Authors Note: glad you liked it starclipper01, I've never posted smut before and it feels weirdly personal. I had heard there's a new to series planned. I'm just hoping the creators can twist Mr Urban's arm and get him to back track on that 'never doing tv again' comment.

Hope you enjoy this next chapter.


Chapter 4

She'd fallen into a light doze, when she was woken up by a shifting on the other side of the bed. It had really just been a tensing up, as Dredd was in the exact position she'd left him, but she knew it meant he was awake and probably trying to figure out what to do next.

"Are you really you this time?" She asked him carefully, feeling the panic roll off him. She was sure it was him now, but asking him would let him know she knew what had happened.

"Yeah." He said, quietly, still not having moved from the recovery position. He didn't want to look at her, she realised, so she got off the bed and went round to his side, crouching down beside him so that their eyes were level. She'd never seen anyone look so haunted, she certainly hadn't ever expected to see that look from him.

"What do you remember?" She asked gently.

He closed his eyes momentarily, as though he was trying to remember. She didn't push, knowing he wasn't a talker at the best of times. Eventually he looked at her again, "I went after Grazinski. The crowd pulled me down and dragged me into the block. They were strange, there was no fear from anyone, not even fear of pain. And there was no chanting, no slogans, it's almost as if they didn't know why they were rioting. They got me onto the second floor, hit and kicked me a few times, someone had a tire iron... and then one of them pulled my helmet off and just held his hand to my head, just for an instant. I didn't think much of it, I thought he was trying to hold me still while they tied me, but now I think he did something. A minute later and I'd been thrown over the balcony, I forgot about it. I remember you getting me down, the medic truck, but then it started to get weird. I was still there but I wasn't in control anymore, I tried to stop it but I couldn't. I think that creep was a mutant."

Anderson nodded. "I think you're right, a strong one."

"Drokk, Anderson! I'm sorry. I'll turn myself in to the council. Have them carry out their judgement on me." He sat up, clutching the blanket around his waist to protect his modesty. Anderson's eyes roved over the bruising that had been inflicted upon him just hours before. She put a hand on his knee, stopping him from going anywhere.

"Judgement for what? The monastic code is..."

But he interrupted her, "Anderson I raped you!"

She sighed and shook her head, sitting on the bed beside him, close enough for their shoulders to touch, wanting to prove to him that she wasn't afraid of him. "You didn't rape me."

"I forced myself on you, I was rough, did I hurt you?"

"No." She smiled, at him. "And you didn't force yourself on me."

"Whether you fought me off or not, you would not have agreed to sex had you been aware of the circumstances. That's still assault."

Anderson shook her head, "You're right. But it wasn't you. I never would have let you had I known, but that's got a lot more to do with knowing you wouldn't want to. If I've been raped it was by him, and so have you, and I'd argue in a way a lot worse than me."

He fell silent at that, so she pushed on. "You are not to blame in this. There is nothing to receive judgement for. We are going to find the son of a bitch that did this to you, and we are going to bring him to justice. But first you need some sleep."

She picked up his tee shirt and boxers and handed to him. He pulled them on hurriedly while she averted her eyes. He stood to move into the other room, eyeing the couch that could be seen just on the other side of the bedroom door but Anderson pulled back the sheets and patted the bed. "Come on. This is big enough for the two of us and you're too tired to argue." She was right, he was too tired. Wearily he got himself into the bed and she pulled the covers up over him, feeling oddly protective of him as she did. She got into bed on the other side and snuggled down into the pillow. She closed her eyes but could still feel him lying there, stiff with uncomfortableness, so she sought out his hand and clasped it in hers. Slowly she felt him relax and she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.


When Anderson awoke she was in bed alone. She'd expected as much. She rolled over and ran her hands over her face, trying to compartmentalise everything that had happened the night before. But then a noise in the other room had her sitting bolt upright. She rushed to the bedroom door and stepped out into the living space. Her apartment wasn't big, just a sofa in front of a holo screen and a seldom used kitchenette. She did not expect to see Dredd stood in her kitchen holding her coffee pot and staring down at the mug that had just smashed all over the floor at his feet.

"Well at least you didn't waste any precious caffeine." She smiled leaning against the door frame and delighting at watching Dredd fail at domestication.

He held up his left arm in his cast and waved it at her in explanation. "Sorry." He said gruffly.

"That's alright." She found a dustpan and swept up while he found two more mugs and did a better job of pouring this time, adding sugar to both cups and stirring it around. "Sorry there's nothing to eat."

Dredd just shrugged and handed her a mug. Anderson rolled her eyes, so we're back to that are we? He followed her to the sofa though and perched on the edge, as far from her as was possible. Anderson sat facing him and drew her legs up as she took a sip of the strong hot beverage.

She studied him as he stared down at the mug in his hands, hunched forward with his arms resting on his knees. He'd put his leather trousers back on, clearly wanting to be as dressed as possible, although his bare feet stuck out of the thick leather. He was missing a toe nail on his left foot and the two next to it were black and his ankle was bandaged, more signs of the battering he'd taken the night before. There was deep bruising that had come up on his jaw and around his neck, skin rubbed raw by the rope that had nearly ended his life.

"How are you feeling?" Anderson asked.

"I need to find him." Dredd growled back. It sounded like a deflection of the question, but Anderson knew it was a real answer. The need to find the man who'd hijacked his body the night before was an emotion in that it was an overwhelming feeling. Anderson didn't need to read his mind to know he could think of nothing else.

"What you need is a shower." She replied, wrinkling her nose. "I'll help you find him, but if you don't follow doctors orders your arm won't heal properly."

"He almost started a block war last night. It can't wait."

Anderson sighed, she knew she wasn't going to win this, even though she doubted he could get his jacket on over the cast. She got up and found him a spare towel in the closet. "Leave your clothes in my room and I'll get them clean." She said, handing him the towel. He nodded his thanks, drained his mug and shuffled into her room to go shower.

She threw his clothes into decontamination and then sat and savoured the rest of her coffee listening to the shower run in the other room while she contemplated the task at hand. Whoever this guy was, to take over a mind, any mind, let alone one as closed off as Dredd's, meant he had to be powerful. Even more than that, the control had held at long distance and for a number of hours. She doubted it was going to be as easy as striding in and sentencing him to the cubes. Then she heard a "Drokk!" and a thud that had her racing into the bathroom.

She barged in without knocking and found Dredd sprawled on the floor in the shower cubicle. He was stubbornly trying to push against the wall to get himself back to his feet but his arms were shaking and he couldn't use his broken left arm.

"What happened?" Anderson asked, pulling the shower door open and crouching down with him. When he looked up at her his eyes were hazy and unfocused.

"I blacked out." He admitted.

"That's why you smashed the coffee mug too wasn't it?"

"He's still in here." He muttered, thumping his head back hard against the tiles, screwing his eyes shut.

Worried now, Anderson reached up to turn the water off but he snatched her hand away, she met his gaze and she knew she wasn't looking at Dredd anymore, he was gripping her wrist too tight and his eyes burned with a cold intensity.

"What do you want?" She asked the thing that was in her friend. His eyes flicked down to his crotch where Anderson could see his erection getting hard, he looked back up again with an evil grin on his face.

"It's going to be even more fun now you're not throwing yourself at him." He snarled, pulling her towards him.

Anderson kicked him in the solar plexus and wrenched her wrist from his grip, scurrying back out of the shower. She got to her feet and started to run but he grabbed her ankle and pulled, sending her crashing face first to the floor, knocking the wind from her. He crawled up her body, snagging a fist into her hair and slamming her head down on the tile, before flipping her onto her back, straddling her, pinning her arms to her sides with his legs.

She bucked, trying to flip him off but he was heavy and held his ground. He laughed, a deep-throated cackle that made her blood run cold. "Take it easy, no need to rush. I know how much you were begging for it last night you little whore. I made you love it, and now you can't stop thinking about it can you? You should be thanking me, he never would have fucked you without my help. Not that he hasn't thought about it, but he's always played the perfect little soldier. He knows that once he starts breaking the rules, once he lets the monster off the chain, then there'll be no stopping him." He leaned over and gave her a long wet lick up the side of her face. She closed her eyes, ignored the sensation and concentrated.

Suddenly she was no longer pinned to the floor of her bathroom but stood in a large room she recognised as the academy dojo. Across from her, Dredd was in full uniform, including his helmet, chained to the wall in an X position by thick metal manacles. Blood was seeping out of deep knife wounds all over his body, running over the black leather and pooling on the mat beneath his feet. She moved to free him but suddenly a man appeared blocking her path. He was tall, as tall as Dredd but even bigger built. He was shirtless to showcase rippling muscles but his face was in constant shadow, no matter how she moved she couldn't see his face.

He stood in a boxer's ready stance, drew back his fist and then punched her in the face, causing her head to snap back. Anderson spat blood on the floor and drew her fists up, if he wanted to play then she'd play. In a blink of an eye she switched her uniform for a sports bra and black loose fitting trousers, fists wrapped in tape, standard sparring attire at the academy. If they were going toe to toe in a dojo, she figured she may as well look the part. It wouldn't make her faster or more agile, as it was a mental projection she would be as fast as she could imagine herself to be, but it helped to centre her, just like she was sure that consciously or not, Dredd had imagined himself in uniform to help protect himself.

She circled around the shadowy man, making sure she was light on her feet, feinting a few jabs. She used a front kick which he blocked easily but he swept her leg to the side offering her the chance to put her foot down and follow up with an unexpected roundhouse with the other leg. Her roundhouse caught him in the chest and propelled him backwards.

He recovered quickly and came at her harder, putting huge amounts of force into each blow. But while his fighting technique relied on a combination of speed and strength it was routed in real world mechanics. Anderson dodged each blow easily, moving faster than humanly possible to do so, and landing blows back on him with equal intensity. It was odd, for such a powerful psychic she expected more imagination. But then she saw another figure, a pale, thin man with a balding head stood in the corner of the room, watching with a quiet intensity.

She turned her attention to the balding man, dodging the next blow by the shadowy man and racing to the corner of the room. She threw a punch at the balding man, but as she did he disappeared, dematerialising on the other side of the room. Two could play at that game, she decided and imagined herself to the other side of the room with him. This time the balding man let her punch him. Her fist went straight through him. His image shimmered in front of her and he smiled.

Suddenly, the huge shadowy man grabbed her from behind. She used the wall in front of her to run up it and twist out of his grip, her body flipping straight over his head to land on the mat behind him. He turned and snarled and attacked again. Anderson returned with a side kick/roundhouse combo and then used the wall once again, running up it and using it to push off and land a double footed kick to his face.

The shadowy man spat blood and grinned, attacking wildly again. He was inexperienced in this, Anderson knew, he could only fight according to his reality, she should be quite rightly kicking his ass, but the problem was his ego. She doubted that he knew he was doing it but it appeared he was unable to conceive of the idea that she could hurt him, and as a result all her hits did little damage.

He continued his onslaught and with her sudden doubts about success, his hits were starting to land. But then she felt a presence behind the shadowy man and suddenly two great manacled hands landed either side of his head and twisted. The shadowy man fell back to the floor, neck snapped and Anderson looked up at the inscrutable mask of Dredd who had torn himself from the wall, leaving giant holes in the concrete where the manacles had been attached. Suddenly, with a jolt, she was back on her bathroom floor and Dredd was back to being naked and scrambling away from her.

"Shit! Are you okay?" She asked, sitting up and looking at Dredd who had crawled back into the shower cubicle and was staring at his hand that was covered in the blood that was pouring from his nose. He looked up at her but didn't answer, clearly he wasn't sure. He stood up on unsteady legs and shut the water off, taking the towel the young woman offered him and wrapping it around his waist.

"The nosebleeds happen sometimes. You had a lot of people in your head. It'd be enough to give anyone an aneurysm."

Dredd grunted, clearly unimpressed with the explanation.

"The bald guy was the one who touched you right?" She continued, "he was the one who knew what he was doing, psychically speaking. But he didn't seem to hold any animosity towards you. It's like he's acting as a conduit for the other guy. The other guy wasn't a psychic at all but he's the one with all the anger. I couldn't see his face, could you?"

Dredd wiped the slowing trickle of blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked in the steamed up mirror. "I didn't have to. He's my brother."