Title: "Unrequited"

Author: Gina (Feretopia@aol.com)

Date: December 20, 2000

Feedback: Feedback.  Give it or else I will be committed to a mental
hospital and then how will I write fanfic?

Rating: PG-13 for some language

Category: UST, DSR (one-sided, anyway)

Spoilers: "Via Negativa", "Within"/"Without", "Roadrunners"    
                  
Summary: Doggett figures out the meaning of those funky dreams of
his...

Disclaimer: Mulder, Doggett, Scully, Mulder Jr., etc., are not mine.  
They belong to CC and 10-13, DUH!  So don’t get mad at me... it’s not
like I’m making money or anything...

Author's Note: Why *was* Doggett dreaming about killing Scully?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Doggett let out a sigh of relief after Agent Scully left his
apartment.  By the time she had left, his cheeks had started to flush
ever so slightly -- he realized just how embarrassing it was for his
partner (whom he had only worked with for a few weeks now) to walk
into his bedroom and come across him asleep, then talk to him as if the
whole arrangement was perfectly normal.  Thankfully he hadn't slept
nude last night; he suspected that if he had, he would be doing more
than just slightly blushing.

He sat up, hands on his knees.  The nightmare had been terrifying;
there had been a hideous lack of control over himself, and he had no
more been able to prevent himself from raising the ax to harm Dana
Scully than he would have been able to stop breathing.

Scully.

Why in the hell was Doggett dreaming about killing her?  First he had
held her severed head in his bloodied hands; then he had been about to
do the severing himself.  That was the last thing he wanted to do, the
*last thing* --

Oh shit.  His pulse rate quickened.  Was it really the last thing?  
Doggett wiped the sweat from his forehead and stared at his hands,
looking from one to the other as if they had something helpful and
enlightening to say to him.  Why had the nightmare frightened him so
much?  True, nearly slicing somebody's forehead open with an ancient
ax was enough to give anyone the chills.  But he'd had nightmares
almost that bad before when on a tough case -- and never had they
affected him like this one had.  Never had he been this shaken.

An answer came to him, then.  With a start Doggett fell back against
the pillow, his mouth dropping open.  His eyes widened.  "No way," he
said hoarsely.  "No way in hell!"  In disbelief he denied this strange
idea hotly -- but another part of him gave in to it, and he was forced
to realize what he had so carefully hidden from himself.

He was falling for Dana Scully.

That explained why terrible things had happened to her in his dreams --
He’d had a nightmare.  A nightmare of the worst thing to happen to
him.  And the worst thing that could happen would be for him to hurt
Scully.

As he thought about her more, he found himself admiring the way that
sleek red hair fell down around her face, the way the startlingly blue
eyes could hold such strength and emotion.  The way her voice could be
wrought of iron -- or could melt into an almost unbearable softness.  
And then the way she would NOT admit weakness -- there was something
intangibly irresistible about it.  The way she would not be
intimidated.  She did whatever the hell she wanted, whether it was
hurling a glass of water into his face with impunity, or wandering
miles in the Arizona desert, searching for --

The phone rang, startling him out of his reverie.  He was stunned to
realize that his heart was pounding nearly as hard as it had when he
woke up that morning.

Doggett picked up the phone, hand shaking a little.  If it was his
partner (his partner!  Like she would ever admit to that!) he didn't
know what he would do.  

Thankfully it was a salesman looking for John Dodges, not John
Doggett.  Doggett hung up, indescribably relieved.

A thought struck his mind.  Hospital.  Why was Scully -- Dana -- what
the hell should he call her?  What did she want to be called?  Everyone
seemed to call her Scully, and she had called him Doggett.  He knew,
though, that if he tried calling her either Scully or Dana to her face,
she’d kick his ass.  No doubt about that.  He had only to look in those
icy eyes and the hostility, the hurt, was obvious.  But he would get
used to it eventually, until Mulder returned -- and that was a big if.

But why was Scully there?  Yeah, yeah, acute abdominal pains.  But
that usually signified something larger.  What?  Appendicitis?  
A tumor of some sort?  Or. . . .  His mouth got dry at the prospect.  
Or was it pregnancy?

Oh, shit.  When he had carried her to the bus when she had that
slug-creature inside of her, she'd had her hand on her stomach.  
Protecting it.

Damn damn damn damn DAMN.

If she was pregnant it was bound to be Mulder's -- from what he knew of
her and her nature she hadn't had any other serious relationships for
years.  No wonder she took such offense when, trying to get
information out of her during their first meeting, he'd suggested she
didn't know Mulder as well as she thought she did.  (STUPID!)  Mulder
had been the only man in her life for seven years.  It had to be his
child.

Doggett felt faint.

Great.  He was falling -- hell, had fallen hard enough to land him in
the hospital -- in love with a pregnant woman saving herself for her
disappeared partner, who was most likely the father of her unborn
child --

No, he was jumping to conclusions here.  There was no real reason for
him to believe that she was pregnant -- but he made a mental note to
himself to file the possibility away in his mind.

However, he *was* falling for her.

Unfortunately, though, Doggett doubted she would even trust him enough
to let him make her coffee.  And most of their time together was spent
with Scully being sullen and defensive, ready at a moment’s notice to
fix him with a chilling glare if he tried to be friendly.

But today . . . today she had entered his home, shown what had seemed
to be genuine concern for him (although she didn't believe a word he'd
said, of course).  Perhaps she could at least come to one day treat
him as a friend --

The phone rang once more.  Expecting the salesman again, Doggett
picked up the phone and fairly snapped, "My name is Doggett, not
Dodges!"

Dana Scully's faintly surprised voice said, "Agent Doggett?"

Oh great.  Perfect.  Just what he needed.  

Quickly he tried to make up for his outburst.  "Agent Scully, I'm
sorry.  I thought you were someone else," he said gruffly.  He
wondered momentarily if they could ever drop the "Agent".

"Oh.  I see," she said skeptically.  "I was just calling to make sure
you were all right -- you seemed awfully shaky.  Are you sure you're
fine?"

"Yeah."  A pause.  "I could ask the same of you."

"Oh?  Let me assure you, I’m fine --"

"When I was at the hospital last night I had to sign in for the
suspect.  While doin' so I saw your name on the sign-in sheet.  Agent
Scully. . . ."  Doggett had to work hard to keep the pained tone out
of his voice.  "Why didn't you tell me you were in the hospital?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line.  "Agent Doggett,
that is my business, and I didn't feel the need to tell you then.  Or
now."

"Dammit, I'm your partner now, whether *you* like it or not.  We’re
gonna have to get used to each other until we find Muldah, an' if we
can't even trust each other. . . ." He let the sentence hang there
between them like smog, dirty and dangerous.  

She took a deep breath and didn’t speak for a moment.  Then, "Believe
it or not . . . I do trust you."  She sounded as if she could use some
convincing as to the validity of that statement.  "But you can imagine
that this is a little hard to get used to, when your partner of seven
years is abducted and you’re suddenly stuck with some new person who
questions you every single step of the way," she said, her tone
brusque.

"This is a little hard to get used to, too," Doggett answered tersely,
wincing.  "I think like a cop.  I don’t know anythin' about paranormal
. . . matters.  An' havin' a partner who resents the very fact that
I dare to breathe the same air as her complicates things just a
*little* bit."  *Zing*, right back at her.  He wanted to put his hand
over his mouth to shut himself up, but he kept speaking, his voice
tight and angry.  "If you could just give me a *chance*, Scully, a
goddamned chance. . . ."  He broke off, flinching at what he’d just
said.

"Give a little, get a little."  Her words seemed spiked with venom.

Doggett grimaced.  Before he could stop himself, he snapped, "I've
given you a lot, Agent Scully, an' I've got nothin' in return.  You're
in the hospital, but you won't tell me why you're there, or even that
you're there at all!  All I wanna do is find Muldah.  But if your idea
of trust is to say you're takin' a personal day when you're in the
hospital, well, then, Muldah'll be waitin' for us a long time."

There was a *whoosh* of air being let out, then dead silence on the
other end.

Dammit.  

Doggett ran a hand over his face, then spoke, his voice low,
apologetic.  "I’m sorry.  I know this is a difficult thing for you
*an'* for me, an' we shouldn’t be takin' cheap shots at each other like
this.  I’m sorry."  Would it be enough to appease Scully’s obvious
anger?

She sighed.  "Agent Doggett, I’m sorry, too.  It’s just . . . this is
so *hard*," she whispered.  He could hear the pain in her voice, and
he realized she was close to breaking down.

"I know.  I know, Agent Scully."  He couldn’t think of anything else
to say.  He closed his eyes, wishing he could be at her side to lay a
comforting hand on her shoulder, to tell her things would be all
right --  But of course, if he tried that, she’d probably haul off and
slug him, or pull her gun on him.  He opened his eyes.

She was quiet and Doggett knew with leaden certainty that she was
thinking of Mulder.  At last Scully began to talk.  "I know that
you’re only trying to do your job, and I understand that all of this
is new to you.  And . . . I haven’t exactly been the best partner."  
Doggett was sorely tempted to affirm that statement, but he kept his
mouth shut.  "I guess I’m trying to say that I apologize for the way
I’ve acted, and that . . . I really do trust you."  She sounded a
little more sure of this now.  "And I appreciate your concern for my
welfare, although I’m not ready yet to disclose the reason for my
hospital stay, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t ask."

"Sure.  Sure," he said slowly, relieved that she no longer seemed to
be pissed.  "An' I’m supposed to be concerned for you if there’s a
problem.  That’s what partners are for.  To watch out for each other."

"Yes.  I --" There was a click.  "I’m sorry, I have a call on the other
line.  Excuse me."

Doggett held on faithfully, wondering who it was.  Probably nobody.  
Maybe a salesman looking for Dana Scullion.  He suddenly felt very
tired.

Then he heard Scully’s voice.  "I’m sorry, but I have to let you go.  
It’s my mother and . . . it’s *very* important."  Another pause.  "I
just wanted to say, Agent Doggett, that you *are* a good partner."  
She sounded very reluctant about saying this.

"Thanks," Doggett said quietly.  She trusted him -- or at least
said she did.  Wasn’t that something?  But somehow it seemed like a
hollow victory.  He felt as if somebody had punched him in the gut and
then ran off, laughing, as he wheezed in pain.  "You too."  It seemed
a necessary statement.

"Good-bye."  There was a click and she was gone.

Doggett set the phone back into its cradle.  He stared at it a moment,
ran his fingers through his tousled dark hair, frowned.  He went as if
to pick the phone up but arrested the motion before his hand even
reached the receiver.  

He gazed at it, his eyes dark with unhappiness.  His face twisted with
resignation.  He turned away from the silent phone and closed his eyes,
then took a deep breath.  A very, very deep breath.

~FIN

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