TITLE: Dog Days
AUTHOR: Miss Bit
E-MAIL ADDRESS: missbit@gmx.net
DISTRIBUTION: Yes to Gossamer, Ephemeral and those 
archives which already gave one of my other stories a new 
home; everybody else please ask me first and keep all info 
attached. Thanks. :)
SPOILER WARNING: Existence (no real spoilers in here, 
but just to be on the safe side ;)
RATING: PG-13
CLASSIFICATION: V/R
KEYWORDS: DSR/AU
SUMMARY: Heat can be a powerful catalyst - as Scully 
discovers at the end of a hot day in July...
DISCLAIMER: Oh, well. John 'I'm the skeptic now' 
Doggett, Dana 'I'm the believer now' Scully and Fox 'I'm 
finally an abductee now' Mulder don't belong to me. Big 
surprise. They belong to Fox, Chris Carter, Fox, 1013 
Productions and, last but not least, Fox. There, I said it. :P
AUTHOR'S NOTE: In case you didn't notice before this 
point - this is a dipper story. It's about Doggett and Scully 
being together. As a couple. Last chance to turn back for 
everyone who doesn't feel comfortable with this idea. This 
story takes places in alternate universe. No Monica Reyes 
in this universe, Scully's not pregnant, and there's no little 
William. All said, bye-bye. ^_^
NOTE II: A big thank you goes out to Jerusha who edited 
this story even though it is dipper fic. :)

Dog Days
By Miss Bit


Raindrops are sliding down the windowpane. The 
thunderstorm is over; all that remains is the moist, 
gleaming world outside the window and a gentle, 
cleansing breeze blowing over it. High above the streets 
and rooftops the clouds are dispersing. Here and there 
stars are twinkling almost shyly in a pitch-black sky as the 
full moon is rising slowly over the horizon.

I watch my reflection in the window but I see something 
else before me. My thoughts turn to the past for a 
moment. The rain reminds me of the tears I shed long 
before a cleansing breeze blew through my life. A 
melancholy smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I used 
to be less broody than I am now; my scientific mind often 
kept me from looking too deeply into the nooks and 
crannies of my heart.

It's the sensation of silk between my fingers that brings me 
back to the present. The melancholy vanishes from my 
smile as I let the dark tie glide through my fingers. The 
tie's owner would surely laugh if he could see me like this. 
I am sitting on the armrest of my couch, wearing boxers 
and a shirt that's way too big for me, holding a tie in my 
hands that belongs to the man who has turned my life 
upside down. It amuses him that I keep some of his 
clothes in my apartment; at the same time I know that he 
feels more welcome and accepted in my life because of it. 
Yes, I can see his smiling face right in front of me as I lean 
in closer toward the windowpane.

Some might say I'm vain, but I've got a special reason for 
watching my reflection. I want to see the expression in my 
eyes, the expression that only he can evoke. The 
expression that has him so fascinated he did nothing else 
but gaze into my eyes and caress my temples with his 
fingers for several minutes this afternoon. The memory 
causes a pleasant shudder to run through me and I sigh 
softly.

Although he left several hours ago I can still feel the touch 
of his large hands on my skin. His hands fascinate me. As 
large and strong as they look, they possess the gentleness 
and the precision you'd only expect to find in an artist.

Suddenly a flash of lightning brightens the world outside 
the window. I smile to myself as the sudden brightness 
reveals that my skin is still slightly flushed and my hair is 
disheveled. A strange feeling comes over me; a lightness 
that surprises me, and I shake my head, not quite sure 
whether I'm trying to shake off this feeling or whether I 
can't believe that I feel like a teenager in love again.

Once again I return my attention to my reflection. My blue 
eyes gaze back at me evenly, but there's a spark in them 
that makes it impossible for me to remain serious for long. 
I smile, and I don't care if I look like a sixteen-year-old girl 
in love. After a gazing at myself for a while, my eyes drift 
shut, and I slide down the armrest to lie on the couch.

Unlike this afternoon I now have only my own heartbeat 
to listen to. I miss him though he only left me a few hours 
ago. Sometimes I think that my need for being close to 
him, both physically and emotionally, was born out of my 
experiences with Mulder, and namely his abduction. As 
always when I think about that dark time in my life I feel a 
pang in my heart. To lose Mulder, to bury him and to see 
him resurrected turned me into a new person. Of course 
that's true for Mulder too. His abduction also changed our 
relationship. Our days as a couple ended the day he 
returned to me.

A solitary tear runs down my cheek. I ignore it and keep 
thinking about the changes in my life. As a matter of fact 
our relationship ended when he told me to leave the X-
Files, shortly before his abduction in Oregon. That day 
something inside of me died, but it wasn't until much later 
that I realized we had made a mistake. Not him, not me - 
the both of us together.

I love him. Mulder will always have a special place in my 
heart. He is my best friend, and I am his. We were 
convinced that we would be able to carry on our 
friendship, even after we had crossed the line and become 
lovers. I'm glad we noticed our mistake before it was too 
late. I'm glad to have my best friend back. I'm glad to have 
found a new partner.

My lips curve into a smile; my tears are forgotten. I slowly 
lift my arms before my face and take a deep breath. His 
scent still lingers in his shirt, although I've worn it on my 
skin for several hours now. It is but a feeble substitute for 
his actual touch but it's all I've got for now.

I stretch myself out on the couch. Some of my joints crack 
warningly but I ignore them. Then there's another sound 
that I had better not ignore. My air-conditioner begins to 
hum more loudly and, before I even get the chance to get 
up and hit it to remind it of its duty, falls silent for good. 
Dog days. I grimace at the thought. The hottest days of the 
year, and with an uncanny certainty, the time of the year 
when my otherwise very reliable air-conditioner will 
refuse service.

Ready to accept my fate, I walk over to the window and 
open it. Fresh air streams into the room immediately. I 
take a deep breath; the smell of rain touches something 
deep inside of me. Maybe it's the faintest hint of the ocean, 
maybe just my imagination, but I believe that the air has a 
cleansing note to it.

Once again there's a sound distracting me. Frowning, I 
gaze at the door. It is late, and I wonder who might want 
to visit me at this time. There are not many people I can 
think of whom I'd like to see right now.

When I reach the door I stand on tiptoe and gaze through 
the peephole. My heart flutters in my chest and my lips 
form a happy smile, seemingly of their own volition. I am 
surprised at his return but that doesn't mean I'm not 
happy to see my partner again. For the length of a 
heartbeat I toy with the thought of changing into some 
clothes of my own before I open the door for him, but then 
I decide that I've got nothing to hide. While I'm thinking 
about what to do I keep looking at his tall figure, which is 
slightly distorted by the peephole. His hair is wet and 
spiky, his coat looks a bit disheveled and there's a boyish 
expression on his face, slightly disturbed by one of his 
typical light frowns.

I unfasten the security chain and open the door.

"Hi partner," I greet him softly. He grins about the pun. 
His pale blue eyes sparkle as he searches my gaze and 
holds it.

"Hey," he answers equally as soft. A shiver runs through 
my body. I love his voice; his New York accent as much as 
the low rumbling that seems to vibrate right through me.

"The guys at the lab sent me back home," he goes on, and I 
enjoy the intensity of his gaze.

"Come in, John," I answer and step aside to let him enter 
my apartment. After only three long strides into my living 
room he turns and eyes me from tip to toe. I begin to feel 
hot under his gaze. He grins; I knew that my outfit would 
amuse him.

"I like your style, Dana," he teases me.

"'Course you do," I answer evenly, but then I, too, grin, 
"'Cause it's your style."

My grin fades, however, as he looks at me with a gaze that 
reminds me so intensely of our meeting this afternoon that 
my breath catches in my throat. I don't know why but all 
of a sudden John looks embarrassed. He makes a step 
towards me so that now we are only an arm's length apart.

"Drove right home from the lab," he begins and the 
seriousness in his eyes warns me that I'm about to 
experience a Doggett moment. That's how I dubbed the 
moments when he manages to utterly surprise me by 
saying something touching or shocking right out of the 
blue. Lately my life has been full of these. "I wanted to 
grab a few hours sleep."

He smiles faintly and I nod. So far so good. Feeling a bit 
anxious I watch him as I wait for him to continue.

"But?" I prompt him when he remains silent.

"But I couldn't fall asleep. So I went out for a walk."

I raise my brows.

"In this weather?" I ask him, worried now. It's only now 
that I notice that his hair isn't the only part of him that's 
wet; his coat is dripping as well. I reach out my hand to 
help him take it off, but he just shrugs out of it. There's a 
soaking heap of fabric ruining the carpet in my living 
room, but I don't even waste a second to think about it. 
My eyes are glued to John's face and flicker down only 
once to his chest, taking in the fact that he's breathing a bit 
faster than usual.

"John?" His behavior worries me and I don't even try to 
mask my feelings. He saw right through me from day one; 
our relationship - both in work and in everyday life - is 
based on honesty.

"I've been walking in the rain for almost two hours," he 
says and shakes his head. Tiny droplets fly from the tips 
of his spiky hair. "Couldn't get you out of my mind, Dana. 
Couldn't get our relationship out of my mind."

His arms hang lifelessly at his sides. As tall and strong as 
he is, John looks like the epitome of the little lost boy. He 
lifts his arms slightly, his hands reaching for me - and 
suddenly I know why he is here, why he had to come and 
see me. I make two small steps towards him and step into 
his embrace, at the same time enfolding his muscular 
body in my arms. With my face pressed tightly to his chest 
I take a deep breath and feel calmed by his uniquely male 
scent. He buries his face in my hair and I can feel his 
breathing almost return to normal.

"John," I murmur against his chest. He sighs. I'm not sure 
if he feels relieved or if he is still anxious. After a 
moment's hesitation I disengage myself from his embrace 
and take half a step back so that I can have a good look at 
his face. With some surprise I see him smile at me. He lifts 
a hand to my face and begins to caress one of my temples 
just like he did this afternoon. I watch him rake his other 
hand through his short spiky hair.

"I love you," he says earnestly and I lean into his caress. 
I'm about to answer him but he places his thumb lightly 
on my lips, thus keeping me from saying anything. "You 
confuse me, Dana. 'We' confuse me."

Finally I understand. Our relationship has never been 
easy. Mulder's shadow stood between us for a long time, 
and the fact that there are now three of us working on the 
X-Files doesn't make easier for any of us. I guess it must be 
most difficult for John; I know that he sometimes still 
thinks that he has to compete with Mulder. It doesn't 
matter how many times I've told him that they are not 
competitors.

There are moments in our relationship that tell me that 
John, in spite of his self-confident attitude, still doesn't 
know how I feel about him as far as our relationship is 
concerned. That's my fault, and I know it. After my 
experiences with Mulder I became even more cautious 
about my feelings and close relationships. It's become 
difficult for me to trust in my own emotions and those of 
others. On the other hand I don't want to waste another 
six years waiting for the man I love.

I step away from him and look at the couch. John follows 
my gaze, then walks over to the couch and sits down. His 
eyes reveal his inner conflict to me. On the one hand he 
wants clarity in our relationship, but on the other he 
doesn't want to push me. I bridge the distance between us, 
and stop right in front of him, gazing down slightly into 
his eyes. This is one of the rare times that I'm at eye level 
with him without having to stand on tiptoe.

Looking into John's eyes, I think about Mulder. My 
relationship with Mulder was pretty much a big game of 
hide and seek, with both of us careful not to reveal too 
much of ourselves to the other. Often we felt unsure about 
each other because we just didn't know what the other 
was thinking. We didn't talk. Oh, of course we talked 
about safe and harmless topics, everyday things, but we 
never really talked about how we felt, or where our 
relationship was going. Where our feelings were 
concerned we solely relied upon the deep bond between 
us that makes us such good FBI partners. Unfortunately 
this bond didn't help us to establish a functional 
relationship between us. Not as lovers, anyway.

"You're thinking 'bout Mulder," John suddenly says into 
the silence of my apartment, effectively dragging my 
thoughts back to the here and now. I smile. He can see it 
in my eyes whenever I loose myself in broodings about 
Mulder. It's a good thing, too, because that way he knows 
that when we're making love I'm thinking only of one 
man: John Doggett. My smile fades when I realize why 
John came to his conclusion. He must think that Mulder is 
still standing between us, that it is because of him that I 
hesitate to deepen our relationship. I sigh soundlessly. 
Why did it have to be Mulder who called John here this 
afternoon, ordering him back to the Hoover Building?

"Yes and no," I reply, a little surprised at the serious tone 
of my voice. "I was actually thinking about why I'm 
confusing you."

He opens his mouth to give me an explanation but I shake 
my head.

"I think I know why," I continue. "And I've decided to put 
an end to your confusion."

For a second or two there's an almost panicked expression 
on his face. Does he really think that I mean to end our 
relationship - if you want to call our furtive, often hastily 
arranged but nonetheless passionate meetings a 
relationship - that I would give up what I have with him? 
He should know me better than that.

I turn away from him and walk over to my desk. There I 
open the topmost drawer and take out the key to my 
apartment that I'd had made for John a few weeks ago. 
Then I return to the couch.

"Perhaps I'd better leave," he says, a somewhat puzzled 
and slightly pained expression on his face. He starts to rise 
from the couch but I push him gently back down.

"You'd regret having missed this," I assure him. I'd gotten 
to know him really well during these past weeks and 
months, and I'm almost sure that I know what he is 
thinking right now. He must feel like an intruder, here, in 
my apartment, someone who is only welcome at 
particular times and otherwise not wanted in my life. I 
sigh sadly as I realize that I did nothing to invalidate his 
impression, when I really enjoy John's presence at all 
times. Yes, I even think it's charming that when he 
couldn't rest at home he walked aimlessly through the 
rain and came here to see me. My heart begins to beat a 
faster rhythm against my ribs as I gaze lovingly at him - 
his wet, mussed up hair; his open, clear-cut face; his 
muscular body without which my bed seems strangely 
empty.

I wordlessly take his hand and put the key to my 
apartment into it. John looks at me questioningly, but I can 
see understanding dawning in his eyes. He looks at the 
key in his hand, then around my living room and back 
into my eyes. The hand with the key in it sinks down into 
his lap. After a moment's hesitation and a last look at the 
key he puts it into the pocket of his pants.

"You don't have to do that," he says, and his voice vibrates 
right through me. I know he means it. The realization is 
overwhelming for the moment, and I need to close my 
eyes briefly. He is ready to be content with what we've got 
right now. He doesn't ask for anything. He leaves control 
to me - control over myself, control over him, control over 
us.

"I know, but I want to," I answer firmly and open my eyes. 
I think about sitting down next to him but I know what 
would happen if I did. 'We need to talk,' I remind myself 
and resist the temptation.

"John, you know" - I emphasize this last word - "that I love 
you. Not Mulder or the memory of him as my lover. You. 
Not a warm body in my bed that helps me through long, 
lonely nights. You."

He nods. Of course he knows that I love him; but 
obviously I'm not telling him that often enough if the 
intense expression of joy and relief on his face is any 
indication. John usually is a very direct and frank person; I 
learned that the hard way when I nearly got myself killed 
after running off without him and he gave me a well-
deserved lecture about my stupid behavior. The way he 
acts in our relationship in general serves to strengthen my 
suspicion that up until now I haven't been open enough 
with him. A mistake I'm about to correct.

"I think it's about time to give our relationship a new 
direction," I suggest. Is it just my imagination or am I 
blushing under John's intense gaze?

"A new direction," he repeats pensively, as if he wants to 
taste the words. "You don't like the old direction?"

My God, he is so serious. If that were Mulder in front of 
me I'd have heard a whole battery of jokes and teases by 
now. I ban the thought from my mind immediately; this 
isn't about Mulder. I raise my brows.

"Since you were present at all our meetings I take it that 
you didn't miss my... enthusiastic reactions."

He smiles, and the expression in his eyes tells me that I'm 
not the only one getting lost in memories of our 
memorable meetings for a short while.

"John," I continue before my courage leaves me, "I want 
you to become an integral part of my life. I want to fall 
asleep next to you in the evening and wake up in your 
arms in the morning; I want to have you around day and 
night and not only see you at work or when we meet to 
make love. As... nice as our meetings have been, they're no 
longer enough. What we've had so far feels too much like 
a comfortable arrangement, don't you agree? A call, a 
meeting, a few stolen hours together - but where does love 
fit in? And I'm not talking about romantic candlelight 
dinners or long walks in the park. That's part of it, too, but 
I what I really want, what I miss, are the simple things: 
going shopping together, washing the dishes together, 
falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV after a long, 
hard day at work together..."

Feeling helpless all of a sudden I trail off in mid-sentence. 
Even if I still knew what I wanted to say - how could I get 
the words out when he is looking at me like that? I feel 
like I'm going to melt in a second.

"C'mere," he growls and reaches for me. He puts his arm 
around my waist and before I even have the time to react 
I'm already lying on the couch. John's body is hovering 
over mine. His face is just out of my reach - when all I can 
think of is how much I'd like to kiss him now. My 
breathing quickens, as does my heartbeat. I can almost feel 
my heart beat against my ribs.

"No fair," I murmur but it's no real protest. Lying here 
with him like this feels way too good for me to even think 
about complaining. I just don't want him to think that he 
can sweep me off my feet at any time. Even though he can.

"I'll make it up to you," he promises, and I believe him. He 
is supporting himself with one of his hands on the couch; 
the other is toying with one of the buttons of the shirt I'm 
wearing. His shirt, really. John has my full attention now.

"I had no idea," he says. I swear I've never seen such a soft 
expression in his eyes before. "I thought you were happy 
with what we had."

He shakes his head ever so slightly before he continues.

"Thought that after all you'd been through with Mulder 
you'd need some space."

"Mulder's not an issue in this relationship," I say fervently, 
but John frowns.

"He's not?" he asks. "Well, maybe not for you, but I've 
pretty often had the feeling that I had to compete with 
him, that I was being compared to him."

"John Doggett," I manage to get out, though I'm afraid that 
my voice will fail me any second now, "no one's 
comparing you to Mulder. You two can't be compared!"

"We can't?"

His tone is telling me that he's just teasing me but I won't 
let him off the hook so easily. We're going to settle this 
now, once and for all, come hell or high water.

"No," I reply firmly, "you can't. I thought that this was 
about you and me - not you and Mulder."

He just looks at me for a long time, and I wish I could 
drown in his eyes. No, that's not quite right. I wish he'd 
finally kiss me.

"Just you and me, Dana," he whispers as he leans down 
towards me, bringing his face closer to mine. "I love you."

'Finally,' is all I can think of when our lips meet. Then my 
thoughts disperse and make way for a pleasant 
nothingness. I return the kiss of the man I love, the man 
who took my heart by storm and yet wasn't sure of it until 
a few moments ago. While our lips and tongues engage in 
an age-old, most pleasant battle John's hand is finding its 
way under my shirt; his fingers are resting lightly on my 
waist, and his thumb is caressing the sensitive skin just 
below my breasts.

I moan softly into his mouth and lift my arms, putting one 
hand on his strong, muscular back and burying the other 
in his wet hair.

The kiss seems to last forever and yet it is over much too 
soon. When we both need to breathe again, John breaks 
the kiss and retreats a few inches from me. All of a sudden 
there are a thousand things that I want to tell him, but 
when I open my mouth I'm surprised by a huge yawn that 
I fail to stifle. John grins at me.

"You're tired," he states the obvious, and I can see no 
regret in his eyes.

"Do you know what I'd like to do now?" I ask him. His 
grin broadens but he remains silent. "I'd like to go to bed 
now. And I'd like you to accompany me."

I pause for a moment and disentangle my hand from his 
hair to caress his cheek.

"Let me fall asleep in your arms tonight, John," I whisper, 
"and I promise to make you forget all about Mulder when 
we wake up tomorrow."

John becomes very serious again. He leans down to me 
again, but this time he kisses me on the brow.

"Sounds like a damn good idea to me, Agent Scully," he 
whispers against my brow. "But who's that Mulder guy 
you keep talking about?"

I laugh softly as he gets up and helps me to rise from the 
couch. He takes my hand in his and together we go into 
my bedroom. My heart is still beating much too fast but 
that's only because I can't wait to begin my new life with 
John Doggett by my side. I move closer to him, enjoying 
the warmth radiating from him and thanking fate that he's 
not the kind of man who would have used this 
opportunity to carry me into my bedroom. No, he's the 
kind of man who shows his love in a quiet, yet much more 
intense way.

While I'm lying in John's arms, with my back to his chest, 
I'm listening to the sound of the rain that's started to fall 
again. The thunderstorm might be over but my dog days 
have only just begun.

The end