Follies of the Mind IV: Epilogue
Date: Sat, 13 Jun 1998

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Follies of the Mind IV: Epilogue
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

Scully's hand was still trembling against the recoil of her weapon.
She hadn't had time to draw a breath. Just her gun. Out and firing
at the . . . 'thing' crouched over her partner's terrified body. The
first shot missed, the second hit, but not dead on, and by the fourth,
the monster . . . whatever it was, was out the window on the side of
the room and she was firing after it.

Two thoughts took up warfare in her mind.

Follow the monster.

Check on Mulder.

Mulder won out. She hadn't had time to look at him when she was
shooting at the monster, but now, she could see he was
unconscious. Hopefully, not dead.

She holstered her weapon and stepped over to the bed, checking his
pulse at his neck. Strong, steady. A little fast, but that was to be
expected. His eyes were rolled back, he'd passed out. She hoped
that was it. She'd never gotten the opportunity to examine any of
the people the monster had attacked. Not alive, at least.

The image of the body with puncture marks on the neck came back
to her and caused bile to burn her throat. She had to roll him over,
check his neck for marks. Pray as she did that there would be
nothing to find.

The restraints stopped her. She cursed herself silently. She'd
completely forgotten about them. Quickly, she moved to unstrap
him, gasping as she did so. He'd been struggling for a while,
obviously. Deep gashes had been cut in his wrist from the web
straps. A couple were enough to worry her, blood was welling up
fast and furiously. She grabbed the ends of the blankets and
wrapped them around first one wrist and then the other. As gently
as she could, she rolled him on his side to check his neck.

All clear. The skin was unbroken. The monster hadn't touched
him.

She sighed in relief. Then turned her attention to more mundane
matters, like her partner bleeding to death while she watched.
Realizing that if his wrists were cut, his ankles were likely to be
damanged as well, she decided to call the nurse.

But she couldn't call the nurse. The nurse was a . . .

She stopped herself before she could even think the word. Not
zombie. Too ridiculous, even for the X files section. Nope, not
that. So instead, she decided to call Dr. Kasper. She had his pager
number and quickly dialed it. In the back of her mind, she couldn't
erase the fear that maybe the whole hospital had been turned into . .
.

Stop thinking that, her rational voice told her.

Look at his eyes in the dark, her quiet small voice reassured her.

Security arrived almost as soon as she'd hung up the phone, coming
to investigate the gunshots. Kasper, luckily, was in the building and
made it to the floor in no time.

"Where the hell is the nurse?" he demanded of Scully as he stormed
into the room. One look at the security guards, the broken window
and the bullet holes in the ceiling and he crossed his arms. "What
the hell happened here?"

"The nurse is probably gone. I don't know. But there was an
intruder in the room when I got here and I frightened him away,"
Scully answered, for the guards as much as for the young doctor.
"Right now, would you please look over the patient. I think he
passed out, but not before he almost pulled his hands and feet out
of the restraints."

Kasper put his disbelief on hold and set about checking out Mulder.
"These gashes need to be sutured. I'll call . . . no, never mind, I'll
get it myself," he said in a slight daze. He left quickly and came
back not much later with a suture kit and a nurse from another
ward. He went back to examining Mulder.

"There's some swelling in his shoulders. I think we should do a
couple of x rays, just to make sure nothing was broken."

Scully nodded mutely as he attention was pulled away to answer
another question from the security guards and the newly arriving
local police.

It was almost an hour later when she finally convinced the local PD
that the suspect was more than likely gone from the hospital and
that the nurse from the floor was probably with him. Kasper was
standing in the doorway of the now vacant room, since Mulder's
bed had been first wheeled down to x ray and then placed in a
different room.

"Thank you, Detective. I'll be by in the morning to see how the
search is progressing," Scully assured the policeman as she shook
his hand. Running her fingers through her hair, she looked over at
the doctor. "What did you find?"

"Nothing broken, but he sprained his right wrist and his left ankle.
I would expect the right shoulder is strained, too, though not badly.
He'll be pretty sore for a couple of days. I stitched up the wrists,
the ankles got away with butterfly bandages. All in all, he did a
number on himself," he said with mock admiration.

"He was trying to protect himself while he was tied to a bed, unable
to move," Scully shot back angrily. "Where the hell was the staff?"
she demanded, though she had a pretty good idea what had
happened.

Kasper looked a little embarrassed and slightly apologetic. "We
can't seem to locate the floor nurse. The aide was found wandering
in the cafeteria, she doesn't know how she got there. She had a
pretty nasty lump on the back of her head. As for the rest of the
staff, they've turned up on other floors, said they were called there
on emergencies but there were no emergencies when they arrived.
I have no explanation for it, I'm sorry," he said, with a shrug.

Scully rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Don't worry about it,
Dr. Kasper. This happens to us a lot. But I would like to talk to
the other staff members, later. In the meantime, I'd like to see
about Agent Mulder's release."

Kasper shook his head emphatically. "Look, Agent Scully, your
partner is still unconscious, he's inflicted injuries on himself . . ."

"While he was protecting himself, we've been through all this,"
Scully retorted angrily. "I think I've seen quite enough to know
what needs to be done," Scully said, crossing her arms and
narrowing her eyes.

Kasper got the distinct impression that she was about to do battle,
and it was a battle that he was going to lose.

Scully watched Mulder move his head from side to side. A grimace
passed his face as he sought any moisture in his mouth. His eyes
were still closed when she heard his first word of the day.

"Water?" His voice sounded like his vocal cords had recently been
scrubbed with sandpaper. It made her wince in sympathy.

His eyes were still shut, she could see they were stuck a little from
the gummy substance that always seemed to be left behind when
major sedatives were used. She held the straw of the cup in her
hands so that it touched his upper lip and he moved like a newborn
kitten toward it. After draining almost half the cup, he nodded then
tried to open his eyes. She almost heard a 'pop' when the lashes
separated.

"Better?"

He nodded. "Get me out of here, Scully," he said in a low, raspy
whisper.

"Step ahead of you, partner. Released forms are all signed. I was
just waiting for you to wake up," she smiled at him.

"I was involuntarily commited," Mulder pointed out, but was
already struggling to get up. Scully gave him a hand and helped
him shuffle over to the bathroom, handing him his clothes on the
way.

"You were here under observation. And your tox screen came
back with higher than normal adreneline totals, so I convinced Dr.
Kasper that there was the ghost of a possibility . . ."

He stopped and turned on her. "Don't tell me. You told him I was
drugged," he growled. "Damn it, Scully, that's getting pretty
damned old," he continued to rant.

She shrugged. "Mulder, it worked. You want to go argue the
point, and risk getting strapped to another bed, be my guest." She
waved dramatically toward the door. "If it was me, I'd get dressed
and make for the nearest exit."

"I really hate it when you're right, Scully," he muttered, but went
back to collecting his clothes. After a few minutes in the bathroom,
he shuffled back out. "How soon does the plane leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Scully replied with a smile to offset the
explosion she knew would happen.

"I don't want to stay here!" he stormed. "I want to go home!"

"You want to lower your voice--to save your vocal cords and to
keep them from locking the door again," she said in a terse whisper.
"Mulder, you can barely walk. You are stiff and sore, and you are
still under the effects of some fairly hefty sedatives. Give yourself a
day to recover. We'll get the flight home tomorrow and you won't
have to be removed from your seat with the Jaws of Life," she
finished, crossing her arms in front of her.

He glared at her for a moment, then figured he wasn't going to win
no matter what he said. "Just one night," he told her, as if that
were some victory on his part. She smirked at him and took the
handles of the wheelchair.

"Your chariot awaits, Cinderella," she teased.

"You're not that funny, even when I'm drugged, Scully," he said,
but his eyes had lightened considerably.

Scully was positive she heard bones creak as Mulder lowered
himself to the bed. They had just left the Calumet Police Station
after giving Mulder's statement and had already been at the
FBI Regional office to fill out paper work and send off a quick
report to AD Skinner. Scully had snagged them both sandwiches
off a cart, but Mulder hadn't really touched his. He was exhausted,
sore and more than a little cranky. Scully couldn't help comparing
him to a three year old in dire need of a nap.

"What wonder drugs are hidden in your suitcase for me, Scully," he
asked, as he absently scratched at the bandage on his left wrist.
Instantly, a small hand slapped his larger one.

"Stop that or when it's infected I'll tell them to use the IM
antibiotics," she warned. "And the only 'wonder drug' you're
getting is over the counter, Mulder. You've had enough 'joy juice'
running through your blood stream. What you need is rest."

He gave her a sour look, but accepted her offered aspirin tablets
and water, dutifully slamming them back and draining the water
glass. "I'm not sleepy," he said stubbornly.

"Then don't sleep, just rest," she shot back with a shrug. She'd
already kicked off her shoes and was settling in with her laptop at
the small table near the door. "You might consider calling your
mom," she said, not making eye contact.

His brow furrowed with suspicion. "And why would I want to do
that?"

Scully chewed on her lip. "Because she's worried about you," she
said flatly. Before he could launch a tirade, she stopped him with a
pointed finger. "Look, she called me. Or rather, the main
switchboard looking for me or Skinner. Apparently some of those
cameras at VinylRite the other day were CNN, and you made the
news feed. Then they reported that you'd been hospitalized . . ."

"What ever happened to 'a right to privacy'?" he muttered to the
ceiling.

"Anyway," Scully continued over him, "she was worried. I
explained what had happened and that you were under
observation." She stopped and considered her partner for a
moment. "Why didn't you tell me about the Rivers?"

It was Mulder's turn to chew on his lip. "It never came up?" he
tried lamely. At her narrowed glare, he pulled the second pillow
under the one he was laying on, so that he was propped up and
could see her. "Really, Scully, it was a lousy time when I was a
kid. I try real hard not to think about it. But to be honest, the last
24 hours have brought most of those memories crashing down on
my like a ton of bricks. It's all I can think about, now."

Her expression softened when she saw how crestfallen he was.
"She said you were there a long time. That they were afraid you
might never get to come home."

He shrugged. "I don't know about that. I wasn't allowed in the
'prognosis discussions'. Those were for Mom and Dad, when he'd
bother to show up. Mostly, I was kept in a room, by myself when I
could stand it, with an aid when I couldn't. It wasn't a lot of fun."

"It was because of Samantha's abduction?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "I was catatonic when they found me that night. I
didn't come out of that for about a week. When I did, I was
hysterical. Psychotic, some of the time. As far as I was concerned,
there were no 'safe' places left on earth. Not my home, certainly.
When they released me from the hospital, and Mom and Dad came
to pick me up, I lost it, big time. I refused to go home, went
hysterical. It was the first time I was drugged into submission," he
said with a sad, wry smile. "The only thing they could do was
commit me."

"You must have been terrified," Scully sighed, thinking how she
would feel to be locked in a room, alone, without her family near
her.

"Usually," he said with more of that smile. "I threw up a lot, at
first. Had an IV most of the time. I was pretty weak, when I
wasn't throwing a fit, so I slept, but I'd wake up with these
nightmares. Terrors, really. Night terrors that happened in the day
or the night, it didn't matter. It was bad."

"What happened?" she asked in a whisper. "When did they let you
come home?"

He smiled, a little superior smile. "When I learned how to lock up
the demons," he said. "Really, I just sort of got control. Oh, there
was still plenty about me that was messed up. But one day, I knew
I didn't want to stay there. I think that's when I made up my mind
that I wasn't going to be the victim. I wasn't going to sit back and
let my sister go without a fight. I was going to go out and find her,
come hell or high water. To do that, I had to get my shit together
and get the hell out of that place. It took time, even after I'd made
the decision, but I did it."

If it was possible, a new respect for her partner glowed in Scully's
eyes. "You'd find the monsters," she said, almost too quiet to be
heard aloud.

He smiled at her and wiggled his eyebrows.

"But the Bureau? Mulder, if what you're telling me is true, I don't
see how they could have recruited you. Wouldn't that have
blackballed you from the psych screening?" she asked, confused.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" he shot back. "I don't know, Scully.
I was thinking about it yesterday afternoon. Dad must have had
something to do with it. I mean, Dad and his friends. See, Dad had
never really pushed me to go into government service, but when I
mentioned that the FBI was looking at me, he didn't say a word.
That was so unlike him. Usually he was very adept at telling me
how I should or shouldn't lead my life. You should have heard his
opinion of my decision to go to England," Mulder smirked as he
remembered.

Scully stood up, pacing in front of the bed. "Mulder, I know
you've brought paranoia to new levels, raised it to an art form, for
that matter, but even from you . . . Do you really believe your
father was in on all that we've been through?" she asked, throwing
her arms wide to encompass more than just the small motel room.

Mulder shook his head and sighed. "I don't think he could have
seen everything, Scully. But yeah, I think he might have had a
hand in it. Maybe he was thinking it would be one way of keeping
me in line, working for the Bureau. Maybe one of his old 'buddies'
convinced him that they could look after me. Face it, Scully, my
father knew Deep Throat."

"And Cancer Man," Scully sighed and sat down. "So, you think
you were set up from the start? Mulder, if this keeps going, we're
going to be thinking that your father got your mother pregnant with
the express purpose of making our lives a living hell," she said
lightly, hoping he would take it for the jest it was meant to be.

"You don't think I've considered that, Scully," he retorted flatly.

She winced, then walked over to still his hand, which was once
again scratching at the bandage. "Mulder, even if that was the case,
the fact of the matter is that we are not sealed to that fate. We have
free will, we have intellect, you and I are stronger than that. We
chase the monsters. We don't have to become them."

He dropped his hand into hers and squeezed it hard. "You're right,
of course," he said and gave her a smile. "But you make it sound
like you believe there was a monster there last night," he added, his
eyes glowing with mischief.

She rose to the bait. "Monsters come in many forms, Mulder.
We've come across a lot of monsters in our time together. I'm
certain we're likely to find a few more before we're through."

"I better call Mom. I don't want her to worry," he said, slowly
dropping her hand and reaching for the phone.

the end.
Vickie