Disclaimer: Never had em, never will.
Author's notes: the request for Scully to whup Mulder's butt following
his Diana tryst was an appealing one.  This has bad language and
violence and all sorts of disturbing things.  Happy Valentine's Day.

Please tell me what you think.

Revenge
by Megan Reilly
eponine119@worldnet.att.net
February 14, 1999

	*Thwack!* 
	*THWACK!*
	*THWWWWAAA 
	*Thw -*
	"Ow,"  My voice cracks but I manage to get the sound out.
	"What was that?"  The bitch leans down, lowering her ear closer to my
mouth.  Just a little lower, dear, I think, and I'll grab you and get
you on the ground and see how you like it.
	"That hurts." My whisper is pathetic.  It's bound to garner sympathy,
which is good.  I just wish it didn't sound so pathetic when I didn't
want it to.
	"It's supposed to," she points out, with a sarcasm I never knew she had
in her. That Scully, she's a hot little ball of fire when she gets
something up her butt.  Not me, of course, and I think that's what she's
so upset about.  Her foot makes another pass, at my ribs this time, and
I admire her leg strength while trying not to scream.  I didn't realize
before that you can actually hear bones crack.  It'd be kind of cool if
they weren't, you  know, my bones.
	"what's this about?" I wheeze.  I can taste blood. There is a pain like
the mother of god I don't believe in, in my chest, and I'm pretty sure
it's my lung deflating.  I've heard that hurts like a son of a bitch
when they reinflate it.  I'm sure Scully's heard that too.  At least, I
hope so. If there's hope they'll hurt me putting me back together, she
might let me live. Otherwise, I'm not looking forward to being embalmed
alive.  
	"That. Fucking. Whore. Fowley."  She punctuates her sentences nicely. 
I expect her shoe to break through into my brain any second as she kicks
me in the head until we're both gasping.  This is almost like sex, only
not as much fun for me.
	"Oh, her."
	"Yes, her!"  Scully screams, going wild.  She grinds her high heeled
shoe into my hand.  I'm numb and it barely makes an impression on me. 
I've curled into a ball so she can't get my privates again, so I figure
this is all going to end soon.  "Who wrote you the viagara prescription,
Mulder, I thought I was your personal doctor."
	"Whoa, that's a little -" I can't get up.  Both of my kneecaps appear
to be made of jello.  Good thing I gave her that keychain for her
birthday a couple of years ago, or she'd still have her swiss army
knife. God only knows what she could saw through with that.  "Son of a
bitch!" My voice is pretty high. Higher than hers, actually, at the
moment.  Scary stuff.  At least I don't need a speech therapist,
Scully.  "who's a little sexually frustrated?" I ask her.
	She bends down over me, like she's going to fuck me while I'm down. If
she thinks I'm going to get it up for her, ever, she's got another think
coming. I've seen her puking and smelling and in the middle of the night
when she hasn't showered in three days. I've seen her sick, well, high,
sleeping, bingeing, starving, and everything in between. I've even seen
her shop for shoes.  How she thinks I could have any interest in her at
all when the mystery is gone is beyond me. I am a man, after all.  Poor,
pathetic women. So weak, always thinking about *love*...
	She takes my head in her hands. Case in point. She feels bad about what
she's done.  There's an almost tender look on her face. I'll try not to
cringe as she apologizes. If she kisses my cheek, I'll think of Diana. 
She's still a good lay after all these years, you know.  Got me off in
fifteen seconds. Damn, I'm good.  Still got it, just like when I was a
kid. Not every man can, you know.
	"Uuhhhnnnhhhh!"  There's something positively sexual in Scully's grunt
as she leans over me, her breasts heaving with the effort.  I told you
she was frustrated.
	I don't really feel my head as she thrusts it against the train track. 
Everything is oddly separate.  The metal, its hardness, my bone, its
weakness, how oddly delicate the brain tissue can be. And wow. Vision.
Who knew you could lose it so quickly?
	Scully's still grunting. I can hear her, but everything's black.  Not
just in the visual sense.  Hearing is the only sense I have left. 
You're going to go to jail for this for a long time, I think, but can't
make the words.  I have no idea how to even try.
	"What's going on here?"  Skinner! Help me.  She's gone mad!
	"Sir, someone's hurt Mulder very badly.  I got here and found him lying
on the tracks.  I was trying to help him, but he needs an ambulance." 
That lying bitch.
	"I'll take care of him. You get the men who did this."
	"Yes, sir."  She's breathing through her mouth. I can hear it as she
walks away.  Skinner must touch me, call for an ambulance, but all I can
hear is Scully's disgusting mouth breathing as she pretends to be
concerned.  She's no prize, that's for sure.

xx two months later xx

	"Open up for the airplane!"  His eyes track the shiny silver glint of
the spoon as she waves it back and forth in front of his face, waiting
for him to open his mouth to accomodate her.  "He really is recovering
nicely." Scully turns her head to say to someone Mulder can't see.  They
weren't able to do anything about his peripheral vision.  There was a
lot of things they weren't able to do anything about.
	He opens his mouth and Scully deposits the payload - oatmeal, this time
- inside.  He'd been hoping for apricot baby food, his favorite.  But he
had no way to convey to her that it was his favorite.  His eyes lit up
any time anyone came near and touched him or fed him or cleaned him. 
Just like a baby.
	Scully'd wanted to have children.
	Skinner just nodded, out of Mulder's line of sight, and slipped out of
the room.  It brought him to tears, sometimes, thinking about the waste
of a good agent. Mulder's brains had practically been glue when he got
to the hospital.  The thugs had done more than a professional job. But
Mulder was lucky. The assassin hadn't killed him, most likely because
she was a woman wearing a size seven shoe.  And everyone knew women
didn't have the strength to kill men. Not men like Mulder.
	"That's good, Fox.  Good boy."  Scully wiped off the spoon and set it
down, ruffling his hair.  His eyes followed her everywhere.  He sure did
love her now, didn't he.  She curled her fingers into his hair and his
eyes turned questioning.  She was almost hurting him, and he didn't
understand.  He was a puppy in that respect.  So much he didn't
understand.  "Don't fuck other women, Fox," she warned.
	She didn't have much to worry about.  Once she released him, the frown
worked off his face and he was smiling again within five minutes.  And
he was quiet.  Scully glanced up from her magazine.  Yeah, she liked him
this way.

the end.
-- 
eponine119@worldnet.att.net		
Megan