The Long Goodbye
Author: Kimberly <starbuck20032000@yahoo.com>
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Duh.
Spoilers: Mild Season 8 and
9
Category: Doggett POV, D/R
friendship
Archive: XFMU, A2D Fanfic Archive,
Please archive wherever else. Just drop me a note and attach my name
to the file.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes you just
need to release the pain.
_________________________________________________________________________
Is this what they mean when
they say the heart never forgets?
Is it supposed to be this hard?
To be the survivor, when you know it is your child who should have buried
you, not the other way around?
My son was beautiful. Grandma
said he looked just like me. Is that why more than my heart died that
August day?
My son. Just to look at his
picture sends pain through my body. He called me "Daddy Cop".
I asked him where he got that name from. He said those were my jobs.
To be a daddy and a cop. Then why did I fail him?
I want to be alone but there
is a knock on the door. "Come in," I reply.
"John, your alone?"
"Yes, and that*s the way
I wanted it, Monica." I don*t mean to sound so rude but the look
in her eyes tells me I*ve offended her. "What can I do for you?"
Monica lays down her coat,
"John, I*m coming to work. What*s up?" Her hands are on
her hips. She is worried, I know that look.
"I*m sittin* here working.
Paperwork still needs to be filed on that last case, so that*s what*s
up."
She moves to look across my
shoulder at the computer*s blank screen, "Nice. You should be
finished any time now. Anything you need to talk about?"
I close my eyes and sigh.
If I don*t answer, she*ll bring it up again. It*s something I do not
want to discuss with her. She doesn*t need to know what I*m feeling.
Feelings of fatherhood, of being a childless father. It*s because of
Scully*s baby. William. I wanted to be there when it happened. I
had been there when Luke was born. But I had been the father that time.
"Okay, so if you don*t
want to talk, how about I do the talking? Skinner stopped me on the
way down, he said that Kersh is asking this office be audited. Can
you believe that? They want to audit us."
"I*m gonna leave now,"
I say as I stand up and shut off my computer. Out the door, down the
hall, into the elevator. It stops to let me out at the parking garage.
I think I*ve made a safe exit once I get to the car. Not the case.
The elevator dings and shoes softly click against the concrete.
"John, I*m coming with
you." Monica gets into the passenger*s seat of my car. My car,
not hers. I didn*t invite her to take a drive with me.
So, I sigh for the second time.
"Monica..."
"Don*t argue with me.
As your partner, I*m required to be your back up and that*s what I intend
to be. Besides, you look like a man who might end up needing a designated
driver," She was quiet for a moment, "You*ve been like this
for several months. Wanna tell me what*s wrong?"
"No, as a matter of fact,
I don*t." I start the engine, put the car in reverse - then drive.
The sun is bright when the car finally exits the depressing Bureau garage.
Instinctively, with both drop the sun visors and quint at the penetrating
rays. I notice Monica reaching for something in that small purse she
carries. "Oh, no. No smoking in my car. I can breathe here and
that*s the way I like it."
She flips open her cell phone,
"I*m checking messages not indulging my nicotine addiction."
I hear the beeps from the phone*s buttons as she punches them. 1, 2,
3. "Where are we going?" Her voice is soft, like she doesn*t
want to disturb me.
"You*ll see when we get
there," I say, mimicking the softness. In fact, I*m driving to
a place that has been calling me since Scully*s baby was born.
The sun is shining with brilliance
against the clear blue sky. I look up and notice there are no clouds.
Not one. The sky is perfect. Like life once was.
We pass through Arlington and
I ignore the turn off to Falls Church. Instead, I head north to Fairfax
County. Monica*s been quiet longer than I ever remember. I turn and
see she is looking out the window. Her face shows concern, but I know
she is not talking for my benefit.
I take the next exit and we
are just a mile from our destination. She is sitting up now. The last
time she was out here with me was four years ago. "John..."
Now, she is looking at me.
"What, Monica?"
"Don*t do this to yourself."
Genuine concern shows on her face and I almost turn around. Almost.
I am not stopping and she knows
that. The last mile seems to go incredibly fast. We are at Dranesville
Road, I can see it to my left and make the turn. It is that moment
when I see this is the same route we took before. The beautiful wrought
iron gate is open for the car to pass through. I hesitate outside of
it. There is still plenty of room to turn around.
"Don*t. Unless you*re
ready." She stares straight forward as she speaks. I continue
forward, through the gate welcoming us to Chestnut Grove Cemetery.
Marble headstones and family mausoleums surround us. I can tell the
grass has been freshly mown.
It is not far now. Just another
turn. I park to the side. "Monica..." I began but am interrupted.
"I*ll stay here,"
She gives me a weak smile, which I return. I want to say *thank you*,
but it does not come. So, I exit the car and begin walking.
The oak tree is still standing
tall. Shading the plots underneath it. I first come across my grandfather*s
headstone. He was a wonderful man; served in World War Two but did
not want to be buried in Arlington National. That would be a waste
of money, he claimed. His family had already purchased plots here in
Chestnut. "Hi, grandpa," I am surprised that I spoke aloud.
There he is. It is still so
hard to look at, to read the headstone. *Luke John Doggett - Beloved
Son*. I don*t get past that before the dates become a blur. My throat
is constricted as I reach out and trace my fingers over the letters.
There are two plots beside him - one for me, one for his mother.
"I didn*t mean to fail
you," My voice is breaking. Maybe this was not such a good idea.
I begin again, "Everyday, I think about you. I see you, your eyes.
They matched mine, you know. Every time I write, I think about you
complaining that being left-handed made you different from the other
kids. But you got that from me, Luke. I would have done anything for
you." Tears begin sliding down my cheeks as I sit on the hard
ground. My hands mechanically begin to wipe away dirt and grass thrown
onto his headstone. "I*m trying my hardest to make you proud.
I..." The words don*t come.
The footsteps behind me do
not register. I only know she is behind me when she puts her hand on
my shoulder. "He knows, John. Luke knows that you love him and
would have done anything for him."
"You don*t know that,"
I burst out.
"Yes, I do. He wouldn*t
have called you "Daddy Cop" if he didn*t believe in you."
She*s smiling as I look up.
"How did you know that?"
She bends down closer to me,
"You told me." This is how she found me last time. Doubled-over
here.
I trace the letters on my son*s
headstone one more time. "I love you," Once again, I choke
out the words. My mind is filled with images of my son as I last saw
him. He looked like such a young man in that cold, unfeeling coffin.
He looked so much like he was sleeping. No one can know how long I
begged for God to wake him up.
It*s time for me to go. I
cannot stay out here forever. There are other children to protect.
I may not have saved mine, but I can save them. "I*ll be back,
Luke," I whisper.
The car seems so far as I follow
Monica back to it. She had promised to remain in the car but I now
acknowledge that I may never have returned had she not brought me back
to reality. Is reality that good to begin with?
For several minutes, we sit
in silence. Both of us looking out the window, seeing the rows of marble
that mark the sadness of so many lives.
."You want to get something
to eat?" I say as I continue to stare out the window.
"Okay," She replies.
I start the car and we soon exit the cemetery. I leave my son again.
This is what they mean when they say the heart never forgets.