From: Michele Connole Date: Thu, 8 Jun 2000 00:05:01 -0700 (PDT) Subject: xfc: new: White Rabbit (1 of 1) Source: xfc Title: White Rabbit Author: MaidenJedi Rating: PG13 for language Archiving: duh, of course. just let me know, and keep my name attached. Keywords: Mulderangst, Scullyangst, post-ep Website: my stuff is all available at http://www.geocities.com/texgoddess Category: M/A, S/A, MPOV, V Summary: If this is reality, I don't ever want to have nightmares. Spoilers: Requiem, of course. Author's Notes: I figure EVERYBODY is writing Scully-fic for Requiem, completely leaving Mulder in the cold! So, I thought I would dwell into the depths of Mulder's mind following his abduction. There is not much in the way of plot in this fic, but there is plenty of angst (don't you just love angst!). Here's the thing though; I don't think Mulder was fully aware of what he was doing as he stepped into the light. I think he was lured in, and so were the others. So, I am taking a bit of poetic license here and venturing with that theory. ^^ marks a dream sequence, BTW. I added the Scully/Skinner scene when I decided to explain the cross. Disclaimer: Not mine! The characters ahead are the property of 1013, Chris Carter and Fox. I'm just borrowing them, I swear, and I promise I won't hurt them. Thank you to Walt Disney and Company for the songs and dialogue in "Alice in Wonderland" and to Lewis Carroll, who really owns the characters and allusions. ~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~ The worst part of this place is that I don't know where it is. I have no idea how I got here. I don't have a clue why I am wearing nothing. But the kicker is, I still have no idea who, exactly, I am. Wherever this is, I must have been here for a long time. I have no recollection of anything else...at least, I think I don't. I have no real sense of time passing, no sense of day or night. I sleep when I am tired, I eat when they give me food. But who "they" are is still debatable, and in fact I don't know how to deduce the information. I touch my face often, to see if the stubble that grows there has, in fact, grown any, because that would prove that this is more than a sick nightmare, more than a hallucination. But the stubble, which isn't really more than a shadow, hasn't grown for whatever length of time I've been here. I touch it now, thinking again that this time it will have grown, that I have woken up, that I'm not crazy. It remains unchanged. I observe this and note it apathetically. For to care much about it would surely mean I would lose what mind I have left. I really only check out of habit. Habits and nightmares. I am trapped in Wonderland, perhaps, only there is no vial of liquid proclaiming "Drink Me", promptly returning me to a saner state of mind. I do have one clue, though. One link to whatever past I might have forgotten in this length of time. No matter how many times "they" take me into other rooms, and poke and prod at me, they leave this talisman alone, as though they are a new breed of vampire and cannot touch such things. This tiny cross I wear is my link to something, my ticket to reality if some day reality presents itself. When my hand trembles down from the false reality of my whiskered jaw, it catches on this tiny gold cross, too feminine to be mine, surely. Upon that catch, my mind will throw images at me that I cannot understand but that are somehow reassuring, comfortable. Red. I see a flash of red, I am sure its hair but I never get to see much. A statue of Buddha, small enough to be easily concealed. A vial of liquid stamped with a name. And finally a small child, I think its a girl, coloring a picture that I can't see. And then the vision is gone, as quickly as it came, I am left to my wonderings and my confusion. Sometimes, I think I am asleep, because I could swear I dream. In them, everything becomes clear, and I have memories of what took place, how I got here. It always ends in the same nonsensical gibberish, a chant in my head, really. "I'm late, I'm late...for a very important date..." I see a white rabbit and I am compelled to follow it. And then there is a bright white light, and I recognize this woman, but I can't recall her name. I look for the rabbit in the light, only knowing he came this way, not knowing where he is. When I turn around, (perhaps to leave, more likely searching for the rabbit), there is a man. Or rather, what seems to be a man. I sense that I have met him before and that he is menacing, but how I know that eludes me. Of course, this is always the point where I become conscious again, the dream ends and I am in this place, this cold and sterile place. My hand aches to touch the cross. Why is it so important? Why won't they touch it? Lord knows they've touched everything else, been snooping in parts of me I may never fully know about. I am a vulnerable subject of some kind, and my mind promises me that the memory of what kind is there, that I do know who the proper owner of this cross is. I let my hand find it. I need all the comfort I can get. After all, it does offer that if nothing else, surely? This wave of peace overcomes me when I linger there, smudging the gold with my fingertips. So I still linger, trying to make the feeling last, trying to recognize the images that come to mind, trying to touch the memories I know I must have. And this time, oh this time, I catch a glimpse of blue eyes. Wonderland, though, is not a place where only good things can happen to you. Even Alice nearly lost her head. Even the oysters were finally devoured by the Walrus. In walks the Walrus, hungry and not bothering to hide it any longer. The oyster cowers in sudden fear, all for nought, for little if anything can stop a hungry Walrus. And so I give up my fantasy to the oblivion I fear the most. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Time has passed. This time I am more than sure of it, despite the lack of change in every discernible way. Still, I have no way to tell where the time has gone, where I was or what might have happened. For all I know, maybe I was really asleep this time. But like I said, no change that I can tell. Except... I am wearing shorts of some kind, I think they're boxers (is that the word? Do I know what I'm thinking or is this another one of those insane gibberish endings?). And.... I know my name. Mulder. Ok, repeat it out loud, does it sound right? "Mulder." Louder. Is that your name or another illusion? "MULDER!" I am Mulder. Fox Mulder. Out loud one more time.... "Fox Mulder." And the tears start to flow. I can't help them anymore than I can help being ecstatic over this. Is it a dream? I pinch myself, hard. It seems that Alice has awoken to another surprise. I am in the world of the living and I will live to see the end of my torment. Or so I'll tell myself over and over again, until time resurfaces and I know where I am. I run my hand to my jaw. Still no growth, and thank the powers that be for the cross. Its still there, it still evokes the images (redhairbuddhavialofliquidanameandalittle girlthistimeithinkiseeblueeyes) and the sense of peace. I lay my head down on my arms, stretched out on the cool white floor, more content than I've ever been (I think), and proceed to let the dreams come. The dreams....the dreams..... ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ^^ the white rabbit is in a field on the edge of a forest, still chanting that he's late. and when i catch up to him finally, i find the oddest thing and i've lost him. damn rabbit. a baby. in the garden i see her (how i know its a her i'll never know), giggling amongst the magnolias, the lilies, the forget-me-nots....and somehow i am the size of these flowers. smaller even. 'who are you?' the lilies ask me. 'i am the baby's father, come to take her home.' am i? this is a dream, it has to be a dream.... 'oh no! away with you away with you now!' the lilies hit me over the head. the forget-me-nots taunt and chase me into a plant i don't know, then..... it is a caterpillar. 'whooooo arrrrrrre ah-yoooooou?' 'please help me. i'm lost and the flowers...the flowers are trying to kill me.' 'ah the flowers...they arrrrrre quite evil. but whoooo arrrrre yoooooou?' 'please...i...i need help....i'm lost' 'whoooooo arrrrrre yooooooou?!' 'm..mu..mulder.' 'a strange name.' 'help me.' 'what doooo yoooooou need?' 'i...i want to be big again' 'very well. take a bite of this mushroom.' and i am full size. the baby is still giggling, and i think again how could i be her father? fox mulder is not a daddy. the flowers screech in universal terror as i step on them in an effort to reach my (?) child. as i bend down, her giggling turns to soft cries, and i realize i frighten her. poor child, with bright red down on her soft head and sparkling blue eyes. she does not know me, this child, yet she trusts me with her not-even-8-month life. i can see it in her eyes. the cries stop. "mulder?" ^^ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I remember the dream in startling clarity. Its been hours since I awoke, and I have even more good news to keep me happy. I reach up to my jaw and smile. Growth. A little, but its there. I have heard nothing from "them" yet, and in a small way this worries me. In this place, I know instinctively that I am alone in my terror, that I may never escape, that I may never regain all my memories. All I have are four white walls and my captors...the Walrus, as it were. The dream, though, now that worries me more immediately than my instincts. I have never dreamed of a child like that. And I know the surroundings. I was trapped in Wonderland, the Wonderland from my childhood. Disney's Wonderland. So I am frightened. Was that dream a premonition? A plant in my subconscious? Or was it...just a dream? Wonderland. A premonition. Or a memory. Do I have a child? Thinking hard, I doubt it. I don't remember a wife or even jerking off into a cup at a sperm bank. So what was this dream? A name! Into my sketchy thought process a name is presented. Scully. This time, the tears are real, sad and angry. Scully. She doesn't know I'm alive, does she? Of course not. She must be searching for me, she must be living in torment. God knows I was once, for her. The tears dry after what seems like forever. Perhaps it was forever. I try not to think about it. I start playing tic-tac-toe in my head. I keep losing, and it makes me laugh. Defeated, I reach up to my jaw, and I smile wide. Time does exist, and I am not dreaming. The smile fades quickly though. The necklace. Her necklace. Oh God. I look around frantically, panic stricken. Did it fall off? But the room is not large, and it is pure white. No gold marring its starkness. I am lost, and it is all the fault of a stupid white rabbit. The door....the tiny window.... "YOU BASTARDS! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! YOU SONS OF BITCHES! LET ME OUT OF HERE! GIVE ME THE CROSS! GIVE ME SCULLY!" Hours later it seems, the Walrus comes. Welcome to hell. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "Agent Scully?" Walter Skinner walked into the basement office, so obviously devoid of the life that had once infused it. Dana Scully (the miraculously pregnant Dana Scully, Skinner thinks) sits in a chair facing the desk. Its been three months since her partner, Fox Mulder, disappeared, and still she had not taken to sitting in his chair. She was staring at yet another printout of recent UFO sitings, searching for clues to Mulder's whereabouts. Her words still haunted the AD. "I have to find him." The grim determination with which she had spoken was so eeriely Mulder that Skinner had been unsure of who was speaking to. And now what he had to say to her would undoubtedly break that spirit, so fragile was she. But then again, both Skinner and Mulder had often underestimated the enigmatic agent. Scully broke his reverie. "Sir?" She turned around in her chair, fully expecting him to have an assignment in his hand or perhaps information on the new partner she was going to be getting soon. What she saw there though knocked the breath out of her, causing the world to spin violently. God has been known to perform miracles, to give signs. Anyone looking for answers just needs to pray long and hard, and the answer will come. But what happens when you run out of chances, when God decides that you've had too many miracles, and He finally decides to give you the one answer you never wanted? The cross dangled from Skinner's fingers as he held it out to Scully. As she took it from him, she felt how cold the cross itself was, how familiar against her skin. Skinner spoke softly. "This was on my desk this morning." Scully nodded, not taking her eyes off the cross. She swallowed hard as the images overcame her. A white room. Plaid boxer shorts. A Walrus, chasing an oyster. And a white rabbit, dressed in a waistcoat and carrying a pocket watch. She looked up at Skinner. "Was this all?" Her voice was hard, cold, and inquistive. It was the voice of an angry Fox Mulder, when Skinner would have to tell him the X-Files were closed, that Agent Scully had been shot, that he was unable to help them this time. Skinner averted his eyes, not wanting to see the fear not carefully concealed in Scully's eyes, not wanting to know what she was feeling, because he was positive he felt the same things. He knew what she was thinking, because she had taken Mulder's place in this office, if not physically, then most certainly in spirit. Or perhaps Mulder's spirit had merely infused her. Either way, Skinner was scared she would lash out at the rest of his news. "No. There was...a note." He paused, and only at her insistant grasp of his hand did he continue. "It said...." "It said?" Scully's voice was still not completely hers. Skinner was afraid. "It said, 'The Walrus ate all the oysters...or did he? A Very Happy Un-Birthday to you, Agent Scully'. It was written on the back of a...a playing card. The queen of hearts." He expected a barage of questions, he expected her to blow up at him, at the note, at its cryptic message. Instead, she became Scully again, just Scully. Even more than that, she became Dana. Vulnerable, hurt, and pregnant. Scully sat down, not hearing what else Skinner had to say. The two of them were alone in the room, but it seemed to Scully that there was indeed a third, telling her not to give up hope, that the answers were still there. The truth is out there. And it seems to Scully that there is a rabbit, laughing at her and taunting her to follow him. "I'll find you Mulder. I swear to God I will." ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ fin! Too weird for you? Let me know what you think. All feedback can be sent to Maidenjedi at texgoddess@yahoo.com ===== "Ginger had it easy. She had only had to do everything that Fred did, but backwards and in heels."--- anonymous How do you know you're leading a sad life? When a nymphomaniac says "Lets just be friends." http://www.geocities.com/texgoddess (the kiosk) Aries: (March 21--April 19) You will lose all credibility when it is revealed that, contrary to your claims, your life is not based on a true story. (from "The Onion")