From: "aka "Jake"" Date: Wed, 26 Dec 2001 19:40:20 -0500 Subject: NEW: CASE DF101364: SELECTIVE MEMORY DRAIN (1/1) by aka "Jake" Source: xff NEW: CASE DF101364: SELECTIVE MEMORY DRAIN (1/1) by aka "Jake" Title: CASE DF101364: SELECTIVE MEMORY DRAIN Author: aka "Jake" Rating: R (Language) Classification: Fill-In-The-Blank for "Deep Throat" Spoilers: "Deep Throat" Summary: "This is not amnesia. I think it's something far more deliberate and insidious." -- Fox Mulder in "Deep Throat" Disclaimer: Do these characters really belong to Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions? If so, no copyright infringement intended. Fun, yes. Profit, no. Authors Notes: "Deep Throat" gave MT fans their first taste of Drugged!Mulder. Here is a peek at what might have been going on in our favorite G-Man's mind when the nefarious Men in Black stole his memories. CASE DF101364: SELECTIVE MEMORY DRAIN By aka "Jake" ELLENS AIR BASE SOUTHWEST IDAHO SEPTEMBER 17, 1993 7:12 PM Sunset. No wind. Mulder sits on his haunches at the edge of a field, half-hidden in the tall weeds. Crickets count down the seconds until nightfall. When the last hint of light evaporates, he finally moves. Standing takes effort after crouching for so long. His legs are stiff, his feet numb, his muscles ache with pins and needles. Checking his watch, he sets off for Yellow Base. Soon he is walking on concrete -- an airport runway. Still no sign of Emil and Ladonna's top-secret military base. Maybe the kids were wrong. A dot of light appears in the sky. Is it another UFO like the two he and Scully watched the night before? "What are they?" Scully had asked, scanning the heavens at his side. Adrenaline, wonder, vindication pumped through his veins in equal measure. "I don't know. Just keep watching. It's unbelievable." The lights danced like fireflies, defied gravity. "That's unreal. I've never seen anything like it," she said. "They've been going at it like that for almost half an hour." "Well, it can't be aircraft. Aircraft can't maneuver like that." "What else could they be?" "I don't know. Lasers maybe, being shot from the ground, reflecting up off the clouds. Oh my God." The lights soared straight upward and disappeared into the overcast. Lasers? No way. This is not a laser either. A triangular-shaped aircraft swoops low and hovers directly over Mulder's head. He gazes up, his legs locked, his stomach roiling. Several lights flicker on the craft's flat underside, bathing him in light so bright he needs to shade his eyes from its all-seeing beam. He holds his breath, squints against the glare, can't believe his fucking eyes. Is it studying him the same way he studies it? A few seconds later, the shaft of light blinks out and the ship darts away and vanishes. Headlights appear in the distance. Two vehicles approach, speeding toward him down the runway. He pivots and launches himself into a run, racing away from them, pushing his body as fast as he can. He is no match for the vans' speed and soon loses ground. There is no place to hide. No escape. One vehicle overtakes him, pulls to a stop with brakes squealing and tires spitting dust just a few yards ahead of him. The second vehicle traps him from behind. Military officers pour out of the vehicles. They tackle him, knocking him to the pavement. He fights them but they outnumber him, overwhelm him, lift him onto a stretcher. He lashes out, kicks, but they strap him down. Restrained, he is carted to one of the vehicles and shoved into the back. "Go, go!" a voice shouts. The rear doors slam shut. The vehicle lurches forward and returns the way it came. Inside the van, several sets of hands try to hold him motionless. One officer prepares a syringe. "Nooooo!" Mulder yells, seeing the needle. God damn it! God damn it! "Come on, hold him!" The needle punctures his flesh and the syringe is emptied into his bloodstream. Shit, shit, shit! He feels...he feels...lightheaded, heavy-limbed, vulnerable...foolhardy. Damn it, why had he come without backup, deserting Scully at the Beech Grove Motel? Fingers force his eyelids open. An eyedropper hovers over his pupil and squirts stinging liquid into his eye. The process is repeated with the other eye. "Oxygen," orders a voice. A mask is pressed to his face. He closes his burning eyes. "Scullee..." x-x-x-x-x-x A UFO. I saw an unidentified flying object over the runway. It looked like a cross between a Stealth bomber and Harrier jet, but was faster and more maneuverable than any known military craft. It had to have been designed using alien technology, technology recovered from Roswell. Tell me I'm crazy now, Scully. **"You believe it all, don't you, Mulder?"** Scully! Jesus, I'm glad you're here! I...they put me in restraints. See? And they gave me a shot of something. I feel...I feel weird. Unfasten these wrist straps, Scully, please. **"Mulder, did you see their eyes?"** I-- Who? The officers? **"If I were that stoned..."** **"Ho-hoo. If you were that stoned..."** Uh, if you were... Scully, are you stoned? I think I'm a little stoned. They gave me something. Did I tell you I saw a UFO? It was black and shaped like a shallow pyramid and had no insignia, no markings of any kind. It hovered about 40 feet above my head. Each side of the triangle was about 30 feet long. The bottom was flat and had a light at each angle and a circular depression in the center. Six lights were arranged in a hexagon pattern around the circle. A single spotlight in the middle shot a beam of light straight down on me. Scully, the ship looked just like the 1947 Roswell photo. And that's not all. There's an identical ship here inside Yellow Base. I *saw* it! It was half-hidden behind plastic drapes, but I'm sure it's the same design. I'm sure of it. Scully, did you hear what I said? The ship is...the ship is here...somewhere...and, uh... Jesus, my head...they gave me a shot. And they put something in my eyes. Did I tell you I saw a ship? Scully? Are you mad at me? Okay, maybe I was wrong to go off and leave you at the motel. I can see now, it was a mistake. But admit it, you weren't the least bit interested in the UFO. You didn't want to come back here to investigate the things Emil and Ladonna said they saw. Emil and Ladonna have a "spot," you know! Ha! They have a spot where they make out while UFOs cruise over their heads. How cool is that? Want to know a little secret? Shhhh, don't tell anyone back at the Bureau, but making love under a UFO is one of my top ten fantasies. You wanna know number one? My number one fantasy is-- OH! Speaking of secrets...I saw, I saw... What did I see? Wait a minute. I'll think of it. I saw...I saw a ship -- up close! I did! Cross my heart and hope to die, Scully, I did. It looked just like the one in Zoe's photo, the one she saw from the back porch at the Flying Saucer Diner. It was shaped kinda like a triangle and it had lights... Um, if you'd unfasten these restraints, I think I could draw a picture of it for you. Scully, let me take you to, you know, the place where I saw it and that'll be *our* special spot! Would you like a special spot? Scully, does the idea of doin' it in front of an alien turn you on at all? Oops. Can't believe I asked you that! Bureau'd put my nugs in a vice if they knew I axed...assed...shit, *asked* you a sexually 'splicit harassment-type question like that. Revoke my Sensitivity Training certificate. Hooo, these top secret guys gave me some good shit! I wouldn't say this if I weren't drugged, but since I am, I might as well tell you, Scully, that you look *great* in that sweater. You do. I mean it. It really accentuates your...well, it makes you look very curvy and soft and... Can I touch you? I'd like to touch you. I *would* touch you if only... Unfasten these restraints, please, Scully. I can't feel my fingerprints. HA! Did you hear that? I said fingerprints. Of course I can't feel my finger*prints*. I can't feel my footprints either. Oh, before I forget, I gotta tell you something important, some reeeally, reeeally important stuff for our report. I saw...I saw... Shit! What did I see? I thought of it just a minute ago. Didn't I? Scully? They gave me a shot. Put something in my eyes, I think... I can't... I can't remember. "Scullee...?" "He's coming around." "Remove the restraints. Carry him to the jeep if he can't make it on his own." "Where do we drop him, sir?" "Gate 12. Mossinger will be there waiting with his partner." x-x-x-x-x-x SEPTEMBER 18, 1993 7:32 AM Jostled in the passenger seat of the military jeep, Mulder stares out the windshield, sees the chain-link fence come into view. A guard opens the gate. A car waits on the other side. The jeep stops when it reaches the guard. "Get out," the driver orders. It takes Mulder a moment to realize the officer is talking to him. Legs numb, he can't seem to make his feet move. His fingers fumble with the clasp on the seatbelt. The officer unbuckles the belt for him. With effort, Mulder steps from the jeep and stands on unsteady legs. He's uncertain where he's supposed to go. "Get in the car, Mulder!" Scully shouts from beyond the gate. Her weapon is aimed at that reporter guy, Paul Something-Or- Other. Messinger? Mossinger? Mulder takes two steps, three, wanders off course. "Get in the car!" Scully's shout corrals him and he concentrates on walking a straight line. The reporter is walking, too, toward the jeep. He passes Mulder, stops, turns. "I just want to say," Mossinger's voice snags Mulder's attention. "Everything you've seen here is equal to the protection we give it. It's you who have acted inappropriately." What the hell does that mean? Mulder ignores him and continues to stagger toward Scully. He doesn't recognize her car. He doesn't recognize much of anything. Gun still in hand, Scully slides into the drivers seat. Mulder shuffles around the car, climbs into the passenger seat. Shifting into drive, Scully pulls a one-eighty that pushes the contents of Mulder's stomach into his throat. He grips the dash and blinks at the unfamiliar scenery. "You okay, Mulder?" "I think so." Didn't he have something important to tell her? "Scully, I..." She looks concerned. "What?" "How did I get here?" "You don't remember?" "No." He shakes his head. The motion causes his queasy stomach to somersault. "You took our car and drove here yesterday evening." "The car...damn, that'll cost me." "What's the last thing you remember?" His mind crawls backward, searching for a clear, certain memory. "We were in my motel room." "That was twelve hours ago." Twelve hours? "I-I told you about my contact in DC. The guy who warned me to stay away from this case." "You should have listened to him." "And turn my back on the truth, on proof of extraterrestrials? Scully, why do you think I work on the X-Files? Why do *you* work on the X-Files?" The word "spy" pokes at him. Wind lashes through the broken passenger window and Mulder wonders what happened to the glass. "Who was that Mossinger guy?" "Airbase Security." "I'm right, Scully. They're here." "Who's here?" "Aliens. The military wouldn't go to all this trouble for anything less." "Not even for national security?" "I saw something at that base. I can't...I can't remember... They took it from me, they erased it." "The 'selective memory drain' you talked about yesterday? I told you, that's impossible." "Is it?" "I'm guessing you were drugged, Mulder. Valium, Calmane, Halcion, Serax Clonpin -- pick one. Even marijuana can cause short-term memory loss." "I didn't inhale, Scully." "The point is, tranquilizers depress brain function; they cause impaired thinking, memory loss, altered perceptions. Which could easily explain why you thought you saw 'something,' but now you don't recall any of the details." He turns away, dangles his right arm out the window. The wind smacks his palm as he tries to grab a handful of air. He believes, even if she doesn't. "It's not fair, Scully. I can't remember what I saw at Yellow Base six hours ago, but I can remember all the words to 'Jive Talkin.'" "The Bee Gees?" He nods and launches into his best Barry Gibb imitation. "It's just your jive talkin', you're telling me lies, yeah, jive talkin'--" "Tell you what," Scully interrupts, offering him a sympathetic smile. "If you're feeling up to it, let's pay Lt. Colonel Budahas one more visit." "I'm up to it," he says without pause. He leans toward the open window and takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. Maybe he is high. Scully's indulgence raises his hopes and, Jesus, she looks good enough to eat in that clingy sweater. "Smell that, Scully?" "Smell what?" Confusion replaces her smile. He grins at her. "I detect a distinct paranormal bouquet in the Idaho air." x-x-x-x-x-x FBI HEADQUARTERS OFFICE OF SECTION CHIEF SCOTT BLEVINS ONE WEEK LATER Official Field Report Submitted 09/25/93 by Special Agent Dana Scully Excerpt: Lt Colonel Robert Budahas was returned to his home, although his own knowledge of his disappearance and whereabouts is vague and inconclusive. Special Agent Mulder's insistence that Budahas may have been a test pilot on a top secret project involving aircraft using recovered UFO technology, and may have suffered severe stress related trauma by flying these aircraft, is also inconclusive. Though this Agent can collaborate Agent Mulder's eyewitness account of two unidentified flying objects in the northern sky over Ellens Air Base, their exact nature or design could not be determined. Barring further authorized inquiry, this case -- filed 'DF101364' -- is closed. Section Chief Blevins finishes his review of Scully's case notes. He glances across the room at the man who chain-smokes by the window. "Did you read this?" "Of course." The smoker drags on his cigarette. "Agent Scully's report puts Mulder's investigation into proper perspective. She is exactly what we'd hoped." The smoker exhales, masking his face behind his smokescreen. "Is she?" THE END Author's notes: MulderTorture notwithstanding, this ep was chock full of nice moments, which unfortunately were seldom repeated in future eps. I think Scully smiled more in this one hour than in all the next eight years put together. Mulder grinned his head off, too. And just before he offered to buy her a drink at the DC bar (at 2:00 in the afternoon!), I thought sure he was gonna kiss her! What was I thinkin'? Feedback, good or bad, is welcome on this or any of my stories. Send comments to nejake@tds.net. You can find all my fic at http://aka "Jake".xfilesfanfiction.com/