“Hello, I’m Doctor Deriksen. I’ll be your psychiatrist for the next few months. Have a seat.”
     The room was dimly lit and unnervingly devoid of decoration. Just a chair and a couch. The two pieces of furniture looked abandoned and alone, almost as if it was forgotten in the rush and desire to move away from such a God-forsaken place. The man in the straight-jacket was led to the couch by a guard. He sat down and faced the doctor.
     “I understand that you killed someone?” the doctor asked, sounding as if he were asking if it was particularly chilly outside.
     “It was an accident.”
     “That’s what I’ve been told.” Deriksen looked over his notes. “You accidentally shot this woman because you thought she was... someone else?”
     “It was a notion that was pushed into my head so that I would believe it. Their thoughts becoming my own.”
     “Right.” The doctor said inconvincingly. And they wonder what they’re doing here... he thought to himself.
     “You don’t believe me... I’m not surprised. No one does...” He paused. “Not anymore.”
     “At this moment, it isn’t about what I believe, but what you think or know in your mind to be true. What you think you know happened. Tell me... er... I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
     The man in the straight-jacket stared out of a barred window. “Mulder. Fox Mulder.”
     “Alright, Fox-”
     “No,” he interrupted. “Not Fox. Mulder.”

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     “Mulder?”
 
     As he told his version of events to Doctor Deriksen, he could almost hear his partner’s voice, as if she were still around. She had said his name so many times that the word seemed to fit her mouth. Almost like she was the only one who could truly say it right.
 
     He heard Scully’s voice in the distance. It sounded strained and afraid. He ran and rounded a corner in the warehouse. His heart was pounding. Some distance ahead of him, Scully stood calmly.
     “Scully, what are you doing here?”
     “You were right about her, Mulder.” Her gun rose slowly until it was pointed straight at him.
     “Scully.” She wouldn’t shoot me, he thought to himself.
     “She's making me do this,” Scully said in a quiet tone. Cliiick! She cocked the hammer on her gun.
 
    “We were investigating the disappearance of a man named Robert Modell. He escaped from prison. Only it wasn’t him who had been killing people that time. It was his sister...” Mulder told the doctor quietly.

     Linda Bowman, he thought bitterly. Well, even if she is controlling Scully, she won’t shoot me... Not to kill, anyway... “Where is she?” he demanded.
    “She’s here. Mulder, make her stop,” Scully pleaded. “I can’t help myself.”
    Mulder shouted. “Linda Bowman!”
    “Mulder, make her stop,” she repeated.
 
     “She left a clue on the nightstand in Modell’s hospital room. A piece of paper with the word ‘nurse’ written on it. On the back was an address. 214 Channel Avenue.” His voice was slow and his eyes looked haunted. As if the ghosts of loved ones long past kept him from sleeping.
 
     “Show yourself!” he yelled. The coward! Using Scully to kill me... She can’t even do it herself. He had gotten lost in his thoughts.
     “Mulder.” She said in a soft voice. Her gun moved slowly. It was no longer pointed at him. It was aimed at her own head.
 
     “Bowman had the power, like her brother, to force her will onto others. Just by saying the words, she could make a person believe anything. Do anything.”
 
    He could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a moment. Maybe more than a moment. Killing him was one thing. Killing herself was something entirely different. “No!” He ran toward her. “No!”