Title: A Sense of Fear (Sequel to "Frailty")
Author: Diandra Hollman
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: http://thexfilesoutlet.tripod.com/main/index.html
         http://dta_fic.tripod.com/main/index.html
Rating: R
Classification: S, A, and since I forgot it last time: R
Keywords: DoggettTorture, DoggettAngst, ScullyAngst, DSR
Spoilers: Not really, but if you haven't seen Patience, you 
          won't understand a reference towards the beginning.
Disclaimer: Scully and Doggett are not mine, blah, blah, blah. 
          Holland and Spinelli *are* mine though! So there! :)
Archive: Sure! Just tell me where it's going, please!
Summary: Doggett attempts to move on after being brutally raped 
         in his own home.
Dedication: To my SHODDS sisters who have been waiting 
         patiently for this installment...okay, maybe they 
         haven't but they've been very supportive! :) To Tasha 
         at SHODDS who said I called her a hopeless case. To my 
         fellow Doggett Torturers, who have been very quiet so 
         far but are gaining strength in numbers. To Lisa, who 
         always gives me suggestions and encouragement. I don't 
         know what I'd do without her! Boy, this is starting to 
         sound like the Oscars... :::band starts playing a 
         cutoff::: To my "biggest fan" in Brazil...Luv ya SD! 
         And to everybody else that has given me feedback. I 
         love you guys! :) Okay, I'm finished now, I promise!
Author's Notes: This story is the fifth in my DoggettTorture 
         series. The parts leading up to it are (in order from 
         1 to 4) A Sense of Security, Reassurances, A Sense of 
         Dignity, and Frailty. This story will probably not 
         make much sense to you if you haven't read those 
         stories first. They can be found on either of my 
         websites, XFMU or Gossamer.


A Sense of Fear
By Diandra Hollman

SCULLY:

I woke up later that night to find Doggett sitting on the edge 
of the bed, his head in his hands, shaking. 

"John, what is it," I asked, hearing a definite slur in my 
voice.

He shook his head. "It's okay, go back to sleep."

I forced my sleepy body to move, sitting up and shifting to 
kneel behind him. I placed my hand on his back lightly. He 
shivered.

"Nightmare?"

He nodded.

"You want to talk about it?"

He sighed. "Not really, but I suppose you're not gonna give me 
a choice."

I smiled, sliding closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his 
waist loosely and rested my cheek against his back. I felt him 
take a deep breath.

"I saw his face this time."

I felt my breath catch in my throat. "What did he look like?"

A short, mirthless laugh escaped him. "You're gonna think I'm 
crazy..."

I unwrapped my arms from around him and shifted to his side so 
I could see his face. "Just tell me," I insisted.

John closed his eyes, seeming to struggle with himself for a 
moment before he turned his head and looked at me. "It was 
Mulder."

I gasped, instinctively recoiling from the possibility that my 
best friend could do something so horrible. I closed my eyes, 
reassuring myself that it was just a dream and gathering my 
wits. "Do you think Mulder could have done this?"

He sighed again, "I don't know *who* could have done it, that's 
the problem! I'm probably just being paranoid, but when he 
first came to the hospital I thought it was him." I slipped my 
hand into his as he continued. "I guess I just want to put a 
face to the man. I need something I can identify."

"I know. But you can't, so your brain is just providing the 
easiest solution. Remember when you asked me about Okam's 
Razor?"

He smiled. "So you're saying I have a limited imagination?"

"No," I laughed. "I'm just saying it's a convenient explanation 
and you shouldn't take it too seriously."

"Mmm," he murmured, giving my hand a slight squeeze. We sat in 
silence for several moments, thinking, until he spoke. His 
voice was so soft I almost didn't hear him. "I was raping him."

And suddenly I knew what was really bothering him. He already 
suspected that Mulder was just a scapegoat. What frightened him 
was the thought of raping a man, even if it was only in his 
dreams.

"Sweetheart, it's perfectly natural to have dreams of 
retaliation when something so awful has happened to you. That 
doesn't make you a bad person."

He nodded, his eyes seemingly reluctant to meet mine. "I know."

"Look...I know you've been reluctant to see a rape counselor, 
but I really wish you would reconsider." His eyes finally met 
mine. "I think you could use some help dealing with this." I 
hoped he understood the combination of apprehension, worry, and 
love in my eyes. I didn't want him to hurt anymore, but I also 
didn't want to risk alienating him.

I felt relief wash over me when he nodded. "Okay," he said 
softly. 

I pulled him into my arms and he wrapped his own around me 
gently, as if he were afraid he would crush me. I rolled my 
eyes. At least his protective side had remained intact...

I turned my head to whisper in his ear. "Let's go back to sleep, 
okay?"

Maybe I just imagined it, but I could have sworn I felt a 
slight shiver go through him.

*******
DOGGETT:
(one week later)
 
Dana helped me make an appointment with a rape counselor for 
the earliest time possible the day after my breakdown. I'm not 
sure why I had been reluctant to get help. I felt so much 
better after just one session. I think I had been afraid of 
letting other people see me as weak. I guess that night, when 
Dana and I had attempted to make love, forced me to realize 
that I couldn't get over the rape on my own. I had thought I 
had control...that the flashbacks were a thing of the past, but 
when Dana took me in her mouth all I could think of was *his* 
mouth on me, his hands...I couldn't do it. No matter how hard I 
tried, I couldn't make those images go away.

After a week, I insisted on going back to my own house. Dana 
had been reluctant to let me go back to being alone in my 
house - the house where the rapist had cornered me in the first 
place. I offered to let her stay with me for a while to ease 
her mind. Oh, who am I kidding? That was just my excuse for 
asking her to stay. In reality I was scared to be alone in that 
house, but I knew I couldn't stay at her apartment forever. I 
was beginning to feel like a burden and it was making me 
uncomfortable. I needed to move on with my life.

Scully drove me to the house and asked if I wanted her to come 
in with me. I said she could if she wanted to - my mind 
screamed /Yes! Please!/ I gathered the mail that had collected 
in my mailbox and, through sheer willpower, managed to prevent 
my hand from shaking as I put my key in the lock.

I entered the house with Scully right behind me. I felt a 
growing sense of panic that I immediately tamped down on. This 
was my house, after all. I could do this. I took a deep breath, 
hoping she wouldn't notice, and moved to put the mail on my 
desk. As I did so, I saw the pile of mail I had been going 
through that night, still lying right where I had left it. The 
police had gone through and taken all the necessary evidence, 
but they had left the pile of mail just as it had been when I 
was attacked. One of the letters was rumpled...and I vaguely 
remembered feeling the paper clenched tightly in my hand as I 
heard the gun being cocked.

I suddenly heard movement behind me. I spun around, feeling my 
breath strangle in my throat, my eyes widening in fear, and 
reached for my gun even though part of me knew I was not 
wearing it. By the time I realized it was just Dana, I had 
already startled her half to death.

"John," she said quietly, approaching me as one would approach 
a spooked horse, her hands held out in front of her to show 
that she meant me no harm. "What is it John? What's wrong?" Her 
eyes held a slightly wary expression, reeling from the sudden 
change in me. 

My mouth opened and closed several times, unable to give voice 
to all of the thoughts, images and feelings that were tumbling 
through my head. Finally, I managed two words: "I can't..." And 
I hurried past her without a second thought.

I had run out the front door and across the street to Scully's 
car before I even had time to think about what I was doing. I 
paused there, leaning on the hood and taking deep breaths while 
I waited for the adrenaline to wear off.

"John..."

I cringed at the sound of her voice so near to me. I didn't 
want to talk about what had happened, and I knew that was 
exactly what she would want me to do. Her hand came to rest on 
my back and I flinched. 

"Are you okay," she asked softly. 

A short, humorless laugh exploded from my mouth before I had a 
chance to reign it in. I bit down on my bottom lip, both to 
prevent any more unwanted sounds from escaping and to stave off 
the tears that had begun to form. /Get a grip John,/ I told 
myself. /What would your drill sergeant say if he saw you 
blubbering like this?/ I clenched my fists and stood rigidly, 
pushing back all signs of potential weakness. 

"I'm going to go lock your door and then we'll go back to my 
place, okay?"

I didn't answer her. I couldn't answer her. 

I heard a soft sigh before she removed her hand from my back 
and walked back across the street and into the house without 
another word. 

**********
(Another week later)

I tried to convince Scully I was ready to go back to work. It 
wasn't easy. After the way I had reacted to being in my own 
house, she was reluctant to agree that I was ready to jump back 
into my life. I can't say I blame her...but it just felt too 
weird to be sitting on my butt doing nothing. I was starting to 
get restless. One morning, she finally relented. 

Together, we managed to put a dent in the pile of paperwork 
that had been stacking up. Who would've ever thought the most 
boring part of my job would make me happy? I guess I was just 
glad to be working again.

After Scully took her third break that morning to stretch, she 
walked over to my desk and rested her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna go get a cup of coffee...do you want me to get one 
for you?"

I tilted my head back to look at her, feeling a couple of neck 
joints pop in the process. 

"Mmm...why don't you let me go get it?" I stood up, feeling 
several more joints give away. "I think I need a break anyway."

"No. No, that's okay, I need the exercise," she protested, 
already halfway to the door. She smiled at me. "I didn't want 
to disturb you."

Yeah, right. I just knew she was afraid I would have a panic 
attack if I left the office. I might run into somebody else who 
reminded me of the rapist. I was safer in the basement. 

I just nodded. After she left I went back to my paperwork, 
shaking my head and smiling as I thought of how protective she 
had become where I was concerned. 

I nearly had a heart attack when I heard a voice from behind me 
ask "Agent Doggett?"

I spun around to see Agent Holland standing in the doorway, 
looking at me hesitantly. 

I took a deep breath to relax my nerves. "Yes, Agent Holland, 
what can I do for you?"

He walked further into the room. "I just heard you were back at 
work now and I wanted to ask you how you were doing."

"I'm fine," I answered warily. "Is...that all you wanted to ask 
me?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes to the floor - the picture of a 
child caught in a lie. "Well...to be honest, Agent Spinelli and 
I aren't having as much luck finding your attacker as we had 
hoped. I was hoping you could help us out a little."

I closed my eyes. I had known they wouldn't have any luck, but 
a part of me had still wished for a miracle. "No. I don't 
remember anything else."

"Hey," he reached over and patted me on the shoulder 
consolingly. "It's okay. We'll find him, don't worry. It might 
be harder than we originally anticipated, but we'll find him!" 

Something inside of me wanted to scream when he touched me. I 
forced myself to control the urge. I knew I probably wasn't 
comfortable having a man get too close to me yet, much less 
letting him touch me.

"So this is Spooky's lair, huh," Holland asked, looking around 
the office, poking his nose where it didn't really belong.

I blinked, trying to shake the uneasy feeling in my gut. 
Something about this guy just made the hair on the back of my 
neck stand up. Maybe it was his personality...he just rubbed me 
the wrong way.

"Yeah," I answered gruffly.

"Y'know, you hear about ol' Spook at the academy, but you never 
believe the stories are true..." He turned to face me. "You 
don't really think he was abducted by aliens, do you," he asked 
with a smirk.

I squinted at him, hoping he would get the hint and realize he 
had worn out his welcome. "I don't know what I believe anymore."

Holland's smirk turned into a grin. "You might want to be 
careful or pretty soon they'll start calling you Spooky 
Junior."

I was getting ready to ask him to leave when Scully returned 
with the coffee. 

"Agent Holland," she said, sounding a bit surprised. "I just 
ran into your partner. He's looking for you."

I silently thanked her. 

"Agent Scully," Holland acknowledged her with a nod of his 
head. Now he was starting to look uncomfortable. "Well...I'll 
see you later, John." He waited for me to acknowledge his 
statement. When I didn't, he shrugged and left the room without 
another word. 

"What was that all about," Scully asked as she handed me my 
coffee.

"He just wanted to remind me how little hope anybody has that 
they will catch this guy," I said bitterly.

Scully reached for my hand - ending up with my arm instead - 
and squeezed sympathetically. I shook my head and indicated the 
office door.

"We should lock that thing more often."

*******
(That night)

I stood in Scully's shower for a long time, just letting the 
hot water soothe away the stiffness in my muscles. I had almost 
forgotten that little bonus that came with hours of sitting at 
a desk. 

I heard the bathroom door open. The first time that had 
happened when I was in the shower I had nearly jumped out of my 
skin, but it no longer bothered me. I knew it was Scully, 
coming in to use the toilet, brush her teeth, throw something 
in the hamper, or whatever else it is she does when she's in 
the bathroom. She had been doing that a lot lately, as we had 
grown increasingly comfortable with each other.

But what really startled me was the sound of her shower door 
rolling open. I started to turn around when I felt her hand on 
my shoulder. 

"It's okay John," she said softly. "It's just me."

"Y'know, if you needed something in here, you could have just 
asked me," I said, trying to alleviate my nervousness. 

She just reached over and picked up the soap that had been 
designated as mine and rubbed it vigorously between her palms 
before sliding her lathered hands from the small of my back up 
to my shoulders, massaging the sore muscles gently. I relaxed 
into her touch with a contented groan.

She made a sympathetic noise and pressed her soft lips to the 
nape of my neck. Her arms slipped underneath mine to start 
running over my chest, fingers absently toying with my nipples. 

Normally this kind of attention from a woman would have gotten 
me very aroused, but that night I was just too tired for it to 
do anything other than relax me to the point where I could have 
fallen asleep right there on the floor of Scully's shower.

When she had finished soaping my body she coaxed me around to 
face her. I took in the sight of her beautifully naked body 
while she reached for the shampoo and squeezed some onto her 
hand.

"Tilt your head back," she said casually. 

She massaged the shampoo into my scalp thoroughly, relaxing me 
even further until I was in danger of dropping off to sleep at 
any second. I was somehow able to stay standing long enough for 
her to rinse the shampoo out. Then I leaned into her, resting 
my head on her shoulder, no longer capable of holding it up.

She wrapped her arms around me and set a gentle swaying motion 
of our bodies. I sighed, pressing myself as close to her as I 
could with her pregnant bulge between us. I wished I could stay 
there forever, wrapped in her arms, soothed by both the warm 
water and her hands stroking my back and neck, but the water 
was starting to cool off. 

Scully reached around me to shut off the tap, but we remained 
standing in the shower for a couple more minutes until I 
started to shiver at the absence of the warmth the water had 
provided. Scully coaxed my head off her shoulder then and 
pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before she opened the shower 
door and leaned out to grab a nearby towel. I let her dry me. I 
was only half-awake by that point. 

When she had finished drying both herself and me she guided me 
out of the bathroom. She handed me my nightclothes - a T-shirt 
and a pair of sweatpants - and kept an eye on me while she put 
on her own oversized shirt to make sure I didn't pass out and 
crack my head open on something my way to the floor. 

She helped me into bed. We lay in what had become our favorite 
position: her on her back, me curled against her side with my 
hand resting on the swell of her abdomen.

Normally we would talk for a while before we fell asleep, but 
that night I was too tired for conversation. I fell asleep to 
the sound of her heartbeat, the feel of her hands stroking me, 
and the soft fluttering of her baby underneath my hand.

*******
FBI Building
(Three days later)

Scully had gone to get coffee again. It had become sort of a 
routine with her; stretch three times, ask me if I want coffee 
(the answer always being yes) and go get some for both of us. 

This time she took longer than usual. I needed to go to the 
men's room, but I was reluctant to leave the office - both 
because I'd be leaving the office empty for anybody who might 
want to walk in and snoop around and because I was afraid 
Scully might panic if I disappeared on her like that.

Eventually, my bladder made the decision for me.

There was only one other person in the bathroom. He left soon 
after I entered. I stepped up to a urinal. I heard the door 
open and another person walk in, but I was too distracted with 
thoughts of the case report I had been writing before I left 
the office to really notice.

I had just zipped my pants back up when I felt a hand on my 
shoulder. 

"Don't turn around."

Despite the fact that I had just emptied my bladder, I'm sure I 
came close to wetting my pants. I knew that voice...

I felt sweat break out all over my body. I started to shake 
uncontrollably. /Oh, please God, tell me this is not happening 
again...tell me I'm having another nightmare!/

"We're gonna walk down to the parking garage real casually. I 
don't want to see you trying to alert anybody on the way, got 
it?"

I felt him press the barrel of a gun - not mine this time - 
into my ribs. I attempted to swallow past the lump in my 
throat. I closed my eyes and nodded. 

"Okay." He maneuvered me until I was facing the other 
direction, making sure he stayed behind me the entire time so I 
couldn't see his face. He pulled the gun away from me - 
probably hiding it in his pocket or under his belt - and gave 
me a push in the direction of the door.  

"We're gonna take the stairs."

I felt my body move without my conscious permission towards the 
door and down the hall. I felt like a lamb being led to a 
slaughter. I wanted to scream, but I was too afraid to try. 

My brain was racing. How had this guy gotten past security? Why 
didn't anybody stop us in the halls? /Please...somebody notice! 
Doesn't he look suspicious to anyone?/ Suddenly it hit me. /He 
doesn't look suspicious because he works here./ That would 
explain how he got a gun through the security checkpoint. He 
was authorized to carry it. /Holland and Spinelli have been 
looking everywhere for this guy and he was right under their 
noses!/ In another time and place I would have found that 
funny...but at that moment it just made me want to cry.

I started running through a mental reference of all the agents 
in the building I could think of - all the possible suspects 
who could match the rapist. The only ones I could rule out with 
any certainty were the female agents. /Yeah, that really helps 
me.../ I thought bitterly. I knew I would not know for sure 
until I saw his face. I was determined to find a way to do 
that. /If I can't stop him this time, at least I'll be able to 
identify him later.../ 

As much as the idea of letting this man rape me again repulsed 
and frightened me, I was comforted by the possibility of 
finally putting him behind bars. I would finally be able to 
live safely in my own house again. I would no longer have to 
look over my shoulder whenever I was alone because I was afraid 
of another attack. I could stop living in fear. 

No matter how much I tried to stop it, my mental lineup of 
suspects kept returning to one face. Mulder. Could I have been 
wrong about him? /It fits, doesn't it? He works in the 
building - or did. He has a gun. He knows who you are and where 
you live. He has access to you. And no one would be suspicious 
if they saw the two of you leaving the building together 
because you work in the same department./ I felt a shiver go up 
my spine. /But he couldn't possibly be capable of kidnapping 
and raping his best friend's partner, could he?/

When we reached the garage, the man led me to my car. /Of 
course...he doesn't want me to be able to identify his./ 

"You'll have to drive," he whispered. He had still managed to 
avoid speaking above a whisper to me. I wondered why he didn't 
just knock me out, blindfold me, throw me in the back seat or 
trunk and drive himself. Why the risk? Then I remembered the 
security cameras in the garage. He wanted it all to look as 
inconspicuous as possible.

I got into the driver's seat while he slid in the back. He made 
sure to sit in such a way that I was unable to see him in the 
rearview mirror. 

I followed his directions - driving until I came to a deserted 
alley. There, he ordered me to stop and shut off the engine. I 
had just turned the key when his hand came around to clamp a 
chloroform-soaked cloth over my nose and mouth. He trapped my 
head against the headrest, allowing me little movement. Even 
though I knew it was futile, I still fought him instinctively.

Then my eyes caught something in the rearview mirror. Despite 
all the careful measures he had taken, the rapist had failed to 
realize that the position he had moved into in order to get the 
cloth over my face and also be able to restrain me when I 
started fighting had brought him directly into the mirror's 
range of sight. 

By the time he had discovered his mistake it was too late. Our 
eyes met briefly before the chloroform took effect and I sank 
into unconsiousness.

I should have trusted my instincts.


END OF PART 5

hehehehe :)