"Luke-" John started, coming out of his bedroom. His hair was still
slightly damp from his shower, but he was fully dressed.
"Yes, dad?" Luke called back. He was sitting on the recliner in front of the television, flipping through the channels, "you know, I never knew why I was fascinated with cartoons. I guess it's something you only experience as a kid," Luke mused aloud.
"I'm going to work," John told him, opening the front door, "when I get back, we'll figure out what to do with you." He shook his head, "I'm still having a hard time believing that this isn't some new fancy dream of mine."
"It isn't, Dad," Luke told him, standing up, "and it doesn't work that way. You can't just leave me here."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just not supposed to be like that. How can I help you if you don't want any help?"
Luke's words echoed John's thoughts about Dana. "Fine. We'll make something up on the way," John answered re-opening the door. He turned back and was surprised to see Luke fully dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and gold tie. "That was quick."
"You didn't think that we, habitants of heaven, would take an hour to get ready?" Luke retorted, exiting the house.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" John muttered, following him out.
"Is this a new development, or were you always foul-mouthed?"
= = = =
"Okay, so here's the story, your name's Jack Doggett. You're my brother." John told him as the two walked into the Bureau's elevators.
"Jack Doggett? That's so unimaginative and blasé. Couldn't I keep Luke?"
"Fine. We'll just say we named you – my son – after my brother. Don't talk too much, even if they ask you, and you're just visiting for a couple of days."
"All right." Luke answered with nod, waiting patiently for the doors to open. When they did, the two of them headed down through the basement. Their movements were similar, the way they both walked with a calm, authoritative confidence, that most would realize they were related in some way.
"Morning, John," Monica greeted him, her back to him. She stared at the computer screen, a pencil between her lips, staring at the monitor and the moving cursor.
"Monica, this is my brother, Luke." Monica wheeled around, smiling cautiously. She never did take to foreigners very well, John mused, but was much better at adjusting than Dana.
"Hello," Monica said, shaking Luke's hand. The differences, as well as the similarities, between the two men were obvious. Luke seemed more polished, clean-cut and classy, while John was more down-to-earth [obviously, huh?]. But there was something about them that was distinctly similar, but that was probably because they were brothers, Monica thought.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Luke replied. He remembered her, having seen her and his father try everything they could to track down Luke's killer.
As John and Monica settled down to work, Luke wandered through the rest of the office, studying the notes and posters on the walls.
"Why'd you bring him here?" Monica hissed softly at John, watching Luke flip through the slides on the projector. He seemed disgusted by the images of the dead people that flashed on the screen, but would stop at the occasional crop circle and admire it.
"I didn't know where else to keep him. He wanted to see where I work," John answered. The lie was partially true, but he was amazed that Monica didn't call him on it anyway. She had always known when he was lying.
At around six, John was the only one awake in the office. Monica had gone upstairs to copy some files, and Luke, who had been reading one of the books on criminal profiling, seemed to have dozed off. The telephone rang, and John picked it up.
"John Doggett." He said into the receiver.
"Mr. Doggett?" The voice was shy, and a bit timid, "we've met a couple of times. This is Mrs. Scully, Dana's mother."
John became instantly alert, "What can I do for you, Mrs. Scully?" He asked politely.
"I know this may seem a bit absurd, but I was wondering if you could go and check on Dana and my grandson, William." She asked, "Dana's mentioned you a couple of times, and from what I gather, she admires you, as a friend and person. She's been through some tough times, and I wanted to know if you could visit her."
"I'd be glad to, Mrs. Scully, but surely you'd rather have Monica go- "
"Of course, but I've always felt that you understood her better. She needs someone to listen to her."
"Sure." She thanked him and hung up. John glanced up at Luke, who was studying his father intently.
"You should go," Luke told him firmly.
"What are we going to do about you?" John asked, stumped.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll just stay here, I'm sure that Monica can keep me company," Luke answered with a grin, winking at his father.
"Wait a minute, I thought you said that I couldn't just leave you anywhere."
"Of course I did, I meant anywhere that I didn't LIKE," he waved his father away, "but go." He watched his father leave, sighing. He knew the reason that John needed him. Luke knew his father, having watched him for years, and he knew that John was the type of man who could keep his emotions bottled up inside of him. It was because of his death, Luke thought sadly, but now he was sent back to give his father one more chance at happiness.
Monica entered the office again, a stack of files in her hands. "Where did John go?" She asked Luke, confused.
"He had something important to go do. He just left me here." Luke answered.
"Oh." She set the files on the desk and checked her watch. "I know it's a bit early, but do you want to go out and get a drink or something? This week's just been so stressful."
"I'd love to." Luke answered with a smile.
= = = = =
"Yes, dad?" Luke called back. He was sitting on the recliner in front of the television, flipping through the channels, "you know, I never knew why I was fascinated with cartoons. I guess it's something you only experience as a kid," Luke mused aloud.
"I'm going to work," John told him, opening the front door, "when I get back, we'll figure out what to do with you." He shook his head, "I'm still having a hard time believing that this isn't some new fancy dream of mine."
"It isn't, Dad," Luke told him, standing up, "and it doesn't work that way. You can't just leave me here."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just not supposed to be like that. How can I help you if you don't want any help?"
Luke's words echoed John's thoughts about Dana. "Fine. We'll make something up on the way," John answered re-opening the door. He turned back and was surprised to see Luke fully dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and gold tie. "That was quick."
"You didn't think that we, habitants of heaven, would take an hour to get ready?" Luke retorted, exiting the house.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" John muttered, following him out.
"Is this a new development, or were you always foul-mouthed?"
= = = =
"Okay, so here's the story, your name's Jack Doggett. You're my brother." John told him as the two walked into the Bureau's elevators.
"Jack Doggett? That's so unimaginative and blasé. Couldn't I keep Luke?"
"Fine. We'll just say we named you – my son – after my brother. Don't talk too much, even if they ask you, and you're just visiting for a couple of days."
"All right." Luke answered with nod, waiting patiently for the doors to open. When they did, the two of them headed down through the basement. Their movements were similar, the way they both walked with a calm, authoritative confidence, that most would realize they were related in some way.
"Morning, John," Monica greeted him, her back to him. She stared at the computer screen, a pencil between her lips, staring at the monitor and the moving cursor.
"Monica, this is my brother, Luke." Monica wheeled around, smiling cautiously. She never did take to foreigners very well, John mused, but was much better at adjusting than Dana.
"Hello," Monica said, shaking Luke's hand. The differences, as well as the similarities, between the two men were obvious. Luke seemed more polished, clean-cut and classy, while John was more down-to-earth [obviously, huh?]. But there was something about them that was distinctly similar, but that was probably because they were brothers, Monica thought.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Luke replied. He remembered her, having seen her and his father try everything they could to track down Luke's killer.
As John and Monica settled down to work, Luke wandered through the rest of the office, studying the notes and posters on the walls.
"Why'd you bring him here?" Monica hissed softly at John, watching Luke flip through the slides on the projector. He seemed disgusted by the images of the dead people that flashed on the screen, but would stop at the occasional crop circle and admire it.
"I didn't know where else to keep him. He wanted to see where I work," John answered. The lie was partially true, but he was amazed that Monica didn't call him on it anyway. She had always known when he was lying.
At around six, John was the only one awake in the office. Monica had gone upstairs to copy some files, and Luke, who had been reading one of the books on criminal profiling, seemed to have dozed off. The telephone rang, and John picked it up.
"John Doggett." He said into the receiver.
"Mr. Doggett?" The voice was shy, and a bit timid, "we've met a couple of times. This is Mrs. Scully, Dana's mother."
John became instantly alert, "What can I do for you, Mrs. Scully?" He asked politely.
"I know this may seem a bit absurd, but I was wondering if you could go and check on Dana and my grandson, William." She asked, "Dana's mentioned you a couple of times, and from what I gather, she admires you, as a friend and person. She's been through some tough times, and I wanted to know if you could visit her."
"I'd be glad to, Mrs. Scully, but surely you'd rather have Monica go- "
"Of course, but I've always felt that you understood her better. She needs someone to listen to her."
"Sure." She thanked him and hung up. John glanced up at Luke, who was studying his father intently.
"You should go," Luke told him firmly.
"What are we going to do about you?" John asked, stumped.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll just stay here, I'm sure that Monica can keep me company," Luke answered with a grin, winking at his father.
"Wait a minute, I thought you said that I couldn't just leave you anywhere."
"Of course I did, I meant anywhere that I didn't LIKE," he waved his father away, "but go." He watched his father leave, sighing. He knew the reason that John needed him. Luke knew his father, having watched him for years, and he knew that John was the type of man who could keep his emotions bottled up inside of him. It was because of his death, Luke thought sadly, but now he was sent back to give his father one more chance at happiness.
Monica entered the office again, a stack of files in her hands. "Where did John go?" She asked Luke, confused.
"He had something important to go do. He just left me here." Luke answered.
"Oh." She set the files on the desk and checked her watch. "I know it's a bit early, but do you want to go out and get a drink or something? This week's just been so stressful."
"I'd love to." Luke answered with a smile.
= = = = =