Dear Scully by Rebecca Rusnak DISCLAIMER: Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. SPOILERS: None RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: SA SUMMARY: An experiment. Mulder. Letters to Scully. FEEDBACK: To rrusnak@avana.net AUTHOR'S NOTES: Please note that any and all spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors are intentional, and not due to careless editing. **** April 16, 1998 Dear Scully, You're going to laugh, really. I promise. Wait. First, are you sitting down? They got me, Scully. And in such a way I'm almost embarrassed to tell you. They used that classic "stranded motorist" act, and I fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. Let me set the stage: There I am, out running late at night, oblivious to my surroundings. I breast a hill and there's the car, jacked up, one wheel off, a young man kneeling beside it, cursing a blue streak. He says, "Hey, buddy, can you help me out here?" And I say, "Sure," stop running, lean down, and get whacked on the head with his lug wrench. Stop laughing. It's not funny, really. My head hurts. I don't know where this is, Scully, or for that matter, why I've got a pen and some paper in this cell, but nothing else. It's almost as if they want me to write to you. I'm sure the odds that you will receive these letters are slim to none, but since my captors have not seen fit to provide me with any other stimulation, I suppose I'll keep writing. Anyway. You must be frantic with worry by now. But this isn't my fault. Really. **** April ? 1998 Dear Scully, They did something to me, Scully. I don't know what it was, and they won't tell me, no matter how much I yell at them. All I remember is they came into my room, and one of them have a needle. I struggled and tried to fight, but there were too many of them, and I ended up on the floor, helpless to stop them. They stuck me with that needle, and lifted me onto a hospital gurney. Whatever they shot me up with worked fast, because I fell asleep as they were strapping me down. I don't know what they did to me, Scully, and it's driving me crazy. It's taken me two days to get the strength to move from my bed to this table. I'm still awfully light-headed, and I've got a terrible headache. Nobody pays any attention to me, Scully. I spent what felt like hours shouting for someone and they all ignored me. I don't understand what's happening. **** April 21, 1998 Dear Scully, I feel much better today. Strong enough to describe to you my spacious accomodations. Sorry. Sarcasm really doesn't interpret well on paper, does it? I'm in a small room with white walls, tile floor, acoustic-tiled ceiling. Camera in the corner. It always watches me. I've got a bed, toilet and sink, and this table and chair. I eat here, as well as write to you. Three times a day I get meals, brought to me by a burly black guy. I asked him the date today, and he told me. I'd lost track of time, earlier. I didn't know how long I was out of it. I still don't know what they did to me, Scully. Nobody will tell me, and I've given up asking. The man who brings my meals wouldn't answer any of my other questions. I'm starting to get worried. **** April 22, 1998 Dear Scully, The man who brings my meals is named Lemyoel--Lemoul--hell, I don't know how to spell his name. I'll just call him Lem. He brought me more writing paper today, as well as more soap and toilet paper. Looks like I'm here for the long haul. Its so quiet here, so lonely. I tried reciting old plays and books to myself, but I can't seem to do it for very long. I think the solitude is beginning to wear me down. **** April 22--Later I've been thinking alot lately, remembering back to our first cases together. And I can't recall the name of the city we first travelled to, up in Oregon. Do you remember that, Scully? I remember sitting next to you in the hotel room, and Theresa Nemmens nose bleeding in the cafe, but for the life of me I can't remember the city. It's lonely here, Scully. I sit here, playing back our old conversations in my head, and I hear your voice, but it's not the same. I wish somone would talk to me. *** April 23, 1998 Dear Scully, Made a discovery today. The floor of my cell is electrified. How did I learn this, you ask. Lem brought my breakfast, and I just snapped. It was suddenly to much, and I reached through the slot that the trays slide through and grabbed Lem. I'm not sure what I intended. I didn't mean to hurt him, I don't think. But Lem just started hollering at the top of his lungs, and I heard this noise like static, and zap! In an instant I was on the floor, too stunned to breath, hardly able to think, even. They shocked me a second time, and when I screamed they stopped. I crawled into bed, and its taken me all day to get the courage to cross the floor to the chair and write this. I'm afraid, Scully. Im having dreams that I cant explain, dreams where Im walking, and suddenly fog begins to cover everything, and its harder and harder to see, until I can't see anything anymore, and I cant find my way back to where I was. Where are you, Scully? **** April 24, 1998 Dear Scully Do you remember John Barrnet? I remember killing him, but that's all I remember. Do you remember Lucy? Do you remember when that girl was kidnaped? I thought so much of Samantha then, even though I lied to you and said I didnt. I know she died, Lucy, but I don't remember how. They took my memory, Scully. Thats what they did to me. I know that now. I cant remember things very well anymore. Every day I remember less and less. That fog from my dreams isnt just a dream. Its real. Help me, Scully. If they take my mind, what will happen to me? **** April 25th 1998 Dear Scully Something is not right here. Its like...my mind does not work anymore. I wish I could explane it better, but I cant. I cant find the words. Lem brought me new cloths today, and a new razer. You see? Why should I tell you that. Why do you care. What I should tell you about is me. **** --Later-- oh god Scully. I scremed and scremed at the door and finally someone came. A man in a white coat. He just starred at me, and didnt say anything. I yelled at him "What did you do to me". He said nothing. I scremed "you took my memories and you did something to my mind". "you did somthing to me" He said nothing but I could see it in his face, Scully. They did. They did this to me. Help me, Scully. help me. **** Aprill 26, 199? Dear Scully, I remember when you were in the hospitl. I remember when you had cansur. Cannser? I dont remember how to spell it any more. You didnt talk about it much, but I know you were scarred. I know you were afraid to die. It was coming, death and you could not stop it. You must have been so happy when you were cured. I feel that way now Scully. I am lossing my mind. They took it from me and I cant stop it. I can't think anymore. **** Aprill ?? dear Scully I tryed to read what I rote on the pages befor this. I cant read some of it. the words dont make sense. I dont know where this will end Scully. will I have a mind left. will I be abel to think. Lem had to open my milk cartton today becase I didnt remember how to. I cryed when he left I cudnt help it. Im afrade Scully. oh god, Scully. I cant live like this. I cant Il screm. Ill do something. Ill oh god **** april 32 dear sculy I conted on my fingers and I think the date is rite. it must be close I wonnder where you are what are you doing I have to rememmbr to use a pereud at the end of a sentense. periud. I know I didnt spell youre name rite. Im sorry I cant remembr how to spell it *** april dear scully i cant think aneemor its to hard they taked my razer away. i hitted my head on the wall befor and i herd a funne noise and sudennle i was hurting. i dont know what hapenned. i stoped and then i stoped hurting i have to eat with my fingers sinse bekase i dont get no fork anee mor. its mesy this way but they wont brring me a fork. but they do brring me papper to rite on **** dear scully i miss you i cannt think i cant rember thinngs i wusnt allways like this i remeber that i know i used to be abel to think scully im so lonnely help me scully *** dear scully its too foggee to rite to you aneymore i cant do this i cannt scully i want im sorry i cant rite you no more i tryed as hard as i culd im sorry i **** END NOTES: This story is based on the short novel "Flowers for Algernon" by Daniel Keyes. It's the story of a retarded man named Charlie who becomes the subject of a medical experiment. Through a breakthrough in science, his intelligence increases until he is on a level with genuis. The experiment, however, is only temporary, and as Charlie's ability to think and reason regress back to his original retarded state, he remains bitterly aware of what is happening to him. I wanted to explore what the effects would be if the same thing were to happen to someone like Mulder. Finally, thanks to Elspeth, Jen, and Leyla, for both their editing and their friendship. Please send any feedback to rrusnak@avana.net ****** "Never underestimate the power of human stupidity" --Robert Heinlein