Author's Note: This is a very odd thing for me to write. One reason is that I have very little X-Files material. Another is that it focuses on Doggett and not Mulder. Another is that it is kinda sappy. The reasons for these things is simple: I recently finished every single episode of X-Files and was disappointed that after following Doggett and Reyes, the storyline switched abruptly back to Mulder and Scully, leaving them high and dry. I had grown to like Doggett a great deal after originally hating him. I felt very sorry for him. He was such a strong and very interesting character. I'm not massively fond of Reyes. In fact, I often don't know what to do with her. However, this just came. It has no real plot, no real point in time other than during the ninth season. I did not include any case specifics for a good reason. They aren't the point. Hopefully you'll read and find the point. So, after this long introduction, onto the short little piece.
He raised his eyebrows at her, letting the disbelief wash over his face and shine from his icy blue eyes.
"Monica, that's not possible." He said it gently, but a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. It amused him that she insisted on suggesting such things.
He mouth was firmly set in its determined line. She wasn't wavering. "How do you know?" Her dark eyes even glinted a bit with the challenge and mild anger.
He sighed and shrugged. "It's just not natural." He stared at her for a second, feeling out her stance. "Conventional laws of nature."
She looked aghast. "That doesn't apply, John!" She turned her head, hair falling over her face, a veil between them.
He longed to reach out, to brush the hair aside, remove the barrier, literally and more than literally.
Instead he turned around and picked up a file.
"So how do you explain it then?" She'd turned back to face him and was eyeing the file.
"I guess I don't." He said gruffly.
"Don't?" It was her turn to raise her eyebrows.
"Right. It's an x-file. No explanation." He slapped the file back on the desk and gathered his coat from the back of the chair.
"And now, instead of finishing this conversation, you're just leaving." Her voice was smug, but he detected the hurt as well. It in turn hurt him.
He paused with one sleeve halfway on and nodded slowly. "Yep." He straightened his jacket and left the room.
It pained him to walk away. Pained him to pace down the hall to the elevator. Pained him to press the button and ride up. Pained him to leave her with the hurt. He hunched his shoulders against the pain.
What pained him more was her blind belief in the impossible. And his own adamant refusal to consider it. He knew all too well that he denied possible explanations. That he was being stubborn. But he couldn't help it. It was him. He simply couldn't make himself consider options that were contrary to logic.
The elevator doors slid open with a ping. He shook his head to clear it of his thought process and stepped off.
He stopped just inside the hall. The doors closed quietly behind him. A female agent walked down the hall. A copyist crossed further down. Doggett simply stood.
Finally, he unstuck his feet from the linoleum and turned back to the elevator. He pushed the down button just as the doors popped open. He glanced up.
She was still mad at him, that much he could tell by the way she didn't meet his eyes. However, he could see that she was also surprised and even a bit happy to see him standing there. She brushed past him.
"I thought you left," she said without turning or stopping.
He strode to catch up with her and match her pace.
"Didn't."
She still wouldn't look at him. "Thanks for waiting," she finally said.
He could think of nothing appropriate to say, so he made do with: "You're welcome."
Finally she turned and flashed him a smile. Her bright, radiating smile. In it he found trust. He found that it didn't matter to her that he didn't believe her theory. All that mattered was that he believed in her. And she would reciprocate.
He smiled back and was complete.