“Déjà Vu”
by Andra Marie MuellerPart 2
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
Some time later, Jessica and Scully were sequestered inside the Doggett home, all too aware of John’s absence. The twins were upstairs in their bedroom fast asleep, not completely understanding the concept of death but knowing enough to understand that Doggett would not be coming home again. After breaking the news to her children, Jessica had phoned her sister-in-law Emily in Georgia, the resulting conversation brief but emotion packed. As if sensing the somber mood, even the dogs were unusually quiet and were upstairs dozing in the children’s bedroom.
As Scully puttered around in the kitchen, making coffee and cleaning up, Jessica positioned herself by the window, staring out at the reporters who were slowly beginning to gather outside.
“They’re like a flock of vultures waiting for a chance to pick at the carcass,” she observed grimly.
Overhearing the remark, Scully walked across the room to stand beside her, and followed her gaze out the window. “Are those reporters?” she asked. “How did they find out so fast?”
“John is…was…a federal agent and the son-in-law of a United States Senator,” Jessica reminded her. “His death was bound to make the news.”
The petite redhead gave her a sideways glance. “As long as we’re on the subject, maybe you should put a call into Elizabeth and tell her what’s happened.”
The beautiful blonde snorted. “When hell freezes over,” she declared. “She can see it on the news or read it in tomorrow’s paper like everybody else.”
“Are you going to invite her to the memorial service?”
“I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Right now I’m still trying to deal with getting through the rest of today.”
Scully smiled. “Well so far you’re doing a rather admirable job of holding it together,” she remarked.
“I don’t have a choice,” Jessica responded. “I have to think of the twins. They’re too young to fully comprehend what’s happened, and I need to be strong for them.”
“They’ll be asleep for quite a while, so if you want a shoulder to cry on, mine’s available.”
“Thanks for the offer, Dana, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I’m afraid that if I start crying again, I may never stop.”
Any response from Scully was prevented by the arrival of Mulder, who strolled into the living room and greeted them with a small smile. “I saw the wagons beginning to circle out front so I parked down the street and came in the back door,” he replied.
“What happened with Skinner?” Scully asked.
Mulder shrugged. “He’s convinced that Kersh is going to use what happened today as an excuse to shut down the X files once and for all,” he answered.
“Maybe he should,” Jessica replied softly.
Surprise flickered across Mulder’s face. “Excuse me?”
She shifted her gaze to meet his. “Maybe he should,” she repeated. “At least that way it would reduce the body count.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” her brother demanded.
“You’re an intelligent person,” the captain evaded. “You figure it out. I’m going upstairs to check on the twins, and then I’d like some time alone. I’m certain you can see yourselves out.”
Without waiting for a response, Jessica made her way through the living room and vanished up the stairs.
“What was that all about?” Mulder wondered aloud.
“It was probably just her grief talking, Mulder,” Scully said. “She’s hurt and she’s angry, and she’s using you as a target. She’ll get over it in a few days.”
He glanced in the direction of the stairs. “I hope so.”
**********************************
WASHINGTON D.C.
Five days later, Doggett’s family and friends gathered at Saint John’s Baptist Church for his memorial service. Reyes’ service had been held the day before, and Jessica had exchanged condolences with her mother and stepfather. Despite her lingering issues with Elizabeth, Jessica had allowed her to be present for Doggett’s memorial, and the Senator had sat with Sarah and her children. Emily Doggett Parker was present with her family, as were many of Doggett’s friends from the Corps and the NYPD, and a military honor guard. At Jessica’s request, his former partner Duke Tomasick had delivered Doggett’s eulogy, and his recollection of time spent with his late friend brought those gathered to tears and laughter. Once he had finished, he crossed over to exchange a warm hug with Jessica, then he resumed his seat as the reverend concluded the memorial. Afterward, Jessica stood near the altar as various friends and acquaintances approached her to offer their sympathies, and the elegant blonde forced a smile as she acknowledged each one. She was finishing an exchange with one of the people who knew Doggett from the Bureau when a familiar voice whispered in her ear.
“Excuse me, pretty lady, but can you tell me how to get to Mexico?”
Jessica turned around and found herself face to face with Brett Griffin, the Marine turned mercenary whom Elizabeth had hired to find the Doggetts in Mexico three years ago. “Brett,” she greeted simply, and gave him a quick hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“I only wish it had been under better circumstances,” Griffin responded. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about John, Jessica. He was one of the best.”
“The best,” Jessica corrected.
Griffin smiled, then caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and shifted to see the twins hovering near Mulder and Scully.
“Are those the wonder twins I’ve heard so much about?” he asked.
“Yes. Grace and Matthew.”
He watched them for a moment before returning his attention to the woman in front of him. “They’re beautiful kids, Jessica, and are perfect miniatures of you and John.”
She smiled at that. “Well Grace is a little shy, but Matthew all ready shows signs of having inherited John’s ‘take no prisoners’ attitude,” she told him. “I shudder to think what he’s going to be like in a few more years.”
“He comes from good stock,” Griffin countered. “He’ll do you proud.”
“I’m sure he will.”
“Well, I should probably make myself scarce before one of these fellows with a gun and a badge decides to make my acquaintance,” Griffin replied. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Eventually,” Jessica allowed, silently adding, I hope. “Thank you for coming. John would have been pleased to know you were here.”
“I only wish I could have done something to prevent him from getting himself killed,” Griffin said.
Jessica shot a quick glance at Mulder. “John isn’t the one I’m holding responsible for his death.”
Griffin’s eyes widened in curiosity. “Are you saying that your brother is somehow at fault?” he prompted.
“I’m not saying anything,” Jessica evaded. “Take care of yourself, Brett, and don’t wait another three years before dropping by.”
“I won’t.”
The two exchanged a hug, and Griffin disappeared into the crowd just as Jessica was approached by a trio of familiar faces. The Gunmen were all attired in suits and clearly uncomfortable, but nonetheless they presented a united sympathetic front for Jessica.
“Captain,” Byers greeted. “I’m so sorry about Agent Doggett.”
“We all are,” Langley added.
“He may have been a pain in the ass most of the time, but when the chips were down you knew he’d be there for you,” Frohike said.
Jessica gave them a warm smile. “I appreciate you guys being here. John would never admit it, but he genuinely liked you.”
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Byers asked.
“Thank you for offering, but no.”
“If you need anything, day or night, you call us,” Frohike told her. “You and the kids are family, just like Mulder and Scully and Will.”
Her smile widened. “Thanks guys,” she replied.
The Gunmen smiled back and she gave them each a hug before they exited the church. Once they had left, Jessica glanced around the church and allowed herself a relieved sigh when she saw that she was alone. Crossing over to the pews, she settled herself in the first one and took a moment to enjoy her solitude before speaking aloud to the empty room.
“I’ve never asked for much from you, God,” she began. “I’ve tried to live my life according to your word and never complained when you felt it necessary to throw roadblocks on the path of my life. I accepted the loss of three children, a father and a brother with nary a complaint, holding onto the belief that you knew what you were doing. But know you’ve taken John, too, and that’s the one sacrifice I can’t accept. He was my light, and my joy. Yet for some unfathomable reason he was stolen from me, and our children. That is something I won’t forgive.”
“Jessica?”
The captain turned at the sound of her name and saw Scully standing a few feet away.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
She gave her sister-in-law a small smile. “I’m fine, Dana. Just taking a few moments to sort things out with the Man upstairs and enjoy the solitude.”
Scully returned her smile. “Dealing with all the people who want to extend their sympathies can be a bit overwhelming,” she allowed, and settled in the pew next to Jessica.
“It wasn’t supposed to end like this, Dana,” Jessica said softly. “John was a part of my life in one form or another for thirty-four years, and I’ve spent my entire adult life loving him. Now he’s dead, and I have to learn how to live without him. I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can and you will, in time. Allow yourself the chance to grieve, and try to find comfort in knowing that a part of him will always be with you in Grace and Matthew.”
“I am grateful that I have the twins, but right now that doesn’t seem to ease the pain. He was everything to me, Dana. With all the things that have happened in my life, John was the one constant I could depend on; my beacon of light at the end of any tunnel. As corny as it sounds, he was my hero. How do I move past that? How do I get on with my life when the person who was the embodiment of my soul can never be here to share it with me?”
Scully had no response, and wordlessly enveloped Jessica in a comforting hug.
**********************************
FALLS CHURCH
That evening, Jessica returned home alone after taking the twins to Sarah Caldwell’s. Emotionally exhausted after the day’s events, she had wanted some time alone to sort through Doggett’s effects and mourn without fear of upsetting their children. After trading in her suit for a pair of jeans and her well worn “Property of John Doggett” T-shirt, she headed downstairs to make herself a cup of tea. Entering the kitchen, she crossed over to the cabinets and reached up to open one, only to discover Doggett’s personalized coffee mug sitting in front of the other ones. Taking it off the shelf, Jessica stared at it for a moment before suddenly turning and hurling the mug against the far wall.
“Damn you, John Doggett!” she shouted at the empty room. “Damn you for dying and leaving me to live the rest of my life without you!”
Overcome with a sudden wave of rage, she grabbed the dishes drying in the sink and smashed them on the floor. The commotion caused the dogs to come in from the backyard and see what the ruckus was about, but Jessica was too angry to notice them. Striding out of the kitchen, she made her way back up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Walking over to the closet, she began yanking Doggett’s clothes off their hangers and tossing them into a pile on the floor. Halfway through his wardrobe, her anger spent itself, and she collapsed into a sobbing heap atop the clothing.
“Oh, God…John…I miss you…”
She lay there for several minutes, curled into a fetal position and crying incoherently as her pain and anger poured out in her tears. Eventually, however, the ring of the phone forced her to stop crying, and she reluctantly rose to her feet before crossing over to the nightstand to answer it. “Hello?”
“Is Jessica Doggett available?” a feminine voice asked.
“This is she.”
“Captain Doggett, this is Amy from Doctor Barnes’ office. I was calling to set up an appointment for you to come in for your ultrasound.”
“Ultrasound?” Jessica echoed. “For what?”
“I’m sorry, Captain; I though the doctor had all ready called to give you the news.”
“What news?” Jessica pressed.
“We received your blood work back from the lab and you’re approximately ten weeks pregnant.” Amy told her.
Jessica felt her heart skip a beat, and she abruptly sat down on the bed. “Pregnant?” she repeated in a near whisper.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She closed her eyes as a fresh round of tears threatened to spill over. John should have been here for this, she mused sadly.
“Captain Doggett, are you there?” Amy asked.
“Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry.”
“Given your history, Doctor Barnes would like to do the ultrasound as soon as possible,” Amy said. “Would you be available Monday afternoon at 4:00?”
“Four o’clock Monday is fine. Thank you.”
Jessica replaced the receiver in its cradle and stared at the phone in silence, overwhelmed by the discovery that she was expecting.
At least that explains why I haven’t been able to eat breakfast for the past couple of weeks, she thought wryly, and then spoke aloud as she addressed her dead husband. “Well Sunshine that’s another item on the list,” she said. “First you get yourself killed helping Fox track down E.T. and now I’ve got another child who will grow up not knowing his or her father. Wherever you are, I hope you know just how much you’ve left behind.”
Sighing heavily, the captain rose to her feet and resumed the task of sorting through Doggett’s clothes.
**********************************
FBI HEADQUARTERS
The following afternoon, Jessica arrived at the Hoover Building in response to a call from Skinner inviting her to be present for the interrogation of Greg Burlinski. Although not necessarily ready or able to face the man presumed responsible for her husband’s death, she also needed to retrieve Doggett’s personal effects from his office. So out of necessity she had agreed to be there. Steeling herself for the coming confrontation, she rode the elevator to the third floor and made her way down the hall to Skinner’s office. His assistant Kristy was at her desk when she approached and flashed the older woman a friendly smile.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” she greeted. “Please accept my sympathies on the death of Agent Doggett. He was a good man.”
“Yes he was,” Jessica agreed. “Thank you. Is A.D. Skinner in his office?”
“Yes, Ma’am. He’s expecting you, so go right in.”
Steeling herself against the emotions whirling within her, Jessica knocked once and then let herself into Skinner’s office. Mulder was standing beside the door, and Burlinksi was seated across from Skinner.
“Captain Doggett,” Skinner greeted. “Thank you for coming.”
Jessica acknowledged him with a slight nod of her head but remained silent, her attention focused on Burlinski as she took position beside Mulder.
“Lieutenant Burlinski, why don’t you start by telling us why you sent Agents Doggett and Mulder to that building the morning of the explosion?” Skinner prompted.
“The building was being used for medical experiments involving alien DNA,” Burlinski answered evenly. “There are two others similar to it in Europe, one of which my men and I were assigned to expose when they were killed. No doubt the people running these facilities are attempting to cover their tracks by eliminating the witnesses.”
“So it’s your contention that the same group of people involved with the deaths of your men is responsible for the explosion that killed Agent Reyes and Agent Doggett?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t suppose you actually know who any of these mysterious people are?” Mulder interjected.
“I don’t have specific names, but it is my understanding they refer to themselves as ‘The Syndicate’. And given the level of deception regarding what my men and I were really doing overseas, it’s a safe assumption that some or all of them are high ranking officials within our own government.”
“This is starting to have a familiar ring,” Jessica muttered under her breath.
Skinner picked up a file that lay open on his desk, and glanced at it briefly before returning his attention to Burlinski. “According to the preliminary file Agent Mulder and Agent Doggett had created for your case, they were unable to find a single person to corroborate your story,” he said. “Agent Doggett spoke to several officers at Naval Headquarters, including your direct superior, and they all state that your men were killed during a routine training exercise.”
“The American public isn’t ready to deal with the reality of the existence of extraterrestrials, Mister Skinner. If the government were to admit that they were all ready in the process of medical experimentation involving alien DNA, it would create a national panic. Not to mention the global ramifications if our allies or enemies were to learn we had that kind of advanced technology in our possession.”
“Then why come to us in the first place?” Mulder asked. “If you knew that they would never admit to what they were doing, there seems little point in involving the FBI.”
“Your reputation precedes you, Agent Mulder,” Burlinski responded. “You seem to have a knack for uncovering secrets no one else can. I felt that you might be the one person who could actually expose what was happening.”
“Assuming for the moment that all of this is true,” Skinner interjected, “do you have idea who’s in charge of this Syndicate?”
“I don’t know his name,” Burlinski said, “but my superiors referred to him as ‘The Baron’. Apparently he’s a European nobleman and man of some power who faked his death several years ago, but after his son was killed as a result of his involvement in the conspiracy he resurfaced and claimed control of the Syndicate.”
Jessica glanced at Mulder. “That sounds suspiciously like Frans Stuckhold,” she remarked.
“Dieter’s father?” Mulder prompted.
“Yes.”
“That’s a possibility,” Mulder allowed.
“What does ‘The Baron’ plan to do with these facilities?” Skinner asked.
“That I don’t know, but was hoping Agent Mulder would find be able to find out.”
“Sorry that the murders of my husband and his partner ruined your plans,” Jessica responded bitterly.
“Jessica…”
“Whatever it is, Fox, I don’t want to hear it,” Jessica declared. “And I certainly don’t want to hear anymore about Stuckhold. Mister Skinner, is there anything you can formally charge Lieutenant Burlinski with in regards to the deaths of John and Monica?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Then I’m done here. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retrieve my husband’s personal effects and go home.”
Without waiting for a response, the captain exited Skinner’s office.
*************************************
By the time Mulder reached his office, Jessica had the majority of Doggett’s personal effects packed in the box on his desk. As she dropped his name plate and a pair of family photos into the box, Mulder walked over to stand in front of the desk. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“No I’m not,” Jessica answered tightly.
“I’m sorry about what happened upstairs,” Mulder said. “Skinner should have known better than to ask you to be present for Burlinski’s interrogation.”
“You should have known better than to trust Burlinski’s little tale about the alien medical facility,” his sister countered. “If you cared a little more about your family and friends and a little less about your conspiracy obsession, this conversation would not be happening.”
The captain’s intimation that the current situation was somehow his fault brought to mind the last part of the conversation they’d had the day Doggett and Reyes had been killed.
Mulder shrugged. “He’s convinced that Kersh is going to use what happened today as an excuse to shut down the X files once and for all,” he answered.
“Maybe he should,” Jessica replied softly.
Surprise flickered across Mulder’s face. “Excuse me?”
She shifted her gaze to meet his. “Maybe he should,” she repeated. “At least that way it would reduce the body count.”
“That’s the second time you’ve insinuated that what happened to John and Monica was my fault,” Mulder replied. “The first time was that crack you made the day they died that shutting down the X files would reduce the body count. I’d like to know what you meant by that.”
Jessica glanced at him, anger evident in her refined features. “It means that you’re up to your elbows in other people’s blood, Fox,” she replied. “How many people are dead because of your obsession? Our father, Melissa Scully, Scott Caldwell, Monica and John. How many more people will have to die before you finally stop chasing shadows?”
“That’s not fair…”
“Don’t talk to me about fair!” she snarled. “When you go home tonight, your wife and son will be there, happy and whole. My husband is dead, and my children are without a father, because you wanted to find Burlinski’s alleged proof that alien DNA was being used to perform medical miracles.”
“The truth is out there, Jessica,” Mulder declared. “I owe it to John and Monica and everyone else who was sacrificed because of it to discover the people responsible for their deaths.”
“Why? Because you figure exposing these alleged plots within the government to hide the fact that there are aliens among us will somehow make amends for what the search for that evidence cost? News flash, big brother; it won’t. All of the friends and parents and lovers gone – they’ll still be dead. And I for one won’t find any comfort in knowing that they died to protect other people’s lies.”
“If the people responsible for their deaths are left alone, then they’ve essentially gotten away with murder and John and the others died in vain.”
“They all ready have,” she responded softly. “You’re my brother, Fox, and I love you. But I cannot and will not allow your obsession to affect me any more than it all ready has. I’m pregnant, and I won’t expose this baby or the twins to anyone or anything remotely connected with the X files.”
“What are you saying?” Mulder asked carefully.
“I’m saying that unless and until you decide that your family is more important than your work, I can’t have you in my life, or my children’s.”
“Don’t do this, Jessica.”
“I have to.”
After a cursory check to ensure she had all of Doggett’s belongings, Jessica picked up the box and walked out of the X files office, and her brother’s life.
*************************************
PARIS, FRANCE
He came to slowly, vaguely aware of his aching body and a sense of disorientation. His eyelids felt heavy and it took several attempts before he was able to fully open his eyes. His vision was blurred, and his eyes burned ever so slightly, and he blinked several times to clear his vision. Once he had, he immediately realized he was not in his own bed.
I‘m in a hospital, he surmised silently.
It was then that he noticed his hands were heavily bandaged, as well as his face, and judging from the itching around his ribs and abdomen, his ribcage was bandaged as well. He was surrounded by medical monitors, and an IV led into his left arm.
I must’ve been in pretty bad shape after the warehouse exploded, he deduced. I just hope to God Jess is okay.
“Good morning,” an unfamiliar accented voice greeted and Doggett glanced toward the source as a man of perhaps sixty walked over to stand beside him. “I am Doctor Laurent. How do you feel?”
Doggett ignored the doctor’s question and posed one of his own, though speaking aloud caused his throat to hurt. “Where am I?” he asked, his voice raspier than usual.
“In a private medical facility on the outskirts of Paris,” Laurent revealed.
“Paris?” Doggett echoed. “As in France? How the hell did I get to France?”
“That, Monsieur, is a long story,” Laurent evaded. “Are you in any pain?”
“I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of elephants, but nothin’ specific is hurtin’ at the moment.”
“Good. The medication should keep your discomfort to a minimum.”
“Where’s my wife?” Doggett demanded.
“Madame Doggett is home with your children, no doubt mourning your loss.”
“You wanna explain that remark?”
“It means that your wife – along with everyone who knows you – believes you are dead,” Laurent clarified. “The fire caused by the explosion at the hospice in Washington burned the building and everything inside of it to ashes, your partner and presumably you included. My sources tell me the investigators even managed to find your wedding band amongst the ashes.”
“Well why the hell didn’t you tell your ‘sources’ that I’m not dead?” Doggett demanded.
“Because, Monsieur, that may yet be your fate.”
The calm statement cut through Doggett’s anger like a blade through butter. “Care to elaborate on that?” he prompted.
“You were brought here two weeks ago, the day after you were assumed killed in the explosion,” Laurent told him. “When we arrived at the hospice that morning, your body was laying in one of the examination rooms. Your most obvious injuries were the burns to your face and hands from the fire. Further examination revealed that your facial bones and several ribs were fractured, and you were suffering from internal bleeding due to a ruptured kidney. It was a miracle you were alive at all, let alone that you survived the flight.”
“Who brought me here?” Doggett asked.
“Your benefactor has chosen to remain anonymous, but the list of possibilities is a short one. Less than two dozen people know of the existence of this clinic.”
“I’d like to see that list.”
“Perhaps in time, if and when you have recovered.”
The evasive answer irked Doggett but he let it pass and instead asked, “So what exactly have you done to me?”
“We repaired your kidney and stopped the bleeding, after which we set your ribs and replaced the burned skin on your hands. They were on the border between deep second degree and third degree burns, but none of your muscles were compromised, so after the immobilization period they should heal quite nicely. We did a preliminary skin graft to repair the burned skin on your face as best we could, but as fourth degree burns they are quite severe. Your skin was almost entirely gone and your facial muscles were exposed. Those suffered minor burns as well. The skin grafts will be compromised by the reconstructive surgery, so they will have to be redone once we’ve repaired the fractured facial bones.”
Doggett felt his stomach turn at the recitation of his injuries. “Sounds like I’m in for a hell of a ride,” he remarked, forcing a casualness he didn’t feel into his tone.
“That would be an accurate assessment,” Laurent allowed. “We cannot begin the facial surgery until your body has had time to recover from your other injuries. If we attempt too much too soon, your system will go into shock and you will die.”
“You said ‘reconstructive surgery’. Isn’t that the same as plastic surgery?”
“No. Plastic surgery is purely cosmetic; the removal of wrinkles or scars and the like. Reconstructive surgery involves the actual rebuilding of your facial structure; implanting new bones to replace those shattered in the explosion. Once the foundation has been restored, the process of repairing the burned skin can begin. But I will forewarn you, Monsieur, that it will be a long and extremely painful process.”
“Am I gonna look like a ringer for Frankenstein’s monster?”
“No. The scarring will be minimal, and your new face will be identical to the old one.”
Laurent fell silent then, and Doggett took a moment to absorb what the Frenchman had told him before responding. “So what you’re tellin’ me is that I’m basically going to go through hell and back, but when I’m done I’ll be as good as new?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really expect me to believe this little story?”
Laurent flashed him an indulgent smile. “I have no reason to lie to you, Monsieur Doggett. If I wanted you dead, I simply would have allowed you to succumb to your injuries.”
“So why didn’t you? You obviously know who was responsible for blowin’ up the hospice in D.C., and they just as obviously wanted me dead.”
“Let us just say that as one father to another, I do not wish for your children to grow up without you. I would suggest, however, that if you wish to live long enough to see them reach adulthood, you will think twice the next time an angry, bitter man comes to you with tales of government conspiracies and cover-ups.”
“Would that be Greg Burlinski, or Fox Mulder?” Doggett prompted dryly.
“Take your pick,” Laurent responded. “Get some rest, Monsieur. You have a long road ahead of you.”
On that note, Laurent exited the room, leaving Doggett alone to ponder his predicament. Neither man noticed the figure hovering just outside of Doggett’s room, his breathing labored, and he stood outside the door for a moment longer before fading back into the shadows.
***************************************