For once, Doggett was almost grateful he had no one to come home to. There was no one there to ask him how his day was. Not that it kept him from rehashing it over and over in his head, playing out what he would tell them.

Well, that asshole Mulder blew me off and treated me like I ain't done shit for this damn department, never mind that I was running it while he was gone. Then I almost ran over two ladies to beat the shit out of him and didn't even get in a good punch for my efforts. But most importantly, I completely fucked up any chance I ever could have had with someone I may or may not be in love with. Like, completely blew it out of the water. Then shot it a few times for good measure. Just killed it.

Oh dear. That's a full day.

John sank down into his couch. All he wanted was a stiff drink and to go to sleep.

And then his phone rang.

Monica's name lit up the screen. John groaned. The last thing he needed was Monica trying to psychoanalyze him. He was going to ignore it when he heard a knock and a voice say, "I can hear it ringing, John."

"Oh for the love of –," John yelled.

"I heard that, too."

He yanked open the door. Monica looked him patiently, then slipped her phone into her pocket and shoved her way in. "What's going on, John?"

"I'm not in the mood to talk," he griped back.

"Well, you need to. So what's going on?"

"I don't know why you're asking me. Ask Mulder what his fucking problem is."

Monica made a humming noise as she poured herself and John a drink. "Mulder is acting out as a way of dealing with his abduction, I think. I am sorry about that, you know. I didn't know he had blown you off that way."

Doggett accepted the drink and grunted his acceptance.

"But that's still pretty typical Mulder. He doesn't usually send you into a rage."

"He isn't usually that irritating."

"True." Monica took a sip of her drink. "I also don't usually find you pressed up against Skinner with his hand on your hip."

Doggett's drink froze mid-air.

"You don't usually call him Walter, either." She took another sip. "So I'll ask again. What's going on, John?"

Doggett swallowed hard. Of course she had seen. He could try and deny it. After all, whatever this thing was, or wasn't, was supposed to be secret. But here it was, less than 24 hours old, and Monica had already figured something out, so apparently, they weren't very good at secrets.

And, Doggett reasoned, if anyone was to know, he was glad it was Monica. Someone he could trust. Someone who had seen him at his worst. And God knows he could use some help with it all. So he told her.

"He came here. Last night."

Monica's eyes lit up. "And?"

"He kissed me. And I kissed him back." He covered his ears as Monica squealed so loud he thought his glass would break. "Jesus, Mon!"

"I can't believe it! I can't believe one of you had the balls to do something about it!"

John winced. "Well, hold your horses. I wouldn't get too excited yet."

She sighed. "What did you do, John?"

"Who says it was me?"

She looked at him.

"Okay, it was me. I panicked, Monica. I just...I panicked. Shoved him away. Told him it was all a mistake. And insulted him for good measure. And then today...he tried to give me an out and I fucked that up too." He slumped down into his chair. "I fucked it all up, Monica. Completely."

"Oh, John."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Well, now you need to fix it."

John barked out a laugh. "That ain't happening, Monica. Trust me. I'll be lucky if the man ever speaks to me again."

"He was doing more than speaking to you in the basement."

"He was trying to keep a murder from happening on his watch," Doggett said dryly.

"John." Monica sat next to him. "I've known you for a long time. We've been through a lot together. So I think I speak from a place of authority when I say, you are not a risk taker. And I haven't seen you in a serious relationship with a woman - with anyone - since Barbara. And trust me, it's not because of lack of interest."

Doggett shrugged.

"And then there's Skinner. I can't say I know much about the man's personal life, but I can tell you he hasn't stayed in his position as long as he has because he wantonly pursues relationships with his subordinates."

"So we have two risk-averse individuals who, professionally, are in sensitive positions and personally, have shown they are quite capable of being alone. And these two individuals, despite these factors, decided that their feelings for each other -" at this, John winced - "yes, feelings, John, you have them - decided that their feelings for each other were enough to take this huge risk."

"We really didn't put this much thought into it," John protested weakly.

"So you made a mistake. Okay, you made it twice. But really, John. After you've come this far, you're just going to give up on it? Because you're a little scared?"

Doggett slammed his drink down. "I'm not a little scared, Monica. In case you don't remember, my last relationship didn't exactly end well. I think it's a little understandable I'm gun-shy."

"I remember all too well, John. But you know damn well that's two completely different situations. And if you think I'm going to sit here and let you use Luke's death as an excuse to not live your life, then you obviously don't know me very well."

Doggett opened his mouth to yell, to tell Monica where in the hell did she got off talking to him like that, when he realized something.

Namely, that she was right.

"Damn it, Monica," he said softly.

She just looked at him. He sank back down into his seat.

"So...what do I do?"

Monica patted his arm. "You talk to him, John."

"I am not talking to Skinner about feelings," he said immediately.

"So don't talk to him about feelings. But talk to him, John. Say something. Something to let him know you regret what you did."

"Oh, Christ." Doggett ran his hands through his hair. "Fine. All right. When?"

Monica grinned and grabbed his keys from the side table. She tossed them in his direction.

"Now?"

"Now."