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Standing Still

By agent myers

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My headlights are the only light for miles, and my car the only sound. There’s nothing out here, on this silent highway, but a bunch of farmhouses and barren fields. I come out here when I need to think.

With one hand, I fish my cigarettes out of my glove box and stick one between my lips. I don’t even take my eyes off the road as I find a lighter hidden away in the ashtray that I’ve never used. I haven’t smoked in a week, and it’s killing me.

As I breathe smoke into my lungs and slowly exhale, my mind returns to the reason I’m out here.

My partner, of course.

I’ve held it in, ignored my emotions…tried to keep my mind busy with the tasks at hand. That being, of course, protecting Scully and her baby, and exposing the conspiracies within the FBI. That’s one hell of a “to do” list.

I sigh and wonder if I could ever find the will to just walk away. Go get a nice, normal job. Work, come home and make dinner, go out with friends…

…have a boyfriend…

I shrug my shoulders and take a long drag off of my cigarette. The glowing ember illuminates the car for a moment. I flick the ashes through the window.

Of course I could never quit. It’s not the case; it’s not even Scully. It’s him. My partner. John Doggett.

I don’t know if I could call it love. Something like obsession, closer to infatuation. But I know it would only take one look…one word from him…and it would be love.

I’ve never been the type to sit around and lament about my lack of a significant other. I’ve never believed that I needed a man to complete my life, and I’m not going to start. But I can’t deny how I feel any longer, and it’s pissing me off.

I make a right turn onto a dirt road. I don’t have any idea where I’m going.

John Doggett occupies my every fleeting thought. It’s sad, really. Pathetic. Especially because I know that he doesn’t return the feeling – obviously. I’m not even his type, to start with. I can tell that, every time he gives me a strange look when I pitch him one of my wild theories. Though I can’t count the number of times I’ve been right, he still thinks I’m a flake. But as they say, opposites do attract…sometimes. But not this time. He’s in love with Dana Scully, and I’m quite sure of that.

Don’t think I haven’t noticed that his concern for her goes above and beyond the call of duty. The way his eyes change when he looks at her is so different from the way he looks at me. And I’ll never forget how he held her hand as we fled that ship, just before it blew. I thought he was going to throw her over his shoulder, for God’s sake.

Don’t get me wrong…I have absolutely nothing against Dana. I feel no animosity towards her…I just wish that I was her sometimes.

I light another cigarette.

My cell phone rings suddenly, startling me. I pick it up.

“Reyes.”

“Hey, it’s Doggett.”

I’m silent for a moment, stunned that he’s calling. Must have something to do with work. “What’s wrong, John?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just thought….you’re smoking, aren’t you?”

I smile, almost laugh. “Yeah.”

I can hear him shaking his head. “Well, I need your signature on this report…thought you might want to have a drink or something. Take our minds off the case.”

I am stunned.

“And you can bring ME one of those cigarettes. I haven’t had one in years.” He says.

I stutter. “Um…yeah….sure. Where and when?” I hope I don’t sound to eager.

“How about now? At, uh…Jeremiah’s on Vine. You know that place?”

“Yeah.”

“I should be there in about…fifteen minutes. I’ll see you there, Monica.”

We hang up, and I slam on the brakes in the middle of a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere. I am at least twenty miles from the city. I whip the car around, and it a giant cloud of dust and a spray of rocks, I’m going nearly eighty miles an hour in the direction of those city lights.

I smile like a goof and toss my cigarette out of the window.

XXX

“I just needed to get out. Thought this report was as good an excuse as any.” He says, sliding the file folder towards me.

I look at him and nod, knowing how he feels. I don’t know why, but I’m nervous. I sign my name at the end of the report, not bothering to read it. I know what it says.

My drink arrives, and I sip it slowly. I don’t plan on getting drunk. Then he’d really think I was a flake.

We start talking about the case, and I begin to relax. I finally notice his clothes. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, those black army-type boots that I’ve seen him in once or twice. I note that he looks really, really good.

Before I know it, I’ve finished my drink. We talk more about the case, though we’d come here to get our minds off of it. Oh well.

“There’s more than we can see, I think.” He says.

“You are beginning to sound like Mulder, you know.”

He takes a drink, and his eyes sparkle slightly. “I know it.”

“I’m supposed to be the irrational one, remember?”

He laughs, and motions to the bartender, who pops the top off of another beer and hands it to John.

“It’s really great that you’re going to such lengths to…care for her.” I say, and I almost immediately regret it.

“What do you mean? The case?”

I take out my cigarettes to avoid his eyes. He reaches out and takes one from the pack, and sticks it in his mouth.

“I mean…you seem to have a personal stake in the…case. You’re not just protecting her, you…seem to…you just seem to care for her a lot.”

He stares at me…he’s catching my drift. I decide to probe further.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was…something deeper there.”

He lights his cigarette, still starting at me.

“There isn’t.”

I inhale smoke from my cigarette. “John…you can trust me.”

“You’re suggesting that I’m…in love with Agent Scully?”

I try not to let the sadness show in my eyes. “It certainly appears that way.” I finally take another swig from my newly poured drink. John’s quiet for a moment. I decide that it must be true…he must be in love with her.

“It’s not like that.”

I listen. He looks uncomfortable.

“I can’t let anything happen to that baby. For some reason, I feel like it’s my job to keep them safe. I have to.”

I hear the pain in his voice. “If anyone can understand that, it’s me.”

“I know. I know you do.” His eyes are filled with sadness as he remembers his son. My mind drifts back, too, to that day when we found him, and the days that followed. I remember how much I just wanted to hold him…how much I wanted to comfort him. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of the other officers. Only me. That was when I knew I loved him.

I lay a hand on his, and he grasps it firmly. “So, you see now.”

I nod. We stare at each other, emotions passing through us as though through a pane of glass. Again, I just wanted to hold him. He’s still squeezing my hand when he says…

“Let’s get out of here.”

I stand up, willing to go wherever he wants to take me. We walk out of the bar together. He’s released my hand, but once we are away from the door, underneath the dim light of the street, I feel him reach out and take my hand again. I stop and look at him, unsure of what is going to happen next.

He pulls me toward him, and against the brick wall of the building. He kisses me.

My mind reels and my heart races. I feel his pain in the kiss, the need to have someone take it all away. Finally, I am able to comfort him. He pulls away slowly, looking at me in a way that tells me he needs me. He’s always needed me. He wants to cry and laugh, but can do neither, so he finds my lips again. I savor the taste and feel of him, and try to memorize it in case I never experience it again.

With his forehead touching mine, he whispers to me.

“Go home with me.”

I smile. With tears in my eyes, I say yes.

~F