Date sent:        Thu, 6 Nov 1997 13:02:06 -0500 (EST)
From:             AGillian21@aol.com
Subject:          "Like A Monster" (1/1)

Title: Like A Monster
Author: Noelle Lundgren
Rating: R 
Classification: VA
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Mulder/Scully; Rape.
Summary: Still in the hospital, Mulder ponders the feelings leading up to
the event that took place in the office. A follow-up to "With Or Without
Consent."

Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully can go on back home to Chris Carter. I
just like to borrow them from time to time. That's all.

Note: After "With Or Without Consent," I got quite a bit of mail
suggesting, or requesting, or just wondering about a "part 2." "It needs
another part to it," and "please don't just *leave* it there" people told me
again and again. So this (along with "...And It Felt Like A Kiss") is for:
Jenny, Aileen, Kristine, Marisa, Lore, Monica, Jenny B., Michelle, Gina,
Martha, and all the others who wondered about a follow-up. :-)
Oh, and if you're one of those who were pissed about "With Or Without
Consent," don't read this: I know you can yell, you don't need to prove it.
:-)


"Like A Monster"
by Noelle Lundgren

"Was she asking for it
Was she asking nice
She was asking for it
Did she ask you twice..."

--C. Love

Agent Mulder lay in his hospital bed thinking, immediately following
the brief conversation with his partner. The bed was about four inches
too short for him, and his feet hung off the end just enough so that he
was aware of it.

The memory that instantly flashed into his mind was dark; a dark act
taking place in a dark room. 

==========
The lack of windows forced the occupant of the basement office to
result to several small lamps as a light source. Placed in different areas,
at different levels, they cast black shadows everywhere. The location
was just as ugly as the corruption taking place there. 

There was something horrible about the look on her face. It came from
her knowledge of what was going to happen next. She could imagine
the entire scene in her head. She could see the next blow coming before
he raised his hand; could hear the next word even before his lips parted.

Crushed under his weight, pinned against the wall, she was pondering
the situation. She was asking questions, looking for answers. He could
see the confusion and the fear in her eyes. He could also see the tears. 
For a brief instant, he felt very sorry for her. She was supposed to be
able to trust him.

He felt awful remembering how flustered and afraid his partner had
been. She was so used to being strong. When she was suddenly
rendered powerless with the fear and shock that resulted from what he
was doing to her, he suddenly felt evil for just an instant. It was
frightening to see her hurt so badly and know that the attacker was no
one other than himself.

But it was also very thrilling. 

Her eyes were wide, pleading with him. She was instantly weak and
tiny, and in under his control. She seemed to have been magically
transformed, thrown backwards through time, and returned to a little-girl
state of being. To see that look with a girl--not a woman, but a delicate,
slender girl--made him feel powerful and strong. 

==========
Agent Mulder shut his eyes for a moment at the memory. He had just
watched his partner leave his hospital room. He had been following her
bathrobe and her shiny red hair with his eyes all the way to the door. 
She'd wasted no time getting away from his bed, quickening her pace the
closer she got to the door. She never looked back. She didn't say
anything more to him. 

Mulder had been both silently wishing that she would just hurry up and
get the hell out of the room, and begging that she would come back and
let him explain.

He shook his head. She didn't want an explanation. Any explanation he
tried to give now would end up sounding like he was trying to excuse his
actions. And there was no excuse for what he'd done to her.

"Mulder, do me a favor and don't speak to me. I think we should just
not...interact with each other for a while," she had said to him before
she'd left the room. She had spoken slowly, carefully, looking for just
the right words. She had found them, Mulder decided.

Interact. The word had disturbed him. It made his heart jump into his
throat, especially because of the way she'd said it: like it was physically
painful to get it out of her mouth. And the way she'd paused before
saying it, looking for a word... 

She'd come up with "interact." 

Mulder swallowed, trying to get his heart back where it belonged, but it
just dropped into the pit in his stomach. It felt like he had gulped down
a grapefruit-sized stone. 

I think we should just not...interact...

He realized why that word upset him so much. When she'd said it, it had
brought back yet another mental picture of what had happened in the
office. Close-ups of the participants.

His partner...

...and himself.

==========
There she was, The Victim, blood running from her mouth and nose
shiny and ruby-colored under the dim light. Her eyes glittered with
tears. She was silent, except for a few small whimpers in the back of
her throat. The look on her face had to be that of the earth's most
tortured creature. She was hideous. From all of her bumps and bruises,
you'd think she had been hit by a truck.

Of course, the next image was that of her attacker. The Savage Beast
crushing his prey between his body and the office wall. His eyes wide
and evil, his face flushed and on fire, and his body, suddenly bigger and
more powerful than he'd ever known it to be. He could snap her in two
with very little trouble if he'd had the desire to. He saw this
bloodthirsty, anger-driven animal punch his victim, scream at her, and
then force himself on her. 

==========
Mulder shut his eyes, trying to make the memory disappear. But it
wasn't the gory scene in the monster movie. He couldn't just close his
eyes and ignore it until it was over. 

"Mulder, please--" Her voice echoed in his mind. So scared, so
helpless, and so confused. He'd never heard her sound like that before. 
"There's no way you can--"

It wasn't a movie. He was acting like a monster.

==========
Mulder had always liked women, and enjoyed their company. He'd had
his share of girlfriends and lovers, but he'd never met a woman like
Dana Scully. She was small, fiery, and determined. She'd had a lot in
her life that she'd had to deal with, and she'd hid a lot of darkness inside.

She'd also hid a lot of fear. He always wanted to make that fear
resurface.

Scully's mask was strong and fearless. She had power, and control, and
she didn't need help. Lovers were something that she didn't seem to
need. She could look into the eyes of danger and pure evil, and emerge
seemingly unharmed. As strong as ever.

>From the moment he'd first seen her, he'd been intimidated by her, as
much as he hated to admit it. She could make him feel stupid,
insignificant, small, and most of all, wrong, with just a comment, a
gesture, or a look. Superiors didn't confess to it, but they adored her. 
The perfect little scientist-medical-examiner-angel-who-could-keep-
"Spooky"-Mulder-in-line. The FBI's gem. 

Mulder despised her for that. She was sensible, and scientific, therefore,
she was right. No one could trust *him;* he was too *weird,* too
*spooky,* too EVERYthing for them. He couldn't do anything without
getting himself into some sort of trouble.

And Scully stood there, watching it all, strong and emotionless as ever. 

==========
It had been churning around in his mind the night before.

How could he prove the he was more powerful than she was? How
could he show her? How could he *control* her?

He knew what he had to do. He had to humiliate her. He had to make
her *feel* his strength. Make her know it. She always wanted proof...
He'd give it to her. 

"Mulder, we need more evidence--"

Aren't scars goddamn fucking evidence, bitch?

Everything about her was perfect. If only he could scar that, if only he
could butcher it, if he could lay it out, do as he pleased with it over and
over, and then leave it to rot...

He'd dreamt of hurting her, of raping her, and even of killing her once in
a while, but Mulder hadn't ever imagined that he'd play out one of his
visions. Driving to work the morning before the incident, the idea of
touching her sickened him. Anything he did to her might be warped and
perverted in her mind to the point where it could be mistaken for
affection. 

Never, he told himself. He could never let her think that. He didn't, and
he never would have feelings for her, decided, as he drove in a blind
rage.

==========
Fuck her! he thought. Fuck the bitch to hell! 

Thoughts were flying through his mind, busy as the hospital outside the
closed door of his room.

She was asking for it! It was her fault. She'd forced him to do it with
that damned attitude of hers. There was a time where he'd felt sorry for
her, but not anymore. She didn't deserve sympathy! He'd tried to
apologize, and she'd practically spit in his face. Fuck her! As far as he
was concerned, the rotten little cunt could drown in her own filth!

He cursed her repeatedly, with all the swear words he'd ever learned. He
delighted at memories of her fear and her embarrassment. He imagined
cutting her into tiny pieces...

...but as he lay in the hospital bed, he couldn't stop the tears from
continuously streaming down his cheeks.

==========
The End. 
==========