From: amperage@aol.com (Amperage)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: Evaluation/Therapy (1of 6)

Date: 25 Apr 1995 22:43:46 -0400



Evaluation written by Amperage@AOL.com





DISCLAIMER

No official permission exists for the assessor to use any of the

characters from the X-files in this Assesment. 



REPORT OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSESSMENT

FOR: mental status evaluation and pre-treatment recommendations



    Name:  Fox Mulder (NMN)

Position:  Special Agent, FBI

      SS:  459-33-2909

Assessor:  Emmaline Davis, PhD. Clinical Psychology 

           License #1579564



REASON FOR REFERRAL

Agent Fox Mulder was assigned to case X179915 by Associate Deputy

Director Skinner at the request of the Director.  The granddaughter

of junior senator J. Howell of Missouri was missing and

the mother, currently under psychiatric care, claimed alien

abduction.  Agent Mulder and his partner, Special Agent Dr. Dana

Scully investigated.  Evidence lead the agents to a small cairn of

stones where the child had been buried by the father; the alien

abduction story having been created as a cover.  However, the

child, Anna Lisa Howell-Norgrove, 4 at the time of her

disappearance, was not found in the cairn.  Evidence at the crime

scene suggested that she had pushed her way out, not being dead as

her father had supposed, but merely unconscious.



An extensive search was launched to find the missing child,

culminating in the discovery of Anna Lisa's body in an abandoned

house.  The child had been violently raped and beaten before being

strangled.  Her body was fresh on discovery, no more than 5 or 6

hours old.  Agent Mulder, believing unjustly that he had not done

enough to save Anna Lisa's life, began hitting his hand against a

stone fireplace when Agent Scully attempted discuss his guilt

feelings with him.  Despite her repeated attempts to reason with

him, Agent Mulder would not refrain from his self-destructive act. 

Eventually Agent Scully got two local sheriff's deputies to 

restrained Agent Mulder until he was able to control his behavior.



Agent Scully took her partner to W.A. Jackson Memorial Hospital, in

Albertville, Missouri, for treatment.  Agent Mulder had broken his

smallest finger and lacerated the flesh along the edge of his left

hand, requiring a splint and nine stitches.  Due to the manner in

which the injury occurred, Agent Mulder, along with being given

several pain killers, was also sedated.  He was discharged

into Agent Scully's custody following treatment to his hand.



Agent Scully, working in her capacity as a licensed medical

doctor, requested that this evaluation be performed.  Her

request was joined by Associate Deputy Director Skinner's order

that an evaluation be performed on Agent Mulder and that any

necessary actions be taken as needed to insure Agent Mulder's

mental health.



TESTS ADMINISTERED

No tests were administered.  Due to Agent Mulder's training and

familiarity with psychological tests, it was felt that the normal

battery of tests would provide very little reliable data of a valid

nature.



Agent Mulder has taken the MMPI and MMPI2, as well as the WAIS-R,

WMS-R, and SB:FE at previous times.



PAST PSYCHOLOGICAL HISTORY

Agent Mulder has been involved in-house therapy three times in the

past, twice under the recommendation of a superior.  The first

instance of mandatory therapy came after the shooting death of

another agent, for which Agent Mulder blamed himself.  This therapy

was short-term and superficial.  



The second time Agent Mulder was involved in a therapeutic process

was also mandatory, when he was working as an Analyst for

Behavioral Sciences, writing profiles.  Agent Mulder experienced

identification with a killer whom the press dubbed the "Prairie

Killer"  that lead to eccentric, maladaptive behavior.



The third case of therapy involving Bureau therapists came three

and a half years ago.  Agent Mulder reported frequent nightmares,

increased irritability, strong feelings of guilt, inability to

experience intimacy--whether with friends or in a romantic

involvement--and phobic behavior.  Agent Mulder was diagnosed with

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and intensive therapy initiated. 

After four months, Agent Mulder transferred to a private therapist,

Dr. Heitz Verber.



The diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was kept by Dr.

Verber, who initiated deep regression hypnosis therapy relating to

the possible abduction of Agent Mulder's sister.  Agent Mulder

admitted psychogenic amnesia concerning his sister's disappearance,

and Dr. Verber's therapy centered around this incident.  In

addition to the original diagnosis Dr. Verber added the diagnosis

"delayed onset."  After nine months of therapy, Agent Mulder was

able to remember the incident concerning his sister's abduction and

terminated therapy with Dr. Verber.  Dr. Verber believed Agent

Mulder's termination of therapy to be premature and noted this in

his report to FBI mental health services.





CURRENT PSYCHOLOGICAL CONDITIONS        

Agent Mulder currently suffers from chronic Post Traumatic Stress

Disorder, delayed onset.  (DSM-IV code 300.81)



HISTORY AND BACKGROUND INFORMATION RELATING TO POST TRAUMATIC

STRESS DISORDER

Agent Mulder was the first born child.  His mother was a homemaker,

his father a history professor.  According to Agent Mulder he was

not of the sex his parents had desired and when he was four and

allowed to attend the university kindergarten a year early, his

mother had a second child, a girl who was named Samantha Mulder. 

His own name had been "something of a joke:"  his mother had not

planned on giving birth to a son and had no male name prepared. 

His father thought the newborn infant looked somewhat feral and

suggested Fox. The manner in which Mulder explained his sister's

birth and the vignette concerning his naming suggests that Mulder

may have always experienced emotional distancing from both parents,

even prior to the disappearance of his sister.



Agent Mulder's sister disappeared one evening after Agent Mulder

had been assigned babysitting chores while his parents went to a

neighbor's home for an evening of bridge.  Fox Mulder and his

sister were watching television and playing a popular board game

when, according to Agent Mulder, they experienced a power outage. 

A light came into the room and Samantha Mulder was taken from the

room by a force.  Agent Mulder reports seeing an alien figure that

paralyzed him, telling him that everything would be "all right" and

that his sister would be returned.



Agent Mulder was found on the floor of his parents' home, curled on

a rug with his father's gun in his hands.  He was found to be in

shock and selectively mute and was given a sedative.  When he woke

he was unable to remember any of the incidents of his sister's

abduction.



Following this incident Fox Mulder's father became abusive towards

his son, blaming Fox for the disappearance of his sister. 

Eventually the father abused his son in the mother's presence.  She

responded by asking that the father leave the household.  No

divorce was ever filed, however Mulder's parents have not lived

with each other since this period.



FINDINGS

Agent Mulder is currently working in the Violent Crimes Department,

investigating cases involving unexplainable phenomenon.  He came

early to the interview, and was well-groomed, dressing

appropriately to his position.  He was cooperative and soft-spoken

throughout the interview, however, a highly developed sense of

humor appeared early on in the interview and lurked throughout all

of his responses.  He is highly intelligent and possesses an

eidetic memory. (Past tests indicate WAIS-R score of 147 and a

SB:FE score of 150, as well as a perfect score on the WMS-R.) 

While Agent Mulder presented the image of an assertive, confident

individual, questioning revealed a somewhat suspicious, aloof

personality that is also self-depractory and threat sensitive.



We began the interview with a discussion of the events leading to

this evaluation.  Agent Mulder readily admitted that his behavior

had been inappropriate.  "I hared out,"  he told the examiner,

embarrassedly.  When asked why he thought he engaged in the

self-destructive behavior he thought a moment and answered

simply that he felt had felt guilt over the child, Anna Lisa's,

death and had reacted impulsively to his feelings.  He was

extremely uncomfortable discussing his actions.  When asked if any

of the guilt he felt could be related to his sister's disappearance

he leaned his head back, smiled, and commented  "I think anyone

with a mail order PhD could figure out that no-brainer."  This type

of response was typical throughout the interview.  



His affect throughout the interview was appropriate.  His mood was

continually anxious, but he was extremely ruminative.  He answered

several questions with remarks that while humorous were also highly

ironic, sarcastic, and self-condemning.  It is this assessor's

opinion that Agent Mulder suffers from very low self-esteem. When

asked to describe others' opinion of him he stated "I'm the FBI's

most unwanted.  `Good old Spooky Mulder who sees little green men

and went around the bend years ago.  And he finally got caught.'" 

Later in the interview he said that "I don't know how Scully puts

up with my Bulls--- sometimes.  I don't know if I'm worth all the

trouble she goes to."  When I stated that this seemed a very

critical assessment of himself he smiled a moment. "Well, you've

never seen me on a tear.  Obsessive on parade."

 

He displayed avoidant behavior when pressed about areas of his life

outside of his professional work, defending his lifestyle with

explanations that he had "been in a some relationships.  They

just never worked out." His current next of kin is his partner

Dana Scully, rather than either of his parents, with whom he admits

to having only a strained, inadequate relationship. When asked if

he has any friends who are not involved in his work, Agent Mulder

shrugged and did not verbally respond.  When then asked who his

friends were besides Dana Scully he considered the question

carefully.  "The Guys at the Lone Gunmen (A magazine dedicated to

finding the "truth" behind many supposed "conspiracies") umm. .

.there's a few people I know at work who don't think I'm completely

insane. . .I know some people who've helped me with cases. . .I

play pick-up [basketball] games with some guys from Quantico

behavioral.  They think I'm crazy, but I have too good of a jump-

shot."  When asked how much time he spends a week either at work or

working he was unable to respond.  When I suggested hours ("50

hours a week?  60 hours a week?" The normal FBI agent work load.)

he smiled and shrugged again, suggesting to me that almost all of

his time is spent in the pursuit of his work.  While many agents

spend most of their time on the job and many spend most of their

time thinking about the job, I believe Agent Mulder is beyond the

point of mere dedication.  His attitude is obsessive to the point

of being maladaptive.  



Agent Mulder does not find this behavior problematic or distressing

and sees absolutely no need for any change in lifestyle.  He denies

overworking although he admits readily that the sole focus of his

life has always been finding his sister and that all other

involvements or commitments have always been either an accessory to

that or only of a minorly auxillory nature.  When asked if his

relationship to Dana Scully was an accessory to finding his sister

or auxillory to the focus of his life, he frowned, troubled.  "Dana

is the single exception" he finally admitted.  "She is important in

and of herself."  Dana Scully may be the only person to have ever

bridged the gap of intimacy in his life created by his obssession. 

He vehemently denies any sexual relationship with his partner and

I see no reason to doubt him.  At this point my evidence is not

strong enough to fully substantiate this claim, but I believe that

Dana Scully may be a surrogate little sister who at least partially

fills the void created by the disappearance of his sister.



When the issue of Agent Mulder's well-known belief in the existence

of extra-terrestrials and in paranormal phenomenon was discussed,

any proclivitity to trust me was lost.  He behaved in a bitter

manner, answering my questions with short, acidic comments designed

to rebuff the questioner as well as call into play his reputation

as someone with delusional ideation.  



If one accepts that Agent Mulder's convictions are merely a belief

system with the same validity as any belief system that accepts the

possibility of supernatural occurrences, Agent Mulder does not

suffer from any delusions or psychotic features.  Agent Mulder's

reactions to questioning about this issue are entirely predictable

and understandable, given the ridicule, derision, scorn, and

humiliation he has undergone from within and without the Bureau for

holding his belief system.





RECOMMENDATIONS     

>From my interview of Agent Mulder it seems relatively clear that

Agent Mulder is not at risk to incur any other self-injuries. 

However, there are areas of definite concern that must be

acknowledged.  Intensive long-term therapy is crucial.  With this

in mind I make the following recommendations:



1.  Agent Mulder should be placed under the care of a psychiatrist

for chemotherapy.  While I am not qualified to make decisions

concerning this treatment, I recommend an anti-depressant to

alleviate both his moodiness and his symptoms of PTSD as well as

low doses of an anti-anxiety agent.



2.  As his scheduling permits, Agent Mulder should see a therapist

between one and two times a week.  The focus of therapy should be

his low self-esteem, his obsessive behavior, his guilt feelings,

and his inability to trust, as well as other issues as they become

revealed throughout the course of intervention.  



3.  Agent Mulder would benefit most from a therapeutic environment

that includes his partner Dana Scully in as active a role as

she is willing to take and Agent Mulder will accept her taking.



4.  I find nothing to indicate that Agent Mulder is unable to

perform adequately as a Special Agent.  There is no need for

psychiatric leave or any modifications other than allowing him time

for therapeutic sessions.

 

SUMMARY

Agent Mulder was referred following an incident involving self-

destructive behavior.  He was appropriately dressed for his

position in the FBI.  The findings indicate the Fox Mulder suffers

from delayed onset, chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder relating

to his sister's abduction with the specific symptoms of: survivor

guilt, fear of intimacy, general alienation, and obsessive behavior

concerning any situations bearing a resemblance to the original

traumatic situation.  In addition, because of his unpopular belief

orientation, Agent Mulder suffers from low self-esteem and exhibits

defensive behavior.  It is recommended that Agent Mulder receive

chemotherapy and extensive behavioral and cognitive therapy,

preferably with his partner's involvement.





















Author's Note:  I relied extensively on a friend to write this, so

many, many thanks and acknowledgments are due Ginni Leiu Russell. 

She made me put the following disclaimers in this note:





1.  When Emmaline, my assessor, refers to "chemotherapy" she is

referring to "chemical therapy,"  i.e. drugs. I know most of you

know that, but Ginni was concerned for those who do not know the

jargon and have only heard of chemotherapy as it relates to people

suffering from leukemia.  



2.  MMPI is Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory.  MMPI-2 is

a second version of the test.  Both are still widely used. 



3. WAIS-R is the Weschler Adult Intelligence Scale-Revised.  

   SB:FE is the Stanford-Binet (another intelligence test): Fourth 

                Edition.

   WMS-R is the Weschler Memory Scale-Revised.  

   And yeah, the scores I gave Mulder pretty much take him off the

scale.  (The scoring on the two intelligence tests is not the same

and as much as a five point difference in scores from different

administrations of the same test is not unheard of.  I varied 7

points from my highest score to my lowest on the SB.)



4.  Different therapists use different assessment forms and

different assessment forms are required by different groups.  I did

mine this way because it worked out the best to describe Mulder. 



5.  I do not have a PhD.  I do not even have my MA.  Any errors in

this are my own.  

6.  If you don't agree with Emmaline--well, she only saw the man

for an hour long interview that was supposed to go ninety minutes. 

7.  There was a problem Ginni and I ran into in the confidentiality

issue.  Normally an assessor would not call Scully by name.  I

think this case is acceptable because Scully initiated the

evaluation process and admitted a personal relationship in her

request, so any one reading this form would probably also have

access to the request and order, and due to that, it was entirely

appropriate to use her name in the Reason for Referral section of

the case.  Having used it there, it would have been silly to call

her "his partner" throughout the Findings section.  If I'm wrong,

please tell me.  I know I need to bone up on that.  Majorly.  



  

8.  *I* added this one.  Thanks for reading it Jenny!



9.  One more bread and butter note--to everyone who has encouraged 

    me in my writings I thank you abundantly!  





===================================================================



From: amperage@aol.com (Amperage)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: Therapy (2 of 6)

Date: 25 Apr 1995 22:44:58 -0400





All the usual disclaimers against lawsuit.  This one has some

disturbing scenes w/Mulder and a lot of foul language.  No sex.



Therapy

by Amperage@AOL.com

 

     "Hi."  Emmaline Harris looked up from a mound of paperwork as

Dana Scully came in.  The dark haired woman pushed closed the file

on top, put down her pencil, rifled through another stack of files

on the corner of her desk.  "Just have a seat wherever you like." 

She indicated the comfortable seating arrangment, and pulled out a

file.  

     Scully sat on a wing chair, moving a child's doll.  Emm waited

a moment, Scully knew she was putting her shoes back on. Emm got up

and took a seat in the wing chair opposite Scully's  "Okay.  Thank

you for coming in."

     "Does Mulder know I'm here?"

     "No."  Emm replied.  "And we both know he signed papers

stating that it was okay for us talk without him, so it's legal and

we're not going behind his back."

     "I still feel. . ."  Scully gazed down at the therapist.  

     "I know."  Emm smiled briefly, glanced around the room at the

toys.  "You know, Mulder's one of my few adult patients."

     "Yeah.  I've been kind of curious why you grabbed the case." 

     "Well, I didn't grab it.  Mulder asked me if I could get it. 

I still do some consulting for ya'll and no one in psych services

was eager to get him on their couch."

     "But you were."

     "Yeah.  I think it was a good thing too."  Em stared from

behind her bifocals.  "Mulder needed someone who could help him

without judgement.  And he needed someone who's done a lot of work

in PTSD, False Memory Syndrome, and other related fields." She

shrugged.  "I fit the bill.  Me and my dolls and and my behavioral

contracts and my abused kids.  Dr. Scully, how much psych training

do you have?"

     "Minimal.  I'm a pathologist."

     Emm nodded.  "Okay.  You do know that Mulder's problems aren't

going to go away with a few months of therapy and some drugs."

     "Mulder's diagnosis is Chronic PTSD.  That means it's been

with him a long time."  Scully replied.  "And I know Mulder.  It's

not going away.  He's based his whole life on his obsession."

     Emmaline nodded.  "How much does that scare you?"

     "A lot."

     "Yeah.  It does me too."  Emm sat silently a moment.  "Well,

so far, a few things that might surprise you.  Fox Mulder would

have problems even if his sister hadn't dissappeared.  He was

beaten since early childhood."

     Scully stared at Em.  "I don't. . .I'd always assumed. . ."

     "I decided to try some regression hypnosis, on a guess."  Emm

nodded towards her desk.  "Just poking around.  You know what

behave-cog things I've got Mulder doing."

     "Yeah.  The contracts I have to sign."

     Em nodded.  "Mulder was severely abused as a small child.  He

would go into trance states every time his father. . .brutalized

him.  That's probably why he was able to repress the incident with

his sister so well, he had practice."

     "What. . .kind of abuse?"  The word "brutalized" had shaken

Scully.

     "Mostly physical, some other stuff, but mostly physical.  He'd

do something stupid--like a little kid, in other words--and upset

his father.  Mulder can't talk about it very much. I've gotten just

enough out of him to know that he was abused.  Broken bones mostly,

but a few burns, a few times the beltings got completely out of

hands.  I got him back to five and I tried like hell to get him to

remove himself emotionally, but. . ."  Emm shook her head.  "He

couldn't tell me anything and when I brought him up I sat with him

about forty minutes, just holding him.  He didn't cry.  He just. .

.sat there.  This is one kid that didn't need to lose his sister

and get blamed for it."  She sighed, tossed her shoulder length bob

back.  

     "What happened?"

     "His sister was born.  The abuse slacked off.  I don't know

how or why.  I think that Samantha was the fair-haired child of the

family.  Mulder wasn't as important.  Which was good, because then

he didn't get beat on as often.  After his sister dissappeared the

abuse escalated. . .I want Mulder to tell you about that himself.

. .he remembers most of it.  He won't talk specifically, but there

were more beltings, Dad got really mean with the belt then.  A good

many cracks to the head--I get the impression he's lucky there

wasn't any nuerological damage.  There were less broken bones, but

his bones weren't as fragile then.  I know of one truely

memorable encounter with a baseball bat."  Emm shook her head

disgusted.  "He handled your dissappearance better than anyone's

given him credit for, you know.  He didn't kill himself or even

think about it.  That's better than what I would have expected."

     Scully stared quietly at Emm.  "Okay.  So what now?"  She

finally asked.

     "So, now, I continue with therapy.  Knowing about the abuse

explains some of why Mulder's so self-critical."

     "Some?"

     "Well, Mulder knows his behavior is obsessive.  He revels in

it.  But he also knows that obsessive behavior is maladaptive." 

Emm got up, went to her closet.  "He knows that he's thrown away

his reputation and his possibilities for advancement with the X-

files.  Dealing with the scorn of everyone doesn't help him at all.

But, the fact that he got so interested in the X-files when he was

shooting so far, so fast is also revealing--he probably couldn't

handle success.  He probably feels more comfortable being the butt

of everyone's jokes."  

     She opened up the white-washed chifforobe, poked around

through games and Barbies and Power Rangers, knelt, dug through

some costume outfits.  "I do a lot of drawings with my children. 

It's a good safe way for them to express things their parents may

have told them never to talk about.  She pulled out a pad of paper.

"I ran a big risk and got really, really lucky.  I asked Mulder to

do some drawing for me.  He could have been upset that I was asking

a grown-up to do a child's therapy method.  He could have played

head games with me.  I think, because of you, that *this* time,

Mulder wants to resolve some of his problems.

     She flipped through a couple of pages of art paper.  "So last

session, Mulder and I sat on the floor like two five year olds and

we both drew with crayons.

     Emm laid the pad on her coffee table.   "We did the old draw-a

person test first.  Mulder drew this."  

     Scully considered the drawing.  A small, simple sketch, a few

lines to suggest a face.  "That's not the Draw-a-person."

     "That's what Mulder gave me.  It's not you and it's not his

sister, but from the photos. . ."

     "I know.  Am I replacement for Samantha?"

     "I don't think so.  But I do think you're like a little

sister.  Mulder probably decided to draw a girl."

     Emm flipped to the next page.  A nice little overview of a

room, with black streaks and lines over it.  "I asked Mulder to

draw a his room when he was four.  He did the nice little

architextural drawing, then went over it with the black marks and

told me this was stupid.  He said he knew I was probably going to

use this to say all kinds of things, but all that it meant was that

he thought this was stupid."

     Scully frowned.

     "Last ditch efforts to protect the known."  Emm replied. 

"People aren't always logical when they're defending the status-quo

their mind has always known."

     "What do you see?"  Scully asked, curiously.

     "I see a lot of rage."  Emm was quiet in this remark.  "He was

just going to leave it as a drawing.  I thought he was.  Then he

made the marks, hard.  Look at how hard they are."  She got up,

went to her desk, retrieved something. "This is what he did to the

crayon."  She told Scully, dumping the broken, smushed item onto

her coffee table.  "He knew he was telling me something with those

marks and he really wanted to leave the drawing the way it was, but

he was so mad he didn't have a choice.  His hurt took over."  She

took a deep breath.  

     "Adolescents are the most likely age group of children to get

abused--emotionally, physically, or sexually.  Unfortunately,

adolscents are the least likely to be removed from the situation,

or have any adults do anything.  They're big, we think they should

be able to help themselves.  They're annoying, maybe it was partly

their fault.  They don't want to admit it, because it makes them

vulnerable and a lot of adults don't want to worry with them

because of all the children we're backlogging.  Adolescents will

get out of the situation sooner.  

     "I think a lot of people knew that Fox Mulder was being

abused as an adolescent.  I think they did absoltely nothing." 

Emm's voice was quiet in its recrimination.  "Mulder probably

thought along similar lines as the adults. . .he was almost grown,

so it wasn't abuse.  He lost his sister so he deserved it.  In a

couple of years he would be an adult, and it would be over.  It's

embarrassing admitting that your dad still spanks you. . ." Em

trailed.  "He understands that the abuse he suffered as a child

that none of that was his fault.  But the abuse from adolescence.

. ."  She spread her hands.  "I don't know."  She flipped over a

page.  "I decided just to do something fun.  I asked him to draw a

field or something. . ."

     It was a winter field, very quiet, half-done.  

     "Did you run out of time?"  Scully asked.

     "No.  Mulder stopped drawing."  Emm looked at Scully.  "He

stopped drawing and he just sat there, quietly, holding onto a grey

crayon.  I don't know what it means.  I do know that there's a lot

going on inside him that he's not talking about."  She shrugged. 

"So.  We're going to start some real therapy in the next few weeks,

some stuff to change behaviors.  He's not going to like it and

neither will you after a while."

     "What kinds of things?"

     "More contracts.  More modelling and reinforced practice."

     Scully nodded.  





===================================================================



From: amperage@aol.com (Amperage)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: Therapy (3 of 6)

Date: 25 Apr 1995 22:45:01 -0400



All usual disclaimers indicating that certain characters contained

in this text were created and are copyrighted by Chris Carter.



Therapy

by Amperage@AOL.com

     "Hi."  Emm smiled as she came out into the crowded waiting

room.  Mulder was the only adult patient waiting.  A rotund woman

sitting next to him, one whose two children played on the floor

with VR Troopers toys, frowned at him as he picked his way across

the toy-filled space space.  He tried to ignore the woman's

reaction, followed Emm down the hallway.  "I tell myself you're a

nationally recognized expert on memory and the problems associated

with it."  Mulder said.  "But every time I come here I feel like

I'm in a pediatrician's office."

     Emm shrugged; it was a true enough statement.  She opened the

door to her office, let them both take seats. "How are you doing?"

     "I'm okay.  Scully said you showed her the drawings."

     "Guilty as charged."

     "Why?"

     "You didn't bullshit me.  You showed me what was going on in

your mind and it was the farthest in you've let me come, really."

     Mulder took a deep breath, looked at Em.  "All right.  That's

fair."

     "I don't think it's intentional.  I think you come into this

room with every intention of working hard."

     "Scully would kill me if I didn't."  Mulder replied. "I did

everything I was supposed to in my contracts."

     Emm nodded.  "If you have to break them, it's okay.  It just

shows me that's one area we have to work on and you have to

practice more."

     Mulder sighed.

     "Sorry."  Emm apologized.  "You're not a child or an idiot. 

You work with seven year olds all day, sometimes you get stuck in

that type of phrasing."

     "Thank you."  Mulder looked at the coffee table, considered a

rag doll in its white pinafore and calico dress.  Brown yarn hair

and bright painted eyes.   

     "Who made it?"  He asked.

     Emm considered the doll.  "A lady in my neighborhood.  She

makes all my rag dolls."

     Mulder nodded.  

     "I give them away mostly." Emm said softly.  "I get kids in

here who don't know how to trust anyone.  The doll--they can trust

a doll.  It won't yell or scream or hurt them or turn away when

someone else is hurting them."  She stopped herself.  "I'm sorry."

     Mulder considered Em with veiled eyes, then suddenly relaxed. 

"That wasn't deliberate, was it?"

     Emm nodded.  "No.  I give them away for the reason I told you.

The doll's out because I'm messy.  I said what I said because it's

important to me, with the kids I work with, to let them have

something safe.  I didn't think about how it might effect you." 

She sighed, took the doll in her hands.  "If someone had given you

a little bunny farmer boy when you were four or five, what would

you have done?"

     Mulder frowned.  "Loved on it until my father tore it up

because it was a sissy fag thing to do."

     "If your father couldn't have taken it away?"

     Mulder thought a long time.  "I would have loved on it and put

it in a far corner of my room at night."

     "Things get worse at night?"

     He nodded.  "Even things you can trust in the daytime. . .you

can't trust at night."

     Emm let this sink into her thoughts a moment.  "Not even a

doll?"

     Mulder shrugged. 

     "Is that a no, a yes, or an I don't know?"  

     "It's a No."  Mulder said sharply.  

     Emm stared at the rag doll in her lap.  "Can you trust

anything at night now?"

     Mulder frowned.  "Yeah."

     "But when you're lying there in the dark, trying to sleep,

what are you thinking?"

     "I don't.  Not voluntarily."

     "How do you sleep most of the time?"

     "On my couch.  Mostly I leave the t.v. on.  The bed's for when

I have company."

     "What about when you're on a case and in a hotel?"

     "I leave the t.v. on."  His voice sounded edgy.  A voice that

told her there were a lot of things he would change to make the

people around him happy, a lot of things he would do, but turning

out all the lights and lying in his bed, alone in his apartment?

That was completely out of the question.  

     "Tell me all the reasons why you do this?"

     Mulder frowned.  "I have bad nightmares.  It's better when I

wake up, if there's something on or if I'm at least not in bed." He

paused.  "I don't sleep very much.  I watch t.v. all night

sometimes."  That was two.  "I don't like thinking about being

alone at night." That was three.



     "Because Sam dissappeared at night."

     "Mhm."  

     Emm nodded, grabbed Mulder's file off the coffee table, opened

it, took a couple of rapid notes.  "What do you dream about?"

     "Samantha."

     "Is there one specific dream or several or do they change?"

     "All three."  Mulder replied.   "I dream about her abduction,

and sometimes I flashback in that dream."

     "Are the details straight or do they change?"

     "They change.  But the details from my hypnosis changed too."

     "That's common, you know that."

     Mulder nodded.  "I've tried to piece it together as closely as

I can.  And I don't know. . .Sometimes we're playing Stratego and

watching Watergate hearings.  Sometimes she's curled up on my bed. 

Sometimes I've gone into her room because she had a nightmare. 

Sometimes I make it to the top of the wardrobe for Daddy's gun. 

Sometimes I get to the gun only after she's gone."

     "What do you think happened?"

     Mulder frowned.  "I don't know.  But the one unvariable

constant in all this is that the Aliens came and took her and I saw

it.  I tried to fight, but I wasn't strong enough.  I wasn't. .

.fast enough or anything.  I just couldn't move.  I was. . .I

couldn't move.  They wouldn't let me move."  

     He waited for the invariable response.  If they couldn't let

you move, how was it your fault?   It would put Mulder back where

he knew his footing.  He already had a script for that

conversation.  Already knew what to say. 

     But Emmaline Harris, PhD, frequent expert witness in court,

stared at him.  She knew several things and the first thing was

that to respond logically wouldn't work.  She would be fighting

belts and blows and cuffs upside the head.  She would be fighting

pain and terror and the desire of a 12 year old to say anything to

make his father stop hurting him.  She would also fall into

comfortable patterns for which Mulder already had a defense, they

would accomplish nothing except put Mulder into control and Emm out

of control.

     "When you told your father that, what did he say?"  She asked.

     "I didn't remember anything."  Mulder replied.  

     "But when he asked why you didn't do anything, what did you

say?"

     "I said I didn't know.  I didn't remember."

     "And then he hit you?"

     Mulder nodded, caught himself.  

     "When would it stop, when he hit you?"

     "When he was tired."

     "Any time else?"

     "If I said it was my fault he would get mad, but I knew it

would end, I knew he wouldn't just keep on hurting me.  And it was

true."

     "Do you think you deserved the beatings?"

     Mulder shook his head.  Of course not.

     "But it was true that it was your fault?"

     "I was her big brother, I was supposed to protect her."

     "So you did something wrong?"

     "I. . ." He was aware of the feeling in his stomach, the

tightness in his chest.

     "So how was it your fault?  What made it your fault?" Emm

pressed.  She wasn't about to let him back down off this one.  

     Mulder was staring glittery-eyed at the wing chair across from

him.  His right arm was drawn over his torso, his fingers were

clutching and unclutching the material of his jacket sleeve.  

     "What did you do that made it your fault?"  Emm asked yet

again. 

     Mulder was taking painful shallow breaths now.  He couldn't

trust himself to speak and Emm suspected he was being innundated

with memories, with words, with emotions.  He was jerking at the

material of his jacket now, and Emm wasn't at all sure Mulder knew

that he was even doing it.  His eyes were unfocused, looking

straight ahead.

    "Mulder.  I need you to tell me what you're thinking.  I need

to know.  You can tell me.  It's all right.  It's safe to tell

here.  It's safe, no matter what it is.  It's okay.  Tell me." 

     Her words released a torrent from inside him.  "They said she

was coming back. They said she was coming back!"  He exploded,

shouting, taking no notice of Emm's sudden flinching. "They said

they wouldn't hurt her and that they would bring her back!  And I

let them take her!  I let them do that to her!  I let them take my

sister!"  

     He paused, hands clutching into hard tight fists.  Tears began

to trickle down the sides of the sides of his face.  "Doesn't

anyone understand?  Nobody understands it, ever.  They say they do.

. .but.  I let my sister be abducted and. . ."

     Mulder trailed, then decided he didn't care right now what the

consequences would be, what anyone would say.  "I wish he hadn't

beaten me, but it was my fault.  If I hadn't lost her he wouldn't

have beaten me.  And if I'd done something she wouldn't have been

gone and Dad mostly stopped hurting me after Sam was born.  We were

a family."  A sob, painful and drawn out, burst through.  "It was

my fault he beat me like that: I lost Sam."

     Emm swallowed, felt her gut turn and twist.  Unsolicited, he

had said the one thing she feared he thought, the one thing that

she had hoped with all her being wasn't true, the thing that made

her job and Mulder's job so much harder, so much more difficult. 

  



     It took some time, but he stopped crying eventually.  Emm got

him a bottle of Evian from the fridge in the practice's workroom. 

Mulder wiped his eyes with a cool washcloth she'd also liberated,

drank the water.  She didn't do much work with adults, because if

you got to a case like this and the child had become an adult it

was so much harder.  Children you could teach to think differently,

could reshape their patterns.  Adults, especially well-educated,

pleasant, successful adults like Fox Mulder, were the pits.  Even

after they knew what was wrong, it was hard for them to change: the

patterns, their ways of dealing, were all intertwined.   Emm's

introduction of new ways of dealing was hard for them, because

sometimes, at first, the new ways didn't get the results the old

ways did.  The old ways worked very well.  The new way was hard,

hard, hard.

     Mulder was sitting quietly on the couch; he looked better, but

not good.  Emm took a deep breath, tried to decide where to go. 

She wasn't going to change his belief that he had to find his

sister.  She wasn't going to crack that obsession, get over it now

and move on or their therapy sessions would become nothing but tug

of wars.  "Was your father right for beating you?"  She asked

quietly, hoping for the answer she expected, not sure what she was

going to do if he answered yes.

     "No."  It was a standard, practiced response.  The one he had

learned as an adult, not the one he had learned as a child.

     "Why not?"

     "It's not. . .right to treat a child that way."

     "Before Dr. Verber, what did you think about the abuse?"

     Mulder shrugged.  "I remembered that it was my fault."

     Emm nodded, it wasn't an answer, but it was enough.  "What did

remembering do?"

     "I. . .understood what had gone on.  I had somewhere to

start."

     "That's not what Verber wanted you to see."

     "It's what was important to me."

     "You left therapy with him.  Cut and run on a friend.  Why?"

     Mulder smiled.  "He. . .I told him I just wanted to find out

what happened to her.  He knew that from the start."

     Emm decided she was beating a dead horse.  Time to move on. 

She shifted in her chair, slid her flats off, tucked her feet under

her. "Beating a child is never justified, is it?"  She asked in a

careful, neutral tone. 

     "No."  Mulder replied without affect,  he swallowed.  "But

even things that aren't justified. . . there are reasons why they

happen."

     Emm frowned, decided to see if she could bring some focus to

what he was saying.  Okay.  FBI.   "All those serial killers you

profiled.  You know that if someone does this or does that it means

that they're a certain age or that this happened to them as a child

or that happened to them.  Those are reasons.  But you still

testified against them, still tried to bring them down.  Because

you knew they were evil."

     Mulder frowned, stared hard at Emm.

     "So I don't get it."  Emm frowned back.  "It sounds from your

work that you don't think that a reason is an excuse."

     A deep breath, Mulder knew exactly where this was going.

"But I could have avoided it."  He offered up.

     "How?"

     Mulder opened his mouth, closed it.

     "Go ahead.  Say it."  Emm told him.  Mulder shook his head.

     Emm took a deep breath. began.  "`Em, if I hadn't lost my

sister Dad wouldn't have beaten me.  It was my fault I lost my

sister.  Ergo, it was my fault my dad beat me.  I was guilty as

charged, even if the sentence was too severe.'"  She finished. 

"Did I miss anything?"  

     Mulder took a deep exasperated breath, frowned at Em.  

     "It wasn't like that."  He muttered through clenched teeth.

     "Okay. What was it like?"

     They stared at each other.  

     Em gave in first.  "Okay.  Let's work out this week's

contract.  Then we'll do something else."

     Mulder gave a short nod.  



     The contract was simply a list of things Mulder had to do each

week.  Behaviors he had to engage in.  Last week they were all

small things.  Make up a list of positive-self statements and let

Scully read it.  If she thought the list wasn't good enough he had

to redo it.  Emm noted, flipping through the small notebook she'd

given Mulder, that he'd had to redo this week's list three times

before Scully signed it.  

     "Okay.  This week." Emm sat on the floor, using the coffee

table as a desk.  "I want you to write a page explaining why your

father shouldn't have beaten you."  She wrote down the reasons and

explanations for this paragraph.

     "And Scully has to sign it."  Mulder moaned, sliding from the

couch to the floor across from her.

     "And Scully has to sign it."  Emm agreed.  "Now you have your

choice, you can rewrite this list you made of self statements or

you can say it aloud to Scully.  I don't care which."

     "Once?"

     "No.  Four times, spread out over the next week--not just four

times fast right before you come to my office."

     "This is the most embarrassing thing I've ever done.  Em, I'm

not a child."

     "I know."  Em stared at Mulder.  "I help them write their

statements and give them stickers.  You want a sticker?"

     Mulder smiled briefly.  "Only if they feature the Barbi

Twins."

     "Sorry, Got some hot ones of the babes from Power Rangers

though."

     "I don't want to do this."

     "Don't want to or won't?"  Em asked.

     Mulder took a deep breath.  "Em please.  It's. .

.embarrassing.  And degrading."

     "To whom?  Scully doesn't think it's degrading to you."

     "I'm not. . .a victim.  I don't want her thinking of me as a

victim."

     Emm closed her eyes, opened them, took a deep breath. 

"Mulder, Scully had two big burly sheriff's deputies pinning you

down because you hit your hand against a stone fireplace hard

enough to break a finger and cause severe lacerations.  She didn't

stop trusting you or stop thinking of you as her friend then. 

That's why you're here. If she can deal with that and deal with it

very well too, I might add, then what makes you think she's going

to start pitying you now?"

     Mulder swallowed.   

     "Scully sees a very close friend, her closest friend, with a

problem and part of the problem is his self-image.  She doesn't

feel sorry for you."  Emm swallowed.  "Okay.  I want you to talk to

Scully about your embarrasment this week."  She wrote something in

the book.  "You've got to write a page explaining why you're scared

and why you don't want to do the self-statements. Scully's got to

write a page explaining what she thinks about your being in

therapy."  Emm wrote this down in her quick handwriting.  "I'll

call Scully and we'll talk about the self-statements."

     Mulder gave an exasperated sigh.  "I'll do it, damn it.  Don't

call Scully."

     Emm frowned.  "Why not?"

     "I already know what she'll say and I'll wind up doing the

damn things."  He grumbled.



     



     When the book was done, Mulder put it back into his trenchcoat

and Emm got out her cards.  They played poker for the rest of their

ninety minute session.  Mulder won, as usual.





===================================================================



From: amperage@aol.com (Amperage)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: Therapy (4 of 6)

Date: 25 Apr 1995 22:45:00 -0400



Usual Disclaimers.



Therapy

by Amperage@AOL.com



     "Dr. Harris?"  The voice was cool, professional.  Emm had

decided several months ago that she did not like the new office

manager.  The other counselors thought she was wonderful--

efficient, quick, good at getting things done.  But the woman was.

. .well, she and Emm had sized each other up immediatly.  Emm was

the kind of person who hadn't gotten invited to the prom and this

woman was the kind of person who had made fun of women like Emm in

high school for not getting invited to the prom. 

     It was silly.  Emm was a professional.  She had boyfriends

when she wanted them, watched her figure and had a hair

dresser/make-up artist named Claude who made her look pretty.  And

this woman was over 40, wore entirely too much make up and made

less than one fifth of Emm's salary.  Still.  Emm knew enough to

know that learned responses are hard to break.  To their credit,

most of the other partners knew Emm's feelings and made sure one of

the other office girls took care of Emm's appointments, Emm's

reports, Emm's needs.  

     "Yes May."  Emm responded, thumb on the phone's intercom

button.

     "There's a Dr. Scully on the line.  I tried to get her to take

a message, but. . ."

     Emm sighed, rubbed the bridge of her eye.  "I thought I said

the Dr. Scully and Dr. Mulder were on my list of calls to put

through unless I'm in session."

     "Well, they were, but now that you've got Dr. Mulder in

therapy."  Her voice was slightly scandalized.  Oh fuck off, 

Emm thought, just because a collegue needs to go into therapy, it

doesn't nessisarily follow that he's unstable and . . ."What line?"

Emm replied, looking at the row of amber lights.

     "Line 5."  May replied.

     "Thanks."  Emm picked up the handset and depressed the clear

button for line five.  "Scully?"

     "Emm.  God, what a bitch."

     Emm surprised herself by laughing.  "What, didn't you go to

the prom either.?

     "One of my brother's friends squired me,"  she heard Scully

say with a chuckle.  "Listen.  We're in Minnesota right now."

     "Yeah.  Mulder called up and rescheduled, so I knew you

weren't underfoot.  What's wrong?"

     "I'm being overprotective but. . ."  Emm heard Scully sigh. 

"How good is this for him?  I mean we're on a UFO abduction case

right now."

     "Well he's probably playingm out the classic symptoms of

someone with PTSD, if that's what you wanted to hear."  Emm

replied.  "What's going on?"

     "A little girl got mad at her friends and ran out of a slumber

party, decided to walk back home."

     "Wonderful."

     "Wait.  There's more.  The mother of the little girl hosting

the party finds out a few minutes after the other little girl

leaves.  Decides it isn't safe for a little girl to be out on the

road at three in the morning. So she goes after her in the minivan.

She says she saw the little girl and then there was a bright

light."

     "And that's all she remembers, no doubt."

     "Exactly."  

     "How's Mulder doing?"

     "He's doing his usual obsessive thing.  This has always scared

me, but this is the first time I've ever known there was someone I

could talk to."  Emm heard the desperation in Scully's voice.  "He

goes off into his own little world on cases like this.  The

abductee is the only thing that matters, his vision narrows.  He

pisses everyone off."

     "Including you?"

     "No.  Generally I don't get the full Mulder treatment.  He

doesn't see me as impeding his search."  

     It sounded like Scully could use some time just for

supportive therapy to vent her fears, her anger.  Emm frowned.  

     "If I called him, could I help?"

     "No.  I just. . .wanted someone to talk to.  Fuck, Emm, he's

going to go out on that limb someday and it's going to break off

with him on it."

     Now what did Scully mean by that?  Emm puzzled for a moment. 

"I don't get it."  She said, doing a very credible imitation of

the girl on the Showtime commercial.

     She heard Scully's snort of laughter.  "I. . .Mulder's focus

is so limited. . ."

     "He won't go crazy from this.  I promise."

     "Intellectually I knew that."  She heard Scully's sigh.  "I

think I needed to hear it from you."

     "Well, there it is.  He's just going to be a pain in the butt

to live with and he'll need some major support if the little girl

isn't found, but this won't send him around the bend unless he does

a depression thing, which I doubt.  Has he done his contract work?"

     "Bitching and moaning the whole time.  I didn't know."  

     "That Mulder blames himself for the beatings?"

     "Yes."  Scully's voice was barely more than a breath.  

     "It's fairly common in abuse victims."  Emm replied.  "But

that doesn't make it any less. . ."  She struggled for the right

words.  ". . .easy to accept."

     "Yeah."  Scully paused.  "Why does he think that I'm going to

feel sorry for him?"

     "Because he doesn't want you to.  It's a big issue with

Mulder.  He's got to be the big brother.  Don't underplay this

Dana.  Intellectually he's your partner, but at some level, he's

your big brother."

     She heard an exasperated sigh.  "Thanks Emm."

     "No problem.  Listen, if you need anything, any hour, call the

office.  If you give the answering service Mulder's social security

number they'll find me--home, cellular or pager, and if they can't

find me they'll take a message, knowing that I'll check with them

before I check anything else.  If you want my numbers I'll give 'em

to you, but it's cheaper for you if you just call them.  Hell,

that's what I pay 'em for."

     "Thanks."

     "I'm glad to help.  He's trying really hard."

     "I know.  I'm proud of him."  The phone clicked.  Emm sat

handset in her palm, smiling for just a moment.





===================================================================



From: amperage@aol.com (Amperage)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: Therapy 5 of 6

Date: 25 Apr 1995 22:45:10 -0400



Usual Disclaimers



Therapy

by Amperage@AOL.com





     There were no children when Mulder stepped into the waiting

room late Thursday evening.  A young woman was putting toys away. 

Mulder picked up a couple of Dr. Seuss books for her.  "You're Dr.

Mulder?"  The girl said when he handed the books to her.  

     "Yeah."

     "Dr. Harris is back in her office.  If you want me to, I'll

show you where."

     "I can find it."  He promised.

     The girl smiled gratefully. "Once I get this put up, I go

home."

     Mulder smiled back.





     Em was at her desk, going over an incredibly thick file.  When

Mulder opened her door, she looked up.  

     "I'm sorry Scully made such a fuss."  He apologized.  "I could

have waited until regular hours."

     Emm flashed him a smile.  "She's worried about you."

     Mulder made a small grimmace.  "She's overprotective."

     "Really?  She seems to feel that *you're* overprotective."

     A slight smile this time.  "Well, you know, kill your partner

and its hard to find another. . .if I lose Scully, no one will want

to work with me.  If I go crazy, no one will want to work with

*her*."  He took a seat on the sofa, where he was comfortable.  Emm

decided to fuck her shoes, her feet hurt, and walked barefoot to

her usual spot in the armchair.

     "When your partner called me this afternoon, she sounded

pretty worried.  What happened?"

     Mulder frowned.  "Nothing really.  We didn't find the little

girl."

     "That must be really hard.  How old was she?"

     "Nine."  Mulder swallowed reflexively.

     "What do you think happened to her?"

     "I don't. . .know.  We have no specific evidence for alien

abduction.  But we have no other specific evidence.  She was

walking home and then . . ."

     "There's usually some UFO activity before an abduction."

     "There wasn't with my sister."  Mulder looked up.  

     Emm stared at him levelly.  "There wasn't?"

     "No."  He replied in a voice that was extremely cool and

guarded.  "There was some evidence in this case.  Not a lot, but a

little."

     "Any evidence of anything else?"

     "No."  Mulder spread his hands as though letting something

through them.  "Nothing.  She's gone."  He looked up from his hands

suddenly looking very tired, very fragile.  "She was the oldest. 

She has a little sister who's three, named Tameris.  Tam's never

going to know her big sister, except as a ghost that haunts the

memories of her parents."

     "You sound upset."

     "There's a little girl who's never going to come home."

     "What was the little girl's name?"

     "Elizabeth.  Everyone called her Beth."

     "What did she look like?"

     "She had long blonde hair and green eyes.  She was in 4th

grade accelerated program. . ." Mulder trailed.  "I wanted to find

her so bad.  I remembered, this time, to make sure I looked at

every angle so there wouldn't be any more Anna-Lisas.  It didn't

matter.  I didn't find her.  There was this. . .look in the

parents' faces when I told them we were leaving.  I just wanted to.

. ." He trailed.  "It's not fair.  It's not fucking fair!  They,

whatever, whoever they are, they come in and they take and they lie

and they *don't care* what it feels like for the rest of us."  He

sat, brooding.  Emm decided against pushing.  

     "If I hear this New Age crap any more I think I'm going to

scream.  `The aliens are here to show us the way to

enlightenment'." He mimicked, wrapping his arms around his body,

staring at a far point.  "I don't know why they're here, but they

kidnap children.  That's not enlightened, it's. . .horrific."

     "Why do you think they take children?"

     Mulder shook his head.  "I don't. . .expiraments."  He said

softly.  "All the abductees talk of expiraments.  I guess sometimes

the children don't make it, or they're in long term projects so

they don't return them.  My sister is alive."

     Emm frowned.  She hadn't suspected that Mulder engaged in

magical thinking.  Oh shit.  "How do you know that?"  She asked

carefully.

     Mulder looked up, smiled ironically.  "No.  Don't worry, I'm

not. . .in the opening stages of a delusion.  I was nearly killed

by. . ."  He shrugged.  "I guess the term `Alien mercenary' fits

the bill, pretty much.  But it didn't kill me and it told me, as a

pacifier, that my sister was still alive. I assume he. . .it. .

.was telling the truth.  It had no reason to lie."

     Emm nodded, planning to check the story with Scully, for the

moment accepting Mulder's version.  "Right now our focus is going

to be changing the usual pattern you've got for dealing with the

days after a case like this."  She got up, found some blank paper,

a good pen.  "All right.  You give me your notebook to go through

and you right down what your schedule will be for the next few

days."

     "God, I love Cognitive-Behavorial therapy."

     "It beats ECT."  Emm surprised herself by saying.  Mulder

grinned, shook his head, dug out the little notebook.





     It was common in the early 70's for parents to

spank.  Teachers had paddles and used them liberally. 

Everyone thought that spanking and paddling and belting

was acceptable practice.  When Samantha was alive I got

belted once or twice a month, but it was not horrific. 

Six or seven licks in the garage and it was over.  After

Samantha disappeared, things changed.  

     I walked home from school, or I rode my bike.  I was

ahead two grades from where my age dictated I should have

been, but I had friends: I was tall and mature for my

age, so it never seemed to make much difference.  We

would joke around, invite each other over to our

respective houses. After Sam, I did not participate in

this ritual of laughter.  To their great credit, my

friends were quiet, respectful of the odor of mourning

and fear that emenated from my home and from its

denizens.  

     I would get in promptly at 3:30 and change clothes. 

Mom was always quiet, always too gentle for the outside

world.  I believe that was why my father married her--she

must have seemed a benevolent visitor from some foreign

land who never got angry.  She stilled the turbulent

waters of his soul with the soft coolness of her gentle

spirit.  Following my sister's abduction, Mom was

quieter.  She did less.  She slept a great deal. 

Technically she was clinically depressed.  I took up the

slack for her.  I would cook supper, have it ready.  I

took care of the house, did the laundry, vacuumed.  

     If my father was not in by 6 p.m. I knew something

was wrong.  If he was not in by 7, I was vomitting, I was

curled up in a corner of my room.  I was trying to do my

homework, but my hands shook too badly.  I was trying not

to cry.  

     Mom took a heavy dose of Valium at 9 and went to her

bed.  

     I waited.  If he came in and found me in bed, he

would be enraged, so I waited.  Eventually, some time

late in the evening my father would come in.  He would

yell for me. I would come out and he would, sometimes

drunkenly, sometimes not, ask me why I had lost her.  He

would have been crying a long time.  His eyes hurt.  I

could see he hurt.  His little girl was gone and his wife

was retreating inward and his son was silent and had let

her go.  

 



Emm looked up from the carefully printed words.  Mulder was on the

floor, legs under the coffee table.  He was carefully scribing his

schedule.  She felt as though she had burst through  the surface of

a murky, algae ridden lake, and was taking painful bursts of

burning air.  Emm's eyes flipped back to the page before her. 



     We would talk a few minutes.  His voice was always

clear and cold.  Eventually, different ways, different

times, I would wind up being hurt.  When he was enough in

control I wouuld pull down my Levis, pull down my BVD's,

lean over the dining room table and his belt would begin

strapping me.  Each stroke felt like liquid fire.  I

would count the strokes silently.  He would ask me: why? 

Why?  Why did I let her go?  I would cry and cry and each

stroke came down and burned and hurt and exploded into me

with agony.  There are no scars on my backside.  He was

very careful about scars.  If he ever cut my flesh he

would grab me, hold me close to him for a moment and then

find some new way to hurt me.  

     When he came in and he was not in control, he would

hit me.  I would huddle into some small ball and listen

to his acquistations.  I would do whatever he said

to do.  If I did not need to go to the emergency room

when he was done, when he had exhausted his supply of

anger for the evening, I would be allowed to go to bed.

     His anger, when it was out of control, terrified me.

He could not control it.  One time I was being kicked,

over and over and over agin, in the ribs.  I was trying

to gasp through the pain, and I knew that we would be

going to the emergency room this evening, that they would

again keep me overnight.  I looked up and I saw that my

father was not present.  I was staring at a demon of

anger who had come and taken possession of Dad. 

Sometimes, now, I feel the same demon in me, and it

terrifies me.  I want to kill, I want to hurt.  I do not

care, in those moments, what is right or wrong.  I just

want to hurt something.  



Emm wasn't sure she could read much more of this.  The rage.  She'd

seen that once.  She knew Mulder very rarely expressed any rage. 

He was known for his gentleness.  Yet, he had beaten his hand

against a wall and it had taken three people to restrain him, to

contain the anger.  Skinner had said that once he nearly choked

someone.  She remembered Scully's crack.  "I don't get the Mulder

treatment."  Oh God, what had she, Emmaline Harris, gotten herself

into.  She dealt with children.  She played with dolls and had her

crayons and board games.  She went into the FBI and counselled

people who had mild symptoms of PTSD.  This man, he needed. . .she

trailed.  He needed someone he could trust someone who would not

say he was crazy for believing in UFO's.  





     I never remember thinking that the pain was

unjustified.  My friends showed me the marks on their

bottoms for losing their lunch money or forgetting to

clean up their rooms.  Their fathers had belts too.  What

was the proper punishment for losing your sister?  What

pain could atone for that sin?

     When he came in on time, we would sit at the dinner

table, my father and I.  My mother excused herself

quickly, she did not want to see, to acknowledge.  He

would question me.  Did I remember anything today?  Had

anything of my memories come back?  Did I remember what

we had been doing?  How had I lost her?  Whose fault was

it?  Did I remember doing anything?  The questions were

relentless, piercing.  He would ask and ask and ask. 

Occasionally an answer of mine would enrage him and his

hand would snake out and hit me upside my head.  These

cuffs were hard.  I had headaches, tinitus, and

occasional blurred vision until I was two years into my

studies at Oxford.  Sometimes, if he had cuffed me

several times, blood would come out of my ear.  I would

think to myself, good.  Good. I couldn't remember, so my

dad hit me.  

     Emmaline, you asked me to write a page on the

reasons why it was not my fault and I have written you a

page describing the beatings instead.  Do you understand

now?  In that house in Chillmark Massachusetts, our pains

fed off of each other, were intertwined.  It was not my

father's fault exclusively.





There was no scrawl at the end.  He had not shown it to Scully. 

Mulder looked up, saw her pale face.  He put the pen down.  Emm

swallowed, regained her composure.  "Why did you show me this?"

     "I can't. . .Em, I tried so hard to write what you wanted." 

He looked at the pen.  "It felt like a lie.  It was a lie.  It made

my father into a villian."

     Emm barely restrained herself from saying the first thing that

popped into her mind: Your father was a villian.  Your father was

a monster.  You did not create the monster.  She had to change

Mulder's thinking, there was no way around that.  She had to

convince him that he had had no choice, that he had been,

essentially, helpless in the situation.  All the workshops and all

the articles about empowering people.  All the lectures about how

to make abused children feel as though they were in control of

their lives.  All the BS about raising self-esteem and then the

survivor would have the stength and self-image to admit, to admit

the rage and the pain, to take control.  But Mulder had admitted it

to Emm and admitted that he believed he had deserved it.  Heart and

soul he'd believed, even as he trembled with fear, even as he

retched out his stomach, that it was his fault the family'd gone to

hell.  That he deserved every lick, every cuff to the head. If he

hadn't thought he deserved it he never would have told her.   

     He'd not admitted this much to Scully.  He'd let her read

something--she'd told Emm that it was hard for her to accept, that

somehow he'd caused the abuse.  But now.  Now.  His obsessions made

such perfect sense.  

     She considered her options carefully.  He'd laid a stick of

dynamite into her lap and she needed time to deal with the

explosion.  Somehow, she had to make him see his helplessness, his

blamelessness.  She was kicking a brick wall, but what progress

were they going to fucking make if he couldn't relearn that one

pattern?

     "Where's Scully?"  Emm asked softly.  

     "I don't want her to read that.  I wrote that for you."

     "You don't trust her?"

     Mulder frowned.  "You know I trust her."

     "But not this much?"

     He took a deep breath.  "It's not that.  Please, Emm."

     "All right."  Emm swallowed again.  "Here's what we're going

to do.  I'm giving you your notebook.  I want you to put everything

in third person.  No motivations, no leaps or conclusions. I want

you to write, in summation, the events of your sister's abduction

and the aftermath.  Pretend you're writing about someone else, not

about you.  Lay out the entire story in third person and use proper

psychological terms."

     Mulder nodded silently.  

     "Now you give me the pages of your schedule and I'll make some

adjustments.  I'm going to call Scully.  I won't tell her about

these pages, since you don't want me too.  I am asking her to come

over and we'll work out your daily schedule.  I don't want you to

have any down time."

     "I'll be fine."

     Yeah.  He'd be the same Mulder, blaming himself for not

finding her, inventing reasons.  Emm remembered reading about the

case in Oklahoma, about Mulder's problems, how he'd identified with

the killer, had "seen" things.  The therapist hadn't caught wind of

anything terrifying, although reading it when preparing for

Mulder's evaluation had sent warning signals from her inner radar. 

But the radar hadn't given her a size or a shape, just a general

definition of fear.  

     She rifled through her electronic rolodex, found Scully's home

and cellular.  

     Not at home, but accessible on the cellular.

     "Scully, this is Emm."

     "Hi.  Didn't Mulder show?"

     "He did.  I'd really like him to stay with you for a couple of

nights."  Already, Em was calming down.  He'd lived with this 20

years.  He was living with it.  He'd developed coping stratagies or

he wouldn't be here, looking like a poster child for Beefcake's

Anonymous.

     She heard the phone being moved.  "Emm, can I call you back?"

     "Umm. . ."  Emm gave out another number.  "You'll get the

answering service if you use the regular number.  I'd really like

you to come down here."

     "What's wrong?"  Suddenly the easiness was gone from Scully's

voice.  

     "Nothing.  I just think Mulder needs to feel. . .safe.  We

need to go over a schedule for his next few days."

     Scully knew she was lying.  "I'm at my Godson's house.  Let me

say my goodbyes.  I'll be there in 30 minutes."





===================================================================



From: amperage@aol.com (Amperage)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: therapy 6 of 6



Sorry--I thought I had posted all 6, and then my online service was way

behind and. . .anyway.  Here it is.



All usual disclaimers.



Therapy

by Amperage@AOL.com

   Emm and Mulder were sitting at two different office computers,

DOOMing over the LANs system, when Scully showed up.  Scully stood

a moment behind Mulder's back, watching as he gleefully ambushed

Emm's character.  The little green character grasped its throat and

went down with a scream.  Scully looked around the office--

cluttered, messy, papers and post-its strewn everywhere.  Too many

people, too little space, Scully theorized, noting that three

different personalities had taken over a counter approximately 7

feet in length.  Mulder typed "She's here" and exited program.

"Hi."  He smiled easily.  "I'm sorry Emm interupted.  You don't

have much time with your. . ."

     "Eh. . ."  Scully dismissed.  "He's six.  It was past his

bedtime and he was was crankier than hell."  Someone padded down

the hall.  Emm.  "I made coffee."  She held up her mug.  "You want

any?"

     "Not right now.  I've just had three cups."  Scully replied,

letting herself be led into Emm's office.  There were several

papers on the coffee table, along with a daily planner.  

     Emm rifled through the papers, got out three xeroxed copies. 

"Scully, do you understand why I'm doing this?"

     "Not really. . ." Scully trailed.

     Emm looked at Mulder.  He sighed, rubbed his face.  "It's a

cognitive-behavioral technique used mostly with depressed

patients."  Mulder told his partner.  "I have to schedule my days

precisely.  The main goal is to keep the patient doing, without

long pauses or breaks--no time to sit around feeling sorry for

himself.  It also forces the patient into doing activities they may

have given up as the depression grew worse."

     "In most adults we rely on honor to make sure the schedule is

followed."  Emm added.  "I trust Mulder, but. . .I want some

backup.  This is a lot to ask of you, Dana."

     Scully frowned, shrugged.  "I don't think it's a lot."  She

said quietly.  "What am I responsible for?"

     "Okay.  We've worked out Mulder's schedule for tomorrow.  This

is flexible, but pretty much, on this paper, we've got what Mulder

needs to be doing and when he needs to be doing it.  There aren't

a lot of breaks, except in the evening when he gets to choose some

recreational activity."

     Scully flipped through the pages.  "I don't think this is a

problem.  If he doesn't keep to schedule, what do I do?"

     "You call me."  Emm replied smoothly.

     Scully nodded.  "What's going on?"  She said calmly.  "Why

don't you trust Mulder to keep to this schedule on his own?"

     "Because it's a hard thing.  He's going to need help."  Stupid

answer, but what answer could she give?  Mulder had told her he

didn't want Scully reading it and unless the time ever came when

Mulder was judged incompetent, Emm had to keep his confidences.

     Scully was staring hard at her partner.  "So it's okay to just

rely on me to be there, but not to tell me why?  This,"  she shook

the paper, "isn't supposed to make me feel sorry for you, but the

reason why is?"

     Mulder frowned, stared at his partner, closed his eyes,

swallowed clumsily. His hands were clutching at the edge of Emm's

couch, clutching and releasing, and it really made Emm glad she

hadn't invested much money in her furniture, because he was going

to rip a hole in the upholstery in a minute.  "I can't."  He

said and the voice was soft, was anguished.  "I just can't.  I

don't understand."  He told Emm.  "I'm the same person.  Why don't

I. . ." And he trailed.  He knew that Emm had her justifications. 

If you identify a paranoid schizophrenic who believes that the

President is really Beelzebub, you take immediate steps for

comittal, whether he's been running around in public with that

idea for years or not.

     "Fuck it."  The words were unexpected.  Mulder got his file

from the coffee table, found the copy of the notebook entry that

had so frigtened Emm ,and handed it to his partner.

    



     As she read it, Dana Scully's expression changed subtly. 

Her mouth tightened slightly.  Her body tensed.  When she looked

up, she was silent.  She took off her reading glasses, set the

paper down on the coffee table.  "I didn't know."  She said softly.

"God, Mulder, how could you walk around with this inside you and

not ever tell anyone?"

     Mulder stared at his partner.  "It wasn't important."

     Scully nodded, not an accepting nod, just an "oh I see,

*that's* what you thought" nod.  She stared at her lap.  "I

remember when I first walked into your office. . .everyone

thought you were crazy, but nobody thought you weren't brilliant. 

I knocked on the door and you'd made all these assumptions. . .I

remember when I figured it out that you'd been abused as a child

and I thought.  `Oh.  So that's why he acts so obsessed.'. .

.When they shut down the X-files, and you started to get. .

.depressed. . .I remember you started to think maybe your belief

in your sister's abduction might be misplaced, might not be true. 

And I knew that if you did that you wouldn't have any focus left,

you'd have nothing.  There'd be this gaping pit of hurt in you

and nothing, no one would be able to fill it."  She paused,

stared at Mulder.  "You never talk about it."

     "No."  He agreed.  

     "You had a nearly normal family life when she was . . .with

you, didn't you?"

     "Yeah.  I guess so."

     "What are you looking for?  Is it because everything went to

hell afterwards?  Is it because your father beat the need to know

into you?"

     "I want to find her, because. . ."  Mulder stared at Scully,

wrapped his arms around his chest.  "Because I love her.  Because

then, maybe everything will be all right.  Becaue I lost her. 

She loved me.  I was her big brother and I could do anything." 

He closed his eyes, tried to keep from crying.  "But I couldn't. 

I couldn't save her, I couldn't rescue her, and now I can't find

her."  His mouth was tight and tears trickled down from his

closed eyes.  He held onto the sobs so tightly it was painful for

Scully and Em to watch.  His entire body shook with the force of

the withheld torment he was experiencing.  

     Emm got the sense that when Mulder was beaten, this was how he

cried.  She wanted to touch him, to hold him the way she held the

children she counselled, to draw him into her lap, put her hands

over the tight fists, and rock him while she hummed a wordless,

nearly tuneless lullaby.  She could not do that without alienating

him.  It was Scully, finally, who went to him.  Mulder jerked away.

He did not want to be touched.  Scully persisted, took his wrists

into her hands, pulled his head against her shoulder.  Mulder

accepted for a moment, then suddenly jerked away, stared around the

room and dashed for the trash can.

     He heaved, great choking, hiccuping heaves, painful to listen

to.  The retching went on and on.  He jerked sharply away from

Scully when she tried to put a hand on his back, to help him in any

way.  

     He sat in the corner, staring blankly at a wall until Emm came

over and shooed Scully away.  "What?"  She asked, sitting close,

but not invading his privacy zone.  "Why did you have to vomit? 

It's okay.  Mulder, we need to talk abut what's happening."

     It was the wrong thing to say, apparently.  Mulder stared a

Emm a moment.  Then pushed her from her safe kneeling position onto

her butt.  She sprawled.  Mulder rushed out the door.  Scully was

after him.  

     "Mulder.  Damn it Mulder!"  Emm heard her scream down the

hallway.  "Stop it.  Stop it."  She heard shoving, heard a door

open and then heard the door being shut.  "You'll have to hit me to

get out.  I'm not letting you go.  Damn it Mulder, go back in there

and sit down!"

     "Fuck you!  You don't have to go through this.  It isn't your

memories she's fucking with.  Fuck you, Miss perfect nuclear

family; Fucking Daddy's favorite.  Two brothers to protect you;

older sister to show you beauty secrets and how to suck cock.  Fuck

you to Hell!"  His voice was strangled, raging, and to Emm's ears,

terrifying.  Emm swallowed, picked herself up.  These are the

little joys of working with adults, she reminded herself.  She was

going to watch Fox Mulder hurt his partner.  

     "No.  I'm not letting you go."  Her voice was confident,

unshaken, unnoticing of his fear-borne curses.  "What are you going

to do?  Spend the rest of your life blaming yourself?  The Fucking

Goddamn Federal Government can't keep people from being abducted,

but one twelve year old boy can?  I know you loved her.  I know." 

The voice grew suddenly tender.  Emm stood in the hallway, watching

the pair.  "I see it everyday that you loved her.  You would have

done anything to save her."  Scully's voice cracked.  Emm heard a

sob, though she could not see Scully's face for Mulder's figure,

towering over his partner.  "I know.  But Mulder, it wasn't your

fault.  You are the most important person in my life.  I can't let

you leave.  You can't just walk out.  I can't let you go on

thinking that what happened was your fault.  It isn't true and it

isn't fair and it hurts. . ." a sob. . ."it hurts me to know that

you think that.  Mulder, this isn't just about you or your

stubbornness. Your life affects mine.  If you can't overcome this,

the problem's going to get worse.  I don't know what will happen,

but I. . ." another sob, this one painful,  ". . .I couldn't bear

to lose you.  I just couldn't stand it."  Her voice broke

completely on the last word.  

     Mulder wrapped his arms around his partner tenderly, gently. 

They stood, wrapped in each other's arms, crying.  Emm left them

alone.



     When it was over and the tears were done, Emm entered the

waiting room.  She did not say anything, just sat quietly in a

chair, handed both agents some kleenex, some bottled water.  "What,

do you keep this on stock for crying jags?"  Mulder asked as he

broke the seal.  

     "Crying jags and thirsty psychotherapists."  Emm replied with

a smile.  "And what do you know?"

     "He fits both categories."  Scully said.  "What do we do now?"

     "Well, I was going to suggest that Mulder come in bright and

early Monday morning at 7.  I'm going to rearrange my schedule and

make some time tomorrow for Mulder.  Dana, I'd like you to come

in sometime soon.  We'll find one of my secretly empty slots."

     "Secretly empty slots?"  Scully inquired.

     "Times she's supposed to be doing research or making phone

calls are editing her papers for publication."  Mulder told his

partner, wrily.  "I don't know how she's kept her partners

bamboozled for so long."

     "They're slow."  Emm replied.  "Didn't you know that's how I

chose my partners?"

      "I always wondered why Ethan Daniels got a job here."

     "Well, now you know."  Emm swallowed.  "Mulder and I didn't

make a schedule for this weekend.  We figured you two could make it

out.  You can do it tomorrow and fax it over here during the day."

     Scully nodded.  "What happens if there are any problems?"

     "You call me.  I don't care what time it is.  The answering

service will put you through."  

     Another nod.  "If Mulder. . .if he. . ."

     "If I wig out completly then you call 911 first, Emm next." 

Mulder told her.

     Emm nodded tiredly.  It was the required practice.  

     "Don't you remember anything you learned at Quantico about

dealing with lunatics?"  Mulder ribbed gently.





     

     Em sat a long time in her office, only the lamp over her desk

turned on, reading and rereading Mulder's confession.  She'd worked

with adult survivors of abuse before.  Seen them screw up their

lives, seen them come in because the court mandated it after they'd

beaten their own children.  But it had never frightened her so

much.  Mulder was intelligent, attractive, and professional.  If he

hadn't lost control on one horrific case, Emm wouldn't be here. 

Mulder wouldn't be getting the help he needed so badly.  She

wondered what would be happening if she hadn't interceded after the

evaluation, insisted that the Bureau give *her* this case, not

handed it down to an LPC with a master's in psych or social work. 

It might be working.  He might be talking.  She glanced back at the

old files she'd gotten from his other therapists.  On the other

hand, he knew the game, he knew how to play it so that the

therapist was pleased and let him go.  When Verber hadn't played

the game, Mulder had cut and run.  Verber had been private, not

mandated, so there'd been no repercussions. 

     Emm contemplated her next move.  Mulder did not consciously

remember any of abuse before Sam's birth.  He knew *something* had

happened, but was fuzzy on what.  For a kid who remembered things

that had happened as an infant, that was damned odd.  She took a

deep breath, went back to the earliest records she'd gotten from

the FBI: Mulder's background check and interviews.   No evidence of

abuse.  Mulder had admitted to his sister's dissappearance, to the

fact that his father had hit him.  The interviewer hadn't pressed

too much, and Mulder made it sound minor, just the act of someone

upset, not an act of brutality.

     Background check.  He was clean.  Nothing, not even a speeding

ticket in England.  Professors liked him immensely, brilliant

student, plenty of good friends.  Mother very quiet and shy, but

ameable.  No problems.  Father cold, hadn't seen son in a while,

but no reports of any problems.  High school teachers--brilliant

child, thought he was going to be a great success.  No mention of

any abuse was made.  Of course not.  It might hurt his chances for

a career in the FBI.

     Emm rubbed her eyes under the glasses.  32 and already wearing

bi-focals, she thought wearily.  She flipped a few pages.  There

were a couple of minor citations--he'd done this or that, nothing

that would hurt his chances for advancement.  Then a note of his

transfer to Behavioral Sciences.  Three month later he'd been

writing profiles.  He'd shot so far so fast.  One of the most

glamourous jobs in the FBI.  There were only 10 people assigned to

writing profiles.  3 years out of Quantico, with no prior law

enforcement experience, and he was writing profiles for Behavioral

Sciences.  His profiles were "spooky" too.  Dead-on every time.  A

couple of years in Behavioral and then a citation, then another. 

Assigned to therapy following an incident in Oklahoma.  His

profiles got better, his behavior became eratic.  Then he'd started

digging into the X-files.  He went into therapy again, voluntarily.

Transfered to Verber.  His behavior didn't get any better, but

there weren't many efforts made.  The opinion Emm read was:was: he

was in therapy, what more did anyone ask?

     Transfer back to violent crimes.  No explanation.  A lot of

bad reports--citations, censures, a suspension of two days that was

later rescinded and not supposed to hurt his career.  Yeah right. 

But his efficiency rating on the X-files he'd taken upon himself

was pretty good.  Okay.  Then Scully comes along.  Less bad

reports.  Efficieny rating goes through the roof.  An investigation

to see if they were fudging anywhere only sends the rating higher. 

Without explanation, Mulder is suddenly in surveilance.  Then

without explanation again, he is back in the X-files, only the X-

files are given official status as a division.  Mulder is the

division head, given appropriate salary increase.  

     Which led Emm to where they were.  She noted there were a lot

of hospital bills affixed in a separate file.  More than she'd ever

seen for a single agent.  So he was accident prone.  So are a lot

of abuse survivors.  Was he unconsciously suicidal?

     No.  That implied a need for death.  Mulder just didn't care

about himself enough not to take chances.  When the choice came

between himself and a case, there was no question: he didn't

matter.  The Truth did.

     Emm read the Mulder's page again.  She could not hospitalize

him.  She could not increase his therapy sessions by any great

amount without explaining, without upgrading his DSM-IV diagnosis--

times like this she wished they were back in the old days before

Managed care, before it was dictated clearly how many hours a week

you had before you had to tell the insurance company that the

patient was a lot worse off than you'd thought he was.

     Emm took off her glasses, put her face in her hands, breathed

a few minutes, thought of nothing, then quickly, in her own file on

F. Mulder, wrote her next objective for Mulder's therapy.

     



     Mulder has to understand that he is a worthwhile

individual, that he was helpless in his sister's

abduction, and that he did nothing to deserve or warrant

abuse.  That the abuse was wrong.  I expect to obtain

this objective around the time Hell freezes over. 





She yawned and closed the file.

















 Author's note:

There will be more.  I hope.  This is hard stuff to write.