TITLE: Choices AUTHOR: coolbyrne RATING: PG+ (some obscenities, "suggestive" scenes) CATEGORY: DSRish SPOILERS: None DISCLAIMER: Yep, it's me, Chris Carter again. Takin' the time to write fan fic. For free. Sheesh. DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, by all means. FEEDBACK: Constructive criticism/compliments gratefully accepted at fugitive@ihateclowns.com. Flames are gleefully mocked in other forums. SUMMARY: An incident at work makes Doggett take a look at his place in the FBI and inevitably, his place with Scully. AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the "serious" side of another piece I wrote, called "The Phone Call." I really wanted to have Doggett take a look at what being on the XF has done to his life, his career. I'm not sure I accomplished that with this fic either, but it was nice to make him a bit rougher around the edges.. even if it WAS the alcohol. (The "Jack" Doggett refers to is Jack Daniels, the manliest whiskey in the world, for the innocent ones who read this fic. *grin*) When I'm down You lift me up When I'm out you reel me in You have come to change my blood Forgive me for my sins Just the other night I saw a haunted man He had a beautiful raincoat I felt a pain of terrific sadness for him Then I realized I was watching myself Six months down the road Save me from the madness Save me from myself Save me from the sadness Of losing someone else Carry me home --"Carry Me" by Robbie Robertson * * * * * He opened the door and his partner came into view. "Dana," he greeted tiredly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" Scully took in the image before her and wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Here was her partner, normally so well presented, now standing in the archway of his front door, looking disheveled and unkempt. He caught her look and brushed a hand through his untamed hair. "Sorry. So what can I do for you?" "I was worried about you when I came in to work today and found you weren't there." "You should have called," he suggested. "Would've saved you the trip out here." "I did call. Three times. There was no answer, which only made me worry more." Doggett's hand slid from his head to his stomach, where it lazily scratched through his cotton shirt. "I must've been sleepin'." Scully's eyebrow raised. "At three in the afternoon?" His disinterested shrug served as an answer. "Can I come in?" she asked. He shrugged again and stepped aside. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness of her surroundings and she took a surreptitious glance around the room. Sure enough, the couch bore evidence to his claim of sleeping. He closed the door behind her and watched as she made her way into the living room. "Me `n' Jack have been renewin' an old acquaintance," he said, catching her look at the bottle on his coffee table. "You've been drinking." A statement rather than a question. Doggett made a half-hearted attempt to straighten up the couch before motioning for her to sit down. "In the comfort and safety of my own home, yeah," he admitted. Leaning back, he discovered something caught between his back and the cushion. He twisted his arm behind him and retrieved the offending item. To Scully's surprise, it appeared to be a plush toy. An alien plush toy. He saw the look on her face. "A birthday gift I got today," he explained, which only seemed to add to her surprise. "You didn't know it was my birthday, did you?" Her expression spoke volumes, and he continued before she could speak. "No, of course you wouldn't, would you?" She could never remember Doggett being caustic, and thus decided to ignore the last bit, brushing it off as the alcohol talking. Attempting to lighten the mood, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Well, I know you're older than 40, so what landmark event is the cause for the solemn mood you're in?" He looked at her levelly, and his voice remained flat and emotionless. "I WAS at work this mornin'. Early. I went upstairs to give Kersh that expense account he's been bustin' my balls about for the last 24 hours. I get into the elevator and a coupla floors later, Mark Bradshaw from Violent Crimes gets on board. I know Mark real well; I used to work with him when I was in that division, back when I was a real agent." Scully's eyes narrowed in confusion. He continued. "Anyway, he says to me, `Dawg! Happy Birthday, buddy.' I was surprised any of the guys from VC would remember. I was flattered, truth be told. Then he says to me, `I'm glad I ran into you. I've got a gift for you.' Well, as unexpected as it was, I go up to the fifth floor with him. I get over to his desk, and he calls everyone out. `Hey, everybody. Look who's here. John Doggett, the birthday boy.' It's right about here where I'm thinkin' somethin's up, but I stand there like the idiot I am anyway." He reached down to pour himself another shot, and motioned to Scully, as if offering her a drink. She shook her head, watching him as he jerked his head back and poured the golden liquid down his throat. His eyes squeezed shut and his mouth pulled back in a grimace as the drink blazed a burning trail to his stomach. Depositing the empty glass on the corner of the table with an authoritative bang, he picked up his story once again. "So with the entire VC unit standin' around, Mark reaches into his desk and pulls this out." Doggett tilted the stuffed toy from side to side. "'Until you catch a real one,' he says to me. Well, that was the best joke they heard all week." Doggett's mouth pressed into a firm line. "I was this close to wipin' that smirk offa his face, but you know what I did instead?" Scully shook her head. "I smiled along and walked away. I did what the ol' man used to tell me. I sucked it up. `Suck it up, boy!" Doggett bellowed in what Scully was sure was an accurate impersonation of his father. "You don't need anyone's approval," she said. He looked at her with an incredulous face. "You don't know me. You don't know anythin' about me. C'mon. You look at me, but you don't see me. You hear me, but you don't listen. You have no idea what I need. And if you did, you never gave me an inkin' that you do. If you did, I wouldn't be houndin' you to trust me. I wouldn't be practically beggin' you to just once look in my direc…" he stopped, the alcohol dulling his thought process, but not stopping it altogether. "Ah, fuck it. Forget it." He tossed the toy towards a nearby wastebasket, but missed. "I bet Mulder would've made that shot." Scully nodded, as if suddenly realizing the root of his conversation, "I see." She made a motion to get up, already having heard enough. "Where do you think I went wrong?" he asked, stopping her departure. "What do you mean?" "I mean, you know when you get to the part where you realized somewhere along the line you fucked up? You replay the history in your head and you try and figure out where it was you went wrong. After this mornin', it's all I've been doin'." His voice was softer now, and welcomed Scully to sit down again. "I mean, I'm a pretty smart guy. I knew comin' into this job, that I was takin' a huge risk, career-wise. I know a lot of people saw me movin' from VC to the x-files as a huge calculation. Either it would make me or break me. But I didn't really care about that. It's never been about my career, it's been about…" She waited for him to formulate the words. ".. it's always been about what's true and what's fair and what's right." He saw the look on her face and snorted, "Yeah, I know. THAT was my first mistake." She shook her head. "Don't ever think standing up for these things is wrong or a mistake." She paused then gave him a small smile. "You're the last of a dying breed, Agent Doggett." The smile that had started to form on his face quickly dropped. "For Christ's sake, it's my birthday. Do you think you could call me `John' for one damn day?" She pursed her lips and complied. "Ok. John." He simply shook his head. "Maybe by my next birthday you'll have had more practice. It sounded like you just learned the word." Silence descended upon them as he seemed to be at the end of his tirade, and she didn't know what else to say. Just as it was about to reach the point of awkwardness, he spoke. "So where do you think you went wrong?" The question startled her and she blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?" She asked, echoing her earlier response to his own question. "I mean," he said, leaning forward, "when you look back on your life in the x-files and all that it's cost you, where do you think you went wrong? Was it acceptin' the position in the first place, or was it somewhere else down the line? Was there a moment that got you, like an epiphany or somethin', where it was clear as day to you, that, `Hey, I really fucked up there'?" She looked at him, but could not quite meet his eyes when she replied, "I don't look at it that way. While I think we're all responsible in our own way for our own paths, some things are just meant to be. Fate sometimes makes the choices for us." "And that's enough for you? To be able to just say, `I guess it wasn't meant to be, `cause Fate or God or whatever didn't want me to have it'?" She gave a small smile. "You know what the Stones said. `You can't always get what you want.'" "And that keeps you warm at night, Agent Scully?" he asked, emphasizing the `agent.' "You know what, John?" she countered, equally emphasizing the "John." She rose and looked down. "I'm going to leave. I'm not sure I enjoy your company when you're like this." And with that, she made her way to the door. "That's right. Walk away. Hope I forget we've had this discussion so you never have to deal with it again. Big fuckin' surprise." She was nearly to the door when she heard the loud crack of a shin meeting the corner of a table, and vocal proof when she heard him curse, "Ow! Fuck!" It was her hesitation to turn to see if he was all right that was her downfall, for that was all the time he needed to hobble to the door. She had her hand on the door knob, but his large left hand coming to rest on the door, no farther than 3 inches from her eye, prevented her from doing anything more. He was close behind her. So close. She could feel his breath in her hair and if she turned her head, she was sure she could count the hairs on his arm. "Let me out," she demanded. When no answer came from him, she quickly turned, and was about to say it again, but the look in his eyes stopped the words in her throat. His gaze locked with hers for what seemed like an eternity. Nervously, Scully licked her lips, and this drew his eyes downward. Summoning every ounce of reserve, she finally choked out, "You wouldn't dare." He leaned his long frame against hers, took the moment to enjoy the contact of their bodies pressed together, and drawled, "Wouldn't I?" "No, you wouldn't," she answered, assured that he was still the gallant, chivalrous man she knew him to be, even with the alcohol in him. He pushed himself back and dropped his hand to his side. "No, you're right, I wouldn't." He took stock of their proximity and felt the heat rush to his loins. She was so close. So close. "How about you, Dana? Would you dare?" "Would I dare what?" "Would you dare choose between a man who runs away from you every single time and a man who's standing right in front of you?" At last, he had said it. It was out in the open. She cast her eyes downward and he gave a short laugh. "That's right. You don't see me." When her eyes looked up once again, he could see the film of tears forming over the beautiful irises he had lost himself in so many times. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, her voice trembling. "C'mon, Dana," he chastised. "Suck it up. Suck it up like I do, every time you come into a room and look right through me." He paused, waiting for her to respond. With nothing forthcoming, he went ahead. "You know, they call you the Ice Queen on the fifth floor. I never really put much stock into that name until I met you." If a slap isn't properly executed, it can inflict as much pain on the issuer as it does to the bearer, and this slap came in so much haste that Scully gave no thought to the execution of it. She winced as the sting went through her palm, but it was the sting of his smirk that hurt her more. He reached up to touch his left cheek, as if to savour the moment. "Wow. I have to admit I didn't see that one comin'. I think that's the first time I've seen an emotion outta you that wasn't aloof or tears." Her mouth met his with such a collision that he could taste the warm metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. Blood from his lip that had suddenly been pressed back into his teeth. Her tongue pushed past his teeth with force and determination, as if daring him to deny her. He didn't. He bent forward slightly and returned her impulse with equal fervor. He reached around and pulled her into him, trapping her body between his gripping hands and his hard frame. Her hands were around his shoulders, at the base of his neck, up into his hair, bringing his mouth closer still, as if she wanted to crawl up inside him. And as quickly as it began, it ended. Needing to come up for air, she relinquished her hold on him and pulled back. He relaxed his hands, leaving them to rest on her waist. Giving his heart rate time to return to normal, he took in her appearance; hair slightly disheveled, lips slightly bruised and red, cheeks tinged with crimson. As he watched her draw in a ragged breath, he did the same and asked, "So. Was that a choice of Fate or your own?" She looked at his mouth, the mouth she had consumed only moments ago, and had to admit it was an honest question. An honest answer would require her to doubt the former and fear the latter. Rather than admit these things aloud, she simply answered, "I don't know." He nodded and said nothing. Instead, he reached past her and tugged the door open. Looking at her, then tilting his head towards the door, he said, "It's all about choices, isn't it?" She could barely manage a whispered, "Yeah." The moment stretched out in front of them. He was more than willing to stand there with her for eternity, watching her struggle with herself. He was never one for glacial movements, but he'd be damned if he were going to make this any easier for her. No easier than she had made the last 18 months on him. Finally, when eternity seemed like a fair estimate, she glanced up from his chest and said with a firmness that surprised herself, "I think I'd like that drink now." He held her gaze, checking for hesitancy, a change of heart. When he saw none, he stepped back, allowing her to make her way back into the living room. He shut the door closed and followed her in. -end