From: JaimeSN1@netscape.net (Jaime Nichols)
Date: Mon, 12 Feb 2001 19:01:24 -0500
Subject: Fic Submission
Source: direct

Title: A Different Intensity
Author: Jaimesn
Synopsis: Doggett's thoughts as he tries to write that case report
Classification: Vignette with a hint of MSR.
Rating: harmless
Spoilers: Season 8/The Gift
Disclaimer: I am not Chris Carter, nor was meant to be.
Archive: Gossamer. Anywhere else, please let me know.
Feedback: Gratefully accepted at jaimesn@netscape.net 

A Different Intensity

I'm not a sensitive man. I've always associated ambiguity with
weakness, and I've always kept clean. Part of me hopes I never find
Mulder. He complicates things. 

Although I'm grateful to A.D. Skinner for any free advice, I'm still
trying to navigate the once familiar ethical terrain of writing a
simple case report... Only it isn't so simple this time. I know full
well what an honest account of my past few days will do to my career,
to say nothing of Agent Scully's, or to what's left of Mulder's
reputation. But, more than that, I feel like I simply can't give an
account. It isn't that I don't know what I saw, or what happened to
me. It's more that its all too close to the bone. I don't want to tell
it to myself again, let alone A.D. Kersh.

Skinner's right.

I've been on the X-Files only for a few months now, and I've felt like
an interloper in a secret world for every minute of that time. I'm in
murky waters here: out of my depth. I've always liked the
straightforward efficiency of police work. Gather evidence, crunch
data, get the bad guy. I've liked the satisfying simplicity and moral
clarity of my work. Although, I can't say I gave it that much thought.
Until now. In the marines, things were simple, too. Us: good. Them:
bad. I like things simple.

Agent Scully has been kind, but in a professional way. Kind only
because she is kind. She does her job. She's a good agent. She's
trying too hard sometimes, but I can't help but respect her. Skinner
does, too. He's fiercely protective of her. Sometimes I think she
doesn't need protection, but maybe she does. I've seen her lean on
Skinner. Just the smallest little list towards his solidity. The very
smallest. I want her to believe that I'm just trying to find Mulder;
to find the truth. I think she does, but she plays her cards close.
She has a secret.

I feel like I've been treading water. These cases. They're unsolvable.
At the end of the day, there's no brass ring. I'm left with answers
that have no questions, and questions I can't even begin to ask.
Questions, and the murky confusion of how to navigate the waters in
this exclusive world where I don't belong. Scully got me a desk, but I
still feel like I'm just marking time.

When the sharp heat of the shotgun blast tore through my body- in that
moment- in the eternity of blind fire that lasted until I died; I saw
Agent Scully. I saw her alone in this office with a small pool of
light around her. I saw into the deep blue of her eyes and found
Mulder, too. I know how fragile the balance is the basement office,
and I know I tip the scales. When I woke up in the cave, I knew I
would never see through the same eyes again. I knew I was literally a
new man, reborn into this world; gifted with life by a creature that a
day ago, I would have snickered... did snicker... at the very mention
of. Now he's dead, and I feel like I'm still covered in the slime of
my new birth into this world. 

Part of me wishes I'd never even looked for Mulder.

The blank monitor mocks me. My eyes tell me Mulder is watching me. My
thoughts wander to Agent Scully, small and alone in her house. Is she
still asleep? Is she just waking up?

Skinner's right.

I'd seen Mulder and Agent Scully together in the elevator before my
assignment to the X-Files, talking to each other in hushed
confidential tones. Mulder leaning towards her, his head bent to catch
her serious whisper. I remembered Scully's grave eyes looking up at
him. Her absolute gravity and his absolute attention. I'd heard the
rumors. They'd been partners a long time. They didn't socialize with
other agents. I'd told Agent Scully that there had been women at the
Bureau Mulder confided in, but I was fishing. Mulder confided in no
one but Agent Scully, and was routinely oblivious to the heads he
turned. No one thought of approaching Agent Scully with anything but
business. Especially now. Their separateness and the fabled oddity of
their work kept them in a slipstream out of step with the main. No one
really knew them. Even Skinner took more on faith than he knew. I have
my suspicions about Agent Scully. Her silence speaks volumes. If she
felt less, she would have spoken mo! re of him. It's as if she can't
bring herself to remember him in public.

Agent Scully is circumspect. She doesn't say how much she misses him;
how much she loves him. She doesn't say how much sleep she's lost and
she doesn't tell me that she tries not to hope. I can feel it. Part of
me is angry that its eating her. Angry at him. I'm not immune to the
suffering of a good woman and I've studied their history. I know the
sacrifices she's made. Some small part of me wants to take his place
at her side. Protect her. But, I can see that every part of her has to
find him.

I've died and been reborn into this world where every emotion is at an
intensity I never imagined. Part of me wants it to be another bad
dream- even my dreams have taken on a different intensity since this
assignment. Part of me wants to go back to black and white world I've
always understood so well.

Part of me has never felt so alive.

Skinner's right. Leave it alone. I need a cup of coffee.

FINIS

Special thanks to GoldX- awesome fic-ster in her own right for giving
me all the best pointers.

Feedback of any kind gratefully accepted.
jaimesn@netscape.net