Date: Mon, 16 Jun 1997 19:56:53 -0400 (EDT) From: (smythja@aston.ac.uk) This is a fiction story based on the characters created by Chris Carter. No infringement of copyrights held by 10/13 Productions, Twentieth Century Productions, or Fox Broadcasting is intended. All unrecognised characters and plot-lines belong to me. Names, characters, and places exist solely within my imagination, or are used fictitiously. No connection to any person, living or dead, is intended, and any resemblance is entirely coincidental. Feel free to distribute, but please keep me as the author. Classification - T, A. No spoilers Rating - PG. Summary - A car accident in which he loses his memory causes a crisis of conscience for Mulder. This is for Gerry Hill, whose as-yet-unreleased story "Friends", provided such a brilliant pretext for this story. Danielle Culverson. Fugitive. Part 1/3. The sun was sinking low in the February sky over Washington DC, and the city's working population were mostly either at home already, or hurrying on their way. The air was warm, although a strong wind was blowing. The dark clouds which had been threatening rain all day had finally drifted away to the east, leaving a sky that was almost clear, and was turning an orangey-grey with the last of the sunlight. In Alexandria, cars were moving about slowly on the main roads as people returned home from work, and mothers collected their children from playgroups. The smaller streets seemed quiet, as no-one was particularly interested in spending time out of doors in the winter when the light was fading. In the suburban streets the lawns were green, although still not growing after the chill of winter, and the trees were showing only tiny buds of leaves on their branches. A dark-haired man jogged along one of these streets. His short brown hair was falling in his face, and his skin was slick with sweat from the exertions he was putting himself through. He wore a white t-shirt, and pair of old dark blue sweat pants. He moved along the street with a quiet determination, and those people who did see him paid little attention. - He ran this route every night when he was in Washington, and they were used to seeing him. Fox Mulder turned a corner onto a different road, this one slightly busier with traffic. His pace remained constant as he glanced to the right into the park. A group of children were playing on the swings, while two mothers looked on. They too were often there at this time of night, and he was used to seeing them. Although he had never passed more than a "Good evening" with any of them, he still felt as though he knew them. Mulder glanced to his left, looking for a break in the traffic so that he could cross the road. Seeing one, he jogged quickly to the pavement on the other side, and continued on his way. He rounded another corner, and had to alter his course to avoid an elderly lady who was walking her dog. He knew her, - she lived in his apartment building, - and he often saw her with the Jack Russel, Trixie, while he was out. He nodded to her, and she smiled slightly, and they both continued on their way. Sprinting down the next street, he had to pause on the corner in order to catch his breath before continuing on his way. He leaned over, his hands resting just above his knees to support him as he breathed deeply, fighting off a stitch threatening in his side. The sound of a car engine grew ahead of him, but he didn't register it until he realised that from it's sound it was still going too fast to negotiate the turn. Raising his head from his tired contemplation of his running shoes, he saw a car heading straight for him. He barely had time to straighten before it jumped the kerb, and knocked his legs from under him. He was vaguely aware of hitting the windscreen of the car as the world span around him, and then rolling off the bonnet. As he landed on the ground with a thump, everything around him went black. * * * Special Agent Dana Scully replaced her ear-protectors and goggles, and lifted her revolver. Aiming it straight ahead of her she fired off sixteen rounds. Putting her weapon down again, she removed the goggles and pressed a button which moved the target she had been firing at forward so that she could see how well she had done. A blond-haired young man approached just as the target reached Scully, and he glanced at the spray of bullet holes in the centre of the target's "chest". "You don't really look like you need the practice, Agent Scully." the young man said. She smiled faintly, and reloaded her gun with another clip. - In her line of work, the more practice the better, because who knew what sort of situation she might need to have a perfect aim in. Dana Scully and her working partner, Fox Mulder, worked in the X-files department at FBI headquarters in Washington. Their department was an unusual one, comprising of only two agents, and the cases they got were certainly unusual, for that was what the X-files department investigated, - all the FBI's cases which didn't come under other sections of it's jurisdiction. And in between their cases they worked on other cases with the Behavioural Sciences unit, and the Violent Crimes Unit. At the moment they were between cases, having just wrapped up their last case with the VCU. Mulder had gone home to get some much deserved rest and relaxation after working hard to profile and catch a psychotic killer who had been maiming and killing people in New Jersey. Scully had decided to travel to the FBI academy at Quantico, Virginia, for what she considered to be much needed target practice at the firing range there. Scully replaced her goggles, and pressed a switch to set up a new target. Lifting her revolver, she began firing again. * * * Mulder clutched at the young woman supporting him as his legs nearly gave way again. She tightened her hold on him around his waist, and they made it into the small bedroom, where he thankfully collapsed into a sitting position on the bed. The woman hurried out of the room again leaving him to sit there alone, gazing around him, and trying to organise his tumbling thoughts. The fact that he couldn't remember who he was, or what had happened to him didn't really seem to matter. The woman, - who had told him her name was Lucy, and seemed very upset about whatever it was that had caused him to wake up lying on the pavement, - had brought him back to her apartment, and at the moment he was just grateful to not have to think too hard about anything as his head hurt. He gazed around at the room. The wallpaper had a light floral print, and the room seemed bright and airy, despite the gathering darkness outside the window. Beige curtains hung open at the window, and a piece of net hung behind them to close out the outside world. The bed he sat on was soft, and the quilt on it bore the same floral pattern as the wallpaper. A thick beige carpet covered the floor. Somehow he got the impression that this room was seldom used, - probably the visitor's bedroom. The woman entered the room again with a glass of water. She sat down beside him on the bed, and held it to his lips. He tried to hold the glass, but his hands were shaky, and he was glad of her help. "How are you feeling?" she asked in a low voice. "Umm... I'm not sure." Mulder replied, "I think tomorrow I'll be very stiff. My head aches a bit." "I'd give you some aspirin, but if you're bleeding inside..." the woman trailed, and Mulder understood that this was a bad idea. "What happened?" he asked. "I hit you with my car." the woman replied apologetically, "The brakes failed, or something. - When I tried to slow up I couldn't. - You were standing on the corner, and I hit you as I tried to make it around the turn." "Oh." Mulder said vaguely. This sounded a little too much to grasp right now. He wondered why she had brought him to her house, and not taken him to the hospital, but felt strangely glad that she had. - But why didn't he like hospitals? "You'd better get some rest." Lucy told him, "We'll see if you're feeling any better tomorrow. - You can sleep in here, - it's the spare bedroom. - My room's the next along if you need anything during the night, and the bathroom is just opposite. Okay?" "Sure." Mulder nodded, and immediately wished he hadn't when his head started punishing him again. He tried to smile at Lucy as she went to the door, but what came out was more like a grimace. Once the door was closed, he slowly set about removing his t-shirt and sweat pants. He dropped the t-shirt over a nearby chair, and sat down on the bed again to remove his sweat pants. As he drew them off, he stared in horror at what was tied around his right ankle. A gun rested in a holster around his ankle. Mulder removed the holster gingerly, and stared at it for several minutes before raising his head and searching the room with his eyes for somewhere to hide the weapon. He eventually decided that under the mattress was the only reasonable place. After secreting both gun and holster there, he stared dully down at the carpet in front of him, trying to force his thoughts to order themselves so he could consider this new development rationally. So, he was carrying a gun. - There could be several reasons for that. - Either he was involved in law enforcement, although as far as he knew most police officers wore their guns in hip holsters, not hidden beneath their trousers. And why was he carrying it when he wasn't on duty anyway, if that was the case? - Or he had the gun for some illegal reason. Had he shot someone with that? Did he use it to hold up banks or something? All of these ideas seemed horrific to him, and he could only hope that his fears were unfounded. What a pity though that he had had no ID with him when Lucy had run him down... Mulder's thoughts refused to run in a coherent line any longer, and he laid himself carefully down on the bed, and soon drifted into an exhausted sleep. * * * Silence. Everything was quiet, except his breathing, and the distant sound of a television... His gun was in his hands, and he was walking slowly forward, towards the only light he could see in the darkness which hung around him like a mist. The sound of the television disappeared beneath the sound of his breathing as he moved forward, which was raspy and slow. In front of him, a man sitting in an armchair, watching t.v. with a cigarette held between two fingers... He darted forward, smacking the cigarette from the man's lips and thrusting the gun he held into the man's face... Suddenly the scene changed. He was on a crowded platform. People were coming and going all around him, and as he tried to move forward they were constantly getting in his way, pushing him back. He pulled out his gun and started firing through the crowd. People screamed and ran in all directions. Then a loud bang rang out somewhere in the crowd, and pain seared up from his chest... Mulder bolted upright in bed, and stared straight ahead of him as he tried to come to terms with what he had just dreamed. Was the dream some sort of vision of what he had done in the past? Or was it just a reaction to his own fears about the gun he had found tied to his ankle? Trying to get to his feet, he discovered that he was still stiff, but that his headache was a lot better, despite the dream. There was light showing behind the curtains, which Lucy must have drawn at some point the previous night, - he hadn't noticed. He decided it was best if he tried to get dressed, and go to meet the woman who had taken him in. As he struggled into his creased sweat pants and t-shirt, he remembered his apparent dislike of hospitals from the night before, and had the chilling revelation that if he was on the run from the police because of some crime he had committed, he would be afraid of going to hospitals in case someone recognised and reported him. It was an unpleasant thought which only served to add to his unease of mind, so he pushed it to one side, and headed out of his room to look for Lucy. He found her sitting in the main room, reading. She looked up when he entered, and smiled. "Good morning. - How are you feeling?" "Better, thank you." Mulder acknowledged. "Take a seat. - Would you like something to drink? Coffee?" "That would be nice." he agreed, sitting down in an armchair near to her. She got to her feet and went over to the sideboard where a kettle was standing. Within a minute she had made his drink, and brought it over to him. He accepted it gratefully, and she sat down again as he sipped the hot liquid. "How's your head?" "A lot better. - The man with the sledge-hammer appears to have gone away for awhile." Lucy smiled, and leaned back in her chair. "Do you remember anything about yourself yet?" He shook his head. "Not even your name? - Well, we'll have to give you one, then. How do you feel about Steve?" Mulder shrugged, "That's fine with me." he replied, and took another sip from his mug. Lucy nodded, and smiled. * * * Scully looked up from her folder, and glanced over at her partner's unoccupied desk with a vaguely unsettled feeling. It was unlike her partner to be so late without calling her, even when they weren't working on a specific case. In fact, if they were working on a case she would be less concerned, and would simply assume that he had gone off to investigate one of his hunches. But today was just not the sort of day Mulder would choose to come in so late on, and that fact was beginning to seriously play on her nerves. It wasn't as if they didn't have plenty of enemies who were seemingly constantly trying to get them out of the way one way or another. - Everything from abducting her to trying to have their boss fired for unprofessional conduct. - Working in the X-files department brought notoriety of all the wrong sorts, and did nothing for improving your paranoia level. Scully gave up trying to fight her fears, knowing that they weren't as irrational as she liked to believe, and reached for her phone. Quickly dialing her partner's familiar number, she listened to the phone at the other end of the line ringing before the answering machine cut in. "This is Fox Mulder. Leave a message please." It got shorter every time she heard it. "Mulder? Are you home? I'm getting worried about you, - why aren't you in work yet? Please call me as soon as you can." Scully disconnected, and immediately dialed the number of Mulder's mobile phone. But this time all she heard was a steady ringing, and no-one answered. Scully took a deep breath, and tried to organise her thoughts. - There were certainly plenty of possible explanations as to her partner's possible whereabouts, but how she was to determine which was the correct one, she had no idea. * * * He was sitting at a table. There was a gun lying on it. He picked up the gun, and aimed it at a man. The man said something, but he couldn't hear the words. He turned in his seat and aimed the gun at an auburn-haired woman standing on his left. She wore a bullet-proof vest over a beige suit. The woman said something, and again he couldn't hear the words, only a voice in his head. The woman turned and ran back towards the open door. He turned again, and aimed at the man. - He was sitting opposite him, and could see the almost comical expression of surprise in the man's face as his gun fired. Once. Twice. Three times. He kept firing at the man as he collapsed onto the floor, until his gun was empty... Running. The scene had changed and he was running through the woods, chasing someone who was just ahead, but constantly just out of reach... His gun was in his hand, and his eyes were fixed on the point ahead of him which he was heading for. The trees vanished suddenly, and he was standing at the edge of a fast-flowing river. A man was trying to wade across it, still trying to escape him... He calmly raised his gun, and fired... Mulder sat up in bed, sweat glistening on his brow. It had been another dream, but had seemed so real. He swallowed hard. His mind replayed over and over again the image of the man collapsing into the river, and beginning to float downstream, his face below the water. Surely he couldn't have killed all these people, as his dreams appeared to be suggesting? Mulder's mouth went dry, and he got out of bed to go downstairs for a glass of water. Treading carefully so as not to awake Lucy, he was surprised to see her already in the kitchen, standing looking out of the window. She turned when she heard him come into the room. "Hi, Steve." "Hi. - I just came for a glass of water." he noticed as he moved forward that she was holding a mug of hot tea between her hands. "So how come you're up at this time?" "I just couldn't sleep." she replied quietly, "How about you?" "Bad dreams woke me." he answered carefully, - he didn't want to alarm her about his possible past unless he was sure of his facts. "I thought I heard you muttering in your sleep." she nodded. He tried to smile, but it was only a weak gesture. Turning on the tap he filled a glass with water, but found himself looking at it suspiciously before raising it to his lips. he thought to himself, and smiled. Sipping the drink, he joined Lucy in looking out of the window at the stars, and tried to banish thoughts of his unpleasant dreams. End of part 1. I'd greatly appreciate any comments or constructive criticism from fellow X-Philes. Email me at . Danielle Culverson. Fugitive (2/3) Scully came out of her kitchen and crossed the corridor to her main room. She held a mug of strong coffee in one hand, and a video tape in the other, which hung weakly at her side. Crossing the main room to her video recorder, she glanced at the label on the tape before slotting it into the machine. "21.2.97. - Corridor 4." Scully moved back to the couch, and sat down, raising her legs onto the couch so that she was more comfortable. She put her mug down on a coaster on the floor at her side, and pinched the beginning of a headache from her nose. Picking up the remote control for the t.v. and video, she switched them on. The t.v. screen showed the image of a corridor, shown from a the position of a camera above the window at the far end to the elevator. In the bottom right hand corner of the screen was the date, 21.2.97, and the current time at recording, 8.07am. Scully pressed the button for picture search, and watched the day pass at high speed. She had managed to persuade the caretaker of Mulder's apartment building to let her borrow the surveillance tapes for Mulder's corridor for the day he went missing, and the day following. For most of the tape the corridor was quiet, but as evening approached people started to come and go. No-one had gone near the door to her partner's apartment. Finally she saw Mulder come out of the elevator. Slowing the tape to normal speed again, she saw that he was wearing the suit he had worn to the office on the day she had last seen him, - indeed, that was where he must have just come from. - He went up to his door, took out his keys and unlocked it, and went inside. As the door closed behind him, Scully speeded the tape up again. About half an hour later according to the clock on the screen, Mulder's door reopened, and once again she slowed the tape. Mulder came out, dressed in dark blue sweat pants and a white t-shirt. He was obviously about to go for his evening jog. He went to the elevator at the end of the corridor, stepped inside when it arrived, and the doors closed over him. Looking closely Scully could just make out the floor number at the side of the elevator, and she saw it go straight down to the ground floor. She speeded the tape up again, and tried to keep her eyes open as people came and went, but she saw no sign of her partner. Half an hour later the tape ran out, and she had to replace it with the other one. There was still no sign of her partner ever returning. * * * Mulder carried two mugs into Lucy's main room, and passed one to her. She was sitting on the two-seater sofa, with the t.v. opposite her on. She looked up at him, and smiled. "Thank you, Steve." He nodded, smiled, and sat down beside her. They had been out for a picnic that day, which he had found both enjoyable and exhausting. While he was increasingly discovering how much he enjoyed Lucy's company, he had spent the day worrying about his past, and possibly being recognised by someone. - How did he know what to avoid if he didn't know what he'd done? Mulder tried to concentrate on the t.v. program showing as he drank his tea, but once he had finished the drink, he found it harder and harder not to let his thoughts drift either to the gun beneath his mattress, or the woman at his side. Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, he realised that Lucy was very pretty. She had long, light brown hair which was almost completely straight. Her eyes were a similar light brown, and were set in a perfectly oval face. She tended to wear light, floaty clothes such as the cheese-cloth blouse and delicate floral skirt she was currently wearing. She seemed almost like a flower herself, although something about her seemed to be hidden, held back... Mulder forced his eyes back to the television set, only to be greeted a couple of moments later by the credits at the end of the program. Lucy picked up the remote control, and pressed the mute button, turning off the sound as the adverts came on. She turned to Mulder, and from the look in her brown eyes he immediately knew that she had been aware of his earlier close scrutiny. He looked down, and slowly moved one hand forward to touch hers, waiting to see how she would respond. When she did not pull away, he carefully took both of her hands in his, and looked up at her face again. "Lucy, I... I don't know what my current situation is, but... I like you, - a lot." He swallowed. It seemed very difficult for him to say the words, and something in the back of his mind asked why he found it so hard to talk about his feelings. She smiled slightly, and he had to look down for a minute to gather his thoughts. As he looked at her slender hands, he saw a pale band around one finger, where a wedding ring must once have protected it from the sun. Running one finger over the band, he looked up at her again. "Are you married?" Lucy looked down at the pale band on her third finger, and shook her head. "I was, but we're... separated." The tone of her voice, and the pain she obviously still felt over this issue rang warning bells in Mulder's head. "What happened?" he asked gently. She shook her head, without raising it to meet his gaze. "Please, I don't want to talk about it. - Not now." After speaking she raised her head, and their eyes met. Mulder lifted one hand to gently stroke the side of her face. "Okay." he said softly. Lucy smiled faintly, before taking the hand that was stroking her face in hers again, and squeezing it gently. * * * Scully walked along the pavement on Mulder's usual jogging route, which she assumed was the route he had taken when he had gone for his jog after she had seen him leave his apartment on the surveillance tapes. Scully was growing tired. She held a photograph of her partner in one hand, and had been walking round and round the route for the last three hours, stopping anyone she saw to ask them if they had seen her partner on the night in question. So far most of her answers had been negative. It was getting late in the afternoon now, and people were coming home from work. The roads were busier, and everyone was interested only in getting home to their families and their dinners. Scully had placed a "Missing" advert in one of the local papers in the hope that she might have some luck that way, but so far there had been no response at all. Pausing by the park, Scully looked over the fence at some children playing on the swings. Two women were watching them as they talked together on a nearby bench. Scully stood and watched for several minutes, seeing the children chase each other around the playground, and push each other on the swings until they flew high in the air. Finally her conscience moved her on again, and as she turned away from the park she saw an elderly lady walking a Jack Russel terrier along the side of the road. Lifting the picture again, Scully unfolded her ID, and walked up to the woman. "Excuse me, madam, I'm Dana Scully with the FBI. - Could you tell me if you were in this area three nights ago?" "I always walk Trixie this way." the woman replied, her tone suggestive that this much was obvious, and Scully should have been able to see that without asking. Scully held up the photo. "Could you tell me if you saw this man on that night?" The woman peered closely at the picture, and then nodded a grudging assent. "I see him a lot." she told Scully, "He always runs this route. - I think I saw him Friday... Yes, I'm sure I did." "Do you remember where?" Scully asked, her hopes raised a little. "Sure I do." the woman turned and pointed to a side road Scully had been heading for, "Just around that corner." "And did he seem okay to you?" "Sure. - He nodded hello as he ran past, and that was it." "There wasn't anyone strange hanging around that you noticed?" Scully asked. The woman shook her head. "Thank you, madam." The two women separated, and Scully headed for the road the woman had pointed out. - It seemed her partner had got this far, but beyond that, what had happened to him? * * * Mulder took the gun out from beneath the mattress in his room, and turned it over in his hands slowly. He still had no idea why he had it, and the images his dreams brought him were only making him more afraid. The door opened, and Lucy came in. She froze in horror when she saw what he was holding, her hand still resting on the door handle. "Steve?" she asked uncertainly. He looked up at her, and carefully put the gun down on the bedside cabinet with the holster before turning back to face Lucy, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know." he answered her unspoken question, "When you brought me here after the accident, I found it tied to my ankle. - I've no idea why I was carrying it." Lucy closed the door carefully, and crossed the room to sit next to him on the bed. He looked down, unable to meet her eyes in the face of what he might have dragged her into if he really was on the run. "I keep having dreams. - I see myself killing people, threatening them with that. I don't know why I was doing it. I'm not even sure if the dreams are really memories or not." "Perhaps you're a law enforcement officer." Lucy suggested. Mulder shrugged. "Maybe, - but why was I carrying the gun when I was off-duty, and why hidden beneath my sweat pants if I was?" he asked. Lucy heard the fear in his voice. "Well, if it's an issue revolver, it will have a serial number on it which we can trace." she told him, matter-of-factly. Mulder eagerly reached for the gun again, and looked at it closely, searching for any kind of identification marking. There was none, and his expression visibly deflated as he passed the gun to Lucy so she could check in case he had missed it. She shook her head, and he lowered his. "So many people..." he muttered, "Why did I kill so many people? I can't believe that I would do something like that." Lucy gingerly reached out and touched his arm with her hand. "Look, you need some rest, and I need to think about this awhile, so why don't you sleep on it, and we'll talk again in the morning?" Mulder looked up at her, meeting her eyes for a moment, before nodding, and looking away again. Lucy put the gun back on his bedside cabinet, and then left the room. He stared at the weapon for several minutes. - Why had she left it with him, given what he had just told her? Finally having to admit that he was tired, though, he started to get ready for bed. * * * He crept through the darkened corridor, positive he had heard a noise, and knowing that he shouldn't be there. He had broken into the building for some reason, and now there was someone nearby. They knew he was there, he was certain. Finding a door, he ran out into the street. Footsteps behind him, also running, and being joined by more pairs of feet. He glanced back. - There were at least four of them now, and they had guns. One of them fired at him as he rounded a corner into an alleyway. He raced towards the low wall at the far end, and somehow scrambled up onto it. Jumping down on the other side... ... and landing in a brightly lit room. An auburn-haired woman rushed in with her right hand resting on a revolver in a holster at her side, and her left holding up an identification badge. She was shouting something, but he couldn't hear her words. Couldn't hear them, but he knew what they were all the same. <"FBI!"> Sudden darkness. He was standing with his back to a wall, waiting for someone. A man emerged from behind the wall, and he grabbed him, throwing him to the ground, and then throwing himself on top of him. They rolled back and forth, but he was constantly in control. He pulled the man to his feet by the scruff of his t-shirt, and threw him backwards against a car, before pulling out his gun, and aiming it at the man. The auburn-haired woman appeared on his right, her gun drawn and aimed at him. She was saying something, but he couldn't make out her words. He looked back at the man cowering in front of the car, and a moment later the woman fired at him. The bullet went into his shoulder, and he fell... Down, down,.... And awoke with a sharp gasp. His fingers quested towards his left shoulder, where he felt the shiny skin of a small healed wound in his shoulder that he had never noticed before. - Surely this meant his dreams were true?... "Steve?" It was Lucy. He raised his head and saw her getting up from a chair where she had apparently been sitting as he slept. "Are you okay?" she asked gently. He swallowed, and tried to frame a coherent answer as his thoughts clamoured for an answer to the questions that tormented him. Finally he was able to raise his face to look her in the eye, and shake his head slightly. "Lucy, I... I think I'm on the run from the FBI." "What?" her voice was still kind. "In my dreams, there was an FBI agent. I was fighting with some man, and I pulled out my gun and was about to shoot him. Then the Fed came along and aimed her gun at me. - She shot me." "Shot you?" Lucy sounded concerned. Mulder nodded, and pushed the sheet back a little so that she could see the bullet-wound in his left shoulder. She gasped quietly, and then asked, "What happened? Did you run?" "I don't know. - I don't think so. The last thing I remember is falling, and then I woke up." "If you're wanted by the FBI, why didn't the Fed arrest you then?" Mulder shook his head, "I really don't know. - Perhaps they did, and couldn't hold me. - I keep wondering why I was killing all these people. I don't seem to have been in law enforcement, and surely murder couldn't have been *justified* in so many cases... I'd wonder if I was deranged or something, but the whole thing just seems so calculated. - Like I knew who it was I was after each time." His face paled suddenly, as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. "What if I was a contract killer?" he asked in a weak voice. Lucy stared at him for a long moment. "I don't think so," she said finally, "there must be another reason for this that we haven't thought of." Mulder gazed at her as she took his hands in hers, and she saw the worry and pain in his eyes. "You didn't enjoy killing those people," she said, "I can see that. - So I'm going to go to the library to see if I can find any records that might lead us to find out who you really are." Gratitude filled his face, and he moved his arms to embrace her and draw her close to him. She acquiesced for a moment ,but then pulled away. His eyes filled with concern, and in a low voice, he said, "He really hurt you, didn't he?" She nodded. There was no need for her to ask who he meant. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hands in hers for a long moment as her eyes threatened tears. He said nothing, knowing that this was a private pain of hers, that she would only share when she was ready. Finally she got to her feet, and left the room. I'd greatly appreciate any comments or constructive criticism from fellow X-Philes. Email me at . Danielle Culverson. Fugitive (3/3) Scully sat down in her imitation leather swivel chair in the Bureau basement office, and stared at the newspaper on the desk in front of her for a long moment without moving. Then, almost mechanically, she turned the pages over until she came to the notices. There she saw a large advertisment picture of her missing partner's face. Below were a few words. - Missing. Anyone with any details phone 555-6431. Missing. She couldn't lift her eyes from the picture for a long time. She still had absolutely no idea of what might have happened to her partner, although over the last couple of nights her nightmares had all too readily suggested some of the horrific fates that might have been his. The phone on her desk rang, and she picked it up absently. "Scully." It was the Assistant Director's secretary. - Skinner wanted to see her in his office as soon as possible. Scully sighed, and stared at the photograph as she hung up. - She couldn't remember many times when she had been called into Skinner's office urgently, and it hadn't been bad news. A sudden pain lanced through her as the image of Skinner telling her they had found Mulder's dead body came into her mind. Spurred on by the sudden ache inside her, she got to her feet, and headed towards Skinner's second floor office. The secretary told her to go straight in when she arrived. Skinner was apparently waiting for her, staring out of the window behind his desk when she entered the inner office. He asked her to sit down, and she did, all this with an ache in her heart and a voice whispering in her head that her partner was dead, dead, dead. "Agent Scully, I'm afraid we're going to have to scale down the search for Agent Mulder." Skinner began abruptly. A feeling of relief that her partner might still be alive somewhere rushed through Scully, only to be quickly replaced by anger. - He had only been missing just over a week! "Why, sir?" she asked through clenched teeth. "There is nothing else to go on. - The Bureau has used all it's resources in the search for Agent Mulder, but we've turned up nothing, and there are no more clues to go on. - We're at a dead end, and there are other things which need to be done. We'll keep the case open, of course, but..." "Sir," Scully interrupted, "with all due respect, it's only been nine days. - Agent Mulder deserves better than this." "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, there's nothing more we can do. - You're being reassigned to a case which has just come in to VCU..." "No, sir." Scully said quietly, shaking her head. Skinner glanced at her. - He had known the two agents were close, but this was more the sort of reaction he would have expected from Mulder. "You *are* being reassigned to the new case..." he repeated. Scully got to her feet suddenly, and anger was shining in her eyes as she declared, "Sir, I don't know who's put pressure on you to sideline this case, but I am not going to stop looking for Mulder. - He may be an embarrassment to the Bureau, but he's my partner, and I'm going to find him, no matter what the consequences of that might be." With that she turned suddenly on her heel, and walked swiftly out of the office. Skinner stared after her, a case-folder in his hands. * * * Lucy walked slowly along the streets towards her apartment. She had spent most of the day at the library, and had found nothing. - She knew that Steve would be disappointed that she had no news. Her head was thumping from spending so long flicking through micronised newspaper pages, looking for anything which might indicate who the man she had run down was, but there had been nothing. Of course there was no reason why there should have been, but she had hoped... The sun was low in the sky, and the streets were bathed in a slightly orangey light. A couple of children stood astride their bikes outside a newsagents, sucking ice-pops. From habit, after looking at so many newspapers that day, Lucy's eyes strayed to the current news board standing outside the shop. She immediately recognised the face of the man she saw there. "Steve!" she gasped, and grabbed her handbag, fumbling for her pen so she could note down the number beneath the picture. 555-6431. Maybe the search hadn't been so fruitless, after all. Hurrying home, Lucy didn't even go to check on Steve before she went to the phone, and quickly called the number she had written down. The line rang several times, and then a woman picked up at the other end. "Scully." Lucy recognised the open sound of a mobile phone. "Umm, did you place the advert about the missing man?" "Yes?" Sudden hope filled the answering voice, followed by a rapid question, "Have you seen him?" "Yes. - I need to know something, - is he wanted for anything?" "Wanted?" "By the police? Or the FBI?" "No." the voice at the other end sounded slightly bemused, if a little confused. "He *is* FBI. - He's my partner at the Bureau." "Oh, fine, where shall we meet you?" "Umm... the Jefferson Memorial? I can be there in ten minutes." "It'll take us a half hour, but we'll come straight over." Lucy put the phone down, and turned to see Mulder entering the room. She belatedly realised she hadn't even asked the woman what his real name was. "Who was that?" Mulder asked, coming over to her and handing her the mug of tea he had made when he heard her arrive. "Someone who knows you. - She placed a missing ad in one of the local papers, and I saw it on my way back from the library." "She knows who I am?" he sounded hopeful, and a little afraid as well. Lucy nodded, smiling. "Yes. - And you're not wanted by the FBI. - You *are* an FBI agent." His eyes widened in surprise, and Lucy laughed. "Come on. - I told her we'd meet her as soon as we could at the Jefferson Memorial." Mulder nodded dumbly, and followed Lucy out of the apartment, and to her car. * * * Mulder and Lucy walked along one of the many paths which meandered around the Washington Monument, the Reflecting Pool, and the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials. The area was fairly quiet, with all the tourists and most of the business-people having gone home. They made their way around the Tidal Basin to the point at which the Jefferson Memorial stood, and looked around. An auburn-haired woman was sitting on the steps of the Memorial, looking out at the water, and plainly waiting for someone as well. Mulder immediately recognised her as the woman from his dream, the one who had shot him. Behind her, the tall figure of the third president was lit up in the gathering darkness. Then she saw them. She got to her feet, and ran down the steps towards them, her face lit up with happiness. When she reached them though, she addressed Mulder, and her tone was accusatory. "Where have you been, Mulder? - I've been worried sick thinking that you were dead, or that *they* had taken you again, and all the time you were perfectly alright..." Scully trailed as she saw Mulder flinch back from her, and turn slightly towards the brown-haired woman at his side, as though for support. A stab of pain went through her, - it had always been *her* he'd turned to when he needed help before. Her eyes pleading, she looked to the woman for her answers. "Hi, I'm Lucy Carvelly." she offered her hand. "Dana Scully." the agent replied, shaking it. Lucy nodded to Mulder. "He doesn't remember you. - I hit him with my car when he was jogging last week, and he lost his memory. He's been staying at my apartment ever since." "You don't remember me?" Scully turned to Mulder. Her voice was weak. He shook his head. "Except for the dreams." he muttered, "You shot me." Scully smiled faintly, "Yes, I did, to stop you killing a man when you'd been drugged. - You were borderline psychotic from the drug, and I had to do something before you did something you'd regret all your life." Mulder nodded in understanding. Lucy smiled slightly. "When he found his gun, he thought perhaps he was a criminal or something," she explained to Scully, "especially since he kept dreaming about shooting people." A smile tugged at Scully's lips. "Actually, he's rather reticent about shooting anybody. - A dead perp. doesn't give you any answers, or something along those lines." Mulder stared at her, and finally asked, "Who am I? - What's my name?" "Fox William Mulder." she replied. He nodded, but the name made no impression on him. She gazed at him for a moment, registering this fact, and then suggested, "Perhaps I can help you to get your memory back. - Some of the things in our office might jog your thoughts." "Okay, sure." Mulder shrugged. Scully turned and led the way to the J. Edgar Hoover building. * * * After getting a visitors pass for Lucy, the three of them went downstairs to the basement of the FBI building, where the partners' office was. "Are you two not very well liked, or something, being sent down here out of the way?" Lucy asked. Scully smiled faintly. "Something like that. - We're a bit of an embarrassment to the Bureau I guess." Mulder said nothing, but was looking around him and drinking everything in as he moved along the corridor and into the stuffy room he shared with Scully. There were papers everywhere, and pictures all over the walls. "This is your desk." Scully indicated the scruffier of the two, before commenting, "On a good day. - There's normally more work on it than that." Mulder raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Lucy. "Are you remembering any of this, Fox?" she asked him. Scully, who had gone to stand by her desk, spluttered at the woman's use of her partner's first name. They both looked at her. "What's wrong?" Lucy asked. Scully tried not to laugh, "It's just, he hates his first name." Lucy glanced at Mulder who asked in surprise, "I do?" Scully raised an eyebrow, and nodded, "You even made your parents call you Mulder. - Although around here you're more commonly called "Spooky". - But you hate that as well." Mulder shrugged, and turned around slowly. Scully picked up a photograph from his desk, and handed it to him. "Here, this is a picture of your sister." "My sister?" The girl in the photo was only eight years old. Scully nodded. "That's one of the last pictures taken of her before she went missing. - She's four years younger than you, and her name is Samantha." "What happened to her?" Mulder asked. Scully shrugged. "Nobody knows. - You witnessed it happen, but you never remembered it properly, despite the fact that you normally have a photographic memory. You believe she was abducted." "A child snatcher?" Lucy asked. Scully shook her head. "No. - Aliens." She smiled at the comic look of surprise which crossed Lucy's face, and noticed that no such expression crossed Mulder's. - Apparently even without his memory he could accept that some things were "out there". He turned towards the filing cabinets, and opened the top drawer of one. Rifling through the files, he pulled one out, glanced through it, noting his handwriting, and his signature, and then replaced it. Then he took out another. After trying about five different files, he pulled out one marked "X-file 73317 - Dana Scully". Intrigued, he opened the file, and looked a little more closely at it's contents than he had the previous five. His gaze fell on a photograph. It had obviously been taken from a piece of video film, and showed the back of a car, with the trunk open, and the terrified face of Scully peering out, a rag tied around her mouth. Scully. Staring at the picture, he felt a knife twist in his heart. - He had been unable to stop Barry taking her then, just as he had been unable to save her from being abducted, or to stop her being kidnapped by Donnie Pfaster... Mulder looked up from the file in amazement. - Without even realising it, he had remembered. - There had been no sudden flash of returning memory, no falling barrier, he had just remembered, the same as he always did. Scully was looking at him in concern, sensing something was wrong. "Mulder? Are you okay?" "I... I remember." he said, his voice weak. He sat down suddenly in the chair by the computer, which was in front of his desk. "I remember." he repeated. Lucy moved over to him. "Fox?" He looked up at her with a sad smile on his face. "Scully's right, I do prefer Mulder." he admitted. Standing opposite him, Scully smiled with relief. * * * Mulder entered Skinner's office alone. He knew that the Assistant Director hadn't heard what had happened yet, and wasn't going to be happy with him when he saw him. Not happy was an understatement. Skinner looked up from the report he was completing, but didn't bother to invite Mulder to sit down. "So, Agent Mulder, you return to us. - I suppose you know that your partner nearly worried herself sick over you, and then nearly got herself thrown out of the Bureau for pursuing the search after she had been reassigned?" Mulder could only nod before Skinner launched into another round of accusations. "So where have you been for the last two weeks? - If you've been out chasing one of your X-files, or on some wild hunch, you're going to be in such deep water that you won't even be able to see the surface when you're drowning, no matter how many contacts you have in Congress." The Assistant Director paused, and glared at the agent. "So what's your excuse?" "What can I say, sir? - I got hit by a car." "Of all the... What?" "I got hit by a car, and sustained amnesia. It was only Agent Scully's advertisment in one of the Alexandria papers that brought me back here to discover who I was." Skinner stared at his most disruptive agent. "And where have you been for the last two weeks? - In hospital?" "No sir, staying with the woman who knocked me down." "Staying with her! - Why didn't you go to hospital?" "Two reasons, sir. - First she's afraid of being recognised. Her husband used to hit her, and she ran away from him. She's afraid that he's looking for her." "And the second reason?" Mulder reddened, and looked down, "After finding my gun, but no ID, and then remembering shooting "Pusher" Modell and Wade in dreams, I believed I must be on the run for murder." he admitted. Skinner stared, and then started to laugh. Mulder stared back in surprise as his usually impassive boss guffawed with laughter, and rocked in his seat. - Perhaps he might not be in trouble, after all. The End. I'd greatly appreciate any comments or constructive criticism from fellow X-Philes. Email me at . Danielle Culverson.