TITLE: Connections
DATE: Oct. 2002
AUTHOR: coolbyrne
RATING: PG, perhaps an adult word or two
CLASSIFICATION: Cross-over with L&O, DSR, AU(?)
SPOILERS: None that I’m aware.
DISCLAIMER: Now that my show is over, I, Chris Carter, have decided 
to help continue the legacy of my creation by writing fan fic.  (Yeah.  
Whatever.)
DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, then take it.  An email would be nice, 
though.
SUMMARY: Scully spends some time in NY and discovers another side 
of Doggett... and herself.
FEEDBACK: Comments and constructive criticism greatly appreciated.  
Flames will be mocked in other forums.  fugitive@ihateclowns.com
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I highly recommend that you read “Changes” first.  
Not because I think it’s all that hot sh!t (*grin*), but because you’re not 
going to understand half of what the heck is going on here without it.  
And my thanks to Lisa K, sounding board/consoling shoulder/gentle 
grammar nitpicker all in one.


Hold on/
Don’t be scared/
You’ll never change what’s been and gone/
May your smile shine on/
Don’t be scared.

“Stop Crying Your Heart Out”- Oasis


**  ***  **

If she hadn’t been concentrating so hard on not becoming the perpetrator 
of a messy case of road rage, Scully might have appreciated the 
metaphor.  She had left her home earlier that morning and had enjoyed 
the drive to New York- the window down, the open road, the freedom of 
it all.  Now, there she was, in the heart of mid-town traffic at lunch hour, 
in a city that she was yet to really determine what she was doing in.  

‘Yes,’ she thought to herself, ‘I’m here because John asked me.  But 
*what* am I doing here?  Why did I agree to this?  A weekend in New 
York with my partner.  Am I insane?’

The traffic moved slowly, starting and stopping in the glacial jerking 
movement of too many vehicles jammed into too small of a space.  
Refraining from leaning on the horn, Scully sat back and took a deep 
breath.

‘I *will* enjoy myself,’ she whispered sternly.  Hearing the falter in her 
voice, she repeated, ‘I *will* enjoy myself.  Really.’

*

“My name’s Dana Scully,” she said as she stood at the reception desk.  
“Can you tell me if Room 27 is in?”

The dark-haired clerk, whose nametag read ‘Tony’, checked the wall of 
keys and slots.  “Oh, Mr. Doggett,” Tony remarked as he placed the 
name to the room. He turned back to Scully and said, “No, he’s not here.  
I saw him go out for coffee about 15 minutes ago.  He said he’d be right 
back.”  Flipping through the registry, he added, “Mr. Doggett did book 
you a room, though.  I can get you straightened up here if you wanted to 
go put your things away before he comes back.”

Scully thought about the suggestion and figured it was a good one.  After 
her crawl through mid-town traffic a five-minute moment to recharge 
before seeing Doggett would suit her just fine.

She signed the check-in form, took the key, and had just made it to the 
elevator when the clerk called out, “Miss Scully!”  When she turned to 
the address, he tilted his chin towards the front door.  “I see him coming 
up the steps.”

Sure enough, she could see him through the huge glass doors, taking the 
steps two at a time, precariously balancing a Styrofoam cup in one hand 
and holding a paper in the other.  Reaching the top, he slid the paper 
under his opposite arm and opened the door.  Oblivious to Scully’s silent 
presence at the elevators, Doggett walked up to the desk.

Tony handed him the key to room 27 and whispered, “Your guest has 
arrived,” then gave a small jerk of his head and an arch of his eyebrows 
in the direction of the elevators.

Doggett spun around and upon seeing her, he gave what Scully could 
only describe as the broadest grin she had ever seen.

“Thanks, Tony,” he said, before making his way towards her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” she smiled back.

“I wasn’t expectin’ you ‘til later.”  He gestured to the coffee and paper.  
“I thought I’d keep myself occupied ‘til you showed up.”

Scully shrugged.  “I wasn’t going to leave until after lunch, but I got up 
early, so I figured why not?”

She was rewarded with that grin again.  “I’m glad you came.”  He let the 
moment linger between them before continuing, “Anyway, why don’t we 
get you settled in and decide where to go from there?”

Scully nodded her agreement and reached down for her suitcase, a 
fraction slower than Doggett’s reflexive response.  Instead of curling her 
fingers around the hard handle of her baggage, she felt the warmth of his 
hand in her grasp.  She laughed at the image they must’ve made, the two 
of them frozen in a half-bent position, hands locked on the handle of the 
suitcase.  She looked up into his eyes and caught his look of 
bemusement.

While she knew there were other battles of will she could win, this 
wasn’t one of them.  In matters of chivalry, he would hold out until she 
relented, however reluctantly.  It was just who he was.

Conceding the point, she stood straight.  “Can I at least press the elevator 
button?” she asked innocently.  

Echoing her tone, he lifted the coffee cup and the suitcase and replied, 
“Well, I *am* all outta hands now.”  

The glower he received couldn’t diminish his smirk.

*

“I couldn’t get anythin’ close to my room,” he apologized as the elevator 
dropped them off on the second floor.  “I got ya somethin’ on the same 
floor, though.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, “that just means I won’t be subjected to your 
snoring through the wall.”

She glanced over to see his reaction.  To her surprise, rather than 
objecting or denying, he simply remarked, “I don’t know how you can 
hear me snorin’ above all that talkin’ you do in your sleep.”

Scully laughed at this, but instead of joining her, Doggett’s composure 
remained absolutely straight.  Her smile faded.  “Sure.  Whatever.”  
When his face stayed the same, her smile dropped.  “You’re kidding, 
right?”

Doggett shrugged.  “Sure.  Whatever.”

“No, really now…”

“.. and here we are,” he interrupted.  “Your room.”

Her eyes narrowed at him as she put her key in the lock while still trying 
to gauge the validity of his previous comment.  When the door swung 
open, he gestured for her to go in, and followed.

Placing the suitcase on the bed, he said, “Why don’t you take your time 
and get settled and come on down to my room when you’re ready?  
We’ll hash out some ideas for lunch.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed.  “I won’t be more than ten minutes.”

He held up his free hand.  “Take your time.  No rush.  I got a newspaper 
to read anyway.”

She smiled back.  “Okay.”

*

He had left the door slightly open, but she gave a gentle rap anyway.  
Hearing no reply, she cautiously walked in.

From where she stood, the bed was situated perpendicular to the door, 
and lying across the bed’s width rather than its length was the form of 
her partner, Agent Doggett.  She had to think of him by this title, fearing 
that thinking of him in an informal manner would only encourage the 
improper thoughts already forming in her mind.

She had a great view of him from the feet first, and though she had taken 
the time to let her eyes wander over all six feet of him, her eyes returned 
and lingered on a particular place.  It was of monumental top-secret 
importance, she told herself, to notice how the outline of his wallet had 
worn a special spot in the left back pocket of his jeans.

‘God,’ she thought, remembering Doggett’s earlier jab.  ‘Please don’t let 
me talk in my sleep.’

Bringing her thoughts back to a more acceptable Scully level, she asked 
out loud, “What are you doing?”

He jumped so high it left him sprawling on the bed.  Rolling over and 
putting his hand on his chest, he choked out, “Nothin’, now that I’m 
finished havin’ a heart attack.”  He opened his eyes to see her smile.  
Propping himself up on one elbow, he continued, “Actually, I was 
readin’ the paper.”

Scully’s eyes glanced around, looking for the aforementioned paper.  
Seeing nothing, she slowly walked around the end of the bed and saw it 
lying on the floor.  She looked at him with a somewhat puzzled 
expression.  “That’s an unusual way to read the paper.”

He swung his feet around and sat at the end of the bed, facing her.  “I’ve 
been meanin’ to go in for an eye exam.  I think I need readin’ glasses,” 
he ruefully admitted.  His head jerked up at the sound of her shock.


Her hand covered her mouth before she spoke.  “And all this time I 
thought you were Superman.”

“Ha ha,” he mocked.  Reaching up, he grabbed a lock of his hair and 
twisted it around his finger.  When he released it, rather than fall into a 
curl, it jutted out from his hairline.  He looked up at it, eyes crossing.  
With an exaggerated sigh, he made a second admission.  “No, I guess 
I’m not.”

This time she didn’t bother to cover her smile, but laughed out loud.

Satisfied at the result, he stood up and walked around to pick up the 
paper.  Folding it neatly, he tossed it on a nearby table.  As if something 
had just occurred to him, he faced her and gave her his most serious look.

“What is it?” she asked.

He scratched a spot behind his ear as if contemplating the thought.  
Finally, he said, “This thing about my vision… I don’t want you to think 
it’ll prevent me from watchin’ your back.”  He paused to make sure he 
had her full attention.  “It’s just that, for a little while, I might have to go 
the Braille route.”

Her brows pushed down in puzzlement, as she waited for her synapses to 
make all their connections.  When they formed the image of him and 
what his “Braille route” would entail, her brows lifted up in surprise.   
She wasn’t sure if it was due to the shock of his bold humour, or shock at 
herself for entertaining the thought of his long lean fingers on her.  She 
could only guess how big her eyes must’ve looked.

Never once breaking eye contact with her, Doggett smirked, “ 
‘Anticipate, Adapt, and Improvise’ is the Marine motto, Agent Scully.”

Scully looked down to steal a glimpse of his hands.  She considered it a 
small victory that she didn’t swallow her tongue.

Misreading her response, he shoved his hands into his pockets and 
apologized.  “Sorry.”

Then she laughed.  A small ripple on a pond that slowly rolled into a full-
out, genuine crescendo of a laugh.  “No, no…” she choked out between 
breaths.  She put her hand on his arm, in part to reassure him, in part to 
steady herself.  “No,” she repeated, “wow.”  She covered her mouth in 
order to regain some control.  When she could complete a sentence with 
one breath, she continued, “All this time I thought the Marine motto was 
‘Semper Fi.’”  When she saw that this put him at ease, she continued 
more seriously, “Don’t apologize.  I wasn’t offended.”

“Just surprised,” he said.

She nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s a pretty dry humour you’ve got there, Agent 
Doggett.  I’m surprised you don’t spontaneously combust.”  Her mouth 
twitched.  “First I find out you’re not Superman, and now this.  Where 
have you been hiding this sense of humour?”


He grinned.  “Oh, I dunno.  I’m sure I’ve had it all this time.  You just 
never noticed, s’all.”

She looked up into his glittering blue gems.  “Then that’s definitely an 
oversight on my part,” she apologized.  When he simply shrugged away 
her act of contrition, she added, “But if this revelation is any indication, 
the rest of the weekend could be very interesting.”

Now it was his turn to laugh.  “Ya never know.  Ya just never know.”

*

“C’mon.  Try it.”

“No way,” she said.

“Once you have it, you’ll love it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Please…” he pleaded.

“There’s no way I’m putting that in my mouth.”

The vendor laughed.  “I hope ya don’t mind me buttin’ in here, but I 
gotta tell ya, I’ve never heard a conversation about a hotdog sound so 
suggestive.”

Doggett’s mouth stopped mid-sentence and Scully burst out laughing.

“I’m just sayin’,” the vendor added.

Closing his mouth and narrowing his eyes, Doggett avoided the comment 
and said, “I’ll take two of those with everythin’.”  Before she could say a 
word, he explained, “I can easily eat two if you find it that unbearable.”  
He waited for her to make a face before continuing, “You want 
somethin’ to drink?”  She shook her head.  Turning to the vendor, he 
added, “And I guess just one Coke.”

They collected their order and made their way down a nearby path.  As it 
seemed Doggett had an idea where they were going, Scully was happy 
enough to follow his slight lead.  Lulled by the nature surrounding her 
down the narrow path, she was almost startled to find herself suddenly 
amidst human life again.  A cluster of activity spread out at the end of the 
path.  Skateboarders.  Rollerbladers.  People tossing a frisbee.  Music.

Doggett turned to her and tilted his head at her expression of amazement.

She looked up at him, explaining, “I had almost forgotten where we 
were; that we weren’t alone.”

He smiled and nodded.  “That’s The Park, for sure.”  He motioned to a 
nearby high point.  “Let’s go sit up there, watch the bladers show off.”  
He ascended the grassy peak first, and when he reached down to help 
her, she took his hand without pause.

“I shoulda brought somethin’ to sit on, a blanket or a jacket or 
somethin’.”

“It’s ok,” she said, as she settled onto the grass.  “This is great.”

“Good,” he replied with a smile, and settled down near her.  He put the 
Coke down beside him and handed her a hotdog.  “Here ya go.”

She looked down at it, then up at him and back down again.  Dissecting 
it with her eyes, she grimaced.  “Do I have to?”

His hand lowered slightly and he answered softly, “No, of course not.  
You don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna do.”

Scully looked back up into his eyes.  Blue.  Bluest eyes she had ever 
seen.  She reached down and took the hotdog out of his hand.  Giving it 
another suspicious examination, her mouth twitched and she asked 
doubtfully, “Is there anything of redeemable nutritional value in this?”

Doggett tilted his head as if seriously pondering the question.  “Well, I’m 
sure the bread’s real.”

She caught his smirk and gave one of her own.  “All right, smart guy.”  
Summoning her inner strength, she lifted the hotdog to her lips… then 
stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Doggett asked.

“I can’t eat with you leaning in watching me.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh.  “Fine, fine,” and leaned back on his hands, 
his legs stretched out, his own meal placed carefully on his legs as if it 
couldn’t be eaten until she had tried her own.  In this position, he was 
slightly behind her, but not entirely obstructed.

“I can tell you’re still looking at me,” she chastised.

Guilty as charged, he gave a large laugh, and then made a point of 
showing her he was turning his back.  “There.  Happy?”

“No peeking,” she warned, before taking her first precarious bite.

Minutes went by and neither said a word.  Not being able to curb his 
curiosity any longer, Doggett turned and asked, “You okay?  Did ya get 
bested by a hotdog?  You need your stomach pumped?”

Scully slowly turned around and revealed a face smeared with 
condiments.  In her hand was a half-eaten hotdog.  She closed her eyes in 
bliss and mumbled, “This is wonderful.”

Doggett’s shoulders shook with laughter and it spread throughout his 
body until he finally had to roll over onto the grass.

Scully slapped his leg.  “Stop laughing at me.”  This, of course, only 
made him laugh more.  She slapped him again.  “Stop it.”

He propped himself on one elbow and wiped a tear away from the corner 
of his eye.  She tried giving him her best stern look, but her smile kept 
betraying her.  He reached into his pocket and handed her some napkins.

“Look what you did,” she pointed out, as she wiped her mouth.  “In your 
desire to get a laugh at my expense, you dropped your hotdog on the 
ground.”

Doggett picked it up, and without hesitation, he said, “Sprinkles,” and 
took a huge bite from the end.  Seeing Scully’s look of horror, he put 
everything in his cheek and spoke around it.  “What?  The grass is 
probably the only natural thing about it.”

*

After finishing off their impromptu lunch, they had both settled into a 
comfortable quiet.  He had returned to his earlier position; his hands 
finding a home in the grass behind him, his legs stretched out ahead.  
Scully had taken a more enclosed position; her legs drawn close to her 
body, her arms wrapped loosely around them, her chin resting on her 
knees.  They had been satisfied enough to let the moments pass in 
silence, with the occasional, “Ouch,” from Doggett whenever an 
overeager blader made a spectacular wipeout.  The moment lingered 
contentedly between them.  Or so he thought.

She turned to him, her head still resting on her knees.  Brushing aside the 
hair that had fallen across her face, she quietly apologized, “I’m sorry.  
I’m not good at this.”

Doggett didn’t have to speak; the furrow of his brows spoke his question.

She leaned back and mirrored his posture in order to be able to see his 
face without turning back.  “This,” she repeated.  In an attempt to make it 
clearer, she amended, “Normality.”

His expression remained a puzzled one, but this time he spoke.  “I’m not 
sure what you’re talkin’ about, but I didn’t think anythin’ was wrong.  
I’m okay with this.”

She let her head fall back and she let out a long sigh.  “Talk to me about 
aliens and abductions and the paranormal, and I can carry my end.  God, 
after eight years of it, how could I not?”  Scully looked at him.  “I envy 
you, you know?  So at ease with yourself and the world around you.”  
Now she looked ahead into the distance.  “The world around me has 
gotten smaller and smaller as the years have gone by so that the only 
place left with room is inward.  I’ve forgotten moments like this; sitting 
in the park, spending time with a friend, just happy to let time pass me 
by.”

Doggett bent his legs and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees.  
Looking at his interlocking fingers, he softly asked, “And are you 
happy?”

Her mouth twitched and a smile slowly formed.  She surprised herself.  
“Yeah.  Yeah, I am.”

His large hand found the back of her neck and he gave a comforting 
squeeze.  “Then that’s all that matters.”

She faced him, allowing him the full effect of her smile.  He returned it 
with a wink, dropping his hand down her back before reaching across his 
body to grab the can of Coke.  She watched as he tilted his head back, his 
Adam’s apple rising and lowering as the drink flowed down his throat.  
His eyes were closed in momentary respite, preventing her from a look at 
his electric blues, but also giving her a chance to take him all in.  All 
jagged edges, and yet, at his core, she knew there was softness.  
Charming.  Disarming.  Intent.  Intense.  She knew all these things, yet 
for the first time, it was as if she actually felt them.  He had never hid 
himself from her, but it seemed only now that she accepted him beyond 
‘Agent Doggett’.  Here, out in the middle of New York, sitting in the 
grass of Central Park.  

‘There’s no accounting for epiphanies,’ she thought wryly.

He went to put the can back down when she asked, “Is there any more in 
there?”

Bringing up the can to his ear and giving it a small shake, he confirmed, 
“Yep.  There’s a mouthful left.  Or at least two of yours.  Want some?”  
When she went to take it from his hand, he pulled it back.  Adopting his 
best serious face, he said, “Are you sure?  There’s boy germs on it.”

She gave a light snort and pulled the can away from him.  “I’ll try to 
carry on,” she deadpanned.  Mimicking his earlier motion, she tilted her 
head back and let the cold drink make its way down her throat.  Boy 
germs and all.  ‘Not a boy,’ her internal voice whispered.  ‘Not a boy at 
all.’

*

“Go, go, go,” he barked as he hustled her into the subway car, amidst the 
converging crowd who had the same idea in mind.

When they left the park at the W72nd exit, he had turned to Scully and 
innocently asked, “Do you wanna walk the 30 blocks or take the 
subway?”  Her raised eyebrow answered that one for him.  So now here 
they were, in the middle of the work commute, just two more bodies 
trying to get somewhere in a container that didn’t quite seem built to 
hold so many people.

“ ‘Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes’,” Scully remarked.

Doggett, who had, in a stroke of genius, realized facing Scully in such 
cramped quarters was probably not the best of ideas, had quickly twisted 
around when the doors closed and now had his back to her.  Using his 
height as an advantage, he was able to hold on to a metal bar above his 
head.  He couldn’t quite turn his head to see her, so instead looked under 
his arm to ask, “Pardon?”

She simply shook her head.

“Now you know how sardines feel,” he said with a smile.

At that moment, the subway lurched forward.  With bodies pressed so 
close together, she really didn’t need to hold on to anything.  With each 
bump and jerk, the crowd moved as one.  But with a sudden boldness 
that surprised even herself, Scully reached up and, under the guise of 
steadying herself, placed her hands on Doggett’s hips, just above the belt 
loops of his jeans, and curled her arms around his waist.

The speed of the tunnel and advertising as they flew by prevented Scully 
from getting a good image of Doggett’s reflection in the window of the 
doors, but she was sure she got a glimpse of his wide eyes and surprised 
smirk.  She couldn’t help but smirk herself.

Their bodies were so closely pressed together that she could see the 
cross-stitch of the fabric in his cotton t-shirt.  When the train hit an 
unusually sharp corner, her nose would bump into his back.  Still, 
surrounded by all these people, she found it an opportunity to turn 
inward.

She hadn't come to New York on a whim, just as sure as he didn't invite 
her on one.  She may not be so good with normality as she had claimed 
in the park, but she was still an investigator, and a pretty damn good one.  
So, approaching this as a case, what did her instincts tell her?  Fact- he 
had asked her to come to New York, a place she knew he held dear.  
Fact- she was in New York for no other reason than this man asked her.  
Fact- her goal to find something to hate about him in those early days of 
their partnership was short-lived.  She not only grew to like him as a 
partner, but as a friend.  Fact- she found herself leaning in to catch a 
whiff of his scent.  Fact- she enjoyed the feel of his waist under her 
palms and was doing everything in her power not to slip her hands into 
his pockets.  Fact- oh boy, she was in trouble.

*

It was almost 4:30 by the time they reached the hotel.  Whatever 
nutritional value their hotdogs may have given them had long faded 
away.  They had returned to the hotel to retrieve a jacket for Scully, and 
to determine their next course of action.  At the front desk, another 
option came open.

“Oh, Mr. Doggett,” the clerk said as he handed over the keys, “there’s a 
message here for you.”

Doggett’s puzzled expression soon melted into a smile.

‘John- on the off-chance you’re still in the city, I still owe you a drink.  
Me, Nora and Serena will come up to O’Reilly’s around six.  Hope to see 
you there. –Jack McCoy.’

Seeing his smile, Scully said, “At least I know it’s good news.”

Doggett looked up from the note.  “Yeah.”  Then, realizing that told her 
nothing, he continued, “Sorry.  It’s a message from Jack McCoy, the 
D.A. on the case.  Wants to get together for a celebratory drink.”  Scully 
gave a small nod.  He tilted his head and asked, “What do you think?  
You up for it?”

“Of course,” she answered.  A quick touch of his hand with hers backed 
up the claim.  “I’d love to meet your friends.”

She was rewarded with a Doggett grin.  “Great.  So why don’t we get our 
jackets and grab a coffee in the Square?  You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, “a little bit.”

“We’ve got an hour.  We can grab a quick bite to eat if you want.”

“That would be great.”

*

The small restaurant was bustling as the waitress brought them to their 
tiny window table.  She took their drink orders and left them with menus.

“The best part of a big city,” Doggett remarked.

Scully looked up from her menu.  “What?  The diverse food choices?”

He laughed and shook his head.  “No.”  He looked out the window.  “The 
people watchin’.”

She put down her menu and watched him as he watched others.  The 
light soft brows over his startling blue eyes.  The long straight nose 
marred only by the faint hash mark of a scar.  His mouth, as always, a 
firm line of determination and thought, underscored by the long, harsh 
line of his jaw.  Yet she always returned to those eyes.  She could think 
of him in thumbnail sketches and tangible terms- six foot, 180 pounds, 
light brown hair, blue eyes; honourable, loyal, strong, noble.  And yet it 
was his eyes that seemed to undermine all her attempts to label him.  
They were a mystery to her, just as sure as the man himself.

“I always wonder where they’re goin’, where they’re comin’ from, what 
they’re thinkin’,” he said, breaking the silence.  He was either oblivious 
to Scully’s perusal of his face, or he simply didn’t take notice.

Returning to her menu, she laughed, “You are such a cop.”

He turned from the window and echoed her laughter.  The waitress 
materialized at their table with their coffee.  “Ready to order?”

Scully looked down at Doggett’s untouched menu, then up at him.  He 
nodded.  “Go ahead.”

“I’ll just have the egg salad sandwich on whole wheat with the 
minestrone soup.”

Doggett looked up at the waitress.  “Medium-rare burger with fries.  
Hold the tomato.”

The waitress jotted down the information, collected the menus and left.

Scully laughed.

“I know, I know,” Doggett interjected, “it’s what I order every time we 
go out for lunch.  What can I say?”  He held out his hands in defeat.  
“I’m as predictable as they come.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she said.  When she saw his look, she 
went on.  “There’s nothing wrong with predictability.  There’s a certain 
comfort in it, in fact.  Besides, it just goes to show you how we can look 
at the same thing differently.”  He raised his eyebrows in question.  “You 
think you’re predictable because you order the same thing all the time,” 
she continued.  “On the other hand, I depend on you to order the same 
thing all the time.”

“So you’re sayin’ I view myself as predictable, but you see me as 
dependable?”

“Exactly.”

He lifted his cup to his mouth and took a drink.  “Well,” he ventured, “I 
guess there’s somethin’ to be said for dependability.”

She lifted her own cup and raised it in his direction as if making a toast.  
“There certainly is.”

*

They ate their meal in relative silence, each content in the other’s 
company to simply gaze out the window at the teeming life outside.

Popping the last fry into his mouth, Doggett pushed back from the table 
slightly and patted his stomach.  “I shoulda wore sweatpants.”

Scully laughed.

He gave her a mock-stern look.  “What?”

“I’ve never seen you in sweatpants.  I’m just trying to imagine it.”

“There’s a lot of things you haven’t seen me in, Agent Scully.  You try 
and imagine all that, too?”

She felt her cheeks burn.  In a feeble attempt to change the subject, she 
said, “There’s that sense of humour again.”

He laughed, knowing he had her.  He let her off the hook by asking, “So, 
I know you’ve only been in New York for five hours, but how do you 
like it so far?”

Thankful for the reprieve, she said, “It’s been great.  A walk in the park, 
the questionable content of a hotdog,” he laughed at this, “and some 
good company.  What more could I ask for?”

He gave a self-deprecating grin.

“And how about you?” she asked.  “You’ve been in the city considerably 
longer.  How’s it treating you?”

He leaned forward and picked up a spoon.  “It’s been… good.”  When he 
received no response, he stopped twisting the spoon and looked up at 
Scully.  He saw her questioning gaze and he smiled.  “No, I mean it.”  
His attention returned to the spoon, where he seemed absorbed in his 
concave reflection.  “It… it wasn’t easy.  Just different.  Things were 
different,” he repeated.

“How so?”

He gave a little shrug.  “I dunno.”  Bringing up his fingers to his chest, 
he tried to explain.  “I thought I would never lose the ache.”  His hand 
returned to the spoon.  After a moment, he continued, “And I haven’t lost 
it, not all of it.  But I guess I realized with this trip that the world carries 
on, the world changes.  Even if you don’t want it to.”  

He said the last line ruefully.  Scully reached over and rested her fingers 
on the band of his watch and let her thumb soothe the inside of his wrist.  
“The world’s changed.  The neighbourhood’s changed.  I’ve changed.”  
Looking out the window, he clenched his jaw and gave a defeated smile.  
“Tomorrow’s a brand new day, and I figure ya got two choices.  You 
either stay inside, stay inside yourself and die, or ya step out and try to 
find things, all the things that remind you that life’s worth livin’.  I guess 
at some point, I decided I was tired of dyin’.  I never realized somewhere 
along the line I had made that decision until I came back.”  

When Doggett turned from the window to face her again, he saw the 
tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes mirrored in her own.  He 
turned his hand over so that her hand was now resting in his palm.  With 
his free hand, he reached across and gently traced the outline of her small 
fingers.

“It won’t always be like this, you know,” he assured her.  “It won’t 
always be about loss and tears and heartache.”

Scully wasn’t sure if he was talking about her or him.  Or them.

“It won’t always be like this,” he repeated.  “I promise.”  He gave her a 
soft smile and a reassuring wink.  “And you can depend on that.”

*

They stepped into the dimly lit pub and stood near the entranceway for a 
moment, as Doggett’s eyes adjusted to the light.  As he surveyed the 
room, he caught the eye of the bartender.

“John!” he called out.

Using his hand on her waist, Doggett gently guided Scully to the bar.

James extended his hand over the counter.  “Good to see you again, 
John.”  

Doggett returned the gesture and smiled.  “Good to see you too, James.”  
His hand found its way back to Scully’s waist and he warmly said, “This 
is my good friend, Dana.  Dana, meet James, the best Irish bartender this 
side of the Atlantic.”

James laughed heartily and took Scully’s offered hand in his own.  
Tilting his head in Doggett’s direction, he said, “He’s done an old man’s 
heart good by bringing such beauty into the place.”  When he saw her 
small embarrassed smile, he playfully added, “Though I don’t know what 
you see in *that* mug.”

“Must be the luck o’ the Irish,” Doggett drawled.

“Oh, I think there might be a bit more to it than that,” Scully replied.

Doggett’s eyebrows shot up and James gave another huge laugh.  “Well, 
far be it for me to get into your personal life.”  He winked at Scully and 
continued, “On that note, what can I get for you two lovely people 
tonight?”

Happy to be off the hook, Doggett answered, “Actually, we’re here 
lookin’ for Jack McCoy, the guy I was in here with the other night.”

“Oh, he’s in the other room.  Though he’s done you one better, my 
friend.  He’s brought *two* lovely women with him.”

Doggett’s eyes narrowed.  “Didn’t you just try ta charm the socks off this 
lady here with the ‘beauty into the place’ line?”

James’ eyes lowered guiltily.  “You noticed that, eh?”

“Noticed?”  Doggett asked.  “Hell, I was takin’ notes.”

James threw the bar towel and hit Doggett square in the chest.  “Go on!”

*

The dining room addition to the pub was a small one, and McCoy was 
easy to spot.  Doggett leaned down and whispered into Scully’s ear.  
“You sure you’re okay with this?”

She nodded and smiled, “I’m sure.  I want to meet your friends.  Besides, 
I think he’s just spotted us.”  Sure enough, McCoy was standing at his 
table and gesturing the two of them over.  

It was handshakes and hellos all around as Doggett re-connected with an 
old friend and reacquainted himself with two new ones.  When the 
greetings were over, Doggett gave Scully’s arm a small subconscious 
stroke with the back of his hand and said, “Everyone, this is Dana.  Dana, 
this is Jack’s assistant, Serena, their boss, Nora, and the man himself, the 
infamous Jack McCoy.”

Between each introduction, Scully was greeted with a smile and a “hello” 
until she got to Jack, who shook her hand and said softly, “It’s a great 
pleasure to meet you, Dana.”  Then, with a smirk in Doggett’s direction, 
he added, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”  He pretended not to notice 
Doggett’s glower.

“All good, I hope,” Scully smiled.

Motioning for them to sit, Jack said, “From Johnny, it’s always good.  I 
don’t think he’d say ‘shit’ if his mouth was full of it.”

“But I thought all you Irishmen were full of it,” Serena piped up.

*

And so the evening went, the small group of newly acquainted friends 
enjoying a few drinks and a few laughs.  Talk touched upon everything 
from the IRA to the pitching problems of the Mets.  At one point, Jack 
brought the topic around to work, when Nora halted him.  “No shop talk, 
please!  I’m in the company of good friends and good beer.  I don’t want 
to talk about work.”

With this, Doggett raised his glass.  “To good friends and good beer.”  
They all followed suit and touched glasses.

“Slainte,” Jack toasted.

“So how long have you two been together?”  Nora asked in Doggett and 
Scully’s direction.

They looked at each other, silently working out the chronology.  Scully 
finally took the lead.  “Mmmm, almost two years, I’d say.”  

Doggett nodded.  “I can’t remember the date,” he said, “but I remember 
the day.  I don’t think I ever had a first day start with a glass of cold 
water thrown in my face.”

“You deserved it,” she replied defensively.

He smiled at her and at the memory.  “You’re right.  I did.”

Serena laughed.  “The first time you two met, you threw a glass of water 
in his face?”

Now it was Scully’s turn to nod.  “Yep.  If I said we got off on the wrong 
foot, would that be an understatement?” she asked Doggett.

He laughed and replied, “Nope.  That’s a pretty fair statement.”

“But things got better from there,” she went on.

“It could only get better from there,” Doggett remarked.

Sheepishly accepting her silent reprimand for interrupting, he let her 
continue.  “We’re so different.  I never thought it would work out.  But 
I’ve discovered that his stubborn refusal to leave the cop in him behind 
has helped us solve a lot of cases.”

Both Nora’s and Serena’s expressions became one of confusion.  Jack 
leaned over to Nora and whispered loud enough for the entire table to 
hear.  “They’re partners.  In the FBI.”

The slow dawn of realization spread over the faces of everyone except 
Jack.

“Oh,” Nora began.  “Oh, I see…”

“I thought…” Serena trailed off.

Scully, who realized the error, tripped out of the starting gate herself.  
“Oh.”  With a bit more certainty, she added, “No.  We’re partners.  I 
mean, we’re work partners.  At work.”

“I didn’t realize you were on a case in New York, Johnny,” McCoy 
remarked.  His smirk was short-lived when he felt the sharp kick of 
Doggett’s boot connect with his shin.  “Ow!”

Nora looked at Scully, then at Doggett, then back again.  “I’m sorry. I 
shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

“And *this* is precisely why I’m the second chair,” Serena noted.

The young woman’s comment lightened the moment and put everyone at 
ease.

“So, what’s it like working in the FBI?” Nora asked.

“Hey,” Jack interjected, “I thought you didn’t want to talk about work.”

“Well, not our work,” Nora said.  “Besides, I heard John works in some 
division called the x-files.  That sounds a little beyond standard good 
guy/bad guy cases.”

Doggett groaned.  “Yeah, just a little.”

For the next hour, the two agents enthralled the lawyers with cases of 
man-bats, metal men and messianic slugs.

“Got the scar to prove it,” Scully said, pointing to the base of her neck 
where Doggett’s knife had left its mark.  He reached up and stroked it 
gently with his fingers.  She turned and gave him a smile, a sign of 
reassurance that she backed up by surreptitiously resting her hand on his 
knee and giving it a small squeeze.  The old adage, “This is going to hurt 
me more than it hurts you,” always seemed like a big fat lie to her, but 
she knew in some regard, it *did* hurt him more than it hurt her.  She 
knew, even in the early stages of their partnership, that to harm her in 
any way was entirely against the grain of his character.  Now later, as 
friends, the evidence of the pain he inflicted upon her must have hurt him 
even more.  His compassion warmed her.  His touch was doing other 
things.

As the conversation went on, what amazed Scully the most was how they 
accepted these stories, not with ridicule, but with thought.  These were 
analytical people by nature and profession, and yet she could see them 
weighing her stories with merit and possibility, rather than dismissing 
them outright as she had been so used to in years past.

She wondered why this was until a thought occurred to her.  ‘They 
respect my opinion, regardless of their own beliefs, because John 
respects it, and because he is respected.’  It was something she had 
always fought to achieve during her years with Mulder, but it always 
seemed like she failed, on all three counts.

“I saw a U.F.O once,” Serena confessed.

Jack and Nora’s eyebrows nearly jumped off their heads.  Scully leaned 
forward.  “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I was entering the Lincoln Tunnel one night when I 
saw this bluey-green light in the sky.  It was oval-shaped and it didn’t 
move.  It just hovered there in the sky.”

By this point, everyone had leaned forward.

“What happened next?”  Nora asked.

Serena looked at her and shrugged.  “Nothing.  I was only about 100 
yards from the tunnel when I saw it.  By the time I got a really good look 
at it, I was almost in the tunnel.  When I came out the other side, I didn’t 
see it.  It was gone.”

The table was quiet until Jack spoke.  “Well, I don’t work in the 
paranormal, and the only aliens I’ve ever seen were illegal ones, but I 
can explain that one, Serena.”

All eyes turned to Jack.  Now it was his turn to shrug.  “It’s simple.  You 
saw it on the Jersey side of the tunnel, right?”  Serena nodded.  “Pockets 
of swamp gas reflecting light from the moon or Venus or the city.  It’s 
New Jersey.  I’m surprised U.F.O sightings aren’t more frequent.”

Laughter spread around the table, but Serena shook her head.  “I don’t 
care what you think.  I know what I saw and it wasn’t swamp gas.”

Scully picked up her glass and touched it to Serena’s. “Welcome to my 
world,” she said with a smile.

*

Doggett met Scully in the hallway to the bathrooms as he was coming 
out and she was going in.

“Hey,” she smiled.

“Hey.  How you doin’?”

“I’m doing good,” she replied.

“You tired?”

She shook her head.  “No.”  When she saw him give her a look, she 
admitted, “Yeah, maybe a little.  I’m sorry.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and gave a squeeze.  “What are ya 
sorry for?  It’s been a long day for you.  For both of us.”

She closed her eyes, partly because she *was* tired, partly because she 
was enjoying the mini-massage he was giving her.  “You should have 
those hands registered,” she murmured.  When they stopped, she realized 
the unexpected candor of her words.  She opened her eyes and saw his 
smile.  She could do nothing but smile back.

“When you come out, we’ll take off,” he said, finally breaking the 
silence.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed.

As he walked away, she was amazed at a new discovery- he may have 
taken his gentle touch with him, but he had left behind an ache in her.  A 
small ache of emptiness that only seemed to grow as the distance grew 
between them.  She closed her eyes again.

“Damn Irishmen.”

* * *

When he reached the table, Doggett told the group of the conversation 
with Scully.

Jack nodded. “We were thinking something along those lines ourselves.  
It’s been a long day,” he said, echoing Doggett’s earlier comment.

“Yeah, us, too,” Doggett agreed.

Jack stood up.  “Can I talk to you for a minute, Johnny?”

“If you stop callin’ me ‘Johnny’.”

As a response, McCoy grabbed Doggett’s arm and dragged him out of 
his chair.  “Let’s go.”

In order to compensate for the twist in his arm, Doggett had to comply.  
“Geez, no need to bring violence into it.”

When they got around the corner to the other side of the pub, Jack let go.  
When he saw the younger man rub his arm, Jack chastised, “Don’t be 
such a baby.”  Then, more playfully, he added, “What would Dana say?”

Realizing where this was going, Doggett grinned and shook his head.  
“Don’t.”

Jack smiled.  “She’s nice.”

Doggett smiled back. “Yeah.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Yeah.”

“Smart as a whip.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And she likes you.”

Doggett looked at McCoy.  “And you didn’t say that like it’s a bad 
thing.”  When McCoy didn’t respond to the joke, Doggett shoved his 
hands into his pockets and gave Jack’s comment some thought.  “Yeah,” 
he quietly confessed, “I think she does.”

Jack clasped his hand on Doggett’s shoulder and gave him a warm and 
genuine smile.  “That’s great.  I’m happy for you, Johnny.”  Jerking his 
head towards the other room, he asked, “So what happens next?”

Doggett laughed and shrugged.  “I dunno.  I didn’t think she’d come to 
New York.  I didn’t plan much further than that.”

Jack joined in on the laughter.

“Listen,” Doggett said seriously, “whatever happens, I just wanna thank 
you ‘n’ Lennie for settin’ me straight on this.  Both of ya gave me a lot to 
think about, and for once, you guys were right.”

McCoy mirrored the grin.  “Speaking of Lennie, has he met Dana yet?”

“No, she just got in today.  I thought maybe we’d go up to the 2-7 
tomorrow, see if he’s kickin’ around.”

Jack shook his head.  “I don’t think he’ll be there.  I think he’s on a 
surveillance job with Ed until next week.  You should call Anita; she’ll 
tell you.”  The corners of his mouth suddenly turned down and he 
pretended to wipe a tear from his eye.  “Lennie will be so proud.  You’ve 
made two old men very happy.”

Doggett gave Jack his best stern look and grabbed McCoy’s arm. 
“C’mon, old man.  Let’s go.”

*

By the time the two men got back, Dana had already returned.

“You ready to go?” Doggett asked.

She looked up.  “Yeah.”

He helped her to her feet, and good-byes were made.

“When are you leaving?”  Nora asked.

Doggett shrugged.  “I dunno.  Sometime Sunday.  Dana drove up so 
we’ll be drivin’ back.”

“Well, since I probably won’t see you before then,” she stepped towards 
Doggett and opened her arms.  He smiled and completed the embrace 
warmly.  She held him firmly and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you.  
Don’t be a stranger.”  She kissed him on the cheek and laughed as his 
ears went red.  “Take care, Johnny.”

When she stepped back, Serena said, “I’m definitely getting me some of 
that,” and stepped into the space left by Nora.  Doggett returned the 
gesture with affection.  His ears barely had time to return to their normal 
colour when Serena repeated Nora’s kiss.

“That’s just like you, Johnny,” McCoy admonished, ‘always 
monopolizing the attention.”

Jack’s shade of red was surprisingly similar to Doggett’s as the lawyer 
felt Scully’s arms around him and her lips on his cheek.  “It was nice to 
meet you, Jack.”

When she pulled away, Doggett crowed, “Mark this day on the calendar.  
The great Jack McCoy- speechless.”

After the laughter died down, he once again rested his hand on Scully’s 
waist and guided her to the door.  After a quick good-bye to James, they 
were gone.

*

When they reached her door, she turned and looked at him. Not waiting 
for him to say a word, she spoke first.  “I want you to know, I had a great 
time tonight.  Today, in fact.”

He slipped his thumbs into his back pockets and rocked back on his 
heels.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His broad grin made his words unnecessary, but he spoke them anyway.  
“Good.  Me, too.”

The silence stretched out between them as neither wanted to make the 
next step-  whatever that step should be.

Finally, and with a bit of bravery that surprised her, Scully reached up 
and took his chin in her hand.  She turned his head slightly and gave a 
small frown.

“What is it?” he asked.

Under the bright lights of the hallway, she inspected his cheek and shook 
her head.  “These shades of lipstick on your cheek,” she said.  She 
paused as she examined some more.  As if this second examination 
supported a theory, she now nodded her head knowingly.  “As I 
suspected.  They are definitely the wrong colour for your skin tone.”

He smirked and turned his head back to her again.  “I didn’t know you 
had your doctorate in cosmetology.”  With her hand still on his chin, she 
gave a small reprimanding squeeze.  “Okay, okay,” he said, getting the 
hint.  “So, Doctor Scully, what shade would you recommend?”

She faltered for a moment.  She had forgotten his humour and how he 
could match her playfulness note for note.  Hell, he could better it.  And 
she had just played herself into a corner.  Advance or retreat?

In an instant, her rogue heart overruled her head.

She turned his head the other way and brought him down as she raised 
herself up.  “This shade,” she whispered in his ear before resting her lips 
on his cheek.

She brought her free hand up to curl around his shoulder in order to keep 
her balance, and in response, his hands came around her waist and found 
a home at the small of her back.  This was nothing like the embrace he 
had given Nora or Serena.  This was something entirely different.

Everything suddenly seemed magnified.  His breathing, so soft near her 
ear.  His scent, a mixture of soap and man.  His hands, broad and 
comforting as they warmed her through her blouse.  Even the hint of 
stubble that indicated how late the night was touched a hyper-sensitivity 
button in her.  And suddenly it was as if there wasn’t enough air to 
breathe.  Her heart pounded in her ears and she could feel the blood rush 
to her head.  She pulled back and rested her forehead against his.  
Waiting until the turmoil died down, she finally said, “I’ll see you 
tomorrow?”

His eyes a shade of blue she had never seen, he answered, “Yeah.”  With 
a smile, he repeated, “Yeah.”

He stood there as she retrieved the key from her pocket.  He remained in 
place as she opened the door and said, “Goodnight.”  She closed the door 
behind her, and as she smiled at the unexpectedness of the last few 
minutes, she noticed a shadow under her door.  He hadn’t moved.  
Stealthily, she took a look through the peephole and stifled a laugh.  
There he was, staring at the very spot Scully had left vacant.  And his 
smile hadn’t left his face.  She shook her head in amusement and left him 
to enjoy the moment.

*

The knock came on her door at precisely 10 A.M.  A quick look through 
the peephole rewarded her with the same view she got the night before- 
an image of a smiling John Doggett.  She reflexively smiled back, 
unhooked the chain and opened the door.

“Good mornin’,” he said.

“Good morning yourself,” she replied.

He stepped in at her unspoken invitation.  Gazing around the room, then 
back to her, he remarked, “You’ve been up for a while.”  When she 
nodded, he continued, “After the long day we had yesterday, I figured 
you’d wanna sleep in.  I didn’t wanna wake you too soon.”

Scully laughed.  “I thought the same thing about you.  When nine 
o’clock rolled around and you hadn’t knocked on my door, I thought I 
had worn you out yesterday.”

“You’ve been up since nine?” he asked.

“What can I say?  Old habits die hard.  Nine o’clock *is* sleeping in.”  
She saw his boyish grin and squinted suspiciously at him.  “How long 
have you been up?”

Doggett shrugged.  “Oh, I’ve been up since around six.  Went out for a 
paper and a run.”

She tilted her head at him.  “I didn’t realize you jogged.”

He jerked his head back and snorted.  “Who said anythin’ about joggin’?  
I was runnin’ from a mugger.  It’s New York.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter.  “You know, if you had told me that 
you were running *down* a mugger, I might have believed you.  But you 
running *from* a mugger?”

Looking up as if taking a mental note of her comment, he answered, “I’ll 
have to remember that the next time I try that joke.  It’s *me* chasin’ the 
*mugger*.”  Seeing the smile he was aiming for, he asked, “You wanna 
go for some breakfast?  We’ve never had breakfast together before.  I 
might surprise you with my unpredictable choice of food.”

Scully reached for her jacket then gave him a patented raised eyebrow.  
“Let me see,” she began, “two eggs over easy, side order of bacon, hash 
browns, toast, with a coffee and a small glass of orange juice.”

His face fell in an overstated pout and he lowered his head.  “Whole 
wheat toast,” he corrected meekly. 

She reached up and took his chin gently in her hand.  “Come on, Mr. 
Dependable.  Let’s go eat.”

*

After breakfast, they talked about what they were going to do for the day.  
While the New York sights were certainly tempting, Scully preferred to 
let Doggett take the lead, and told him so.  She wanted to see the city 
through his eyes, to see his loves.  He had made a face when she said this 
to him, but he agreed to her terms.  And so they spent the day making 
their way through the city, not at the frenetic, non-stop pace of a tourist, 
but with the languid, easy-going stride of two people who were enjoying 
the company of each other as much as they were enjoying what the city 
had to offer.  To an outsider, Doggett seemed to take Scully nowhere in 
particular, but she knew these places were special to him.  All she had to 
do was look into his face when they stood outside the large cathedral 
doors.  His blue eyes twinkled at the humour, but they also spoke deeper 
volumes.

Scully’s mouth twitched.  “ ‘Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine’,” 
she read.  “Good thing they made the doors big enough for your head to 
fit through.”

He gave a loud laugh.  “It’s not my fault.  When my ex-wife found out 
about this place, she felt a whole lot better when I went to work.  She 
said she felt like she knew someone was watchin’ over me.  I always 
used to laugh it off and tell her they only sainted people after they died.”

Scully’s mouth dropped.  “You didn’t!”  The sheepish grin answered her 
accusation.  She grabbed a bit of his shirt and yanked it.  “You must have 
worried her sick.”

Doggett released the fabric from her grasp by taking her hand in his.  
“Yeah, I probably didn’t make things any better.  She worried enough as 
it was that I was never comin’ home.”  He looked down at their joined 
hands.  “I never told her that I used to come here myself.  Those nights 
when I thought I couldn’t handle one more shift at work.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and slipped her arm around his waist.  “Do 
you want to go in?”

Looking up at the looming archway, he drew in a deep breath before 
answering, “Sure, why not?”

*

Scully always felt a certain amount of reverence in any place of worship, 
but she wasn’t sure how Doggett felt.  He had never mentioned any 
religious leanings, and while she could make some assumptions based on 
his Southern upbringing, she had to admit she had no idea.  They walked 
along the dimly lit aisles in relative silence, until they reached The Great 
Rose Window.

“Wow,” was all she could whisper.

He raised his head to the stained glass mosaic.  “It’s the largest stained 
glass window in the world.  Over ten thousand pieces of glass.”  He 
pointed as he listed off the names of the images.  “That’s Matthew, that’s 
Mark.  Luke’s over there with John.”  He smiled at this pairing of names.  
“That’s the prophet Isaiah, with Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel.”  He 
looked down to see the surprise on Scully’s face.  Doggett shrugged.  
“Did I mention I use ta come here all the time?”

“I never thought you had it in you, John,” she admitted.

He looked back up at the prismatic image.  “I haven’t had it in me for a 
long time.”  

Before the silence set in, he asked, “Wanna sit down?”

She nodded, and he guided her to a nearby pew.  Before she sat down, 
she gave notice to the large crucifix above the altar and made a small 
sign of the cross.  Doggett looked away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

He waved off her apology.  “We’re in a church.  And I know it’s 
somethin’ you believe in.  I’m not gonna get offended because you’re 
followin’ your faith.  It’s not your fault I had a fallin’ out with the Big 
Guy.”  He smiled a bit.

“Luke.”

He leaned back in the pew and looked ahead at the altar.  “Nah.  I mean, 
yeah, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back I guess, but there 
were a lot of things goin’ on before that.  Lebanon, for one.”  He turned 
to her.  “And growin’ up in the South, I got some stories from my 
childhood, let me tell ya.”  He reached out and gently twisted a strand of 
her hair around his index finger.  “But let me bore you with those stories 
another time, okay?”

She nodded and barely whispered, “Okay.”  

As partners, she would never tell him just how much his gentle side got 
to her.  It wouldn’t be smart to let him know he could use the soft and 
gentle card and she’d be putty in his hands.  She had fought the effects of 
those puppy dog eyes and wounded heart since the day she met him.  But 
now, here they were, not as partners, but as friends.  And she could feel 
herself dissolve into that putty.  In his hands.  His very large hands with 
the blunt fingertips that were ever so faintly brushing along the side of 
her cheek as he twirled her strand of hair around his finger.

‘Dear God,’ she thought, ‘how many ‘Hail Mary’s would I have to do if I 
took this man, right here on this pew?’

She was saved by an intrusive rumble.  Doggett looked down at his 
stomach.  “I think that was me,” he ventured.  Patting the offender, he 
said, “Gotta feed the beast.  Are you hungry?”

Scully laughed.  “I don’t think it really matters if I’m hungry.  But, yeah, 
I am.”

He stood up and held out his hand.  “C’mon then.”

She took his hand and they made their way to the door.  Just before 
leaving, Doggett turned around and gave an almost imperceptible sign of 
the cross.  Scully said nothing, but he knew she noticed.  He 
nonchalantly raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.  

“Hey,” he explained, “you can never be too careful.  And I’m already in 
His bad book.  That ‘Divine’ bit is just a rumour.”

Scully grabbed his arm and shook her head.  “Come on, St. John.  I feel 
like a hotdog.”

*

They sat in amiable silence, enjoying their messy sidewalk meal on the 
grand steps of the New York Public Library.

“Another of your favourite places?” Scully asked him between bites.

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled.  Taking a moment to swallow, he then 
added, “We should go in when we’re done eatin’.  I’ve never been inside.  
But it shore does look purty on the outside.”

“Stop it,” she chastised as she bumped into his shoulder with her own.  
“That slow Southern cop trick might work on other people, but I know 
better.”

He licked mustard out of the corner of his mouth, causing her a moment 
of distraction.  Oblivious to her state, he corrected, “Now that’s not 
entirely true.  It worked on ya at the very beginnin’.”

Scully dragged her gaze from his mouth back to his eyes.  Taking a 
moment to process what he had just said, she then admitted, “You’re 
right.  It did.  And that was my mistake.  I underestimated you those first 
few months, and I apologize.  I promise to never make that mistake 
again.”

“Nah.  I should apologize,” he said.  “I shouldn’t’ve tried that number on 
ya.”

“Well we both learned something.  Live and learn,” she said.

He lifted his can of Coke and echoed, “Live and learn.”

They spent most of the day outside the great building as the sun shifted 
shadows across the steps.  Unlike their time together in the Park the day 
earlier, there was no moment of uncertainty on Scully’s part.  She felt at 
ease in his presence and in the moment around her.  She didn’t wonder 
what her “role” was, because she knew none was expected of her.  And 
so they talked about work, about family, about movies, about themselves.  
And when they didn’t talk, it wasn’t unsettling or uneasy.  At one point, 
she reached her arm around his back and pressed into his shoulder.

“Not that I’m complainin’,” he said, “but should I ask what that was 
for?”

She shook her head.  “Nothing.”

“Great,” he grinned.  “Makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”

Her warm embrace was replaced by a shot to the arm.

*

“I gotta surprise for you,” he began, “but first, I got one more person I’d 
really like ya ta meet.”

Scully looked up at him.  “A surprise?”  When she saw his nod, she said, 
“You know I don’t like surprises.”

“You’ll like this one, I promise.”

“I’m sure I will,” she admitted, “but I’ll like it more if you tell me now.”  
The last bit had a distinct threatening tone to it, which Doggett didn’t 
miss.

“Well, all right, since ya twisted my arm…”

“…would you like me to?” she offered.

He held his hands up in a non-threatening way.  “No, no, s’okay.  I 
meant that figuratively.”  He reached into his back pocket.  “I got two 
tickets to ‘Rent’ tonight.”

Scully’s eyes widened in amazement.  “You didn’t.”

Doggett rubbed the tickets back and forth between his fingers.  “I did.”  
He saw her eyes light up and a smile spread across her face.  He tried to 
deflect his embarrassment by shrugging it off.  “What?  I told ya if you 
came I’d get tickets to ‘Rent’.  How could I, in good conscience, go back 
on my word?”

“That’d be damn unprofessional of you, Agent Doggett,” she teased.

“Damn straight,” he agreed, but his grin let her know he was in on the 
joke.  “Anyway,” he continued, “I got these tickets, but I got a friend I’d 
like ya ta meet.  If you’re up to it.”

“Of course I’m up to it,” she said.  

Standing, he held out his hands to help her up.  Hearing his knees protest 
this new position, Doggett lamented, “I’m gettin’ old.”

“Like a fine wine,” Scully stated as she accepted his help.

He was one step below her, and this extra height for her allowed them to 
stand almost eye-to-eye.  There was something almost erotic about 
seeing him at this level.  It puzzled her until she realized the only other 
time they would truly be eye-to-eye would be if they were horizontal.  
Fortunately for her, he took the initiative to be the first to speak.

“Is this another one of those things that I don’t need to know?” 

She looked at him quizzically, then was horrified to think he had just 
read her mind.  He put her at ease by clarifying things.  “The ‘fine wine’ 
compliment.”

“Oh!” she said.  Then, thinking there needed to be more said after that 
little burst, she added, “Yes.  It was a compliment.  And you shouldn’t 
ask what they’re for.  Just accept them and move on.”

Doggett nodded his understanding.  “Okay.  I think I’m gettin’ the hang 
of this.”  At this range, she could see the mischief forming in his eyes.  
“By the way, I’d like to give ya a compliment of my own.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said.

“Oh, but it is,” he assured her.  “Just accept it and move on,” he said, 
echoing her comment.  Helping her put her jacket on, he let his fingers 
rest on the lapels.  For the second time in minutes, she was glad he was 
the one speaking.  He looked into her eyes, then down at her lips and 
back again.  “I just wanted to say how nice that shade looks on us.” 

If his eyes were filled with mischief, hers had to be overflowing with 
mortification.  She was wearing the exact same shade of lipstick she had 
on the night before, when she kissed him.  And he had noticed.  The 
bastard.

“You know,” she whispered menacingly, “it would be so easy to make 
this look like an accident.  ‘He lost his footing and fell down the stairs, 
Officer.  I don’t know *how* it happened.’”

His eyebrows shot up and he gave a huge laugh.  Moving his hands from 
her shoulders around to her waist, he shifted his stance as if bracing 
himself, his hips pressing against hers.  “Ya shouldn’t’ve said anythin’.  
Now you’re just gonna havta come with me.”

A horrendous choice of words if she wanted to remain calm, she thought.  
Had she already called him a bastard?

Maintaining her tenuous grip on sanity, she managed to get out, “Well, 
I’ve liked all your friends so far.  If I kill you now, I won’t meet this 
other friend of yours.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned.  “Kill me later.  *After* you meet Lennie.”

*

Through a myriad of intricate subway connections, they made their way 
from the Library to the Port Authority Terminal.  A distance of three 
whole blocks.

“You know,” Scully remarked wryly, “you could have told me where we 
were going and I could have met you there.”

“Hey, I like takin’ the subway.  Besides, the trains don’t go into Hell’s 
Kitchen, so we gotta walk five blocks anyway.”

“You’re taking me into Hell’s Kitchen?”  Scully asked.

They started making their way down 42nd street.  “It’s daylight, don’t 
worry,” he said with a smirk.

“I’m not sure I want to meet this friend of yours anymore.”

He laughed and filled her in.  “Lennie’s a cop.  He’s on a surveillance 
job tonight.  Or, as he put it when I called him, ‘A half-assed babysittin’ 
job’.  It was the only time I’d have a chance to see him before we leave 
tomorrow, and he figured it wouldn’t be a problem, me bein’ FBI and 
all.”

“You?” she said.  “I take it he doesn’t know about me?”

Doggett’s mouth twitched.  “Oh, he knows about ya.  He just doesn’t 
know you’re showin’ up.”

Scully was left to ponder this as they turned up 10th Avenue.

*

After successfully clearing the obstacle course that was the hallway of 
the beat up apartment building, and making their way up to the second 
floor, Doggett gently rapped on the steel door of the room at the end of 
the hall.

A muffled, “Who is it?” greeted them from the other side, and Doggett 
replied, “Pizza.”  A series of chains and bolts were unlatched and 
unlocked, and the door finally cracked open.  They were met by the 
smiling face of Lennie’s partner, Ed Greene.  He hustled them inside and 
spent the next minute re-locking the door.

“How ya doin’, Agent Doggett?” Ed asked, when he was finally finished.

“I’m good, how you doin’?  And it’s ‘John’, please.”

The two men shook hands and Ed glanced over at Scully.

Doggett tilted his head in her direction and said, “This is Dana Scully.  
My partner and a good friend of mine.  Dana, this is Detective Ed 
Greene.”

Ed held out his hand to her and grinned broadly.  “Nice meeting you, 
Agent Scully.  And please, call me ‘Ed’.”

Scully returned his greeting and added, “ ‘Dana’, please.”

“So you’re with the FBI, too, huh?  I’m afraid we don’t need that kind of 
man power on this one.”

“Yeah,” Doggett said, “I hear it’s a baby sittin’ job.”

Ed grinned again. “You’ve been talking to Lennie.”  Doggett smiled and 
Ed had to admit, “Yeah, not much to do here except make sure our man 
doesn’t get any unexpected visitors.  We pulled the easy shift.”

“If anything’s going to happen, it will be after midnight,” Scully 
surmised.

“Yep,” he agreed, “that’s when the shit usually hits the fan.”  He gave 
Scully a sheepish look.  “Sorry.”  When she waved off his apology, he 
said, “Anyway, Lennie’s going to wonder what happened.  Come on, 
he’s in the next room.”

The two agents followed the young detective through the door into the 
larger room.  At the window was a plain clothes cop tinkering with a 
camera, and over at the table was Lennie.  Tossing peanuts into a cup on 
the floor about five feet away from him.

“When eleven o’clock rolls around, you’re gonna be sorry you threw 
those peanuts away.” 

Lennie turned to the sound of the voice.  “Johnny!  Ya made it through 
the Kitchen.”

Doggett gave the older man a bear hug.  “Yeah, but we barely made it 
through the hall.”

Laughing, Lennie clasped his hands on Doggett’s shoulders.  “Good to 
see you, Johnny.”  His eyes glanced over to Scully, who had watched the 
exchange from a short distance.  

Doggett caught the unspoken question and stepped back.  “Lennie, this is 
Dana.  Dana, this is an old friend of mine, Lennie Briscoe.”

“Emphasis on the ‘old’,” Ed called out.

Briscoe shot him a look, then walked over to Scully.  He reached out his 
hand and took hers gently in his.  “A great pleasure to meet you, Dana.”  
Then with a sly look in Doggett’s direction, he added, “So she *does* 
have a first name.”  Before Scully could question that comment, Lennie 
said, “I take it you’ve met my former partner, Ed.”  They laughed in 
response.  “That man over there is Frank Buchanan, our camera guy.”  
The man gave a silent wave.  “They don’t trust me to use a camera.”

“Can you blame them, Lennie?  The last time we were on surveillance, 
you forgot to take the lens cap off.”

“What?” he deflected the laughter, “I’m Homicide, not National 
Geographic.”

*

After pulling up a couple chairs and clearing some space for their two 
guests, Lennie remarked, “Now I see why you had the women falling all 
over themselves in your presence, Johnny.”  He looked around the 
decrepit room.  “You sure do know how to treat a lady.”

Doggett returned the smirk.  “Well, if the company and the atmosphere 
doesn’t work, I always have Plan B, Lennie.”  With this, he pulled out 
the tickets.  “ ‘Rent’,” he crowed.  “Read ‘em ‘n’ weep.”

Lennie reached out for the tickets, but Doggett snatched them back.  
“Ah, ah, ah.”

Lennie frowned.  “Where the hell did you get the money to pay for 
those?”

Doggett leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “I’m a Fed, 
Lennie.  The kickbacks are fuckin’ amazin’.”

Ed covered his ears.  “I don’t think I’m supposed to be hearing this.”

“Yeah,” Lennie said, “be careful what you say, or next time I might be 
doing surveillance on you.”

A voice called from the window.  “I dunno, Lennie.  By the looks of it, 
he probably leads a life that’s a hell of a lot more interesting than this 
mook.”

Lennie looked at Scully, who gave a small cough, then at Doggett who 
glanced away.  “Ed, remind me to take that camera course the 
department’s been offering.”

Scully’s small cough became a choke.  Doggett poured a paper cup of 
water from the bottle on the table and handed it to her.  Glaring at 
Lennie, he said, “Yeah, go ahead.  Kill her with your wit, funny guy.”

She raised her head and wiped her eyes.  “Does this humour come as a 
requisite with the badge?”

“I don’t know about that,” Lennie answered, “but I’ll tell ya something.  
If you don’t have the humour before you get the badge, you damn well 
hope you get it later on or you’ll go crazy.  Sometimes it’s the only thing 
that gets ya through the day.”

“Amen to that, my friend,” Ed agreed.

“Amen,” Frank chimed in.

“On the other hand,” Lennie went on, “life would be so much easier if I 
had partners like you do, Johnny.”

“You comin’ on to my partner, Detective Briscoe?”  Doggett asked 
incredulously.  “God damn.  You don’t see me puttin’ the moves on Ed 
here.”

“Hell,” Lennie said, “if Ed was half as pretty as your partner, *I’d* be 
puttin’ the moves on him.”

“And this is what I have to put up with,” Ed lamented, as he winked at 
Scully.

“That’s all right,” Scully soothed.  “I’d put the moves on you, Ed.  And 
you’re twice as pretty as my partner.”

Lennie’s mouth dropped, Frank hooted, Ed beamed, and Doggett simply 
sat, astonished.

*

While there was a certain connection of respect between Doggett and 
Jack McCoy, the simple camaraderie between Doggett and his fellow 
cops was almost palpable.  They fought the good fight together and 
understood each other in ways only other cops could.  Their stories all 
shared the same themes- pathos, humanity, and humour.  But it was 
mostly humour.

“I swear to God I didn’t know she was a guy,” Doggett swore.  “I’m 
pattin’ her down the arms to the waist, then I start on the legs.  Well, I 
get my hand up inside the thigh and I bump inta somethin’.”  The table 
started rippling with laughter.  “I ignore that voice in my head that’s 
screamin’, ‘There is somethin’ definitely wrong here, Johnny’, and I start 
the pat down on the other leg.”  

Scully’s hand came up to cover her eyes.  

“Sure enough,” he went on, “my other hand bumps inta somethin’.  She, 
he, whoever looks down at me and says, ‘Hey Handsome, you get any 
closer and I’d better be gettin’ your phone number.’  So I say the first 
thing that comes inta my stupid head…”

“… it’s in the book,” Lennie jumped in.

A roar of laughter spread across the table.

“The real kicker was me tryin’ to explain to my wife why we had ta get 
an unlisted number.”

Ed was stamping his foot in laughter, and Lennie was slapping the table.  
Frank was at the window, clutching his stomach.  Scully peeked out 
through her fingers and saw Doggett’s sardonic smile, which only got her 
laughing again.  She leaned into him and muffled her laughter into his 
shoulder.

Looking around the room, Doggett drawled, “Well, I’m *so* glad I can 
be such a source of amusement for you people,” which, of course, only 
made things worse.

When the laughter died down and breathing returned to normal, Lennie 
sighed, “Ah, the good ol’ days.  You ever miss them, Johnny?”

“Yeah, sometimes I do,” he admitted.  “Bein’ on the street is a hell of a 
lot different from bein’ in an office.  But it’s like apples ‘n’ oranges.  
Bein’ a Fed has its own rewards.”

“I bet it does,” Lennie smirked.

“That sounds like a recruiting ad,” Scully said.

“Hell, if it gets me tickets to ‘Rent’, where do I sign up?” Ed asked.

The group laughed again.

Doggett checked his watch.  “Speakin’ of which…”

“Time to go?” Scully asked.

“Yeah.  Well,” he corrected, “that and the fact that it’s gettin’ dark in the 
Kitchen.”

“Maybe we should escort you to Broadway,” Lennie suggested.  “It 
wouldn’t look too good for two Feds to get mugged a block away from 
New York’s Finest.”

“You just wanna get some doughnuts,” Doggett said, not buying any of 
what the older man was saying.

The group stood up and after the two agents said their good-byes to 
Frank, they all made their way to the door.  With Ed and Scully just 
slightly ahead, Lennie pulled Doggett back.

“She seems like a really nice girl, Johnny.  I can see why you like her.  I 
just want you to know, you’ve made this old man very proud.”

Doggett rolled his eyes.  “Jack said the same thing.”

“McCoy’s met her?” Lennie asked. 

“Yeah.  An’ he said you’d be thrilled to meet her.”

Briscoe smiled and nodded.  “I was.  And I’m thrilled for you, too, 
Johnny.  I can’t think of a guy who deserves it more than you.”  He 
clasped a hand on Doggett shoulder.  “Be happy.”

“I will,” he promised.  “I am.”

When they caught up with Ed and Scully, they were sharing another 
laugh.

Looking at Scully, Doggett said, “Hey.  You were just kiddin’ about 
puttin’ the moves on Ed, weren’t ya?”

Scully adopted an innocent look, and when Doggett’s attention turned to 
Ed, the young detective held up his hands.  “Waitaminute now.”

Briscoe came to his partner’s defense.  “Don’t worry about Ed.  She 
could show up with packing boxes and a van and he still wouldn’t know 
she was putting the moves on him.”

“True, that,” Ed agreed, “very true.”  When Doggett’s face broke into a 
grin, Ed puffed out a lungful of air.  Turning to Scully, he said, “Man, I 
bet that look has made many a bad guy wet himself.”

Lennie held out his hand to Scully.  “It was really nice meeting you, 
Dana.  It more than made up for having to look at *his* mug again.”  
Doggett took the ribbing in stride.

Scully shook Briscoe’s hand and replied, “It was a pleasure to meet you, 
too, Lennie.  It meant a lot to me.”  Instinctively, she reached up and 
kissed him on the cheek as she had done with McCoy.  The older man 
blushed.

Ed groaned.  “Lennie, I love you, man, but there’s no way I’m ever doing 
that, so don’t let the thought enter your mind for even one second.”  He 
turned to Scully and rather than hold out his hand, he leaned forward, 
closed his eyes and offered his cheek.  He was astounded to discover the 
lips that were so gently kissing his cheek were attached to the mouth of 
Lennie Briscoe.

“Aw, Jesus!” Ed exclaimed, wiping his cheek furiously.  “I’m going to 
have nightmares for the rest of my life!”

They laughed again and finished off their good-byes.  When Doggett and 
Briscoe broke their embrace, Lennie said, “You two be good.  And be 
good to each other.”


*

“Do you want to come in? Have some wine?”

After the musical was over, they chose to return to the hotel and turn in 
early.  It had been another long day.  At least, that was their story.

“Where did you find time to get wine?” he asked, as he took the key out 
of her hand.

She ignored the nervous lump that had just found a place in her stomach 
when she realized this meant he *was* coming in.  “I got up early this 
morning so I could get it before you knocked on my door.”  He pushed 
the door open and gestured her in.  Following her inside, he closed it 
behind them.  “I hid it in the drawer so you wouldn’t think I was hitting 
the bottle at ten in the morning.”  He laughed and she went on, “It won’t 
be cold.  I was going to put it on ice before we left, but I figured it would 
have melted by the time we got back.”  Was she babbling, she wondered.  
‘Get a grip,’ she told herself.

“And here I thought you slept in.  Do you want some help with that?” he 
asked when she lifted the bottle out of its hiding place.

“No,” she answered.  “Why don’t you take a look around?  I’ve got a 
great view.”

He smiled and said, “I know. I have the same room.”

As she fiddled with the corkscrew, she shot him a look.  “Humour me, 
will you?”

He laughed and walked over to the window.

With the successful ‘pop’ of the cork, she poured them each a glass of 
the deep red liquid.  She was about to pick them up and carry them over 
when she was struck by the image of him, staring out into the city.  His 
back was to her, and his arms were stretched out, his hands resting on the 
window ledge.  She thought of him standing there, so at ease, and how at 
ease she had been with herself these last 36 hours.  Without even trying, 
he had won her over, and she enjoyed it.  She enjoyed it.  She wondered 
how long it had been since she could say such a thing.  And yet, as he 
had said, tomorrow was a brand new day.  More importantly, Monday 
was a brand new day.  Brand new with all the same trappings.  Work.  
The x-files.  The past.  She was afraid it wouldn’t be new at all.

Perhaps he was wondering what was taking her so long, because he 
chose this moment to turn around.  He saw her standing there, her eyes 
closed, her hand covering her mouth.

“Dana?” he spoke, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him standing 
right in front of her.  He saw the tears that were threatening to spill from 
her eyes.  Alarmed, he asked, “What is it?”  When she closed her eyes 
again and shook her head, he brought his hands up to cup her face.  
“Dana.”  He waited for her to open her eyes.  “You know I just wanna 
make it better.”  She nodded at this.  “Tell me what’s wrong.  Please.”

She reached up and took his hands in hers.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t explain 
it,” she said.  “I can’t put it into words.”

Doggett gave her a small comforting grin and after vainly searching for 
the right words to say, joked, “How ‘bout charades?”

Scully laughed in spite of herself, and pushed him away.  And yet… 
maybe it wasn’t as crazy as it sounded.  She wiped the corners of her 
eyes before saying, “Go stand by the window.”

He raised an eyebrow, but did as she asked.  When he realized she wasn’t 
satisfied with this position, he turned around and stood as he had been 
moments earlier.

Seconds seemed like an eternity, but he remained still.  ‘Well, now 
you’ve done it,’ she thought to herself.  ‘Either we stay like this, in 
which case I have a lot of explaining to do, or I move forward… in 
which case I may have a hell of a lot more explaining to do.’

She was too much of a thinker, too much of a scientist, too much of an 
analyzer.  From this moment, with this man, she would go by instinct 
rather than intellect, feeling rather than formula.

‘That would mean you have to step forward, Dana,’ she thought wryly.

Motivated more by fear than conviction, she did just that.  Stepping 
forward until she was directly behind him, she thought… ‘Don’t think.  
Just do.’

She felt him tense up at the feel of her hands circling around his waist, 
but it seemed to be more of surprise, because once he became 
accustomed to her touch, he relaxed.  Encouraged by his acceptance, she 
brought her hands up to his chest and pulled herself into his body.  
Holding him tightly, she rested her head between his shoulder blades and 
simply reveled in the stillness of the moment.  All that she felt was in this 
embrace- comfort, strength, security, peace.  How could she ever hope to 
put it into words?

She turned her head and inhaled his scent through the cotton of his t-
shirt.

“I love this shirt,” she murmured into his back.

“I’ll wear it every day,” he answered.

Her laughter sent tremors down his spine.  The way her hands began to 
map lazy trails over his chest sent a different kind of tremor through his 
body.  She grazed her fingertips down his ribs and up again, before 
circling his chest and retreating downward.  She repeated this until it was 
as if her fingers had grown tired of the fabric obstruction between them 
and his flesh.  Meeting at his waist, her fingers gently tugged the hem of 
his shirt from his jeans until there was enough room for her hands to 
venture inside.

He growled his approval as her hands met his skin and they resumed 
their exploration of his chest.  There was a long moan of pleasure, and 
she was shocked to find it came from her.  And now, as if she finally had 
had enough of the glacial movements and decisions that had dictated her 
life for so long, suddenly things weren’t moving fast enough for her.

Her hands met once again at his waist, but this time, they didn’t stop 
there.  Instead, they continued down, fingertips tracing the line of his 
zipper.  This time, the long moan came from him.

She felt him grab her wrists, stopping her.  “Dana.”

He turned to face her, and saw the embarrassment in her eyes.  Realizing 
what she thought, he softly amended, “That’s not what I mean.”  When 
she wouldn’t look at him, he bent his knees and tilted his head under her 
gaze.  “Hey.  That’s not what I mean.”  She raised her eyes to him.  
Resting his forehead on hers, he whispered, “Dana.  My sweet Dana.  I 
just wanna make sure it’s what *you* mean.”

Gently removing her wrists from his grasp, she reached down to the hem 
of his t-shirt and began lifting it.  “I want this shirt,” she claimed.

His hands reached down and met hers.  Crossing his arms, he grabbed 
the hem and lifted the shirt over his head.  He bunched it up into a ball 
and tossed it over to where her suitcase stood in the corner.

“It’s yours,” he relinquished, which caused her to smile.  Cupping her 
face in his hands once more, he looked down at her and solemnly 
pledged, “Whatever you want.  Anythin’ you want.”

His raw admission nearly broke her heart, but what else did she expect 
from this man besides the very truth?  It was all he was.  He was offering 
her the world, his heart, and anything and everything in between.  All she 
had to do was ask.

Despite whatever Pandora’s Box it might open- fear, joy, insecurity, 
possibility- she discovered she could sum up everything she wanted in 
one simple request.  Bringing his hands back up to her face, she turned 
her head and kissed his palm.  Not once breaking eye contact, she took a 
step into that new day.

“You,” she said.  “Just you.”

*

-end