Title: Color Games Author: Susan E-mail: susanf34@comcast.net Classification: story Keyword: Mulder angst and psychological torture, some disturbing images Spoilers: Requiem, One Breath, Amor Fati Rating: PG Archive: No archive without permission. Disclaimer: This character doesn't belong to me. I wish he did. Author's notes: In the summer of 2000 after Requiem first aired, I wrote the "Color Games" series, ten vignettes that chronicled Mulder's descent into madness while he was being held captive by the aliens. What I've done with this story is some combining and revising of all the vignettes into one story for your reading pleasure...or perhaps it will be your *reading torture*. Actually, writing this story was quite a departure from my usual fare, but it was a side trip I enjoyed taking very much.:) More notes at the end. Summary: I used to be able to escape into my imagination whenever I needed to, but now my mind feels gray and heavy and clouded with nothing but memories of my time here. **************************************************************** Color Games by Susan ~~~~ ---------------- all i have left ---------------- I think I've been here for five days although I cannot be sure, just as I cannot be sure of the fact that I'm here at all. Four walls surround me, each of them painted black. One wall has a door, but it's small, about two feet high. I have a bed to lie on with one pillow and one sheet. They are black too, and so is the ceiling. Everything that surrounds me is dark except for my clothes. They are not black. They're white, an intense white like newly fallen snow on a sunny day, a white that actually hurts my eyes when I look at it. So I don't. Every day They bring me some new white clothes, one shirt and one pair of pants. The pants have no elastic or drawstring around the waist, yet somehow they manage to stay up. I close my eyes when I change my clothes, but I feel my bones every time I slip the scratchy fabric over my skin. Two times a day they bring food to me, once in the morning and once at night...at least I think They come at those times. It's difficult to tell as I have no concept of time anymore. The food they give me looks like regular food, but it tastes like nothing I've ever eaten before. I know They put drugs in it because I always pass out before I can finish eating it, but I eat it anyway. I don't know why. Usually when I come to, I am lying on the floor with my feet touching one wall and my head pressed against the two foot door. It is my guess that They perform tests on me while I'm passed out, then drag me back here on my stomach and slide me through the door when They're done. All I know is that every time I'm brought back, my knees are scraped and my ribs hurt. And I'm dizzy afterwards, always dizzy. When I open my eyes the first thing I always see is the ceiling, and I imagine that I'm flying. Flying in between the stars, flying past the moon, flying home... I imagine a lot of things in between these walls. Once the dizziness passes, I pull myself up off the floor and crawl into bed. My pillow and sheet always smell bad after the tests. Or maybe it's my own skin that I smell. I'm usually so exhausted after the tests that I don't care how things smell or look or feel though. All I want to do is sleep. But I can't. They did something to me, and no matter how hard I try my brain won't allow me to sleep. I can close my eyes. I can clear my mind. I can relax my body. But sleep never comes between these walls. And so I lie here until They bring the next meal, and I imagine. It's all I have left. ----------------- drowning in blue ----------------- My room is blue today. I open my eyes, expecting to see black, but I'm surrounded by blue now, a brilliant blue like the sky after it rains. Four blue walls and a two-foot door. One blue ceiling. One blue pillow and one blue sheet. Even my clothes are blue. I'm drowning in blue. I hated the darkness I was in before, but at least then I had the contrast of my white clothes with the black walls and my black bed. Now I can't tell where I begin and the room ends. I sniff the air, trying to smell for paint fumes. I smell nothing. I touch the wall, but it doesn't feel like it's been recently painted, nor does it look like it has been. Did They simply move me to another room after the last round of tests? I don't remember it if They did. Or maybe I don't want to remember. When They perform tests on me, They usually stick needles into my neck. I can't see if there are any new marks on my neck, but if They did something to me recently, I'll be able to feel them. I can always feel them. I press my fingers into the skin around my neck, working my way from the front to the back. I can feel dozens of tiny scabs from all the other times, but I don't feel any new marks. This has to be the same room I've always been in, but how could it be? How did I go from being smothered in black to drowning in blue? They've taken so much away from me already. I guess now They want my sanity too. Well, They're going to have to do a lot more than this to get it. I won't let Them break me. I just won't. I lay my head down on the pillow, close my eyes, and imagine I'm in my apartment lying in my own bed. It feels so much softer than this bed and the sheets smell clean and I can hear her softly snoring beside me. I roll over and wrap myself around her and she feels so warm and I feel so loved and I'm not drowning in blue anymore. I'm drowning in Scully. If only she could pull me all the way under and keep me there... ---------- nightmare ---------- I can't move. I'm lying in my bed on my stomach with my arms at my sides, and my head turned towards the wall. I don't know how long I've been lying this way. The wall is green today. It's a dark green, like the needles on a pine tree. Looking at it reminds me of being in the forest...being helpless... being taken away and brought here. I don't like green. I want to turn away from it and look at something else, but I can't move. I can't even tip my head down enough to see whether or not my clothes are green. But I'm sure they are. I don't know what it is They're trying to accomplish with this color game of Theirs, but it's not going to work. I won't let it. I try to scream out, "You're not going to break me!", but when I open my mouth, all that comes out is a smooth green fluid that I don't recognize. And I can't move. I can feel the mysterious fluid trickle down my chin and onto my pillow and then it's traveling down my neck and it burns....oh God, it burns.... But I can't move. It slowly spreads out over my chest and I can feel it soaking through my shirt and eating away at my skin and it hurts...oh God, it hurts.... But I can't move. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to turn my head away from the fluid, but I'm jabbed in the neck with what feels like hundreds of tiny needles. Not just once, but over and over again. And I can't move. The veins in my neck start pulsating with so much force that I can barely breathe, and the pain is so excruciating that I wish I was dead. And then I am. --------------- the white room --------------- I'm in a white room. In the middle of it is a table. Seated behind the table is my family. My father is wearing a black suit, and the shadows around him are so dark I can barely see his face. Next to him is my mother. She's wearing a gray dress and is also surrounded by a haze of dark shadows. Samantha is sitting at the end of the table. Her hair is in braids, and she's wearing a pink dress. A golden light outlines her entire body, and unlike my parents, I can see her very clearly. I know in my mind that all of my family is dead, yet here they are sitting at a table just a few feet away from me. So I guess that means I'm dead now too, right? I want to get a better look at all of them, but when I try to walk towards the table, my feet feel like they're cemented to the floor. I bend down and desperately pull on my legs, trying to lift my feet up, but they won't move. I feel completely helpless. Again. I stand back up and beg them to help me, but my parents only stare at me. I don't like the emptiness I see in their eyes, and I quickly turn away. And that's when I see Samantha. I just saw her sitting at the table with them, yet now she's standing right in front of me. Her body is silhouetted in a soft golden light and when I look into her eyes, I don't see the same emptiness I saw in my parents' eyes. I see love. Strength. Trust. Before I have a chance to say anything, she puts her hand behind my neck, pulls my face down closer to hers, and whispers, "You have to fight Them, Fox." I'm surprised to hear her voice, and my heart rate immediately speeds up. "But how can I do that, Samantha? I'm already dead," I whisper back as I tentatively brush my hand across her cheek. "No, Fox...it's not your time yet. Fight Them. Don't let Them win," she says, touching my cheek in return. And then she's gone. And so is the white room. There's a dark green wall right in front of me, and I'm lying in the bed on my stomach with my arms pinned at my sides, and oh God, I remember now.... Green liquid flowing out of my mouth. And not being able to move. Green liquid eating away at my body. And not being able to move. Hundreds of needles stabbing me in the neck. And wishing I was dead. But I'm not. I'm not dead. Samantha told me that it wasn't my time yet. And I believe her. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to sit up. And I can. I look down at my clothes, and there's not a drop of liquid on them. There are no burns on my skin, no green liquid on my bed or on the floor. It's as if nothing ever happened. At least that's what They want me to think. But I know differently... --------------- yellow ribbons --------------- I can't seem to get her voice out of my head. And I don't want to. Ever since I saw her in the white room, I can't stop thinking about Samantha. How was she able to speak to me, and how was I able to hear her? How was she able to touch my cheek, and how was I able to feel it? I know she's dead, but everything about her seemed so real. Her voice. Her touch. The pink dress. The way she looked at me. Even her yellow ribbons were just like the ones she used to wear in her hair when we were kids. No matter what color clothes she put on for the day, she always had to wear those yellow ribbons in her hair. She wore them at the bottom of her braids and the tops of her pigtails. If she was wearing a ponytail, mom would somehow weave the ribbons into her hair, and if she was wearing a barrette, she'd find a way to wrap one of the ribbons around it. She loved those yellow ribbons, and even though I teased her about them and hid them from her sometimes, I always thought she looked beautiful in them. But I never told her that. Just like I never told her a lot of things. Maybe if I close my eyes and imagine it hard enough, I can go back to the white room and tell her how pretty she looks in her yellow ribbons. And how proud I am to be her brother. And how sorry I am about not being able to protect her. And how much I still miss her. Samantha? Is that you? Where? I can't see you. Where are you, Samantha? I want to see you. Help me go back to the white room so I can see you. Okay, I promise. No...don't go. Please Samantha, don't leave me. Come back. I need you. I promise. All of a sudden, a cold tingling sensation rushes through my body with such force it knocks me off my bed and onto the floor. And that's when I see them. Two yellow ribbons lying underneath my bed. I carefully pick them up and close my eyes, clutching them to my chest. She told me she was always with me. And now I believe her. -------- stolen -------- The walls are silent now. And so are my thoughts. Ever since my talk with Samantha, I haven't been able to imagine anything. I think They're punishing me. I don't know how, but I think They got inside my head and found a way to steal my thoughts. I used to be able to escape into my imagination whenever I needed to, but now my mind feels gray and heavy and clouded with nothing but memories of my time here. I know I had a life before this. I know that somewhere out there there's a woman worrying about me and waiting for me to come home. I can feel her. I just can't remember her. Sometimes if I take long deep breaths and concentrate really hard, I can see her eyes. They're soft and blue and they comfort me. But they're all I have of her. They won't let me see anything else. Whenever I try to imagine more of her face, They always stop me. Sometimes the pulling sensations in my head are so strong I'd swear They were vacuuming out my brain. Other times They go for the more direct approach...shooting electrical jolts into the backs of my eyes until I pass out. So far I've tried to see her four times, and each time the pain has been more excruciating than the time before. But I won't give up. I can't give up. Somehow I have to find a way to take control of my thoughts again and get back to the woman with the blue eyes. She's waiting for me. ---------- breaking ---------- I'm breaking. Like a wave as it crashes into the shoreline and dissolves into cold liquid droplets, I'm breaking into tiny pieces of bones and flesh. I have refused to eat the last several meals They've offered me, and I can now feel my ribs poking through my shirt. I'm losing the strength in my arms, and my pants fall off my legs if I try to stand up. I'm breaking. Like a mirror as it shatters into shards of jagged reflections, I'm breaking into sharp silver edges...cold hard edges... I thought if I refused my food, I wouldn't pass out and They wouldn't be able to do any tests on me. I thought that if I was always alert, I would be able to somehow regain control of my thoughts. But I was wrong. I still can't imagine anything. I still can't hear Samantha. I still can't see the woman with the blue eyes. I'm losing myself. And They're winning. I'm breaking. Like a crystal goblet as it drops to a hardwood floor, I'm breaking into a million pieces of glass...hard bitter glass.... I'm breaking. And there's nothing I can do to stop it. ------------------------- into blackness and back ------------------------- I'm in the white room again. But this time it looks different. The table is still in the middle of the room, but the chairs that were once occupied by my family are now empty. I call out Samantha's name, but all I hear in response is my own weak voice faintly echoing off the walls. I promised her I wouldn't let Them bring me here, but what little strength I have left is not enough for me to fight Them anymore. I'm dying. And this time I don't think Samantha can save me. I gently close my eyes and for the first time since They took me, I let myself cry. The tears come painfully slow at first, then quickly turn into a waterfall of emotions, gushing down my cheeks and splashing onto the white floor. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to die. Oh Samantha, where are you? My tears start coming even faster and my body shudders so forcefully, I can feel my ribs splintering with every breath. It hurts...Oh God...it hurts... With shaky hands, I manage to reach down and pull up the bottom of my shirt so I can wipe my face with it. After quickly brushing the cool white cotton over my wet flushed skin, I open my eyes. But what I see in front of me knocks me to my knees. There is black everywhere. Black trickling down the walls. Black dripping off the edges of the table. Black pooling around my legs. I rub my eyes again, hoping that when I open them, everything will be white again, but when I take my hands away from my face, the tears that cover them are black too. And then I feel myself sinking. Slowly sinking deeper and deeper into blackness until I no longer feel anything. And then I die again. Alone. Samantha? Is that you? Who? Scully? I don't know who you are. It can't be. I can't see you now. How can I open my eyes? I'm already dead. What do you mean I don't belong here? Yes, it is. I told you I'm already dead. How do you know? But how? You're too late. You can't save me. No one can. They already have. I want to fight, but I can't. Scully, is that really you? I want to, Scully. Help me. Help me see you. All of a sudden, I feel a cold chill sweep across my body, and then I'm floating. Slowly floating out of blackness and back to Scully. I can feel my arms and legs tingling and my eyelids fluttering and my lungs filling with her strength as she brings me back to life. And then I see her. Not just her blue eyes, but all of her. And she's beautiful. She smiles at me and holds out her hand, and I quickly reach out to take it. Her skin is soft and warm and perfect, and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of it. I want to touch more of her, to pull her even closer. I want to tell her how much I've missed her and how much I love her. But when I open my eyes, she's gone. And I am left alone. Again. ---------------- something real ---------------- I'm not dead anymore. At least I don't think I am. I remember Scully telling me that she needs me and that she loves me. I remember feeling cold and floating. I remember touching her soft skin and looking into her deep blue eyes. After that, I remember nothing. I have no idea how long I've been lying here, but looking around I can tell I'm still in the white room. And I'm alone. Once I sit up, I immediately notice something flashing on the wall at the other end of the room. With shaky arms, I lift myself up off the floor. My legs feel weak and unsteady, but I start walking anyway, holding onto the wall to keep my balance. As I get closer to where the flashing is, the colors become so bright that it hurts my eyes to look at them, but I don't look away. I can't look away. At first all the images appear to be out of focus, but the longer I stand there looking at them, the clearer they become. *You've got to get up, Mulder.* ...I don't know what's wrong... *No one can do it but you, Mulder.* ...I started feeling really dizzy... *Mulder, help me.* ...I started getting chills... *Please Mulder.* ...I just want to get warm... It's Scully. She's still here. I don't hear her voice like I did before, but she's trying to tell me something else. I know it. I take another step forward, then cautiously reach out to touch one of the flashing images in front of me. Blue sparks of heat rush through my fingertips and up my arms the moment my hand makes contact with the surface, but I don't feel any pain. All I feel is Scully. I can feel her pulsating through my entire body, filling me with every part of her. But wait. I feel something else. Something that touches an even deeper place inside me, something that's beautiful and pure. And real. Almost instantly my eyes fill with tears and my heart trembles with joy because I know now. I know now what Scully's been trying to tell me, and I know what I have to do. I have to find a way to get home. She needs me. And so does our baby. --------------------------- the power of the physical --------------------------- I have to escape. Now that I know about our child, I will not allow Them to keep me here any longer. I just won't. When They finally came and got me from the white room, I fought Them harder than I ever have, kicking and screaming all the way down the hall. I even bit one of Them on the arm. They were not pleased. When They shoved me back through the door to my room, Their voices were loud and angry, but as I listened to Them arguing, I got a strong sense of something else. Confusion. I've always tried to fight Their mind games with the power of my own thoughts, but this is the first time I've ever used the power of my physical strength. And They don't understand it. Is it possible that I could escape simply by landing a few well-placed blows to Their bodies? Pressing my ear up against the wall, I try to listen to some more of what They're saying, but all I hear are muffled voices speaking in a language I don't understand. By the time They're finally done talking, my ribs are throbbing so much from all my thrashing around that it hurts even to walk the short distance over to my bed. I know I should try to lie down and get some rest, but I can't. I have too much to think about now. I have to escape. Scooting myself up to the head of the bed, I put the pillow behind me, lean back against it, and close my eyes. Thoughts of Scully and our baby immediately flood my mind and all the tears I cried earlier come rushing back, streaming down my cheeks and onto my shirt. I have to escape. Scully needs me now more than ever before. And so does our baby. Our baby... Can it really be true? With so many odds against us, how were we able to create a new life together? Samantha? Is that you? Where have you been? I thought something had happened to you. Are you alright? What do you mean...listening? How? I suddenly find it hard to breathe, and I place my right hand over my heart, hoping that the pressure against my chest will somehow help calm me down. But how can you hear her? You don't even know where she is. I can't even see you. How can you help me? They don't understand physical aggressiveness? Are you saying that all I have to do is use my physical strength against Them? But how? But Samantha, I... Please...you can't go yet, Samantha. All of a sudden, I feel a cold tingling sensation rush through my body, its intensity so powerful it knocks me off the bed and onto the floor. And that's when it hits me. I know what to do now. I know how to escape. I bend down, reach underneath the bed, and pull out the two yellow ribbons Samantha left for me before. I'm coming home, Scully. And soon. ~end~ *For those of you that are now shouting at your computer screen things like: "How in the world could you end things there? What did he do with the ribbons? How did he escape?"...I purposely left the ending wide open so you, the reader, could use *your* minds to imagine your own ending. If you liked taking this journey with me into the sensitive and brilliant mind of Fox Mulder, I would very much like to know that.:) susanf34@comcast.net possibilities http://possibilities/bravehost.com/ Originally posted Summer 2000. Revised and combined June 2002.