Title: Ten Steps to Wellness
Author: Dana Katherine Scully
Classification: Doggett/Reyes Romance
Spoilers: Daemonicus, Empedocles, 4-D
Description: Monica Reyes helps John Doggett to face his
demons and let his son go.
Inspiration: I had to include this because it is rarely ever
this way. My English teacher actually suggested writing
about the X-Files for a creative writing assignment we were
given. The catch was, it HAD to be called Ten Steps to
Wellness. So, the title was Debby's (my English teacher)
idea, but the plot and everything else was mine. Thanks
Debby!
Disclaimer: I don't own Doggett and Reyes, they belong to
Fox, Ten Thirteen etc. No copyright infringement intended.
2004
Special Agent John Doggett stood in the middle of a wide
field, the rain soaking him to the skin and making him
shiver with cold and something else, something more
sinister. The sky was full of angry storm clouds, the
promise of lightening was in the air, and the dark of
midnight was all encompassing. The only light came from a
street light in the adjacent cul-de-sac, where Agent Monica
Reyes stood looking up at the cloudy sky, her swollen belly
illuminated by moonlight. They didn't speak; couldn't speak.
It was all Agent Doggett could do to stand up straight.
Memories of the past flew through his brain and flashed
behind his closed eyelids; memories of all the steps he'd
taken to get to this point.
Memories of his son Luke's body thrown onto the cold hard
ground upon which he now stood, and of the vision that he
and Monica had experienced of the body as ashes. Memories of
his meeting Agent Reyes again in 1998 after 4 years of
grieving for his son: of that day that she took him to her
apartment and set the whole thing in motion. "John, promise
me you'll think about [Luke] tonight. Just tonight, and then
if you never do again that's fine." He remembered his
assignment to the X-Files in 2001, when he'd loved Agent
Scully, and feared for her baby as he had feared for his. He
recalled that case of "daemonic possession" when Monica had
gently wiped the vomit from his face after an encounter with
the mentally ill professor Kobold, and then winced as he
recalled the hurt expression on her face when he'd brushed
her off. He recalled the feel of her thumb at the corner of
his mouth a month later, and then her arms around him after
a very bizarre event, when one moment she'd gone to the
kitchen to get plates and then he'd walked in and found her
crying there, and he remembered thinking a that very moment
that only together could they truly get well. Then his
memories began to take a far darker turn.
He remembered when he'd been kidnaped, and his death dangled
in front of Monica's face as his son's had been dangled in
front of his. He'd refused to give in to the humiliating
demands his captors had made of him, and was brutally beaten
at gunpoint. They'd sent the tape to Monica, who had
immediately driven out alone to save him, with no backup and
all the money in her bank account in an envelope. They'd
refused her ransom and brutally beaten her too, right in
front of an incapacitated John who nearly killed himself for
not being able to do anything. Then they'd tied them
together in a small room, wearing nothing but their
underwear, and left them there (they presumed) to die. But
somehow they'd managed to hold on, and when their captors
came back to throw the bodies out, John and Monica had taken
them by surprise, and managed to escape with their feet
untied. They left their captors badly injured, one with a
broken leg and the other with a serious head injury, and had
escaped into the woods wearing only their undergarments.
With their hands tied together they couldn't really go their
separate ways to think and grieve, so they'd been forced to
talk through their feelings of helplessness and guilt with
each other. After they'd untied their hands, they ran out to
the car shivering with the cold, hot-wired it, and John
drove them to a small hotel in the area. When they'd patched
each other up as well as they could and dressed in the hotel
bathrobes, they had held each other for nearly three hours:
just held each other, and felt the strength of their bond,
of the love that neither one of them could bring themselves
to acknowledge. In those moments, he knew that he couldn't
give up on Luke's killer, because he had seen how far Monica
would go for him.
He remembered her tears on that night, when they'd slept
together in an attempt to heal the other's pain after their
captivity, and then had fought about their future together,
because the fact that he could love another woman as deeply
as he loved her scared him half to death. He also remembered
what had happened after that argument, when she'd snuck into
his room as (she thought) he slept and curled up against his
bare back in her underwear. She had buried her face in his
neck and kissed it, tears streaming down her face onto his
bare skin. He'd pretended to be asleep as she flipped her
hair back over her shoulder and pressed her forehead against
his back, her tears slowing. And then he'd rolled over to
face her. He recalled her shocked little gasp and the "deer-
in-the-headlights" expression in her big brown eyes, but
when he'd place a little kiss on the tip of her nose and
brought his forehead to hers, she had relaxed, and started
to cry again. He'd wrapped his arms around her waist and
gently pulled her closer to him, felt her heart beat against
his own, and thought, My God over and over again. They had
lain together like that for what seemed like an eternity,
and then Monica had started to giggle quietly. "What?" he'd
asked, a little offended. She'd pointed underneath the
sheets and giggled again, her face turning red. "Oh that,"
he'd said, a touch of amusement finding its way into his
voice. "That can be remedied." That night had begun a long,
passionate, loving, but turbulent relationship between them,
and he knew that without that relationship he'd never have
made it to this point.
A year after the incident, the two of them were curled up
together in front of the television in Monica's apartment,
watching a movie about child abduction. They'd found Luke's
killer the week before. He had been dead since two day's
after Luke's death. John had strenuously objected to
watching the film, but Monica had held firm in her belief
that he needed to be encouraged to let Luke's spirit go
free, and insisted. So she held him when he cringed, and
cried with him when the little girl in the film was found
murdered in a field. After the movie, she'd made him some
tea, and they'd sat on her bed and talked about Luke. It was
the first time since Luke's death that he'd been able to
talk about his son without crying. John and Monica had
resolved to help each other recover, and then they'd
unwittingly created the child that she now carried.
And now they were back in the field where it began, the
product of their union growing in Monica's swollen belly as
she slowly walked towards him. "John!" she called, and he
turned to watch her approach. And in that moment, he saw in
her and their child his past and his future: the ties that
bound all of them together in an endless circle. She reached
his side and took his hand in hers', placing it gently at
the curve of her belly. She didn't have to speak as the baby
moved beneath his hand; her eyes told the story of what she
saw happen to John. He was saying goodbye to his son: to the
spirit that loomed behind him always, and letting him fly.
As he was allowing the spirit of their unborn child to take
the place of his long-lost son, in his heart and in his
soul, Monica felt her heart swell with pride and love for
the father of her child. After a moment, his eyes focused
back on hers, and he whispered, "I love you:" to whom he
didn't quite know. A bolt of lightening illuminated their
faces for a split second, and she smiled at him and squeezed
his hand. "Goodbye Luke," she called, smiling as she waved
to the ghost she imagined flying off into the sky. John
turned his head to watch, and as the lightening struck
again, he turned to her and smiled. "C'mon, let's go get
some coco." They walked back to their car, hands clasped, as
a final bolt of lightening illuminated the soaring ghost of
Luke John Doggett for the last time.
Author: Dana Katherine Scully
Classification: Doggett/Reyes Romance
Spoilers: Daemonicus, Empedocles, 4-D
Description: Monica Reyes helps John Doggett to face his
demons and let his son go.
Inspiration: I had to include this because it is rarely ever
this way. My English teacher actually suggested writing
about the X-Files for a creative writing assignment we were
given. The catch was, it HAD to be called Ten Steps to
Wellness. So, the title was Debby's (my English teacher)
idea, but the plot and everything else was mine. Thanks
Debby!
Disclaimer: I don't own Doggett and Reyes, they belong to
Fox, Ten Thirteen etc. No copyright infringement intended.
2004
Special Agent John Doggett stood in the middle of a wide
field, the rain soaking him to the skin and making him
shiver with cold and something else, something more
sinister. The sky was full of angry storm clouds, the
promise of lightening was in the air, and the dark of
midnight was all encompassing. The only light came from a
street light in the adjacent cul-de-sac, where Agent Monica
Reyes stood looking up at the cloudy sky, her swollen belly
illuminated by moonlight. They didn't speak; couldn't speak.
It was all Agent Doggett could do to stand up straight.
Memories of the past flew through his brain and flashed
behind his closed eyelids; memories of all the steps he'd
taken to get to this point.
Memories of his son Luke's body thrown onto the cold hard
ground upon which he now stood, and of the vision that he
and Monica had experienced of the body as ashes. Memories of
his meeting Agent Reyes again in 1998 after 4 years of
grieving for his son: of that day that she took him to her
apartment and set the whole thing in motion. "John, promise
me you'll think about [Luke] tonight. Just tonight, and then
if you never do again that's fine." He remembered his
assignment to the X-Files in 2001, when he'd loved Agent
Scully, and feared for her baby as he had feared for his. He
recalled that case of "daemonic possession" when Monica had
gently wiped the vomit from his face after an encounter with
the mentally ill professor Kobold, and then winced as he
recalled the hurt expression on her face when he'd brushed
her off. He recalled the feel of her thumb at the corner of
his mouth a month later, and then her arms around him after
a very bizarre event, when one moment she'd gone to the
kitchen to get plates and then he'd walked in and found her
crying there, and he remembered thinking a that very moment
that only together could they truly get well. Then his
memories began to take a far darker turn.
He remembered when he'd been kidnaped, and his death dangled
in front of Monica's face as his son's had been dangled in
front of his. He'd refused to give in to the humiliating
demands his captors had made of him, and was brutally beaten
at gunpoint. They'd sent the tape to Monica, who had
immediately driven out alone to save him, with no backup and
all the money in her bank account in an envelope. They'd
refused her ransom and brutally beaten her too, right in
front of an incapacitated John who nearly killed himself for
not being able to do anything. Then they'd tied them
together in a small room, wearing nothing but their
underwear, and left them there (they presumed) to die. But
somehow they'd managed to hold on, and when their captors
came back to throw the bodies out, John and Monica had taken
them by surprise, and managed to escape with their feet
untied. They left their captors badly injured, one with a
broken leg and the other with a serious head injury, and had
escaped into the woods wearing only their undergarments.
With their hands tied together they couldn't really go their
separate ways to think and grieve, so they'd been forced to
talk through their feelings of helplessness and guilt with
each other. After they'd untied their hands, they ran out to
the car shivering with the cold, hot-wired it, and John
drove them to a small hotel in the area. When they'd patched
each other up as well as they could and dressed in the hotel
bathrobes, they had held each other for nearly three hours:
just held each other, and felt the strength of their bond,
of the love that neither one of them could bring themselves
to acknowledge. In those moments, he knew that he couldn't
give up on Luke's killer, because he had seen how far Monica
would go for him.
He remembered her tears on that night, when they'd slept
together in an attempt to heal the other's pain after their
captivity, and then had fought about their future together,
because the fact that he could love another woman as deeply
as he loved her scared him half to death. He also remembered
what had happened after that argument, when she'd snuck into
his room as (she thought) he slept and curled up against his
bare back in her underwear. She had buried her face in his
neck and kissed it, tears streaming down her face onto his
bare skin. He'd pretended to be asleep as she flipped her
hair back over her shoulder and pressed her forehead against
his back, her tears slowing. And then he'd rolled over to
face her. He recalled her shocked little gasp and the "deer-
in-the-headlights" expression in her big brown eyes, but
when he'd place a little kiss on the tip of her nose and
brought his forehead to hers, she had relaxed, and started
to cry again. He'd wrapped his arms around her waist and
gently pulled her closer to him, felt her heart beat against
his own, and thought, My God over and over again. They had
lain together like that for what seemed like an eternity,
and then Monica had started to giggle quietly. "What?" he'd
asked, a little offended. She'd pointed underneath the
sheets and giggled again, her face turning red. "Oh that,"
he'd said, a touch of amusement finding its way into his
voice. "That can be remedied." That night had begun a long,
passionate, loving, but turbulent relationship between them,
and he knew that without that relationship he'd never have
made it to this point.
A year after the incident, the two of them were curled up
together in front of the television in Monica's apartment,
watching a movie about child abduction. They'd found Luke's
killer the week before. He had been dead since two day's
after Luke's death. John had strenuously objected to
watching the film, but Monica had held firm in her belief
that he needed to be encouraged to let Luke's spirit go
free, and insisted. So she held him when he cringed, and
cried with him when the little girl in the film was found
murdered in a field. After the movie, she'd made him some
tea, and they'd sat on her bed and talked about Luke. It was
the first time since Luke's death that he'd been able to
talk about his son without crying. John and Monica had
resolved to help each other recover, and then they'd
unwittingly created the child that she now carried.
And now they were back in the field where it began, the
product of their union growing in Monica's swollen belly as
she slowly walked towards him. "John!" she called, and he
turned to watch her approach. And in that moment, he saw in
her and their child his past and his future: the ties that
bound all of them together in an endless circle. She reached
his side and took his hand in hers', placing it gently at
the curve of her belly. She didn't have to speak as the baby
moved beneath his hand; her eyes told the story of what she
saw happen to John. He was saying goodbye to his son: to the
spirit that loomed behind him always, and letting him fly.
As he was allowing the spirit of their unborn child to take
the place of his long-lost son, in his heart and in his
soul, Monica felt her heart swell with pride and love for
the father of her child. After a moment, his eyes focused
back on hers, and he whispered, "I love you:" to whom he
didn't quite know. A bolt of lightening illuminated their
faces for a split second, and she smiled at him and squeezed
his hand. "Goodbye Luke," she called, smiling as she waved
to the ghost she imagined flying off into the sky. John
turned his head to watch, and as the lightening struck
again, he turned to her and smiled. "C'mon, let's go get
some coco." They walked back to their car, hands clasped, as
a final bolt of lightening illuminated the soaring ghost of
Luke John Doggett for the last time.