Chapter Seven

As I rocked my lover, a thought came to me.


"Yeah?"  Mulder's voice was muffled against my chest.

"Do you believe you'll see Scully in the morning?"

"No.  And not because tonight's Friday."

"All this time, and you still don't believe she's alive?"

"No.  I can't make myself believe it.  Walter, help me.  I can't live
like this."

"Like what?"  I kept my voice carefully neutral.

"I know in my head that Scully is alive, but the rest of me says she
isn't.  I can't live with that.  Walter, give me the damn pill so I can
at least sleep."

This was the first time Mulder had asked for a pill.  Mulder hated drugs
like this.  He'd been complaining all week that the pills at night were
making him fuzzy during the day.  But he needed to sleep.  I gave him
the pill, and, at his request, held him until he drifted off.

I remained awake for several long moments.  These past few days had been
hell.  The pills did make Mulder fuzzy.  His performance at work was
suffering.  So were Scully's and mine because we weren't sleeping and we
were worrying.

Mulder wasn't eating.  He was losing weight he couldn't afford.  I could
feel the difference.  Scully said that stress and the pills were
affecting his appetite.   He was exercising compulsively.  I got dizzy
watching him run round and round the track in the bureau gym.  He seemed
to live on sunflower seeds.

It was hell, but it was also heaven.  I had Mulder in my bed.  I had
Mulder in my arms.  I had Mulder in my house.  I could cook him meals,
even if Mulder only picked at them.  I could go food shopping with him. 
I could hold him while we watched television.  I could kiss him good
morning and good night.  I could make love with him.  I could hold vast
free-wheeling discussions on aliens, conspiracies, basketball and
sixties rock and roll with him.   

Mulder was still in drugged sleep when I woke for the day.  God, he was
beautiful.  I tore himself away long enough to do some weights and
shower.  I decided to call Scully and invite her for brunch.  Five days
of hell were too much.  We had to figure *something* out.  Scully
agreed.  So did Mulder when he finally roused himself. 

Scully arrived promptly at eleven.  By twelve thirty, we were down to
coffee and pastries and ready to talk about our problem.  By one, we
were completely frustrated.

"This is insane.  I'm insane.  Lock me up."  Mulder looked almost wild
as he paced around the room.

"Mulder, I will not accept that."  Scully glared at him.

"You were all for locking me up Monday."

"Monday I was terrified.  You've managed to survive this week."

"Thanks to Walter."  My lover gave me a smile.  "Now I'm terrified.  I
can't live my life this way.  Not even with you."

Scully rubbed her eyes.  "Let's take this again from the top.  It
started Monday night, after the warehouse."  

Mulder stood still.

"We're starting too late.  Start earlier."

She looked up.  "When?"

"When Walter took my gun.  You backed him up."  I grinned to myself as
he glared at me.

"We were worried, Fox.  You'd just been with Modell.  We had no idea
what lasting effects he could cause....Lasting effects."  I stopped
short.  Oh, God.

"Yes!  Don't you see?  You were right!  Modell or Modell and Bowman did
something to me.  They put something inside my mind.  Two somethings. 
Yes.  Modell put the need to kill myself there.  I'm *not* suicidal, but
something in my head wants me to be."  He clutched at his skull.

"Mulder...what's the other something?"  Scully's voice was insistent,
intense.  She knew the answer.  I thought I did, as well.

He sat down an