Chapter Twenty Five – Amnesia

Mulder struggled to keep his eyes open, even when his tired mind was telling him Scully was there.

Something inside the depths of his tainted memories insisted that she wasn't supposed to be here with him. She was supposed to be somewhere else, out of his reach.

He felt her hand against his forehead checking his temperature, yet somehow her touch sent waves of pain over him. Against his will, he couldn't help but turn away. In the midst of a fever, any sensation on his skin sent his body into a frenzy. He was fire and ice all at once and shivered uncontrollably.

She spoke several times, attempting to retrieve information from him. He had no idea whether he managed to answer her at all. It hadn't even crossed his mind how she had come to be here, or even who the male voice in the room belonged to. He had definitely heard a second voice. It worried him, almost as much as the unknown illness playing havoc with his body. It could've been anyone. Someone willing to hurt him, or to hurt Scully…

Temporarily Mulder closed his eyes, just to rest. It was too much to keep them open for any longer.

For a while, he was overcome with silence and darkness. He wanted to call out to her, but he struggled to speak through the haze of the powerful drug in his system. His throat allowed him to breathe, but no more than that.

Mulder wondered if she had gone. He was certain he had heard a male voice with her, but he struggled to connect the voice to a face he knew. He only hoped it was someone he knew, someone he could trust.

It remained dark, and he felt very alone. It was too quiet. He haphazardly began to question whether he was dead, surely if he felt like this he had possibly died somehow without any recollection of how it had happened and that this was it…

He had no idea how this had happened. And of course, he wasn't supposed to know. The memory had been stolen, just hours before.

"Open your eyes,"

Startled by the sudden voice interrupting the darkness that had engulfed him, he followed their command.

His eyes opened – painfully – but this time he refused to shut them. The room was spinning, and yet it was enough to reassure him that he was alive.

"Mulder, stay awake,"

He nodded, recognising Scully's voice immediately. He did as he was told. She sounded afraid, like he had never heard her sound before. He didn't like it. She was a medical doctor, she was calm and controlled, if she was afraid now then surely something terrible must have happened to him…

His eyes stung terribly, yet as he forced himself to stay awake he quickly became used to the brighter surroundings of daylight. In fact, they were not bright at all.

As soon as his eyes adjusted, he came to realise just how dark the apartment was – the curtains half drawn and only the television playing quietly in the background. He noticed a tall, male figure standing by the window. With the light behind them, they remained a dark silhouette.

"Do you hurt anywhere?"

A second figure came into sight - Scully - right before his eyes, at his side. Mulder recognised her instantly.

"Just my head…"

He felt her hands on him again, checking him for head injuries. Her eyes struggled to see in the shadows, and so she turned on the table lamp.

Mulder winced at the brighter light, yet refused to close his eyes. His stare remained on the dark silhouette, which now had a face he recognised…

Skinner watched from the window, uncomfortably. He felt Mulder's eyes burn holes into him, staring intently over Scully's shoulder as she tended to him. Skinner nodded at the younger man reassuringly, who in turn looked away when Scully spoke.

"No obvious sign of head injury,"

He hadn't a bruise on him, besides the healing scar from where she had struck him in her apartment many, many weeks ago when he had found her. She too had been disorientated, unwell…it was all too familiar. The very memory of it, or rather lack of, did little to comfort her.

Mulder sat up from his reclining position sofa, his feet firmly on the ground. The world shifted in his vision, forcing him to pause for a moment.

"Don't," he heard Scully whisper, sensing his struggle.

"I'm fine." He insisted.

The blanket he had been wrapped in fell to one side on the sofa. The lower half of his shirt was stained in blood.

He watched her face drop.

Looking down at the dried blood on his shirt, he caught glimpse of spattered blood on his skin. In the dimness of the room, he had failed to notice it.

"Mulder you're bleeding," Scully spoke abruptly.

He felt no pain – and had no recollection whatsoever of how he had come to be like this. He barely reacted at all, even as he watched her gently lift his shirt up over his stomach.

There was nothing.

She lifted his shirt a little further, her eyes darting over his skin for damage.

The blood on his shirt was not his own. Unaware of the dying woman Mulder had tried to save the night before, she suddenly filled herself with the fear that he had hurt someone.

"Where is your weapon?" she asked, as calmly as she could.

"I don't know."

For now Scully said nothing. She felt Skinner's stare on her back.

"What about your coat?" she spoke again.

Before Mulder could answer, the sound of Skinner's footsteps interrupted.

"Hallway."

Scully nodded emotionlessly. Within mere moments Skinner returned from the hallway with his coat.

She remained at her partners' side, watching the older man check his coat and pockets for evidence of where he had been. Mulder simply stared.

There seemed to be a startling nothing on him.

"No gun," Skinner confirmed, double checking. "And no I.D."

Scully nodded again. She had no way of knowing. She didn't even know where he had gone, how long he had been gone, and how he had got back.

"The apartment needs to be searched." Skinner informed her.

He placed the coat over the back of the chair at the desk. The television played quietly at their side, and presumably had done so all night long. The news confirmed – "Mass Fire and Riot in Washington D.C.". He chose to ignore it.

"I'd better get searching then." Mulder spoke, an uncomfortable tone in his voice.

Scully met his bloodshot eyes, just for a moment, as he proceeded to stand up from the sofa. Scully stood up with him, helping him to stand as he struggled to maintain steadiness. He was shivering.

"Mulder, you're not well,"

He shrugged her off, coldly.

"I'm fine." He insisted.

Against his wishes, she kept a firm grip on his arm.

"Agent Mulder, we will search the apartment." Skinner interrupted.

Scully looked to the older man as he spoke. She understood all too well what he was trying to say. Mulder said nothing.

"What now?" Scully asked him, weakly.

Skinner hesitated.

"We stay here." He told her. "And we find that gun."

Scully swallowed nervously at the thought.

"And what about Mulder?" she asked.

"He can't leave, not for now," He insisted, once again meeting the younger man's eyes. "Do not take him to a hospital."

She exhaled uncomfortably, before nodding. She had no choice in the matter.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."