Title: If Only
Author: Gracie
E-mail: kruggi@aol.com
Spoilers: Via Negativa
Rating: PG-13
Keywords: Doggett angst
Summary: Doggett deals with unfamiliar feelings.

Disclaimer:  The X-Files is the sole property of Fox, 1013 and Chris 
Carter.  No infringement is intended.

Author's notes at end.

*******


The snow ended in the early afternoon.  Doggett toyed with the idea of 
going out for a run until the fifteen degree windchill made him 
consider the wisdom of that decision.  Still, he was restless.  The NFL 
playoffs weren't taking away his anxiety.  His house was quiet, relatively 
cozy for a single man.  He was hardly even in it.  Work consumed the bulk 
of his time.  The rest was spent with a tight circle of friends and 
family.  But the holidays were a different story.  Doggett hated them.  
Even though he didn't want to admit it, the truth was the truth.  He was 
relieved that Christmas was over.  Doggett wasn't sorry to see another 
Christmas pass him by.  He was lucky to get through them anymore.  
Actually, he was grateful to get through a night unclouded by dreams and 
disturbing visions.

Tipet.  The Via Negativa.  That had scared Doggett.  And Doggett never 
scared easily.  In front of his wide-screen TV, he pondered the 
nightmares he experienced.  He'd thought of nothing else since Tipet died. 
-Since she found me.-

-She saved me.-

No matter what Agent Scully believed, Doggett still thought it was 
true.  That she had saved him.  And maybe she had.  She just didn't know 
it.

And neither did he.  Not really.  Not yet.

The roar of the crowd on the TV brought him back to life, brought the 
fire back into his blue eyes.  He shifted on his easy chair, feeling 
lazy, wanting to go for that run.  His eyes lifted from the television to 
the front window.  The snow had tapered down to fat flakes that 
spiraled lazily out of the washed gray sky.  The football game wasn't holding 
his interest.  He was restless, cold and tired-tired of thinking and 
pondering and worrying.  And then there were the feelings.  Doggett never 
thought he'd have them again.  Not ever in his life.  This feeling of 
falling into something, a good sort of falling.  Like blissful 
anticipation of something wonderful to come.

Doggett laughed to himself, running a hand through his hair, a nervous 
habit he developed when he was thinking too hard. -Too much inside my 
head.-

He needed to get out, needed to stop watching the flakes fall from the 
sky.  There was shoveling to be done.  Doggett heard the unmistakable 
scrape of metal against blacktop.  His neighbor across the street had 
already started the job of clearing snow.  Doggett knew he should go out, 
knew he should bundle up, get out there with the rest of his neighbors.  
His neighbors could always count on him.  He was the fibbie on the 
block, the resident cop, the protector.  The good guy always there in a 
pinch.  And Doggett loved his roll.  He surely wasn't complaining.  But 
someone else had now diverted his attention.  That someone else who he 
wished would call him right now.  Doggett wished it wasn't Saturday.  He 
wished New Year's Eve wasn't bearing down upon the world.  It meant 
another so-called holiday he'd face alone.  By choice.  Because Doggett 
didn't have to be alone.  The speed dial on his phone was full of people 
he could call-friends, his brother, Ray, his baby sister, Vicki.  
Doggett had had about twenty invitations for New Year's Eve.  But there 
wasn't one he really wanted to accept.  Part of him enjoyed the thought of 
being alone.  He was waiting for something.  

The cordless phone sat on the coffee table.  Whether consciously or 
not, Doggett was paying more attention to the phone than the football 
game.

She wasn't going to call.  Of course she wouldn't call.  He could 
scarcely believe that he was thinking these strange thoughts.  What had 
happened to him?  The feelings he was experiencing-he needed to get out of 
the house for awhile, clear his head.  The game was tied.  It was going 
into overtime.  Doggett could stick around for awhile, see the game 
through.  Better to get out.  He needed to.  He'd just stare at the phone 
some more.  And fantasize about things that would never be.

All ten fingers slipped through the dark blond spikes of his hair.  He 
got up, hearing his knee crack.  Yeah, a run would do him good.  A walk 
at least.  Down to the coffee shop and back.  Say hi to the neighbors.  
Do the good deeds.  He didn't really care who won the game.  He and Ray 
had rooted for the Raiders as kids and the habit stuck, so Doggett 
wasn't too invested in the Colts or the Dolphins.  

It took him awhile to change into jeans, snow boots, a sweater and ski 
jacket.  Still no phone call.  No surprise there.  He'd left an 
innocuous message for Agent Scully that morning about their latest case.  It 
had been put on hold until after New Year's Day.  No working through the 
holiday.  The case hadn't required their immediate attention, but 
Doggett wanted an excuse to call her.  So he had, but Scully hadn't been 
home.  Just as well.  He might have said something he'd surely regret.  
There was a lot on his mind lately.

In the foyer, he bent down, tied the laces on his snow boots.  Pausing, 
hearing nothing except the TV.  Doggett decided to leave it on.  He 
doubted he'd be gone too long.

*****

The snowfall hadn't lived up to its forecasted potential.  But the 
bone-chilling cold remained.  Doggett half-jogged to the coffee shop.  When 
he got there, his lungs felt frozen from the inside out.  Inhaling the 
punishing air, he went inside the crowded shop.  Mostly locals, people 
he saw nearly every morning before heading to FBI headquarters.  A few 
people looked up from newspapers and magazines.  The guy in the corner 
waved to him.  Doggett recognized the young kid working the counter.  
Smiling, Doggett unzipped his jacket.  He felt instantly better.  He 
liked being among people in familiar surroundings.  It made him feel like 
he had a real life, like the past wasn't completely gone from him.  
There had been a time in his life when Doggett did more than work.  Those 
times were over.  But he still felt like he wanted to belong.  He 
wanted to know that he hadn't completely cut himself off from the rest of 
life.

Sauntering up to the counter, he checked to make sure that his cell 
phone was turned on.  It was.  But there was nothing.  Not a peep from the 
little black box.  It rang every other day, except today.

"What can I get you?"

The kid's voice jarred Doggett back to life.  "Coffee.  Black."  It was 
a boring choice in such an eclectic shop, but Doggett had gotten used 
to black coffee in the USMC.  He couldn't give it up.  Curly smiled back 
at him, went to retrieve Doggett's coffee.  Doggett didn't know the 
kid's name, but he nicknamed him Curly after the kid's messy blond curls.  
A mug of steaming black coffee materialized on the counter in front of 
Doggett.  He wrapped his fingers around the porcelain, craving the heat 
from the coffee.  It warmed his cold fingers.

The kid spoke again.  "That's two-fifty."

Doggett fished in his front pocket, pulled out a five.  His gaze locked 
on the kid again.  Doggett figured him to be all of nineteen.  

Shit.  Doggett took his change and coffee and found an empty table near 
the window.  He didn't want to be thinking about Luke again.  Not right 
now.  Too much to forget-old memories.  Would there ever be new ones?

Doggett sat, sipping his coffee, the strong liquid warming his insides.  
The little coffee shop was nearly full now.  The television behind the 
counter was tuned to the game.  Curly was putting mugs away, his eyes 
glued to the game.  Suddenly Doggett wanted that link to normalcy he 
used to have.  His choice of vocation had drifted into bizarre mode.  
Where he had once been just an FBI agent, he was now a member of the 
X-Files, partnered with a woman who didn't want him there, a woman who was 
pining for someone else.

He gulped more coffee, his attention focused on the football game.  He 
knew he should go home or maybe even go to the office.  There had to be 
another way to get through the next couple of days until Tuesday.  Then 
he could go back to work and regain his focus again.  He wouldn't be 
thinking about her.

Dana Scully.  -God, where are these feelings coming from?-

His hands, rough and chapped from the cold, gripped the coffee mug.  
Tight, white-knuckling the white porcelain,  he knew he should turn off 
his cell, let things go until Tuesday when he went back into the office.  
And then what?  He didn't know, wasn't even sure he could really 
process what he was feeling.  All that stuff with Tipet.  It got in his head, 
made him fall apart.  Skinner had told him, in so many words, that he 
had relied too heavily on Agent Scully.  As Skinner had said, Doggett 
was a good agent.  And he was a part of the X-Files now.  Whether he 
liked it or not.  He was a member of this bigger thing, this division of 
the FBI that he couldn't come to terms with and sure as hell didn't 
believe in.  Yet, he had done the best job he could do.  That's when the 
case with Tipet came along.  Those visions of Agent Scully-they couldn't 
be a part of him.  Doggett didn't think that way.

The nightmares came and went.  He and Agent Scully didn't have too much 
to say to each other after that morning she woke him up.   Doggett 
didn't know what to think about that.  She had lived up to everything he'd 
heard about her.  The stories, the rumors-

-Ice queen.  Heart of stone.-

Sure, he'd seen evidence of these descriptions.  Scully wasn't exactly 
showing him any warm and fuzzy feelings.  There was still 
something-indescribable, undeniable-Doggett couldn't put his finger on what it was.  
When everything told him to give up on her, he couldn't put in for that 
transfer.  He'd made her a promise, that he'd find Mulder.  Doggett 
could only hope he wouldn't lose himself in the process.

His phone still didn't ring.  He held the little black box in his hand.  
As if he could will it to ring.  What he would say to her, he didn't 
really know.  He hadn't really thought about that when he left the 
message.  But he knew he wanted to say something.  And there was one thing he 
knew for sure-he wanted to know something more about the woman he swore 
he would protect.

And he knew she was keeping a powerful secret.

*****

"I doubt she'll call, man.  They never do."  

Doggett looked up from the bottom of his coffee cup.  The kid, the 
curly-haired one, was wiping the table across from where Doggett sat.  
Oddly enough, the kid was probably speaking the truth.  

A smile played across Doggett's features.  "I'm just hanging out, kid.  
Just having a cup of coffee."

The kid smiled, a brilliant smile full of white teeth.  "You've been 
staring at the bottom of that cup for an hour now."

Doggett pushed the cup away with the tips of his fingers.

"Look," Curly continued.  "I'm sorry.  I see you come in here every now 
and then.  My girlfriend just dumped me.  I know what's it's like to 
wait for a phone call that never comes."

"And it's New Year's Eve," Doggett whispered.

"Yeah, it's fucking New Year's Eve.  I'm working 'til eleven."

Doggett gave the kid a hard, patented stare.  Regarded him.  The kid 
was perceptive, but he wasn't about to engage a nineteen year old in 
conversation.  Especially when it involved his personal life.

-Since when did Agent Scully become your personal life?-

Pushing the chair back, Doggett stood.  "Thanks for the advice, kid."

"What advice?"

"The part where you said they never call."

"So it is a woman, then?"

Doggett managed to smile a little.  He left the coffee shop as darkness 
began to descend.  Without thinking, Doggett ran.  Harder and faster.  
All the way home.

*****

His lungs hurt.  Ice cold, Doggett shivered in his foyer.  His first 
thought was to check the machine.  He clomped into the kitchen.  The 
solid red light on the answering machine stared up at him.  No messages.  
Just as he figured.  No phone call.  He slid his cell out of his pocket, 
hit the power button.  Enough was enough.  He'd get through the 
weekend, go to work on Tuesday.  Talk to her then.  No more of these uninvited 
feelings.  He didn't want them, surely didn't ask for them.

The phone rang.  Doggett lunged for it.  "Hello?"

"Agent Doggett?"

So much for never calling.  "Agent Scully."

"I got your message."  Her voice wasn't exactly filled with joy at the 
prospect of finding a message from Doggett on her machine.  He was 
getting used to her icy demeanor.

"Um-yeah-well, I just, you know, I had a few questions."

"That couldn't wait until Tuesday?"

She sounded like she didn't want to be bothered.  And Doggett was 
stuttering like he was back in high school, trying to get up the courage to 
ask the head cheerleader out on a date.  This was crazy.  He was an 
adult.  "The X-Files aren't exactly my forte."

He could hear her smile.  "So I've noticed."  Her voice was softer now.  
Gentle.  Doggett relaxed against the kitchen counter.

"I guess the last case still has me riled a little-maybe because I had 
to go through it without you."  His own honesty surprised him, but the 
words were out there, and he couldn't take them back.

"I apologize for that-"

"No, it's okay."  He waved the air as if she were standing in his 
kitchen, right there to see him.  "You're entitled to personal time.  I have 
to try and deal with this new assignment."

"And I haven't exactly been very accommodating."

"You've been fine," he said quietly.

"So much for honesty."  

He swore he heard her laugh a little.  "Well, we were doing well for a 
moment."  And then, he took a chance.  "What are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Well, it is New Year's Eve."

There was silence on the line.  What had he been thinking?  He was 
trying to make conversation and this what he'd come up with.  She would 
think the worst.  She'd think he was asking her-

"I'm going out tonight."  She paused, then rushed on.  "My mom and 
I-we're having a small dinner at her house.   I'm late as it is.  I should 
probably get going."

There was more information in that one statement than he'd gotten from 
her all the weeks that he'd known her.  "I should let you get going 
then."

"I'll see you on Tuesday," she offered.

He nodded, saying nothing.

"Happy New Year, Agent Doggett."

All he could do was return the sentiment.  "Happy New Year, Agent 
Scully."  It was so formal, so wrong somehow.  He didn't know why it felt 
all wrong.  It just did.  If she'd said something different, maybe he 
wouldn't feel so-

What?

He was listening to a dial tone.  She had hung up.  Doggett stood 
there, the phone still at his ear.  Listening to nothing.  He hung up the 
phone.

It was too late to drum up some New Year's plans.  He had declined all 
the parties, the invitations.  He was alone.  That was fine.  He was 
used to it.

He just wasn't used to the nightmares.

*****

John Doggett fell asleep at five minutes to midnight.  Dick Clark was 
on his television.  The ball swayed high over Times Square.  He tried to 
make it to midnight.  It was bad luck not to watch the countdown.  
Doggett couldn't believe he was superstitious, but some things were a 
carry-over from his childhood.  Staying up until midnight on New Year's Eve.  
Ringing in the new year.  A time-honored tradition in the Doggett 
house.  But on this night, his blue eyes closed.  A dream came to him, one 
he would remember little of when he woke up the next morning.

This dream did not frighten him.  It was not reminiscent of Tipet's Via 
Negativa.  If anything, the dream made Doggett happy.  If only for a 
little while.

The dream was of a child.  Not of Luke, as it had been so many times in 
the past.  Luke was always a part of his life.  Nothing would change 
that.  This child was different.  This child was a little girl.  With red 
curls.

And big blue eyes.  

Somewhere in the dark distance, he heard Dana Scully calling to 
someone.

-To Agent Mulder-

-No, Agent Doggett,-  a voice answered in the dark.  -She is calling to 
you.-

End

Author's Notes:  Though I've loved reading XF fanfic, I never wanted to 
write my own.  Until now.  I've been a great fan of MSR (and still am) 
but I love Doggett as well.  Since there's so much wonderful MSR out 
there, I thought--why not write a Doggett fic?  I'd like to continue 
this, but I'm not sure if anyone's interested in reading it.  I'd love 
feedback.  Send me an e-mail at kruggi@aol.com.

Thanks for reading!