Title: Interregnum IV: Obstructions (1/1)

Author: Horatio

E-mail: Horatio1013@aol.com <mailto:Horatio1013@aol.com> 

Summary: "What does it take for you to trust me?" 

Rating: PG-13 (language) 

Category: Scully/Doggett vignette, angst, post-ep, 
Doggett-friendly 

Spoilers: General season 8 up through Per Manum. Missing 
scenes for PM, minor spoilers for Medusa, Via Negativa, and 
Roadrunners, and nods if you look closely, to One Son and 
Never Again.

Archive: Fine with me! Just let me know.

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 contains some S/D UST, 
with emphasis on the U. Archive sites for the rest of the
series can be found at the end of the story.





INTERREGNUM IV:
OBSTRUCTIONS



Scully stared tensely out the window at the passing 
countryside. The drive home from Walden-Freedman Army 
Hospital was longer than she wanted to spend with her 
partner right now. She knew what he was feeling, could 
taste his anger, and her guilt sat like a stone in the 
middle of her chest. She despaired of ever being 
able to make things right between them again.

Doggett, too, was sunk in silence. He had briefly 
entertained the notion of tackling the complicated issues 
that now hung between them, but after the anxious and 
exhausting 24 hours he'd just put in, words felt like too 
damn much work.

Scully finally spoke up. "Thank you for coming all the way 
back out there to pick me up." 

He cast a glance over at her. "I never left."


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  


He'd stormed into Walden-Freedman Hospital crazy with worry 
and adrenaline, and found himself in the midst of 
confusion. In the frantic bustle of medical and military 
personnel, only one thing caught his attention: red 
hair and a pale face on a gurney being wheeled past him.

"Is she all right?" he shouted as he trotted to keep up 
with the doctors. "Is she gonna be all right? What 
happened?" As Scully disappeared behind swinging doors, 
Doggett spotted his friend Knowle and spun angrily on
him. "What the hell happened to her?" 

"Take it easy, John." Knowle put a steadying hand on 
Doggett's shoulder. "She and the other woman should be 
fine. She just got a little hysterical, is all, and we
had to sedate her."

"Hysterical? Agent Scully *hysterical*? I'll show you 
hysterical if you don't tell me what the fuck happened!"

"Hey, it's going to be all right. Just take it easy." 

Doggett took a deep breath. "I'm easy. Now explain."

He listened grimly to Knowle's account of his partner's 
agitation, the unscheduled birth of Ms. Hendershot's baby, 
and how the man had saved the women's lives. 

"By the way," Knowle concluded, "that partner of yours is a 
feisty little thing, John."

Doggett just stared at him. "You son of a bitch." His hand 
instinctively curled into a fist, and he forced himself to 
turn away. He had to find Scully.


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


Doggett's hands curled around the steering wheel with an 
ever-tightening grip as the silence began to press on him. 
He decided to make conversation. 

"I looked in on Ms. Hendershot while you were resting. She 
seemed happy. She was holding her baby for the first time."

Without taking her gaze from the window Scully replied, 
"That's not her baby."


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


"Agent Scully is lucky," the doctor told Doggett as he 
stood over his sleeping partner. "Her baby is fine." 

Slowly, slowly he turned to stare at the woman, gaping in 
mute shock as pieces jiggled and tumbled into place. His 
various theories about his partner's secret exploded one by 
one, leaving the one he'd never considered.

Because it was impossible.

God almighty. A baby. 

The doctor left them alone, and Doggett sank into a chair, 
asking himself how a barren woman becomes pregnant. But his 
expertise on infertility was zero. Luke had been an 
accident. 

He rubbed his face roughly. Christ! How many times had that 
baby's life been endangered? The memory of his knife 
slicing into Scully's back made him suddenly nauseous. Fear 
for her, for her baby, pressed on him like a blanket of 
lead.


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


Scully fought an upwelling of nausea as the car wound its 
way toward the capitol. The bouts were getting much less 
frequent, but they still sneaked up on her at unpredictable 
moments. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her partner 
cast a sidelong glance in her direction, and wondered if he 
was going to break the silence again.

"Agent Scully," Doggett said softly, "I understand why you 
didn't feel you could tell me before. But I wish. . ." His 
fingers drummed on the steering wheel, and he swallowed 
nervously. "I wish you could've. When you were in the 
hospital during the Tipet case--"

"How did you know I was in the hospital?" she broke in, 
turning to him in surprise. Had he been investigating her 
behind her back, prying into confidential records?

"It was the same hospital Tipet was admitted to," he 
explained. "Your name was on the admission sheet." 

Her eyes dropped. "Oh," she breathed, her irritation 
suddenly punctured.

He went on, "And in Boston, I figured there was something 
more than Karras that kept you topside."

Scully felt again the heavy guilt that had oppressed her 
during that case. It had been awful, not being down there 
with him.

"I thought maybe," Doggett was saying, "maybe your cancer 
had come back." He glanced toward her again. "I was 
worried."

She was silent for a long moment, looking at him. "Oh -- 
oh," was all she could manage at first. Then, "Agent 
Doggett, I'm sorry. If I'd known you thought that. . ." 

"It's okay. I'm just glad you're not sick."

She turned her head away and closed her stinging eyes. 


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


Scully's eyelids fluttered in her sedated sleep, and 
Doggett thought she looked peaceful for once. He remembered 
embracing her, and buried his hot face in his hands as his 
senses were flooded with the recollection of that moment, 
of those few intense seconds when she'd let him past her 
barriers and responded to his touch. When -- Christ! -- 
he'd kissed this woman who was carrying another man's 
child. 

They should have talked about it, but events had trampled 
his intentions. First it was a contagion in the Boston 
subways. Then Duffy Haskell had walked into their office, 
and everything -- embraces, kisses, talk -- had been swept 
away in his wake. 

Doggett let out a harsh sigh. They probably would never 
deal with it now.

While the monitors beeped steadily, that memory faded and 
others rose up in its place. His anger returned as he 
replayed the galling experiences of the past 24 hours. To 
have to learn from a stranger that the woman he worked with 
every day was pregnant. To be told by the Assistant 
Director that she was taking an unscheduled leave. To be 
rebuked for knowing what was in her very own case files. To 
be shut out, to be strung along with secrets and lies.

To not be trusted by the one person who should trust him.

Doggett leaned his elbows on his knees and bowed his head 
wearily.


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


Scully sat with her head lowered, her hand poised on the 
door handle. They had pulled up in front of her apartment, 
she had thanked him, then stopped in the act of getting 
out. On her face a battle was being waged, and her breast 
rose and fell as she gathered up courage to speak. The car 
interior felt suddenly small and cramped to Doggett, and 
his palms began to perspire in the warm intimacy of the 
space.

Finally she turned her gaze in his direction, focusing on a 
spot somewhere on his tie. "I. . .I just want to say. . .
how sorry I am, Agent Doggett." 

He blinked. "Agent Scully--"

"I know you're angry with me," she hurried on, "and I don't 
blame you. You have every right to be."



*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


He'd kept his anger in check while they talked about Ms. 
Hendershot and baby-switching, but finally he had to ask 
her. He had to know: Why hadn't she told him? 

He had imagined her possible answers during his long vigil 
at her bedside. 

*Because I don't trust you, Agent Doggett.* 

*Because my private life is my private life, Agent 
Doggett.*

*Because it's none of your damn business, Agent Doggett.*

What he hadn't expected was, "I was afraid." Nor had he 
expected the way his heart tightened, or the revived 
affection that suddenly washed over him. 

He supposed it should have pained him that her fear and 
anguish were all for Mulder, but for some reason it didn't. 
He only wished she'd trusted him with her fears earlier.


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *


He turned in his seat and said quietly, "I *was* angry with 
you." 

Scully lifted her eyes to his, and her expression was 
troubled with self-reproach. Doggett went on. "But you had 
your reasons for doin' what you did. Now that I know. . ." 
He paused. "I understand. Maybe we can just put it behind 
us."

Scully searched his face. It was serious but not without 
warmth, and she already knew it was honest. Maybe they 
*could* put things right between them again. "I 
appreciate that, Agent Doggett." She held his eyes for 
another moment, then pushed open the door and slid out of 
the car. 

"Take it easy the rest of the day, Agent Scully."

"I will. Thanks."

He watched her mount the steps and disappear into her 
building, then sat for several minutes in thought. At last 
he turned on the ignition and drove away. 


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


Two days later


Doggett tipped back in his chair and clasped his hands 
behind his head. Across the room his partner was packing up 
her briefcase. "You got the right idea, Agent Scully. I 
think I'll call it a day, too."

"Oh, by the way," said Scully casually, "I won't be coming 
in tomorrow." 

Doggett looked up in surprise. "What about that meeting 
with forensics in the morning?"

She paused in her packing, and looked into space, 
remembering. "Oh. Right." Then she resumed stuffing files 
into her briefcase. "I'm sure you can handle it, Agent 
Doggett. I'm really sorry I that I can't make it, but I 
have an appointment tomorrow."

He frowned. "All day?"

She didn't answer, and kept her back carefully turned to 
him. So I can't see her face, he thought. Alarm bells 
started ringing in his head, and he rose from his chair. 
"You're not seeing those doctors again!"

She turned around. "No! No, not them."

"Not them. Then some others?"

"Agent Doggett, I really don't think it's necessary--"

His concern mounted. "After what you just went through, how 
can you be sure of *any* doctors?"

"I've got it handled. Really."

"You thought you had things handled a few days ago, and 
look where you ended up: unconscious and with your baby 
endangered."

His reminder failed to deflect her. "That was different. It 
involved other complications. This is just a personal leave 
day I'm taking." She stuffed one last file in her briefcase 
and snapped it closed.

Doggett's nostrils flared angrily. God almighty, she was 
pulling it again! He'd thought they'd reached an 
understanding after the fiasco at Walden-Freedman. Think 
again, G-Man, he told himself bitterly. 

"Like the personal leave you decided to tell me about at 
three o'clock in the morning a few days ago?" he said.

She cocked her head impatiently. "Agent Doggett, I 
appreciate your concern, but--"

"Excuse me, Agent Scully, but at this point, any time I 
don't know where you are, it's a matter of concern to me."

"*But*," she repeated severely, "I'd also appreciate it if 
you would respect my privacy." 

"Oh, I got nothin' but respect for your privacy, but 
unfortunately some other people don't. Your private life 
seems to be of considerable interest to other parties, 
parties who may not have your best interests in mind like I 
do, parties who pose a threat to you."

"Oh, really?" Her eyes flashed at him. "I thought you 
believed those people at the hospital who said I 
'overreacted to everything'."

He ignored the sarcasm in her tone. "I don't understand 
everything that went down at Walden-Freedman, and I don't 
pretend to know why you're of such interest to certain 
people. But I do know there was something fishy goin' on 
there, and it wasn't a safe place for you to be. Why do you 
think I stayed there the whole damn night and day?"

"I--" Scully closed her mouth on her retort. She *hadn't* 
thought about it, absorbed as she had been with her own 
worries. Despite her surprise, she continued to defend her 
fragile barriers. "Look, Agent Doggett, this isn't about 
you. It's *my* life."

"Which matters to me too!" he burst out. "And which almost 
got terminated a few days ago!" 

His eyes bore into hers, and she was taken aback once again 
by his unflinching determination to meet her head-on. 

The blood rose to Doggett's temples, and he was tempted to 
grab her shoulders and shake them. "And now you're doing it 
again!" he shouted. "Keeping secrets. Shuttin' me out. 
Again!"

His outburst made her take a step back, and her heart 
pounded. But her eyes met his with the same intensity. "Get 
a grip, Agent Doggett. This doesn't involve you."

He moved forward, leaning into her space. "I got news for 
you, Agent Scully," he said in a low voice. "I *am* 
involved in this, whatever it is. Have been for a while. 
For lots of reasons."

Her voice took on a warning tone. "I think some of those 
reasons are best forgotten. You're making this personal, 
Agent Doggett." 

As soon as the words escaped her lips, Scully realized the 
irony of the accusation. It had been flung at her once, and 
the memory of the hurt it had inflicted thrummed painfully 
in her consciousness.

Doggett was suddenly still, breathing heavily. After an 
interval of silence he said quietly, "I think it already 
got personal last week."

Scully's cheeks colored.

"For which I apologize," he added.

Their eyes met for a moment, then Scully tore her gaze away 
in embarrassment. "No, no," she murmured. "You didn't act 
in a vacuum. I -- my emotions are unpredictable these days. 
I'm not always sure why I'm feeling what I'm feeling. Or if 
I'm feeling things for the right reasons." She still didn't 
know if the warmth she felt for this man was just a way to 
salve the gaping wound in her heart, or if it was hormones 
run amok. Or something else.

Doggett watched the blush suffuse her face. "That's 
understandable," he said, "considering. . .considering 
everything." Considering a baby is now part of the 
equation, he thought. He was suddenly acutely aware of her 
nearness -- they stood mere inches apart -- and to close 
his senses to her he turned back to his desk. He stood for 
a moment staring sightlessly at the scattered papers and 
files. Maybe she was right, maybe he was taking it too 
personally. But that didn't change one fact. 

"Personal issues aside," he said, "I still should be 
watching your back. I should've been watchin' it the other 
night when you went off to the hospital." He blew out a 
breath in exasperation and turned to face her. "What does 
it take for you to trust me?" 

It hung there, his question, and seemed to make the very 
air between them denser and heavier, as though the 
molecules had suddenly multiplied. Scully leaned 
against her desk as if for support. How could she answer 
his question? How could she summarize seven years of 
horrors and betrayals? How could she explain how 
impossible it was to let another person past her 
battlements? How could she explain why she so jealously 
guarded her boundaries, when she didn't thoroughly 
understand it herself?

"It's a difficult thing for me," she said softly. "I wanted 
to trust you, to tell you about my pregnancy. . ." She 
trailed off, and absently picked up Mulder's mug. 

"I know," he said gently. "You were afraid."

She looked at the silly alien face on the mug and her 
loneliness for Mulder stabbed her like a lance. "I'm still 
afraid."

He crossed the space between their desks in two strides. 
"Agent Scully, I said I'd help you. I won't let anyone stop 
you from lookin' for Mulder."

"Not just that. Those women were tampered with. Their 
pregnancies, their bodies were tampered with."

"And you're afraid those doctors may have tampered with 
your pregnancy." It was a statement, not a question.

She looked up, and her hands stilled from turning the mug 
over and over. "I'm afraid that those doctors, the ones who 
murdered the woman whom Haskell called his wife, may 
have--" She paused, afraid to say it. This would be letting 
him in where she'd never let anyone but Mulder. Not even 
her mother knew. But some small voice told her that it was 
time. That it was necessary.

She swallowed, and finished. "I'm afraid they may have 
*created* it."

Doggett stared at her dumbly. He was lost now. "I. . .I . . 
.you mean. . ." He flailed helplessly. "I don't understand. 
I thought you and Mulder--" He clamped his mouth shut in 
embarrassment at the awkward turn the conversation had 
taken.

Scully looked away, while her cheeks once again turned a 
dusky rose. She and Mulder, yes. And she had been blindly 
believing that a miracle had indeed happened. But now she 
was afraid she'd only been kidding herself. "I was barren. 
I was trying in vitro fertilization."

Doggett's mind galloped to process the ramifications of 
this, to reframe his picture of this woman who seemed all 
dark recesses and mysteries.

"Dr. Parenti said it didn't take," Scully was saying, "but 
maybe he was wrong and it did. Or maybe he was lying." She 
shook her head in frustration. "I don't know. I don't know 
anything anymore. I can't trust him, and without knowing 
what happened, what he did. . ." 

Her eyes when she looked up at him again were swimming, and 
her voice was unsteady. "I don't know what I'm carrying."

*What* she's carrying. And he knew she didn't mean boy or 
girl. Even if he didn't believe the alien nonsense, her 
fear was palpably real. If she was the victim of medical 
experimentation. . . He clenched and unclenched his hands 
furiously.

"They did an amnio when I was at Walden-Freedman, but I 
can't trust the results." She fought for control. "I need 
to find out."

He sat down next to her on the edge of the desk. "And 
that's what you're doing tomorrow?" he asked softly.

She nodded. 

"But how do you know it's safer than Walden-Freedman?"

"The guys worked up a fake identity for me."

He looked at her sharply, and resentment bubbled up again. 
She told those characters and not him? 

Scully caught his look and read his thoughts. "I didn't 
tell them why," she reassured him. "Then I picked an 
obstetrician at random outside the D.C. area." She 
hesitated, then went on, "I thought of telling you, but. . 
.I suspected you might react like this. And, well, it's 
complicated." She put the mug back down on the desk. "I'm 
having an exam, and getting an ultrasound and an amnio. 
It's--" 

"Extremely personal," he finished. "I understand."

They sat in silence. Doggett pondered the problem. He hated 
this trampling of his partner's privacy and dignity. He 
hated that he was the one doing it. A pregnant woman and 
her doctor, what could be more private? But. . .

The seconds ticked by, and finally he spoke. "I wish to 
hell I didn't have to intrude on your privacy, Agent 
Scully. But what I said before, about your personal life 
being of interest to other people?" He paused. "These 
precautions you've taken tell me you recognize that fact."

She was silent, but her head nodded perceptibly.

His voice became gentle. "You're always tryin' to do it all 
alone. And in a way, I gotta admire that." He looked down 
at his hands splayed on his thighs. "I know you feel like 
you're all alone. I'm a pretty sorry substitute for what 
you're missin'."

She huffed softly. "You're far from a sorry substitute," 
she murmured.

He looked at her profile for a long moment. Their shoulders 
and hips almost touched, and he could feel her warmth. He 
cleared his throat. "But you need to know, you're not 
alone."

She looked into those intense eyes and read the truth of 
what he said. But it was hard, so hard.

He waited, and when she had no further response he rose. 
"Well, I respect your decision. Just. . .be careful." 

She watched him as he returned to his desk, her heart 
beating heavily. Suddenly she pushed herself up and crossed 
the room toward him. "Agent Doggett."

He halted and turned around. 

Her face was carefully controlled, but her eyes were 
soft. "I guess I *could* use someone to watch my back." 

Doggett blinked slowly.

"Shall I pick you up?" she said. "Say around nine?"

He stared for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, that'd be 
good." And he let out a breath he didn't even know he was 
holding.


XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Epilogue


Doggett watched the fish swim lazily in the tank in 
preference to thumbing through the baby magazines. He 
especially liked the yellow-and-black striped one. What a 
beauty.

He glanced around the waiting room at the women in 
varying stages of pregnancy, and the occasional 
accompanying male, but no one looked suspicious to 
Doggett's practiced eye. He had spent a good part of the 
night cross-checking Scully's background checks on the 
obstetrician and his staff, and triple-checking all his 
professional connections. Doggett had made sure no one had 
followed them here. Her lab samples would be sent straight 
to trusted friends at Quantico. Everything was under 
control. She was safe. 

Doggett leaned his head back against the wall and relaxed.

"John?"

He sprang to his feet. A nurse was standing in front of 
him. 

"Yeah?" Anxiety pricked his nerves. Was something wrong?

"Ms. Scranton  has asked if you would be with her during 
the procedure."

Doggett stood for several seconds, stunned into 
inarticulateness. "She asked *what*?" 

"Don't worry," said the nurse, misinterpreting his 
hesitation. "It's a very simple procedure. It's very common 
for fathers to be present." 

He felt his face grow warm at the misunderstanding, but 
followed silently down the hall while he tried to make 
sense of what was happening. By the time he reached the 
examining room he had figured it out. Scully must be 
worried about something in order to call him in there. 
Something must feel off to her, and she needed him to check 
things out. 

His pulse was racing by the time he reached the door. 
Inside the room Scully was stretched out on an examining 
table, covered discreetly in medical gowns and sheets.

"Your friend is here," the nurse told Scully. "John, you 
can take a seat next to Dana."

He found a stool and pulled it close to his partner. "Hi," 
he said shyly.

"Hi," she returned just as shyly, looking at him upside 
down. 

"You doin' okay?"

She nodded, but her eyes told another story. They were wide 
and glazed with apprehension. Doggett madly began to 
construct strategies for multiple possibilities.

The nurse adjusted the ultrasound equipment and said, "I'll 
see if the doctor is ready." 

When the door closed behind her, Doggett drew up closer to 
Scully. "Is something not right here?" he whispered 
tensely. "Do you suspect the doctor? Should I get you out 
of here?" 

Her wide eyes, almost in his face, looked at him for 
several seconds. She breathed in and out rapidly, and he 
could feel her warm exhalations on his face. Tell me what's 
wrong, his eyes implored her. 

She shook her head. "No, it's not that." 

Relief flooded his veins. "Good," he said, and waited for 
her to explain.

Scully turned her head away from him, then back. She passed 
her tongue over her lips, and clasped her hands tightly 
together under her breasts. "I just. . .they said I could 
have someone here with me for the ultrasound and amnio." 
She turned her anxiety-filled eyes on him. "I should have 
checked with you first. If you'd rather not--" 

Doggett was brought up short as he processed the latent  
meaning of her words. But he recovered his wits quickly,
and moved to quell her doubts. "No," he said firmly. "I'm 
honored that you asked me." His voice was even huskier 
than usual, and he had to swallow around an obstruction in 
his throat. That she would trust him enough to want him 
with her in her fear. . . 

He felt the ground drop away as if they were traversing 
a chasm, and he groped for a handhold. Finding Scully's 
arm, he gave it a gentle squeeze, and the glassy disquiet 
in her eyes began to melt away. "Besides," he added, 
"those fish out there were makin' me dizzy."

Her smile had wings, and carried them safely to the other 
side.



End



Feedback is gratefully accepted at Horatio1013@aol.com 
<mailto:Horatio1013@aol.com>.








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