Title: Interregnum V: Connections (1/1)
Author: Horatio
E-mail: Horatio1013@aol.com
Summary: Scully and Doggett find that a little sun, a
little sand, and a little conversation make for a healing
prescription.
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Category: Scully/Doggett vignette, Doggett-friendly
Spoilers: General season 8; takes place between Per Manum
and This Is Not Happening. Includes slight spoilers for
TINH and Empedocles.
Archive: Fine with me! Just let me know so I can visit.
Disclaimer: Characters from the X-Files are the property of
Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Television Network. No
infringement is intended, and no money is being made from
this endeavor.
Notes: This story is part of a loosely-knit series of
Doggett/Scully vignettes that take place in a slightly
altered season 8 emotional landscape. While each stands
alone for the most part, the stories make most sense if
they are read in order. This story takes place a few days
after the events of "Interregnum IV: Obstructions." As with
many of the stories in this series, there is a smidgen of
S/D UST, with emphasis on the U.
Many thanks to Catherine for her background info on Florida
beaches. This one's for you, pal. :-)
INTERREGNUM V:
CONNECTIONS
"Dollars to donuts, Agent Arnold wouldn't recognize a real
crime if it came up and bit him on the ass."
John Doggett stood aside for Dana Scully to enter the
elevator, then stepped in and pressed the button for the
basement. He went on, "Next time Skinner schedules one of
those meetings, make sure we're in Poughkeepsie or
somewhere investigatin' bodies with mysterious claw marks."
"Statisticians rarely have any personal experience with the
matters they analyze," Scully said dryly.
"Yeah, well, if I have to sit through one more of his pie
chart presentations, I'm gonna throw something. And it's
not gonna be a pie."
Carefully concealing how much his grumbling amused her,
Scully preceded him out of the elevator and down the hall
to their office.
Her partner was on a roll. "I've never understood why we
have to put up with those meetings anyway," he said,
tossing a fat report onto his desk. "Look at this stuff we
gotta read. Takes time away from doing our work."
"Well, data does sometimes provide useful information."
Scully looked at her watch. "I'm going to head home, Agent
Doggett. We'll catch up on that Florida report tomorrow
before we leave for Knoxville."
"I think I'll work on it a little more before I go. See
you tomorrow, Agent Scully."
She tossed him a wave, and his eyes followed her out of the
office. As her heels made a staccato tap-tap down the
corridor, Doggett sank wearily into his chair. Damn
meetings. He reopened the report he had been working on,
and began typing.
Fifteen minutes later he was pulling on his jacket when the
phone rang. "Can't even get out the door," he muttered
irritably. "Doggett!" he snapped into the phone. As he
listened, the irritation left his face. "No, she's not
here." He frowned. "No, don't do that, Danny. I'll get it
and take it to her myself." He lowered the receiver into
its cradle as deep lines etched his brow.
He had let himself forget about this. He had let himself
relax. He had, two days ago, let himself feel a brief
moment of happiness.
He should have known better.
* * *
Two days earlier
near Sebastian Inlet, Florida
"So, what's this?" Scully looked inquiringly at Doggett as
he pulled the car into a rough turnout and killed the
ignition. Alongside them rose a mound of scrub-covered
sand dunes common to this stretch of the Florida coast.
"I thought you and that baby of yours could use some fresh
air after bein' shut up in the morgue all day."
Scully sat for a moment looking at him. "Oh," was all she
said.
He got out of the car, and she followed suit, watching him
curiously as he came around to her side. He stepped around
her and shut the passenger door, which she seemed to have
forgotten.
"After you," he said, gesturing toward the dunes.
Casting him one more curious glance, Scully began to
climb up through the sand and scrubby brush. A breeze
ruffled her hair, and Doggett smiled.
"Don't you think we should be evaluating the forensic
findings instead of going beach combing?" Scully asked him
over her shoulder.
"We can do it later. You were lookin' kind of pasty."
Scully smiled to herself. Was this the kind of
solicitousness she was to expect now that her pregnancy was
out in the open? She wasn't quite sure how she felt
about it.
They reached the crest of the dunes and paused to survey a
beach as perfect as a postcard. Scully turned to look at her
companion. He was anything but pasty, having spent the past
day and a half outdoors chasing the evidence. The hot
Florida sun had left his skin ruddy and tanned.
"Besides," Doggett continued as they followed the trail down
to the beach, "I think your examination of the bodies will
confirm what I already believe to be true."
"That we're not dealing with a paranormal cause for these
deaths...," she began.
"But plain ol' human maliciousness," he finished.
"Cleverly disguised as demonic possession." Scully sighed.
"I'm afraid you're right this time, Agent Doggett. What we
seem to have here is a simple case of murder. I think it's
been a wasted trip."
"Not so wasted." He pointed with his chin. "There's this."
Scully looked where he had indicated, at the sparkling sea
and a soaring vault of sky. The sun was warm, the breeze
refreshing. She looked back at her partner. The wind had
whipped his tie rakishly over his shoulder, and he was
directing a grin her way, which she found hard not to
return.
"Yes, there's this," she agreed.
They walked at a leisurely pace between the tide line and
the higher, dryer section of the beach where the sun
worshippers basked. Scully found the splash of waves and
the cries of gulls soothing to her ears. She twisted her
head this way and that, trying to work the kinks out of
her neck. "This feels good," she murmured. "Hang on a sec."
Doggett stopped while she bent over to pull off one shoe,
then the other. Her stockings followed, which she tucked
inside the shoes, and they resumed their stroll.
"Want me to carry those?" he asked.
"Thanks, I'm fine." Scully moved closer to the waves,
digging her toes into the wet sand as the surf caressed
her feet. She sucked in a deep breath of salty air. No,
this wasn't a wasted trip.
Doggett, too, drank in the fresh air greedily, as well as
the exquisite surroundings: white sand, turquoise sea, deep
blue sky...and the woman next to him. His admiring eyes
lingered on Scully's palette of black, green, and red. This
is the part of the movie where the boy takes the girl's
hand, he thought. He huffed slightly. Wrong movie.
Despite that one imperfection, John Doggett was content.
They needed this--*she* needed this--after the stresses
of the past week. He glanced at his watch, wondering how
much time they should allow themselves for this little
luxury. Then he noticed Scully staring at his watch, too,
with a strange look. "Something unusual about my watch?" he
asked her.
"Hm? Oh, no. I was just..." She shook her head. "It's
nothing."
"Sure?"
A blush appeared on her cheek. He had caught her out in
something that embarrassed her. What the hell could it be?
She hesitated, then said, "I was just remembering how
strange it seemed at first, your wearing your watch on your
right hand."
He smiled. "Not used to working with a lefty, are you?"
That, and a hundred other things, Scully thought wryly. She
recalled the torment of their first weeks together, of the
countless daily reminders that this man was not Mulder. The
littlest details, like Doggett's watch on the wrong hand,
the color of his hair and eyes, his speech patterns, even
the scent of his after shave, would open the wound of her
loss and fill her with fury.
She added, "I realized I hadn't noticed it for a long
time."
Gradually, imperceptibly, those same details had become
comfortably familiar. She marveled how everything that had
once felt wrong, now felt so very right. John Doggett
didn't have Mulder's languid grace; his chiseled features
were a world removed from Mulder's sensual beauty; his
methodical mind was a different breed from the other man's
phenomenal intellect. And yet all those elements, mental
and physical, were now comfortable and appealing to her
eyes and mind. She even remembered how comfortable it had
felt to kiss this man.
Scully dropped her eyes and shook the memory out of her
mind. She wouldn't go there again. It was too confusing.
But she couldn't stop herself from wondering what it
would be like when Mulder returned. (He *will* return,
she recited the familiar mantra.) Kersh would probably
reassign Doggett to another division. She might never see
him again, except in passing in the hallways. The thought
made her sad, and she frowned.
Doggett had been watching her. "Anything wrong?" he
asked.
Startled, Scully looked up at her partner. "Um, no. I was
just--just thinking about that case that came across our
desks before we left," she lied.
"The deaths by supposed spontaneous combustion?"
"Yes, those."
"Well, you're the expert. Think we should handle it?"
Scully took in his raised eyebrows and questioning face.
She didn't think she would ever get used to being deferred
to as the agent-in-charge of the X-Files. Nevertheless, she
confessed to herself that there was something about it that
felt good. "As much as I don't like to admit it, I think
there are enough irregularities in the forensic data to
warrant our taking a look."
"All right. Knoxville, was it? When shall I book tickets
for?"
She regarded him for a moment. No, she didn't think she'd
ever get used to it. The moment dragged on, and Doggett
finally said, "Agent Scully? Would you rather I didn't?"
She shook herself. "No, no, that's fine." Distractedly
she tucked a blowing lock of hair behind her ear.
Her expression was pensive, and she seemed to Doggett very
far away. "Somethin' the matter?" he asked.
Scully looked down, away from him. "I'm not used to being
asked," she said quietly.
They walked a few steps in silence. Doggett turned his eyes
to his feet. Did he want to open this door? What the hell.
"By Mulder, you mean?" he asked.
She nodded, still not looking at him.
"Well, people are different. And besides, I guess the X-
Files was his bailiwick. He started it, headed it up."
"Yes. Yes, he did. That's another thing that's taken some
adjustment."
"Bein' in charge?"
"Being in charge of *this*, of the X-Files." She stopped
and turned away from him to face the surf. The breeze
continued to blow steadily, so Doggett stepped up next to
her to hear her words. "I've headed up forensic teams," she
said, "I've taught classes. I don't have a problem with
authority per se. But this--" She shook her head. "It
really was his..."
Doggett waited. A wave crashed, and Scully turned to face
him. "Do you want to sit?"
He was brought up short by the non sequitur, but said,
"Sure," and followed her up to the dry sand. "You're
tired," he observed with sudden realization and concern.
"Just my legs. From being on my feet for hours."
She settled cross-legged on the sand, while Doggett plopped
next to her and rested his arms on his knees. Not far away
two teenagers lay, oiled and baking, on a blanket, a radio
blaring at their side. The music shielded Scully's soft
voice from unwanted ears as she continued where she had
left off.
"The X-Files was--is," she corrected herself, "Mulder's
life. His mission." Her voice caught slightly, but she
quickly recovered. "I've made it mine to a certain extent,
through what I've seen, what I've experienced. But, as
you've noticed, I don't feel equipped to step into his
shoes."
They were pretty damn big shoes, from what Doggett had
deduced. And it was the worst kind of shit hole for her
that they were left empty. "I think you've done a good
job," he said. "Probably could have done better with
someone different than me."
"Don't--"
He waved away her objection. "Kersh should've assigned you
a partner who shares Mulder's vision. It's hard for me; I
can't believe in a lot of this stuff."
*Can't* believe. Not *don't* believe. Scully pondered for a
moment his choice of words, but shelved the question for
the time being. "You may not share Mulder's vision," she
said, "but what you've done for some of our investigations
with your skills...what you've done for me--"
She fell silent, remembering the comfort he had brought her
with his mere presence and his jokes during the ultrasound
and amnio. She could feel the two of them gradually
becoming stitched together, the seams feeling stronger and
surer with every shared experience. As the silence
lengthened, Scully became aware of a heightened charge in
the air between them. She met those intense eyes for a
moment, but couldn't hold the gaze and looked away.
Doggett studied her. He would give his right arm to be able
to love this woman. And he would turn over mountains to
find her lover and return him to her whole and sound. God
almighty, he was a case.
Scully watched a flock of shore birds scurrying up and down
before the waves, and breathed in and out slowly. Turning
back to him she said, "I never got around to saying it, but
thanks for being there with me the other day."
Doggett remembered how tense the muscles of her arm had
felt under his hand. He saw once again the needle being
inserted into the white skin of her abdomen, withdrawing
fluid for the amniocentesis. He recalled how her eyes had
followed the doctor's every movement with an anxious
intensity.
"I was glad to be there," he said with warmth.
He leaned forward to reach for a seashell, and Scully's
eyes were drawn to his sun-reddened neck, and the
perspiration trickling down his temple. The circles of
dampness under his armpits. The golden hairs on his
forearms. She became aware of him again as a physical
being, and a tremor passed through her. Damn hormones!
Quickly she turned her face away.
Doggett turned the shell over and over in his hands, as
though it were a treasure. He said, "That was something
else, seein' that ultrasound."
"You've seen pictures."
"Yeah, but not the actual thing. Not a baby actually
*moving*. When my son..." He trailed off, and shook his
head. "I was working that day, on a case, too busy to get
away." He looked down and frowned, his face painted with
self-reproach.
Scully's hand moved toward his shoulder, but stopped and
dropped to sift through the sand. "Those things happen,
Doggett. Don't beat yourself up about it."
He nodded slightly, part of his mind focused on his
regrets, another part on the fact that she'd dropped the
"Agent."
Scully sighed, almost with contentment. "It is an amazing
sight," she said. "It makes the whole thing real."
He looked into her face, which had become almost luminous,
and decided that "glowing" was the right word for pregnant
women.
She went on, "I still can hardly believe it. When I found
out that I had been left barren as a result of my
abduction, only then did I begin to want to have a child.
Want it desperately."
"I can understand that," he said. He thought of her
confession to him of her IVF attempts. He wasn't well
acquainted with the process, but he knew enough about it to
know it was no picnic. Anyone trying it had to want a baby
very badly. Rubbing the shell with his fingers he said
softly, "Children are such gifts." The image of his little
boy rose up before him. But immediately it was replaced, as
it always was, by the other image, the one that haunted his
nights.
Abruptly he drew his arm back and flung the seashell into
ocean. He rubbed his hands roughly over his face and
through his hair, and fought the old rage that threatened
again.
Scully watched him, and felt an ache in her chest. Losing a
child was an unimaginable tragedy. This time her hand
didn't falter.
Doggett was startled to feel the soft pressure of her palm
between his shoulder blades. His anger evaporated under her
touch, and he turned to look at her. Her face was suffused
with compassion. Damn if she couldn't read his mind!
Something like hope surged up within him, and impulsively
he put his hand on her knee. (Her knee! What the hell was
he thinking?) He said, "I gotta believe that baby of yours
is a gift, too."
Only her eyes smiled at him. "I want to believe that."
They sat that way for what was probably only a few seconds,
but which seemed to expand into timelessness. Then, as if
on cue, their hands fell back to their sides and they
turned their faces to the ocean.
After a few minutes Doggett said, "Maybe we should be
getting back."
Scully sighed, and looked around at their beautiful
surroundings. "I suppose so. They'll be waiting for my
results."
Doggett pushed himself up from the sand, and held a hand
out for her. She took it, and he pulled her up. This is
when the boy keeps hold of the girl's hand, he thought
again, holding hers for a second longer than necessary.
Their eyes met shyly, and gently she pulled her hand away.
They retraced their footsteps more slowly this time,
soaking up these last moments of relaxation. Doggett stole
a glance at his companion. Her earlier pallor had been
replaced by a rosy complexion, and he smiled in
satisfaction.
As they detoured around two children with buckets and
shovels, he said, "Boy or girl--do you care?"
Her hair bobbed back and forth as she shook her head. "No,
not a bit."
"I thought as a doctor you'd be able to tell the sex from
the ultrasound."
"Interpreting an ultrasound takes some practice. I don't
look at them every day like an OB does. I'll find out
anyway when I get the amnio results."
"When will that be?"
Scully paused a beat. "Should be in a day or two." Her
voice was low, and her face had become clouded with worry
again.
Doggett kicked himself. Nice going, dumb ass! He hurriedly
changed the subject. "After our meeting with the locals,
what say we get some dinner? You like seafood?"
Her face brightened. "Love it!" she said.
"All right--oh, SHIT!"
Ambushed by a wave, he splashed up the beach with long-
legged strides, shaking his sodden shoes and pant legs.
Above the crashing surf and shouts of children Doggett
heard a new and unfamiliar sound, one that made him stop
and stare in amazement.
Dana Scully was giggling.
* * *
John Doggett stood at Scully's door, wondering if he'd
ever hear her laughter again.
He had hesitated before knocking while he hefted the
envelope in his hand. It was thick, heavy. Must be one
helluva long report. She had asked the lab people for
everything. It felt like that and then some. Pages and
pages of data. Data that held the answers to questions that
should never have to be asked.
His stomach curled into a knot. He had been a stupid ass to
offer her hope. All that crap about gifts. Christ! If this
report contained bad news, he would hunt down the doctors
responsible and kill every fucking one of them. With his
bare hands. Slowly.
His heartbeat sounded loud in his own ears. Taking a deep
breath, he rapped on the door, and listened to hurrying
footsteps inside the apartment.
"What is it?" Scully asked breathlessly before the door was
even fully open. "What couldn't you tell me over the
phone?"
He held out the manila envelope. "Danny called after you
left. I thought I should bring this right over. It's the
results of the amnio."
The hand that reached for the envelope was trembling
slightly. "Did he tell you anything? Have you looked at
it?"
"No and no. I figured it's for your eyes only."
She took it from him and just stood there, staring at it
with dread.
"Agent Scully."
She looked up at him.
"Whatever's in there, I want you to know--" He stopped,
speech having suddenly abandoned him.
Her eyes were soft. "I know," she said.
They regarded each other silently. Finally Doggett spoke.
"I--" he began, and stopped. He gestured at the envelope.
"You probably want to be alone with this."
Scully's eyes widened in surprise. After they'd come this
far together? She took in the tight line of his mouth, the
muscle twitching at the corner of his jaw. He's as afraid
as I am, she thought.
Doggett turned to leave, but she arrested him with a touch.
"No, please stay," she said. And wrapping her fingers
around his arm, she gently drew him inside.
End
Author's notes: I decided to give D&S an interlude of
sweetness without arguments. I promise I won't make a
habit of it. *g*
Regarding the timeline: Scully was newly pregnant when
Mulder was abducted in May. In Per Manum she's 14 weeks
along. Therefore, the events in this story, which take
place shortly after Per Manum, occur in August. That's my
story and I'm sticking to it.