look on his face, he
was not to be deterred.

"Fox," Angie interrupted, "are you in pain?"

Mulder refused to take his eyes off the nurse, or her needle.
"Not that much," he said through clenched teeth. Angie looked at
his fists and the muscles in his neck and knew he was lying.

"Can I at least check your vitals?" the nurse asked. It was
obvious from her tone that the answer had better be yes. He didn't
say a word, only nodded. She took his temperature, checked his
pulse and blood pressure. She looked at his fingers, just visible
beyond the white gauze bandage wrapping his left arm. She
examined the IV shunt and the antibiotic drip. Finally convinced
that he was as good as he was going to get in his condition, she
picked up the hypodermic and left the room.

"I take it you don't favor drug therapy, Dr. Mulder," Angie said
quietly.

"I guess not. I prefer hypnosis." He closed his eyes, his was
looking pale and Angie was beginning to get worried. "Although if
I could remember something worthwhile, I think I'd even welcome
a little drug therapy of my own." He smiled weakly.

"According to your records, you've undergone hypnotic
regression. You have no memory of that?" she looked up in time to
see him shake his head no. "Do you think hypnosis might help you
now?"

"In theory, it should help. I mean, the memories are so close. It
might jar something loose. But then again. . ."

". . .it might push you over the edge," Angie finished his thought
for him. "Yeah, I've thought of that. It's up to you, Agent Mulder.
Do you want to risk it?"

Mulder looked over at Maggie Scully. She was sitting there,
holding his right hand, carefully avoiding the IV. She was trying
her best to keep her composure. She was walking a very thin line.
She wanted so much for Fox to remember so he could help her
daughter. On the other hand, however, she was afraid for him. He
could see the torment in her eyes.

"It's worth any risk," he said evenly. Maggie closed her eyes
and let a silent tear slide down her cheek. Mulder squeezed her
hand tighter, then released it. When she had opened her eyes, he
winked at her.

"OK," Angie said quietly. "Let's begin." It wasn't hard to get
Mulder into a hypnotic state. For one thing, he was used to it,
having gone under before. For another, he was very tired and was
weak, just barely maintaining his conscious state as it was.
Hypnosis put him one step closer to unconscious.

Angie wanted to keep the first session short. She decided to get
to the most recent memories first, since that was where the most
important information about his abduction was held. She was
thrilled when she asked him where he was and he told her that he
was in his car, on a stakeout. As far as Angie was concerned, they
had hit a gusher. In a trance state, Mulder was able to remember
every detail of the night of the stakeout, even down to the score of
the basketball game he conned his partner into letting him listen to.

The session was productive from a standpoint that Mulder was
remembering. It had not given any information as to the abduction
or the whereabouts of Agent Scully, however. This fact was not
lost on Angie. She was trying to decide how much further she
should push on when Mulder's breathing became quick and shallow,
his eyes went wide.

"Fox," Angie said, keeping her voice as soft and soothing as she
could, even though she was becoming alarmed at his reaction,
"what is happening? What do you see?

Mulder's eyes were fixed off in the distance. He was clenching
the fist on his right hand. "A panel truck. Black. Maryland plates.
Can't read because of the rain on the windshield, but definitely
Maryland. It's sitting over in the southbound lane, off to the side.
It wasn't there a minute ago. Must have come up blind, no lights."
His voice was tight and strained.

"What's happening now, Fox? Do you see anyone?" Angie was
trying very hard not to lead, but she had a bad feeling what was
coming and didn't want to drag it out more than absolutely
necessary.

"Three. I see three in the rearview mirror. They're coming up
on the driver's side. Wake up, Scully! We've got company and
they don't look friendly. Scully, c'mon, nap's over. Shit! Scully,
watch out!" Mulder's face was going deathly pale and he was
having a lot of trouble breathing. His eyes were still fixed in the
distance, but his unbandaged fist was clenching and unclenching.
Angie worked immediately to bring him out of the trance, while
motioning to Mrs. Scully to get a doctor. Mulder passed out, his
face ashen, his breathing so shallow that Angie wasn't sure if he was
breathing at all. The doctor and a nurse rushed into the room,
ordering Angie and Mrs. Scully outside. The two women obeyed,
but not before Angie looked back and saw the doctor working
frantically on her patient. She bit her lip, and fought back tears as
she hurried out the door.

Maggie Scully was standing just a little ways down the hall. She
moved over to Angie and put her arm around the young woman's
shoulders. "It's not your fault," she soothed. "You can't feel
responsible. This is a strain, he knew that, we all knew that. But
believe me, I know that young man. He will not give up. If it
weren't you working with him, there would be someone else. And
that person may not care as much as you."

Angie took a deep breath and wiped at her cheeks. "I can't
tolerate seeing people in pain. It's great at times, but it makes it hell
to stay objective." She forced herself to look back at the closed
door, already feeling the guilt of her actions weighing on her like a
boulder.

end of part two of three

Something to Remember 3/3
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

Mrs. Scully gave her another quick hug and the two walked to
the waiting room. Skinner was on the phone when they entered.
"Do you have something?" he asked anxiously.

Angie tensed at his question. "Yeah. I have something. A
patient in respiratory arrest! The doctor's in with him now. I'm not
sure if he was breathing when I left the room," she seethed, then
caught herself. By his expression, Skinner hadn't expected that
result. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

Angie decided to throw Skinner the small bit of info she had.
"Actually, he did seem to remember the night of the attack fairly
clearly. He saw a black panel truck with Maryland plates. He
couldn't make out the number because there was rain on the
window. There were three men, apparently they attacked the car.
Scully was sleeping, they were caught pretty much by surprise."

"Where did they take them?" Skinner whispered, hoping against
hope that they would now have *something* to go on.

"I don't know," Angie responded. "The stress was too much.
He collapsed before he could get that far. The doctor's in with him
now. I meant what I said before, Walter. I will not kill that man
just to get some information that may or may not lead you to your
missing agent. I'm sorry, but I cannot condone that kind of action.
The end does not justify the means!" Angie looked passed Skinner
and suddenly saw Maggie sitting on one of the chairs, a passive
observer. Angie went over to the older woman and knelt down
beside her.

"Please understand, Mrs. Scully. I know a lot of people are
placing so much hope on this, but it is very dangerous, as you have
just seen. From what I've heard and seen tonight, I don't think your
daughter would want to put her partner's life in jeopardy any more
than he would want to endanger her."

Maggie Scully sighed and nodded. Angie searched her face and
knew the woman was still locked in a terrible struggle with herself.
Angie reached over and hugged her. She didn't pull away until a
hand fell on her shoulder. It was Skinner.

"I think we need to talk to the doctor as soon as he's finished in
there. I'll abide by his decision. If it's endangering Mulder's life,
we'll simply have to go on without his assistance." Skinner sat
down hard at the table and started making phone calls based on the
one clue they now had.

The doctor made his way into the waiting room/conference
room about an hour later. "I'm sorry it took so long, Mrs. Scully.
He was having a great deal of trouble breathing. There was some
danger of a collapsed lung. We need to keep him as quiet as
possible. I've given him something to relax him. He wanted to talk
to you, but you should hurry. He'll be asleep within the next 15
minutes, I imagine."

Maggie hurried down the hall to the room. After a minute, the
nurse came back and called Angie into the hallway. "Mrs. Scully
asked that you come down," she said and left for the nurses station.

His eyes were closed when Angie entered the room. Mrs. Scully
was murmuring something to him, her voice soothing. She was
stroking his hand gently.

"Is she here?" he asked. The words were slurred and his voice
was just a whisper.

"Yes, Fox. She's here. But you need to rest. You're sick and
you need to rest to get better. Please. It's all right. Let Assistant
Director Skinner find Dana."

" . . . couldn't find an elephant in a handbag," Mulder quipped.
"Angie," he struggled to open his eyes, but the medications was
pulling him down into the darkness.

"I'm here, Fox. Did you remember something?" she asked,
trying to keep her voice calm.

"A boathouse. It was on the river, I think. I'm not sure. Maybe
a lake. That's where they held us. I heard noise. I think it might
have been an airport nearby. Could have been . . . " he licked his

lips and was quiet for a moment. " . . . there are boathouses on the
Potomac. National's flight path crosses that area. It's not that far
from where they say they found me." The last of the sentence was
almost lost as the medicine finally won the battle and Mulder was
dragged into sleep.

Maggie looked up at Angie. "Will that help?"

"I'm not an agent, Mrs. Scully, but I can't see how it can hurt.
I'll go tell Walter immediately. Are you going to stay here?"

The older woman nodded and reached over to brush the hair off
the young man's forehead. "I'll sit with him while he's sleeping. I
don't want him to wake up and be alone." Angie nodded and left
the room.

Skinner was overjoyed at the news. "It's the first real lead we've
had. At least we have a place to start the search," he said gruffly as
he ordered agents over the phone and organized a combined search
with the DC police. "It's just a matter of time, now."

Angie went back to Mulder's room, and found the agent sound
asleep. Mrs. Scully looked up at her and smiled.

"Walter says it's just a matter of time," Angie said as she pulled
up the other chair next to Mulder's bed. "Why don't you get some
sleep, Mrs. Scully. When they find her, I'm sure you'll be sitting by
Dana's bed for a while, too. You don't want to be dead on your
feet, now, do you?"

"I can rest here as well as anywhere," Maggie said with a
sheepish smile. "You have places to be, Dr. Verilli. Shouldn't you
be getting on home?" Maggie returned.

Angie laughed softly. "No, the place is locked up tight by now
and Jack would mistake me for a burglar. I'm safer here till
morning. Besides, the night's not over, yet. You might need a hand
here."

Maggie smiled sadly and nodded her head.

Two hours later

The ringing of the phone by her head jolted Angie awake.
Without thinking, she reached over and picked it up, rubbing her
eyes and blinking at the room around her. She had fallen asleep in
the lounge. Skinner and the rest of the agents had left to search for
Agent Scully on the basis of the last piece of information that Agent
Mulder had given her before he had finally drifted off to sleep.
Maggie had taken up her 'post' by his bedside and Angie had agreed
to stay by the phone in case any word came in.

"Hello?" she said, not quite sure who would be calling this line.

"Angie, it's Walter," a deep male voice said. In the background,
Angie could hear a great din of noises, voices shouting, sirens, it
sounded like a madhouse.

"Walter, my God! Where are you? Did you find Agent Scully?"
Angie asked excitedly.

"Yes, we found her. And we got here just in time. The
ambulance is loading her up right now. Angie, is her mother
there?" the AD asked evenly.

"She's still with Agent Mulder. Should I go get her?"

"Maybe you better," Skinner said after a moment's thought. "I'll
hold the line."

Angie ran down the hall and skidded to a stop in front of
Mulder's door. Slowly, hoping to avoid the inevitable creaking
noise, she opened it and looked in. Maggie was pretty much where
she'd been when Angie left, sitting next to his bed and holding the
hand carefully around the IV lines and wires. Except now,
Maggie's eyes were closed and from the rise and fall of her chest,
Angie could tell the older woman had fallen asleep there.

Quietly, so she didn't disturb the patient in the bed, Angie went
over and shook Maggie's shoulder. "Mrs. Scully. Mrs. Scully,
Assistant Director Skinner is on the phone. They've found her.
C'mon, you go down to the lounge and I'll take up point here," she
added with a smile.

"Oh dear God, they found her? Is she all right?" Maggie asked,
startled from sleep and breathless.

Angie gave her a sad shake of the head. "I don't know, Mrs.
Scully, but I think so. Walter said they got there just in time. He
wants to talk to you. I'm sure she's on her way here already. They
were loading her into the ambulance as I was speaking to him.
He's on the phone in the lounge. You go, I'll stay here."

"Yes, of course," Maggie nodded and with a quick brush of her
hand across the sleeping man's forehead, she headed out the door
and down the hall.

"Looks like it's just you and me, Spooky," Angie whispered,
taking Mulder's hand in her own. "Rest easy, Agent Mulder. She's
on her way home. She'll be here when you wake up."

The prone agent didn't give any indication that he could hear
her. He lay, completely still, breathing shallowly from the oxygen
tube on his upper lip. The doctor had ordered a strong sedative be
given after the problems Mulder had experienced during the
hypnosis. His eyes underneath his lashes were frighteningly still--he
was not even allowed the comfort of REM sleep.

Angie sighed and leaned back in her seat, not breaking contact
with his hand. She needed to feel the faint pulse in his fingers, even
if he couldn't feel her hand. Her most fervent hope was that Agent
Scully would make a full recovery and that her partner would be
there, well, and waiting to work again.

The hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Angie looked up
and saw a haggard Maggie Scully, but her face bore a bright smile.
"She's out of surgery. They assured me she'll be fine," she said in a
low whisper. "How is Fox doing?" she asked, looking over at the
occupant of the hospital bed.

"He hasn't come around yet. They dosed him up pretty
heavily," Angie noted and glanced at her watch. "Good grief! It's
7:30 already?"

Maggie nodded. "Long night. I can't thank you enough for
sitting with Fox. I wanted to be near, in case he woke up, but I
didn't want to be too far away from the surgical unit--"

"My pleasure," Angie said with a smile. "Besides, with three
kids, I'm used to these hours," she added. "I wonder if he
shouldn't be waking up soon."

Maggie's expression turned to worry again. "Maybe we should
ask the doctor. Now that we have them both safe, if something
were to happen to him--"

Maggie was so distraught that she didn't notice the hand she
was holding as it squeezed her fingers. She did finally look down
when she heard the groan that came from the object of her concern.

"Fox," she said softly, leaning over close to his ear. "Fox, it's
Maggie. She's home, Fox. They found her. Dana's safe."

That was all it took. He worked his throat convulsively, but
then opened his eyes. They still held a glassy look, and he searched
around the room for a second before finally focusing on the person
just inches from his face. "She's safe?" he croaked.

"A little banged up, but not much worse than you are. She's got
a broken leg and some internal bruising. And a big knot on her
head. Other than that, she just needs some rest and a whole lot of
my cooking," Maggie smiled. She patted his cheek. "You both
need a whole lot of my cooking," she added.

"Meatloaf?" he asked with a sleepy smile.

"With homemade biscuits. Now you just go back to sleep.
When you wake up, maybe you can go down and see her."

"See her . . ." he sighed happily and let his eyelids fall. In
seconds, he was deep asleep again.

Maggie watched for a minute before leaning closer and placing a
gentle kiss on his forehead. When she pulled up, Angie was
standing and stretching.

"So, what's the significance of meatloaf?" Angie asked as the
two women left the room together.

"When Fox was allowed to come home after he was sick on a
case in Alaska, that's what I fixed him. It was really about all we
could get him to eat. He claims his mother never made it, but it's
his favorite dish. I can't understand how a mother--" Maggie's
eyes clouded, then she shrugged. "Well, never mind. I'd better
stock up on ground beef. They'll be recuperating for a few weeks,
at the very least."

"And flour. You promised homemade biscuits. I'd hold you to
that one, if I were him," Angie teased.

Maggie's expression darkened to worry again. "Do you think
he's all right now? I mean, do you think he has all of his memories
back?"

Angie graced the older woman with a knowing smile. "Here's
my card. If you have any concerns about him, call me. But in light
of what he remembered this morning, I think we're well on our way
to a full recovery."

"Thank you," Maggie said and took the younger woman in a
quick hug. "For everything."

Angie smiled in return and hurried to the elevator before the
tears escaped her lashes.

One Month Later.

The line at the pharmacy was longer than she expected. Angie
shifted from one foot to the other in impatience, then noticed the
young woman with soft red hair, struggling with her crutches, just
behind her.

"Here, you go on," Angie offered as she moved aside to let the
other woman go ahead of her.

"No, that's all right. I have a bunch of scripts. I'd hate to have
you wait on them all. You go ahead."

"No, that's all right," Angie shrugged. "Standing in line is
sometimes the only quiet I get," she said with a devilish grin.

"No rest for the wicked, hey, Dr. Verilli?" asked a voice behind
her. Angie turned and saw Fox Mulder, leaning on a cane, one arm
still in a cast.

"Not likely. Which includes you, if I'm not mistaken, Dr.
Mulder. Glad to see you out of the hospital and up and around."

"We're not ready for the Boston Marathon yet, are we, Scully?
But it's nice to be out from under those nurses. Oh, excuse my
manners. Scully, _this_ is Angie Verilli," Mulder said with a wide
grin.

"_The_ Angie Verilli?" the red haired woman replied with a
matching smile. "Dr. Verilli, it's a great pleasure to meet you. My
mother has so many nice things to say about you!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Scully. I'm glad to see you
both are doing so much better."

"Two more weeks and the casts are history," Mulder declared
proudly.

"And then two _more_ weeks of desk duty before Mulder can
find some case that we can investigate which will get us stuck in
quarantine," Scully laughed. He blushed fiercely.

"Watch it, Scully, I can still out run you with that cast on your
leg," he warned teasingly.

"And I have two crutches to your lonely little cane--I'm still
better armed," she replied with twinkling eyes. The pharmacist
called her name and she turned to the counter.

"Any problems remembering?" Angie asked quietly.

He thought for a moment then shook his head. "No,
unfortunately. The memories are back, warts, toads, werewolves
and all," he said with a sad smile. "But some things," he looked
over at his partner. "Somethings I'm really glad I remember."

the end