Title: Witness (1/2) Author: Agent Myers Rating: R Summary: I lie awake now, listening to the sounds of the house. The hum of the air conditioner, the drip of the nearby leaky faucet, the ticking of the clock...and I think. Keywords: DRR, Doggett/Reyes, MSR reference, Doggett POV Spoilers: Season 8, (slight TINH) Archive: Gossamer, Okay. Anything else just let me know, I'll probably say yes! Disclaimer: You know. Authors Notes: This one didn't come easy. So I hope it doesn't suck. BIG MAJOR NOTE! I probably missed some of the background story on Doggett...I don't know if his wife died, or left him or what. Hell I guess I don't even know if he had a wife. So I'm going with my own story. Ditto for Doggett/Reyes. Don't know if there's any romantic history between them or not. But hey, this is MY fanfic! I was having major writer's block! This story is just basically Doggett's POV, and his random thoughts in the middle of the night. So if the story seems to jump around, that's good, 'cause that's what I was going for! Feedback: Of course!!!! Bring it on!!! Nadjjaa@hotmail.com. **** And when we're done soul searching as we carried the weight and died for the cause is misery made beautiful right before our eyes will mercy be revealed or blind us where we stand? Will we burn in heaven like we do down here will the change come while we're waiting everyone is waiting... "Witness" -Sarah McLachlan *** Witness by Agent Myers I lie awake now, listening to the sounds of the house. The hum of the air conditioner, the drip of the nearby leaky faucet, the ticking of the clock. And I think. It's been six months since I've been assigned a new partner on the X-Files. And it's strange to think that she's sleeping next to me tonight. I look over at Monica. Her dark hair is spread across the white pillow. I can barely see her face in the glow of the street lamp flooding through the window. Her eyes move rapidly underneath her eyelids, and I wonder what she could be dreaming about. I touch her hair softly, carefully, so that I don't wake her. And I wonder if this is how Mulder feels when he looks at Scully now. I think about how it must have been for them, working together for eight years, the tension between them growing day by day. I knew Scully loved him the moment I met her. The way she talked about him, the way she would never give up the search. The way she cried when we found him...dead. In the law enforcement business, you lose partners sometimes. It's hard, but you move on. But Scully had not lost a partner. The way she cried, she'd lost a best friend and a lover. And I'll never forget the look on her face when we found out he was alive. Something so hard to believe; yet she embraced it with no fear whatsoever. And right there in that hallway, I knew that what they had together was what we all want. I knew that kind of love was something that very few people ever catch a glimpse of in their entire lives. I felt like a witness to something divine, something magical. It made me want it too. I've never been one for tension. If there's a problem, I like to solve it...whatever way I can. For Mulder and Scully, two people who would obviously die for one another, to work together and not give in to that which they both needed so much seemed unreasonable to me. But then again, I'm not them. So when that same tension began to mount between Monica and I, I didn't waste time. It's not the same with us though. We were lovers once already. After my wife died, before my son died. That space of about eighteen months, Monica and I were lovers. It was a great year. But when Luke was abducted and killed, things fell apart. I was emotionally unstable, and I made the mistake that men of my heritage always make. I kept it in. I became a hard shell and anyone who touched me simply shattered. I pushed Monica away for fear of hurting her. I couldn't love her then. I couldn't love anything. All I did was feel pain, but I never shed a tear. Never. Things fall apart. She left. I told her she should go. It was the final phase of my self-destruction. But, like all things, time has a way of healing you. I found what release I needed in my work, in my utter aloneness, I found peace. For everything, there is a season, they say. That was my healing time. Of course, I'll never get over my son's death. It's a void in my soul that can never be filled. I realized that I have to stop trying to fill it; maybe then I can be at peace with it. I don't think Monica ever hated me for the breakup. She understood me; she knew me. I appreciate her so much because of that. It seems too much like fate that she's back in my life. Not only in this way, but working together. It's uncanny. We began to have those moments. You know, when you catch each other's eye, where you accidentally touch one another, where you catch yourself making a comment about your past? Must be something about that office. I'm not a mind-reader, but I knew that she wanted me to kiss her. So I did. Right there in the office. I remembered how much I liked kissing her. And I think she liked kissing me too. We used to do it all the time, among other things. As I sit here in the dark, watching her breathe, I think about the past. It was a really good year. I laughed silently, thinking of the time that we met for lunch and made love in the bathroom of the Kennedy Center. We came out, our faces red our clothes wrinkled, walking a little funny. We made inside jokes about it for months. I realize that my laughing has caused the bed to shake. I stop. And my mind rewinds just a few hours. After I'd kissed her in the office, something between us re-activated. I asked her to come over. She nonchalantly replied that she would, around seven, eight...perhaps nine. She was at my door at 6:15. I don't think we said a word to each other until after it was all over. She burst through door and started ripping into me. Words got lost in the violent removal of clothing, the fervent kisses, and the roaming of hands. "I missed you." She said to me, when it was over. I smiled. I had missed her too. I was afraid she'd leave then, but she stayed. We had an intimate dinner of macaroni and cheese and leftover egg drop soup, watched a couple of movies, and then... At it again. It was just like old times. Monica stirs beside me. She takes a deep breath, and pushes it out with content sigh. She doesn't wake up. I gaze at her. Her face is relaxed, her body is curled up tightly against a pillow. And I realize that I could get used to this. I could come home to this. It's silly, that I should sit here and dream about having a wife, and kids and the perfect little life after one night with this woman. But you can never know what will happen. I don't know what her intentions are, if she could perhaps forgive me, and take me back and feel the same about me as she once did. You just never know. Maybe, in the morning, I will know. I feel her move next to me. I watch her stir, her body willing itself to come around. She opens her eyes lazily, and focuses on me. "John...what are you doing up?" She asks, finishing it off with a giant yawn. I shrug. "Just thinking." She pauses, studying me. "Are you okay?" She asks, a little bit more awake now. "Yeah." I say, smiling. "I'm good." She closes her eyes and smiles, and her arms seek me out. I lay down underneath the sheets with her, allowing her to snuggle into my arms. I kiss her forehead. My arm finds its rightful place on the curve of her waist, and I relax. And we sleep. ~F *** Whadya think? Nadjjaa@hotmail.com. Witness 2/2 will be from Reyes' point of view, and how she perceives their new relationship. Coming soon, to a message board near you!