January 6 - Summit Building, Ground Floor - 1:05 p.m.
As the elevator door opened, Mulder prepared to step out with several others. He smiled when he saw a familiar redhead, standing before the doors, waiting for a chance to board.
"Agent Scully, hello." he greeted her.
"Dr. Mulder, hi. I was just coming to see you."
"Well, I just saved you a boring elevator ride."
With a gentle hand at her elbow, he guided her out of the path of the ebbing crowd. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, I just happened to be in the area and I thought I'd stop by to see if you had a few minutes to spare so we could talk."
"Sure. As a matter of fact, I was just about to go to lunch at that sandwich shop right over there. Would you care to join me?"
"All right."
"So...." Mulder began as they settled down in a cozy booth for two. "Did you want to discuss the Coogan case some more?"
"No, I have some other things on my mind... personal things."
"Oh?" He successfully held back the enthusiasm he felt at having her make the first move. "Personal things, huh?"
"Yes. Ever since we met, I've been considering something."
"Considering what?"
"Well, of course the FBI has its own shrinks. And I had considered going to one of them. But after meeting you and seeing how much you care for your patients, I thought that maybe you might be able to help me with a little problem I've been having."
So she didn't want to ask him out on a date or ravage his body. Mulder put up a brave front to hide the disappointment he felt knowing that she was interested in him only on a professional level. "Oh... so you're interested in a consultation, then?"
"Should I have made an appointment with your receptionist?"
"No, no, this is... this is fine."
A blonde, thirty-something, effeminate waiter came to take their orders. Apparently, Mulder was a regular. "Hey, what's shaking, Doc?"
"Hi, Sammy. What looks good today?"
"You mean besides you and me together?" Sammy cooed with a sly wink.
"I keep telling you, Sammy. Forget about me. I'll only break your heart."
"Don't worry, Doc, you'll have to stand in line to do it. What can I get you? Anything but the tuna salad. Trust me on this."
"All right. I'll have the ham and Swiss combo and a large iced tea."
"And for the lovely lady?" Sammy smiled at Scully.
"Just coffee please."
"I'll bring you the chef's salad. I know you wanna look good for him, but ain't no need in starving yourself to death." A terrified expression crossed Sammy's face as he looked back towards Mulder and apologized. "Sorry, Doc. I didn't...."
"It's okay, Sammy. Don't worry about it."
Sammy felt uncomfortable saying anything else so he just rushed off to fulfill their orders. "He's quite an interesting character," Scully grinned.
"One of my ex-patients. Actually, he's one of my better success stories."
"I see. What was that last part about? He looked really upset that he had just said the wrong thing or something."
"Well, it's sort of in reference to my second wife."
"Your second?
Mulder blushed noticeably. "Yeah. Although I'm fairly good at helping others with their problems, I'm pretty lousy in recognizing and handling my own. So, anyway, what's troubling you, Agent Scully?"
"Oh, I hardly know where to begin really."
"Well, let's try to narrow it down then. Does it have to do with the case you just finished working on? I can see how that would be disturbing."
"No, it's nothing to do with work."
"Bad dreams?"
Scully looked at him in surprise. "How did you know?"
"I didn't. I was only asking. But to be honest, you really don't look like you've been getting enough sleep lately."
Scully frowned. "I didn't realize I looked that bad."
Mulder shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I guess I'm just more attuned to seeing stress and depression in others. You look fine. Really."
"You mean except for the depression and stress, right?"
"So, this dream of yours... is it a recurring dream?"
"Yes. I've had it since I was ten. I saw a therapist for a while and they went away for a time. But recently, it's returned with a vengeance. For several months now, I've been having the same dream at least once a week. But lately, it's been nearly every night."
"Why have you waited so long before seeking help?"
"I don't know. I guess I thought I could handle it. After all, it's just a dream, right?"
"Sometimes dreams are the answers to the questions we haven't learn to ask. Sometimes a dream is simply your subconscious trying to weed through emotions you don't have time for during your waking hours. A recurrent dream is one way for your subconscious to alert you to a fact it feels you should be aware of, whether it's an as yet unrealized goal or a lost memory--"
"Lost memory?"
"Sometimes."
Sammy returned with their food, minus the chatter. While Scully sat quietly contemplating, Mulder took the opportunity to attack his sandwich. He was able to take two good bites, a sampling of chips and a long sip from his tea before his luncheon guest returned from her mental wanderings.
"My sister disappeared when she was twelve," she shyly admitted.
"Kidnapped?" Mulder asked.
"We both were. I was ten at the time. We were in our bedroom asleep one night, and two weeks later, I was found wandering around a mall parking lot still wearing my nightgown. My sister was never heard from again."
"Do you remember what happened to you?"
"No. Nothing. Sometimes I think the dreams I have are memories trying to surface, but they don't really make any sense. All I know is that they really frighten me."
"The kidnappings of these young girls, the case you've been working on for how long now?"
"I was brought into it only two weeks ago."
"When the dreams began to get out of hand?" She gave a positive response with her eyes, and Mulder nodded. "But the murders have been going on for about five months. They've been getting to you subconsciously. Maybe now that the case has been solved, the dreams may start to abate. But you had one last night, didn't you?"
"One of the worst."
"What's your schedule like?"
"My hours are so unpredictable."
"So are mine, but why don't you give Libby a call and tell her when you'd like to come in. You have my number?"
"I believe it's still in my notes somewhere."
Mulder reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. "Here are my home phone, cell phone, beeper and office numbers. If you can't reach me at one of those, that means I'm either in the shower or I'm dead."
"I'd much rather picture you in the shower than dead."
Mulder smiled wickedly. "Please do."
He coaxed a pretty good royal flush from her cheeks with that.
"I'll, uh... I'll just make an appointment with Libby."
"Good. Now," Mulder pointed to her food, "eat up or you'll hurt Sammy's feelings."
Scully returned her new doctor's amicable smile, then eagerly dug into her meal.
January 10 - Dr. Mulder's Office - 3:00 p.m.
"Hi, come on in. Have a seat." Mulder pointed to the couch as he approached from his position behind the desk. "Are you a chocoholic, Agent Scully?"
"I beg your pardon?"
Mulder pulled the cover off a plastic dish that sat on the coffee table and offered her the contents. She looked inside and saw several brownie squares nestled within.
"The three on the left have walnuts, the others are plain. Help yourself. I have lowfat milk in the mini-fridge to go with them."
"No, thank you."
"You're sure? They're really delicious. Libby made them. She had a Girl Scout troop to bake for and she made some extra."
Scully shook her head at the offer and he gave up trying to interest her in them, though he left the lid off the container in case she changed her mind later. Mulder settled in a chair across from her and turned on a small tape recorder that rested on the table near the brownies. He adjusted his glasses for comfort, crossed one leg over the other and prepared to take notes.
"So, tell me, how are you?" he began.
Leaning forward on the couch with her arms on her knees and her hands loosely clasped, Scully smiled lightly and replied, "I'm fine. How are you?"
"I'm doing very well, thank you. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, how are you?"
"Umm... nervous."
"So am I."
"What do you have to be nervous about?"
"New patients always make me nervous. You come to me looking for help with your problems, and I'm not sure whether or not I can help. About all I can do is listen carefully and try my best to offer the right advice. Would that be enough for you?"
Scully gave a careless shrug. "I suppose I don't have a better offer at the moment."
"I'd like to hear about your dream now."
She was somewhat unprepared when he wanted her to jump right in without any prelude. But she quickly managed to gather her thoughts together and begin. "Well, uh... I'm a little girl, and I'm in this room. It's all white and I'm lying on a metal table. There're some men there wearing scary masks hovering over me. I can't move and I can't talk. Then I hear one of them say, 'Where's the sister?' And someone answers, 'Got her right here.' And I'm able to turn my head in the direction of the voice and I see Melissa also on a table. She looks so pale and her eyes are wide open and she's staring straight up at the ceiling. Then I hear someone say, 'She's dead.' And they throw a sheet over her and I try to scream but I can't. But I keep trying and when I finally do manage to scream, that's when I wake up."
"Is the dream always the same?" asked Mulder.
"Pretty much."
"Do you believe that your sister is still alive?"
"I don't know. She's been pronounced legally dead. Most of her things have been given away. My family gave up the search years ago."
"Have you given up the search?"
"No. Actually, that's the main reason I joined the FBI. I figured I could use the resources to try to find her. But, I'm afraid I haven't had any luck so far."
"Does your family know you're still searching for her?"
"I haven't told anyone."
"Why not?"
"Because they'll either want to know what progress I've made or they'll try to talk me out of wasting my time."
"Do you ever feel that your dream is trying to tell you what may have happened to her? After all, you were an eyewitness whether you remember it or not."
"I know. But, how can I know it's real? I need something tangible... something I can hold in my hand or look at and see positive proof that she's no longer walking this earth anymore."
"What if you could remember? What if you could remember every detail about your abduction and hers? Do you think you'd want to remember?"
"Yes, I would."
"What if the memories are far more worse than the dreams?" When she didn't answer the question, Mulder uncrossed his legs, leaned forward in his chair and continued. "I believe I can help bring back the memories. But sometimes the mind forgets things for a very good reason. Could be you're better off not remembering. On the other hand, could be your subconscious is holding all the answers to the questions you've been asking. It's not an easy choice to make and I don't want you to even try to make it now. Take your time. I won't rush you to make a decision one way or the other. Okay?"
Scully sighed lightly and nodded. "All right."
"Now, are you sure you wouldn't like to have a brownie?"
Scully saw that he was attempting to lighten the atmosphere and the smell of chocolate from the opened container had gotten to her. "You said you have milk?"
"Coming right up."
Mulder went to the mini-fridge to retrieve a quart of milk, then pulled down two disposable cups from a nearby wall dispenser. When he returned to his patient, he was pleased to see that she had already selected a chocolate square and held it in her palm, a small bite already taken out of it. He presented her with a cup of milk, then as an afterthought, went to get a couple of paper towels to serve as napkins.
"Thank you," said Scully in accepting the flower-printed paper. "These are really good. Libby's quite a cook."
Mulder settled down with his snack, devouring half in one bite and spoke as delicately as possible with his mouth full. "I love the ones with the nuts."
Scully smiled at him, thinking how much he reminded her of a six-year-old at the moment. This was definitely not what she had expected therapy to be like. Somehow, she didn't believe that he was your average by-the-book psychologist. She wondered just how many would take time out during a session for a milk and brownie break.
"Don't worry," Mulder told her, amazingly in tune with her thoughts. "Your bill won't reflect this little snack time. Would you like another?"
"No, thank you." She still had two more bites left to go with the one in her hand.
"You're not on a diet, are you?" Mulder asked while placing the lid firmly onto the container and stashing it on the floor beneath the coffee table, completely out of sight.
"No, I'm not on a diet, but too many more of these and I will be."
A couple minutes later, milk and brownies had been devoured and the discussion resumed. He asked about her family and learned of her two older brothers, both with naval careers and families. She spoke fondly of her mother and sadly of a Navy officer father who had passed away only last year. She had been his favorite, his little Starbuck. Sensing that the topic of her father could very well be a complete session on its own, Mulder carefully guided her away from her reminiscing. This was an introductory session. He wanted to get as much insight into her entire life as possible.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, jerking her out of her revelry about her father. There was a definite blushing of her cheeks as she shook her head. "No. No one special."
"Do you date much?"
"No. Not much. My job... well, let's just say I stay pretty busy."
"You enjoy your work?"
"I enjoy the challenges. I like the idea that I can possibly make a difference in the world."
"How are things between you and your partner?"
"Krychek?" She blew out a deep sigh. "I guess you could say that we never quite bonded as partners. I tolerate him and he tolerates me, that's about the size of it."
"I would imagine that partners need to do more than tolerate each other. You're suppose to watch each others' backs, aren't you? He should look out for you and you should look out for him."
Scully smirked. "You mean like Starsky and Hutch?"
"Or Cagney and Lacey."
"Same sex partners. Maybe that's the key. You were right in your assessment of Krychek. He is a chauvinistic prick. He doesn't appreciate my being his superior, and he thinks he's God's gift to women. If only he knew, a third of the women in the Hoover building thinks he's a jerk, a third thinks he's gay, and the rest.... Well they have fake breasts and bubbles for brains."
Mulder bit his lip to keep from busting out in unbridled laughter. "You don't see a chance of the two of you working out your differences?"
"Not unless Krychek gets a personality transplant. And might I add that he could use some wardrobe tips from you."
Mulder snickered. "I take that as a compliment. You know, when Sears offers its two-for-one sale on suits, not everyone can walk away from it."
"Obviously."
The doctor made a few notes on his tablet before speaking again. "Agent Scully, it seems to me.... Do you prefer I call you Agent Scully or Miss Scully?"
"Well, under the circumstances.... Actually, I'd prefer Dana."
"Dana, it seems to me that there's a lot of stress in your life. There's the stress of trying to find out what happened to your sister and also the stress of losing your father. Your job is a major stress factor compounded by having to work with an incompatible partner. Your dreams could very well be a culmination of all these stress factors. And I'd rather we work on reducing your stress before attempting anything more drastic."
Scully nodded simply. "All right. How?"
"I'll give you some pamphlets before you leave. There are several relaxation techniques you can try. I don't suppose you can arrange to get a new partner, can you?"
"It's not that simple. Krychek was purposely assigned to me. Actually, I get the feeling that... I don't know. Sometimes I get the feeling that he was sent specifically to undermine me. To make sure I fail in my assignments or at least make it seem like I don't know what I'm doing."
"Why would he want to do that?"
"I don't know. Maybe he just wants to be promoted above me. Or maybe it's not him, maybe it's me. Maybe I'm seeing shadows that aren't there. Maybe he's really a nice guy but I just took an instant dislike to him because I feared my own inadequacies."
"No, I don't think that's it. I've met Krychek, and trust me; he really is an asshole."
A wide grin etched its way across Scully's features. "It's funny, you know. I've worked side-by-side with Krychek for almost a year now and I have absolutely no trust or faith in him. You, I've known barely a week and...." She couldn't finish the sentence, but then she knew she didn't have to.
"Dana, knowing someone a long time is no guarantee of their trustworthiness. My entire family is a testament to that. My parents have been married for forty years and my dad's on his third mistress. My sister was stalked and beaten half to death by her ex-husband who was also her childhood sweetheart. Now she fears the day he'll be released from prison and come after her again. So you see, knowing someone well doesn't necessarily mean that you can trust them with your life or your heart or your dreams. The mere fact that you give your trust to others does not ensure that you will receive the same in return."
"Sounds like you're telling me that there's no one I can trust."
"No, that's not what I mean. What I'm trying to say is that you just have to trust in yourself. If you meet someone you're not too sure of, and that little warning bell goes off in the back of your mind, listen to it. I'm sure you must have pretty good instincts to be in your line of work, so just go with your instincts."
"So far, my instincts have led me to you. Or is it fate?"
Almost as if in response to her question, Mulder's alarm watch sounded and he quickly switched it off. "Fate is a wondrous thing. It always has such impeccable timing. Same time next week, Dana?"
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