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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.

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After what seemed like days in the cool darkness, the trunk opened and their captor dropped a briefcase in beside them. He waved, winked, and shut the lid again.
He was in a celebratory mood back at the motel room. They watched as he stacked and restacked packets of bills.
Eventually he tired of playing with the money, and turned to the women in the cage. Estelle was still recovering from the torture, so he picked Tilly and Dana.
"Let's do this again," he said. He taped Tilly down to the table, this time without a barrier. "I'm hoping you don't bleed so much, dear," he explained. "If you don't disappoint me, there won't be much to clean up."
Scully took up the knife again and knelt beside the bound woman. "I'm sorry..." she started to say. Tilly shushed her.
"Do what you have to do, Scully," she said. "We both will."
In the end, she'd only gotten one question wrong. He laughed as he put the book down. "Cut her on the foot," he directed. "On the heel, to keep her from trying to run away."
Tilly gave a slight nod of reassurance to Scully as the other woman reached out with the knife. As gently as she could, she drew the blade across her foot. At the last moment, though, an enormous finger shot in to press the edge deeper.
Tilly cried out in pain, Dana equally loud in surprise and dismay. She threw the blade down and applied pressure to the wound.
"I need a bandage!" she shouted up to their tormentor.
"NO!" the wounded woman yelled. "Save...save it for the others. I'm tough. We need to...to make sure the others get the help they need."
With shock, Scully stared down at her friend. But it made sense. He was the sort of man who'd give them only a limited number of assets, making them choose who got them.
Without her notice, he tore off a section of toilet paper and placed it across Monroe's leg. The rest he used to mop up the blood on the table.
Scully wadded the paper into and against the wound. It melted in the fluid, becoming a macabre sort of papier mache. Then she stared as Featherstone gently lifted the other agent, to place her carefully in the cage.

He should have been livid, Scully thought. The test was just an excuse to torment, to make his victims feel that their pain was their fault. Why was he happy with only one cut? Either their profile of the man was faulty, or he was up to something she couldn't anticipate.
While she pondered, he turned back to her. "And what to do with you, my dear?" he asked. Scully shrugged.
"Whatever you want, obviously."
"Quite right," he said with a smile. "Let's go out!"
---
A short drive later, he parked and lifted Dana out of her trash pail. They were in a mall parking lot, she saw. It was well after closing, but a few cars were still scattered around them. As she watched, doors opened and a crowd exited. A movie was letting out, she realized.
"Pick one," he told her, gesturing towards the swarm of teens and young adults.
"No," she said. He squeezed her chest with his hand. One finger pressed a boob tightly against her chest. "NO!" she insisted, despite the pain.
"Very well. You see that woman? In the green dress?"
She did. "The one with the baby stroller, you mean."
"Yep. If you don't pick another one, they're both coming back to the motel room with us."
"Nooooo," she moaned.
"Ten," he said. "Nine... Eight... Seven..."
"The smoker!" she shouted. Over to one side, a young brunette dressed in black leathers bent over a lighter to ignite a cigarette. She looked tough, Dana thought. Hopefully, she'd be tough enough.
"Excellent," he agreed. Then he tossed her back into the pail. She raged against it, bashing the sides, but something held it upright. Featherstone left the car, but soon returned. The naked woman writhed in his grip.
He sat examining her for a few moments, twisting and pulling at her. His smile just got bigger. Finally he tossed her to join Scully and drove back to the motel.
Claire could have taught Scully's dad a thing or two about profanity, she thought. She swore at Featherstone, the car, the night, and her worthless boyfriend for not going to the movie with her. When the Doctor introduced the two women, he made sure to point out that Dana was the one who'd picked Claire. She swore at Scully, then, and the FBI, and at Dana's attempt to apologize for her choice.
She was swearing at the mother and her worthless loaf of a diaper soiler when they got to the motel.
Featherstone got her to shut up only by promising to use a sewing needle as a dildo if she spoke before they were in the motel room.
She swore under her breath, but was quiet in his grip. The state of the women in the cage actually stunned her to silence, though.
While the giant went to the bathroom, she knelt by Estelle. The old woman was recovering, slowly, but still looked like hell.
"What's going on?" she asked, voice small. Scully and Tilly took turns trying to explain. They were about halfway through the philosophy tests when he came back out.
"Shower time," he announced. "I need a washrag. Tilly broke my last one." He disrobed, grabbed up Claire, and went back to the bathroom.
Scully and the other two women sat despondently in the cage as tiny screams came through the door.
-----
Claire wasn't a philosophy major. After only four questions, it was terribly clear that she was in over her head. Disgusted, Featherstone threw the book onto the bed and tossed the first aid kit down to Scully.
She patched the girl as well as she could. Then he almost threw the teen into the cage. Tilly caught her and tried to calm her down.
Scully sat still, right before the mad scientist's glare. He was obviously still spoiling for amusement, but she didn't think he'd cut her. He had too much fun making a doctor hurt another, no matter how she justified it.
She sat quietly as he reached out and started stroking her hair. The giant finger smacked against her skull, but then gently drifted down the back of her hair and along her spine.
Wordlessly, he pushed her over onto all fours. The stroking changed to her spine and ass cheeks, then her ass and thighs.
Gently but firmly, two fingers pressed her shoulders to the ground, while the other hand kept her ass high in the air.
He spread her knees apart and fondled her from belly button to ass. All in all, she decided it resembled someone trying to rub her seductively with a Virginia ham. He touched what he wanted, with no thought to her needs, comfort, or willingness.
He probably thinks I'm getting off, she thought to herself. Paul's the sort of man who thinks he has the Midas touch with women.
Then she realized he'd never made her give back the blade. Dana knew exactly where she'd left it, just off to one side of where she was now.
Without turning her head, she moaned and shifted her arms. Slowly stretching out both hands, so as not to draw attention to the one seeking the weapon, she felt for the steel weapon.
He rubbed faster, thinking he was getting through to her. She moved her ass a bit, pretending it was working, stretched both hands out, out. Where was that damned thing?
She risked turning, but slowly. First she turned to face straight down at the table, eyes closed. Then she shook her head and put her other ear down to the tabletop.
Scully saw the blade through slitted eyelids. It was just beneath her wrist. Could she grab it fast enough to use it? Was he watching her? She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing. How fast was it?
Just then, she heard a zipper working. He was more than a little preoccupied, it seemed. She eased her hand back, matching the motion with her other arm. A little more, a little more. She opened her eyes in a quick blink, found the knife to still be a hand's breadth below her reach.
Moving again in the darkness, much too far, but still without feeling the blade. Above her, Featherstone started to chuckle.
She opened her eyes to see the blade slowly retreating from her reach. Suddenly it shot away. At the edge of the table, it clinked against an industrial strength magnet as Featherstone lifted it from beneath the table surface.
His chuckle blossomed into full fledged laughter.
"Nice try, dear."
----
Some days later, Tilly got Featherstone's attention before the evening's entertainment began. He picked her up and held her by the torso. Her legs dangled beneath her, swaying slightly in his grip. She held onto his fingers and tried to steady herself.
Back in the cage, Scully watched, wondering what was going on.
"You're doing very well, Paul," Monroe told their jailor.
"Oh? How do you mean that, my dear?"
"It's obvious." She gestured towards the cage. "You've got a doctor regularly hurting people, a Goth nihilist who just wants her mommy, an English teacher who's failing your tests, and me. A sworn protector who kills at your order."
"You think that's a good thing, Tilly?"
"I think it's what you want."
"What do you think I want?"
"Well," she said slowly, "I think you wanted to get even with Estelle. You're probably going to brainwash her, aren't you?" He didn't agree or disagree, just stared at the woman clasped in his hand.
"Whatever. But aside from her, you're looking for something, aren't you? Some quality of a woman that you think you need, or can use."
"Have you figured out what that is, Agent?"
"Oh, I'm not an agent any more, sir. I couldn't even lift my badge right now, much less my gun. I'm yours, not the government's.
"But I can help you."
"How?" he asked. Yeah, how, Scully thought.
"You're looking for women like me. Women who've been searching. Searching for a man like you. One that can live up to our demanding standards."
She's laying it on thick, Scully thought.
"How perceptive of you, my dear. That's exactly what I want. I just hadn't realized it until you expressed the idea! This is wonderful!" Of course, Scully realized, with some men it was impossible to overdo it.
He took her out onto the room's balcony to discuss the future. Scully watched the two outlined against the sunset, wondering who was being sincere, who was playing the other.
--------
In the cage that night, Scully confronted Monroe. Voice kept low to avoid waking Featherstone, she asked: "Are you conning him or cooperating with him?"
"Dana, don't you see? We don't have to pretend anymore."
"Pretend what?"
"To be like the others. To be weak, or care about the weak. Didn't you join the Bureau to challenge yourself?"
"Well, I thought-"
"And isn't THIS the ultimate challenge? Surviving in the grasp of a sociopath?"
"Survive, yes!" Scully hissed. "But at what cost? You've killed for him!"
"You've tortured for him," Tilly pointed out, quite calmly.

"To save their lives, not to end them!" In the dark room, she could barely see Tilly shaking her head.
"You still don't get it. No one can save their lives except them. This isn't Stockholm Syndrome. We can't change ourselves enough to become what he wants." Tilly moved to her knees to hold Dana by the upper arms. "You have to have, deep inside of you, the personality, the backbone, the steel to actually be what he wants.
"When the crucible boils away all weaknesses, you're either going to be standing there thanking him, or you'll be gone."
Scully brushed the other agent's hands off of her and scooted away in horror. Tilly watched her go, shaking her head again.
"You've got to choose, Dana. Live the lie or reach deep inside for the True You. The Dana Scully that lives to shoot evildoers, who seeks out danger, just to rise above it." She crawled on all fours to follow Dana to her corner.
"Danger isn't the POINT of my job," Scully said. "It was an obstacle. I was trained to face it. I wasn't out to prove how ballsy I was!"
"Balls!" Monroe laughed. "As if men could actually be the benchmark for courage. They just line up in groups and hurl honor at each other. Last man standing gets the badge.
"You want to see brave? See any woman facing down a man, when he's bigger, stronger, and has the whole weight of society backing him." She stopped crawling.
"I don't want to force you, Dana. And truly, if you're not the right type of woman, I can't make you into the right type. But if there's a chance that you are, you have to realize it. Recognize it. Grab your chance." She went back to her corner. Scully crouched in hers and stared at the darkness.
The giant's snores filled the room while she stayed awake and terrified through the night.
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