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. 1