Monday, 5:20 pm

"Buddy, you seem to have spent your weekend in New Mexico."

"Okay, I'm impressed," Mulder conceded. "Wanna tell me how you got that?"

"An ill-spent youth, my man." Frohike was beaming. "And a little help from my friends." He turned back to the keyboard. "Watch and learn."

Langly rolled his eyes.

Scully watched the three of them huddle around the computer as Frohike held forth. Hacking 101, interspersed with asides to Mulder and debates with Langly on the finer points. Mulder was full of questions. "That's just the reservation list? Can you verify that I was actually on the plane?" He was leaning so close that Frohike was practically in his lap.

The little man was in his element. "Piece o' cake." Keys clacked for a moment, and he waved triumphantly at the screen. "There you are, buddy. Row 18, seat C on the aisle."

Scully walked over then and read the display. Mulder had used his own name, not an alias, which ruled out all of the reasons she'd come up with to excuse his not having told her he what he was doing. And of course, he couldn't tell her now, even if he wanted to. "Can you check car rentals? Motels in the area?"

Frohike glanced back at her. "Not for another day or so, at least. Most credit card charges take a couple of days to show on the system. Right now, all I can tell you for sure is that he boarded at Dulles and landed in Farmington, New Mexico."

The words sent a chill down her back. "Farmington?"

"Yeah," Langly piped in. "Gotta be a decent sized airport for that plane. Have you heard of it?"

She nodded woodenly. "I've heard of it."

Mulder's head came up, zeroing in on whatever he'd heard in her voice. "Heard of it how?"

She looked at Frohike, remembering the night he'd come to her with an empty bottle of Scotch in one hand and his broken heart in the other. In their mutual grief, they'd found common ground for the first time, and a bond that surprised her still. Not once in that long night had she mentioned the name of the town where Mulder had disappeared. She hadn't told anyone, in fact, but she could see that Frohike had just made the connection. "We were there on a case, Mulder. It was a long time ago."

Frohike turned quickly back to the keyboard, but not before she caught the look in his eyes. He cleared his throat. "This is gonna take hours. You two are welcome to hang here, but you'll be stuck with Langly's pasta surprise for dinner."

Mulder's stomach growled right on cue, but he was too busy glancing between Scully and Frohike to notice. "As appealing as that sounds, I think I'd prefer a nice, juicy explanation."

Frohike stopped typing.

She met Mulder's gaze head on. "So would I. That's why I think we need to give the boys time to work. I'll take you back to your apartment and we can find something to eat."

He watched her for a long moment, then turned to study Frohike's frozen posture. "You two need to work on your poker faces."

Scully recognized the half smile as it lifted the corners of his lips. She'd seen it hundreds of times over the past seven years, in interrogation rooms all over the country. He knew there was something they weren't telling him, but he wasn't about to ask the question outright. Mulder's approach was subtle, but lethal. He'd let them believe they were safe, for now. There was no better snare than a false sense of security.

Her advantage was that she knew what he was up to. "I'm starving, Mulder. Let's go."

The smile made its appearance, and he turned back to Frohike. "You can breathe now, Fro'." He patted the little man's shoulder, then stood up and made for the door.

Frohike spun his chair and caught Scully's eye with a questioning glance. She shook her head in warning, then aimed a similar look at Langly over the little man's head. They all turned their attention to Mulder's receding back.

Mulder was oblivious to the excitement he'd caused with a single word. He halfway to the door before he seemed to realize that no one was moving behind him. He turned around. "I thought you wanted to go?"

Scully got quickly to her feet. "I'll be with you in a minute. I just remembered a call I need to make. I'll meet you at the car." She fished the keys from her pocket and tossed them to him.

Mulder caught them easily without breaking their gaze. To her surprise, he just shrugged. "Okay. I'll be outside."

The moment the door closed behind him, she turned to Frohike and Langly. "I don't want you jumping to conclusions and sharing them with Mulder right now."

Frohike looked wounded. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Well, *I* was!" Langly protested. "What's wrong with telling him when he gets it right? How's he gonna know when he comes up with a real memory if we can't say anything?" It was almost, but not quite, a full fledged whine.

"It doesn't work that way." She noticed Frohike's slumped posture and found herself unable to resist the urge to touch him. "And especially you," she said kindly. "No hints about what Farmington, New Mexico might mean."

He shrugged. "I can't tell him what I don't know." There was understanding in the little man's eyes, and a promise.

"Keep digging, guys. I'll call you in the morning." She had nearly reached the door when Langly called after her.

"Don't you have a phone call to make?"

She turned and gave him a pitying look that was probably very much like the one Frohike turned on him. "I'll talk to you in the morning, guys." As she was turning back to the door, she saw Langly's baffled look change to a grimace as Frohike's punch landed on his shoulder. She let herself out, shaking her head.

Mulder was sitting behind the wheel when she got back to the car. She walked around to the drivers side and he rolled down the window. "Mulder, you can't drive."

He raised one eyebrow. "I don't drive?"

She opened the door. "I didn't say that. I said you *can't* drive. It's not safe until we understand more about what's going on." She stood back and waited for him to get out. Scooting across the console with those legs was out of the question.

They waged a silent battle of wills for a moment, and then he unfolded himself from the car and walked around to the passenger side without further comment.

His silence lasted until she asked him a direct question. "I want to stop and pick up something for dinner. Is pizza all right?"

"You'd know better than I would." He kept his attention on the fascinating guardrail zipping by outside his window.

Pizza, then. His favorite was only a couple of blocks from his apartment. When she pulled into the tiny parking lot, he looked up at the sign and nodded, but said nothing.

"Mulder, I'll be about fifteen minutes. You want to wait here?" Another nod.

'Luigi' was a round-faced, pleasant woman with an accent that placed her birthplace much closer to Brooklyn than Naples, but she always greeted her regular customers by name. She had apparently seen them pull up and was sliding Mulder's usual into the oven when Scully entered the shop.

"Where's your other half?" she smiled up at Scully. "Hope he's not changing his order, 'cuz I just popped 'er in the oven."

Scully smiled back. It was impossible not to. "He's waiting in the car, Milly. It's been a long day."

Milly nodded in understanding. "That boy needs to slow down." She jerked her chin at Scully's weary smile. "You, too."

Bells tinkled from the door, and a young couple in jogging suits came in. Milly reached over and patted Scully's hand before she turned to her customers. "You guys are early tonight! Somebody have the day off?"

Between phone orders and walk-ins, Milly didn't return to Scully until she had the pizza box in hand. "Ten forty-six," she said.

Scully already had that amount in her hand. The prices hadn't changed in the five years she and Mulder had been coming here together. Milly accepted the money and slid the box across the counter. But she didn't let go when Scully tried to pick it up. She looked up into her customer's eyes. "You take care."

The kind concern in her voice put a sudden lump in Scully's throat. "I will," she whispered around it, and walked out the door to the merry tinkle of bells.

Mulder leaned over and opened the door for her, then held out his hands to take the pizza box. He sniffed deeply at the pungent aromas wafting up. "Mushrooms?"

Scully slid in behind the wheel and closed the door. "With onions, sausage and hot peppers." Half of it, at least. Her portions were minus the onions and hot peppers.

"Smells good." It was his last comment until they were seated on his couch with the pizza spread out on the coffee table. They stared at the food for a moment. "I should have gotten Pepsi or something," Scully announced. She pushed up from the couch, but Mulder's hand landed lightly on her wrist, and she stopped.

"Talk to me."

She settled back down and looked at him. "What do you want to talk about?"

"You know who I am. I want you to tell me."

Klein had taken her aside this morning while Mulder waited for the paperwork, and he'd told her this was coming. Use your judgment, he'd said. When the initial shock wears off, he's going to start asking questions. Tell him what he wants to know, but tread carefully with anything that could be disturbing. 'Anything disturbing.' She'd almost laughed out loud.

"We work in a division called the X files, and the cases assigned to us are often paranormal in nature."

"I ask you who I am, and you answer by telling me what I do for a living. A psychologist might call that significant."

"You want to know who you are, Mulder, and your work is a big part of the answer."

"Sorry. Go ahead." He lifted his left hand, waving her on.

"You're not married. You have no living relatives that I know about. You're the most intelligent man I've ever known, and you're incredibly driven. Sometimes, that single-mindedness gets you into trouble." He raised an eyebrow, and she pulled her legs up beneath her, mimicking his posture. Their hands rested together on the back of the couch. "The work we do is dangerous, but it's important." She held his gaze and waited.

He raised both eyebrows this time. "Is that the Reader's Digest condensed version?"

She smiled in surprise. "The PG version, yes." Klein had told her what had happened during his interview, so she knew Mulder was aware that 'dangerous' was certainly an understatement. "We'll save the details for after dinner, okay?"

He unbent his leg and turned back to the cooling pizza. "I'm holding you to that." He picked up a piece of pizza and took a bite.

Her appetite, she discovered with her first bite of gooey cheese, was surprisingly intact. Before she started on her second slice, she went out to the kitchen and got them each a glass of tap water and a handful of paper towels. Mulder was quiet again, his light mood having dissipated as quickly as it came. He didn't ask them, but questions danced in his eyes every time he looked up at her.

When the pizza was gone, he leaned back again, wiping his fingers with a wad of paper towel. Every line of his body screamed exhaustion. "I need a shower." He stood up and headed for the bedroom door. "Don't think I've forgotten about the story you're going to tell me," he called over his shoulder. "I won't be ten minutes."

"I'm not going anywhere." She began picking up the debris from dinner.

There was no way she intended to leave him alone tonight, though she had no idea how to convince him to let her stay without having to tell him why. Someone had done this to him, she was convinced of that. And whether it was an old enemy, or something new he'd stumbled into, Mulder was in danger. She picked up the last of the mess and walked out to the kitchen.

The shower came on just as she finished washing up the glasses and silverware they'd used. The box wouldn't fit in his wastebasket, so she laid it on top of the lid.

She walked back to the living room and sank into the couch. The soft drum of water against the wall above her head soothed her. Mulder was standing under that rush of water, not five feet from where she sat. Smiling at the image, she allowed her eyes to drift shut.

Blinding white light and the smell of antiseptic. A massive machine hovered over her, surrounding her with the blue scent of ionized air. It hummed in her ears. Vibrated her skin and seeped straight to her bones. A scream clawed its way up from her belly, but something stopped it in her throat. Her limbs were leaden and lifeless, barely registering in her perception. There was nothing left but her mind, and that would soon be gone, too. She closed her eyes and let it come. And with her last shred of awareness, she head it. A voice rising above the humming din. It was screaming her name over and over and--

Her eyes snapped open, but the sound was still there. She pushed herself upright, clothes sticking to her sweaty body, chilling her almost as much as the screams that seemed to echo from all directions.

Mulder.

She stumbled and nearly fell twice on her way to his door, shoving it open finally, clinging to the doorframe for balance. Knees rubbery with shock, she called his name into the dark room. There was movement, but the screams had stopped so abruptly, it was as if someone had thrown a switch.

Switch. Turn on the light. Feeling like an idiot, she moved shaking fingers along the wall, found the light switch and flipped it.

He was huddled against the headboard with the comforter tangled around him. "Mulder?" He curled tighter into himself and turned his face to the wall. Scully crossed the room slowly, speaking softly as she approached the bed. "Mulder, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

When she reached the bed, she sat carefully down on the edge. He should be awake by now. His screams should have wakened him, just as they did her and probably most of the building. "Mulder, can you hear me?" She reached out and touched his arm.

He jerked as if she'd touched him with a live wire, eyes wild and unfocused as he scooted off the opposite side of the bed and scrambled to his feet.

He made a clumsy dash for the door, and she placed herself in his path, acutely aware of the difference in their sizes. She planted her feet and shouted, "MULDER, STOP!" To her utter surprise, he did.

And suddenly, he was on the floor in a heap, his collapse so abrupt that she thought for a horrifying instant he'd had a stroke. She dropped to her knees next to him and felt for the carotid pulse, shaking with relief when she found it, fast but steady beneath her fingers. "Mulder, it's me," she breathed, forgetting for an instant how little that meant to him now.

He struggled against her grasp, his eyes fixed in horror on something only he could see. The nightmare was rapidly becoming a full-blown panic attack, and there was nothing she could do but hang on. If he managed to get himself together enough to stand up, there would be no way she could stop him.

The phone on his nightstand was out of reach. She'd have to release him in order to get help, and that was out of the question. "Mulder, please wake up. You're having a nightmare." She said it over and over like a prayer, holding him as close as his panicked body would allow.

After an interminable few minutes, he began to run out of steam. The tension in his limbs slackened, and he went silently limp in her arms. Scully pulled him into her lap and held him, rocking back and forth, comforting him the only way she could until he fell into an exhausted sleep in her trembling arms.

It was a long time after that before her own adrenaline rush began to dissipate, leaving her shaky and weak. There was no way to get him back into bed, so she reached up and pulled the comforter over him where he lay, then carefully lowered him to the floor.

She had never seen him like this, not in his worst nightmares. Moving as quietly as she could, Scully went back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. When she could trust her voice, she fished Dr. Klein's business card from her pocket and dialed his home number. He answered on the second ring, sounding sleepy and irritated, and she looked at her watch for the first time. It was after four in the morning.

He listened to her clinical, if somewhat shaky, summary without asking questions. She finished with "Do you think I should bring him to the hospital?"

"You said his vitals are stable, and he's sleeping. I don't think a trip to the ER is indicated." He yawned in her ear and apologized immediately. "Sorry, I've only been in bed for about an hour." She heard him moving, then a door closed and his volume went up a notch. "This isn't totally unexpected, and it may even be an indication that his memory is returning. Do you have any sedatives with you?"

Her medical bag was out in the trunk. She couldn't risk leaving Mulder alone long enough to get it. "No, not with me."

He tried unsuccessfully to muffle another yawn. "Then let's hope the worst is over for tonight. I'd recommend having something handy for the next few days. Call me after he wakes up and let me know how he's doing."

"I will, thank you. Sorry for the late hour."

"Don't apologize. I gave you the number, remember?" He was chuckling when he hung up.

"Who was that on the phone?"

She jumped half out of her skin, twisting toward Mulder's voice so violently that she felt the muscles in her neck cramp in protest. He had traded the comforter for his rumpled trousers, zipped but unbuttoned. His chest and feet were bare, and he was watching her from the bedroom doorway. "I was talking to Dr. Klein."

He squinted at the digital clock on the VCR. "At four in the morning?" He rubbed sleepily at his eyes as he walked over to her and sat down on the couch. "Why?"

There was no trace of the nightmare in his eyes. "Mulder, what do you remember about the last few hours?"

"You mean aside from waking up on the floor a few minutes ago wearing nothing but a blanket and a smile?"

"Do you remember going to bed?"

He frowned in concentration. "We ate the pizza, and I went in to take a shower." He spoke haltingly, relating each memory as it surfaced. "I remember sitting down on the bed for a minute, but ..." He shook his head. "I guess I must have fallen asleep. And then I woke up on the floor."

"Nothing in between? You don't remember how you got to the floor?" Having no recollection of the nightmare could mean any number of things, none of them good.

"No. Nothing." He shifted under her gaze. "Why? Is that why you called the doctor? Did something happen?"

His voice was rising, confusion turning quickly to alarm. She took his hand and held it. "You had a nightmare, Mulder. You've had them before, but this was different. You don't remember anything about it?"

"How many times do I have to say it? No, I don't remember." He was angry now. "It's getting worse instead of better, isn't it? Now I'm losing short term memory, too." His eyes darted away from hers, and she tugged his hand until he looked at her again.

"No, Mulder. You're not getting worse. Dr. Klein actually said that the nightmare could be an indication that your memories are coming back, and I agree with him."

His breathing had speeded up with the fresh burst of adrenaline, but her reassurance seemed to help. He took another shaky breath. "I want to find out what happened to me."

"We will, Mulder. It's just going to take some time be--"

"No." The quiet determination in his voice cut her off as cleanly as if he'd shouted in her face. "I don't want to live like this. You said we investigate paranormal cases? I want to investigate *this* one." She started shaking her head. "Why did you have Frohike check it out, then? Because you intended to follow through with whatever he found. Well, he found something."

He was right. She had taken him there and put the idea in his head, and nothing was going to shake it loose. That she had quickly realized her mistake mattered not at all now. And there was a good chance that she was about to make another. "Let's see what more he found overnight. If the lead still holds, we'll check it out."

The tension drained from his face, leaving a peaceful smile in his eyes. "Thank you, Scully."

"You can thank me by getting a few hours sleep. We're both going to need it."

His gaze shifted to the bedroom door. "I think I'd prefer the couch, if you don't mind."

She hesitated, fighting images of him wandering out the front door in another dream. But he needed her faith as much as her protection now. "Sure. I'll take the bed."

She brought him a blanket and pillow from the bed. "I'll leave the door open. Call me if you need anything."

He stuffed the pillow under his head and smiled at her. "Go to bed. I'll be fine." He watched her all the way to the bedroom door.

Sleep was impossible. She straightened the sheets and sat down on the edge of the mattress, ears tuned to catch the slightest sound from the living room. It wasn't long before worry and exhaustion won out, and she lay back. Just a few minutes, that's all, and she would be fine.

Blinding white light and the smell of antiseptic. A massive machine hovered over her, surrounding her with the blue scent of ionized air...

* * *
End of Chapter 3