Title: Goodnight, John
Author: Scifinerdgrl
Rating: PG
Summary: For a bedtime story challenge. Doggett tells
Reyes a bedtime story when she can't sleep.
*****
"I can't sleep," Reyes said as she opened the door to
Doggett's motel room. "Are you awake?"
Doggett raised himself up on one elbow and smiled.
"Jet lag?"
"I suppose," she sighed. "Mind if I sit down?"
He sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Too bad
this place doesn't have room service. I'd offer you
some warm milk."
"That never worked for me anyway. My mother used to
tell me bedtime stories."
"Which ones?" In the dim light from the bathroom
fixture she could see his teeth as he flashed a smile.
"I know them all! I used to tell them to Luke."
"Mexican stories," she smiled back. "I probably never
heard the classic American ones."
"Then you're in for a treat!" He patted the bed,
urging her to sit next to him. "I know a story that I
think you'll love."
She obeyed, settling into the other side of his bed
with her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around
her shoulders and he began his tale:
"Once upon a time there was a man named Rip Van
Winkle. He lived in the mountains with his wife, who
was a real nag. One day he decided to get away from
her for a few hours, so he took his gun and his dog
and went squirrel-hunting at a neighboring mountain.
He took shelter when it started thundering, and there
he found an old man in old-fashioned clothes on an
errand to deliver a huge keg of brew. The old man
asked him for help, and the two carried the keg to an
old-fashioned town in a secluded hollow. After he'd
helped the old man with the load, Rip helped himself
to the brew. He then fell into a deep sleep. When he
woke up the old man was gone, as was his hunting dog,
and his gun was rusted beyond use. He was worried
about the nagging his wife would give him for staying
out all night, and he stroked his chin nervously. But
he was amazed to find in place of his chin, a long,
matted beard. Puzzled, he made his way back to his
town, which had suddenly changed. Nobody on the
street seemed to know him. His house was empty and
needed repair, and a dog that only vaguely looked like
his growled at him. "Even my dog doesn't recognize
me," he said.
So he went to his favorite tavern, but nobody knew him
there, either. Out on the town square he found a
woman with a baby. 'Ma'am, have you heard of Rip Van
Winkle?' he asked.
The woman answered: 'He was my father. It's twenty
years since he went away from home with his gun, and
never has been heard of since. His dog came home
without him; but whether he shot himself, or was
carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell."
He asked about his wife the nag and was relieved to
find she had recently died. "It's me. I am your
father!" he announced. After a long while he
convinced everyone that he was the long lost Rip Van
Winkle, then he moved in with his daughter and for the
rest of his life he was a legend in his town
THE END"
Reyes' soft breathing and the weight of her head on
his shoulder told him that the story had done the
trick. She was sound asleep. He moved aside, letting
her fall gently onto his pillow.
"Goodnight, Monica," he whispered, though he was sure
she wouldn't hear him. "Sometime I'll tell you the
story of the man who came out of a nine-year
nightmare to find a woman who could make him feel
twenty years younger."
Once inside her adjoining room, he rested his head
against the door as he slowly closed it, trying not to
make a sound. And it was then that he heard a
feminine voice whisper, "Goodnight, John."
THE OTHER END
Author: Scifinerdgrl
Rating: PG
Summary: For a bedtime story challenge. Doggett tells
Reyes a bedtime story when she can't sleep.
*****
"I can't sleep," Reyes said as she opened the door to
Doggett's motel room. "Are you awake?"
Doggett raised himself up on one elbow and smiled.
"Jet lag?"
"I suppose," she sighed. "Mind if I sit down?"
He sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Too bad
this place doesn't have room service. I'd offer you
some warm milk."
"That never worked for me anyway. My mother used to
tell me bedtime stories."
"Which ones?" In the dim light from the bathroom
fixture she could see his teeth as he flashed a smile.
"I know them all! I used to tell them to Luke."
"Mexican stories," she smiled back. "I probably never
heard the classic American ones."
"Then you're in for a treat!" He patted the bed,
urging her to sit next to him. "I know a story that I
think you'll love."
She obeyed, settling into the other side of his bed
with her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around
her shoulders and he began his tale:
"Once upon a time there was a man named Rip Van
Winkle. He lived in the mountains with his wife, who
was a real nag. One day he decided to get away from
her for a few hours, so he took his gun and his dog
and went squirrel-hunting at a neighboring mountain.
He took shelter when it started thundering, and there
he found an old man in old-fashioned clothes on an
errand to deliver a huge keg of brew. The old man
asked him for help, and the two carried the keg to an
old-fashioned town in a secluded hollow. After he'd
helped the old man with the load, Rip helped himself
to the brew. He then fell into a deep sleep. When he
woke up the old man was gone, as was his hunting dog,
and his gun was rusted beyond use. He was worried
about the nagging his wife would give him for staying
out all night, and he stroked his chin nervously. But
he was amazed to find in place of his chin, a long,
matted beard. Puzzled, he made his way back to his
town, which had suddenly changed. Nobody on the
street seemed to know him. His house was empty and
needed repair, and a dog that only vaguely looked like
his growled at him. "Even my dog doesn't recognize
me," he said.
So he went to his favorite tavern, but nobody knew him
there, either. Out on the town square he found a
woman with a baby. 'Ma'am, have you heard of Rip Van
Winkle?' he asked.
The woman answered: 'He was my father. It's twenty
years since he went away from home with his gun, and
never has been heard of since. His dog came home
without him; but whether he shot himself, or was
carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell."
He asked about his wife the nag and was relieved to
find she had recently died. "It's me. I am your
father!" he announced. After a long while he
convinced everyone that he was the long lost Rip Van
Winkle, then he moved in with his daughter and for the
rest of his life he was a legend in his town
THE END"
Reyes' soft breathing and the weight of her head on
his shoulder told him that the story had done the
trick. She was sound asleep. He moved aside, letting
her fall gently onto his pillow.
"Goodnight, Monica," he whispered, though he was sure
she wouldn't hear him. "Sometime I'll tell you the
story of the man who came out of a nine-year
nightmare to find a woman who could make him feel
twenty years younger."
Once inside her adjoining room, he rested his head
against the door as he slowly closed it, trying not to
make a sound. And it was then that he heard a
feminine voice whisper, "Goodnight, John."
THE OTHER END