Title: Driving to Montauk
Author: Scifinerdgrl
Rating: G
Classification: S
Spoilers: Release
Keywords: Pre-XF story, Doggett
Summary: Doggett remembers an unusual conversation with his son,
Luke.
"Which way are we going, Daddy?" the little tow-haired boy asked
enthusiastically.
"We're going East, Luke, toward Grandma's house." His father
looked briefly at the child in the passenger seat and smiled
kindly. "Remember, it's Grandma's birthday today."
"Oh yeah," Luke said with some embarrassment. "Grandma lives
East."
"That's right. She lives further out on Long Island than we do."
"Does great-grandma live East too?" Luke questioned.
John Doggett sighed. It was going to be a long drive.
"Great-grandma isn't alive anymore, Luke. She doesn't live
anywhere."
"Oh..." Luke's brow knit thoughtfully, his forehead wrinkling up
in the same way his father's often did. "Did she used to live
East?"
"No, Luke, she used to live in Queens. That's West of here."
Luke turned and put his face between the seats, peering through
the rear window. "Back there?"
"Yes, Luke," John said patiently. "That's where she used to
live."
"If we turn around can we go visit her?"
"No, we visit her at the cemetery now." He pulled the car to a
stop at a red light and looked gently into his son's face. "Great
grandma is in the cemetery in Queens. We can visit her, but it's
not the same as visiting Grandma. Great Grandma is in the ground
because she's not alive anymore. We put her in the ground because
she died."
"Oh," Luke answered in confusion. "So West is in the ground?"
John couldn't help smiling. "West and East are like right and
left, Luke. They aren't places."
"Oh," Luke said again, still not understanding.
The light turned green and a horn honked behind them. "Luke,
Queens is a place and it's west of here. The ground is a place,
and it's under us all the time."
"I'm glad we're going East," Luke answered. "I don't want to go
under the ground."
John sighed and wondered if he should keep trying to explain. In
his peripheral vision he could see Luke turning in every
direction, peering out of each window. "What are you looking for,
Luke?"
"East. What does it look like?"
John laughed. "It doesn't look like anything. But if you look
ahead you'll see it." He wondered if he could explain without
becoming philosphical. "See? it's a direction, like right and
left, up and down. You can keep going and going and going and
always be going East and never get there, because it isn't a
place."
"Then that's where I want to go," Luke resolved.
"We *are* going there," his father answered, frustration creeping
into his voice. They stopped at another light, and he looked into
his son's face. "Luke? What's wrong?" Luke's eyes were big and
round, and his lips were quivering.
"Are we going to die?" he asked.
"No, of course not! We're going to Grandma's."
"I don't ever want to die and go in the ground, Daddy," Luke said,
his voice trembling. "I want to go East and keep going and going
and going and never be in the ground in Queens."
His son's sweet confusion pulled at John Doggett's Adam's apple.
"Okay, Luke. East it is. But first before you die, we're going
to Grandma's for birthday cake. Isn't that better?"
"I want to go East and East and East and never stop."
"Well, Luke, if we do that we'll come to Montauk Point, then
there's the ocean and we can't drive on the ocean."
"I don't care," Luke crossed his arms in petulant defiance. "I
want to go to Montauk and keep going forever."
"Okay, Luke," his father capitulated. "Someday we'll go to Montauk
at least, but first we go to Grandma's for birthday cake."
Luke remained silent for the next several minutes until they
arrived at the Doggett family home, smiling faces and open arms
greeting them gleefully. At the sight of his favorite cousins,
Luke's demeanor brightened, and he forgot all about East and West,
life and death. His father looked on as the little boy with the
profound thoughts ran to the backyard where he'd played so many
games with his own cousins. Luke was so much like him, yet so
different. He couldn't remember ever having a conversation like
this one with his father.
Years later, John Doggett let his fingers graze over his son's
name, engraved on a wooden box. But despite training his fingers
on the name, he couldn't help staring at the dates beneath it.
Blurred by his tears, the two dates, dates that occurred far too
close together, were no less clear in his mind than the day they
were etched. It was time, he thought. It was finally time to let
Luke go, to let him go East and never stop.
A few hours later, he watched as the remains of the curious little
boy blew Eastward from Montauk Point, never to end their journey,
freed forever from the etched container that had restrained them.
He closed the box, sealing inside forever the emptiness left
behind by a departing soul, and handed it to his ex-wife. He had
held on long enough.
Author: Scifinerdgrl
Rating: G
Classification: S
Spoilers: Release
Keywords: Pre-XF story, Doggett
Summary: Doggett remembers an unusual conversation with his son,
Luke.
"Which way are we going, Daddy?" the little tow-haired boy asked
enthusiastically.
"We're going East, Luke, toward Grandma's house." His father
looked briefly at the child in the passenger seat and smiled
kindly. "Remember, it's Grandma's birthday today."
"Oh yeah," Luke said with some embarrassment. "Grandma lives
East."
"That's right. She lives further out on Long Island than we do."
"Does great-grandma live East too?" Luke questioned.
John Doggett sighed. It was going to be a long drive.
"Great-grandma isn't alive anymore, Luke. She doesn't live
anywhere."
"Oh..." Luke's brow knit thoughtfully, his forehead wrinkling up
in the same way his father's often did. "Did she used to live
East?"
"No, Luke, she used to live in Queens. That's West of here."
Luke turned and put his face between the seats, peering through
the rear window. "Back there?"
"Yes, Luke," John said patiently. "That's where she used to
live."
"If we turn around can we go visit her?"
"No, we visit her at the cemetery now." He pulled the car to a
stop at a red light and looked gently into his son's face. "Great
grandma is in the cemetery in Queens. We can visit her, but it's
not the same as visiting Grandma. Great Grandma is in the ground
because she's not alive anymore. We put her in the ground because
she died."
"Oh," Luke answered in confusion. "So West is in the ground?"
John couldn't help smiling. "West and East are like right and
left, Luke. They aren't places."
"Oh," Luke said again, still not understanding.
The light turned green and a horn honked behind them. "Luke,
Queens is a place and it's west of here. The ground is a place,
and it's under us all the time."
"I'm glad we're going East," Luke answered. "I don't want to go
under the ground."
John sighed and wondered if he should keep trying to explain. In
his peripheral vision he could see Luke turning in every
direction, peering out of each window. "What are you looking for,
Luke?"
"East. What does it look like?"
John laughed. "It doesn't look like anything. But if you look
ahead you'll see it." He wondered if he could explain without
becoming philosphical. "See? it's a direction, like right and
left, up and down. You can keep going and going and going and
always be going East and never get there, because it isn't a
place."
"Then that's where I want to go," Luke resolved.
"We *are* going there," his father answered, frustration creeping
into his voice. They stopped at another light, and he looked into
his son's face. "Luke? What's wrong?" Luke's eyes were big and
round, and his lips were quivering.
"Are we going to die?" he asked.
"No, of course not! We're going to Grandma's."
"I don't ever want to die and go in the ground, Daddy," Luke said,
his voice trembling. "I want to go East and keep going and going
and going and never be in the ground in Queens."
His son's sweet confusion pulled at John Doggett's Adam's apple.
"Okay, Luke. East it is. But first before you die, we're going
to Grandma's for birthday cake. Isn't that better?"
"I want to go East and East and East and never stop."
"Well, Luke, if we do that we'll come to Montauk Point, then
there's the ocean and we can't drive on the ocean."
"I don't care," Luke crossed his arms in petulant defiance. "I
want to go to Montauk and keep going forever."
"Okay, Luke," his father capitulated. "Someday we'll go to Montauk
at least, but first we go to Grandma's for birthday cake."
Luke remained silent for the next several minutes until they
arrived at the Doggett family home, smiling faces and open arms
greeting them gleefully. At the sight of his favorite cousins,
Luke's demeanor brightened, and he forgot all about East and West,
life and death. His father looked on as the little boy with the
profound thoughts ran to the backyard where he'd played so many
games with his own cousins. Luke was so much like him, yet so
different. He couldn't remember ever having a conversation like
this one with his father.
Years later, John Doggett let his fingers graze over his son's
name, engraved on a wooden box. But despite training his fingers
on the name, he couldn't help staring at the dates beneath it.
Blurred by his tears, the two dates, dates that occurred far too
close together, were no less clear in his mind than the day they
were etched. It was time, he thought. It was finally time to let
Luke go, to let him go East and never stop.
A few hours later, he watched as the remains of the curious little
boy blew Eastward from Montauk Point, never to end their journey,
freed forever from the etched container that had restrained them.
He closed the box, sealing inside forever the emptiness left
behind by a departing soul, and handed it to his ex-wife. He had
held on long enough.