One of the Good Guys

Title: One of the Good Guys
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: Doggett/Scully
Warning: Post Dead/Alive AU
Rating: NSFW
Summary: “Move in with me. Marry me. Live with me. And I’ll . . . do what it takes.”
Notes: A prequel to Draw Down the Moon

It was late, closer to morning than night, when the final reports were signed. William had cried himself into exhaustion and Scully looked ready to cry herself. She leaned her head against the seat back and said to Doggett as he started the car, “Just home.”

“No problem,” he said.

It was a long drive from the police station, and felt longer. They said little to each other, the silence filled with Scully’s reassuring murmurs to the baby. Doggett found himself looking over at them whenever he took his eyes off the road, watching the way Scully’s hair fell over her face and how William reached up to touch her.

His heart ached for them, as it so often did. She never wanted help, she never asked for favors, but it was wearing her out—all this worry, the helplessness, the waiting for the next disaster to strike.

He wanted to do something. He had to do something.

Doggett stopped the car in front of Scully’s building and followed her up the stairs, carrying William’s car seat while Scully clung to the baby. He said quietly, “Do you want me to stay tonight?”

Scully paused a a few stairs above him, then said, “Yes, please.”

When they stopped in front of her apartment door and she took her keys from her pocket, her hand was shaking and the baby was whimpering, on his way to full-blown wails. “Damn it,” she muttered as again the key missed the lock.

“Here.” He took the key ring and unlocked the door, and pushed it open so she could enter. He followed her into the apartment and set the car seat in its usual place by the front door. She took the baby straight into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind her. Doggett hesitated, unsure if she’d want the company, then shrugged
and followed her.

William lay on the changing table, sucking a pacifier, and looked around with wet, sleepy eyes while Scully changed his diaper and put him into clean pajamas. Her hands moved slowly, and there was a look of unbearable sadness around her eyes. She wasn’t talking and singing to William the way she usually did, and she hardly seemed
to notice Doggett until he said, “Maybe I should stay a while. More than just tonight. I don’t want you to be alone if one of them decides to come back.”

Scully paused a moment, then said, “They’ll come back,” in a deadened voice. “If not them, someone else. It will never end.”

 “Scully, don’t talk that way,” Doggett said, alarmed. He wrapped his hand around her elbow and looked seriously into her eyes. “I will always bring him home to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She lifted William from the changing table and laid him in the crib. She stayed beside him, gently stroking the baby’s cheek with her fingertip. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not your problem, John.”

“It’s your problem,” he said. “That makes it mine.”

She raised her eyes to him. “I know you want to make everything right, but you can’t.”

“I can’t stand watching you suffer like this. I need to do something.”

William made a peevish noise in the crib. “We’re keeping him awake,” Scully murmured and led Doggett out of the bedroom, turning out the light behind them. “I’ll put your bed together,” she said when she’d closed the door.

“I can do it—”

She gave him a look that made him shut his mouth, and he just watched as Scully took blankets and a spare pillow from her linen closet. He helped her spread out a bottom sheet over the cushions and tuck in the blankets. She was wavering on her feet, so finally he said, “Just go to bed, Dana. I’ll lock up.”

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep much tonight.”

“Try,” he said. He touched her cheek, which seemed more hollow than it had been when they’d met. There were darks smudges beneath her eyes, a weariness to her shoulders.

She smiled a little bit. “Good night, John.” She went into the bathroom and shut the door.

Doggett removed his boots, socks, and t-shirt, neatly folding it on her coffee table. He turned off the few lights she had turned on, and checked the locks on the front door and all the windows. He looked in on William, who was asleep, delicate eyelashes casting shadows on his round cheeks and his mouth sucking on an imaginary nipple. He stroked the baby’s peachfuzz hair and put back on a tiny sock William had already managed to kick off. “Be safe, Willie boy,” he whispered.

When he turned to leave Scully was standing in the doorway, wearing pajamas and a robe and her arms folded tightly around herself. “Good night,” Doggett whispered, meaning to move past her, but she didn’t turn to let him out the door. “Um, Dana?” He felt oddly exposed in front of her like this. Other than one hospital stay, he couldn’t think of a time he’d worn so few clothes around her—on cases he’d been careful to always wear pajamas in the
motels, and though sometimes at home he slept nude it had never been on one of the times she’d come over. When he had stayed with her a few times before William’s birth—they had all been so worried about her going into labor alone—he’d taken the same caution, though by then he wondered why he bothered. She’d hardly seemed to notice his body at all.

She was noticing it now, if the direction of her eyes was any indication.

“I’d like to go to sleep,” he said finally.

Guiltily she raised her eyes from their perusal of his chest and she blushed, enough to make him smile. “Sorry. I—I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”

“Yeah. ‘Never forget.'”

Scully raised her hand and lightly, with the back of her fingers, caressed the bulging mucle in his arm. “Do you love my son?” she asked.

That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “You know I do.”

“Do you ever wish he was yours?”

No, that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “There are a lot of things I wish were different for you.”

“Like giving my child a normal life?”

“That would be a start.”

She was still touching him, so light he had to concentrate to feel it. “I think from the moment I walked into the X-Files office I was doomed to never have a normal life again. And I want one. So much.” She took a deep breath and said briskly, removing her hand, “Sorry. I haven’t slept. Good night, John.” She moved aside at last for him to pass.

“Good night, Dana,” he said, though he really wanted this conversation to go on—wanted to know more about what made a normal life and what she’d do if she had one. “Sleep loose.”

She smiled at the expression and shut the door. Shut him out yet again.

Doggett lay down on the couch with his arm behind his head, and stared at the ceiling until sleep claimed him.

 There was hair tickling his nose when he awoke, and a warm, round body on top of his. Without opening his eyes he smiled and laid his arm lightly over her back. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken to find himself blanketed by Scully—he wasn’t sure if she was sleepwalking or only seeking comfort. It didn’t matter—he loved waking up to find her here.

She stirred and sighed, then sighed again and lifted her head to blink at him blearily. “Morning,” she stated—it was not a greeting, he’d learned that long ago.

“Yes, it is,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made her scowl. He touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a moment before pushing herself off his body and got to her feet. “Why do you do that?” he said as she started to walk away.

“Do what?” she said shortly, glancing at him over her shoulder on her way to the kitchen.

“Come out here. Why do you do that?”

She took a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and poured herself a glass before answering. “I don’t know.”

“Sometimes I think if I figure that out I will have found the key to unlock all your mysteries.”

Scully looked at him with a raised eyebrow and said, “You are strange before coffee.”

“It’s not on purpose,” he said in surprise. No one had ever called him strange before. “I should go in and w
rite up the last few days. We used Bureau resources, I’ll have to justify them somehow.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I’ll come back,” Doggett said as he  pulled on his t-shirt. “And first thing I do will be to assign agents for surveillance on you.”

“Surveillance,” she repeated.

“Standard procedure when an agent’s been threatened.” He put on his boots and started tying the laces. “I’ll take the night shift. You’re used to me.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Scully murmured. She smiled a little bit, sipping her milk. “John, I—thank you.”

“Anytime, Dana.” He picked up his car keys. “Maybe you should go to your mother’s for the day. I’ll be back around six, okay? And I’ll call you when there are agents assigned.”

“No, I’ll be fine here. I’ll miss you,” she added quietly, which made him pause and turn back to her. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her lightly.

“You’re unsinkable,” he said, and Scully smiled.

“Goodbye, John.”

“Bye,” Doggett said, then let himself out of the apartment.

He felt good on the way down to the car—he felt purposeful, authoritative. He’d take care of them. He’d look out for them. He’d make the world safe.

The euphoria ended the moment he hit the freeway. Scully never said “Goodbye.” She said, “See you.” She said, “Be careful.” She said, “Call me.” She never said goodbye.

Paranoia, he thought sternly. It was a rough night for all of us.

She said she’d miss him.

“Dammit,” Doggett said—he swung into the far lane to take the closet exit, ignoring the honking behind him, and drove back to Georgetown as fast he could on a busy Tuesday morning. Be there, he thought, be there, Dana, just be there.

When he pulled up in down the block from her building again he breathed a sigh of relief—her car was still in its usual place. See? he thought. Just paranoia.

Then he saw her leave the building, carrying the baby and a large suitcase. He watched her put both in the car, watched her get in, watched her pull away from the curb. When she’d passed him, headed towards the freeway, he slipped into traffic to follow her. Maybe she’d changed her mind about her mother’s, or maybe she’d decided
Quantico was a safer place for the both of them.

But wherever she was going, he would follow.

They drove most of the morning. Scully knew how to doubleback and evade anyone who might be following—anyone but Doggett, who knew how to tail and had determination and concern on his side.

He had a sinking feeling of inevitability when Scully finally stopped her car. Alexandria. Mulder’s old building, his old apartment that she still kept—maybe she just wanted to stay there a few days, to regain her equilibrium? He knew she often retreated there.

But his gut—and the big suitcase— told him this was only a first step.

Doggett parked the car and, after several minutes of inner debate, got out, and leaned against the car a moment, staring at the window he knew was Mulder’s. He took a deep breath and crossed the street, let himself into the building and got onto the elevator.

His heart was pounding as he got off the elevator and walked down the hall to Number 42. Be gentle, he thought, don’t push her.

He knocked on the door.

At first there was no sound from within—then footsteps, a pause, and clicks as the door unlocked. It opened a fraction. “What do you want?” Scully said tersely.

“I want to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She started to shut the door but Doggett wrapped his hand around the door so she couldn’t close it without breaking his fingers. “Can I come in?”

Scully made a frustrated sound and let go of the doorknob, walking away. “I’m just taking some time to recover.”

 “I figured that,” he said. He closed the door behind him and followed her into the apartment. “But I also figure you’re not going to do all your recovering here.”

She knelt by William’s carrier and started to unbuckle the straps. She muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re leaving,” he accused.

She turned her pale face up to him, clutching the baby. “I am not leaving!”

“You are running away.”

“I am doing no such thing! I just need some time.” She scowled at him and turned away, patting William’s back.

“You’re leaving! You’d just pick up everything and leave!”

 “What else would you have me do?” she snapped at him, then cooed reassuringly to William when he whimpered. “He can’t live this way. I only want for him to have a normal life. I wanted him to play baseball and blow things up in science class and have a best friend and camp out in the back yard—I wanted things to be simple.”

The baby was still whimpering and Scully’s sharp, angry pats weren’t helping. “Give me him,” Doggett said, and Scully handed over the baby, still frowning. He held William with one arm and began to sway, rubbing the baby’s fuzzy head. “Okay. Let’s make things simple. You need someone you can trust to watch him.”

“I can’t trust anyone. I can’t endanger my mother and I can’t put an innocent in harm’s way.”

“Then you—”

“I can’t watch him twenty-fours hours a day. I can’t bring him to work with me. I have to earn a living.”

“What if—” He watched as Scully sat on the sofa and wrapped her arms around her legs. “What if someone else took care of that?”

 She chuckled, staring at the dusty print on the opposite wall. “I haven’t dated in years. I can’t see how I’d be more desirable now. A single mom with a small child—who wants that?”

There was a low coffee table in front of the sofa, and Doggett sat on it to look into her eyes. “People want that,” he said, touching her hand. He stroked the fine, pale skin on the back of her hand and her fingers suddenly clutched at his.

 “Who?” she whispered. “Who would understand? Who would love him enough? He needs a dad. He needs someone who’d love him more than life—who’d love me—no.” She wiped her face with her palm. “I can’t look to someone else to take care of us. I have to look after him. He’s my responsibility. He’s my child. He’s mine.”

“Of course he is.” He continued rubbing her hand with his thumb. “But we all love him. No one wants to see him hurt. No one wants for you to lose him. No one wants to lose you.”

“It does feel like the answer, though. That we should just  . . . go.”

His hand stopped moving for a moment. “Would you really leave it all behind?”

She nodded. Her fingers tightened on his.

Doggett whispered, “I’d follow.” Scully looked at him finally, reaching over to stroke William’s warm head, her face expectant and uncertain as she waited for him to continue.

Doggett cleared his throat. “That’s probably not what you want to hear.” He said it anyway: “But I still would. I’d follow—and I’d make sure no one else did.”

“I know you would,” Scully said, and almost smiled. Then hastily as if she’d just noticed she was holding his hand, she let it go and got up from the sofa. “But I have to think about William’s safety. He might be safe if we just disappear.” She stood at the window, her arms around her waist, said, “Or I let him disappear.”

 “What do you mean?”

She turned and said, as if she could hardly believe she was having the thought, “What if I gave him up? A private adoption with sealed records. What if I did that? Do you think he’d be safe?”  Say no, her eyes pleaded. Tell me I’m wrong.

“No,” Doggett said quietly. “And you’d be miserable.”

Scully nodded slowly, sighing and rubbing her arms.

“So. Leaving, or finding someone to help you protect him.”

“I should leave. There’s no one to help—except you.” She smiled uncomfortably. “And I wouldn’t hold you to that, John. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe not,” Doggett murmured. “Maybe so.” He got up from the coffee table and came to her. Her eyes grew wider the clo
ser he got. “Except I’d never be able to live with myself if I didn’t know where you were every night. I’d look for you, Dana.” Her hands were trembling and he took one and kissed her palm. “I’d look for you and I’d find you, and I’d protect you from anything else that might come.”

Her eyes were enormous and dark, and her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breaths. “I know you would.”

He kissed her. He couldn’t help it—he was going to lose her forever, he could feel it, and if she left he’d live with the
regret that he’d never taken this chance. He tried not to be rough or demanding or anything that would cause her to push him away—just gentle, just careful, just trying to lavish all the tenderness on her that he would never have the chance to give.

When she finally pushed him away her lips were full and wet, and she kept her fists wrapped in his t-shirt. Her eyes searched his face, her breasts still heaving. “I swear,” she whispered, “if you are messing with me, I swear I will fucking kill you.”

“I’m not messing with you,” he said, smiling because he loved this fierce side to her. He stroked her hair with his free hand and let his hand rest against her neck, holding the ends of her hair. “I don’t want you to go. But if you gotta, don’t leave me behind.”

“Never,” she said and pulled his mouth down to hers to kiss him again.

William squawked between them, and Scully and Doggett broke apart, both suddenly shy and uncertain. She took the baby and kissed him, stealing glances at Doggett even as she soothed her son. “Well,” she said quietly.

“Yeah.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I have to feed him.” She sounded a bit stunned. “And the it’s time for his morning nap. We can—talk—then. When he’s sleeping.”

 “Yeah,” Doggett said again, though he had to wonder if “talk” really meant “more kissing.” He hoped it did.

 Mulder’s cupboards were dusty, but less bare than Doggett had expected. Scully was staying here more often than he’d thought: there were cans of formula and bottles of water, baby food jars, dried pasta and canned soup, vitamins, diapers—all neatly stacked in two cardboard boxes to be carried out quickly if the need arose.

Doggett poured himself a glass of water and sipped it as he walked out of the kitchen. He could hear Scully singing to the baby now, her voice so soft he couldn’t hear the words. The sound comforted him, and he wished he could go into the bedroom and lie down beside them with his head in her lap and just listen for a while.

Instead, he paced around the small living room, taking in the dusty desk and the empty fish tank and the eclectic assortment of books. His mind was racing as quickly as his heartbeat, a thousand thoughts at once—if she left, if she stayed, how could he convince her to stay, if they left where would they go, would he be able to sell his house, how would he support them?

There was no doubt in his mind that he would take care of them. Somehow. Wherever she led him.

The bedroom door closed and Scully came to stand beside him. She didn’t touch him, but when he put his arm around her waist she leaned her head against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

“Better than I was. But, John, I still don’t know what to do. How do I keep him safe? They want him and I don’t even know why.” Her voice was trembling and Doggett pulled her closer to him, put both his arms around her and kissed her head again. “They think he’s the Messiah or the Antichrist or the One—he’s just a boy. He’s
just my boy. How do we end this?”

He held her face in his hands and said seriously, “Do you think leaving is the best thing?”

“I don’t know.”

 “Whatever you decide,” he said in the same low tone, “I want to be with you.”


 “I love you.”

She closed her eyes and turned her face away. “No, you don’t. You don’t love me. You love an idea. I’m not who you think I am.”

“I think you’re Dana,” he said. Her eyes opened to study his face. Her lips turned down. “I think you’re beautiful, and you’re smart, and you’re kind, and you’re lonely, and I know things are more interesting when you’re around. More magical. More—just more.”

He loved her expressive eyes, even when they were full of doubt as they were now—because there was hope in them too, hope and a spark of belief. “I love you,” he whispered again, and stooped to kiss her.

Her mouth opened beneath his. She gasped quietly, rising up on her toes, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He rarely thought about how tiny she was but he was feeling it now, bent over like this. How fortunate that there was a couch right behind them: he lifted her up and lay her on it, kneeling over her, barely stopping in kissing her long enough to breathe.

This was much better. Not just her mouth but her pretty neck as well, her ears, her shining hair. She kissed him too, raking her hands again and again through his hair. Again and again she whispered his name.

Scully was wearing a simple blue cotton blouse, and as Doggett ran his hands over her shoulders he thought she would like to have it off. He pulled away and she followed his mouth until she felt his hand at her buttons.

She looked down at his hand, then slowly up into his eyes. She put her hand on his wrist. Doggett waited for a yes or a no or a sign. She started to smile, tremulously, then it grew wider and she let go of his wrist.

Quickly he unbuttoned her blouse, not looking away from her eyes. He slid the blouse off her shoulders and down her arms. She inhaled and closed her eyes, hands kneading his chest and shoulders. He had to pause and look at her—he had to take in the wonder of her lush figure, her velvety skin, her small round breasts. She was as pretty as a blossom, and he wished suddenly he had the words to tell her so.

Instead he kissed her, kissed her and kissed her, while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her nipples hardened against his palms, and she arched her back to thrust her breasts further into his hands. She  molded her hands to the muscles of his back. Her tongue was agile and hot in his mouth.

Running his hand over her strong back and arms, Doggett unhooked her bra and slid it off her chest. He dipped his head to kiss the soft upper curves of her breasts. Her touch was gentler now, cupping the back of his head and smoothing through his hair.

It was her voice as much as her kisses that made all the blood in his body rush to his groin. He rested his forehead against her neck a moment, dizzy with lust. Her scent made him groan—not just her skin but the warm, heady fragrance of arousal. Her heart raced beneath his ear.

She raised his head and kissed him again. One hand left his face and he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered. She squirmed her hips and he slid his hands down her body to help her take off her pants. “Shoes,” she muttered,  so he reached down to pull her shoes from her feet.

When her pants and hose hit the floor with a soft rustle Doggett raised his mouth from hers. She was naked—beautifully, splendidly—her lips wet and her eyes dark with promise. She watched him, unsmiling, as he fumbled with his fly and worked himself out of his clothes. Her eyes held his as he lifted her hips and thrust into her.

He held himself over her so he could watch her face as he thrust, stooping sometimes to nuzzle and kiss her breasts, straightening sometimes to kiss her mouth. Her legs tightened around his hips as she arched to meet him. Her nails scraped over his back and her sweet breath bathed his face as she panted and gasped. The couch
cushions squeaked beneath them.

He cupped the back of her head in his hand. “Marry me.” Her eyes opened wide. “I want you to marry me.”

“Yes,” she gasped, pulling on his shoulders so he would be close enough to kiss. “Yes.”

“I mean it.” He let her suck on his
tongue a few moments. “Marry me.”

“Yes,” she gasped again, but she couldn’t say more. Her face was open and slack with pleasure, and her inner muscles and her hands and her thighs were tight and rippling—her body took him in and accepted all he had to give.

Eventually Doggett regained his breath and lifted his head from her dewy neck, and tenderly kissed her lips. Scully’s eyes had closed, and she lifted a lazy hand to rake through his hair. “You’re heavy,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” he muttered and pulled out of her so he could take his weight off her body. Despite the August heat goosepimples were forming on her skin, and Doggett hastily pulled off his t-shirt and helped her sit up so he could tug it onto her. She leaned back against the cushions and pulled up her legs, wrapping her arms around her knees. He started to button his jeans up again and said, “Are you okay?”

 “Yes. Not ready to move yet.” The shirt was far too large for her, and she was so innocently sexy that Doggett felt his heart begin to thump with anticipation again.

“I just want to be sure you don’t need anything more,” he said and licked his lips, hoping that she did. He could taste her already.

“I need sleep, mostly,” she said, and then yawned as if to prove it. He chuckled and picked her up to carry her to bed. She made a small sound of protest but looped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, letting him go only when he laid her gently on the mattress.

They were quiet to keep from waking the baby, Scully curling around William, while Doggett took off his shoes and socks. He spooned behind her and rested his forehead against her neck. She rubbed his arm and slipped her fingers between his, and in a few moments was breathing deeply, asleep.

Doggett didn’t think he would sleep at all, but soon his breathing was in unison with hers.

Doggett opened his eyes and blinked a few times, not recognizing the ceiling above him. The bedroom was golden with afternoon sunshine. He turned onto his side to see Scully, nude again, sitting beside him, her eyes closed as William nursed. Doggett touched her hand. “Hey.”

 She opened her eyes and quietly smiled at him. “Hi.”

 “How is he doing?”

“He’s hungry and I don’t think he had any bad dreams. I think he’s okay.”

“Good. I’m glad. And how are you?” he asked in a more serious tone.

“I’m . . .” She played with William’s toes for a moment, then Doggett reached over and wound his first finger around her littlest one. She squeezed his finger. “Do you really think you could do it?”

“Hm? Do what?”

“Leave,” she said patiently. “Go on the run with me. It’s not just leaving town: it’s giving up your friends, your family, your job, your entire past. Can you do that, John?”

He would have preferred to play with William and watch how the afternoon sunshine brought out the gold in Scully’s skin—but her expression was serious and he knew their decision had to be made. He said, “I would if I had to—if we had to. Can you?”

“Are you done already, Willie?” William had let go of her breast and she held him against her shoulder and began to rub his back. “This is the third time I’ve tried to leave. Something always holds me back. I’d miss my family too much, my friends . . . I’d miss you.”

 “You’d miss me?” He traced her smallest finger with his fingertips.

“I got as far as Philidelphia last time. I kept thinking as I was driving, ‘What will John think of this?’ I had to come back. I knew you’d try to find us. I had to come home.”

 “Because you were scared of me finding you?”

“No, of course not.” She looked at him over William’s head. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Doggett sat up so their faces were level. “I would worry.” He started to lean in to kiss her and she towards him, but William chose that moment to belch, loud and wetly.

Scully laughed dryly and murmured, “Thanks, baby boy,” as she got off the bed to get a rag from William’s diaper bag. “Perfect timing.”

“Oh, he’s okay.”

“I’m not complaining . . . just, they’re not kidding when they say having a baby changes everything.” She sat on the bed again, cleaned up William’s face and tickled his chin to make him smile. “And I bet your tummy feels lots better now, doesn’t it, sweet William?” She held him to her shoulder again and resumed rubbing his back.

“Dana,” Doggett said, “I’m not sure leaving is the answer. I know it feels that way right now, and obviously has before, but I’m afraid they’d find you and you’d be far away from anyone to help you. That’s not an improvement.”

“I know.” She pulled the sheet over her knees and laid William on her thighs so she could play with his feet.

“What if you stayed?”

She looked up at him. “What if I did?” William kicked his heels and she absently kissed the bottom of his foot. “Things would have to change. We can’t live like this. I should move, at least. Maybe hire a bodyguard—”

“Move in with me.”

“Move in with you,” she repeated.

“Move in with me. Marry me. Live with me. And I’ll . . . do what it takes.”

Scully laughed dryly again. “What do you think it takes, John?”

“Time, patience and love,” he said seriously.

She looked at him, biting her lip. “You’re not kidding, are you.”

“I am completely serious. I love you. I love William. I want to be where you are.”

Scully rubbed the soles of William’s feet together and smiled a little when the baby laughed. She whispered, “Are you sure you’re up to this?”


“And you really want to marry me? It’s not just something you say in the throes of passion?” She tried to smile.  

“I *have* only been married once. Did you mean it when you said yes?”

“I did. I do. I do love you, John.” Her eyes were brimming as she said, “I could do this. I could stay.”

Doggett started to smile. “Okay, then. Stay.”

She smiled too, uncertainly, then leaned over and kissed him. She rested her cheek against his neck. “I want to be where you are,” she whispered.

He put his arms around them both and leaned back against the bare wall, listening to William’s sleepy mutters and Scully’s even breathing. He closed his eyes.

e n d

Note: I know it’s not quite how they said it happened in DDTM, but it’s close enough.

Leave a Reply