Title: Frailty (sequel to "A Sense of Dignity")
Author: Diandra Hollman
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: www.geocities.com/diandrahollman/thex_filesoutlet.html
Rating: NC-17
Classification: S R A
Keywords: DoggettTorture, DoggettAngst, ScullyAngst, DSR
Spoilers: An award goes to the person who finds one...okay, 
          there aren't any...
Disclaimer: Doggett and Scully belong to the big mean man who 
          would never in a million years allow them to do 
          something like this. Please don't sue me.
Archive: Anywhere, just let me know so I know where to find it 
          please.
Summary: "I had seen so many men - and a few women - die right 
          before my eyes. I had seen things that could only 
          have resulted from the sick, twisted imagination of 
          the truly demented. I had buried my only son without 
          any more that brief, silent tears that I had allowed 
          myself to shed when I knew there was no one around to 
          see me cry. But I couldn't hide from Scully." 
Dedication: As ever, to my SHODDS sisters. I love you guys! To 
          Lisa, thank you for your support and encouragement 
         (and for nagging me constantly to hurry up with the 
          next installment :) ). And to everybody else out 
          there who has sent me feedback on this series. I love 
          you all!
Author's Notes: This is part four of my DoggettTorture series. 
          You will probably need to read the other stories in 
          this series to understand this one. Here's the series 
          so far:
          Part I: A Sense of Security
          Part II: Reassurances
          Part III: A Sense of Dignity
          

Frailty
By Diandra Hollman

I opened my eyes to blackness. I tried to move, but I could 
feel the handcuffs around my wrists preventing me from going 
anywhere. 

/Oh, God no. Not again.../

"Looks like somebody's awake." 

I felt my heart stop. It was him...the man with the voice I 
knew I would be hearing in my nightmares until the day I died. 
I suddenly realized I was already naked, lying face down on the 
floor. I started to fight for all I was worth, determined to 
stop him from hurting me all over again.

There was no warning. Within seconds the man was buried inside 
me, ripping open the mended flesh. I screamed.

"Agent Doggett!"

I opened my eyes. I was no longer blindfolded or handcuffed. I 
was safe in my bed - I had been dreaming. When I had gotten a 
grip on reality, I realized that Scully had awakened me. She 
was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me. She wiped 
the sweat from my face with one hand as she whispered sweet 
nothings to calm me. And in another time and place she might 
have succeeded, but in this one I could still feel the man 
inside me, raping me. I felt sick. Without even acknowledging 
her, I got out of bed and hurried unsteadily towards the 
bathroom. 

I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and threw up the 
entire contents of my stomach. Then the dry heaves started. 
When I was finally able to catch my breath I used toilet paper 
to wipe my mouth and then flushed the toilet. I tried to get up 
off the floor, but my entire body had started shaking so 
violently that I didn't have the strength to stand. So I sat 
there, shaking like a Parkinson's patient, knowing Scully would 
be coming to help me. I didn't care. All I wanted anymore was 
for death to take me. Only then would I finally be safe.

*********
SCULLY:

When the hospital had finally released Doggett, I had insisted 
he come home with me. I couldn't stand the thought of him being 
alone when he was still in such a fragile state - emotionally. 
Both his doctor and I had tried many times to convince him that 
he should make an appointment to see a rape counselor, but he 
had stubbornly refused every time. 

But his mental health wasn't the only reason for him to stay 
with me...the rapist knew where he lived. We both knew that he 
would not feel safe in his own home until that man was safely 
behind bars. We just didn't know how long it would take for 
that to happen.

I had known it would only be a matter of time before the 
nightmares started up again. It had been a little after 
midnight when the shouting started. I could hear Doggett 
telling the rapist to stop. To "please don't do this." I ran 
into the guest bedroom where he slept. I sat beside him and 
tried to unclench his fists while I called to him softly.

"John? John, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe. It's just a 
dream."

He couldn't hear me. His head thrashed from side to side as he 
cried "no" over and over again and I knew I would not be able 
to wake him gently.

"John!"

He went stone still. For a moment I thought I had gotten 
through to him. Then he let out the most horrific scream I had 
ever heard in my life. I was afraid he might flail out and hurt 
me unintentionally if I woke him at that moment, but I was more 
afraid for him and his sanity than anything else. 

"John!" I tried desperately. "Agent Doggett!"

He gasped and opened his eyes. They were wild and unfocused, 
but at least he was awake. I tried to comfort him. I stroked 
his sweaty face and murmured every soothing statement I could 
think of. As soon as he was fully awake, he pushed me aside and 
hurried to the bathroom. He left the door open, but I did not 
follow. I knew he needed to hold onto his sense of dignity. So 
I sat on the bed, listening to the painful retching sounds he 
was making.

I waited until the noises stopped and the toilet flushed. I 
waited for several minutes in the silence that followed, but he 
did not return to the bedroom. 

"Agent Doggett, are you all right in there?" I called. I got no 
answer. I decided his sense of dignity was no longer an issue 
at that point. I entered the bathroom and found him on the 
floor. He was leaning against the wall near the toilet, curled 
up into as small of a ball as his long body could make. But
what demanded my attention most was the fact that he was 
staring into space and shaking uncontrollably.

I found a washcloth and wet it in the sink. I sat down slowly 
in front of him, not wanting to frighten him. 

"Agent Doggett," I said softly.  "John? Let me help you..." 

His eyes turned in my direction but they remained blank, 
seeming to stare right through me. I used one hand to support 
the side of his head and, with the washcloth in my other hand, 
gently wiped the sweat from his face. I continued to talk to 
him soothingly, though I wasn't sure if he could even hear me. 

A tear rolled down his cheek, but his expression never changed. 
He was in emotional shock; no longer in control of his 
emotions, but unable to give voice to them. I wiped away the 
tear. I knew I had to bring him out of his trance. He was in a 
place where he couldn't feel pain and he was safe, but he 
couldn't stay there. He had to let these emotions go if he was 
ever going to get better.

"John? Come back to me John." No response. "I know you feel 
safe right now, wherever you are, but I need you to come back 
to me, John. I need you." 

I had known that would get me a response. The man could no more 
refuse my plea than he could refuse to take his next breath. 
But I almost regretted my ploy after taking one look into his 
eyes. He had hit rock bottom - the place where many rape 
victims attempt to take their own life. His eyes reflected all 
the pain, humiliation and injustice that had been inflicted 
upon him. His fear, his anger, and his helplessness had all 
reached their summit - overwhelming him with emotions until 
his body was no longer able to handle them. His mind, in an 
attempt to protect him from the overflow, had begun to shut 
down. 

I swallowed thickly and said the only thing I could think of to 
say. 

"Let it go."

I saw the tears begin to pool in his eyes. His mouth worked 
soundlessly for endless moments as his control spun quickly 
away from him. For the first time since I found him chained to 
his desk, he reached out to me. I pulled him into my arms and 
held him tightly as all the emotions he had been holding back 
for so long came pouring out of him in great heaving sobs. He 
clung to me desperately, all but screaming at the loss of at 
least one innocent part of his being. I felt my soul shatter at 
the sound. I clutched him as close to me as I possibly could 
and pressed kisses everywhere I could reach - his shoulder, his 
neck, his hair, his temple - but I couldn't be sure if he even 
felt them.

I didn't say anything. Even if I thought he could hear me 
through his grief, anything I could have said would have been 
insignificant and only serve to curb the flow of his tears. He 
needed this release. Statements like 'it's okay' 'it's all 
right' and even 'shh' might only get in the way. So I just held 
him, rocking slightly, and rubbing his back encouragingly. 

When my shirt was soaked with his tears and his sobs began to 
taper off I finally found my voice. 

"That's it. Let it all out. It's okay. I'm here."

He choked and gasped a few times, but no longer had the 
strength to do anything more than cry quietly onto my shoulder. 
His grip had loosened, but mine didn't. I held firmly and 
continued to stroke his back, neck, and hair, all the while  
giving him gentle, soothing kisses.

When there finally seemed to be no tears left for him to cry, I 
decided to try getting him back to bed before he fell asleep on 
the bathroom floor. I pulled away from him gently and cupped 
his face in my hands, wiping some of the remaining moisture off 
of his cheeks.

"Let's get you back in bed, okay? Do you think you can stand?"

He nodded slightly.

"Okay. Come on. I'll help you."

I supported him as he stood shakily. Then I wrapped my arm 
around his waist and helped him walk slowly back to the 
bedroom. I pulled back the covers and gently pushed him to sit 
on the bed. I placed my hand behind his head and lowered him to 
the pillows, almost amazed at the way he so passively allowed 
me to maneuver him as I wished. I lifted his legs onto the 
mattress and spread the covers over him, tucking him in 
carefully.

I turned to go back to the bathroom when I heard his voice, 
ragged from his tears, say "Don't go."

I bent to kiss his forehead and whispered "I just want to get a 
washcloth. I'll be right back, I promise."

He seemed to consider that for a second before he nodded. I 
hurriedly retrieved a new cloth, throwing the old one into the 
laundry basket, and wet it with cool water. I shut off the 
bathroom light and returned to the bedroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed and reached over him to gently 
wipe away the salty residue of his tears. He stared at me, 
seeming to consider my motives for everything. For being there 
with him. For losing sleep myself as I helped him deal with 
his demons. For treating him with so much care after he had 
been so cold and distant to me. 

I finished washing his face and put the washcloth on the 
bedside table. Not wanting to break contact with him yet, I 
started stroking his hair. His eyes closed and he leaned into 
my hand like a cat that wanted to be pet.

A moment later his eyes opened and he looked at me worriedly. 

"Please, don't leave..."

I looked into his eyes and saw - not the strong agent I had 
grown accustomed to - but a vulnerable boy who didn't want to 
be left alone.

I pulled back the covers again and crawled over him into the 
middle of the bed. I lay on my back and - with one hand behind 
his neck - coaxed him lie beside me with his head pillowed by 
my shoulder. I pulled the covers over us both and wrapped my 
arms around him comfortably. 

I kissed his hair softly and whispered "Go to sleep."

I lay there, holding him tightly and stroking him until his 
exhaustion won out and he drifted to sleep. 

Lying there in the dark, I made a promise to him, to myself and 
to God that I would do everything in my power to help him and 
protect him from harm. And then I, too, fell asleep.

*********
DOGGETT:
(A couple hours later)

I woke up in Dana's arms, not knowing where I was or how I had 
come to be there. Then I remembered everything...Jesus, what 
was happening to me? I had been blubbering in her arms like a 
child! I knew I needed the release, but I didn't want her to 
think I was so helpless that I was totally dependent on her. 

I rolled away from her, ashamed, and curled up into a ball on 
the opposite side of the bed. I felt Dana wake up at the 
movement. 

"John," she asked sleepily. I bit my lip in frustration, 
although I'm not sure who I was frustrated at: her or me. At my 
lack of answer, she sat up, wide-awake and asked, "Are you 
okay?"

I opened my mouth, but could not come up with an answer for 
her. I wasn't okay, but I felt like admitting that to her was 
putting an unnecessary burden on her shoulders. 

She shifted on the bed and I felt her press herself up against 
my back, wrapping one arm around me and slipping the other 
beneath my head. I sighed. I realized I had been gradually 
pushing her away from me in the days since my...rape. Jesus, 
how long had it taken me to admit to myself that that's what 
it was: a rape? I was tired. Tired of pushing her away. Tired 
of trying to deny what happened to me just to bolster my sense 
of pride and dignity. What good were pride and dignity to me 
when I was so busy denying everything that had happened and 
then cowering in my protective shell?

Scully nuzzled her face into my neck and hugged me tightly. I 
tried to relax in her arms, but part of me seemed reluctant to 
let my guard down...even if it was only Scully.

"Talk to me John," she pleaded. 

I finally found my voice, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what," she asked softly.

"Taking care of me. Why do you care so much?"

She seemed to think about her answer for a moment. "Because 
I've realized how much you mean to me."

"I thought our relationship was just professional." 

She sighed. "Well, I was hoping we had at least moved on to the 
'friendship' stage by now..."

I chuckled in spite of myself.

She became serious again. "But I think it's more than that. I 
think I'm starting...to fall in love with you."

I snorted. "I think you're confusing love with pity."

"No," she whispered. She brushed her lips against the back of 
my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I don't pity you." I 
felt a lump begin to form in my throat and cursed myself for 
the weakness I was feeling. 

I turned slightly so I could see her face; so I could look into 
her eyes. /Please,/ I implored silently. /Don't do this to 
me.../ I opened my mouth to speak, and instead felt the 
steadily-rising lump lodge itself somewhere in the vicinity of 
my vocal chords, rendering me mute. 

Scully's lips turned up slightly at the corners, giving me a 
smile that could have rivaled Mona Lisa herself. The hand not 
trapped beneath my head began drawing circles on my chest 
affectionately, her touch as soft as a kitten's breath. I felt 
tears form in my eyes at her gentleness and squeezed my eyes 
tightly shut, desperate to stop the flow. I felt so weak and 
pathetic. 

Scully leaned closer to me, close enough for me to feel her 
breath on my ear. "I know you're scared right now," she 
whispered. "You just have to trust me. Let me take care of you. 
I can't help you if you won't talk to me." She paused. I felt 
her shift slightly and press her lips softly to my chin. 

A choked sound escaped my tear-swollen throat and I opened my 
eyes in surrender, meeting her steady gaze. What I saw in her 
eyes broke down any remaining barriers I may have had. I saw 
love. Not sympathy. Not any attempt at empathy. She wasn't a 
doctor obligated to help her patient. She wasn't just trying to 
help a friend in need. Her eyes laid her very soul bare to me, 
revealing every emotion, every thought...and I saw nothing but 
love in its purest form. 

That was the catalyst. Suddenly, every emotion I had held 
inside me from the day that rapist walked into my house came 
pouring out. My little outburst on the floor of her bathroom 
had been merely a release of excess energy. It had been only a 
drop in the bucket. This was a torrential downpour. I felt 
Scully pull me into her arms and hold me tightly, as if she 
could take me into her body, take away all my pain and make me 
whole again. I let the emotions roll over me in immense waves, 
allowing them to completely overwhelm my body and mind, finally 
emerging from me in the most primal of screams. Tears streamed 
freely down my face. I no longer felt in command of my body. I 
was spinning madly out of control. I felt like I was dying. The 
world was fading to black. 

"John...'an...'ear..." I vaguely heard Dana's voice calling me 
through the insistent buzzing fog in my head. "A...'nt 
D...'ett! Co...'ack...me!" The darkness was closing around me 
completely and I went to it willingly. 

A sharp, stinging pain on my cheek brought me back to 
awareness. Air rushed into my lungs and I realized for the 
first time that I had stopped breathing. I gasped for air, 
feeling light-headed from lack of oxygen. I felt Dana's hands 
on my arms in a bruising grip. When her face finally swam into 
focus the love had been transformed into fear. 

"Breathe, John," she shouted frantically. "Come on...stay with 
me here! John!" 

I focused on pulling air into lungs that seemed reluctant to 
cooperate. Scully rubbed my back in harsh, desperate circles, 
trying to encourage me to keep breathing. 

"Oh, God," she whispered. "I'm so sorry..." Her voice broke as 
she pleaded with me. "Please, stay with me John...Jesus, I'm so 
sorry..." 

I wanted to ask her what she was sorry for, but all of my 
remaining energy was focused on drawing my next breath. Scully 
loosened her hold on me and began stroking one hand through my 
hair soothingly. As my mind began coming back into focus I felt 
her stroke her hand briefly over my cheek, right where I could 
still feel the stinging shock of pain. And suddenly I 
understood. 

I had stopped breathing. I had been so lost in my grief that my 
body had lost the ability to maintain the most basic 
involuntary functions. Scully had tried calling me back, but I 
had been beyond hearing. In her desperation to get through to 
me she had slapped me, hard, across the cheek. But she was 
afraid she had crossed a line she shouldn't have with that 
gesture. She was afraid she had forced me back into my 
protective shell, never to be seen or heard from again. I made 
a slight shaking motion of my head. I tried to convey to her 
through my eyes what I was unable to put into speech. *I* was 
the one who should be apologizing. I must have nearly given 
her a heart attack with that little performance! 

When she was sure I had gotten my body back under control, she 
kissed my forehead, temples, eyelids, cheeks...everywhere she 
could reach. She lingered at the corner of my mouth, trembling 
slightly in the after-shocks of her panic. I turned my head, 
blindly seeking her lips with my own. Our first kiss was 
nothing either of us could have expected. It was desperate and 
needy; both of us wanting to reassure ourselves of the other's 
presence, each needing to feel comforted by that simple 
reassurance. 

After what felt like an eternity, we broke the kiss and simply 
sat for a long time, holding each other in a crushing embrace. 

"Oh, God...I love you," I heard her murmur.

Still unable to speak, I could only nod. /I love you too./

*******
SCULLY:

I shouldn't have pushed him. I should have let him come to me 
when he was ready to talk; ready to open himself up to me; 
ready to heal. Instead I forced it on him all at once. I guess 
it never occurred to me that it would hit him so hard. 

When he stopped breathing, I thought my heart would stop 
beating. I felt him begin to fade away right there in my arms 
and all my fear raged to the surface. In a fit of hysteria I 
slapped him, desperate for a way to get through to him. I was 
so afraid I would lose him to the insanity I had forced him to 
face. Then he kissed me. 

I admit I had wondered once what it would be like to kiss John 
Doggett, but in my wildest dreams I never could have imagined 
our first kiss to be so full of love and angst at the same 
time. To be so desperately...*needy*.

I told him I loved him. I felt him nod against my neck - where 
his face was buried - his breathing still too ragged to attempt 
speech. He didn't have to say a word for me to know he loved me 
too. Why did it have to take something as horrifying as a rape 
to get us to finally say those words? 

He clutched me so tightly I briefly wondered if I would be 
crushed in his arms. He sought out my lips again, pressing his 
lips to mine almost violently. It was as though he were afraid 
I might disappear. I broke the kiss and stroked my hand through 
his hair, trying to soothe him.

He gasped in a few more breaths before he regained his voice. 
"Please...I need..." His eyes had an almost wild quality to 
them.

"Shh...just take it easy. Deep breaths..."

I waited. I waited until his breathing evened out to normal. 
Until his body finally relaxed in my arms and he grew limp. I 
stroked his chest in circles, murmuring to him the entire time. 

I was startled when his hand came up to cover mine. 

"You should stop," he said softly.

I was confused. I was afraid the moment had passed and his 
protective barrier was going back up to shut me out. Then I 
looked deeper into his eyes...

Lust. I tried to dismiss it as merely another outlet for the 
energy he had been bottling up since the rape - the emotions. 
But that's not what I saw in his eyes. And I knew what it was 
he wanted. It made sense in a way. The rapist's violation of 
his body made him feel dirty, perhaps even unloved. Physical 
healing had come easily. I had just put him on the path to 
emotional healing... but there was still sexual healing.

I shook my head. Not because I didn't want to have sex with 
him...eventually, but because it was too soon. There was no 
doubt in my mind that any sexual activity while his emotional 
state was still so fragile would only cause more pain and more 
emotional scars. 

I guess he wasn't as emotionally delicate as I thought...the 
next thing I knew, he was pulling at the oversize T-shirt I had 
taken to sleeping in since I became pregnant. Part of me wanted 
to help him, but another, more rational, part wanted to get up, 
go back to my room, and get some sleep. Then I looked into 
John's eyes and felt the rational side fall back and raise the 
white flag in surrender. 

We divested of our remaining clothes in record time. The room 
suddenly seemed overly bright to me and I wanted to cover my 
pregnancy-bloated body self-consciously. I brought my arms up 
over my chest, but Doggett grabbed them before they got there. 
He shook his head wordlessly and pressed his lips to my neck 
without any further hesitation. 

My hands roamed over his back languidly, my head rolling back 
as I reveled in the sensations of his lips on my throat and his 
hands stroking over my arms, shoulders and, finally, my chest. 
It felt like an eternity passed before his kisses finally 
migrated south. I gasped at the jolt of electricity that surged 
through me the moment his mouth latched onto my breast. Any 
remaining thoughts of putting an end to this before it went too 
far flew out the window as I felt the familiar heat growing in 
my abdomen.

In one swift move, Doggett reversed our positions so I was 
lying on my back and he was hovering above me. His attentions 
shifted to my other breast as his hand stroked my bulging 
abdomen reverently. When he had thoroughly laved my breasts to 
his liking, he trailed wet kisses down to the area just above 
my pubic hair and then he paused. After several moments of 
silence, I looked down to see him resting his head ever so 
gently against the bulge where my child was growing. I felt a 
surge of tenderness at the loving gesture. I combed my fingers 
through his hair and rubbed his temples for a while, reveling 
in the moment. 

I wove my fingers into his hair and tugged gently. He drew 
himself up until his face was once again level with mine. I 
nudged him until he rolled onto his back and then pressed up 
against his side, slipping my right leg between both of his. I 
drew random patterns on his chest with my fingertips until he 
gave me a small smile. Then I swirled my hand down his muscled 
stomach to his hips. He gasped, his back arching slightly, 
silently begging me to keep going. 

I paused, drawing out his anticipation as long as I dared. Then 
I finally wrapped my hand around his erection loosely. He 
groaned, his eyes slamming shut in pleasure. Keeping my hand 
moving in a steady rhythm, I bent to run kisses over his neck 
and chest. He was finally completely relaxed...and becoming 
more aroused by the minute. I trailed kisses down to his 
abdomen, dipping my tongue in his navel seductively. He groaned 
again, his hips rising off the bed, pushing further into my 
hand.

When I reached his hips I felt him begin to tense. I stroked 
his abdomen soothingly and whispered "just relax...let me do 
this for you." I decided I had done enough teasing and I moved 
right to the main event, dragging my tongue slowly up his penis 
from base to tip. I heard his breathing accelerate. I hovered 
over him for a moment, allowing him to feel my warm, moist 
breath on his sensitive flesh, before I engulfed him in my 
mouth. 

He cried out, his hips bucking off the bed. Then, amazingly, I 
felt his erection begin to wane. I was confused until I heard 
him speak.

"Oh, God, no...please no...not again..." His eyes were shut 
tightly, his face pinched in fear. I felt my breath catch and 
my heart twist painfully at the realization that I had brought 
up another memory of his ordeal. I mentally berated myself for 
letting everything get so out of hand. /It's too soon for him 
to be doing this/ I had known that all along, really. I 
shouldn't have let it happen...

I moved to lie alongside him again and stroked his creased 
forehead.

"John...did he do that to you?"

Doggett nodded miserably and opened his eyes to give me a 
sheepish look. I knew he felt stupid for reacting the way he 
did when he had known all along that it was me, not the rapist. 

I gathered him in my arms and brushed my lips against his 
temple.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have done that." 

He shook his head stubbornly and opened his mouth to protest. I 
pressed a finger to his lips to stop him. 

"It's too soon for this," I insisted. "You need more time..." 
Words suddenly failed me, so I let my eyes say the rest. /You 
need more time to heal...to recover. I'll help you. We'll get 
through this, I promise./

He nodded in acceptance. 

We lay curled up against each other for a long time, holding 
hands, stroking hair and faces gently and kissing lovingly 
until we both fell asleep. 

*******
DOGGETT:

I felt like such a baby. Here this woman had been trying so 
hard to please me, and all I could do was cry and beg her to 
stop because my fragile little ego couldn't take it. I knew 
damn well it was her mouth on me...not his, but somehow it 
didn't make a difference. Just what I needed to do: give her 
one more reason to worry about me. 

Part of me wished I didn't love her so much. And that she 
didn't love me. It would have been a lot easier on her if she 
wasn't personally involved. But the small, selfish side of me 
just wanted to curl up in a ball at her feet and let her take 
care of me...let her take away all the feelings that were too 
difficult for me to face and make them disappear. I needed her 
help more than anything, but I was too proud to admit it.

I had seen so many men - and a few women - die right before my 
eyes. I had seen things that could only have resulted from the 
sick, twisted imagination of the truly demented. I had buried 
my only son without any more than brief, silent tears that I 
had allowed myself to shed when I knew there was no one around 
to see me cry. But I couldn't hide from Scully. She could get 
me to open up like no woman in my life had ever been able to do 
before; not even Monica Reyes, although not for lack of trying 
on her part... 

I had been so sure I could handle the rape just like I had been 
able to handle everything else that had been painful, and even 
frightening, in my life. Everywhere I had turned after the 
rape, there had been someone insisting I see a therapist. I had 
refused every time. I was so sure I could handle it on my own. 
Because of Scully I realized with painful clarity that this was 
one thing I couldn't face alone, but I still didn't want to see 
a rape counselor. I just needed Scully. With her support, I 
felt like I could handle anything.

As we lay there, facing each other, limbs wrapped around one 
another's bodies, I felt something change. I felt a burgeoning 
hope begin to spread through me. Even though I knew nothing 
about my rapists intentions, I felt like I had already defied 
him in a way. I had survived. And I had to keep surviving, 
because if I didn't, he would have won. 

That night I made a silent vow. I wouldn't let what this man 
had done to me take control of my life. I would fight back. 
John Doggett had never been a man who let things like this get 
to him, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna start just because 
some fucker tried to take away his dignity in a twisted display 
of something the rapist believed - somewhere in his sick, 
twisted mind - to be love. I couldn't let him win. Not as long 
as there was life in my body.

I smiled at Scully where she lay inches from me on my pillow 
and, with her hand held firmly in mine, I fell asleep.

*********

This time I wasn't blindfolded. This time he was wearing an 
ominous looking black hood. This time I wasn't the one being 
raped... this time I was doing the raping.

As much as that horrified me, on some level I imagined that 
with every thrust of my hips, I was returning all the pain and 
fear this monster had inflicted upon me. He screamed in pain 
and thrashed against the handcuffs - my handcuffs - 
restraining him. 

I tried to stop and pull away, but my body seemed unaffected by 
my mind's revulsion towards its actions and refused to obey my 
commands. Instead, my hips sped up, thrusting brutally and 
drawing a tortured wail from my victim. I felt a scream of my 
own rise in my throat, but when I opened my mouth all I heard 
was hysterical laughter.

I suddenly needed to see his face. To know, once and for all, 
who this man was who had taken away my sense of dignity and 
security so violently. I viciously ripped the hood away... and 
looked into the frightened eyes of Fox Mulder.

THE END

Don't worry, there is more to come! And before everybody jumps 
to conclusions, I just want to say that there is more here than 
meets the eye... 
:::cue creepy XF music:::