Title: A Sense of Security Author: Diandra Hollman E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com Website: www.geocities.com/diandrahollman/thex_filesoutlet.html Spoilers: up to Three Words, but hardly worth mentioning Rating: R, with an NC-17 rape scene Classification: SA Keywords: DoggettTorture, DoggettAngst, ScullyAngst, Doggett/Scully UST, Rape Archives: I don't care, as long as my name is on it. Disclaimer: Yeah, right, like they're really mine... Summary: Pretend that nothing beyond DeadAlive ever happened. Now take the scene in Three Words where Absalom kidnaps Doggett and remove Absalom and any established plot of the episode (pretend this was the opening scene). This is my take on what would have happened if it had been someone other than Absalom holding the gun...someone with a very different agenda. Authors notes: As always, I love feedback. Flames will be read but might prompt me to write vicious essays (see my website). Flames from Doggett-haters will be returned to sender. A Sense of Security By Diandra Hollman I can't believe it happened to me. I got home, hung up my coat, dropped my gun off on the entry table, picked up my mail and brought it to my desk. This was my usual evening routine, I didn't think anything of it until I heard the distinct *click* of my gun being cocked. For a moment, I hoped I had imagined the noise. I wondered if working on the X-files was making me as paranoid and delusional as Agent Mulder. I had started to turn around when a voice whispered "Don't move, Agent Doggett." My heart started racing. My mouth went dry. I was in full "Fight or Flight" mode. Then my rational side kicked in. I raised my hands slowly in the universal signal of "I have no weapon and I'm not resisting so don't shoot me". "Who are you? What do you want," I asked tentatively. Instead of answering, he reached his right hand around my head and clamped a handkerchief over my mouth and nose. At the same time, he pulled me back against him, knocking me off balance and forcing my head to lay on his shoulder. I did my damndest to fight him off for all of five seconds before my vision blurred and I started to lose consciousness. Chloroform. I dimly heard my attacker whisper one word in my ear. "You." My last thought before everything went black was "Why did I leave my door unlocked?" ********** When I woke up, I was lying on the floor, on my back, handcuffed to a drawer handle on my desk. /What are the chances these are *my* cuffs?/ I thought bitterly. I also wondered if the thing blindfolding me was my necktie. /How the *fuck* did this happen? How does a former marine turned New York police officer turned FBI agent get himself kidnapped in his own goddamn house? By a guy using *my* fucking gun, no less?/ I heard a noise coming from the direction of my kitchen, where my kidnaper had apparently gone. Then I heard his footsteps, growing louder as he moved towards me. I decided to forego questions and move right to plea-bargaining. "Look, if you want me to give you information on something..." "I don't want information," he interrupted. "Then what the hell *do* you want," I asked, frustrated and still a bit woozy from the chloroform. I felt him kneel beside me. He leaned his head in so his lips were right next to my ear and whispered two words that made my blood run cold. "Just you." I felt something cool and metallic brush along my arm. A knife. One he had gotten from my kitchen, no doubt. He stroked the blade against my arm until he was sure that my tactile memory had told me what it was. Then he slipped it between my wrist and the sleeve of my shirt and I heard the sound of cloth ripping. He cut the fabric of my shirt all the way up to my shoulder, then he did the same to the other arm. When I felt him cut away my belt and start on my pants I began to really panic. I had no idea who he was or what he wanted, but it wasn't looking good so far. He straddled my chest and I felt something bump into my lips. I turned my head away and felt it stroke over my cheek and neck. It was his penis. He was naked...and he was very aroused. "Just you," he repeated. I felt my heart skip a beat as his words finally sunk in. /Oh, God, please let this be some bizarre ritual he does before he kills me...anything but *that*!/ He lifted off me and flipped me onto my stomach roughly. My handcuffs twisted awkwardly, biting into my wrists, but I barely noticed the pain. My silent shock of the situation broke when he sat on my thighs, removing all doubt as to his intentions. "Please..." I begged, all sense of dignity aside. "Don't do this." I knew it was useless to plead with him, but I needed to do *something*. His response was to shove one finger roughly into my ass, sans lubrication. I began screaming at him; a long string of obscenities and unintelligible insults. I thrashed, trying futilely to free my hands from the cuffs. "Relax John," he whispered. "I won't have to hurt you if you don't fight me..." "Fuck you!" A second finger stabbed into me and I screamed with pain and rage. He pulled my head up with his free hand under my chin, forcing my mouth shut. "I don't appreciate being talked to like that," he whispered in my ear. "I don't want to have to hurt you, John..." He pushed a third finger inside me and stretched me wide. "Why are you doing this," I asked, almost afraid of the answer. "Because I love you." "Well, this is some way to show it," I said sarcastically. "It was the only way." Suddenly his fingers left me and I fought to hold back a whimper as my muscles screamed in pain. Then I felt his penis brush against my ass. His warning forgotten, I began to buck against him, trying to throw him off, determined to stop this from happening. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the floor. I heard a *pop* that I knew to be my nose breaking. I was effectively stunned into submission. I felt him press his erection against my anus, but I was in too much pain to protest. My pain turned to agony as he buried himself deep in my rectum. I screamed. It felt like he was splitting my body in half from the inside out. Somewhere through the red haze of pain I heard him say "Jesus...you're so tight...I knew you'd be a virgin...you feel so good..." I wanted to throw up, but I didn't want to show him any weakness. I was horrified to feel my body responding to the situation, my penis beginning to stiffen with blood. Thankfully, it didn't take him long to come and then the painful presence was removed. He turned me over again. Before I knew what he was doing he had taken me deep in his mouth. I guess it was too much to ask that he simply leave after he fucked me. He wanted my release too. I was mortified. Thankfully, since pleasure was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment, his attentions had no effect on me. In fact, I wilted a little in his mouth. Unfortunately, he did not give up easily. He inserted one finger into my abused ass and searched until he found my prostate. My erection returned, bobbing defiantly in the bastard's mouth as he stroked the gland. When I came, he took the first jet of semen in his mouth and then backed off to let the rest of it stain my chest and abdomen. I'm not sure when I started, but I was still moaning when he grabbed my chin forcefully in one hand and plugged my nose with the other. Then he crushed his mouth over mine in a bizarre display of resuscitation and deposited my semen in my mouth. I tried to turn my head, but his hold was firm. If I wanted him to let go so I could breathe, I had to swallow. It nearly gagged me. He pulled away and I gasped for air, trying to hold back the nausea that threatened once again as I tasted my own ejaculate. Then he pressed his mouth to mine again in a deep, passionate kiss that made my blood boil with rage. I bit his tongue. He yelped and pulled away. I felt a satisfaction at having been able to defy him with at least this one gesture. Then I felt something impact my side. It took my addled brain about a full minute to realize that he had found the knife he had been using earlier and stabbed me. "I told you not to fight me," he said. "I'll see you later, John." Then he left. I rolled over on my side, oblivious to the pain from my still-chained wrists, and cried until I passed out. **************** SCULLY: I really had no reason to visit Agent Doggett that day. I just wanted to see how he was doing, I guess. I'm glad I did. When I got there, his door was wide open. I readied my gun and inched towards the empty doorway. "Agent Doggett," I called. "It's Agent Scully, are you there?" I got no response, so I entered cautiously. I found him naked and curled up on the floor by a desk, chained to a drawer with handcuffs. I dropped to my knees by his side and placed one hand on his throat to check for a pulse. I held my breath. /There!/ It was very erratic, but at least he was alive. Then I fell into "doctor mode", examining him for injuries. I untied the scrap of cloth that blindfolded him and checked for a concussion. Obviously, his nose had been broken. Then I saw the blood leaking from his rectum to coat his thighs. I swallowed in revulsion. I wanted to cry, but I knew I had to be strong in order to help him. I used my cell phone to call 911 and request an ambulance. Until they arrived though, I had to make do with what little I had. I was unsure of how to remove the handcuffs. I tried my own handcuff keys in the hopes that, by some strange fluke, they would work. They didn't. I looked at the key ring in my hand. It held two keys - since we we're partners we each carried the other's handcuff keys - and I stared at that other key for a moment. His key worked. I suddenly realized this was because they were his cuffs and I felt sick. /Who could have done this?/ I wondered. I removed the cuffs gently and rolled him onto his back, bringing his arms down to his sides. I felt a sharp pain of sympathy and disgust when I saw the deep, angry cuts on his wrists that spoke of his futile struggles to escape. I left him briefly to find some towels and wrapped them around the knife that was deeply embedded in his side. I didn't dare remove it, knowing that would unleash a torrent of blood. It would probably have to be surgically removed. I applied pressure to the towels carefully, trying to staunch the bloodflow. He groaned as he started to return to consciousness. "Agent Doggett," I said quietly. "It's me, Scully. Just relax, you're going to be fine, the ambulance should be here soon." He whimpered and tried to bat my hands away from the wound. "Shh...it's okay," I soothed. "I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. I'm sorry, I know it hurts." He had yet to open his eyes, but I knew he was awake...and painfully aware. Tears started to flow from under his closed eyelids and he choked back a sob. I abandoned the towels and moved to cradle his head in my hands. I pressed my cheek to his and whispered in his ear, reassuring him of my presence and telling him he would be all right even though I knew it was a lie. /He was raped, Dana! He may recover physically, but what about mentally?/ The muscles in his arms had been weakened by his ordeal, but he tried to reach for me, trying desperately to pull me closer to him. I gathered him in my arms carefully, mindful of the knife, and held him as he buried his face in my neck and cried. And that's how the EMTs found us. A pregnant, teary-eyed woman cradling a broken, bleeding man in her arms. They prepped him for transport quickly and efficiently. As they were wheeling him to the waiting ambulance he called "Dana!" in a panicked voice as his head bobbed on the gurney, searching for me. I moved to his side and grabbed his hand, squeezing reassuringly. "It's okay, John," somehow, the usual formalities we used to address each other seemed inappropriate given the situation. "I'm right here." "Don't leave..." he pleaded. He was scared. I couldn't blame him, nor could I deny him anything he wanted at that moment. "I won't," I promised. ***** I held his hand all the way to the hospital. The EMTs disappeared and several hospital staff members took over, wheeling John towards the OR. That's when I was told I would have to let go of his hand. I complied, but John refused to release me. The doctor leaned over the gurney until he was in John's line of sight. "Sir? You're going to have to let your wife go." I didn't bother to correct him - people had made that assumption with me and Mulder many times before. "No..." John whimpered, his eyes darting frantically between the people standing around him before locking on me. His eyes pleaded with me then, begging me not to leave him alone. I felt my heart breaking at his helplessness. I couldn't bring myself to abandon him. "Look, I'm a medical doctor. I can show you my credentials if you want. Let me go with him - I promise I won't be in your way but I can gown-up if you want me to." The doctor looked hesitant. "Just until he's anesthesized?" I offered. "All right," he sighed, exasperated. ******* I sat by John's head in one of the hospital's hard plastic chairs as we sat in the prep room waiting for the anesthesiologist to arrive. I gently wiped away the blood that had poured onto his face from his ruined nose with a pad of gauze a nurse had given me. My other hand stroked his hair in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. He remained silent, staring at some random spot on the wall beyond my shoulder. I felt so helpless. I wanted to wake up and discover that this was all a nightmare. But it wasn't. How could someone hurt a fellow human being so much and have so little remorse? When I first met John Doggett, I would have sworn that nothing could have fazed him. This was a man who had stood before me with blood soaking his shirt - so obviously exhausted, I was sure a good breeze would have knocked him over - and asked "Are you okay?" I couldn't begin to imagine what he must have gone through to transform him into the frightened, sobbing man I had held in my arms that day. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and throw things. Most of all, I wanted to find the fucker who had done this to my partner and put a bullet in his brain. But I knew none of this would really help John. So I sat by his side, cleaning blood from his face, stroking his hair and murmuring comforting bullshit while a little voice in the back of my head countered my words with reality. "It's okay." /The hell it is, look at him!/ "You're going to be all right. You'll feel better soon." /Yeah...maybe in five or ten years!/ "I'll be here when you wake up. We're gonna help you through this." /Oh for crying out loud, Dana! He was raped! How do you think you're going to help him? And who's we? You and Mulder? Somehow I don't think a paranoid insomniac recovering from an alien abduction and three-month near-death experience is going to be much help!/ The hand petting John's hair started to shake. Then my other hand joined in. I covered my mouth before a gasping sob could escape and shut my eyes, trying desperately to keep from crying. /He needs you to be strong, Dana,/ I thought. /He needs you. Don't let him down./ A whimper of distress brought my attention back to John. He was looking at me worriedly, trying to force his still-weakened muscles to reach his arm out towards me - to touch me. I felt a sort of relief then. This was my John, coming up through layers of pain and trauma to ask me if I was okay. I picked up his hand in mine and brought it to my mouth for a gentle kiss. Then I pressed our clasped hands to my breast and resumed stroking his hair with my free hand. I looked into his eyes and saw the question still hovering there. I nodded. "I'm okay." Satisfied, he closed his eyes and fell mercifully asleep. *********** DOGGETT: She was still holding my hand when I woke up. I was grateful for the gesture - it told me I was safe. Obviously I wasn't even safe in my own home anymore, but it was okay because my partner was watching my back. When I opened my eyes, I saw that I had been moved to the operating room. Scully - now dressed in a surgical gown and mask - was standing beside me. "Hey," she said softly. "The anesthesiologist should be here any second...it's almost over." /Which part?/ I thought, but only nodded. I was in so much pain I wasn't sure how I had been able to sleep. The knife was still in my side, as it needed to be removed surgically. I was beginning to rethink my position on cruel and unusual punishment. "How are you holding up," she asked. My voice had taken a lot of abuse since the...attack. Screaming...crying...it had all taken its toll, but I tried to speak anyway. At that point, it was the least painful thing I could endure. "It hurts," I managed in a weak rasp. Scully looked like she might cry. I wanted to ask her what she was upset about, but I didn't have the strength to do anything more than keep my eyes open. "I know, sweetheart, but I promise you only have to deal with it a little while longer." /Sweetheart? Where the hell did that come from? Oh, God, I must be dying! No, wait...why would I be in an operating room if they've given up hope? Maybe I'm already dead and this is all a dream. No...I'm in way to much pain for this to be imagined. Maybe I've died and gone to hell. But if this is hell, why is Scully holding my hand, comforting me and calling me "sweetheart"?/ I was completely confused. Scully leaned over and kissed my cheek softly. Then she pressed her cheek to mine and whispered in my ear. "It's okay. Just relax, soon you'll wake up in a nice hospital room with your very own nurse to drive up a wall." I tried to smile, but it was a lost cause. "I'll be there when you wake up, I promise. I won't leave you." I had long since lost the energy to cry, but as she finished talking, I felt a couple of tears slide free and disappear into my hair. I heard a door open. Scully jumped and turned to face the newcomer like a guilty child. She never released my hand though. I barely remember the anesthesiologist talking to me. Thankfully, Scully was able to answer his questions for me. In my weakened condition, the anesthetic hit me like a mack truck. The last thing I remember is Scully's hand running through my hair as I went under. ***** THE END I promise sequels! I just can't promise when I will finish them. You can read my stories as well as others at my website: www.geocities.com/diandrahollman/thex_filesoutlet.html Come and visit! Please! If I don't get a submission soon for my picture-of-the-month feature, I may go crazy!