It was happening again. He came to her every night. She was alone, and back in her apartment. She would hear the door open, she would hear his footsteps as they approached her bedroom door. She would wait in fear for him to stand over her bed. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She could only watch in horror as he climbed on top of her and began ripping her clothes away. And he would rape her, over and over again. His hands would roam over her body, and he would say things to her. And then he would laugh. He laughed at her, for not having the strength to stop him. And when he was finally finished using her, he would press the gun against her forehead. "Wake up, Monica." he said. She struggled, as his arms closed tightly around her. The more she fought him, the tighter he held her. She finally began to scream, and to cry. "Stop! Stop it! Get your hands off me!" she cried. "Monica...wake up!" Finally, Monica's eyes flew open, and she realized that she was not in her apartment, alone, but in John's bedroom. It was his arms that held her. She began to sob as he held her. "Shh...it's okay, Monica...it's okay..." She turned over in the bed. She had to see his face, to know that it was really him. His concerned blue eyes looked back at her. Tears streamed down her face. John sat up slightly in the bed, and pulled her to him. She went to him without reluctance, and sobbed uncontrollably. He rocked gently, and let her cry. "It's just a dream...you're safe...you're okay." He said soothingly, as he smoothed her hair away from her face. After several minutes, her crying subsided. The dream was the worst so far, even just after the attack. She held tightly onto John, and let his comforting arms soothe away the nightmare. John lay back down finally, and hoped that Monica would fall back asleep, this time without the dreams. But Monica couldn't sleep. She didn't want to. She felt safe here, in his arms, and to go to sleep again would mean to leave them. She looked up at him. He looked down at her lovingly, trying to channel all of the emotion he felt for her in one expression. The words he had said before had not been enough. It would never be enough. He fell more and more in love with her each day, even when each day that he woke next to her, he realized that she could not love him in return - not until she had healed. But he would never give up. He would wait as long as it took. But she looked at him in the most unusual way. Monica was powerless to stop herself. Something inside her craved him so deeply. She reached up with her hand and touched his face. He flinched slightly in surprise. But he didn't stop her when she moved closer and kissed him softly and slowly on the lips. It was a long, passionate kiss, like most first kisses are. But once Monica had tasted his lips, she began to lose herself. Her nightmares disappeared. She only wanted to feel his warm lips again, and then again. Her hand moved down his neck, down his arm to his chest. Likewise, his hands began to make their way down to the dip of her waist, her hip. Monica sighed. His touch felt good to her, it felt right. Her hand traveled down his stomach. John shivered slightly as he felt her fingertip slide across the length of his erect penis. His desire for her was immeasurable. He inhaled as his hand brushed against the inside of her thigh. Monica's eyes flew open, and she moved quickly out of John's reach. He sat up in the bed and stared at her, confused for a moment. But he quickly realized his mistake. He lowered his head and sighed. "Jesus, Monica...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...I didn't think..." Monica shook her head and looked very frustrated. "No, John...." she ran a hand through her hair. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known that...that would make me uncomfortable. I guess *I* didn't even know." she said, and then placed her hand on his arm to reassure him. He nodded, but there was sadness in his eyes. "I don't want it to be like this for you. Even if...even if it wasn't me touching you, Monica. I hate to think that you'll always be like this." She sighed again, something she did a lot lately. "I'm sure...this...will be hard for awhile, but...I can't see it going on forever. I mean...do you know how long I've wanted to be in bed with you?" Monica laughed softly and John grinned. "I think maybe we should have stopped at kissing...for now." she said, and moved closer to him. They lay down together, and Monica laid her head on John's shoulder. After a few minutes, John spoke: "You know...I've wanted to be in bed with you a LOT longer than you've wanted to be in bed with me." Monica snorted. "Whatever. You didn't even know I existed in the beginning." "Not true." "Please. You were obsessed with Agent Scully. Admit it." John rolled his eyes. "Oh, God. Yes, I was concerned for her and her son...doesn't mean that I was obsessed with her. She's got another man's baby, for cryin' out loud." Monica smiled. "If she were the last woman on earth, would you sleep with her?" John grinned. "Well...yeah..." Monica gasped. "But not if you were here." John said. "Scully's a beautiful woman, but not really my type." Monica looked up at him. "What's your type?" "Well, Scully's kind of...technical sometimes. Dry. I don't think she really knows how to have a good time. Of course, that's gotta be Mulder's fault. I like a woman who always keeps me guessing. Keeps me on my toes, so I never know what to expect. I like a little bit of craziness mixed in with a small amount of practicality." Monica shook her head. "So, you like women who are *completely* different from yourself." John gasped. "I know how to have a good time." Monica gave him a sly look. "So do I." John grinned back at her and narrowed his eyes. "Aren't I supposed to be the horny one?" Monica laughed. "Not really. You're past your sexual prime...I'm just getting to mine." John nodded with a smirk. "I'll show you who's past their prime." *** When A.D. Skinner arrived at his office on Wednesday morning, an anxious Brad Follmer was waiting for him. He had files in his hands, and he looked like hell. His tie was missing, and the top buttons of his once-crisp white shirt were open. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot. He leapt from his chair when he saw Skinner come into the reception area of his office. "A.D. Skinner! I've got some things to show you, things I've been going over." He said, walking alongside Skinner into his office. "What did you find?" Skinner asked, setting down his briefcase. Follmer spread the files out over his desk. "Previous rapes that may be connected to Monica's." Follmer said. Skinner looked up at him. "Have you been here all night, Follmer?" He asked. Follmer hadn't been expecting that question, but he answered Skinner: "Well, yes." Skinner blinked and took one of the files. Follmer pointed to the picture of a woman in the file. "This is MaryAnn Reynolds. She was raped two months ago by a man fitting the same vague description that Agent Reyes gave. And here are four more women that have been attacked since then. And one more attack last night." Follmer said, handing Skinner the files. Skinner looked perturbed as he examined them. "What makes you think that all these attacks are related?" Skinner asked. "It's true that the descriptions are all similar, but such is the case for most rape cases." Follmer nodded. "I know, but I think it has something to do with these women's chosen professions." "Profession?" Skinner repeated. Follmer opened the files. "This woman, MaryAnn Reynolds, was a judge. Another woman, Brook Coleman, was a lawyer. This woman," Follmer said, pointing to another picture, "was a detective. And the woman that was attacked last night was a doctor." Skinner took off his glasses. "You think this man raped these women because they have...important jobs?" Follmer nodded. "I think this man is somehow obsessed with women who hold high-ranking positions in the community, and that's how he chooses his victims. I'm no profiler, either, but I'm guessing that this guy would be some kind of blue-collar average guy. Maybe one of them turned him down for a date or something." Skinner sat back in his chair. "I'm impressed." "Thank you, Assistant Director." Follmer said, giving him a tired, but triumphant smile. Skinner gathered all of the files together and picked up the phone. "I'm going to call Agent Doggett and fill him in on this." Skinner said, and then looked at Follmer. "And you need to go home and get some sleep." Follmer nodded and left the office without argument. *** John sat Monica down on the couch and then sat beside her. "We may have a break in the case." He said gently. "What did you find out?" Monica asked. John folded his hands together nervously. "I think we may be dealing with a serial rapist who chooses his victims based on what kind of work they do. A.D. Follmer dug up files on rapes in the past two months. All the women gave the same description of the man that you gave, and they all held high-ranking jobs. Lawyers, cops, doctors..." "Have they arrested anyone yet?" Monica asked, cutting John off. John paused. "No. But I think that we might not be too far from an arrest now that we know what this guy is up to." John said. But Monica gave a frustrated sigh. John put his hand on her arm. "We're close. We'll get him." *** The next morning, Doggett, Skinner and Follmer gathered together around the conference table and discussed the case. They had little to go on as far as DNA, and any recognizable features of the attacker. He had simply planned it too well. "How did he get in?" Follmer asked. "That wasn't on the report." "He came in the through the only door. There was no broken windows...in fact, they were all locked since the last tenant lived there, and getting up and down the fire escape wouldn't be too easy." John said, looking at Follmer. "Exactly how did he come through the door?" Skinner asked. "Well," Doggett answered, "it looks like the door was either unlocked, or jimmied." "Or opened with a key." Skinner said. The two men looked at him. Follmer nodded. "Picking a lock takes time, and Agent Reyes' apartment had two separate locks that she claims were both locked when she went to bed." John thought on this for a moment. "So, you think someone used a key to get in?" Follmer shrugged. "If you were going to plan a rape, you'd want to be able to get in the easiest way possible. Somehow, this man may have gotten a key to her apartment." John nodded. "I think I'll go talk to the building's maintenance man. Ask him if he's was missing a key to the place." He picked up his jacket and headed out the door. He knew the drive by heart, because he'd been to her apartment many times since she'd moved there. He called Monica on the way to her apartment to fill her in on what was happening. John truly believed that they were close to catching the man who had hurt Monica, and so many other women. He fantasized about catching him. He fantasized about hurting him. John went through the front door, and followed the signs to the basement. It was dimly lit and smelled funny, the way most old buildings do. He found the right door and knocked on it. No one answered the door. He knocked again...nothing. He became frustrated. When it came to solving cases, John was not a patient man. He tried the doorknob, and found the door unlocked. He peered around the corner. No one was down there, so he went inside the maintenance room and closed the door behind him. Once inside, he took a quick look around. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. The room held all the standard equipment that a maintenance keeper might have. Lots of tools, spare light bulbs, cleaning equipment. John spied a box on the wall that was halfway open. He found keys to every apartment in that box, every apartment except the one Monica lived in. John began to have the feeling that he was getting somewhere. He searched through some papers on a modest, cluttered desk, but found nothing that interested him. What he really needed was to talk to the maintenance man himself, and find out why Monica's key was missing from the box. Perhaps someone had stolen it. However, he couldn't wait around all day to see if he'd come back. He decided to leave. As he walked towards the door, he nearly tripped over a loose board in the creaky, wooden floor. John looked down. The board that stuck up was a little bowed, and it wasn't nailed down. He thought it was odd that the floor was wooden in the first place, since it should have been unfinished foundation beneath him. He bent over and pried the board from its spot. When he lifted it out of its place, he received a shock. The wood floor was about six inches above the unfinished concrete floor. Sitting on the concrete foundation beneath the wood floor, was Monica's gun. Next to the gun, was a single key. John's eyes grew wide with astonishment. He picked up the gun and looked at it to be sure. He turned it over and read the number on the underside of the barrel. The numbers matched Monica's badge number. *** Darren Provatti jiggled the doorknob of the maintenance room, and found it locked. He thought it was odd, because he hadn't remembered locking it before he left for a late lunch. He shrugged and pulled his keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door. He walked in the room thinking of the toilet in 208 that he still needed to finish before the afternoon was over. He was caught off guard by the strong hands that slammed him against the wall and held him tightly against it. John Doggett put his gun against Provatti's head. His anger would get the best of him if he let it, and he couldn't let it. John just looked at him, and held the gun against his head. Provatti's eyes were wide as quarters. "What the hell is this?" Provatti asked, in a nervous voice. John Doggett pressed the gun harder and got very close to Provatti. "You like rapin' sleeping women? You sick fuck?" Provatti didn't respond. His mouth dropped open and he breathed anxiously. "You like rapin' my partner? My friend?" John demanded. He gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. His finger held the trigger of the weapon that was pointed at Provatti. "I don't know what you're talkin' about!" Provatti cried. John pressed the gun so hard against him that he cried out in pain. "Jesus, man! You're hurtin' me!" John didn't let up. He slammed Provatti's head against the hard foundation wall. "I should kill you." John threatened, and cocked his weapon. Provatti shook with fear. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, man...I don't know what you're talkin' about...please!" Provatti cried out. John put his knee in the man's back and held the gun up for Provatti to see. "Then what's this?" John demanded of him. Provatti shook his head. Sweat dripped into his eyes. "I never seen it before." Provatti said. John responded by shoving his knee into the other man's spine. Provatti cried out in pain. John punched him then, right in the kidney. Provatti sank against the wall but John held him up. "I'm not gonna stop until I get a confession." John said, anger blazing in his eyes. He felt out of control, he felt nothing but rage. But he had meant what he said. He punched Provatti again in the kidney. The man cried out in extreme agony. "Stop! Stop, please...." Provatti begged. "I did it, okay! Just stop...please!" John Doggett pulled out a pair of cuffs and slapped them on Provatti's wrists. He tightened them mercilessly. "You're goin' to prison." John told the other man. Provatti stared blankly at nothing as John dragged him out of the room. *** Later that evening, a tired John Doggett walked through his front door. Monica was already standing, waiting to hear the news. John took off his jacket. "His fingerprints were all over the gun. And he's confessed." He told Monica, looking up at her. Tears flooded to her eyes and fell down her cheeks. He reached out for her and she went to him. The relief they both felt was incredible, and they shared a much-needed hug. "It's over." He said to the woman in his arms, as he smoothed back her hair. *** Monica hung up the phone and made a few notes in her report. She closed the file with a sigh and laid it with the others. She watched the screen saver on her computer for a few moments. It felt good to be back at work, she thought, despite the small mountain of paperwork that needed her attention. John had been handing most of the field cases, and none of them were X-Files anyway. After a week of being back at work, Monica was beginning to feel a little more like herself. She still went to group religiously, and saw her therapist once a week. Dr. Crist was very optimistic about Monica's mental condition. The nights were still very long for Monica, and the nightmares still came, but they didn't frighten her the way they used to. She still found it impossible to go places alone at night, but she knew that she would get over that in time, too. If she owed her recovery to anyone but herself, it was John. He couldn't analyze her condition the way a doctor could, and he couldn't relate the way the other women in the group did, but he was undoubtedly the one who had saved her. He had been there for her weakest times, her darkest hour. He had comforted her the way that no other person in the world could have. And he had helped her find the man who hurt her. But most importantly, he had loved her. He had loved her in every way possible, no matter how damaged she had become. His love overwhelmed her, and it made her realize that all things truly are possible. Their relationship moved along slowly, cautiously. They did not make love, but their relationship was full of intimacy that they both knew would soon bring them to sex. There was no hurry, Monica thought, although it was hard not to act on her yearning when every night he lay next to her in bed. But she would know when the time was right. For now, she had the trial to think about. She wasn't worried about the outcome...there was certainly enough evidence against Darren Provatti to get a conviction and a tough sentence. But Monica knew that it would be difficult to stand before the court and tell her story while the man who had raped her stood less than ten feet away. She had never seen his face. She imagined him as some kind of horrible monster, but he wasn't. He was just a man, a man with a very disturbed and sick mind. Her testimony would be hard, but there was one thought that gave her satisfaction, and it was that Darren Provatti's horrible deeds would be brought to light, professed to every ear in the courtroom. And that every eye will look on him with disgust as the bailiff leads him from the courtroom, back to his cell where he will spend a very long, hard sentence. *** John stood at a distance on the courthouse steps. He watched Monica as she spoke to one of the other rape victims, and hugged her. The woman was crying. John smiled when Monica looked up at him from over the woman's shoulder. When the two women parted, Monica walked slowly over to John. They sat down on the steps together. Monica's face showed a mixture of emotion. "How are you feelin'?" John asked her, taking her hand discreetly. Monica sighed. "I don't know." she said, shaking her head. "I feel happy that Provatti's behind bars, but I still feel...kind of depressed. Like I'm just not sure if all those years in prison is going to make up for what he's done to me, and all of the others. You know?" John nodded. "I know exactly what you mean." he said. "But I also believe that this guy Provatti'll really get what he deserves in prison, if you get what I'm sayin'." Monica smiled and nodded her head. The pair sat in silence for a moment, until Monica spoke: "I guess this means I have to start living my life again. Time to stop being afraid." she said. John nodded, but didn't say anything. He watched Monica's hair blow in the breeze, and then looked down at the ground. "Monica...I want you to move in with me." John said. Monica's head shot up and looked at him. "Permanently, I mean." John added. He looked back at her, and they regarded each other. Monica searched his eyes. "You want me to live with you? Why?" John squeezed her hand and looked back down at the concrete steps. "Because I love you. Because...because I think of you leaving my house and my heart breaks." Monica, always the crier, felt tears form in her eyes. "I know you're not ready for...some things. But I can wait. I wanna take care of you." John said, and finally looked back up at her. His eyes were so sincere. Monica threw her arms around him and kissed him, right there in front of the courthouse. She cried, but then she began to laugh. Laughter through tears. Her favorite emotion. *** One week later, Monica moved out of her apartment. She had thought herself very fortunate to get a place so nice, but when she took the last box out, she didn't look back. On her way back to John's house, she stopped off at the Post Office to fill out a change of address form. She had done this a few times in her life, but never had it made her so happy. She didn't even mind the wait at the Post Office. When she walked through the door of her new, permanent home, John was waiting for her. He had a bottle of Merlot and two glasses waiting for her. They toasted to Monica moving in. And then they toasted to the future. That night, John and Monica made slow, passionate love. The dreams did not come for Monica that night. *** One year later... Monica sat in the circle with the other eight women. Some of their faces were blank; some of them were tired and some just plain scared. Their painful journey had only just begun. They were recent victims of rape, and Monica knew, as she sat among them, that they had a long way to go. But this was Monica's last group. "I've come here tonight, for my last group, so that I can share with you how I've dealt with rape." Monica said, speaking in a strong, proud voice. "The road is very long, and it hurts most of the time. But you can't give up. Because if you don't give up, then he can never hurt you again. Take back your lives. Don't let anyone break your spirit or make you feel hopeless. I won't lie to you, you can't ever be the person you were before this happened to you. You can't put this away and make like it never happened. Because it did, and you are a different person then you once were." Monica paused. "But they say, that which does not kill us makes us stronger. And I truly believe that." From just beyond the doorway, John listened to his fiancé talk to the other members of the group. He smiled as she began to talk about love, about it's power to heal all wounds. Monica had once told John that he had saved her. But what Monica did not realize was that she had saved him. John thought about the future. He wasn't afraid of the future anymore. When he had lost a marriage and a son, his future was uncertain and frightening. And the first time he met Monica Reyes, he never would have guessed that this quirky, over-imaginative woman would someday bring him so much happiness. She made him happy when she accepted his proposal of marriage, and she had brought him unbelievable joy when she told him that she wanted to have children with him. Now, instead of dreading the passing of his youth, he looked forward to days to come. John was deep in thought and smiling like a fool when Monica joined him in the hallway. She put her arms around his waist and kissed him fervently. "Ready to go?" John nodded. Monica looked at him strangely, because it looked as though he might cry any moment. "Are you alright, John?" He nodded his head and sighed, his eyes searching hers. He opened his mouth to speak, and said softly, "I just can't wait for you to be my wife." ~f~ One look at love and you may see It weaves a web over mystery, All ravelled threads can rend apart For hope has a place in the lover's heart. Hope has a place in a lover's heart. ~Enya "Hope Has A Place" ** Author's Notes: I can't really tell you what inspired me to write a story about rape. I didn't have a personal experience that I wanted to channel into my story, nor am I sick in the head. To me, I guess it's more a need to explore how Doggett and Reyes' relationship would survive and develop under the most extreme of trials. I'm also a fan of all-around torture and angst, and in that same respect, comfort. It's not about the rape, really, but how Doggett comforts and takes care of Reyes that I love to write about. Also, I wrote an MSR rape story years ago that I believe, even to this day, was some of my best work in fanfiction. Unfortunately, my hard drive crashed before I had a chance to get it on the web. And to make matters worse, I didn't back it up on disk. Stupid, I know. I could never even have begun to recreate it. It was novel-length and full of thoughts and dialogue that had simply come to me as I wrote. Once the moment passes, I lose it, and unless it's on the screen already, it's gone for good. So I didn't even try. But it's been a few years, so I thought I would try it with Doggett and Reyes. I hope it's as good as the one I lost, or better. Thoughts and opinions are welcome at tred2@yahoo.com, but please do not write and express your distaste for rape stories. It's in the header, and I feel that I have clearly explained all of my reasons for writing this story. I made up Monica's middle name, Luina. I don't know if her middle name has ever been mentioned, and I'm too lazy to do the research, frankly. I just thought it fit. I'm not a psychologist so I have no idea what questions or advice they would REALLY give, so I took a stab at it. On the same token, I am not a cop, a lawyer or a judge.....I don't know how the court procedure works, which is one of the reasons I left out the court proceedings. Also, I didn't really think it was very relevant to this Doggett-and-Reyes-centered story. I hope you enjoyed the story! Comments, questions and screams of outrage gleefully accepted at tred2@yahoo.com.