From: spookycc Date: Fri, 22 Mar 2002 22:54:46 GMT Subject: NEW: Roadkill 1/1 by spookycc Source: atxc Title: Roadkill Author: spookycc Classification: V, A, DRF. Very much not "H", despite the title Rating: Prolly PG-13, same as the eps Spoilers: Provenance, Providence Summary: missing scenes, post-ep, Provenance, Providence. POV shifts between first person Reyes and third-person Skinner. Dedication: To Doggett's Bitch: best friend, mentor, beta, soulmate. And to Girlassassin, survivor and dear friend - gettin' a better tan than me right now. ;-P Archival: I'll take care of Gossamer and Ephemeral. Anyone else who wants it is welcome to it - just let me know where it's going. XFMU, DTA & OBSDS member sites, it's yours if you want it, no notification needed. Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine. Especially not Sweet Willie the Mobile Turner. ;-/ Feedback: Love it. spookycc@earthlink.net > **** Scully gives me cryptic directions, telling me only a half-block or so ahead of time when I need to turn. I might have worried about that once, before I grew to know her better. In this instance, I think she herself is closely looking at street signs, in an area we don't often visit in our jobs. My eyes are drawn time and time again to the rear view mirror. No sign of John. He *said* he'd be right behind us. He doesn't even know where we're going. We pull into an alley, and I glance warily in both directions, then behind us. No easy means of escape, if someone tries to trap us here. I hope Scully knows what she's doing. I hope John can find us if we need him. We park the car in front of a beat-up old VW minivan. The Lone Gunmen. I should have known. This seems just like the type of place they'd choose for a rendezvous. I force a nervous smile, as Dana places her child in their hands for safekeeping. She kisses William gently, trying to say farewell, at least for now. The sad scene pulls at my heart. I like kids. I'd like to have kids - but the man I would choose to be their father is selflessly devoted to Dana Scully. A woman who will probably never look at him twice. Not the way he looks at her. I've heard a few of the more derisive agents in the bullpen, calling John a "sap", or "Mr. Spooky". John has always pretended that it doesn't bother him. He takes it in stride. He does it for her, without question. I wonder if she even realizes that he'll always be there to catch her if she falls. No wonder that my thoughts dwell on John. Worry still preys on my mind. Where is he? Byers holds William gently - oddly enough, it looks like he might have been a father, as comfortable as he seems with the child in his arms - safety seat and all. I can't quite picture Langly or Frohike seeming as much at ease with the boy. They hand us six cell phones, essentially disposable, since we'll only be able to use each one once. These "geeks" never cease to amaze me with their technical prowess. But I hope they haven't bitten off more than they can handle in this case. Still I keep looking behind us, expecting John to walk up and give us hell for making it so hard to follow us. Or expecting a member of that UFO cult to try to kidnap William. Dana kisses William one last time, and turns to me with tears shining brightly in her eyes. I nod a reassurance - she's doing the right thing. We get back in the car, to retrace our path back to her apartment... > **** "Shit!" Skinner cursed and pulled the steering wheel hard, just missing an SUV speeding in the opposite direction. He'd spoken to Doggett on his cell, minutes before, and knew that John was headed to Agent Scully's apartment. Skinner was trying to beat him there; he had intelligence from Comer's last communiqu. Information he wasn't yet comfortable giving Doggett - but news he felt that Scully needed to know. He'd just straightened out his vehicle's path when he noticed something in the street ahead. No, not something - some*one*. He floored the brakes, threw his car sideways across the street to block traffic, flipped on his flashers, and leapt out. This couldn't be a coincidental traffic mishap. His X-Files agents were just not that damned lucky. Skinner's thoughts were dead on. He ran to the body, already taking in the fact that the man was wearing a trench coat. "Damn!" Skinner pulled out his cell and hit "911". It was Agent Doggett. He'd undoubtedly just had a run-in with the SUV that had narrowly missed Skinner's own car. Skinner knelt beside his fallen agent. He laid a hand on Doggett's neck, and sighed relief. His pulse was strong. But blood covered the left side of his forehead - probable concussion, Skinner knew from bitter experience - and he was unconscious. God only knew what kind of internal injuries he had. Skinner remembered how fast the SUV had been going. And there were no tire marks on the pavement near Doggett's body to indicate that the driver had even attempted to slow down. Skinner sighed again, pulling Doggett's coat open gently, reassured by the agent's fairly even breathing. Of all Skinner's head-strong agents, it was this one, the non-believer, who almost always got caught in the crossfire. Fiercely protective of Agent Scully, this wasn't the first time Doggett had placed himself in the line of fire for she and William, and it almost certainly wouldn't be the last. The sirens pulled Skinner from his thoughts. Two police cars and an ambulance squealed to a stop on either side of him. He stood back, out of the way, but close enough to answer questions from the EMTs. He watched as they did a vitals check, and slid an oxygen mask over Doggett's face. They put a block behind his neck and put him on a board to stabilize his spine, before sliding the board onto a gurney. Skinner gave the EMTs the information they needed, and assured them that he would contact Doggett's next of kin. That was something that Doggett *had* changed - from Dana Scully to Monica Reyes. He'd changed it when Scully went on maternity leave. Skinner wondered if Doggett would change it back - or if he would ever see how much more concerned Agent Reyes had *always* been about him. Scully was a new mother, and her heart had fled the city with Mulder. Reyes was intensely affected by Doggett - perhaps maybe even in an un-partnerly way, Skinner mused. He turned to speak to one of the detectives who'd arrived shortly after the squad cars... > **** As we round the corner near Dana's apartment, the worrisome feeling in my stomach tightens like a clenched fist. Red and blue lights flicker over the surrounding buildings and bathe the street in a surreal glow. I jump out of the car as soon as I stop it - Dana is right behind me. I catch sight of A.D. Skinner. "What happened?" I ask him, although a part of me already knows damned well what's wrong, or at least who is involved. Skinner says nothing. "Is it John?" Oh god, it's John. I can tell just by Skinner's expression, and the way he looks over his shoulder, toward the EMS. He offers me no other answers. I run to the ambulance, where they are just preparing to load the gurney inside. I push my way to his side. I don't want to delay them but I have to *be* there, I have to be with John... "Ma'am?" I look up at the concerned EMT beside me. "Ma'am, we need to get him to the hospital, as soon as we can." "I'm his next of kin," I tell them, as though that offers me carte blanche. I stand aside while they load the gurney, and then follow them into the back of the ambulance. I don't wait for any argument from them, and they don't offer one. I try to stay out of the way, while the EMTs start an IV and hook John up to the oxygen unit in the vehicle. It all happens so fast, and I don't have time to focus, and I *need* to focus. I need to focus... my hand struggles blindly and finally finds his and I'm shocked to find that it's cold... so cold... I rub it gently, and then more insistently, *willing* him to wake up... "How is he?" I ask one of the medical technicians, while the other rechecks John's vital signs. "Too early to tell," he replies. "He hasn't regained consciousness yet, so we can't tell how serious the concussion is. He may have internal injuries, too. We'll need the diagnostic equipment at the hospital to let us know." I nod, bereft, scared sick, disheartened and frightened beyond words. "He's pretty much holding his own," the EMT tries to encourage me. "That's a good sign." I sit with John's hand in mine, watching over his too-still form. I could almost believe he is sleeping, except for the blood and the bruises on his face. There is no pain to be read in his expression, but that only means he can't feel anything. I'm scared out of my mind that he's *not* feeling anything. I need something - at least some sign of pain might show me that he can come back to me. I can't bear not knowing. Why him? Why always him? Traditional or not, I find myself bargaining with God. Take someone else. Not John. Take *me*. The EMT gives me another hopeful glance. All he can see is a sad, grieving partner. Inside, I'm begging and bargaining - and losing hope. > **** St. Mary Medical Center The doctors' words echo in my mind, unbidden. "He may never wake up." I know that they have to prepare people for the worst; it's their job. But I can't accept that. I *won't* accept it. No more quiet, easy chats in his truck outside my apartment? No more relaxing Friday dinners in DC? John knows the best places. They're not in the 'Triple A' guide book but they always have good food. Truck stops sometimes. I will *never* lose that. I can't imagine not seeing his skeptical looks when I suggest a paranormal explanation for a case. I've become so used to them now. Perhaps I took them for granted, and now they are being taken away. No - I can't let myself think like that now. I have to think positively. I sit beside John's hospital bed, his cold hand wrapped in the warmth of my own. His hands are too cold - it's like death is already staking a claim on a small part of him. I keep remembering the parallel universe - another Doggett in another hospital bed, injured even more seriously than he is now. But that wasn't *real*. And at least I could communicate with him, then. The hazy images are replaced by the reality before me. I run my fingers down the side of his face, taking care to avoid the cuts and bruises. "John." My voice breaks. I try to stop the first few tears from coming, but they won't be held back. > **** I look through the stained glass window before me. My breathing has finally slowed. When I went to John's room and found it empty, I was so sure. so sure he was gone. They'd sent him down for a CAT scan. I hope it tells us more than we know now. No swelling, but no signs of consciousness, either. Why won't he wake up? Once again I try to broker deals with a God I don't speak too often enough. I know He hears me - but I can't help thinking that He'd be justified in ignoring me, as I've so often done with Him. Dammit, it's not for me. If anyone deserves His help, it's John. So damned selfless. Why didn't he tell us about the woman in the SUV? No. that wouldn't be John. He sent us along ahead, said it was "probably nothing". Nothing. I hear the door open behind me, and lift my head hopefully. Maybe they have *good* news about John. It's Brad Follmer. A vulture from my past, come to take advantage of the situation. Sadly, I let him pull me into a hug. But my thoughts are far away, with John. > **** Scully and I race from Agent Comer's room - minus the relic he wrestled from us. We find ourselves in the chapel once more. It's not really a refuge this time - I try to convince Dana to tell the FBI the truth, but she thinks everyone is against us. The God that I believe in would never order the death of a child. I think Agent Comer was lying. But I *do* believe, as Dana does, in the power of the relic that healed him. I need to find that relic. We need it, to help William. I need it to help John. Skinner taps on the chapel door before opening it. And he tells us that Agent Comer is dead. I run with Skinner to Comer's room. He's dead, but he was very much alive when we left him. I accuse the man who interrupted Scully and I in the room, but no one will believe me. They think we killed him. I need Dana. I turn, but she is gone. I jog, yelling her name, down the hospital corridor. Skinner and the others wait for her to corroborate my story. I know where to find her. The hallway near John's room is quiet, in stark contrast to the one I just left. I push his door open, and see Scully sitting beside his bed. I wish he was awake - I know what it would mean to him to know she's here. A closer look, and I pull in a quick breath. John *is* awake. Scully looks almost guilty, that John awoke in her presence, rather than in mine. What does it matter? He's awake. She lingers with a hand on his shoulder, then moves from the bed as she pulls her cell phone from her pocket. I didn't even hear it ring. I rush to his bedside, willing it to be true, praying it's not my imagination playing cruel tricks yet again. It isn't. John focuses his attention on me for a moment, and in that time I see him realize what I've been through. Like it's anything in comparison to what he's just endured. He smiles up at me, a sheepish smile, a silent apology for worrying me. It's so "John" to apologize for my angst, even though he is the one wounded. Dana pulls me from my thoughts. The call was about her son - she needs my help. I look back down to John, and he nods his approval. Of course he will let me go, without question, since he can't go with her himself. I bring his hand to my face, brush my lips across his fingers in a gentle kiss. Then we leave him alone. > **** The chapel is quiet as I enter it once again. Not begging this time, not bargaining. But praying, still - giving thanks. The subject of my prayers is already seated, and I sit beside him. I let him know I'm ready to take him home. He flashes a little smile. John says a voice in his head told him to get up, to warn Scully. Confusion plays across his face, shrouds his eyes. He asks if it was me who talked to him. It wasn't me. I believe. I believe it was one much more powerful than either of us. ~fini~ Author's Note: The title was taken from a "Rejected Dialogue" line from "Providence": Scully (at Doggett's bedside): I didn't mean for this to happen. I also didn't mean to run away in front of my apartment the other night, leaving you on my street like roadkill. --spookycc Shameless plug: Co Executive Producer, Virtual Season Ten Season Premiere July 7, 2002 http://www.snarkyroxy.com/vs10/