TITLE: Corrigenda (part 12/?)
GENRE: WIP, MSR, A, Post-IWTBSUMMARY: see part I
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Corrigenda is a Latin phrase
meaning “things to be corrected";
sorry for all the grammatical errors,
I am posting this as fast as I write it
so there is ZERO editing done...consider yourself warned! :)
WARNING: THERE IS A PORTION OF THIS STORY THAT IS N
Tony sat in the basement, one eye on Wedding Crashers playing on his 20 inch computer monitor and the other on the video feedback monitor that currently showed Dana's sleeping form beneath the comforter. He laughed boisterously at Will Ferrell's loser character, Chaz, and tossed back another shot: the once three-quarters full bottle was now less than one-quarters full.
He had wanted to go back to the main house to sleep in his bed, but had known that wasn't a safe move with that asshole Mulder watching the ranch. Tony stroked his finger tenderly along the shaft of his gun from where it gleamed at him on the desk. It would be so easy to just go out there and put a bullet in the man's brain...but it was the after that was the problem. So, he had holed himself up in the stuffy basement, watching a comedy and Dana's room in nothing but his shorts while Jack Daniel's soothed his tensions.
There was a movement from the video monitor that correlated exactly with a scream from above. Shit. Now is not the time, Dana.
He watched as she struggled with the comforter, getting more deeply tangled with the material as she fought. Dana's legs kicked and thrashed as another bone-chilling scream echoed through the house. Tony, unable to stand it anymore, grabbed his gun and keychain and stumbled up the cement staircase to her room.
Dana's screams became moans during the two minutes he spent just trying to fit the right key in the lock. Maybe the alcohol hadn't been the best idea, he considered while closing the door behind him.
He approached her bedside as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake her tonight of all nights. Not after what had happened outside. As carefully as he was able, he crawled onto the area of the bed beside her and began pulling the comforter off her. This was his usual routine, as it kept her from physically battling whatever demons her mind currently provided. Normally, tonight being no exception, she would continue to sob or scream or moan and throw the occasional elbow, but her legs would have stilled. The only solution Tony had found meant crawling on top of Dana to secure both of her arms, then rolling off to the side to hold her until the cries grew faint as a peaceful sleep would finally came over her.
And that is exactly what he did...until he heard the man's name.
Mulder sat in his car and cursed silently when, sifting blindly through the cellophane bag, he found he had gone through his entire stash of seeds. It had been over two hours since he had seen Patterson cross the dark ranch, presumably going back to watch over the woman he held captive. He grinded his teeth at the thought of what might be transcending behind closed doors.
Scully was a genius. There was no doubt about it: coming up with that clue in the insanely short amount of time she had to prepare it was nothing short of amazing. When he had googled a German to English translator site, he had only to try two different spellings of the word to see that it meant "do not surrender". Mulder looked at it once and though he understood the meaning, he wondered why she had chosen that particular phrase. So he turned the words around again and again, until growing so mad with frustration that he began laughing aloud at himself. And, then he pulled up the site Thesaurus.com and entered the word "surrender".
And all the oxygen in his lungs seemed to vanish. For under the verb entry the definition said "give up".
Nicht aufgeben: Don't give up.
Mulder stared out the windshield, concentrating on the pitch black air to keep from glancing -- again -- at the gun in the seat with the bag of what had contained his only source of protein in two days.
He sat, impotence overwhelming him again as the emotional cycle reached its beginning for at least the third time since he had left their home. What the hell am I doing just sitting here anyway? Waiting for Patterson to come out in animal skins, waving his club around the air, grunting and pointing? Do I call Skinner? And what do I tell him, "Hey Walt, I saw Scully today and...oh yeah, I followed Patterson out to the ranch he didn't tell you about and...what? Oh, well I waited for him to come home...what do you mean 'how did I know where he lived?' Haven't you ever heard of Google?" The cycle continued on and self-doubt renewed itself. What if Scully's clue was metaphorical? What if she's not being held prisoner, but rather just wants me to prove that I still love her? Shit, that's dumb...even for you, Fox. Why the hell would she...
As he glared, he could have sworn he saw something move in the darkness. The little hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. Was it Patterson again? Would he really have left her unattended now that he knew -- and this much Mulder was sure of -- that he was being watched? He blinked, thinking maybe it had just been his tired eyes playing tricks on him. Nothing. Mulder let out a deep sigh of frustration and peeked instinctively at his Sig again. The edgy feeling settled further, charging down his spine, through his limbs, and out to the tips of his fingers and toes. He shuddered.
Something was not right.
It was one of those indescribable moments of hypersensitivity that had long ago earned him the nickname, Spooky. But clever monikers aside, the feeling had saved countless lives: his and the woman's inside being two of those.
He grabbed his gun and shoved the door open.
WARNING: The next part of this story is VERY NC-17 for graphic violence and explicit sexual assault. I have made this portion a different color, so that those inclined can skip past it.
TEN MINUTES EARLIER
He was combing his left hand through Dana's long, night-darkened hair while his right one kept her body cocooned tightly to his chest. As he shushed her and began humming a random melody in effort to soothe her, Dana sobbed, "Don't, Mulder" -- Tony froze -- "love you...don't...up on me."
"No," Tony growled. No, no, no! How can she still be hung-up on that asshole after he left her today! You're mine now, Dana, not his! I'll show you...I'll fucking show you...
He rolled on top of her -- the monster inside him clawing and scratching as it sensed that freedom was close now -- and attacked her throat.
"Wha?" Dana moaned, still half-asleep.
He nipped and sucked the soft flesh just below her chin down to where the plunging V-neck of her tank-top met the skin of her breasts. Holding her arms effectively out of the way with one hand, he squeezed the soft silk-covered mound.
And Scully screamed.
Re-securing her now thrashing body with his, he ripped the top down the middle and yanked it from her body in two quick motions.
"TONY, PLEASE! Don't do this! PLEASE! You promised, remember?" she squeaked, grasping for straws in which to break his focus. "You said you wouldn't hurt me!"
She could see the whites of his teeth in the darkness as he grinned down upon her in arousal.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Dana," he panted and attempted to place a kiss to her nose but she quickly averted her face. "Just love you. Love you so much."
Scully wrinkled her nose as the smell of alcohol spread through the air around her head. He'sdrunkhe'sdrunkhe'sdrunk...oh God, please no...
Dealing with a traumatized maniac was hard enough to reason with, but now he was in even less control of himself. In that same moment, she felt where the majority of his control lay and screamed out again.
"Dammit! You can't holler like that, Dana....shhh...just shhh...oh Jesus," he groaned as he grinded himself against her again.
"Tony, please--" She paused as he shifted his weight the slightest bit. He was searching with his free arm for something. When Scully began trying to reason with him again, she was immediately and forcibly silenced by the silk pajama top he had recently stripped from her. He shoved it so deep that when she tried to push it out with her tongue, she inadvertently caused herself to bring it deeper.
Her lungs burned as she fought against the obstruction until the only option she had was to surrender so that she could begin breathing through her nose.
Somewhere in the back of Tony's mind he demanded this to stop...whether it was the alcohol or the pure need to feel himself inside her he didn't know, but his body couldn't stop. He could feel her shoulders shaking as her arms continued to wriggle, but instead of feeling remorse he became even more intent on showing her how good he would make her feel.
The next part was difficult given his drink-addled sense of balance. He had to hold one of her legs still between both of his -- her free leg kicking wildly, obviously hoping to make contact with something that would bring him intense pain -- while he yanked and pulled at her pants and underwear until they, too, ripped down the middle.
"Shhh, baby," he cooed even though he had made very sure that she would no longer be able to verbalize her distaste for his idea of love-making. He positioned his lower body between her legs that were still trying to clench together and force him away. "This'll feel good," Tony slurred. "I promise, Dane...only hurt for a little."
Scully couldn't help it: she was crying. She had been trained for this exact type of situation many times, and all the experts said the same thing: let it happen. She knew it was inevitable. He would rape her and then maybe he would leave her alone for a while. It was all she could hope for now.
That's what all the experts said. But Dana Katherine Scully was nothing if she wasn't stubborn.
Tony reached between her legs and roughly began searching for an opening.
Scully wanted to leave her mind, imagine herself in a better place. A place with Mulder. Mulder. The tears burned furiously down her cheeks and she looked around the room desperate for something to lock onto. Something to fight for in this sudden hell.
"Oh...shit...yeah, that's it..." Tony whispered as he found what he was looking for and pulled his hand away. And then he was pressing himself into her.
Don't, Dana...Don't think about it...Find a way out...there has to...Oh God, it hurts! Stop! Stop!
And, as if her eyes had gained some sort of infrared capability, she saw it: lying right there beside her.
As Tony started moving faster, his grip on her arms loosened with sweat. If she pulled free, she would get less than a second to grab it. He moaned again, and she went completely limp. His hand slid slightly and she pushed with everything she had and freed her right arm. With speed that could only have come from pure adrenaline, she brought the butt of the gun crashing into his temple.
He landed with a thud on top of her.
As Mulder approached the gate, he thought he saw a flash of movement in the unlit kitchen. He heard the sound of a door being opened and froze as he waited expectantly for someone to come out of the house...but no one did. A few seconds later, the bay window was awash with light.
He crept up slowly to the house when the sounds of sirens sounded in the distance. Mulder interpreted this to mean he had less time to get inside so he sprinted up to the side of the small house, ducking beneath the bay window in effort to get to the door. The sirens grew louder and now he could make out the blur of blue and red lights flashing two hills down the road.
The front door was ajar. He straightened his gun arm so that it was even with his shoulder, prepared for the inevitable and immediate confrontation, and pushed his way inside.
But the room was empty.
He kept his gun trained as he surveyed the entire kitchen, adjacent living room, and the immediately visible area of the hallway. He noticed the wireless phone laying haphazardly beside the charger, but other than that, nothing out of place. Mulder walked toward the hallway to continue his search and the ceiling burst into red and blue flames; he watched in horror as two cruisers pulled into the drive in front of the ranch.
Shit! Patterson called the cops.
As he watched the policemen get out of their cars, he noticed an ambulance pulling up behind them.
What the hell? Why would they have sent an amb--u--his stomach dropped into his shoes-- Scully!
He raced down the hallway and came to a screeching halt two feet from the entrance of a doorway.
"Ungh..." a deep voice groaned. "Wharrrthefuuuck?"
Mulder pressed himself to the wall, gun tucked under his chin, as he heard heavy footsteps in the same room now just on the other side of the barrier.
"Dane? Daaaa-na?" There were more, quicker footfalls, followed by silence, and then, "Shiiiiiit!"
Around the corner emerged an irate-looking Tony Patterson -- dressed only in boxers and sporting a gash on the side of his head that oozed a dark red.
The image that had replayed so sadistically in Mulder's mind for days rolled behind his eyes, but now with a fresh perspective. Scully had attacked Tony. Who was nearly nude. In the bedroom. His grip on the trigger tightened as his stomach heaved.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"
Tony glared in bewilderment at the man who was holding a gun in his face at arm's length, not seeing in the dim light the sheen that covered Mulder's forehead or how sickly green his skin had suddenly turned. "Do?"
Just then, Mulder could hear the commotion of people entering the open door and, keeping his gun pointed at Tony's head, moved backwards into the bedroom and flipped on the light. The sounds of the cops were getting closer and he felt comfortable enough to leave Tony with them.
There was no one in the room. Had she fled to some other part of the house? It wasn't that large, the majority of it he had already searched before coming down the hall. He saw an entrance to a smaller room and ran towards it. Again, Mulder turned on the lights to find nothing there but a toilet, shower, sink, and a door that appeared to seal the closet.
He could hear Tony's loud and vulgar protests behind him as the cops yelled harsh commands for him to surrender. Mulder knew he had seconds at the most before he would be found and questioned. He darted for the closet door and threw it wide.
And his heart seemed to literally shred itself with the sight he was presented.
Scully, her shirt on backwards, nude below that, a pair of jeans clutched in one hand while the other pointed a gun straight into his face. Her eyes bugged wide as she realized who she was looking at. The gun dropped dangerously to the ground as she rushed head-long into his chest.
The sound of police bursting into the room, bellowing for Mulder to put his hands up was the only thing that could have kept him from enveloping her in his arms until the world stopped spinning.
"No" Scully choked. "No, it-it's okay. He's not th-the guy. He's okay."
They both looked toward the sound on Mulder's right to see a young, female police officer eyeing them warily.
Scully held up her hand for a second before backing into the closet and closing it. She emerged less than ten seconds later with her jeans on.
The cop had moved close enough to Mulder that he was able to identify the name on her badge: Kennedy. "M'am, on the phone you said you'd--" she glanced from Scully to Mulder and back, "you'd been hurt."
Oh God, no. No, please, not this, he thought as the urge to wrap her up in himself heightened. Instead, Mulder looked down at Scully -- who had kept a good distance of over five feet after getting her pants on -- and saw her eyes squeeze shut: putting up the only wall she had for the moment.
"We have the paramedics here to attend to you."
Scully nodded and then her eyes flew open, darting past Mulder into the bedroom. "Did you find him?"
"Yes, m'am. He's being dealt with by my partner and two other officers at the moment." Officer Kennedy glanced again at Mulder.
"Sir, may I ask--"
"He's my husband," Scully interjected with a ferocity of which he didn't know she was currently capable.
"Ah. Well then, I will leave you two here while I go get you some help."
"Thank you," they both replied.
As Mulder stared at Scully in the silence, he was reminded of a moment so very long ago. He had tracked Donnie Pfaster down at Pfaster's mother's house, just in time to find him straddling a bound and gagged Scully. While he helped remove her restraints, he saw just how strong the woman before him was. The fact that she allowed herself some release, with him, in the moments afterward only amplified that observation.
"I'm okay," she spoke at last.
He thought about that. "Yeah, well, I'm not."
"Sorry about the husband thing, I thought that it would provide the best explanation given the situation."
Wait. She was apologizing to him? She had just been -- he skipped over the word, unable to face the horror that had happened on his watch -- and she was apologizing for claiming that he was something that he would give anything to be to her. She was worried about his uneasiness? This was insane!
He was about to express his opinion when she spoke again.
"Actually, I think it might be best if you wait outside--"
Her pleading eyes stopped him cold.
"Okay, I'll be waiting in the ambulance."
She was looking at the floor as she nodded.
His right hand quivered as it longed to touch her again, but he doubted that was the best idea. Turning slowly, he began walking out of the room and missed the tear that ran down her cheek as she watched him go.
END PART 12/?