The Gunmen's office was as cluttered as ever, the faint hum of computers filling the air as Mulder walked in, feeling a gnawing weight in his chest. He'd been counting the days, but it felt like time had stretched into some endless purgatory as he waited for permission to see Scully. The facility had its rules, but he hadn't expected her to be so isolated.

As soon as he stepped in, Frohike's voice rang out. "Hey, fuck-up. How many more days until this so-called facility will let you see the love of your life?"

Mulder sighed, already feeling the familiar sting of guilt gnawing at him. "A few more," he muttered, not meeting Frohike's eyes. "They never mentioned that Scully had no right to outside contact for the first 4 weeks of her stay."

Frohike made an exaggerated, disapproving noise and rolled his eyes. "Sounds like bullshit. They're keeping her from you, Mulder. Keeping her away from everyone." He led Mulder into the main room, where Byers and Langly were already at their respective stations, working furiously.

Byers glanced up at them. "We did some research. Matched the voice from the call for the ambulance to someone."

Mulder's heart skipped a beat. "Really? Who is it?"

Langly, who had been tapping away at his keyboard, turned the monitor to face Mulder. "One of those guys who don't have names." He pointed to a grainy image on the screen. "An assassin, not the kind who'd go for subtlety. Staging a suicide isn't really their style."

Mulder studied the image for a moment, his mind working through the possibilities. "Emily's mother's death was staged like that," he murmured, his voice dark with memory.

The Gunmen nodded in unison, their faces solemn. Byers leaned forward. "We can't prove it, though. All we have is circumstantial evidence, but it's something."

Mulder's frustration was evident in the tight set of his jaw. "So, we know the person who called, but it doesn't lead anywhere solid."

Frohike clicked his tongue. "And that's not all. We hacked into the database of that mental health facility, to get an idea of how our favorite redheaded agent is doing." He glanced over at Mulder, his expression turning grim. "Looks like she's not exactly playing along. According to the records, she's questioning the medications they're giving her. And to top it off, she spent a few days restrained to her bed."

Mulder's stomach dropped. *Restrained?* That word echoed in his mind like a punch to the gut. It wasn't like Scully to resist treatment. She was always the one to follow protocol, to trust the medical experts. But this—this felt wrong. It felt like someone was pushing her to a breaking point, making decisions for her without her consent.

"Restrained?" Mulder repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why? Was she that disruptive?"

Frohike gave him a grim look. "From what we can gather, she wasn't cooperative. She didn't just go along with whatever they prescribed. The records don't give details, but if she's resisting treatment like this..." He trailed off, looking between Mulder and the others, letting the implications hang in the air.

Mulder paced the room, the weight of it all pressing down on him. "They're treating her like she's the problem. Like she's the one who's broken. I don't—" He stopped himself, clenching his fists as a surge of anger and helplessness washed over him. "She's not broken, she's *not*." His voice cracked with emotion.

Byers spoke carefully, his tone measured but sympathetic. "We know that, Mulder. But right now, all we can do is gather information. We can't get her out of there without concrete evidence that something's wrong. If we can prove that the facility is holding her against her will or abusing their power, then we have something to work with."

Mulder didn't know how long he stood there, digesting what they'd said. The thought of Scully—his Scully—being treated like this, locked away in some facility, restrained, medicated against her will... it made him want to tear the world apart to get to her.

Frohike grunted, sitting back in his chair. "Look, I know it sucks, but we're not getting anywhere sitting around, Mulder. We need to find that guy who made the call. We need to find out who's behind this."

Mulder nodded slowly, though his mind was still reeling from what they had uncovered. "I know. I'll go to the facility tomorrow, see if I can get some answers. I just… I need to know that Scully is okay. That she's not being pushed into something she doesn't want."

Langly gave him a sideways glance. "You sure about this, Mulder? You're already on thin ice with the Bureau as it is. Going to that place without authorization might get you into more trouble than it's worth."

Mulder didn't hesitate. "I don't care about the Bureau right now. All I care about is getting her out of there."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. There was no more time for subtlety or waiting for the right moment. If something was wrong with Scully, if she was being manipulated or mistreated, Mulder wasn't going to let it slide.

Byers nodded. "We'll help you. Just let us know what you need."

"Thanks," Mulder muttered, his voice tight. He looked at the screen again, his mind already planning his next move. The clock was ticking. He wasn't going to let them control her any longer. Not without a fight.