Summary: Byers/Susanne UST.

"Wallflower"
By Allronix
Categories: A, V, Songfic, hint of JFB/SM UST
Archive/Feedback: Please do.

Summary: "They did things to me.and it was like
drowning every day,"
Susanne
told John. A breath of fresh air for the drowning is
welcome comfort
indeed.

Disclaimer: The characters and setup belong to 1013,
FOX, and Chris
Carter.
The song is from one Mr. Peter Gabriel from his fourth
self-titled
album,
otherwise known as "Security."

Wallflower


**6x6 - from wall to wall
Shutters on the windows, no light at all.**


Susanne Jacqueline Modeski didn't know where she was,
but "hell" was a
suitable word for it. She surmised it must have been a
mental ward of
some
sort, being treated for her "paranoid delusions" and
"homicidal mania."

There wasn't any windows in her room - just the dull,
padded walls of
no
discernable color. At least she wasn't wearing a
straitjacket today.
They
just decided to leave her in the dimness. They didn't
dare let her out
of
the room without a straitjacket - not since her last
attempt. She was
disappointed that they'd found her before the overdose
of medicine
claimed
her. She was really disappointed when they found the
bit of glass she
was
saving for her wrists.


**Damp on the floor you got damp on the bed
They're trying to get you crazy - get you out of your
head**


The room stank - they hadn't let her out for days. She
knew it was part
of
the process - treating her worse than an animal. She
knew she was a
mess.
The drugs, the so-called "medical treatments" that
must have been
thought up
by some Nazi bastard. The rough treatment of the
orderlies and some of
the
guards.Susanne shuddered. She survived by going numb
to it all, hoping
to
die from it.


**They feed you scraps and they feed you lies
To lower your defenses, no compromise**


It was time for her "bath." Two large women marched
in, stripped her
without
a word. They held her while a third hosed her and the
room down. After
it
was done, they dropped her to the floor, still naked
and hauled her
soiled
coveralls out of the room.

"Really, Susanne. When are you going to learn?" It was
his voice again.
She
gave up trying to think up his name.it might have been
Fisher, or
Catcher.something like that. He was pudgy, balding,
middle aged, and
carried
himself with a cocky bravado. "We're doing this to
help you."

"Rot in hell," she managed to say.

He came in the room and squatted next to her.
"Y'know, you really
aren't
that bad. Just tell us that it was all a mistake. You
really didn't
mean to
go crazy like that. You.just got a wiff of your own
concoction. Just
happens. A lab accident killed your assistants. It was
all a big
misunderstanding."

A shake of her head. Her interrogator shrugged.

"Ok. Guess, we'll have to up the dosage. You're still
suffering the
after
effects of your gas."


**Nothing you can do, they day can be long
You mind is working overtime, you body's not too
strong**


The drugs came later - with a new set of coveralls.
The pinprick in her
arm
followed by the drug's effects - dry heaves (she had
nothing in her
stomach), feeling like she was burning and freezing at
the same time.
Rough
hands were pulling her down a hall, to room with a
cot. They pushed her
in
and strapped her in - one, two, three, four, five -
completely
immobile.

The only thing she could do was wait and seek her
other
release.dreaming.


**Hold on, hold on
They put you in a box so you can't get heard
Let your spirit stay unbroken, may you not be
deterred**


A white picket fence and an apple tree in the
backyard.their backyard.
The
sunshine was bright and two little girls giggled and
played games in
the
backyard. Susanne was admiring the rose bushes
planted in her garden.

A computer and the desk it sat on was weighted down
with her research.
She
was a pharmaceutical researcher, coming up with drugs
that cured
disease,
helped people live longer and happier lives. She
stepped away to take a
break, watching the two little girls, her lovely
daughters.

The roses she had planted were growing well. It was
mid-summer, the
petals
open and the delicate scent, sweet and heady, filling
the air. It was
home,
comfort.peace.

One of them stopped her giggling and stood up.
"Daddy's home!"

They raced into the house, Susanne tarrying a bit,
putting a freshly
cut
rose in the vase by the window.

"And how do you know that?" She could hear his clear
tenor before he
walked
in, carrying the smallest girl while the older one
kept pace.

"Mommy just thinks about you lots." The older one
giggled.

"Well, you two get upstairs and wash up, all right."
He smiled fondly
after
the girls, before turning to her. He was so handsome,
his gentle
manners and
kind blue eyes so unlike her captors.

"Hello, Susanne."

She smiled with relief, knowing sadly that this dream
would end, but
she
would enjoy it for as long as it lasted. "John, I've
been thinking
about you
all day."

The dreams kept her sane.

She knew she wasn't crazy.


**Hold on, you have gambled with your own life
And you face the night alone
While the builders of the cages
They sleep with bullets, bars and stone
They do not see your road to freedom
That you build with flesh and bone**


Bitter cold, cold sweats, and horrible aches brought
her back to
reality. Of
course John wasn't there - he was God-knew-where,
along with the two
others
she had dragged into this terrible ordeal. They were
in jail, maybe.
Maybe
dead, or maybe rotting somewhere like she was, even
thought the thought
brought tears to her eyes. Amazing how she could know
him for such a
short
time and feel what she did. The rational scientist in
her laughed at
the
concept of love at first sight, but the experience was
real enough - a
lot
more real than she was allowing this to be.


**They take you out - the light burns your eyes
To the talking room - it's no surprise
Loaded questions from clean white coats
Their eyes are all as hidden as their Hippocratic Oath
They tell you - how to behave, behave as their guest
You want to resist them. You do your best
They take you to your limits, they take you beyond
For all that they are doing there's no way to
respond**



After another sleep, the worst of the drug's effects
had gone away,
leaving
her exhausted. Her bonds were undone and they drug her
down the hall,
into
the "Talking Room." A thick sheet of glass separated
her from the
nondescript man on the other side.

"Good morning, Dr. Modeski." His voice crackled from
the speaker as the
bright overhead light seared her eyes, sensitized from
too long in the
dark.

"Good morning," she muttered back.

"Do you want to tell me again about what happened
April 14, 1989?"

Not this damn question again. She kept silent.

"You took a pistol and walked into the lab. Which one
was shot first?"

"I didn't kill them."

"We can't help you until you are ready to admit the
truth."

"The truth? You don't give a damn about that," she
barked.

"Tell me why you shot you lab partners."

"I didn't kill them"

"Who killed them, Susanne?"

"I don't know - the bastards I work for. Ask them."

"You refused your medications. That's why we have to
inject you."

"I am not crazy."

"Please believe that we are trying to help you. How
long have you had
these
beliefs that the government was out to hurt you?"

"Since I found out they were going to test EH on
innocent people."

"The records state, Susanne, that the test was a
controlled one. No
civilians were involved. I think I will take the
suggestion for
increased
dosages."

"I don't need medicine."

"Then, cooperate with me, please. Why did you kill
your lab
assistants?"


**Hold on, hold on
They put you in a box so you can't get heard
Let your spirit stay unbroken, may you not be
deterred**



After the questioning, they dragged her to the room
with the cot, but
left
her there without blankets or anything she could
possibly use as a
weapon
against herself or others.

The orderly that came into her small cell was new, a
small man with a
wiry
build. He carried in his hands a stack of laundry.

"Dr. Modeski?" he asked.

She looked up, expecting him to be another
interrogator.

"Some of us don't think you're crazy, Doc," he said as
he put sheets on
her
bed, and started fixing the four-point restraints with
an air of
someone who
genuinely didn't want to do this. "It's the rest of
the world that is."

The man ducked out of her cell as quietly as he had
entered. A
newspaper
fell to the floor from his stack, fluttering to the
ground just within
reach.

She strained with effort to get her restraints loose
enough to reach
it. The
cheap newsprint felt gritty. Her eyes squinted to read
it in the dim
light
as she held it with the hand that was somewhat loose,
tilting it to
make out
the words.

THE LONE GUNMEN
FIFTH ANNIVERSARY ISSUE



**Hold on, you have gambled with your own life
And you face the night alone
While the builders of the cages
They sleep with bullets, bars and stone
They do not see your road to freedom
That you build with flesh and bone**



She finally shifted the paper to get some light on a
part of the page.
It
was an editorial.


"It's been five years since the launch of our paper,
and as I'm putting
the
paper to bed, my thoughts turn to that day in 1989
that turned us from
ordinary men into crusaders.

We've broken stories on the worst kind of secrets -
tainted food and
medicine, military experiments on civilians,
clandestine deals, and
ecological destruction. However, there was the first
story, the one
that
still has an open ending.

Her name was Dr. Susanne Modeski, an organic chemist
working for
weapons
research. She was framed, discredited, and turned into
a criminal
because
she wanted to expose the truth behind her research.
She brought us
together
- and we have been closer than brothers since.

Yet, on this night, I know she is somewhere out there.
Her employers
captured her right in front of us, and no leads have
turned up since.
This
is a fate too many have tasted - loved ones made to
disappear. Those
who
vanish are tortured or worse. I still dream of the day
she will be free
and
the endless betrayal of our elected officials and
corporate leaders
will
cease.

And wherever you may be tonight, Susanne - dead and in
a better place,
or in
a hell on Earth, I still love you, and will never
forget you. Someday,
we
will find you."

The byline made her heart skip again - J. F. Byers.


**Though you may disappear, you're not forgotten here
And I will say to you, I will do what I can do**

**You may disappear, you're not forgotten here
And I will say to you, I will do what I can do
And I will do what I can do
And I will do what I can do**


For the first time in a long time, Dr. Modeski felt
hope.

30


-------------------------------------------------------
"The media coglomerates do not want fans who make
demands, second-guess
creative decisions, and assert opinion; they want
regular viewers who
accept
what they are given and buy what they are sold." -
Henry Jenkins,
"Textual
Poachers"