Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading this story so far. This is my first time using this site so I apologize for the confusion with the transition in the last chapter and any more errors to come. I welcome feedback, constructive criticism, or anything you feeling like sharing. Please leave a comment. Follow and favorite if you like!
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A one-way mirror is the only obstacle between Agents Mulder and Scully, and the John Doe. The boy is sitting in bed, examining himself, staring at his fingers like they'll tell him everything. His body is still a mystery; the mirror on the wall gives him a scare every time he looks at it. His own skin feels off, like he doesn't belong in it, or something is so horribly different from what his subconscious is used to, though it might just be due to the numerous bruises that litter his body. Glancing around, John Doe jumps out of bed, making Mulder and Scully start. He approaches them, only seeing his own reflection. The ground beneath his bare feet gives him a better bearing. However, his eyes don't wander around the white hospital room; they don't find the bars on his window, or the exit which requires a key card to leave. He's staring at himself and drawing closer until his breath starts to fog the mirror. John Doe's fingers brush numbly against his lips and work their way up his face. Pulling at his larger than average ears, fingering his pointed jaw, plugging and unplugging his thin nose; the boy takes in his features up close for the first time, at least that he can remember.
Mulder isn't watching. He's standing on the other side of the room, holding his phone a good inch away from his ear. The FBI's been trying to reassign him to a different case ever since they arrived in Colorado. He hangs up on an angry Assistant Director Skinner.
"They won't get off my case; keep trying to make us investigate some presumed-dead threat." He sighs and walks next to Scully's side, peering at the boy's self-assessment of his features. "What do you think of him?" Mulder whispers to Scully on the other side. Both of them are observing in almost sad fascination.
"He really doesn't recognize himself." She whispers. "His face is so clouded." Mulder glances at his partner; it's not every day her voice takes on such a sentimental tone. Though through the years, he's noticed she does have a soft spot for children.
"Hopefully, he'll get his memories back soon." She nods, still staring at the John Doe as he identifies his own characteristics. After a moment of silence, Mulder digs out his key card. "Shall we go in?" He asks; her gaze lingers on the boy a moment longer, then turns back to her partner.
"Yes." They cross over to the door and with a swipe of the card, it opens. John Doe turns toward them and starts backing away immediately. It's the man again! He thinks, but soon realizes otherwise. He still slides into the corner though.
"It's okay." Scully comes out from behind Mulder, raising her hands to show she means no harm. "I'm Agent Scully from the FBI, this is my partner Agent Mulder." The man nods with a "trying to look friendly" smile.
"FBI?" John Doe repeats, his stomach flipping. "What do you guys want?"
"We want to find the man who tried to kill you, and maybe even find out where you came from." Mulder replies but the boy narrows his eyes. The letters FBI made his belly do a barrel roll; his gut's been pretty silent up to this point. Something makes him distrust the two.
"I don't trust you. Don't you guys have files on everyone? Aren't I in there?" Mulder and Scully glance at each other. Apparently his memory wipe wasn't enough to rid him of big government prejudice.
"No." Scully replies. "You arn't, which is what makes you such a big mystery." The boy's shoulders sag. Not even the FBI knows anything about him.
"This isn't just amnesia, is it?" Mulder's eyes get a glint of excitement at this, but Scully interrupts before he can start.
"We don't know, but we want to help you through this. With our help, you hopefully won't be a John Doe forever." The boy's gaze flickers between the two, still pressing his back into the wall. His instincts and his yearning battle, either distrust them and be safe, or believe them and find his true identity. "John." The boy flinches. Agent Scully's drawing closer. "Can I call you John?" The distance between them shrinks until she's offering to shake his hand. "At least until we learn your real name." Mulder just watches with a grin as his partner works her magic. Slowly, the boy's hand emerges and they shake.
"Yeah, John sounds like a good name." He whispers. Scully smiles at him, and he returns it with a timid grin. I want to trust them. He thinks. If I don't, I may never learn the truth.
The Agents eventually get him sat down on the bed, and the interview finally begins.
"So John," Mulder pulls out his note pad. "Do you mind telling us about the night the man tried to kill you?" The boy unconsciously tugs at his ears.
"Sure." He starts. "My first memory is of waking up in that house. The night was cold and the place had no heater, so for, like, the first five minutes after I woke up, I didn't open my eyes or anything. I just lay there shivering. My lack of, well, identity didn't even hit me. Eventually I got up and walked around, at first in a trance, then I realized I had no idea where or who I was. I started freaking out then. It was so dark and cold." He shivers at the memory. "I ran around the entire house, looking for an exit or someone else. The place gave me the creeps." Mulder chuckles at the expression. "I started to crawl when I got too scared. The house made all of these creaking noises." John's cheeks flush at admitting it. "Then I saw the man. He was standing outside the window just staring at me. I ran, of course, the opposite direction. But I knew he was after me. Then I came to the next room and he was standing behind that window. He was behind the window in the next room, and the next, but the entire time I knew he was in the house chasing me. I hid in a closet, stayed in there for about five minutes. Then when I came out, his hands reached out of the darkness and started strangling me. It was too dark to see. I'm just glad the neighbors came over. I kind of passed out so I didn't see the man leave."
Everything goes quiet except for the scratching of Mulder's pen as he jots down everything.
"Do you think the man has something to do with my memory loss?" Johns asks
"Maybe." Mulder's brow is furrowed in concentration. Mind boggling theories dash through his head, flaunting all of the unexplained holes they all have. "There has to be an explanation."
x SCENE CHANGE x
John sits on the bed with his legs stretched out in from of him. The barred window pours moonlight onto his feet. For the past hour, he's been trying to make his middle toe wiggle without its companions moving as well. Needless to say, he has no desire to sleep. If I sleep, he thinks. I may forget everything. Though he's napped since the incident two nights prior, the premonition hasn't left him.
"John Doe, Gone low, wrong flow, pawn show, swan woe." He mutters to keep himself awake, yawning. "Yawn no, fawn though, on low."
"I'm sorry, but you have to go." The voice is one John eerily remembers. He whips his head around, looking for the source of the words. Except he's met by the same cold hands as before, and this time, John's screams turn on every alarm in the building.