Paranoia
By Flic City
Prologue
Paul Metcalfe stared at
himself in the mirror. ‘Still no signs of what’s happened to me,’ he thought.
His reflection winced, blue eyes skipping nervously over the unblemished skin.
‘So why can I feel every wound?’
Crawling
in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
He
ran his fingers over his chest. ‘Gunshots, broken ribs… I’ve been punched,
shot, crushed, drowned – or have I? Am I starting to forget what’s been done to
me?’ He stared at himself anxiously, hoping to see the truth reflected back –
but the eyes that met his were unsure, and scared.
He
swore, and raised his fist to punch the mirror. Only the realisation of how
badly it would worry his friends kept him from shattering the glass.
‘I
have to be strong,’ he told himself, turning away from the perfect body in the
mirror. ‘They’ve given me so much more than I ever expected – I have to prove
that I deserve it.'
Fear
is how I fall
Confusing what is real
“Hey,
Paul, something wrong?” asked Captain Blue, looking concerned.
“Huh?”
Captain Scarlet looked at his field partner, startled. “Wrong? No, nothing.” He
smiled reassuringly, but his eyes seemed to be distant.
“You
sure?” insisted the American. “Because you haven’t been acting yourself,
lately. We’re starting to get a little worried for you.”
Scarlet
looked directly at him – then turned his eyes aside, hiding the shadows that
he’d begun to notice in them. “I have been feeling a little unsettled, lately,”
he admitted carefully. “But it’s nothing serious, honestly.”
Blue
didn’t look convinced. “Have you been to see Dr. Fawn?” he asked.
Scarlet
pulled a face at the suggestion. “No, thank you!” he retorted. “I see more than
enough of him already!”
Blue
grinned for a moment, but his eyes were serious as he told his friend, “I know,
but you should really go see him if you’re having problems.”
Scarlet
looked away. “I’ll think about it,” he sighed.
“Paul
–” Blue started.
“I
said, I’ll think about it!” Scarlet exploded, turning on him furiously before
storming away. Blue stared after his partner in disbelief. “What happened to
the legendary Metcalfe self-control?” he asked under his breath.
There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming/confusing
Paul
Metcalfe glared at the mirror in his room. He’d had a full-length mirror
installed, which spent most of its time underneath a heavy covering. His
friends wondered about that, but it was simple enough – he couldn’t stand the
proof that he was a Mysteron. Every time he was free from any obligations, he
would strip off his clothes and stand before the mirror, searching desperately
for a scar, or even a sunburn – any sign that he was nothing more than an
ordinary human being. And when the mocking perfection of his new body grew too
much to bear, he covered the mirror again, and swore to himself that he
wouldn’t look again.
Recently,
though, the search had been more desperate. He hadn’t been searching his body –
just his face. Searching for some sign of the influences he’d started feeling.
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
He
hadn’t noticed when exactly it started. Suddenly, he’d be on the flight deck
with no memory of how he got there, or wandering towards the Amber Room without
knowing why. He’d laughed at himself the first few times.
He’d
stopped laughing when he found himself struggling not to smash open a window.
There was no other way of opening them; Cloudbase was 40,000 feet above the
ground, and the difference in air pressure meant that they had to be sealed
shut. He knew how dangerous breaking one of them would be, and yet – he was
fighting a desperate urge to get to some fresh air. The struggle gave him a
headache – for a second. Then it was gone, along with the crawling need that he
had been fighting.
It
was taking more and more concentration for him not to do something dangerous,
or stupid, or both. The urge was less around his friends, but he was starting
to worry them with his distraction.
Controlling/I can't seem
To find myself again
Privately,
he was sure that it was the Mysterons. They had finally found a way into his
mind, and they were going to use it.
He
had thought he was free of their influence, but he wasn’t sure any more. He
stared into the mirror, and whispered, “Paul? Paul Metcalfe?” Anguished blue
eyes looked back at him, but he could not tell whether they belonged to Paul
Metcalfe or the Mysteron impostor, Captain Scarlet. “Paul? Where am I?”
The
mirror was silent.
My walls are closing in
(without a sense of confidence and I’m convinced that there's just too much
pressure to take)
His friends had noticed that
something was wrong. They started waiting for him, standing watch. At first, he
was touched by their concern, but recently it felt restrictive, as though he
was trapped. They couldn’t do anything to help him. Why did they keep trying?
I've felt this way before
So insecure
“Hey,
Paul!” Magenta called. “Paul! PAUL!”
“What?”
asked Captain Scarlet, startled into looking up from his book.
“What
are you reading?” asked Magenta.
Scarlet
stared at him blankly. “You yelled at me just to ask me that?”
“Ha
ha, Paul,” said Magenta sarcastically, hiding a shudder at the too-even gaze. “No,
but I wondered what was so enthralling. I was going to ask whether you’re all
right. We’re all your friends, and we’re worried about you. I haven’t seen you
act like this since you found out what happened to you.” ‘And I hope I never
see that again,’ he thought. ‘I’m not sure I could stand seeing you break down
like that twice.’
The
official story was that when Paul Metcalfe was told what had happened to him,
he immediately volunteered for duty. In reality, the young man had had a
nervous breakdown as he tried to understand what had happened to him. The
officers tried to help him, but they couldn’t understand. Things came to a head
when Adam found him cutting his wrists with a razor. “Why does it close?” he’d
screamed. “Why can’t I even bleed?” Adam stared at the red-brown stains on
Paul’s clothing, and froze in shock – then called for Dr. Fawn.
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
‘I
remember that time,’ thought Scarlet in surprise. ‘I was terrified of my new
body.’ He stared at his wrist, tracing a line on it where he thought the blade
had cut. There was no sign, of course. Mysteronised bodies don’t scar. But the
pain still echoes, and there was a line of it down each of his wrists.
Scarlet
looked up to say something to Magenta, but stopped. The room was empty. He
picked up his book slowly, and walked out. ‘Was Magenta even here?’
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
The
mirror was laughing at him again. He could hear it, underneath the dust-sheet.
‘It isn’t real,’ he told himself firmly. But the sound grew, until he ripped
away the cover to reveal – nothing. He stared into the glass. ‘Where am I?’ he
screamed inside his head, but no sound came.
He
flung himself onto his bed, blocking out the reflection of the empty room.
Someone
knocked on the door. “Paul? You coming?”
He
raised his head.
His
reflection stared back at him, pale and scared.
Discomfort,
endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting/reacting
Scarlet
absently traced the burns he’d received to his palms so long ago. He sat
perfectly still, his fingers running over the flesh again and again.
“Paul?”
Dr. Fawn’s voice broke his reverie. “Why are you here?”
Scarlet
took a deep breath. “U-unfit for duty, sir,” he said. Despite his best intentions,
his voice trembled on the words.
“Good
God! Colonel White didn’t say –”
“Colonel
White doesn’t know about it,” Scarlet interrupted him. “I’m reporting myself
unfit for duty before he finds out.”
Dr.
Fawn looked at him. “I see,” he said doubtfully. “Well, we should start the
tests.”
Scarlet’s
hands clenched. “Yes, doctor,” he said, staring at the wall.
His
hands screamed with the agony of burning.
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
Scarlet
stared at the wall. The reflective wall. The mirror wall.
“How
long has he been like this?” asked Blue quietly, shocked by the emptiness in
his friend’s gaze.
“Since
I put him in there.” Fawn was just as shocked and appalled. “He hasn’t said
anything, hasn’t done anything… it’s almost like
he isn’t there any more.”
Scarlet’s
reflection stared at him. From the mirror.
‘Which
of us is real?’ Scarlet asked it silently.
What do you mean?
‘Which
of us is Paul Metcalfe?’
Which of us bleeds?
Scarlet
stood up. Before anyone realised what he was doing, he slammed his fists
against the mirror, over and over again.
Which of us bleeds?
“Neither
of us,” he grunted. “Neither of us…”
It's haunting how I can't seem...
“My
God,” breathed Colonel White as he saw the destruction in the quarantine room. “Why
would Scarlet do this?”
Fawn
shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer yet,” he said. “And I don’t
think either of us will like it when I do.”
White
shot him a questioning look. “Why not?”
“As
far as I can make out, he was attacking the mirror. Or, more accurately, his
reflection in it.” Fawn nodded as a grim comprehension began to dawn on the
Colonel’s face. “It’s one step away from actual self-harm. And we both know
that he’s done that before…”
“Will
he recover?” asked the Colonel.
“I
just… don’t know,” said Fawn bleakly. “I don’t know.”
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
Scarlet
stared at the wall. ‘Where am I?’ he thought. ‘Am I in an alien clone? Or am I
scattered over the mountains with my ashes?’ He began to rub his hands over his
arms violently. ‘Am I me, or just a copy of myself? And if I am a copy, what does the real me think of it?’
Something
knocked on the door. He looked over at it – as it was opened by Captain Black.
“You are to follow the Mysteron
instructions,” he
intoned, his pale skin ghastly in the fluorescent lights.
“NO!”
Scarlet shook his head violently, refusing to believe the image in front of
him.
“Then you will pay
for your disobedience,” the Mysteron figurehead droned. He stepped out of the
door. “He
is useless. Crush him.” The walls began to move with a grinding sound Scarlet had
never heard before.
Scarlet
screamed, throwing his hands up to protect himself.
(without a sense of confidence and I’m convinced that there's just too much
pressure to take)
“Is
he as bad as he was before?” everyone asked Blue, crowding around him.
“Worse.”
Blue sat down heavily, and rested his head in his hands. “Much worse.”
“Is
that even possible?” asked Green. Ochre looked at him, ready to snap that he
shouldn’t make stupid jokes; then he saw the expression on the young man’s
face, and realised that his question had been completely serious. ‘Of course,’
he remembered belatedly, ‘Seymour is the one who kept watch when Paul was in
the isolation room.’ No one knew what Paul had said, but Seymour had been pale
and quiet around him for several weeks.
‘Why does everyone call
me Paul Metcalfe? He’s dead! He died, and I can’t!’ The voice echoed in Seymour’s mind. ‘Why can’t I die? I want to, I’ve tried to, but
I always wake up again!’
I've felt this way before
So insecure
“It
wasn’t real.” The comforting voice made Scarlet lower his arms. Rhapsody smiled
at him understandingly. “It was just one of your fears. Captain Black isn’t on
Cloudbase.”
“Rhapsody?”
breathed Scarlet.
“You shouldn’t
be here, you know. You’re supposed to be out fighting the Mysterons,” Rhapsody
told him.
Scarlet
shivered. “I-I don’t want to…” he started, but his attention wandered to the
door. Wasn’t that a green glow coming from it?
“You
didn’t want to what, Paul?” asked Rhapsody, leaning forwards, concerned.
Scarlet met her eyes, and reached out to her. She shook her head slightly, her
eyes steady on his. “What didn’t you want to do?”
“I
didn’t want to hurt my friends,” Scarlet answered her reluctantly. “I couldn’t
risk them! I couldn’t risk you! This is the safest place
for me,” he finished.
“But
I can’t come see you,” pouted Rhapsody.
Scarlet
frowned, bewildered. “You are here,” he pointed out.
“No,
I’m not. I’m no more real than Black,” Rhapsody told him, and to prove her
point, she vanished.
Scarlet
stared at the wall.
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
The
Colonel stared at Dr. Fawn in disbelief. “You’re sure of this?” he asked.
“Captain Scarlet can still feel every injury he’s ever had?”
Fawn
nodded silently. Adam swallowed, trying to imagine the amount of pain his
friend must be in. He was ashamed to find that he was glad his imagination
wasn’t up to the task. “How?” he managed.
“I
wish to God I knew,” said Fawn tiredly. “Physically, he’s in perfect health.
Mentally – every injury he ever had is coming back to haunt him. I can’t
imagine how much stress he’s under,” he said bluntly.
Blue
and the Colonel exchanged concerned glances.
“So
there’s nothing we can do?” asked Blue desperately.
Fawn
shook his head. “Nothing,” he responded. “BUT – he might pull through this.
He’s a strong person in his own right, and that should help.”
“So
it’s all up to him,” said the Colonel with a particular horror in his voice.
The horror of someone who is utterly helpless, when a friend is in desperate
need.
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Scarlet
shivered. ‘I have to fight the Mysterons… I don’t want to risk my friends… I
have to fight the Mysterons… I don’t want to risk my friends…’
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing, Confusing what is real
The
once-brave Spectrum captain huddled against the wall, trapped in his mind and
in his alien body.
There’s something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming/confusing what is real
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling/confusing what is real....
I do not own Gerry Anderson’s TV show ‘Captain Scarlet’, or any of the characters thereof. The song used in this is ‘Crawling’ by Linkin Park, which I also do not own. I do not have any idea where I am going with this story; I just wanted to try a songfic, and, well… you see the result before you.
BACK TO “FAN FICTION ARCHIVES” PAGE
Any comments? Send an E-MAIL to the SPECTRUM HEADQUARTERS site.