Because this chapter came out extremely short, I should have the next one out sooner than the usual 5-7 days. Thanks for the patience.
Fox Mulder sighed with frustration. He was not even sure why he was up and getting used to moving around. If this was anything like the last time in a mental ward then they had no intention of letting him leave. Besides, where would he go or do if he was able to? He hadn't seriously thought about returning to the bureau just as he had made it known to Skinner.
He leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor as the memories flooded him. If only Dana Scully was here, she wouldn't allow anybody near him. She'd get him out of here, one way or another.
He smiled grimly, dear Scully. How had he been able to go on at all without her? After she had died in his arms at the crime scene, he had fell into a void; his dark pit of hell with no way out crushing his spirit and life. His office turned into a place he avoided. He had depended on her showing up every time he went down to it. And when she didn't, it caused him to sink deeper into his depression. He rarely ate and tried to avoid sleep because of the nightmares, maintaining his mind and body on the brink of exhaustion. When overly exhausted he found that he pondered very little on the past, but was able to "live" in the present.
This had gone on for weeks following Scully's funeral until he was turned around by none other than X visiting him at his apartment one day.
Mulder had been sitting on his black leather couch glancing through a folder he had coerced another agent into getting for him. He had been "bouncing" in and out of leave status due to his mentality. He was then temporarily assigned a desk job, completing simple and mundane tasks. Although his supervisor had his best interests at heart, they were the opposite of what he really wanted – a case to keep his mind busy. So then he talked a coworker into obtaining a case file for him to look through.
A knock came at the door causing Mulder to look up but not move. When it continued relentlessly, he yelled for it to go away and leave him alone. Feeling a headache coming on due to the insistent racket he finally staggered to his feet and went to the door.
He jerked it open prepared to curse the violator out, but was cut off as a familiar black man pushed past him. "Come on in", Mulder said sarcastically still facing the hallway. He shut the door and returned to his couch and his file as if the visitor didn't exist.
"So this is where it all ends", the man said harshly standing over the agent from the opposite side of the table.
"Nothing has ended."
"Everything has for you. You're doing no better than your dead partner."
"Don't go there", came a warning.
X, as he was so called, crossed the floor in a few strides and after a look out the window, closed the blinds tight. "You have lost your edge and your desire. You're just as good as dead."
"No! God damn it", Mulder yelled slamming his fist on the table. He stood up infuriated, fists clenched. "You don't know a God damn thing about me…about the hell I've been through!"
"Get over it, Agent Mulder! Reliving it is not going to change a thing!"
"Why do you care?" Mulder demanded fighting to contain his emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
"The X-Files needs you."
Mulder glared at him, his body trembling with the anger that coursed through him.
"Don't tell me that you don't need them."
Through clenched teeth Mulder hissed, "I don't need them. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."
"Then do us all a favor and quit the bureau. Lock yourself in your apartment and rot." The black man glanced down at the file. "Give it up Agent Mulder, you're no good to anyone now."
Mulder stood unmoving, eyes closed, biting into his lip until he tasted blood. Then hearing the door open he looked up at his visitor leaving. "They've won Mulder, they've beaten you…you alone."
He didn't know how long he stood there, sorting out the thoughts "X" left him with. He was right. Mulder had given up. Even though he gave the impression at the bureau that he could continue on, he wasn't. It was for appearances only. His mind was lost; wallowing in its own self-pity.
After a night of deliberation, he knew the only way for him to continue was to stop feeling sorry for himself. He was still alive and was capable of continuing the work on the X-Files. He had done it before and he could do it again.