Title: D'imaginer
Author: Susan
E-mail: filesfan34@yahoo.com
Classification: a story of randomness
Keyword: angst
Archive: No archive without permission.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. I wish they did.

Summary: It's funny how my mind works.

Author's notes: Let me start by saying that this story is not my usual fare. It is dark and strange and sad, and it may not make sense to anyone but me, but that's okay because that's the beauty of writing.:) What tugs at one person's emotions may not have the same affect on another person. That being said, if my words make you think, make you feel, make you consider something new, I'd very much like to know that...


When I open my eyes, I immediately see that I'm naked.

I'm not just without my clothes, but my thoughts are exposed as well.

I don't like it here, and They know I don't, which is probably why my wrists are tied behind my back.

The last thing I remember was being out in the woods, walking the trails, and then there was a light.

It wasn't the kind of light you'd expect to see coming from a UFO, but rather a soft gray light, its rays floating down through the trees like a misty rain.

I remember looking up to see where the light was coming from, and then nothing.

Now here I am, tied to a chair, buck-naked.

Why am I here? What do They want with me?

But more importantly, where the hell are my clothes?

It's funny how my mind works.

Sometimes it's scattered in fifty different directions, other times it's so focused on one thing that it frightens me.

And yet I guess it's what makes me unique.

At least that's what they've said about me for the past twelve years.

"Your son is such a unique young man."

"He's always so intense."

"He's very passionate about everything he does."

"Your son's quite intelligent, but I think he spends too much time alone..."

Of course, I spend a lot of time alone.

Who wants to spend time with someone whose got parents like mine?

They've kept me sitting in this chair for what I can best estimate is about two hours time, and frankly, I'm starting to get pissed.

I mean, it's bad enough that I'm naked, but They also stuck me in a wooden chair.

That's not exactly the best thing for a guy with a hemorrhoidal condition.

I chuckle at the absurdity of my thoughts and the fact that I actually heard my dad say the same thing once.

You know, sometimes I just don't understand my parents.

Why all the secrets? Why all the conversations behind closed doors?

They didn't think I could hear them talking in their bedroom late at night, that I could hear their fearful whispers, their frenzied lovemaking, their heated arguments, all the times they cried together.

But I could.

I could hear it all. I could feel it all.

Just as I feel their fear now.

I didn't notice it before, but this room They've got me in has no doors.

How the hell did They get me in here then?

Oops, sorry about that, Mom. I know you don't like it when I swear.

So, how did They get me in this room anyway?

There aren't any windows in here either, and from what I can tell, I don't see any unusual spots on the floor where there might be the entrance to some sort of hidden passageway.

If Mom were here she'd say that it's scientifically impossible to *beam* someone into a room and that there HAS to be a way in or out somewhere, whereas Dad would argue that anything is possible, including the fact that They may have simply *zapped* me here.

But neither one of them is here right now, and I'm more afraid than I've ever been.

They told me that they used to be FBI agents and that their work was dangerous. They told me that I had to be careful and that I always had to be aware of my surroundings.

They told me to trust no one.

And so I didn't.

Consequently I spend a lot of time with them when I should be spending time with kids my own age.

As much as I love my family, sometimes I feel so lonely my heart actually hurts.

The human brain is gross in appearance, yet quite complex in nature.

It controls everything about me...what I feel, what I think, what I do, who I am...

Right now it's telling me not to be scared, that my parents will find me, and that this will all be over soon.

I hope my brain's right.

I knew I shouldn't have gone out to the woods. Mom and Dad told me not to, and yet I did anyway.

If they find me, I am going to be so grounded once they take me home...I'm thinking at least a month.

Wait a minute.

What if they can't find me? What if I'm stuck here in this room forever?

What if I'm meant to die here?

"William, can you hear me?"

I can hear you, Mom.

"Come on, open your eyes."

I'm trying, Dad, but They won't let me.

"He feels so cold, Mulder."

Of course, I'm cold. I'm naked. Can't you see that?

"I know, and I'm not sure why that is, but look, he's got plenty of blankets covering him."

Blankets? What blankets? Can't you see me, Dad? Can't you see that I'm afraid and I need help?

"I don't know how to help him, Mulder...I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do...my own son, and I don't know how to save him."

Don't cry, Mom. Please don't cry. I hate it when you cry, and so does Dad.

"Dr. Slaten is doing everything he can."

"But he's been in a coma for two days now, Mulder. What he's doing is not enough."

I hear the echo of their footsteps.

I'd know the sound of their feet anywhere.

His steps, long and smooth. Hers, small and fast, but in tandem with his.

Always in tandem.



Where are you going?

You're not just going to leave me here, are you?

They told me you never really wanted me and that you were glad I was gone, but I didn't believe Them.

You don't really want to get rid of me, do you?

Do you?

"Look Scully, his eyelids are moving."

"Oh my God...Mulder..."

"I'll go get the doctor."

"No, stay here. I don't want him to wake up and not see you here."

"William, it's me...Look, I know it hurts and that you're scared right now, but it's okay. *You're* okay. Dad and I are right here."

You're here?

"Yeah, and we're not going anywhere, but you've got to help us out here, and show us you're okay. Can you do that?"

You mean you're not going to leave me with Them?

"Mulder, look...his fingers..."

"That's it, buddy. I knew you could do it. Now just open your eyes."

You really want me back?

I knew They were wrong about you. I knew it.

When I open my eyes, I immediately see that I'm no longer naked and that I'm in a hospital.

Mom is standing next to my bed crying, and Dad is tightly squeezing her hand the same way he always does when I...

"How long this time?" I rasp, interrupting my own thoughts.

"Only five days, but it's been two days since you were brought here," Mom quietly replies, wiping the moisture from her cheeks.

Being careful not to disturb my IV, Dad bends over and gently touches my forearm, then asks, "What do you remember?"

I close my eyes and desperately try to remember something, anything, but all I can do is answer him the same way I do every time.

"That I wanted to come home."


*D'imaginer: a French expression meaning "to imagine"

If you feel so inclined...

possibilities http://possibilities.bravehost.com/

Originally posted October 2002.


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