Author's comments: Whew. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

Skyscraper

Chapter Twenty-one

The smell of smoke from a distant fireplace caused Scully to close her eyes and inhale deeply. She sat in the wheelchair outside the hospital, savoring her freedom at long last. Mulder helped her into the car, and got into the driver's seat.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, but it was a comfortable silence. "Did you visit Misty's new facility yet?" Scully asked.

The corners of Mulder's lips curled upwards. "Yeah, it's really nice. There are lots of activities for her, and the staff seemed very friendly."

"Good. I asked some of my old contacts, and that was the place most of them recommended."

Mulder reached his hand over and scooped her dainty hand into it. Scully suppressed a smile as the touch sent chills through her. She could hardly contain her elation at being able to go home, to her own place, her own bed.

Outside her building, Mulder helped her out of the car and said, "Can you make it, Scully?"

The task seemed daunting, but she said, "It's okay, I can do it." He handed her the crutches, and she hobbled her way toward the elevator. The effort drained the breath out of her, though, and she stopped midway.

"If it's too much, I can carry you," Mulder said, his hand resting on her back.

"No. I'll be fine, Mulder," she said, and continued on.

On her floor, she felt proud of herself when she made it all the way to the apartment without stopping. But the euphoria she had felt earlier disappeared once she opened the door. She stood at the precipice, and forgotten images flooded her mind.

She closed her eyes, drowning in the sea of memories. Pictures of Mulder and Diana being intimate. Agent Spender reading crushing e-mails. A pill bottle and an empty liquor bottle sitting side-by-side on the kitchen counter. The despair that led her to swallow the deadly concoction.

"You okay, Scully?" Mulder said, waking her from her trance. His hand rubbed her back, his touch soothing.

'I forgot,' she thought. 'And I need to forget again.'

She decided to focus on his fingers instead, which began to massage a little deeper now. "Mmmm . . ." she said. "That feels good."

She opened her eyes. He smiled. "Let's get you comfortable," he said, walking next to her toward the couch.

He helped her adjust the cast-laden leg as she sat down, and plopped down next to her. Scully's mind wandered. "What is it, Scully?" Mulder asked.

Scully buried her hands between her knees and looked down at them. "I feel ashamed," she said, pursing her lips. "Mulder, I believed the most horrible things about you—I thought you were working with the smoking man, and Diana Fowley, and that you implanted that chip—"

Mulder picked up her hand and said, "Sssshhh . . . Scully, it's not your fault. The delusions were being fed to you through the chip in your neck."

She turned her face away from him. "Mulder, after all this time, after all your loyalty, I fell for the most unimaginable lies, that you had betrayed me all these years. I couldn't even trust you after everything you've done for me, and all that we've been through together—that's why I became so depressed." She glanced at him. "I thought everything that the partnership . . . the friendship, we've built together was all a lie, and it tore me apart."

Mulder squeezed her hand. "Scully, it's okay—"

She yanked her hand away from him. "No, it's not okay," she said with force. "I'm . . . I'm not the same as I was before."

Mulder leaned in closer. "What do you mean, Scully?"

She put her hand to her forehead and began to rub it. "The electroshock therapy—I lost large chunks of my memories." She looked up at him. "I didn't even remember who you were at first, Mulder."

He took a second to let the revelation sink in. "But you do now."

She shook her head. "You don't understand, Mulder. I didn't just get all of my memories back at once. There are still large pieces missing." She covered her mouth when the full weight of the realization began to hit her. "I even forgot that my sister was dead, Mulder." Her eyes became moist as they met his. "Is my mother still alive?"

Mulder's mouth opened, and then closed again. He slid closer to her, and wrapped his arms around the back of her head. "Yes, she's very much alive and well. We can call her if you want."

Scully began to cry, and leaned into him to fold her head neatly into the crook of his neck. "I don't know if I'll ever be the same again. My thoughts get jumbled, and sometimes I have a hard time getting them sorted out. And I don't know if I'll ever recover all my memories."

Mulder enfolded her with his arms, and stroked her shoulder with his hand. "How did you remember me?" he asked.

She thought for a second. "The picture—"

"Well, maybe we can go through old photo albums."

Scully pulled back and locked eyes with him. "Mulder," she said softly, "I was lost in that place. I had no idea you even existed, let alone where I was or what I was doing there. But when I saw you—your picture, I just knew you were on my side—that you cared for me." His eyes glistened at the words. "You kept me sane, Mulder."

"Funny, I almost lost my mind when you were in there," he said. "You were all I could think of, Scully, my only driving force."

They placed their hands on each other's heads, and their foreheads locked together. Scully traced his eyebrow with her thumb as she felt a familiar stirring within her. They both pulled their heads apart in unison and searched each other's souls through gleaming eyes. Without words, because words were no longer necessary, their faces moved together and lips touched tentatively.

The scary world that Scully had inhabited the last few days and weeks disappeared, as all her awareness became absorbed in that single yearning action—mouths pressed against one another, searching, probing. Tongues penetrated without boundaries, finding places that sent tingles down Scully's back and into her seat.

The touch of his fingers on her face only increased the desire, and she pressed her mouth harder against his. She let go long enough to mouth the word, "Mulder," and when she did, she felt his lips slide down to her neck and begin a journey of exploration that made her squirm.