Title: Without Him Author: spookycc Rating: PG-13 Classification: S/D, Scully angst, Doggett POV Summary: Fill-in-the-blank for "Without" Spoilers: Indeed. For "Without" Disclaimer: No characters, human or canine, are mine. And no dogs were harmed in the making of this fanfic. :) Feedback welcomed at spookycc@earthlink.net Dedication: As ever, to Doggett's Bitch (f/k/a "Vixen" :). My soulmate. Here's to the pic from "Without" on TOS that started this whole wonderful ride. No beta-reader was used. All typos are my own. Author's notes at end. Doggett is chanelling through me in reverse order of the airing of S8 episodes, so it's getting a bit interesting trying to bring him back to where it all began.... **** When we returned to the hospital, after Agent Scully practically comandeered my chopper, I realized that she was right, after all. I uselessly chastize my men (if they *are* "my men") for losing Skinner and the boy. Agent Scully disappears down the hallway, flipping doors open, as we enter the vacant room. Windows are locked, no exit through the bathroom. My eyes are drawn upward. Standing on a chair, I flip up one of the ceiling tiles. And find A.D. Skinner - or someone that *looks* like A.D. Skinner - with his eyes swollen shut. The boy is not up here. What the hell is going on? I race into the hall, followed by the rest of the task force that was deployed here, and we begin a room-to-room as well. Barely audible, I hear the tinkling of shattering glass. It sounds like a wind-chime - light, melodic, almost - but I sense the sound does not belong here, as we head in its direction. Then an even more sinister sound - a single gunshot, fairly close-range. "Agent Scully!" My call goes unanswered, and I speed up our systematic search. Weapons drawn, we make our way door to door. I've not led a sheltered life, by any stretch of the imagination, and I've seen too many horrendous things to even remember them all except in nightmares. But I am totally unprepared for what greets me when I find the room Agent Scully is in. My ASAC throws open the door, and I enter first, gun drawn. And stop, dumbfounded, at the scene before me. The boy, Gibson Praise, stands near the door, as if he had been attempting to leave. In front of him a huge - puddle - of some kind of green chemical. And beyond that, the prone form of Agent Scully, clearly hurt. "An agent needs help!" I yell to the men behind me. I give the rest of the room a cursory glance only. Agent Scully's attacker is not here. Holstering my weapon, I step over the puddle on the floor, to where she lies. I ease her up from the floor, propping her back up against my leg. Her assailant inflicted major damage before he made his escape. Before she covers her face with a hand, I see a deep scratch beside her left eye, and another on the right side of her chin. Oblivious to the stares of the other agents, I cradle her gently in my arms as she sobs. Almost whimpers. The quiet cries out of this strong woman reach within me, to a place I haven't been in a long, long time. I know she covers her face not only to hide her injuries, but also to hide her pain, her tears, her fears from me. She has not yet accepted me into her search for her partner, and I haven't done much to earn a place there. I am suddenly aware of the lack of activity behind me. "I said an agent needs help!!" I shouldn't *need* to repeat a directive like that, but my task force is milling about in the doorway like conscientious objectors waiting for a flight to Canada. Scully's gentle cries pull me back toward her, and I take her a bit more tightly in my arms, to shield her from whatever foe she faced here tonight. This woman, so competent, so confident, who I found out walking in the middle of the desert tonight. What was she doing out there all alone? What did she expect to find? *Who* did she expect to find, just wandering in the middle of nowhere? I know the answer, of course. What makes a self-assured, independent agent like I know Scully to be toss caution to the wind and head out alone into the night-time desert? I know what she sought to find there. I'm looking for the same thing. The same man. I'm sure she'd be far more comfortable with Agent Mulder holding her right now, but I'm afraid I'll have to do. All that she has gone through to find Mulder - right up to and including this attack. I begin to get a feeling for the relationship these two partners share. I kneel beside her on the floor, until her cries subside, and I watch as the veil is drawn up again over her feelings, before I hear a bustle of activity in the hall that damned well *better* be a doctor. **** --Days later-- That asshole Kersh. He set me up to fail, whether I found Mulder or not. The least I could have done, for Agent Scully, for myself, was to "do the damned job", as the Deputy Director likes to say. Instead, I sat in front of his desk like a schoolboy in the principal's office. At least I let him know how I felt, though I'm sure my career will take a downturn because of it. I stand outside her hospital room until the last remnants of anger fade. I'll be no good to either of us if I give in to Kersh. Opening the door quietly, I see that Agent Scully is asleep. Not surprising, I guess, after what she's been through. Whatever - or whomever - the cause. Sitting in the bedside chair, I slide a get-well card into her pale, still hand, and it awakens her. I sigh, hesitant to break the silence, the stillness that pervades the room. "My dad always said, 'It's not who wins or loses, it's who takes the worst beatin' that counts.'" Agent Scully arches an eyebrow - I have this feeling I'll be seeing that a lot - and asks if that was supposed to cheer her up. "I thought so," I stammer rather uselessly. I don't find myself at a loss for words very often, although I'm not Oxford-educated, but she seems to have that affect on me. "But then, I never did get to see your opponent." Agent Scully sighs, a heartfelt sigh, it seems to me. "And you never will. You still don't believe me." OK, let's not venture into the paranormal stuff again. I'll change the subject. "What I don't believe is how long they're keepin' you here." A worried, pensive look crosses Agent Scully's face, and she turns her head slightly away, mumbling something about a few things that need checked out. There's something here I'm not privy to, and I think maybe I should be, if we're to communicate openly. But it's my fault she's distrusted me from the beginning, and now's the time to start to change that. I lift the file folder from my lap, and begin briefing her. About Skinner, about the agent that was - attacked - at the school. About Gibson Praise. Agent Scully gives me a stealthy look, still untrusting. "What are you doing here, Agent Doggett?" "Keeping you apprised of the case." "That's not your job." Her eyes are veiled, troubled. "It is, actually. And officially." I stand, uncomfortable. "I'm assigned now to the X-Files." I watch her face as disbelief, (disappointment?), registers there. I don't need to see any more to know that it will take time for me to penetrate her protective shield, to pierce the armor that I have seen only the tiniest chink in, in that other hospital room. Not wanting to view her apparent displeasure anymore, I head for the door, voicing one last thought, so she'll know whose side I'm on. "Whatever you and I may differ on, I'll find him, Agent Scully." I give that as a promise. One I intend to keep, if she'll open herself to me, and let me help her in this search. If she'll allow me to be even a fraction of what Mulder is to her, we can find him. ~~ fini ~~ ***** Author's Notes: I really think that Doggett yelled "A.D. or Scully" after he heard the shot, but it was hard to tell exactly what he was saying, so I went with what fit better in my story. :)