Chapter 1

It was the most profound lie she had told to date.

"I don't remember anything."

Her mother nodded, grasping her hand as soft sobs racked her body. She wouldn't look too far into it, overwhelmed with relief to have her daughter back.

Margaret, however, was skeptical. In itself, this was an amusing irony. Someone so willing to believe in the afterlife and spirits, unwilling to accept a justifiable loss of memory after such a traumatic event.

Forcing back her desperation, Scully reiterated, eyes glued to a nurse sitting at the front desk, typing away at a keyboard.

"I don't remember anything."

Something broken invaded her voice. She didn't have to fake it.

Slowly, Margaret's shoulders sagged. Within minutes, she mirrored her mother's relief; finally willing to accept this reality.

Scully retold this lie three more times. Once to the doctor. Once to the FBI. And once to Mulder.

Mulder.

She could barely look at him. He'd rushed to the hospital as soon as her mother phoned him. In the presence of her family, he'd been cool and collected. She was surprised. Margaret had hinted he had underwent his own private devastation in the aftermath of her abduction. She couldn't deny her disappointment at watching him leave after only a few minutes. It hurt. More than she was willing to analyze.

It wasn't a complete lie. She remembered almost nothing after Duane Barry. Almost.

There had been a voice. Not her father's and not the mystery nurse who had coaxed and encouraged her back to consciousness. It wasn't nearly so comforting.

She recalled a split moment of awareness. Her eyes were pried shut. Her location unknown. Coolness surrounded her, but her body didn't respond. Reality felt a million miles away. Nothing was tangible.

And then, the voice broke through.

Mechanical, sure of itself. Smooth, unwavering.

"Why fight, Dana?"

She wanted to answer. To scream all the reasons why until her lungs were blue. By nature, she was a fighter. Never with physical blows, lest it came down to it. An unshakable self preservation had always guided her. Where she'd inherited this from, she couldn't say.

But, her voice was muffled. With what little consciousness remained, her thoughts strayed to Mulder.

Why fight? Because she knew he wanted her to. Because she needed to see him again.

And this voice...it knew.

"So willing to return to the man responsible for your condition? What do you think will change?"

The questions felt like blows. She suddenly didn't want to be aware anymore.

"He has no trouble sacrificing your life for the pursuit of the truth. At his side, you are nothing more than a casualty."

Her thoughts were paralyzed. The voice cancelled out all reasoning.

"You know there is truth to this. Something you have avoided for fear of reaching this exact conclusion."

A numbing silence caused her to retreat further into the abyss, nearly severing awareness altogether. But not before hearing the voice speak one final time.

"He will never care for you the way you care for him. Should you live, it is at his side you will die. Day after day after day after day..."

She recalled nothing more.

Before Mulder arrived, Scully had the chance to mull over this memory again. Whether the voice had been real, she couldn't concretely say. The brain was enigmatic and her experience was too unclear to offer a definitive prognosis.

But what the voice said, she had difficulty denying. Though Duane Barry was responsible for her abduction, she wouldn't have been involved if not for being Mulder's partner. Of course she would never blame him for her actions. On her own accord, she sought out the truth just as vehemently as he had.

The only difference was she had been the one to suffer the consequences. And if she persisted, there was a good chance she would't be so lucky to return as she had this time around.

What the future held for her if she stayed at Mulder's side was nothing short of grim. Before, she'd been careful to evade this. Now, there was no dodging around the truth. And it wasn't grim solely because she was now intimately acquainted with the limits of her own mortality.

Rather, she knew she cared for Mulder much deeper than she would admit and she was only now beginning to recognize that the only commitment he was capable of making was to the discovery of the truth.

As admirable as it was, that commitment would endure whether she was alive or not.

His brief visit forced her to come to a decision. He would eventually find what he was searching for with or without her involvement. And though her curiosity was just as strong, there was a desire for a return to normalcy. She was tired. Tired of always looking over her shoulder. Tired of doing weekly apartment checks, making sure nothing had been bugged or wire-tapped. Tired of chasing cases where the evidence nearly always managed to disappear before it could be brought to light.

If she kept up at this rate, she feared burning out. She feared something worse. Unquestionably, the brush with death offered this perspective. But it wasn't one she was willing to ignore. Not anymore.

One Week Later

A knock at the door caused Mulder to swivel hard in his chair. He sought out the person at the entryway with no shortage of excitement.

Upon noticing Skinner, his shoulders slumped.

"Mulder," Skinner greeted, stepping forward.

He wasn't initiating eye contact, making Mulder slightly uneasy.

"What's going on?"

Skinner's gaze fell to a nearby cabinet. "I've got some news regarding Agent Scully."

"I talked to her on the phone a couple days ago. She's supposed to be returning today. Does she need a few more days?"

Though she hadn't mentioned needing more time when they spoke, Mulder understood and secretly encouraged it. Not because he felt she'd be incapable. Scully was equipped with a preservation, both personally and professionally, that he discretely and ardently admired. It was one of the countless reasons she worked so perfectly for him as a partner. Their preservation levels were strikingly similar.

That she wanted to return to work so soon, startled him. It'd been difficult for him to read her as of late. Normally, if he asked, she was forthcoming with her thoughts and feelings. The last three times they'd spoken, she'd been unusually reserved. He couldn't determine whether it was a result of her experience with Duane Barry or the coma. He also couldn't rule out that her family required a good deal of her attention.

Regardless, he hoped she'd take a little more time off for herself. Her mental and emotional well-being was unexpendable. He'd actually been reluctant to take on any cases until she was ready too as well. Having experienced Scully's absence, he was adverse, to say the least, to continue working without her. Especially when they finally had no bureaucratic bullshit keeping them apart.

"She doesn't need anymore time off," Skinner admitted, pulling Mulder from his thoughts. "Even after I insisted it. Remarkable really."

Blinking, Mulder glanced at the empty entryway. He almost expected her to appear in light of Skinner's compliment.

"Seeing as you keep looking at the doorway like an eager bloodhound, I'm guessing she didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?"

Skinner sighed at the expression on his face.

"Effective today, Agent Scully has been reassigned to the field office in Charlotte. It was...at her request."

Mulder shook his head before the words processed.

To his credit, Skinner appeared remorseful.

"She put in the request while in the hospital. I uh...I'm sorry. I didn't realize she kept you in the dark about this."

Mulder felt like he'd been stabbed in the gut. And no matter how hard he pressed down on the wound, the blood kept gushing out.

I knew she was acting distant. Why didn't I pursue it?

He knew why. Without meaning to, he'd been treating her like delicate porcelain. Prod too hard and he feared she'd crack. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for that. Not again. Never again.

So afraid to push, he'd been blindsided by her pull.

"Charlotte?" he repeated, unable to discern what emotion was caught in his throat.

"Yeah." Skinner shifted in place. "If you want, I could put out a call for a new partner. More agents respect you around here than you might think."

"I don't need a new partner," he bit back, tightening one hand into a fist so quick it produced a crack.

"Point taken. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Mulder barely heard his departure.

He stayed fastened to his chair, staring at the wall. Amidst the whirlwind of emotion threatening to upend his recent peace of mind, he desperately sought out an answer to the most glaring question in his head.

Why didn't she tell me?

He couldn't decide on an answer. Or rather, the one he chose pained him far too much to consider.