By Horatio
horatio1013@aol.com
 

http://www.geocities.com/horatio_fic/
Category: V,A,Post-ep, MSR, M/S/D friendship
Spoilers: Post-ep for The Truth
Summary: Doggett makes one last stop before leaving New Mexico.
Rating: PG
Archive: XFMU; anything else, just let me know so I can
visit.
Disclaimer: Characters from the X-Files are the property of
Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Television Network. No
infringement is intended, and no money is being made from
this endeavor.

Thanks to Meridy for her excellent suggestions, and to
Amanda for just being there, as always.
 

********

"Did ever a woman have two such men?"
- Marian Starrett in "Shane," by Jack Schaefer

********
 

Two Such Men
by Horatio
 

John Doggett stepped out of the office of the Cactus Court Motel
into the gray New Mexico dawn. High above his head a few stars
winked valiantly in the departing darkness. He surveyed the rooms
to his right. In front of room 7 was a black Ford Excursion.

Bingo.

The motel owner, a balding East Indian man, had been wide-eyed as
he stared at the F.B.I. badge of Special Agent John Doggett.
Nervous as he examined the xeroxed photograph Doggett placed on
the counter. Yes, Mr. Patel said, this man had checked in last
night. In room 7. With a woman? Yes.

Then the questions had come. He is a criminal, this man? Right
here in my motel? Is he dangerous? And finally, when Patel
noticed the gun on Doggett's hip: Will there be shooting?

Doggett snorted lightly as he stood looking toward room 7. "Shoo-
ting," the man had pronounced it. No, he had assured Mr. Patel,
there would be no shoo-ting. No violence in his motel. The
suspect would go quietly.

Doggett inhaled deeply and let it out. The desert air was chilly
this early. Too early to be rousting people out of bed. He
twisted his neck and flexed his shoulders. But having come this
far. . .

He headed toward room 7.
 

********
 

Doggett rapped his knuckles softly on the door. Silence. He
looked over his left shoulder to the eastern horizon, where pink
tendrils were beginning to color the clouds. Off to his right
rose a pair of golden arches. Motels, some with their "No
Vacancy" signs still illuminated, made up the rest of the scenery
on this part of route 70.

"Roswell," he murmured. "Of all the fucking places."

He knocked gently again. This time the curtains on the window
next to the door twitched. Then there was the sound of the bolt
lock being turned slowly and quietly. The door opened a few
inches, and through the space a pair of hazel eyes peered at
Doggett.

"What are you doing here?" Mulder whispered in surprise. His face
had that slack, not-quite-awake look, but behind the sleepy gaze
was a tense wariness.

Doggett could see beyond him into the room, where a person was
curled under the sheet of the lone bed. A white shoulder and arm
lay outside the covers, red hair splayed against the pillow. On
the other side of the bed the sheet had been thrown back, and the
pale arm stretched across the now empty space. Doggett's gut
tightened.

"Sorry to disturb you, Agent Mulder," he said, keeping his voice
low. "But you and Agent Scully need to get out of here."

Mulder had noticed the flick of Doggett's glance, and shifted
slightly so his body blocked the view into the room. Casting a
suspicious look up and down the motel parking lot, he said, "Are
you alone?"

"Of course I am," Doggett answered impatiently.

Mulder stepped out onto the walkway, closing the door behind him
but not latching it. He was shirtless and barefoot, his jeans
having been hastily pulled on, the top button still unfastened.
He held a gun, barrel down, alongside his thigh. "How did you
find us?"

"I'm a trained investigator, remember. Your trail wasn't hard to
follow."

Mulder blanched. He reached across his chest and gripped his
other arm, hugging himself against the chill.

"If I can find you," Doggett said with urgency, "others can, too.
You've got to get out of here, Agent Mulder. Disappear. Maybe
leave the country. Agent Reyes knows people in Mexico you could
stay with."

Mulder was quiet as he considered this. Behind him the door
opened.

"Mulder?"

Scully stood in the doorway, a thin white robe gathered around
her body. The sun chose that moment to peek over the horizon,
tinting Scully's skin golden and turning her hair to flame.

She pulled her robe more tightly closed upon seeing their
visitor. "Agent Doggett," she said with soft surprise.

"Agent Scully."

"What's going on?" she asked him. "What are you doing here?"

Mulder answered her question. "Agent Doggett has come to let me
know I've been sloppy."

"Now, wait--" Doggett began to object.

"No, it's true. I've been asleep at the wheel." Mulder turned to
Scully. "We're too easy to find. We need to get out of here."

Scully looked up and down the motel court with the same wariness
Mulder had exhibited. "Let's talk inside."

Closing the door behind them, Scully said, "You can put the gun
away, Mulder."

Mulder looked at the gun as though he had forgotten it was in his
hand. He placed it on the table.

Scully gave Doggett a smile. "I'm glad you made it out okay. We
were wondering."

"Monica and I wondered the same about you two."

"Where is Agent Reyes?" asked Scully.

"I dropped her at Albuquerque airport," he said. "She's on her
way back to D.C., which is where I'm headed as soon as I leave
here."

"And you're here because. . .?" Scully said.

Doggett felt his neck grow warm. Now that he was here, he
regretted his intrusion into this intimate space, the early hour,
the disruption of their privacy. He cleared his throat slightly.
"I wanted to see if I could pick up your trail, make sure you
guys were all right. And now à- now I want both of you to get the
hell out of here before anyone else finds you."

Scully took a step closer to Mulder, who was observing Doggett
thoughtfully. "Mulder," she said, "I thought we'd be presumed
dead."

"I'm pretty sure they think they killed us, Scully."

Doggett gave a shake of his head. "You can't count on it. If they
look for your remains in those ruins and don't find them--"

"They could sniff us out as easily as you did," finished Mulder.

Scully said tightly, "We have to get out of here."

Mulder picked up a T-shirt from the floor and drew it on. "I
think we've established that." He jammed his feet into his
sneakers. "We should pack. And we'll need to lose the car, get
another. But first--" He looked at Doggett. "Have you eaten
recently, Agent Doggett?"

Taken aback, Doggett answered in the negative.

Mulder moved toward the door. "I'm going to get us some food."

"Agent Mulder, you don't have to--"

But Mulder was already at the door. "Breakfast is the most
important meal of a fugitive's day," he said. And with a grin, he
was gone.
 

********
 

Scully let out a sigh as the door closed. Doggett opened his
mouth to speak, shut it again. He looked around the room. At a
man's dark blue shirt tossed on the floor. At the rumpled bed. At
the night stand, on which lay a map of New Mexico, a pair of
reading glasses, and a condom wrapper.

He quickly looked away.

Scully tightened the belt of her robe. "John--" she began, but
Doggett interrupted her.

"I needed to know you were all right," he blurted out in a gruff
voice. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor.
"Now that I know, I'll go."

"Please don't go yet," she said, touching his sleeve. "I was
worried about you, too."

"I was gonna leave with Monica, but I couldn't go back to D.C.
not knowing."

Scully smiled at him. "So that business about tracking us down to
warn us. . .?"

He gave her a sheepish look. "Well," he said, "you *were* too
easy to find. Someone had to kick you outta here."

She huffed lightly. "I'm glad you came. I'm glad to see you after
what happened at the ruins."

Doggett looked around the small, slightly shabby room. Was this
the life she would be living from now on? He felt a tightening in
his chest. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked her.

"Yes," Scully said. "I'll be all right."

"Good," he said. "Good." But he didn't feel good. "Do you know
what you'll do now?" he asked.

Scully stooped to pick up the shirt from the floor. She held it
in her hands almost tenderly, then laid it on the bed. "Not
exactly. I don't know what shape our lives will have." She looked
solemn. "It will be hard. There are things. . ." She trailed off.

"Things?"

"Things you don't know. Terrible things."

Doggett felt suddenly cold. "Can you tell me?"

"No."

He felt annoyance prick at him. "You still don't trust me?"

"Of course I do!" Her eyes blazed. "It's just à- I don't want
you to be compromised. Not yet. We still need to sort things
out."

The prickliness inside him subsided. He had never been able to be
angry at her for long.

Scully's brows drew together in concern. "I hope you haven't
jeopardized your career because of us."

"Nah, I don't think so," he said, and began to recite, "Agent
Reyes and I pursued a fugitive and his accomplice to a remote New
Mexico location, where we found only a smoldering rubble. The
suspects are presumed dead."

Scully gave him a faint smile. Doggett ran his hand through his
hair. "But after everything that's happened," he said, "after
what they did to Mulder. . . well, I'm thinkin' of resigning,
Dana."

Scully looked distressed. "Oh, John. No. Please don't give up."

"I dunno," he said. "They're all a bunch of lying, murdering
sons-a-bitches." His jaw tightened as the rage began to surge
again. Everything he had believed in, everything he had worked
for. . .

Scully cast her eyes down as though unable to dispute his
assertion.

Doggett sucked in his anger and shifted restlessly on his feet.
His eyes darted to the bed and away again. What the hell had he
been thinking, coming here? "I should go," he said. "Let you
pack."

"Whoa!" Scully grabbed his arm as he turned away. Her small
fingers were insistent around his biceps. "You look exhausted.
You've been driving all night, haven't you?"

Doggett didn't answer. Scully's hand slid down his arm to his
hand, squeezing it lightly. "Stay and eat something before you
go," she urged him.

He held her hand for a moment, enjoying the warmth. Her blue eyes
were luminous in her lightly sunburned face. Her breasts rose and
fell under the thin robe.

The room felt suddenly too small.

Doggett released her hand. "All right. But I'll need to wash up."

In the bathroom he leaned wearily on the counter. Next to the
sink lay lipstick and mascara, a man's razor, and a hairbrush
tangled with strands of red hair. Doggett closed his eyes for a
moment.

The cold water felt good on his face.
 

********
 

When Doggett emerged from the bathroom, Mulder was pulling food
out of bags. Scully had found an orange juice and was poking a
straw through the lid.

Doggett dug a slip of paper out of the pocket of his jeans and
handed it to Mulder. "Here are the names Monica gave me. She says
she trusts these people with her life." He explained to Scully
about Monica's contacts.

"Maybe we should consider this, Mulder," Scully said to her
partner.

Mulder nodded as he took the paper. "I agree." To Doggett he
said, "We've had some other ideas, too." He stopped. "I don't
think I should say more. The less you know, Agent Doggett, the
better it will be for you."

Doggett frowned, but nodded his agreement. Even knowing Mulder
and Scully were alive could be dangerous knowledge.

"Sit here, Scully," Mulder said, gesturing to one of the two
chairs.

"That's okay," Scully said, giving his arm a squeeze. "I'm going
to take a shower in a second."

The men sat. "Whatever you guys decide," Doggett said, "if you
need any money. . ."

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Mulder made arrangements
last year," Scully said. "We're fine on that end. But thank you,
Agent Doggett."

He looked up at her and returned her smile.

Mulder sat watching them as he unwrapped his sandwich. "Sure you
don't want to eat, Scully?"

"I will after my shower," Scully said. "Don't leave before I'm
done," she told Doggett as she headed for the bathroom.

Doggett watched her go, then began to eat hungrily. "You're a man
after my own heart, Agent Mulder," he said.

Mulder gave him an odd look.

Doggett held up the sandwich. "Sausage McMuffin."

The other man's expression shifted, as though he had expected
Doggett to say something else, and he chuckled. "I didn't think
you'd want yogurt."

"You got that right."

From the bathroom came the sound of the shower and the curtain
sliding across the rod. As if the sounds were a cue, Mulder put
down his sandwich and looked across the table at Doggett. "I
don't know how this will be for Scully," he said, his voice
barely more than a murmur. "Living like this -à on the run,
hiding. Cut off from her family. She's already lost so much."

Doggett blinked. Scully had never been a topic of conversation
between them, a discretion for which Doggett had been grateful.
Now he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I think Agent Scully
is right where she wants to be," he said quietly.

Mulder considered this in silence. Hoping this had put an end to
further confidences, Doggett bent to his meal. But presently he
became aware that the other man was studying him. Doggett looked
up, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.

"If they learn I'm alive," Mulder said, "they'll try to kill me
again." He spoke matter-of-factly, and Doggett's stomach
contracted a little. Even so, talk of death he could handle.

"You're a smart man," Doggett said. "You stayed out of harm's way
most of last year. You and Agent Scully can disappear so they
won't find you."

"Possibly. But I want you to know that if anything happens to me.
. ." Mulder hesitated.

Doggett waited, watching the other man intently. He wasn't sure
where this was going, but some instinct told him he wouldn't like
it. "Nothin's gonna happen to you, Agent Mulder." He spoke the
words with a conviction he hoped would make them true.

"It's just Mulder now," the man said wryly. He drank some of his
coffee, then put down his cup and was quiet for some time. "But
if it does," he resumed, and Doggett felt his skin prick again,
"it's reassuring to know you'll be around to watch over her."

Doggett stopped in mid-bite, stunned into immobility. He couldn't
look at the other man's eyes. Afraid of what he might see there.
Swallowing with difficulty, he said, "Agent Scully does a pretty
good job of takin' care of herself."

"Yes, she does. But that's not what I meant."

The air became very still in the room. Doggett heard the water
continuing to run in the shower. Outside a car door slammed and
an engine roared to life.

"Someone who cares," Mulder said after a moment.

Keeping his face blank, Doggett laid his sandwich carefully on
the paper wrapper. He took up a napkin and wiped his mouth. He
thought about objecting to Mulder's implication, of denying it.
But he knew it would be an insult to the other man's
intelligence. A man who had spent his life searching for the
truth knew it when he saw it.

Doggett's mouth was as dry as the desert outside the window. He
stood suddenly. Pulling aside the curtain, he squinted at the
brightness. "It's gonna be hot as hell today," he said. Outside,
two more cars pulled out of the motel parking lot and continued
on their summer vacations. Happy people with happy lives.

Behind him paper rustled. Doggett realized with a start that the
shower had been silent for several minutes. He felt Mulder's eyes
boring into his back. He blew out air, turned around. . . and the
tightness inside him uncoiled. The eyes gazing back at him held
nothing of what he'd expected: resentment, jealousy,
possessiveness. Instead, he read in the other man's expression
only understanding. Calm acknowledgment of an elemental fact.

Mulder leaned back and, with a flick of his wrist, pitched the
wadded wrapper into the wastebasket. Then he returned his gaze to
the man standing by the window.

With his ear tuned to the quiet behind the bathroom door, Doggett
said in a low voice, "Let's hope it never comes to that."

Mulder's eyes never left his. He looked expectant.

Doggett rifled through his mind for the words the other man
seemed to want to hear. He added, "But if it does, I'll be there
for whatever she needs."

Something in Mulder's face relaxed, and his shoulders rose up and
down in a silent exhalation. He gave Doggett an almost
imperceptible nod.

Then the door to the bathroom opened.

The two men watched raptly as Scully strode into the room,
dressed in dark slacks and green shirt and tugging a comb through
her wet hair. She halted partway into the room, her arm freezing
in mid-air, looking from one pair of eyes to the other. Then she
resumed her motion and crossed to the table.

She rooted around in a paper bag and pulled out her yogurt. A
blush had darkened her cheeks, and a smile tugged at the corners
of her mouth. "What are you two starin' at?" she said softly.

Neither man answered.

 
********
 

At Doggett's car, Mulder put out his hand. "Good luck, Agent
Doggett."

Doggett shook his hand with warmth. "You, too. And Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself."

Mulder nodded his understanding. "I'll do my best." He began to
back away. "Sorry to rush off, but I'm going to pack and shower.
I'll let you finish the good-byes, Scully."

Scully watched quizzically as he jogged back to the motel room.
Then her jaw slackened as she realized that, for the second time
that morning, he was deliberately giving them a moment alone. And
realized why. And what he knew.

Doggett watched her absorb this knowledge in the space of a few
seconds. The parted lips, the brow furrowed in thought, the
little huff of surprise. Then she breathed in and out deeply,
recovered her poise, and turned back to Doggett. Her eyes seemed
brighter than before.

"You're going home now?" she said, her words tinged with
wistfulness.

"Yeah. I'll catch a plane in Lubbock." He looked over his
shoulder at the signs and arches, and beyond them to the great
empty places into which she would soon disappear. He had to ask
one more time. "You'll be all right?"

She seemed to understand his unspoken fear, and gave him a warm
smile. "I'm all right, John. Really."

And Doggett could see it was the truth. There was an assurance
and serenity about her that was new and unfamiliar. After all the
horrors of the past year, plus the nightmare they'd just endured,
she stood before him radiating purpose and strength. He wondered
what hidden spring she'd tapped into. Whatever it was, he felt
some of it seeping into him.

For a brief moment her purposefulness was muted as her eyes took
on a dreamy cast. "I wish--" Scully said, and stopped.

Doggett bent his head closer to hers and asked in his deep
rumble, "What do you wish?"

She looked like she wished so many things, there weren't words
enough. Then she pulled herself back, and her eyes refocused. "I
wish you'd reconsider resigning."

"I already have."

That elicited another smile from her. Doggett glanced over at the
room into which Mulder had disappeared, then met Scully's gaze
again. "Tell me what I can do to help."

Scully was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes raked his face like
lasers, as if she were trying to commit every detail to memory.
"Just be you, John," she said.

The warmth of her look made Doggett feel light-headed. The only
reply he could summon was a grunt.

Somewhere on the highway a truck horn bellowed mournfully.
Doggett let out a breath, brushed his knuckle against Scully's
cheek, and climbed into his car.

Inclining his head toward the motel, he said, "Take care of him,
Dana."

Once again Scully's face registered surprise. Then her eyes grew
softer still. "I will," she whispered.

He didn't say good-bye.

As he drove away, Doggett saw in his rearview mirror the door of
room 7 open and Mulder step out to meet Scully. They seemed to
share a silent communication. Then she wrapped her arms around
him with a kind of desperation, and he pressed his lips to her
hair.

Pulling his eyes from the mirror, Doggett saw Mr. Patel standing
in front of the office. He stopped the car and leaned out the
window. "What'd I tell ya, Mr. Patel? No shooting."

The man had evidently witnessed the encounters of the past few
minutes, for he no longer looked nervous. He nodded sagely and
said, "No criminals either, I think."

Doggett gave a wry chuckle.

Patel looked down the line of rooms to number 7, the door of
which was now closed. He smiled sadly. "I hope you found what you
were looking for, Mr. F.B.I."

Doggett didn't respond for a moment. He looked out the
windshield. "I found a lot more than that, Mr. Patel."

He turned onto the street and, lowering his visor against the
blaze of light, drove out of the town, out where the road was
straight to the horizon.
 

End
 
 
 
 
 

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