TITLE: What Makes a Person?
AUTHOR: Charlotte Unsworth
EMAIL ADDRESS: CMUnsworth@aol.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, but let me know so I can visit
SPOILER: Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath 
RATING: NC-17
CLASSIFICATION: A,R
SUMMARY: Does the mind, the body or the experience make someone, or 
something else? And what happens when the experience is removed?
DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, they're not mine. If they were, I could think 
of much more interesting things to do...




-------
What Makes a Person?
-------



Running down the corridor she forced herself to slow down and
steady her breathing as she approached the desk. The petite 
blonde nurse on duty looked up. When she saw who it was, she 
instantly came around to talk to her. 
"How are you, Dana?" she embraced her warmly, full of concern.

"I'm ok, Kim. Where is he?" She looked anxiously into her 
friend's eyes. 

"He's in 203...before you see him, I have to talk to you."

"What, what is it? Is he conscious? Is he ok?"

"He's conscious now, yes." Kim led her to a small room, dimly 
lit and decorated to put people at their ease. But with every 
second her apprehension was growing. 

"Mulder was brought in two days ago. His right arm was broken, 
he had two broken ribs, and a gunshot wound to the head." Her 
voice was gentle as she talked. They'd known each other for 
years, but Kim had never dreamed of having to tell her anything 
like this. "He went into surgery immediately. His arm and ribs 
are fine. They should heal ok."

"And his head?" she whispered. Kim took a deep breath.

"The surgery went well. As far as we can tell at the moment 
there'll be no permanent physical damage. When I arrived on 
shift he was already here but...nobody could identify him. He 
doesn't remember what happened or..." she reached out for her 
friend's hand. "He doesn't remember who he is. It could be only 
temporary so..." Scully snatched her hand away and stood up.

"Of course, it's temporary! I'd like to see him now." Without 
waiting for a reply she left. 

------

Nurses and doctors have been in and out of here all day. Always 
checking things. I wish they would just leave me alone. Just as 
I think I might actually be able to sleep, the door opens again. 
The woman who enters doesn't look like a nurse though.

She crosses over to me, takes hold of my hand. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, I guess." I'm aware of the wariness in my voice 
but the way she's touching me - I have the sensation that I've 
seen her before, but I can't quite place it.

"Kim told me about your injuries." Kim? Right, the blonde one, 
I think.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I close my eyes in frustration, 
trying. But there's nothing. She must realise the difficulty. 

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Waking up here. Doctors in and out every minute being a pain in 
the ass."

"I guess they are." She smiles slightly, but there's something 
else behind it. Perhaps that offended her in some way?

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean...are you a doctor?" The tears that 
spring to her eyes and the stricken expression on her face take 
me completely by surprise. She pulls her hand away.

"I have to go." She walks quickly out of the room.

I don't understand. 

-----

"Scully, what are you doing in today? I thought you'd be at 
the hospital."

"I just have to collect a few things." She didn't turn around, 
concentrating on the folders in front of her. Skinner paused, 
expecting something more but she remained silent.

"So, how is he?" She nodded, not really listening as she shut 
the cabinet and picked several papers up from the desk. She 
began to walk out of the office when he stood in front of her, 
blocking her. "What's wrong? Is he ok?"

"There shouldn't be any permanent physical damage."

"Physical?"

"He's...having problems remembering what happened. Which isn't 
unusual," she added hurriedly, "given the nature of the, the 
head trauma he suffered and the stress...but he's going to be ok. 
It'll just take some time. The next time I see him, I'll let you 
know how he's doing."  


-----
EARLIER
-----

"Dana!" The redhead showed no signs of hearing as she walked 
quickly down the corridor, blinking to keep back the tears 
threatening to overcome her. Kim began to follow her, then 
turned and entered room 203.

"Mulder?"

"What now?" He didn't even bother turning over to see who was 
speaking. He sounded exhausted, and who could blame him?

"What did you say to Dana?" he slowly pulled himself up with his 
good arm and looked blearily at her. 

"Who?" She closed her eyes, cursing herself for not realising 
what would happen. 

"How much do you remember?" He sighed, sick of being asked the 
same question over and over, tired of recalling a blank space 
where there should have been a life. He shrugged.

"I'm Fox Mulder, I'm 38 years old. I was in some kind of 
accident where I was shot and wound up here." Kim glanced at her 
watch.

"I'm off duty in a couple of hours...I met you at Dana Scully's 
apartment, the woman who was just here. Would you like me to 
stay and talk to you?" Something sparked in his eyes, a flicker 
of curiosity as he agreed. 

"Then get some sleep, I'm sure you could do with it. I'll come 
back later."

-----

She sat at the side of his bed and began to tell him his life. 
He lay there, becoming more frustrated with each minute. He 
could believe what she was saying - something in her eyes, her 
voice, convinced him that she was telling the truth. But he knew 
nothing. She could have been reading from a book, or speaking 
about a film he hadn't seen. She spoke of a sister, an education 
in England, the star of the FBI academy and violent crimes unit, 
a rebellious agent searching for something long lost, but there 
were no images in his mind to accompany her words, no idea what 
she would say next. When she mentioned Scully, he stopped her. 

"That's the woman who was visiting?" He asked. 

Kim nodded, tried to remind him of six years of loyalty, trust, 
friendship, but without success. 

She finally stopped and leaned back, hoping to see in his face 
some recollection of the man she knew. He simply lay still, his 
head swimming with images she had created for him - none of his 
own. 

"Mulder?"

"I don't want to see her."

"Who?"

"This...Dana Scully. I don't...I can't... think about any of this. If 
she's like you describe, she'll want answers and I can't even 
begin to give them. I need space, and I don't need her to come 
here."

"She's concerned about you. She wants to help."

"I don't want her help. Maybe later...but right now I need to 
try to understand who I am." Reluctantly Kim agreed, leaving 
the message at the desk on her way out and on Scully's answering 
machine. 


-----
FOX MULDER'S JOURNAL
-----

One of the nurses gave me this. It comes naturally to write down 
what I'm thinking - maybe I already keep a journal?

There's so much to take in. Understanding how I got here, in 
this condition, and who I used to be. I try to think back 
slowly, an hour at a time. I can never get any further than 
waking up here, surrounded by noise and a harsh white light. 

I'm suffocating here. I should be allowed home in a few days 
and without people constantly checking on me I'll be able 
to...I don't know.

It's strange, what I can recall and what I can't. I know how to 
read, write, speak. I found an address in my wallet and I could 
pinpoint it on a map without hesitation but I can't picture my 
living room. Kim brought me some books I asked her for, 
textbooks for what she tells me I studied. I read them and as I 
do, I understand it instantly, even anticipate some of it. 

The nurses tell me that Dana Scully has been calling and 
visiting every day. She's persistent, I'll give her that. I 
can't deal with her now though. Maybe when I go home, look 
through my things, something will come back to me. 

Right now all I can think of is in terms of 'if' or 'maybe'. 
There's no certainty of anything, and that scares me. 

-----

He signed the forms awkwardly, slipping the card with his 
outpatient appointments noted on it into his pocket. Thanking 
the nurse he turned around, and stopped. In front of him stood 
the redhead he had refused to see. 

"Dana?"

"They told me you were leaving today...I thought maybe I could, 
drive you home?"

"Thanks but..." I pause. It dawns on me that I'm not totally 
sure of where to go, and from the way she's standing with her 
arms crossed and looking at a point over my shoulder I can tell 
she's afraid I'll reject her completely but she needs to do 
this, so I say "That would be good."

We don't speak in the car. I'm concentrating on committing the 
route to what I am quickly discovering is, up till now, a 
photographic memory. She pulls up outside a building and walks 
with me to the elevator. For a moment we're still, then she 
seems to mentally kick herself and pushes the button. 

From my driving licence I know it's apartment 42. When we reach 
it, Dana pulls a keychain from her pocket and unlocks the door. 

"I have a key," she tells me almost apologetically before shutting 
the door behind us. She strokes the plastic of the chain absently 
before dropping it back into her bag.

"I've been feeding your fish and I cleaned as well...I didn't 
move anything, I just, thought, you know, and I wasn't sure when 
you were going to be home, so I just..." she trails off 
uncomfortably, aware that she's rambling. 

Looking around the room a cloud descends over me. I hadn't 
realised till now on how much I'd counted on being here to give 
me some memory, some sense that there was more to me than two 
weeks in a hospital. I don't remember buying any of this 
furniture, I don't recall collecting the certificates on the 
wall. I don't know who the children are in the photograph on the 
desk. 

"It's you and your sister," Dana says softly. I hadn't even 
realised I was talking aloud. "You're 12, she's 8. It must have 
been one of the last before she disappeared." I nod and replace 
it. Looking back at her, I think she was counting on this as 
much as I was. 

She's still here. That alone amazes me. I have no earthly idea 
who she is. A thought occurs to me - how close were we? Kim 
hinted that there was something between us and the way she 
reacted when I didn't recognise her... but surely if we had been 
involved she would have told me. Why is she still here? Why after 
I refused to see her does she still care enough to be here with me? 

"Dana," I hesitate, unsure of what to do, how much to say, "I'm 
sorry I wouldn't see you in hospital. It's just that..." she shakes her 
head, cutting me off. 

"It's ok." 

"Are you doing anything Friday night? Would you like to go 
somewhere for dinner, to talk? If you can recommend somewhere." 
A smile touches her lips as she agrees.

-----

"So, Dana, when are you going to tell me what's really going 
on?" Scully sighed, unconsciously gripping her coffee mug 
tighter. She thought she'd managed to skirt around the issue. 
She should have known her mother wouldn't let it slide. 

"It's Mulder," she admitted. 

"I thought so. How is he?"

"It's difficult for him, you know. We're still not sure exactly 
what happened that night," except that he ditched me again, she 
added silently. 

"Is he back at work?"

"No. I'm dealing with the paperwork at the moment. He's...I 
think he's reconsidering the whole thing." She looked down into 
her coffee. "We had dinner last week. Mom, it was like eating 
with a stranger. I mean, it's worse than when we started working 
together. We could always discuss the work, and later we *always* 
had something to talk about. He used to call me at 3am, just to 
hear my voice."

"Sweetheart, you're talking as though he's dead." Scully ran a 
hand through her hair. When she looked back at her mother she 
felt as though all her despair was written across her face.

"I feel like in a way he is, Mom. He's different. Not just that 
he doesn't remember, which is hard enough...god, maybe that's 
it." She glanced at the ceiling, trying to find the words to 
explain.

"When I saw him in the hospital, he didn't know who I was. He 
treats me like a stranger. Mulder used to joke, used to...he 
used to touch me all the time, my arm, my back, just to let me 
know he was there."

"I know."

"It's such a simple thing, but I miss it so much."

"Dana honey, I know this is hard for you but he must be going 
through hell."

"I know. And I feel so guilty for feeling the way I do. I'm 
trying to help him, I am, but I don't know what to do. I showed 
him his diary, I've given him some cases and reports, hoping 
that something...it hasn't helped."

"It will. You have to give it time. The most important thing is 
that you're here for him when he needs you."

-----

She glanced up at the knock on the door, a smile spreading 
across her face when she saw him in the doorway.

"Hi"

"I had to come in to sign some things, thought I'd use the 
chance to see your office." He crossed to the noticeboard, 
glancing through the various clippings and photographs pinned 
there.

"It's good to see you here again, Mulder."

"Why do you call me that?"

"What?"

"Why Mulder and not Fox?" 

"Are you reading your diary?"

"Yeah."

"You'll get to it," she laughed.

"I'd prefer Fox." The laughter died in her throat.

"Ok." He didn't notice her sudden mood change, turning to her 
with something in his hand he'd taken off the board. 

"This, this female agent here, is this you?" She 
took the newspaper clipping he offered, scanning it. She 
suppressed a shudder at the images it recalled, at the face 
of Duane Barry staring out at her. She had always hated it 
being there, a constant reminder. But perhaps to Mulder that 
was the point - a reminder of what he had nearly lost.

"Yes," she replied softly. "It's me."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"That man, Duane Barry, took several hostages and claimed 
he was being controlled by aliens. You were called to 
negotiate with him. In typical Mulder stupidity you traded 
yourself for one of the hostages to try to reason with him."

"What happened?" Her eyes had taken on a distant look as she 
tried to remain distanced while she told him, but it was 
getting harder. 

"He was shot, but escaped from hospital. You'd given me an 
implant he had, wanted me to check it out. I was on the phone 
to you, leaving you a message, when he broke into my apartment. 
He took me to Skyland Mountain - to stop himself being abducted 
by the aliens that had given him the implant." She closed her 
eyes, fighting to control a familiar sense of panic. 

"You were my partner then?"

"No. Not your assigned partner, anyway." 

"What happened to you?"

"I was...missing for three months. I was found in a hospital in 
Georgetown in a coma." She shook her head slightly. "The 
doctors said they were unable to find the cause. There was 
nothing more they could do. My mom," she paused, wetting her 
lips quickly before continuing. "My mom switched off the 
respirator. Everyone thought I was dying but...I came through." 
She wasn't sure how much to tell him. Would he believe that he 
had brought her back, that he had given her the strength she 
needed? She looked up at him, was taken aback by the anger in 
his face, his eyes, his fists clenched tightly. 

"And Barry? What about him?"

"He was found on Skyland Mountain. He was later found dead 
after you interrogated him. Strangled."

"*I* killed him? And nearly killed you?" It was barely a 
whisper, but she threw her chair back and crossed to him, 
her eyes flashing. 

"No! You are *not* to blame for his death, or what happened to 
me. I never blamed you, and I never will."

"Dana, how...how did you cope with that?"

"How did I cope? You would never have...I manage."

-----

Mulder is healing well. His arm is fine, and he has pain 
medication for his ribs, but he is using it less. 

His memory is something else entirely. He recalls in perfect 
detail everything since he woke up in hospital but that's all. 
I know this must be incredibly frustrating for him, but...he 
seems to be ignoring it. He hasn't made a decision about 
returning to work yet, but I'm afraid that the longer he stays 
away the less likely it is that he will come back. 

He hasn't asked me any more about his past, shying away from 
any of the traumatic experiences we have shared. 

We have been going out more. I think he feels more comfortable 
in 'neutral ground' - away from the office or our apartments. 
We never really talked, never explicitly told each other what we 
felt. 

We didn't have to. 

I want to tell him now. We have lost the silent communication I 
so loved about our relationship and I want him to know how I 
feel, but I can't find the words. 

Our relationship has changed in the past four weeks, and I'm not 
sure how I feel about that. 

He seems to be more the Mulder I know, despite wanting to be 
called Fox which I find difficult. But without the memory of his 
sister, without the experiences we've shared, what is there to 
keep him to the X Files, the bureau? What is there to keep him with
me?

I didn't realise how much I needed him before, and if 
he does leave, I'm not sure what I would do.

-----

I had my last hospital appointment this morning. Fox Mulder is 
now officially completely healthy...at least physically. I spoke 
to one of the doctors who suggested that I try some kind of 
counselling or hypnotherapy to recover my memory. 

I can't admit this to anyone, but I'm not sure if that's what I 
want. I began to read the diary Dana told me I kept but I had 
to stop.

All the experiences I had, they seem so terrible. Perhaps it would 
be better for everyone if I never remembered, if I could forget 
forever this sad story I read in my own writing. I seem to have 
been the most stupid, selfish bastard. I don't appear to have cared 
about anyone except myself, not even Dana. 

I'm still not sure how to act around her. She has been with me 
whenever I need her, always willing to talk or simply just be good 
company. I can't work out why when I have treated her so terribly. 
I'm glad she's here though. I find myself picturing her face, 
hearing her voice, and it helps. 

-----

It's the first time I've been to his apartment since I brought 
him home. He called me this afternoon wanting to change out dinner 
date to dinner at his place. Is that what this is - a date? I find 
myself smiling at the thought, then admonish myself for it.

By the smell as I walk in, he hasn't forgotten how to cook. Or perhaps 
he's been practising a lot. Whichever it is, the aroma is delicious 
and when he sets it down in front of me I can see why.

For the first time there isn't awkward silence as we eat. He's happy, 
smiling and joking. Animated. A side of Mulder I rarely saw before. 

I like it. 

This is more like our old relationship. Occasionally I would go to 
his place for dinner and a video. Sitting on his sofa now watching 
'Ghost' I can almost believe that everything's alright again.

Even if it is only for a little while.
-----

This feels right. For the past month or so I've been trying to find 
somewhere I feel comfortable, that I didn't have to pretend. Sitting 
here with Dana I think I've found it. During the film I simply sit, 
enjoying the story and her company, then as the credits roll I turn 
to her. She pulls her feet up onto the sofa, facing me. 

"Dana, I...I want to thank you." I take her hand gently. Her eyes 
widen briefly but she doesn't move. "You've helped me so much. I don't 
think I could've gotten this far without you." She smiles and looks 
down, slightly embarrassed, then hugs me.

"I'm just glad you're ok, M...Fox," she whispers to me. She pulls back 
slightly, a hint of a tear in her eye. Without thinking I close the small 
distance left between us and kiss her. She melts against me, her hands 
cupping my face as I hold her close. 

------

I feel like a teenager again, making out on the sofa. Except no 
teenage boy ever held me as tenderly as he is now, or looked at me 
with such passion in his eyes. 

Breathless, he draws back and stand up, extending his hand to me. 
He clasps mine and pulls me up, leading me to his bedroom. 
He kisses me at the foot of the bed then stops, uncertain. Perhaps 
it's the wine. Perhaps it's the situation, I don't know. Perhaps 
it's simply that I have wanted this for so long and I feel I am
being given another chance. 

I begin to unbutton my shirt slowly, never taking my eyes from 
his as his fingers mimic my actions. My skirt falls to the floor 
in time with his trousers, leaving us in our underwear. I reach 
behind me for the clasp to my bra and he remains still. 

-----

As the silk fell away I went towards her, staring at her in the 
dim light.

"You're beautiful," I whispered hoarsely, causing her to blush, 
glancing away. I captured her face between my hands, 
looking deep into her eyes before plundering her mouth once more. 

Slowly I pushed her down onto the bed, my mouth moving down her 
throat. He touched one breast gently, circling the nipple but 
never quite touching, then moved to the other. As my hand 
continued, my mouth latched onto the other nipple and her head 
fell back against the pillow as I touched her. 

I moved away smiling as she moaned faintly in protest. Her eyes 
were still closed as my hand moved to her thigh, gently working 
its way in to feel the warm flesh there. She inhaled sharply as 
I touched her, softly rubbing one finger against her. Her hips 
arched slightly, asking for more. I pressed deeper, enjoying the 
inarticulate moans that came from her. 

I stroked her faster, dipping briefly into her then withdrawing 
with agonising slowness. She moved under my hand, pushing closer 
as her breathing became shallower. The small breathy sounds she was 
making were more erotic to me than any words could ever have been.

I was surprised when she reached down and stilled my hand. 

"I want to come with you."

Then I was inside her, filling her as I gazed into her eyes. Slowly 
I began to move with measured strokes, quickly bringing her back 
to the brink. Her hands pulled me deeper as he moved faster, feeling 
myself get closer with each movement as she moaned softly beneath 
me. As her orgasm hit, she buried her head in my shoulder. The 
feel of her closing around me sent me over the edge 
as we clung together. 


-----

We lay silent, entwined in each other, part of each other. Absently 
my fingers played with a strand of her hair, wrapping it around then 
letting it fall before drowsily picking it up again. 

"I love you, Dana." I didn't  see the look that crossed her face, 
couldn't see her as she closed her eyes. 

"I love you."

-----

I saw his reflection beside mine in the water before I saw him 
out of the corner of my eye. 

"How did you know I'd be here?" I asked quietly, my arms wrapped 
around myself in an attempt to close off once more the emotions his 
simply being there awoke in me. 

"I read that we used to meet here and you weren't at your apartment, 
so...Dana, last night..."

"Was a mistake," she interrupted softly. "It shouldn't have happened. 
Not now." I felt his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to turn 
towards him.

"No it wasn't. You can't tell me it wasn't what you wanted." He 
stared at me searchingly. "There's more to it than that, isn't 
there?" His hand fell from my shoulder as he waited. 

"It's like...you're two people," I began with difficulty. 
"There's Fox, and there's Mulder. I know," I continued as he 
began to interrupt, "I know it's not logical but it's how I feel. 
It's not the body, or the mind...it's the experience that makes a 
person. The things we went through brought us closer than I had 
ever thought it possible. I thought I was in love 
with you, that I could be no matter what...but you're not the man 
I've been in love with all these years.

I miss everything. I miss the jokes and the innuendoes. I miss the 
insane cases you dragged me across the country to investigate, I 
miss the 3am calls because you couldn't wait till morning to talk 
to me. I miss the way that you touched me without a second thought. 
I miss that you loved me so much and so completely that you 
would risk everything for me."

She reached up with a trembling hand to touch his cheek. 
"I miss the way you called me Scully, as though we were so much 
more than partners, and how in one word you could tell me so much. 
Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of it all." My hand fell 
loosely to my side and I pressed my lips together before 
continuing in a whisper. "That's why walking away from you will 
be one of the hardest things I'll ever have to do."

"Then don't," he said roughly, reaching for me. 

I flinched away.
"I have to. Because somewhere down the line I won't be able to 
be with you when it's 'him' I'm in love with. It's best if I do 
it now."

"What will you do?" The resignation in his voice confirmed what 
I had known. He wasn't Mulder, not if he would let me go so 
easily. "Continue our work."

"I'm not..."

"I know. You don't have the memory of Samantha, you don't have 
the passion, the fire that Mulder did. But I do. I *need* 
to find a reason - for Melissa, for Samantha and Emily, for me...and 
for Mulder. Even if I have to do it alone, I can't let them win." 
Stepping towards him, I placed a kiss on his cheek. 

"Goodbye Mulder." Then I turned and began to walk, my body 
straight and my head held high. 

I didn't look back. 


Fin. 



This was written in response to the fanfic challenge from 
The Church of X (http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dunes/2415):


" Either Mulder or Scully experiences near-total amnesia. He 
or she is still articulate, can still speak and function in 
the real world, but has lost all sense of self and history. 
There is no memory of previous life and action, does not 
recognise anyone around them. IMPORTANT: The person *cannot* 
gain the memory back within the story--ever. This is not your 
standard amnesia fic, where it "will all come back to him soon." 
His or her life has been *erased* and he or she must start over. 
How did it happen, what will he/she do now, how does the other 
react? The story must be more in-depth than 'True love survives, 
they are meant for each other, they're lovers within the month.' 
Not that such a theme can't be present, certainly, but it has 
to be more difficult than that. There has to be some angst, 
there has to be some anger and frustration, and it must mean 
something if they do come back together". 

So how did I do? Thanks for sticking with it to the end, and 
feedback would be great.
CMUnsworth@aol.com