Corrigenda (4/15)
by charvill

Email: charityharvill@yahoo.com 
Category: MSR, A, Post-IWTB

Summary:  Dana Scully was treating more patients than just
Christian during the winter of 2008.  This is the story about the
father of one of those patients who is awed by the miracles our
favorite former-forensics-dabbling-FBI-agent-turned-pediatric-
surgeon performs.  Drama ensues, of course :-)

Author's Note: Corrigenda is a Latin phrase meaning
"things to be corrected"
Archiving: Please ask permission. 


April 11, 2008

7:56am 

Scully inhaled through her nose. Tony's breath was warm; a hint
of mint slightly overpowered by the scent of bacon he had just
consumed. *What was he saying?* Everything was starting to
blur together, her brain becoming increasingly muddled with
each passing second. Her heart began to beat faster as her
mind caught up to the present predicament she was in. His
eyes, ocean blue and impossibly bright, were locked upon hers.
She barely noticed when his tongue darted out to wet his full,
lower lip. 

His voice was barely a whisper. "Do you trust me?" 

"I-I, uh " 

He brushed his thumb languidly across her lower lip then
dropped his hands to pull the tray into his lap. Holding a
spoonful of eggs up to her mouth, he pleaded, "Just a few bites.
Please?" 

"Scully, please," Mulder begged again.  

The sound of his voice combined with the intense hunger she
was experiencing was too much and Scully hastily snatched the
spoon from Tony, refusing to let him hand-feed her, and
swallowed the scrambled eggs. She bit down on her lip to keep
from moaning when the savory flavor assailed her taste buds. 

Tony didn't miss her reaction though. "Good, huh?" 

She pretended not to hear him, scooping up another bite and
then taking a gulp of orange juice from the tall glass he
provided. He reveled in each bite she took, knowing that this
would help Dana get back to her normal, healthy self again. The
last thing he wanted was for her to fall ill because of what he
had done to her. *What had to be done,* Tony told himself.
His thoughts turned to the man who would be arriving at her
former home tonight and he grimaced. So lost in his hatred for
this man, who cared so little for Dana that he would venture off
for days at a time and leave her in danger, that he didn't notice
when her movements stilled. 

"Mr. Patterson?" 

He let out a frustrated breath at her stubborn refusal to use his
first name. "Yes?" 

Dana stared at him silently and then glanced down at the tray.
The only thing left were the strips of bacon.  

"You do eat meat, right?" 

The corners of her mouth twitched for the first time since he
had brought her here, but she pressed her lips together so fast
that he wasn't sure he had really seen the hint of a smile at all. 

"Yes, I do."  

And that was all she was going to give him. Tony waited
anyway, wondering how he could persuade her to bathe as he
noted the way her now greasy hair had darkened the color to
an auburn shade, while the ends still maintained a golden hue.
He observed the tiny freckles that were splayed across her
nose and cheekbones, free of the makeup that had been
completely rubbed off in her sleep. She didn't smell too terrible - 
 he didn't know if she ever could--but he had watched the
way she held herself all those times he'd seen her. It was
another characteristic that had won him over. Dana was a
proud woman; and though he had taken away her most basic
freedom, he didn't want to be responsible for making her into a
meek, half-starved prisoner.  

Tony glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Unfortunately, that
battle would have to wait until later. He gathered up the tray
and stood to leave. "I have to take Jeffrey to school, but I'll be
back right after, okay?" 

No reaction.  

He sighed, but the high of seeing her eat had overpowered the
slight rejection he felt at her disregard. *She can be as silent as
she wants,* he mused. *But she may not feel like keeping her
mouth shut when I get back.* 

As the door shut behind him, she collapsed, her limbs folding in
on themselves. The click of the deadbolt echoed in her mind,
compounding the devastating feeling that she had somehow let
her captor win. She wasn't even strong enough to starve
herself.  

It had been two days and she hadn't made a bit of progress in
finding a way out this place. Even if he slipped up and she
managed to get to a phone or computer, she didn't even know
where she was! Was this Tony's place? He had repeatedly
mentioned needing to take Jeffrey places... surely he wasn't
leaving the boy by himself to take care of her.  

Something niggled in the back of her mind, something that she
knew she should remember. And then she did: their run-in at
the supermarket. Tony had mentioned he and Jeffrey lived
close to Scully. Would he really be so arrogant as to keep her
in an area so close to where Mulder resided? Did Tony actually
believe that she would eventually feel the awful things she wrote
to Mulder? That she could fall in love with someone else? With
the man who kidnapped her?  


10:02am 

It seemed that the food was helping because when Tony
arrived home from an installation, Dana was finally out bed and
walking around the room. He watched her through the monitor,
the urge to touch her getting stronger by the second. This
morning he came dangerously close to kissing her. His blood
boiled just remembering how warm the air between them had
been. Tony asked for her trust and, for a moment, he had
believed that her eyes were actually saying "yes". It had taken
everything he had to keep from pushing her backwards,
crushing her to the mattress, pleasuring her until Fox Mulder
was a distant, abhorrent memory.  

Tony's mind wandered, remembering the soft feel of his wife's
lips against his. She had been a deeply passionate woman in all
facets of her life: as a lover, a mother, and a nurse. 

It was impossible to disregard the similarities between Mary
and Dana, he knew.  But did that make him psychotic? Tony
didn't think so. A cloud moved from in front of the sun,
throwing the beams of light around the room and glinting off the
picture of his wife that lay on the desk. The pain of her loss was
so overwhelming at times that he couldn't stand it.  

Movement on the monitor caught his attention and Tony
lamented again over how much the two women favored one
another: strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, pale complexion,
petite frame. He also knew how much more difficult this would
make refraining from physical affection towards Dana. It was
why he had yet to return to the part of his mother's property in
which he kept her. Even after resolving to speak to her more
intimately, it saddened him to know how scrupulously she
would be judging him. But he wanted her to know him. And if
she thought he was crazy? He chuckled at Dana's image
despite himself. *Of course, she will think I'm crazy! Who
kidnaps someone just because they are involved with someone
that can't love them the way they should? But it's too late to go
back now,* he reminded himself. *Besides, her independent
spirit and sharp mind that's why Dana's the one. The one for
me* and *for Jeffrey.*  

Dana Scully was a problem-solver with a work ethic that
surpassed her peers. Tony had been lucky enough to talk to the
parents of one of her long-term patients while in the family
waiting area one night. She had apparently been working with
their son (whose name escaped him) for months: he had a
disease that, the boy's mom and dad claimed, hospital
administration had determined as "incurable". But the woman
who was pacing on the screen before him would not be beaten
and, in fact, the young boy was now recovering and stronger
than he'd been in his life. 

How could he not want someone like *that* to be the mother
of his child? 

Dana's phone vibrated against his thigh and he removed it from
his hip pocket. He grinned to himself when he read the text
from the infamous Fox Mulder: *Flight scheduled @ 4:05.
Sorry about dinner. Will make up for it with breakfast :) Miss
you.* It was only the third time she had received a message in
as many days, and he couldn't help but wonder how such an
inconsiderate asshole had ended up with a gem like Dana.
Hitting "delete", he stood with newfound purpose. Tony
brought the tips of his fingers to his mouth in a kiss before
pressing them against the glass over Dana's projected image.
Then he quickly bounded up the stairs. 

**** 

10:13am 

Scully scoured the room from top to bottom for the fourth time
that morning. The sugar from the orange juice and the protein in
the eggs had rejuvenated her. Mulder was coming home
tonight. He would see the note, and he would.... Well, she
knew too well how he would react. There would be denial at
first, paranoid disbelief. Then he would probably put out a
search for her. As time would pass, she knew Mulder would
begin to feel the doubt of those around him: Skinner, possibly
even her mother? And then Tony's plan might work...but only if
Mulder gave up on himself. She recalled a stark white hospital
room so many years before; a game of Russian roulette. It was
so damn easy for him to put the gun to his head...but when it
came to her? 

Scully tried to scrub the idea out of her head, kneading her
knuckles into her closed eyes. He would only give up if he
thought she was better off without him... 

"Dammit, Mulder!" she cried out, slamming shut the drawer she
had recently inspected. 

"What's going on?" 

Scully whirled, heart in throat, as Tony glared down at her.
"Oh, you startled me!" 

"I'm sorry," he said, though there was no apology in his tone.
The sound of *his* name, the intimate way they called each
other by their last name, coming from her mouth had enraged
him beyond imagination. "I knocked." 

He was less than two feet from her and when Scully tried to
back away, to put more distance between her body and his, the
edge of the tall bureau pressed uncomfortably below her
shoulder blades. Tony's chest was at her eye level, the thin blue
t-shirt taut over the hard muscles beneath. 

"Let me by." 

"You look better," he said, encroaching further with one step.
"The food seems to agree with you." 

The smell of his aftershave floated over her, the scent so
familiar it brought unwanted moisture to her eyes. It was the
same brand Mulder used. The fury of this new knowledge
heightened her nerve and she tried to push by him with one
deliberate step. 

"Don't." His voice was agonized, almost begging, but his actions
commanded her to listen: both hands grabbing the tops of her
shoulders, his hands so large that his fingers lapped over
themselves.  

She glared up at him, her eyes void of fear, and her stomach
turned when the corners of his mouth pulled up into a lecherous
smile. Releasing her left arm, he brought the back of his hand
up to lazily stroke her cheek. Scully closed her eyes against his
touch and swallowed down the breakfast that was threatening
to emit itself. 

And, suddenly, Tony surrendered his hold.  

Saying a silent prayer of thanks, Scully took a deep breath and
opened her eyes. He was sitting in the chaise staring straight
ahead at the bed. Though she currently detested the sight of her
captor, she used this opportunity to study him. Tony's body
looked like it had been chiseled from stone; solid and obviously
powerful. There was no doubt that most women probably
found him to be devastatingly handsome: his skin had a healthy
tan, despite the recent end of winter, and was clear of any scars
or pock marks. The eyes were large almonds, his shirt
complimenting his irises so that they seemed to sparkle like
sapphires. He had a full head of dark hair that, for the first time,
was in an untidy mess that fell to his cheekbones. And, as he
had so recently flaunted, the man was huge; six-feet-four or
taller, she guessed. 

Tony was sitting on the edge of the chair, elbows resting on
thighs, his hands absently locking and unlocking. As she
watched, his fingers stilled and he returned her stare. "Come,"
he said and motioned to the area of the bed directly across
from him. "Sit for a minute. I'd like to talk to you." Sensing her
hesitation, he raised his hands, palms forward. "Just talk, okay?
There's some things I need to get off my chest." 

Scully remained rooted the spot. 

Tony sighed and looked at his watch. "Okay, then, I guess I
deserve that." Pushing himself off the chair, he took three
strides to the door. "I'll be back to bring you lunch. We'll talk
then." 

Only when the door shut behind him -- the sound of the lock
now so familiar to her -- did she finally allow herself to take
another breath. 


*************
END Part 4