Title: Blindsided

Author: spookycc

Classification: V, A, DRF, possibly borderline DRR

Rating: Prolly PG-13, same as the eps.

Spoilers: "William"

Summary: It is SO like CC/DD to torture Doggett and not let us see anyone
take care of the man. ;-/  Fill-in-the-Blank and Post-Ep for "William",
first person Reyes POV

Dedication: To Doggett's Bitch: best friend, mentor, beta, soulmate. To
Girlassassin, survivor and dear friend. And to Robert Patrick, whose John
Doggett has brought out more emotion in me than any other character.

Archival: I'll take care of Gossamer and Ephemeral. Anyone else who wants it
is welcome to it - just let me know where it's going. XFMU, DTA & OBSDS
member sites, it's yours if you want it, no notification needed.

Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine. Neither is the ep. I really
liked DD's direction - it's just that these scenes should have been in
there. ;-)
 

Feedback: Love it. spookycc@earthlink.net
 

> ****
 
 

I had just settled in to watch some TV when my cell phone rang - I could
hear it from my coat pocket.

"Reyes" I tried not to sound annoyed.

"Monica, it's me." His voice. I know it so well, and the weakness in it
scared me.

"What's wrong, John?"

"I caught some guy riflin' our files," he continued. ".wondered if you could
come down here and help me out."

"Are you ok?" Not that I minded helping - not at all - but it sounded like
something he normally would handle on his own.

His tone became almost apologetic. "Well, before I caught up to him, I kinda
got my ass kicked."

Damn. That's why his voice sounded weak. "Where are you?"

"In our office."

"I'm on my way."

> ****

I threw on a coat and grabbed my car keys, gun, badge and phone. I made
record time - hardly any traffic on the road at 11:45pm. Too late for
workers, too early for drunks.

Our office door was standing open, and I walked hurriedly toward it as soon
as the elevator opened on the basement level. I could hear John's tired,
frustrated voice before I reached the doorway.

"If you won't talk to me, who the hell *will* you talk to?"

The man didn't answer - they both turned to face me as I entered. John was
leaning on his desk, and the man he'd apprehended sat at the chair behind
Scully's desk. His face was horribly disfigured, as was the one hand I could
see.

But my attention was pulled immediately back to John. His left cheek was
bleeding, and he looked like he'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Except,
thankfully, those ears were still intact.

"Thank God you're here, Monica. See if you can talk some sense into this
guy."

I checked the man's hands - they were securely cuffed, so I nodded to John.
"That can wait. Let's check you out first."

John shook his head. "We need to find out what the hell this guy was doin'
here, what he was lookin' for." It was so like John - business first,
injuries later. There were more than a few times he'd been hurt on a case
and seemed not to even notice it until whomever we were chasing was caught.

As it turned out, the man wouldn't speak much to me, either. He said his
name was Daniel Miller, and that he felt he was a victim of the "alien
conspiracy", as he put it. I knew that Scully would want to be in on this,
so, reluctantly, I hit her speed dial number on my cell, and woke her up.
She told me she'd be here as soon as she could be. I heard John pondering
aloud that it must be hellish to find babysitters at such odd hours.

I pulled John off to one side off the office, and he wobbled just a bit - I
let him lean on me until he found his balance, and he threw a scathing look
back toward the intruder. I guided him to a chair, and he relaxed under my
hands.

I moistened a washcloth in the tiny bathroom down the hall, and brought it
back to our office. John was sitting, motionless, staring at the intruder. I
dabbed gently with the cloth, cleaning the blood from John's cheek. His eyes
focused on me, and I saw the side of John Doggett very few people are privy
to - the vulnerable side, his walls lowered. It pulled at the tiny piece of
my heart that wasn't already his.

When he turned his attention back to our intruder, his gaze was cold, blue
ice.

I checked John for other wounds - no more blood, but as I ran my hands over
his head, he flinched. I ruffled his hair and found a swollen area on the
right side of his head, just behind his ear. "My God, John - what did he do
to you?" I kept my voice low, so the man couldn't hear me.

"Let's just say it feels like he was wearin' steel-toed sneakers," John's
eyes were pulled into a grimace as I probed the tender area gently.

I wrung out the washcloth I'd been using, and emptied our tiny office
refrigerator of its one mini-tray of ice. Wrapping the cloth around the ice,
I sat beside John, and held the cloth gently against the side of his head.

"How do you feel? Are you still dizzy?"

He shook his head, but not very animatedly, I noticed. "I took a coupla
aspirin. They should kick in soon." He tried to stand up, a little too
quickly, and almost fell, before I guided him back to the chair.

"John, I want you to sit tight for a few minutes, ok?" He pushed against me,
trying to get up, but the ease with which I held him down told me he wasn't
quite ready for that. I picked up his hand and put it on the washcloth, and
he sighed, and held it in place.

The only way I could keep John down for even a short time was by telling him
I'd try to talk to the man again.

I went back to Scully's desk. The man's appearance really was hideous  - it
looked like he'd been burned. I tried to calm him down, ease his worries. I
told him Agent Scully was on her way. He seemed to brighten at that.
Although I couldn't really see his eyes all that well.

I questioned "Mr. Miller" about the reason he broke into the FBI, into our
office. He acted genuinely scared - he wanted information, and he wanted
protection. I spoke to him for a short time, but was unable to get much more
out of him.

I turned around and almost bumped into John, who had regained his sense of b
alance. I threw a warning glare at him, which he simply ignored.

I shook my head. There was no getting John to slow down when there were
clues to be followed or questions to be answered. By the time Dana arrived,
he was already engaged in another round of questioning..
 

> ****
 

Little William is gone. I left Scully with her mom, and I've been driving
aimlessly for hours. I don't want to go home just now. I wander into our
basement office at 1:30 am, lost in thought. And I startle John, who is
sitting in darkness.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"S'alright." His voice is sad, and even lower than usual.

"Are you ok?"

To my surprise, he doesn't answer. Not that he'd confess to me that he
*wasn't* ok, unless he needed urgent medical attention. He doesn't pay
enough attention to his own needs. But he would usually *say* he's ok, just
so I don't worry.

And so, I worry.

I reach over to turn the lights on. "Please - don't," his gravelly voice
interrupts me.

I walk toward him, and he lowers his head onto his arms, crossed on his
desktop.

More worried now, I reach his side, lay a hand on his shoulder. It's
shaking, ever so slightly. "John."

He makes no move to raise his head or reply, and I kneel beside his chair.

I reach in, to gently pull him back, so I can see his face. When my hand
touches his chest, he flinches as if I'd struck him. "I'm sorry-"

He shakes his head. "Not your fault." Finally, he leans back in his chair,
his head still lowered. "Just another souvenir from our man Spender."

He allows me to reach in and gently lift the front of his shirt. An angry
bruise stretches across his sternum. Of course, he wasn't planning to tell
Dana or I about it, unless he couldn't hide the pain.

"Oh, John." I probe his ribcage gently, only at the edges of the bruise,
checking for broken ribs, trying not to hurt him more. The muscles in his
stomach tighten as I examine him, but I don't feel anything broken.

"I think you'll live," I try to add a bit of levity - I'm pretty sure I know
what's really going on here.

He raises his head a bit, and I see the smallest of smiles tug at the corner
of his mouth. Just for a moment, then it's gone. I gently tip his chin back,
so I can see his face better.

He looks up at me, saying nothing, finally allowing me to see the unshed
tears in his eyes.

"William will be fine, you know," I offer half-heartedly. "His foster
parents are very loving people. They'll take good care of him."

He shakes his head. "We should have been able to protect William, so Scully
could keep her son. *I* should have been able to keep him safe for her."

"There were very powerful men who wanted him dead. You *know* that."

He nods. "I should have found them, and taken care of them. If I had, then
Mulder could've come home, too."

I soften my voice. "You know it's not that easy."

"I never even tried." His voice is laced with self-reproach.

I turn his face toward mine. "You *did* try. The super-soldiers, Knowle
Rohrer, the UFO cult - you butted heads with all of them."

He says nothing.

I sigh. "You're only one man, John. You can't carry the world on your
shoulders."

"I've noticed." His voice carries bitterness, but I know it's not aimed at
me.

I know this isn't just about William. It's about Luke. William's leaving has
triggered the guilt from John's past. I feel powerless to help him.

This poor man feels the losses of others so keenly, until they pull him back
to the one loss of his own that he can't forget. It's always there, just
below the surface, but hidden so well from the casual viewer.

"Please don't do this to yourself." I'm almost pleading by now.

He looks up at me with sad, pale blue eyes, and a tear runs down his cheek.
I know he can't stop this, any more than I can. I pull his head to my
shoulder, and he lets it fall there, his strength exhausted.

I rub his neck gently, and cradle his head beside my own. Finally, he lets
the tears come. I welcome them - perhaps they can help purge him of his
pain.

His breath rumbles warmly on my neck. After a time, I feel him relax, as he
lets go of some of what he's been carrying with him for so long.

"C'mon," I lift his face to meet mine. "Let's get you home."
 

~fini~
 
 
 

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