Title: A Life Unfinished
Author: Circe
Rating: PG
Classification: S - MSR
Spoilers: references to Millennium, lots of little ones up to Season 8
Timeline: let's forget about the mess the show has made with the timeline and say this takes place 5-6 months after Mulder's abduction.
Disclaimer: I make no claims on the characters or the show. Fox, 1013 Productions owns them.
Archiving: yours for the asking

Summary: a return story

Notes: many thanks to Carol

When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone...

Dante's Prayer, Loreena McKennitt

He was allowed to choose one memory. They told him that's all he could have to take back with him. He would be left with motor abilities, speech, and most of his skills, but every other memory would be wiped clean. He would have no identity left. He didn't understand how they could take everything else and know what to leave. And why torture him further? Did the others have to go through this before they were returned?

But he had learned over the months it was not his place to question. There was no point.

He had to choose something that would tie him irrevocably back to this life. It had to be something that would trigger deep emotions. It had to be something he could cling to. It had to be something that he could turn to for comfort. It had to be a memory of her because he knew she would find him.

He chose a kiss. It was a first kiss...

He lived in the memory until he woke up. His first conscious memory was waking in a hospital bed. A nurse nearby said something about getting the doctor. They are surprised, he thought, maybe I wasn't supposed to wake up. There was hurrying about the room. Suddenly he was surrounded by a group of people. He tried to ask where he was, but something prevented him. There was something in his mouth. They told him to lie still and relax while they worked to remove it.

It didn't take long, but they still had to unhook him from various machines. They all but ignored him while they worked. He was groggy, and he didn't think he could fall asleep with the commotion around him, but he did...

He had a dream. He was standing with someone. All he could see was red hair...Red glowing hair. He moved closer to the person. The person turned to look at him as he neared...

He woke up before he could see the person's face.

He woke to the sound of hushed voices. "Have the authorities been notified?...How can he just appear from nowhere?...Someone has to know him...Someone must be missing him..."

A group of women were standing at the end of his bed. The nurses dispersed from the group leaving a woman in hospital scrubs wearing a white lab coat over them. She was perusing a clipboard. Seeing he was awake, she walked over and started to speak, "Good afternoon, sir. Can you understand me?" He nodded. She continued, "Good. My name is Dr. Lau. I've been your physician since you arrived here. Do you have any recollection of how you got here?"

His mind searched back, but got no further than when he first woke up. He shook his head. She began to tell him about his current condition. There was significant muscle loss so he would need extensive physiotherapy and movement would be difficult for a few weeks. His vitals were good. Better than when he arrived. They hadn't expected him to make it when he was first brought in although they could find no reason for his condition. There was evidence of injury and damage to his chest, mouth, and face. Fresh scars were visible across his entire body.

She was finishing up some superficial tests on him as she was talking. Then before she left, she asked, "Sir, can you tell us your name?"

His name? He was surprised. He thought they knew who he was. He thought hard for a moment. Surely, he knew who he was. Something as simple as his name had to be within his grasp. Nothing came to him.

Finally, he answered her with a hoarse, "No."

She nodded and left him to rest.

Scully was in the office with her feet propped up on the desk. She had heard all the warnings about swollen ankles but dismissed them. She wasn't going to let it bother her. She continued to work without complaint.

She took private moments like this to rest and reflect on what pregnancy was doing to her body. She wouldn't let anyone see this, not Skinner, not her mother, and definitely not John Doggett.

Doggett was angry with her when she finally confirmed his suspicions that she was indeed expecting. He was her partner whether she liked it or not and he deserved to know that detail. How could she put herself in so much danger in her condition? How could she risk it considering all it had taken for her to get in this state in the first place? She tried to retaliate that it was a personal matter.

"Personal matter or not, you can't leave your pregnancy at home when you come to work, Agent Scully. As your partner, I think I deserved to know that detail. I deserved to know just how much I had to look out for," he had lectured.

It was true. He had looked out for her even when she ditched him. He was a good partner and she was willing to admit that. In fact, from a professional standpoint, he was ideal. She remembered in the early days of their partnership, she had wished Mulder had been more like this. Doggett never asked her who the father was. He allowed that to remain her personal matter. Scully wondered what his thoughts were on that subject but decided it was best that they both left it alone.

Scully was examining John Doe files today. She received them on a daily basis. Once it became clear to her that the leads to find Mulder were drying up, she asked to receive the reports from all over the country in the hopes that he would be returned.

Doggett thought her enthusiasm would have waned by now. Every day that passed, his promise to find Mulder hung heavier between them. There were no leads. He had nowhere to look and nothing to show for it. But she continued to read over the reports looking for anything. She spent every moment she wasn't working reading them. Occasionally she would insist on investigating some of the more unusual cases that had some paranormal characteristic. She would argue, "It could be a lead. It could point us in the right direction."

Lately, out of frustration, Scully had asked to receive reports from other countries.

Doggett didn't know what to do. He didn't want to diminish her hope, which seemed to get stronger with her growing frustration. But he knew, as she should, that the likelihood of finding Mulder alive was fading. And the stress couldn't be good for her or the baby. He didn't want to come off as trying to take care of her. He knew she was a capable agent and a formidable woman. But he couldn't help his concern. She was pregnant. He couldn't get passed that fact. And so he tried to do everything he could for her so she could stay off her feet. She would sigh and roll her eyes whenever he insisted, but lately with her growing girth, she was allowing herself the luxury of letting him do things for her.

Doggett walked into the office with two styrofoam coffee cups. He placed one on the desk without looking at her. He waited for her to try to inconspicuously hide whatever she was reading as she usually did. She looked up at him, "Decaf?"

"Of course. You don't have to remind me, you know," was Doggett's gruff reply.

She chose to ignore him. The smell of coffee was enough to rouse her senses. There was something in the scent that triggered a memory of how coffee could bolster her. She had neglected to hide the files she was examining. Doggett tilted his head to get a better look at it.

"Anything?" he asked. He knew what she was looking at. Once she had tossed them aside, he would read them over to see if she had missed something. She never did, he knew that, but his search had been ineffective and he wanted to feel useful to her. He walked over and sat at his own desk.

"No," she sighed pushing the file away from her. She sighed deeply again, "Maybe this is the wrong approach. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough."

"What other approach can we take? You've questioned the Praise boy numerous times with the belief that he has some form of contact with Mulder. Even he can't tell you where he is. We've researched Mulder's movements in the last weeks before he disappeared, and that just left more questions. What else can we do but wait for evidence to come to us?"

She was quiet. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at herself. Her hand was caressing her stomach. Doggett watched her. Something about her demeanor saddened him. Not a day passed that he did not wish that he had met her under different circumstances. He spoke quietly, "We'll keep trying." She glanced up at him as if he woke her. She nodded and picked up the files again...

He had more dreams. Since he first woke, his dreams were of two kinds. Either they were about trying to discover who the mystery redhead was, or they were of sounds. Whirring and screaming were all he heard in those dreams. All he could see in those dreams were blinding lights and flashes of metal. He preferred the dreams about the red haired person. There was something comforting in it.

His dreams were getting clearer. He was watching a television while standing with the woman. He was sure it was a woman now. But every time he neared her she turned, he would wake before he could see her face.

His own face provided no recollections for him. He could have been staring at anyone when he looked in the mirror. His hair was really shaggy and he had a full beard. He wondered if he was supposed to look that way or if his illness was responsible for his current appearance. He decided a haircut and shave would be necessary. He needed to see if the face underneath provided any clues.

He had become popular with the staff in this department. They liked his sense of humor. The group of nurses and orderlies in his section insisted he needed a name. They were tired of calling him a John Doe, or "that guy," he suggested "Norm" for "normal" since all his test results suggested that diagnosis and he desperately wanted to feel it. They liked it and soon the name became known to even his doctors.

Various doctors had come to see Norm in the days that passed. Specialists couldn't understand his sudden recovery. Physiotherapists worked with him daily. He was getting stronger and he was regaining his abilities. He was lucky, he was told, to have been brought to a university hospital, the leading research hospital in the country, that just happened to have a physiotherapy school on campus. He didn't feel lucky.

There were no records of Norm. Local authorities could not identify him. No missing persons in the area fit his description. They made promises of contacting other cities and regions once their workload subsided; however it was obvious that his case wasn't a priority for them. They took his fingerprints and dental records for further investigation.

Some of the staff was afraid that Norm could perhaps be a homeless person. He just showed up in the hospital one day in tattered clothes. He was so scruffy looking. They found him lying on a gurney waiting in Emergency. There was no one with him and no one had checked him in. His condition necessitated that he be worked on immediately. He was a mystery. But those who tended him were sure he wasn't homeless. He was handsome and intelligent and obviously educated; someone must care about him and what has become of him.

Overall everyone was pleased with his recuperation. But Norm was not. He was frustrated with his inability to remember who he was and where he had come from. The neurologists couldn't comprehend his apparent amnesia.

He was a puzzling case, and one day a neurology professor was doing the rounds with a group of students to examine him, giving a lecture in his room. He was uncomfortable with the scrutiny of so many people, but luckily they soon moved to another area of the room where they could look at his x-rays.

The lecture continued loudly enough for all to hear, "There is no explanation for the amnesia. There was no obvious recent damage to the skull. If this was a damaged skull..."

He no longer listened to what any of them were saying. His mind focused on the words "damaged skull," he felt it had triggered something. As soon as the words were said, a vision of the red haired woman in his dreams came to his mind. He whispered the words to himself in the hopes that his mouth would say what his brain could not.

Maybe he couldn't remember because of some trauma. Hadn't there been documented cases of hysterical amnesia? How did he know that? It seemed inherent to him. Maybe he was a therapist or a shrink in his other life. He wondered if regressive hypnosis would help. He could almost hear a voice say there was no scientific evidence to give that approach any merit. He shook his head wondering where that thought came from.

He decided to ask one of the student volunteers who seemed to be smitten with him if she could get some books from the library for him. He knew the titles he wanted. He even knew the library call numbers. She was thrilled to help and got him everything he needed. His success with her made him wonder if he had a way with women.

In the following days, he pored over the texts, absorbing all he could. He tried several methods to remember. But very few helped. It seemed like time was the only thing that improved his memory and his abilities. With time his dreams were becoming clearer...

Norm was dreaming again. It was the clearest dream he'd had yet. He was in a waiting room, watching a television above him. The woman was standing close by. Everyone on the television was embracing. He had an unstoppable urge to do the same. He looked at her. There was more than a passing familiarity between them. He knew her, but it was like looking at her for the first time. She was beautiful. He hesitated briefly, half because of his deep respect for her and half because of his fear of her reaction. But he finally gave in. He leaned into her, and as if she expected him, she tilted her head up to accept him and closed her eyes as he neared. He kissed her, and she did nothing to resist. When they parted, he was hesitant, unsure if he had done the right thing. She looked a bit surprised, but she smiled. That smile warmed him and gave him confidence. He commented that the world hadn't ended and she concurred.

He woke with a start. He held onto the scraps of the dream as they quickly fled his consciousness. He was sure this was a memory and not just his subconscious dealing with his current condition.

There was a woman. He knew the woman. He kissed her. She kissed him back. What else? Her hair just reached her jaw line. He tried to remember everything he could about her. She was a clue, a key to his past, to his identity. Her eyes...what color were they? Blue? She was much shorter than he was. He had to lean over to reach her. What was her name? Did he say it? Did she say his name? Why would he talk about the world ending?

He had started writing down his dreams to keep a record of anything new that he remembered. He was beginning to write when Dr. Lau appeared. She let him know that he was well enough to be released anytime. Because he had nowhere to go they were setting him up on some social programs to get him on his feet. A social worker would be meeting with him shortly. He would have to return for physiotherapy and check ups.

The social worker sympathized with him. He set up Norm with everything he needed including a therapist. Norm requested a job at the university, preferably the hospital. He wanted access to the library and the resources that the university could provide.

The social worker, Jacob, let Norm know that he had contacted the authorities and that he sped up the process. They had now passed along Norm's files and they were researching missing person records across the country. Nothing had come up so far. They would start researching international missing persons databases next. But because he could speak English and his accent was obviously North American, they would concentrate there. His description and fingerprints were sent to federal databases in Canada and the States. Jacob was sure they would hear something shortly.

Norm felt like they were finally paying attention to his plight. Jacob had set him up in a bachelor apartment. Although it was considered student housing it was clean and the price was right. He got Norm a job in the hospital as he asked. It was convenient. He could go to his physiotherapy and his therapist and work all in one location. And he had the choice of several libraries on campus where he could spend most of his time when he wasn't at the hospital.

He met his therapist, Alicia, later that day. Her office was comfortable and cozy. He sat in a large recliner while she sat at a nearby desk. They had an introductory conversation about her and her qualifications. He found himself staring at the chain around her neck. She noticed and held up the crucifix charm on the necklace and asked him, "Do you think this means something to you?" He nodded in reply and said, "But I'm not sure why." She suggested, "Perhaps religion is important to you," he shook his head and said, "I don't think that's it," he said nothing more on that subject.

Alicia examined his writings about his dreams. She concurred with him that this was most likely a memory and encouraged his exploration of the memory. She also implored him to keep a check on his feelings. Writing a journal of his feelings might be as useful as his dream log. It would put things in perspective.

Norm was discharged that day. Jacob drove Norm to what would be his home. There was snow on the ground. For some reason, Norm was surprised. He didn't expect it to be cold outside. He wondered how long he had been missing if he didn't anticipate that it would be winter.

The building was fairly new and nondescript. It was located a short drive west of the university. Jacob pointed out that there was a bus stop in front of his building so that Norm wouldn't have to walk far to catch it. He knew that walking long distances still wasn't easy for Norm, who refused to use crutches or a cane.

Norm spent his first day out of the hospital adjusting to his new abode. It was a furnished bachelor's apartment and not much to look at. Functional. But he had a beautiful view of a ravine that led to the lake.

Once Norm toured the place and Jacob had finally left after making sure he was okay for the fortieth time, he set himself at the small desk. He lined up the psychology texts for easy reference and placed his two journals in front of him. When he was finally pleased with the arrangement, he cracked open the new journal and stared at the blank page. It was a daunting prospect to write about how he felt. All he thought about since he first woke up was trying to remember. He moved away from the desk and stood to look out the window hoping it would inspire him to think clearly. His thoughts wandered to the woman in his dreams. He realized that his feelings were wrapped up in trying to decipher her identity as much as his. His anxiety and need were centred around her and he had to know why. He decided to write to her. Pleased with his idea, he sat and began to write:

I hope you are thinking of me. I hope you remember me
and what I was. I hope you miss me, although I wouldn't
want to cause you pain. I hope you find me, and in doing
so, help me find myself...

Though we share this humble path, alone How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly To touch the face of the stars

Dante's Prayer, Loreena McKennitt

Agent Doggett strode into the office as usual with two styrofoam cups and his latest peace offering to Agent Scully in the form of a muffin. He was not prepared to find Scully in such a state though. She was standing and waving her hand in the air. She held the phone to her ear with the other and she was yelling, "What do you mean you can't divulge that information? Don't tell me I don't have jurisdiction! I'm the only one who does!"

She slammed the phone down nearly knocking over the decaf coffee Doggett had just set down for her. She was livid. He wanted to placate her but by now he knew that only stood to anger her further. "What's going on?" he asked.

She tossed a file in his direction and said as he opened it, "It's him."

He gave her a surprised glance over the folder and began to scan the papers inside. "The FBI got the file yesterday," she explained, "Apparently the local authorities sat on it for a few weeks before distributing it to international missing persons databases. The prints and dental records are a match. We have to go."

"Whoa. Hold on. Where did you get this file? We're not supposed to have it. It was intended for DD Kersh. How did you get it?"

"I intercepted it," she said, "I just used some techniques you've employed in the past, Agent Doggett. I'm doing whatever it takes. You know Kersh won't handle this the way we will. Are you with me or not?"

He nodded. He imagined a mob of agents surrounding Mulder, as if to take him down. Yeah, Kersh wasn't beyond that. But he was surprised at her bravado. No matter how far fetched her ideas had sometimes been, she had pretty much always played by the book and she had taken exception with him when he hadn't.

She picked up the phone again and dialed. He started to ask, "Who are..."

"Skinner," she answered before he could finish. She called Skinner's private line. She whispered a few cryptic words into the phone and was answered with, "I'll be right down."

Scully hung up and then picked up the phone again. She turned to Doggett and said, "Hand me back that file. I'm going to call the hospital where he was treated and talk to his doctors."

Doggett held on to the file and said, "You have to slow down here, Agent Scully. Getting yourself worked up like this is not good for you."

"Don't tell me what to do here, Agent Doggett. I don't have time right now to debate what you think is best for me," she made a grab at the file in his hand. He let it go.

"Agent Scully, listen to me for a minute please. I am not against you here. I am just trying to point out that you are getting agitated. I'm not trying to be sexist, but it really isn't good for a woman in your condition. I'm just concerned about your well being here."

"As am I," came Skinner's low voice behind him. He closed the door behind him and added, "He's right Agent Scully. Let's figure out a plan here before we do anything rash and alert everyone to the fact that we know Mulder's whereabouts."

Scully felt as though they were bullying her, but once she sat down and took a deep breath, a wave of fatigue hit her hard. They were right. She couldn't risk allowing frustration to get to her right now. It wouldn't be good for her or the baby and it wouldn't help Mulder. But she needed to know more.

"All right. You boys figure out our strategy. I am going to call Mulder's doctors at the hospital to find out more about how he was found and his current condition."

Skinner nodded. Doggett was just glad she had calmed down enough to see that he was only trying to help. They formulated their plan.

Norm was just finishing in the washroom when he heard a knock. He wondered who it could be considering he knew no one. He opened the front door to a surprised Jacob, "Hey Jacob. I'm not late for work already, am I? It's only my first day!"

Jacob had been staring at him with a bewildered look and pointed out the obvious, "You shaved."

"Yeah, the beard didn't feel right," he said self-consciously stroking his chin.

"Sorry, I don't mean to stare, it's just that you look completely different. It's like I'm talking to someone else."

"Yeah, well for all we know, I am someone else."

"Right..." Jacob replied uncomfortably, "well, that's sort of what I'm here to talk to you about. Can we sit down?"

Norm motioned Jacob towards the dinette table. Jacob sat down and pulled some paper from his briefcase, saying, "I promised you that we would hear something shortly about your identity, and we have. We received these pages from the FBI last night."

"The FBI?!" Norm exclaimed, "What? Am I wanted?" He took the pages apprehensively from Jacob.

"No, Norm, you're an agent. These pages contain your statistical information. The last page contains information about your disappearance."

They sat quietly while Norm read the pages. He went over the statistical information first. His name was Fox William Mulder. He wondered why his parents felt the necessity to punish him right at birth with such a ridiculous first name and then wondered whether he had liked it or not. He was 39. His parents were both dead. His mother had recently passed away. He had a sister but she had disappeared nearly 30 years ago and was presumed deceased. It intrigued him that his sister had disappeared as well. He wasn't currently married and didn't have children. Was anyone missing him?

Jacob added, "One of your doctors in Washington DC has been on the phone all morning with Dr. Lau trying to get an update on your status. Dr. Lau is hoping she'll be able to better treat you once they get more of your medical records sent up."

So at least my doctor is concerned, he thought.

He read on. He had been a psychology major. He inwardly smiled at having guessed that correctly. He was impressed that he had attended Oxford. There was some cursory information about his service with the FBI. He had been transferred at his own request to some division called the X-Files. He had been transferred twice from that division after it had been closed only to return after it had been re-opened.

He had a "Dana Scully" listed as an emergency contact. That name triggered something. He thought hard and even said the name aloud. Suddenly he remembered the words "damaged skull" and he remembered when those words had triggered the image of the woman in his dreams. Now he realized the association. Could this be her? What was she to him?

Next he looked over the information regarding his disappearance. He was last seen by Assistant Director Skinner in Oregon. The report stated that they had been on an investigation in the woods of Bellefleure and he had simply walked off disappearing without a trace. "How did I end up here if I vanished in Oregon?" Norm wondered aloud. All Jacob could do was shrug. Then Norm shouted, "I've been gone since May?! Where the hell have I been?" He realized how ridiculous his words sounded.

Jacob was sympathetic, "Norm, I realize that this is a lot to take in and a lot of it may be a shock. You are going to need some time to digest this. I suggest you take a few days to do so. I've called the hospital to let them know that you won't be in..." Jacob trailed off. Norm read his expression. There was more to tell him but he couldn't figure out how.

"What else?" Norm pressed.

He let out the breath he had been holding, and said, "Some agents from the FBI will be here to interview you tomorrow. We asked them to give you more time, but they were quite insistent about seeing you right away. I've requested that we do it at Alicia's office so that you will be comfortable. I can be there too if you want."

"Does he...I mean, do I know these agents?" Norm asked.

"You should know two of them. One is your boss. He was with you when you disappeared. One is your partner. The other has been leading the task force into your disappearance. That's all they'd tell me."

Norm was quiet. He had no picture of what his boss was supposed to look like. And there was nothing in the papers in front of him about his partner. What did they want to ask him about? Would they take him back with them? Would they expect him to know them?

Finally Jacob spoke up, "I've taken the liberty of setting up an appointment with Alicia today. She has agreed to see you over the lunch hour because of the urgency of these circumstances. I highly suggest you discuss this with her."

Norm nodded. He would definitely need to talk.

Norm sat in the overstuffed recliner in Alicia's office with his hands clenched, "I don't think I want to see them."

"Norm, I can understand your worry, but eventually you are going to have to face your identity."

"I know."

Alicia changed the subject, "I read over your journal entry. I noticed you wrote it to someone. It seems to be the person in your dream. Can you tell me why?"

"You told me to write about my feelings. My strongest feelings are when I think about her."

"The agents who will visit tomorrow could reunite you with her. Do you realize that? Don't you want that?" He felt her tone was patronizing.

"I think so. I'm just not sure I'm ready yet."

She was noticeably disappointed, "In the end, it's up to you, Norm. I certainly won't force you to talk to these agents. But they do seem to know you and are concerned for you."

"They are concerned with solving their case," he replied curtly.

"I don't think that's a fair assumption to make until you've met them."

"No. I won't," he said resolutely.

She couldn't argue with him. His mind was made up. She instead asked him about his feelings about his amnesia, "You wrote in your journal that your memories had been 'taken' and 'stolen'. Why do you use those words? Can you tell me why you feel that?"

"What do you want to hear specifically?" he asked in return.

"It's not about what I want, Norm. I can only help you if you tell me what is going on," she answered.

"Look, I know how this works. I've had the training. It's all right there on those pages. That's my life right there. That's what it comes down to. The life I can't even remember has been reduced to papers. And it pretty much sums it up, doesn't it? I have nothing but papers."

"Are you afraid to find out more, Norm?" she asked. This had been the most direct question she had asked him yet. It startled him. "Yes," he answered.

He settled down a little. She didn't deserve his contempt. He started again, "I don't feel like I lost my memory. It doesn't feel like I'm blocking the memories. It just feels like they have been snatched from where they are supposed to be. I think something was done to me. Other than the obvious physical damage."

Alicia was quiet so he continued, "And yes, I am afraid to find out more. I'm afraid that I will put myself and anyone I may care about in danger if I remember. I was an FBI agent. For someone to kidnap me and torture me for months, I must have done something to really piss them off."

Alicia nodded, "Well, Norm, you have to trust yourself. And if your instinct is telling you that you can't meet these people, then no one will make you."

Jacob drove Norm back to his apartment. They said very little. They stopped in front of the building. Jacob asked, "Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow for your meeting?"

"No. I'm not going. I've got physio."

"Norm, are you kidding? This is the FBI!" Jacob replied with disbelief.

"Alicia said I don't have to meet with them yet if I'm not ready."

Jacob nodded, "But they can help you."

"No one can help me," he said rather bitterly.

"What do you think we've been trying to do here, Norm?" Jacob asked offended.

"That's not what I meant," but Norm made no further attempts to explain.

"Look, Norm, I didn't want to bring this up, but you can't exactly stay here now. I mean, not long-term. You aren't a citizen of this country. Your medical insurance is all covered for now, but we can't continue to treat you now that we know who you are and where you belong. I don't mean to push you, but..."

Jacob glanced at Norm who was giving him a hard look and before he could finish Norm jumped out of the car and slammed the door. He walked as fast as he could to his apartment. He closed the door behind him and slid to the floor as if the remaining energy he had left was being drained from him. He sat with his head in his hands. He felt unwanted by the people he knew now and he felt trapped by the people he was supposed to know in his past. He couldn't figure out what to do and all the expectations of him swirled around his head until they made a high pitched buzzing noise. The noise turned into a scream.

He didn't realize that he was screaming until his neighbor pounded on the wall. "You okay in there?" came a muffled yell through the wall.

"Yeah, sorry," he yelled back.

He managed to get up and walk gingerly to the washroom to splash water on his face. He dried himself with a towel. As he pulled it down his face, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He stared and whispered, "Who the hell are you?"

He asked again and again until he was yelling the question at the mirror. In his blind rage, his fist hit the mirror. Cracks in the glass radiated out from the spot where his fist had landed. The fractures distorted his image and the mutilated reflection that looked back shook him. He looked down at his bloodied hand. Then he crumpled to the floor sobbing.

They arrived at the hotel late in the evening. They had flown in on the first flight they could get after working hours. Doggett thought it wouldn't raise any suspicions that way. Skinner made sure Scully consulted her doctors before letting her accompany them. He didn't want to risk any further stress that traveling might have on her or the baby; she wasn't having an easy pregnancy. He even tried to talk her out of going. But she would have none of it. Skinner had to relent. She needed to see Mulder. And Mulder's existence might depend on seeing her.

She had talked to Mulder's doctor all that morning before they left. She told his attending physician that she was Mulder's doctor in DC. The small lie afforded her a frank discussion about Mulder's condition without fear of the doctor-patient confidentiality. From what Scully could gather, he had been found like the others. He had similar scars and wounds. In his case, though, he had no memory whatsoever. This disturbed Scully a great deal. None of the other Bellefleure abductees reported entire memory loss when they were returned. She asked Dr. Lau if there was any occurrence of inflammation of the brain. He had full EEG and CAT scans done because of his coma but there was no sign of such a problem. Thank God for something, she thought.

Scully and Doggett checked in first. Skinner told them to get settled in while he checked in. There was a message waiting for him. It was from Mulder's therapist and it informed him that while they could definitely meet with his doctors and the local authorities, Mulder was refusing to meet with them for the time being. There was a number for him to call in the morning to discuss it further.

Damn you, Mulder, Skinner thought, you're still one goddamned stubborn bastard even when you don't know you are. Scully is not going to like this.

Scully did not like this. Doggett was unimpressed, but said nothing. He simply rolled his eyes and walked away when Skinner informed them of Mulder's decision. Scully pointed out to Skinner that they needed to get to Mulder before Kersh found out what they had done. But there was nothing he could do until they talked to his doctors.

The next morning they split up. Doggett had gone to speak to the local police to see what their files contained on the date of Mulder's apparent return. Skinner and Scully made their way to the hospital to conduct interviews there. Doggett would meet up with them there and then they would decide what to do next.

Scully was still meeting with Dr. Lau when Skinner finished with the staff in the emergency room. Doggett met him accompanied by a member of the local police force, a Detective Dawkins. They compared notes. It was all the same story. No one saw him come in to the hospital, and no one was with him. He was unconscious and unresponsive. He had no identification and no one asked for him. The police files reported no unusual or suspicious activities had occurred in the area the day of Mulder's appearance in the hospital.

Skinner called Scully's cell to let her know that they intended to see Mulder's therapist next. She answered to tell him to go ahead, she was finishing up with the doctor.

Scully pored over the DNA tests, blood work, and all the various scans that had been done on Mulder. She looked for anything anomalous in his blood and DNA tests recalling the findings in her own tests when she was returned. She viewed the results if the CAT scan to ensure that whatever had afflicted Mulder before he was abducted was indeed gone if it was ever there at all.

"Oh my God," she whispered as she started to look at the photographs of his scars and injuries. She became emotional viewing the brutality that was wreaked upon his body and tried to hide her feelings from the other doctor. Finally she came to a picture of Mulder's face. Dr. Lau continued talking about their findings, but Scully was no longer listening. She had never seen Mulder with a beard let alone his hair that long. He never let more than a day's stubble appear on his face and then only out of forgetfulness. And he looked thinner and paler than she remembered. But it was him. She didn't need any more evidence. Her heart knew it.

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares...

...When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me...

Norm's bandaged hand bothered him enough to keep him up most of the night. He finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning. He'd had a new dream. Again he was standing with the red-haired woman but the room was darker and the television was gone. Again he neared her. But this time, instead of turning around to face him and indulge in a kiss, she walked away from him and disappeared before he could go after her...

That morning, Norm was skulking around the hospital. He had gone to his physio appointment and did a half-hearted session. His physiotherapist asked why his hand was bandaged and he made the brisk reply, "I cut it." There was little conversation after that.

Now Norm was torn with trying to remain out of sight or giving in and going to meet the agents. He sat in the lobby of the hospital trying to blend in. He wore a baseball cap pulled down low in the hopes that he wouldn't be recognized. He felt the irony of the situation. Two days ago he desperately wanted to be recognized by anyone. Today, he wanted his anonymity back.

He gave up trying to spot the agents there and decided he would have a better chance to catch a glimpse of them at Alicia's office. He made his way up to the third floor on the elevator in the purple wing. He knew of a small restroom with a lock on the door that was close to Alicia's office. It was relatively unused since Alicia's hallway wasn't well traveled. He could hide there undisturbed and maybe get a look at these agents.

He planted himself in the small washroom and kept his ear pressed to the door in hopes of hearing the imminent approach of his former co-workers. He edged the door open slightly at the sound of voices. He counted three people, all wearing trench coats. He couldn't make out what they were saying except for the odd word. The tallest man was bald and wore glasses. He looked down at the others with a more authoritative air. He called the shorter dark haired man "Agent" and he in turn replied calling the bald man, "Sir." Norm decided that the bald man must be AD Skinner. He could not decide which of the other two men was his partner.

Norm heard the blonder of the other two men said, "If you don't need me any longer, I've got some duties to attend to." Skinner and the Agent nodded. They exchanged handshakes and pleasantries and he left. This confused Norm. He knew there was supposed to be three agents. If that man wasn't the third agent, where was he? Just then Alicia's door opened and she welcomed the two men into her office. When she closed the door behind them, Norm pushed his way out of the washroom.

He heard the sound of footsteps coming down the adjoining corridor. He didn't want to be caught near Alicia's office so he hurried out of the hallway to the elevator.

Scully took the wrong elevator up to Mulder's therapist's office. She felt like she walked in circles until the room numbers started to make sense. Her heels clicked down the hallway as she rounded the corner. She concentrated on the room numbers and only managed a glimpse of the figure that just stepped on the elevator. She inhaled deeply. Could it really have been him? The hat hid his face. She couldn't be sure. Even if it was, there was no possible way she could run after him. What was he doing here? He didn't want to meet them. Was he checking them out?

She inhaled again and knocked on the door before stepping in. Doggett and Skinner both stood. Alicia stood as well, but slowly. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Skinner went to Scully's side as if to support her. Scully whispered, "Was he here?" Skinner gave her a confused look and shook his head. Scully waved his arm away saying she was fine. She walked over to Alicia's desk and held out her hand, "Special Agent Dana Scully. I work with Agent Mulder."

"Of course," Alicia said as if Scully had just answered a question she hadn't asked and grasped her hand warmly. Skinner pushed a chair behind Scully. Scully eased herself down and the others followed suit once she was seated.

Doggett turned to Scully, "We were just telling the doctor here how it is imperative that we talk to Agent Mulder immediately. She is insisting he is not ready."

"Sir, I am not insisting. He is. I can't force him to see you. He has been through a lot and his recovery has been remarkable. But facing his identity was a shock to him. He needs some time to get used to the information. It's not that we aren't trying to help, but we need to think of what Norm needs."

Confused Scully asked, "Norm?"

Doggett explained, "That's the name he's been using here at the hospital."

Scully was a bit amused by Mulder's choice of name considering how much he hated his own name. She was quiet while Doggett and Skinner argued with Alicia. Scully noticed that Alicia's gaze fell on her repeatedly.

Suddenly, Scully spoke, "Sir, Agent Doggett, I would like to speak to the doctor alone. Would you mind leaving the room?"

Both men turned quickly, looking at her with astonishment. She was in no danger, but they both wondered what she couldn't say in front of them. They trusted her. If she could get them closer to Mulder, they would comply.

"We'll be right outside, Agent Scully," Skinner said taking and squeezing her hand.

Once the door closed, Scully said, "He's talked to you about me. Does he remember me?"

Alicia shook her head, "I can't answer that."

"But you seemed to recognize me. You made that clear...He needs to see me."

Alicia nodded, "You may be right. But as I said, I can't make him."

"We aren't here to interrogate him. We are here to protect him. We want to take him home."

"It's not that simple..."

"What are you concerned about? That he won't get treatment? That he won't be cared for? I can tell you right now if he doesn't come home with us, none of that will happen. If we don't take this opportunity, others will be sent for him, who won't give a damn about his welfare, and they won't take no for an answer," Scully's voice was rising.

Alicia's voice was steady and calming, "I know you're frustrated, but you have to think of this from his point of view..."

"I am thinking of him, and he needs to see me," Scully said urgently. Her hand strayed to her abdomen. Alicia glanced at her stomach as if to ask a question. Scully continued before she could speak, "I need to see him. I can help him and there are some things he needs to learn that only I can tell him."

Alicia sighed. This was much more complicated now. She agreed with this woman in front of her. Norm definitely needed to see her. But Norm didn't have an appointment with Alicia until the next day so there was no way to convince him today. And Agent Scully informed her that time was a danger to Norm. It probably had something to do with their work. And now a child was thrown into this mix. Whether it was Norm's or not, this woman was important to him and so her child would be too.

Alicia remembered something, "Assistant Director Skinner had mentioned that you are a medical doctor. Have you treated Norm, I mean, Agent Mulder, in the past?"

"Yes," it wasn't a lie, and it's what she needed to hear.

"Then I'd like your medical opinion. I need you to look at this file..."

Scully walked out of Alicia's office. She turned to Skinner and Doggett, "May I please have the keys to one of the cars?"

Skinner asked, "Where are you going? Did you find out where he is?"

"Yes. I'm going to see if he will talk to me," she replied in a low voice.

"Let me drive you," urged Skinner.

"No. I don't want to ambush him. I think it's better if I'm alone when I approach him."

"Do you think that's wise, Agent Scully?" Doggett asked.

"I think it's our best option."

"Agent Scully, he may not be the same man you remember. We should be there with you," countered Doggett.

"Agent Doggett, I appreciate your concern. I do. But I know him, whether he remembers it or not. And I'm not in any danger."

Skinner held up the keys to her and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said as she clasped her hand around the keys.

Skinner and Doggett watched her walk away.

Norm decided to walk home. He would meet with Alicia the next day and she would badger him again about meeting with the agents. Maybe she could tell him whatever she learned from them. Maybe she had learned about the red-haired woman.

It was a long walk from the university to his apartment. He would have been better off taking the bus, especially in the cold. But he needed the time to think.

Norm knew he had to meet them. All his questions could be answered. What had he been working on in this X-Files department that got him abducted? Maybe they would protect him. But his thoughts and questions strayed to the red-haired woman. Was this his friend or lover? His memory of her implied that she wasn't the latter yet. He had come to think of her as the Dana Scully on the pages he was given. He wondered how he said her name. Did he stress the first or last syllable? He wondered if he made her happy. He wondered what it would be like meeting her again. Would she embrace him? Would she cry? Would she be thrilled to see him? Would she be aloof? Did she miss him? Could she make him remember? He wished she was here and not the agents. Why didn't they bring her with them? Did they not know her? Did they not know what she might mean to him?

It was a slow, laborious walk, but he was finally at the apartment building. His legs screamed at him for making them move so much all at once. He climbed into the elevator and made his way to his floor.

He walked off the elevator and walked down to the end of the hall. Why did Jacob have to get him the apartment furthest from the elevator? He rounded the corner and gasped.

There she was. She looked different, but it was her. She wore a long dark trench coat. Her red hair was glowing from the sunlight streaming in from the window at the end of the hallway. She stood at his doorway. She was looking out the window when she heard his gasp. She turned to look at him. He heard her say under her breath, "Oh my God."

He could say nothing in return. It was as if he had been struck dumb by the sight of her. Flashes of the only memory he had came to him.

"Hello Mulder," she finally spoke as she moved slowly towards him, "I'm sorry. I know you didn't want to meet with us, but I had to see you. I'm here alone though."

She had called him 'Mulder'. How should he address her? She had said that he didn't want to meet with 'us'. Was she one of the agents? It hadn't occurred to him at all that his relationship with her had been a working one. Now it was obvious to him that this woman was his partner.

He had still said nothing to her. She was standing nearer now. He could see tears in her eyes...lovely, blue eyes. He hated seeing tears in them. He always had. How did he know that? She looked different.

He finally said, "Your hair is longer."

She replied, "So is yours...Do you remember, Mulder?"

"I remember you," he answered. She smiled.

He could never see that smile enough in his dreams. He wondered if he could ever see it enough in his life. She moved towards him again. She said, "I can help you, Mulder, if you let me. I can tell you whatever you need to know. I'll do whatever I can to help you remember. But I need you to know, Mulder, I never gave up on you. I never believed for a day that I would not see you again. I tried to find you. I did everything I could. I'm sorry it wasn't enough."

He couldn't believe she was apologizing to him. Shouldn't he apologize to her? For leaving her, for causing her this grief, for not remembering... She was openly crying now and her voice was breaking as she spoke. She had moved close enough to him to grasp his hand.

Her touch was electric. It was as if touching her had woken him. He looked down at her small hand around his. Reaching out to him was filling the void his memory had left. And suddenly he could picture every time he had held her hand, and every time his hand had been in hers. He let her entwine her fingers in his.

She was still crying and repeating, "I'm sorry," he shook his head at her as his other hand slowly brushed her cheek to wipe away the tears. Touching her was magical. His head felt clearer. His frustration was melting.

He couldn't resist. His fingertips nudged under her jaw to tilt her face to look up at him. He leaned down into her until his face hovered above hers. Unsure of himself, his lips grazed hers. But her other hand reached up to clasp the back of his neck and pull him down to her.

He drowned in her kiss. Breathing her in, he found himself submerged in memory. His memory. He remembered the first time he met her. She looked so young. He thought she was fresh out of high school and not Quantico. Her hair was even longer then. And she smiled all the time. When did she lose that smile? He remembered finding her necklace in the trunk of a car when she had been abducted. He wore it for three months until she had been returned. He remembered her lying in a coma when she was returned, while machines lived for her. He stayed up with her all night, when it seemed like the worst would happen, begging her to live. She would tell him she had the strength of his beliefs to go on. He remembered holding her while she cried when he found her after a serial killer had kidnapped her, planning to make her his next victim. He remembered pointing a gun at her and pleading with her to run from him while he fought with everything he had not to pull the trigger. He watched her as the tears welled in her eyes. He remembered her cancer. It drained the life from her. He thought he would die from watching her die. He remembered dancing with her. He remembered her daughter; the beautiful little girl she could never have herself. He watched her heart break into thousands of pieces when the child died.

Mulder remembered nearly kissing her after he told her he couldn't go on without her, in a hallway similar to the one they were in now. Just before all hell broke loose. He remembered going to the ends of the earth to find her. He remembered telling her he loved her. She hadn't believed him. He remembered pretending they were married. It gave them the excuse to hold each other's hand in public. He remembered the Millennium. He kissed her, finally. Then wished her a happy new year before she took him home. He remembered her holding him all night when he found out his mother had died. He remembered her embarrassment at asking him to be the father of her child after finding a fertilization technique to try. He tried to comfort her after finding out the procedure had not worked. But he couldn't even hide his own disappointment. He remembered making love to her. They both wondered what had taken them so long. He remembered holding her in his bed when she had felt ill. He told her it had to end. Then he wouldn't let her go back with him thinking he could end it. He remembered her holding him in another hallway and not wanting to let go, vowing she wouldn't let him go alone.

The memories had overwhelmed him. Mulder didn't realize he had released Scully and that he had slid to the floor. His eyes were closed. Scully had knelt down beside him as best she could. She had taken off the baseball cap and was trying to examine him calling his name repeatedly.

"Mulder, look at me. Mulder, say something, please!" Scully's voice was pleading him.

His mind finally surfaced from his memories. His eyes focused on hers. He whispered, "Scully..."

She was taken aback. She hadn't told him her name or what he called her. The therapist led her to believe he hadn't known her name or who she was to him. Did this mean he remembered? She searched his eyes and found recognition there. "Scully..." he said again to confirm what she hadn't asked. She threw her arms around him, "Oh my God, Mulder!"

Scully kissed his forehead. Then she stood with some difficulty and offered Mulder her hand. He looked up at her, and in doing so realized what was different about her. He wondered how he hadn't seen it before. She was obviously pregnant. He took her hand but used the wall as leverage to help him stand. His hands went to her swollen abdomen. His face was a mixture of confusion and happiness.

"Scully...?" he couldn't ask the question. She simply nodded. "How?" he asked. She just shrugged. Tears were falling down her face again. He found he was crying too. There would be time for explanations later. He took her in his arms and held her tightly. Mulder whispered in her ear, "Take me home, Scully. I have a life to finish."

The End

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