Title: Embracing What Life Gives you – [By Genise A. Mora]
Rating: G – PG; nothing wrong with this one kiddies.
Disclaimer: Scottis is my property. Doggett, Scully, and Mulder are property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the FOX Network.
Classification: Dogget/Scully romance
Keywords: Doggett/Scully Romance
Spoilers: season 8 in general
Summary: After meeting an intriguing friend at a bar, John begins to question his relationship with Scully.
Personal note: Okay, I know you M/S 'shippers out there are hating me for this one, but let me just say that I think the M/S relationship is great as well, but while Mulder seems like a fantastic match for Scully, you've got to wonder if she'd ever feel anything for Doggett.
Feedback: Welcome. Please send me comments, constructive ones that is. I know this isn't exactly one of my greater fics, I'm a bit rusty since I've been busy, but I'd certainly welcome comments.
E-mail: rockenpnay@yahoo.com
AIM: rockenpnay
Embracing What Life Gives You – [By Genise A. Mora]
===========
The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but he welcomed the pain and downed the entire glass, setting it down on the bar with a small thud. The bar was crowded and noisy, a haven for people who wanted to get laid as well as those that had chosen to drink their sorrows away.
John stared into the bottom of his glass. It wasn't that late, but he'd needed to get out, away from everything that mattered to him. He needed to go somewhere that didn't have any of the complications that his life had. So, after walking an incredibly long distance, he found himself at this bar and went inside.
"You okay, Mister?" He heard a woman's voice ask him. He looked up from his glass, surprised to see an attractive young woman sitting on the black stool next to him.
"Sure." He said, not altogether convincingly but not caring. He went back to nursing his empty glass, his shoulders bent slightly.
She sighed, "that was a stupid question, wasn't it? If you're here, you can't possible be all right. None of us are." She gestured to the other people sitting at the bar. The bartender placed a beer in front of her, and he took a small sip. "What's your choice of sorrow for tonight? We've got infidelity, unemployment, divorce, death, and for desert a nice serving of bankruptcy." She joked, yet the sarcasm was clearly evident in the grimace she made as she took another sip of her beer.
"What's your story?" He asked her, a bit thankful for the distraction.
"I've got a huge plate of infidelity." She said, "see that woman over there?" She gestured with her head, and John looked towards the back of the bar at the attractive young woman sitting in a booth. "My husband's supposed to meet her here in about twenty minutes. I came early because I didn't want to miss anything. My name's Scottie."
"Scottie? That's an unusual name for a woman."
"Well, my parents were a bit unusual themselves. Wanted a son and got four daughters instead. Anyway, since we're already here, care to tell me what's your story?"
"It's a bit complicated," He said after a moment.
"Honey, life in general is complicated." She said, pulling out a cigarette. He noticed then how expensive-looking her red purse was, as well as the ring and bracelet on her hand. "Complication doesn't spare you just because you're rich, poor, or Goddamn stupid. I happen to think I'm a mixture of all three."
"There's this woman at work." John said after a moment, not able to help himself.
"Ah, and you've got the hots for her?" Scottie smiled knowingly, "and it's killing you knowing she doesn't want to have sex with you."
"It's not that," he said, surprised by her frankness and by her cynicism toward the relationship that can be shared between a man and a woman. "I think I love her. It's just too weird, and, well – complicated."
"Go on. It seems like I'll be here a while."
John couldn't help talking. He'd never had anyone who was just willing to listen. Lately, everyone wanted a piece of him. So many demands, so many people waiting to get a piece of him. He hadn't had someone to talk to in a long time. He spoke about Luke, about his ex-wife and the grief that had torn their marriage apart. About how the relationship and chemistry between Mulder and Scully, and how he had felt like an outsider. About how he couldn't think of Scully without wanting to love her, about how he couldn't stop thinking about being a father-figure to her baby.
"Seems to me that you've got it bad," Scottie said, lighting another cigarette. Throughout his narration, she'd lit more than five, stomping them out after a few minutes.
"You know," He said, gesturing toward the cigarette between her lips, "those will kill you."
"Yeah, if this life doesn't do it first." She answered with a shrug, pulling the cigarette out and holding it between her fingers. "You're a good man, John, a lot of women search for men like you and end up with slimy scumbags hiding beneath the façade of an honest person. Go to her. Life's complicated, yes, but even complication can make life easier, if you're willing to embrace it."
"That's the first positive thing you've said all evening," He answered, standing up.
"Yeah, well, beneath all this make-up you'll find that I'm really Oprah Winfrey. I'm just wearing this disguise so I can nurse a beer in secret without the paparazzi finding out. It was nice meeting you."
"Nice meeting you too." He replied. They shook hands, "Thanks for listening, Scottie."
"No problem. And if things work out, is it okay if I ask you and your gal to make an appearance on my TV show?"
*****
He went for a walk, wandering through the streets of D.C., the cold weather hardly affecting him. He'd been through worse. The prospect of being mugged on a deserted street didn't even worry him, his body was as fit as it could be and his Marine training would be sufficient enough to protect himself.
He just kept walking, thinking about everything in his life that had gone wrong, Luke, his wife, Scully. All the reasons that motivated him dedicate his life to his work were summed up in those three people. He was surprised to find himself in front of Scully's apartment complex, staring up at her window from across the street. He hadn't even intended on following Scottie's advice. A bus stop was near the corner, and he sat on it, gazing up at the light of the window.
He couldn't even fool himself anymore. He loved her. She walked up to the window just then, her cordless phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, her baby curled up in her arms. She was talking, lightly bouncing the baby as she smiled at whoever was on the other end of the line.
John had felt like this for a while. Working with someone that incredible, that intriguing, had unlocked emotions that he had successfully kept locked up. He tucked his hands further into the pockets of his black trench coat, suddenly feeling cold, as if the feelings and surroundings of the real world had finally gotten through to him. It had been tough, trying to play these games where he pretended that his interest in her safety, and that of her baby's, was because she was his partner. He wondered if she felt the same, but had been too frightened to take the initiative. Every time either one of them got on the verge of saying something along those lines, they would clamp up and conversations between them returned to being businesslike and professional.
His gaze turned from her window to the street. It wasn't quite deserted, cars passed in front of him every now and then, and some people passed by him on the sidewalk. He wondered where Mulder was, Scully's best friend, the father of her baby. The irony of the entire situation was suddenly humorous to him. It seemed like one gigantic soap opera, with a sci-fi twist. Scully, childless and barren, invited a lonely Mulder into her bed, and became pregnant. Mulder, abducted by probe-wielding green aliens, returns to save the day, only to learn that John had taken over his job at the FBI and that his best friend had given birth to his son. A show like that would get great ratings, he thought.
Scully hung up the phone, placing it down on the small coffee table next to the couch, smiling down lovingly into the face of her sleeping child. She stepped toward the window, looking out into the street. The figure sitting on the bench across the street surprised her, and she could tell from his build and the outline of his face that it was John. She wondered what he was doing there, sitting by himself, just beneath her window at such a late hour. He wasn't looking at her window, just seemed to be deep in thought.
She set William down in his crib, gently covering him with a blanket. She pulled her black coat on and slipped on a pair of sneakers before heading outside. The chill hit her face immediately, biting into her exposed flesh. John was still sitting on the bench, but the surprise at seeing her standing across the street was evident on his face. He stood up awkwardly, embarrassed at having been found "spying" on her.
"Scully," he said, pulling a hand out of his pocket and running it through his hair.
"What are you doing here, Agent Doggett?" She asked gently, watching his face as she crossed the street. He couldn't look at her, mortified that she should think he was a closet-stalker or whatever the correct terminology was for those perverts.
"I just, well," He looked both ways at the street, but there was nothing to save him from this embarrassment. His tongue felt heavy, and he felt like a teenager again. He took a deep breath, remembering what Scottie had said earlier. Be willing to embrace what life throws at you. He looked down at his feet before looking at her.
"I was just walking around, and I found myself here." He gestured toward her apartment.
She processed that information carefully in her head. "Why?" She asked him after a moment, studying his face intently.
"Because it was where I wanted to be." He said gently, "look, Dana, I know this is entirely strange, but I'm in love with you. I couldn't help it."
She was quiet for a moment, and John could feel the rejection preparing to attack him and render him helpless. Instead, she reached for his hand, holding it softly, almost shyly. Her hand felt warm in his cold one. "Why don't you come inside, John. It's cold out here," She said, smiling at him as they headed toward her apartment.
Rating: G – PG; nothing wrong with this one kiddies.
Disclaimer: Scottis is my property. Doggett, Scully, and Mulder are property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the FOX Network.
Classification: Dogget/Scully romance
Keywords: Doggett/Scully Romance
Spoilers: season 8 in general
Summary: After meeting an intriguing friend at a bar, John begins to question his relationship with Scully.
Personal note: Okay, I know you M/S 'shippers out there are hating me for this one, but let me just say that I think the M/S relationship is great as well, but while Mulder seems like a fantastic match for Scully, you've got to wonder if she'd ever feel anything for Doggett.
Feedback: Welcome. Please send me comments, constructive ones that is. I know this isn't exactly one of my greater fics, I'm a bit rusty since I've been busy, but I'd certainly welcome comments.
E-mail: rockenpnay@yahoo.com
AIM: rockenpnay
Embracing What Life Gives You – [By Genise A. Mora]
===========
The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but he welcomed the pain and downed the entire glass, setting it down on the bar with a small thud. The bar was crowded and noisy, a haven for people who wanted to get laid as well as those that had chosen to drink their sorrows away.
John stared into the bottom of his glass. It wasn't that late, but he'd needed to get out, away from everything that mattered to him. He needed to go somewhere that didn't have any of the complications that his life had. So, after walking an incredibly long distance, he found himself at this bar and went inside.
"You okay, Mister?" He heard a woman's voice ask him. He looked up from his glass, surprised to see an attractive young woman sitting on the black stool next to him.
"Sure." He said, not altogether convincingly but not caring. He went back to nursing his empty glass, his shoulders bent slightly.
She sighed, "that was a stupid question, wasn't it? If you're here, you can't possible be all right. None of us are." She gestured to the other people sitting at the bar. The bartender placed a beer in front of her, and he took a small sip. "What's your choice of sorrow for tonight? We've got infidelity, unemployment, divorce, death, and for desert a nice serving of bankruptcy." She joked, yet the sarcasm was clearly evident in the grimace she made as she took another sip of her beer.
"What's your story?" He asked her, a bit thankful for the distraction.
"I've got a huge plate of infidelity." She said, "see that woman over there?" She gestured with her head, and John looked towards the back of the bar at the attractive young woman sitting in a booth. "My husband's supposed to meet her here in about twenty minutes. I came early because I didn't want to miss anything. My name's Scottie."
"Scottie? That's an unusual name for a woman."
"Well, my parents were a bit unusual themselves. Wanted a son and got four daughters instead. Anyway, since we're already here, care to tell me what's your story?"
"It's a bit complicated," He said after a moment.
"Honey, life in general is complicated." She said, pulling out a cigarette. He noticed then how expensive-looking her red purse was, as well as the ring and bracelet on her hand. "Complication doesn't spare you just because you're rich, poor, or Goddamn stupid. I happen to think I'm a mixture of all three."
"There's this woman at work." John said after a moment, not able to help himself.
"Ah, and you've got the hots for her?" Scottie smiled knowingly, "and it's killing you knowing she doesn't want to have sex with you."
"It's not that," he said, surprised by her frankness and by her cynicism toward the relationship that can be shared between a man and a woman. "I think I love her. It's just too weird, and, well – complicated."
"Go on. It seems like I'll be here a while."
John couldn't help talking. He'd never had anyone who was just willing to listen. Lately, everyone wanted a piece of him. So many demands, so many people waiting to get a piece of him. He hadn't had someone to talk to in a long time. He spoke about Luke, about his ex-wife and the grief that had torn their marriage apart. About how the relationship and chemistry between Mulder and Scully, and how he had felt like an outsider. About how he couldn't think of Scully without wanting to love her, about how he couldn't stop thinking about being a father-figure to her baby.
"Seems to me that you've got it bad," Scottie said, lighting another cigarette. Throughout his narration, she'd lit more than five, stomping them out after a few minutes.
"You know," He said, gesturing toward the cigarette between her lips, "those will kill you."
"Yeah, if this life doesn't do it first." She answered with a shrug, pulling the cigarette out and holding it between her fingers. "You're a good man, John, a lot of women search for men like you and end up with slimy scumbags hiding beneath the façade of an honest person. Go to her. Life's complicated, yes, but even complication can make life easier, if you're willing to embrace it."
"That's the first positive thing you've said all evening," He answered, standing up.
"Yeah, well, beneath all this make-up you'll find that I'm really Oprah Winfrey. I'm just wearing this disguise so I can nurse a beer in secret without the paparazzi finding out. It was nice meeting you."
"Nice meeting you too." He replied. They shook hands, "Thanks for listening, Scottie."
"No problem. And if things work out, is it okay if I ask you and your gal to make an appearance on my TV show?"
*****
He went for a walk, wandering through the streets of D.C., the cold weather hardly affecting him. He'd been through worse. The prospect of being mugged on a deserted street didn't even worry him, his body was as fit as it could be and his Marine training would be sufficient enough to protect himself.
He just kept walking, thinking about everything in his life that had gone wrong, Luke, his wife, Scully. All the reasons that motivated him dedicate his life to his work were summed up in those three people. He was surprised to find himself in front of Scully's apartment complex, staring up at her window from across the street. He hadn't even intended on following Scottie's advice. A bus stop was near the corner, and he sat on it, gazing up at the light of the window.
He couldn't even fool himself anymore. He loved her. She walked up to the window just then, her cordless phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, her baby curled up in her arms. She was talking, lightly bouncing the baby as she smiled at whoever was on the other end of the line.
John had felt like this for a while. Working with someone that incredible, that intriguing, had unlocked emotions that he had successfully kept locked up. He tucked his hands further into the pockets of his black trench coat, suddenly feeling cold, as if the feelings and surroundings of the real world had finally gotten through to him. It had been tough, trying to play these games where he pretended that his interest in her safety, and that of her baby's, was because she was his partner. He wondered if she felt the same, but had been too frightened to take the initiative. Every time either one of them got on the verge of saying something along those lines, they would clamp up and conversations between them returned to being businesslike and professional.
His gaze turned from her window to the street. It wasn't quite deserted, cars passed in front of him every now and then, and some people passed by him on the sidewalk. He wondered where Mulder was, Scully's best friend, the father of her baby. The irony of the entire situation was suddenly humorous to him. It seemed like one gigantic soap opera, with a sci-fi twist. Scully, childless and barren, invited a lonely Mulder into her bed, and became pregnant. Mulder, abducted by probe-wielding green aliens, returns to save the day, only to learn that John had taken over his job at the FBI and that his best friend had given birth to his son. A show like that would get great ratings, he thought.
Scully hung up the phone, placing it down on the small coffee table next to the couch, smiling down lovingly into the face of her sleeping child. She stepped toward the window, looking out into the street. The figure sitting on the bench across the street surprised her, and she could tell from his build and the outline of his face that it was John. She wondered what he was doing there, sitting by himself, just beneath her window at such a late hour. He wasn't looking at her window, just seemed to be deep in thought.
She set William down in his crib, gently covering him with a blanket. She pulled her black coat on and slipped on a pair of sneakers before heading outside. The chill hit her face immediately, biting into her exposed flesh. John was still sitting on the bench, but the surprise at seeing her standing across the street was evident on his face. He stood up awkwardly, embarrassed at having been found "spying" on her.
"Scully," he said, pulling a hand out of his pocket and running it through his hair.
"What are you doing here, Agent Doggett?" She asked gently, watching his face as she crossed the street. He couldn't look at her, mortified that she should think he was a closet-stalker or whatever the correct terminology was for those perverts.
"I just, well," He looked both ways at the street, but there was nothing to save him from this embarrassment. His tongue felt heavy, and he felt like a teenager again. He took a deep breath, remembering what Scottie had said earlier. Be willing to embrace what life throws at you. He looked down at his feet before looking at her.
"I was just walking around, and I found myself here." He gestured toward her apartment.
She processed that information carefully in her head. "Why?" She asked him after a moment, studying his face intently.
"Because it was where I wanted to be." He said gently, "look, Dana, I know this is entirely strange, but I'm in love with you. I couldn't help it."
She was quiet for a moment, and John could feel the rejection preparing to attack him and render him helpless. Instead, she reached for his hand, holding it softly, almost shyly. Her hand felt warm in his cold one. "Why don't you come inside, John. It's cold out here," She said, smiling at him as they headed toward her apartment.
