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.Feather Files	By : keithcompany Category: S through Z > X-Files Views: 2795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Files, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Tilly strode through the airport crowd with an air of impending doom. Lesser mortals scattered before her and Dana rolled along in her wake. She smiled at the back of the imposing figure before her, remembering Fornell's comment about Army airborne.
Just before they got to the rental cars, Scully watched her partner veer towards the hotel information display. She stared at the map of the airport and surrounding towns.
"Uh, Tilly? We have a map. Maps to the sheriff's, to the teacher's house, to the hotel..."
"He'd be close," Monroe murmured.
"He grew up around here," Scully pointed out, automatically figuring out who the other agent was referring to. "He won't be anyplace he might be recognized. Besides, he's done here. If he grabbed Estelle, he's got no reason to be close by."
"Except to watch the police deny that he did what he did. Except to gloat over the foolish forces of justice arrayed against him."
"Okay, THAT makes sense," Scully agreed. She pointed to a city on the map. "He grew up here, the abduction was here...."
"He'd want to be close enough to get the local news, but far enough to be outside of any sweeps..." Monroe continued seamlessly.
"And close to an airport for an immediate escape?" Scully offered. Monroe shook her head.
"If there was an APB, the airport's the last place he'd want to go. To easy to get trapped." She drew a line from the center of the city, diagonally across the map. "But the nearest major metropolitan area is Chicago...so if he drove away from the sheriff's office, that'd be the nearest place to lose himself in a crowd."
There was one hotel on the line Tilly was indicating. Dana found and grabbed two brochures for it as they turned towards the car rental agency. Half an hour later, they walked into the lobby.
"OF course," Dana pointed out, "he's from the area. He could have any number of reasons to stay any other place at all."
"But it's a starting place," Tilly replied. They shrugged at each other, sidestepped a bellboy with a suitcase cart, and approached the front desk.
The only clerk was on the phone, but he raised a hand to indicate he saw them, promising service in 'just a moment.' He dropped his face to the paper before him to finish taking the message, turned to place it in the proper key slot, and spun back to wait on the two women.
But they weren't there. He scanned the lobby, but they weren't in front of the desk, in a chair, looking at the post cards... Well, he thought with a shrug, if it was important, they'd find him.
The lady at the gift counter was looking oddly towards the front desk, he noticed. Or...to the space in front of the front desk. He stood on tiptoe to look over and down.
The clothes of the disappearing women were in two piles on the floor. Empty piles. He looked around again for the two women, with much more interest this time. They must be naked, or nearly so.
Scully fought against the glove but couldn't shift it. Featherstone had her nicely trapped.
She'd scanned the lobby while waiting for the clerk to finish his call. To her amazement, the man she'd been profiling for so long just stepped around the magazine rack four feet away.
Weirder than seeing him, though, was the fact that he seemed to recognize her. With a confident sneer, he lifted his arm. A strange looking gun was already in it.
She tried to speak, to warn Monroe, to draw her own gun... But there was no time. A split second after seeing Featherstone, it was like she was in a circus tent. Her own blouse was piled atop her.
She desperately tried to figure out where her pistol had landed, when the fabric around her parted. The giant smiling face of the doctor hung over her, then was obscured by his hand.
Before she could scream, she was inside the pocket of his trench coat, then muffled by a glove he shoved in on top of her.
However she strained the dark, the leathery mass above her wouldn't budge. Either he was holding it down with his hand, or his pocket buttoned.
From the movement, he seemed to be walking calmly. She tried to wiggle around the glove to the pocket opening. Maybe she could get out and drop to the ground, hide somewhere until she could find a way to contact Mulder.
He slapped the pocket from the outside. The force of the blow was probably pretty light, really, but at her reduced size, it rattled her badly. She calmed down, biding her time.
Soon enough, she heard the rattle of keys and a car door open. The pocket contorted as the man wearing the coat entered and sat down.
The body side of the pocket rumbled as Featherstone spoke, probably to Monroe. The voice went on for a while.
It was so like the bastard to gloat, Scully thought. Eventually, the glove was removed. She tried to fight off the hand when it came back, but he grabbed her up easily.
Featherstone held Scully above the steering wheel and looked her over. Hanging nude in his grip, she looked back. From the corner of her vision, she saw that they were in a dark parking garage.
"Nice," he murmured. "Very nice, Agent Scully."
"How do you know who I am?" she asked, astonished.
"I have a photographic memory. And I saw you on the video: 'Dead Alien: Truth or Humbug.' I found your performance compelling, so I found out who you were."
"My performance? I wasn't performing! I was doing an autopsy!" A small part of her mind marveled at the idea of shouting at a giant while in his grip. But it was something to distract her from her situation.
"Oh, I know," he chortled. "But a doctor, doing an autopsy on an alien Grey, who doesn't check for masks, zippers or 'Made in Taiwan' stamps before the Y-cut."
He tossed her to the side. She screamed as she fell, striking a plastic surface that gave under her weight. Tilly didn't quite catch her, but kept her from falling all the way to the floor.
Scully looked around as Monroe helped her stand. They were in a plastic garbage pail. Small holes drilled into the side let them see Dr. Featherstone in the driver's seat. At an estimate, they were both about eight or nine inches tall. It was very odd looking at Monroe and seeing her eye to eye.
"So there I was," he was saying, starting the car and pulling out. "All checked out, buying a coffee for the road, when the dumbest doctor ever to hold a scalpel walks into my hotel." Scully closed her eyes and slowly beat her head against the plastic.
"And with her, I recognized the agent who single-handedly brought the Kissimee Kissing Killer to justice." Scully heard Tilly start to bang the plastic in time with her own humiliation.
"Of course," Featherstone went on, "I was very lucky that I was looking at them through a rack of paperbacks, or they might have been able to defend themselves.
"I had my shrink ray, shot them, shrunk them, and plugged them into my pockets. And now..." He paused to look down at the spy holes. "Now we're going to have lots of fun.
"Of course, what's surprising is that your clothes didn't shrink. They used to. I guess my tinkering has changed the nature of the ray. Fascinating." He smiled down at the two holes again. "Too bad, though. I really enjoy peeling clothes off my captured women."
-----
The next place they stopped was a cabin rental by a lake. Neither agent got enough of a look around to know any more about their location. He'd left them in the plastic prison while checking in and moving things out of the trunk, then plucked them up together.
They saw woods and water and then they were inside. He shut and locked the door, then carried them to the table.
There was a cage, something like a rodent trap, with two naked women inside of it. Scully recognized one as Estelle Latham, the missing teacher. The old lady cowered in the corner. The other woman seemed to be a teenager, pacing back and forth.
Neither made a move as the giant opened the cage to put his newest abductees within. As he did, Tilly grabbed the edge of the cage and twisted out of his grip. She ran to the edge of the table and jumped to the chair beneath it, then down to the floor.
He merely tightened his grip on Dana and thrust her inside. She turned to watch him seal the cage and walk into the bathroom at the back of the cabin.
Across the room, Agent Monroe climbed hand over hand up the phone cable to the nightstand. A side-kick moved the handset off the phone. She bent to punch the numbers.
In the bathroom, Featherstone flushed the toilet, then stepped to the sink to wash his hands. Tilly dropped to her knees at the handset, shouting into the mouthpiece.
"MULDER! Trace this call! We're in Featherstone's cabin! Call out the Marines!" She crawled quickly to the earpiece, looking over her shoulder at the Doctor. He was walking nonchalantly towards the nightstand.
Placing her ear to the handset, Tilly slumped. "There's no signal," she said, deadpan.
"Of course not. I regularly disable the phones where my Girls can get to them." He held out a hand. She didn't walk towards it, but didn't fight when he picked her up.
"Still, such behavior cannot be tolerated." He grabbed her thighs in his grip and bent her over the back of his hand. With slow, precise strokes, he spanked the little agent's ass cheeks until they were bright red.
She withstood the pain and humiliation stoically. When he tossed her into the cage, Tilly limped to a corner and sat quietly. Small tears trickled down her cheeks and Dana looked away from her partner.
Featherstone took his cell phone out to the car, leaving his new acquisitions to 'acclimate' he said. Once the door was closed, Scully scooted over to talk to the two women who'd been there a while.
Estelle was uncommunicative, while the teen didn't seem to speak English. Dana finally returned to Tilly.
The other agent had regained her composure and placidly watched the other woman approach her corner.
"You, uh, want me to look..." Scully gestured towards Monroe's rear.
"There isn't much you can do, Dana. I got a beating, but there's no blood. And we're kinda short of medical supplies, anyway."
"But doesn't it hurt to sit like that?"
"Yes." Tilly didn't seem to feel like explaining, but Dana just sat and stared at her. "Well, I deserve to hurt. I got caught. I was stupid and left myself vulnerable."
"There wasn't anything you could do," Scully pointed out. "There's no place you can go or hide in here that he can't find you eventually." Tilly shrugged and turned away.
----
Dinner was a pinch of bread from the hamburger he brought back to the cabin, one for each woman. As he ate, he ordered each one to stand up and turn around. The teen seemed to know the drill and followed Estelle's show.
He made appreciative or critical comments on their physical looks.
When he finished eating, he spread the wax paper wrapper on the table top, taping the edges down with duct tape. The teen started to scream. He ignored her, the picked the older woman out of the cage.
She was spread across the paper and taped in place at hands and feet. She moaned but didn't seem to fight him at all. Tilly and Dana watched as he produced a modeling knife and new-looking book of philosophy. The young woman turned away from what was happening.
"What we're here for," he said in a lecturing tone, "is like sculpture. If you want a stone elephant, you take a stone, then chisel away anything that isn't part of the elephant.
"If you want a superior human, you take an inferior one and cut away anything that isn't superior." He jabbed the knife down into Estelle's thigh. "Pain is just weakness, leaving the body," he said over the tiny screams.
"So, I'm going to ask some philosophical questions, Estelle, and you're going to give me answers. If they're right, you're already superior. If they're wrong..." He paused, holding the knife over her head, letting a single drop fall onto her face.
"Now, the essence of man's state of being is..."
"Do you want to kill her?" Scully asked. He turned to her with surprise.
"I don't like being interrupted, bitch," he said in an almost pleasant tone.
"But do you mean to kill her?"
"No. Unless she 'fails' she should last." He seemed to be quoting someone, Dana noticed. And it was someone he disliked, from his expression.
"Then you shouldn't cut her," she told him. "You're too big, your hands aren't steady. With a knife that size, you're going to cut too deep, hit something vital. If you want her to live, you need to find some other way to punish wrong answers."
Featherstone stared at her for a long time. Then he unscrewed the knife to remove the blade and lay it beside the retired teacher.
"You do it," he said. Scully was lifted out and placed on the table, some distance from the teacher. Or, she realized, a safe distance from the knife blade. For all that he was nine times her height, he still feared harm from her.
"Cut her when I tell you to, where I say, and deep enough for blood to flow, or I'll cut both of you. And I'll expose bone when I do," he promised. Scully shuddered and picked the blade up awkwardly.
-----
Later, the diminutive doctor worked as well as she could with the first aid kit Featherstone had allowed her. He'd tossed out the needle, tweezers, scissors...all the metal. She had ointment, bandages and two alcohol swabs.
"I'm sorry," she said again. Tilly held Estelle's head and stroked her hair.
"You probably saved her life," she told Scully.
"Big deal," Scully replied. "More time in the rat cage, at the whim of the rat bastard."
"Alive is alive," Monroe insisted. "As long as the possibility of survival exists, it should be grabbed. Thought they'd have covered that in doctor school."
"They did. And they covered the Hippocratic Oath."
"Surgeons cut through healthy tissue to do good. You did what you had to."
A cloud of steam issued from the bathroom as the Doctor stepped out. He wore only a towel around his waist, the teen gripped in his hand.
She was bedraggled and exhausted, little curds of soap still in her hair. He plopped into a chair and turned on the TV. As he watched a movie on cable, he directed his prisoner towards his lap.
She peeled back his towel to uncover his cock and began stroking it. She used her arms, legs, her whole body before she was done. When he was done, he dropped her into the cage and washed off at the sink.
Without another word to the caged women, he turned off the lights and went to bed.
They spent the next day in the trunk. He seemed to have a number of errands. There was driving, long periods of parking, and more driving.
Tilly took charge of the one plastic bag of water he'd given them, rationing it with an iron fist. Estelle passed out early from the heat of the space. They wet her lips and forehead with as much water as they dared spare.
The new evening was in a new motel. He covered the cage to carry it inside, putting it in the usual spot.
A plastic cup filled with icewater was placed just outside of their reach.
"Who wants to earn water for the group, girls?" Without waiting for volunteers, he lifted Tilly and the teen onto the table.
"New game tonight," he said with a smile. "One of you is going to die. If you refuse to play, I'll pick one at random and kill her myself. If you'd rather survive, you have to kill-"
Without hesitation, Monroe charged the other women. Not an English speaker, she had no idea what the giant wanted from them. It took the older woman seconds to twist her head far enough to snap her neck.
She fell bonelessly at Monroe's feet. "Like that?" she asked Featherstone.
He smiled slowly. "Just like that." He put Monroe and the cup into the cage. "Just like that," he repeated.
Dana stared at her fellow agent in shock.
"It was her or me, Dana," Tilly said, cupping her hands to get water to Estelle. "If there was any way my death would have saved her, you know I'd have offered it. But I couldn't see a way. And you know he wouldn't have been as mercifully fast."
Dana just went on staring.
Doc had an unspecified meeting that night, so his Girls spent the evening in the trunk. It wasn't so hot, now, and they weren't in his grasp so it was almost a vacation.
Scully hadn't quite figured out how she felt about the murder of the nameless girl, or about Tilly's defense of her choice. Logically, the argument made sense, but it was not emotionally satisfying.
She'd become an agent to use her skills to help people. Killing them, when they weren't trying to kill you or another, was fundamentally wrong.
But what else could Monroe have done? What, she asked herself, would she have done? She wasn't fond of any of the results she could imagine.
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