TITLE: Impressions
      AUTHOR:PD
      ARCHIVAL: Gossamer, no thanks. Stories will be housed at my site only. If 
      you'd like to link, I'd love it, but please drop me note with a heads up.
      DISCLAIMER:If they were mine, I wouldn't feel slightly guilty every time I 
      wrote about them, now would I? Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. 
      CLASSIFICATION: SHRA, MSR 
      RATING:PG-13
      SPOILERS:Through "Requiem." There are no known spoilers for anything 
      post-"Requiem" here.
      SUMMARY: Doggett, nodding through his own process of evaluation, was 
      immediately struck by and envious of Mulder's relaxed and casual attitude. 
      In jeans, bare feet and a t-shirt, he belonged here. 
      All stories can be found at http://pages.sbcglobal.net/syzygial/
      FEEDBACK: I'd be most pleased.  syzygial@sbcglobal.net
      AUTHOR'S NOTES: Though it can stand alone, this story follows Lullaby 
      Voice and the events therein. Mix and match at your discretion.


      Impressions 
       
      By PD 
        
      Scully's Apartment
      Friday, March 23, 2001
      Day 202
      10:02 AM
      The knocking at the door roused him from his spot on the sofa where a 
      comfortable ditch had formed over the last month.
      Mulder padded across the hardwood in his bare feet. He had worked hard to 
      regain his lost strength, and his lingering weakness was revealed in only 
      a slight limp.
      Mulder opened the door to find John Doggett lost behind a somewhat 
      surprised expression.
      Mulder waited an appropriate amount of time before he became 
      self-conscious and paranoid and wiped non-existent drool from his face. 
      "Um, can I help you?" 
      Doggett shook himself from his stupor and extended his hand to the man in 
      Scully's apartment. "Fox Mulder."
      Mulder lifted a brow, unconsciously mimicking Scully and shook the man's 
      hand. "No. I'm Fox Mulder." 
      Doggett grinned and shook his head, embarrassed. "No, I mean. I know. I 
      saw you at Georgetown. You were -" Doggett gestured with his hands 
      indicating Mulder's previous state of incapacitation at the hospital. 
      "Anyway. John Doggett. I'm Dana's - I'm John Doggett. We haven't really 
      met yet."
      "That's apparent," Mulder said, amused. He shuffled to the side. "You 
      wanna come in?"
      Doggett moved into the room cautiously, stepping past Mulder as if 
      avoiding landmines. Mulder closed the door behind him. 
      "Uh, I brought some papers that Dana wanted. She said to just bring 'em 
      by." Doggett glanced around the room, nodding in general agreement with 
      everything.
      "Okay. Did you need to talk with her?"
      "No. No, that's okay. She okay?"
      "Yeah. She's asleep."
      Doggett continued to nod. "Right."
      Mulder stood across from Doggett. In the silence that followed, they 
      became lost in their scrutiny of one another. 
      Mulder's was casual, but thorough. The man before him in the gray suit was 
      slightly older, a little shorter. Not a bad looking guy in his guy-like 
      estimation. About the same build as Mulder's in his current condition. 
      Mulder had yet to bulk up.
      Doggett, nodding through his own process of evaluation, was immediately 
      struck by and envious of Mulder's relaxed and casual attitude. In jeans, 
      bare feet and a t-shirt, he belonged here.
      Both men were so involved with each other, that neither saw nor heard 
      Scully approach in her pajamas and robe.
      She stood to their sides and glanced back and forth between them. She 
      startled them out of their mutual dazes as she spoke. "You two aren't 
      about to start circling and frothing at the mouth, are you?"
      Mulder chuckled. 
      Doggett looked offended. "'Course not. I just brought you those papers."
      Mulder chuckled again. "She's kidding."
      Doggett glanced at the smile on Scully's face and relaxed visibly. "Oh. 
      Sorry."
      Scully touched Doggett's arm briefly as she slipped between them. "It's 
      okay." Realization bloomed on her face as she sat gingerly on the sofa. 
      "You haven't met yet." She massaged her protruding belly. "Oh."
      "We have now," Mulder said. "Y'okay?"
      "Mm hm."
      "You want some breakfast?"
      "Mm hm." Scully smiled at him and squeezed his hand as he moved past her. 
      Mulder glanced at Doggett. "You want a cup of coffee? Doggett, is it?"
      "Thanks, no."
      Mulder nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Scully, ignoring the 
      testosterone in the room, turned her attention to Doggett and held out her 
      hand for the folder. He handed it to her as he dropped into the armchair.
      "Thanks," she said.
      "No problem. I didn't mean to disturb you."
      "You're not, John. I asked you, remember?" 
      Doggett grinned and shrugged. He settled back in his chair and perused his 
      surroundings as Scully put on her glasses and began reading the file in 
      her lap. He'd only been to her apartment once before back when Mulder had 
      been missing. Perhaps it was the lone occupant informing her own 
      surroundings, but at that moment in time, her apartment was - sad. It was 
      messy, cold, dark. It felt lonely. He remembered he couldn't wait to 
 	leave.
      Now, while still a bit messy (he suspected it was mainly Mulder's mess), 
      it was filled with a warm light that punctured and bled into the shadows 
      in every corner. It felt more like a home than any other place he'd ever 
      been. The kind of home you wished for. Doggett smiled and sat patiently 
      while Scully rubbed her belly and read her file. 
      * * * * 
      Her eyes wandered on the page as the rumbling in her stomach pulled her 
      attention away. First, she smelled food. Bless his hard little head, 
      Mulder was going to too much trouble again. She looked over her glasses at 
      Doggett. He was glancing over his shoulder and staring at the bookcase. No 
      doubt, he was reading and memorizing the titles of all her books. His anal 
      attention to innocuous details unnerved her.
      When his lips began moving silently, reading the book titles to himself, 
      she recalled the time she was going to kill him.
      It had been another wild goose chase in her endless and fruitless search 
      for Mulder. Another lead that went nowhere. Another account of a sighting 
      that proved to be false. 
      He'd supposedly been spotted eating a delicious seafood lunch on Cannery 
      Row in Monterey, California. The idea of Mulder in a quaint little 
      restaurant hanging over the rocks and breaking waves of Monterey Bay had 
      made her want to cry. 
      Of course, it hadn't been true. She had stood by the bar and gazed out the 
      big picture windows at the ocean while her surroundings had violated her 
      senses.
      The sea birds' squawking had given her a headache. The salt air wafting 
      through the door had made her nauseous beyond belief. The band tuning up 
      on the tiny little stage had made her want to scream.
      Her feet had hurt.
      And Doggett had said, "I told you so," while he sipped something called a 
      Blue Hawaiian. "Scallops Rockefeller, my ass."
      He'd been a genuine jackass. He may have been a good man deep down, but he 
      was still a jackass, and she had resolved that she would kill him at her 
      first convenient opportunity.
      The next afternoon, Doggett had met her at Monterey's tiny airport with a 
      peace offering in the form of a sautéed lobster and crab sandwich from the 
      café at The Aquarium. It had swiss cheese and extra mayonnaise and the 
      bread was fresh.
      She'd decided to rethink his death.
      John Doggett, she'd eventually learned, had a never-ending capacity for 
      kindness. Apparently, it was his abruptness and hard-headedness before 
      every kindness that saved him from being labeled a softy.
      Scully smiled to herself and closed the folder in her lap. Doggett was 
      through gathering information on her literature of choice. Now, he was 
      picking at a scab on his arm. 
      "Stop it. You'll infect it."
      Doggett shrugged and stopped picking. "So, anything else you need?"
      Scully shook her head. "No."
      Doggett began nodding again. He glanced toward the kitchen and sniffed at 
      the air. Scully joined him. Bacon. Possibly an omelet. Hollandaise? 
      "Well, smells like you've got some eatin' to do, so I'll let you get to 
      it," he said. He rose from the chair and halted Scully with a gesture 
      before she could stand. "Don't get up. Tell uh," he started, glancing 
      toward the kitchen. "Tell Agent Mulder it was a pleasure."
      "I will." 
      "You planning on coming in anymore?"
      Scully frowned. "Yes, of course. We both are. As much as it's helping me, 
      the time I'm taking now is for Mulder. He looks better than he feels."
      Doggett nodded in understanding and continued to do so as he swept the 
      room with his eyes. "Okay. Well, I'll be going. I'll see you soon then, I 
      guess."
      Scully offered him a small smile. "John. Thank you."
      "Yeah." He managed a smile in return. "See ya."
      Scully raised her hand in goodbye as Doggett turned and left.
      She sighed, massaging her ever-growing self. She felt a kiss land on the 
      top of her head and she smiled.
      Mulder offered her a hand and pulled her up from the sofa. She followed 
      him wordlessly into the kitchen and sat before her own private feast at 
      the table. She scorched Mulder with a glare that was only partially 
      good-natured. "Exactly how much weight would you like me to gain, Mulder?"
      He chuckled as he sat down across from her with his cup of coffee. "It's 
      your own fault for telling me your secret favorites long ago, Scully. That 
      hollandaise is from scratch, by the way."
      "Mulder, I appreciate the work that went into this, but you do not have to 
      cook these - - these elaborate meals all the time. It takes energy, and 
      energy is something you're body is still sorely lacking. Take it easy. For 
      me, okay?"
      "Whatever you say, Scully," he said and sipped his coffee.
      "Thank you."
      In spite of her pronouncement, Scully ate everything in front of her: eggs 
      benedict, fried potatoes and peppers, fruit and milk.
      Mulder was on his third cup of coffee by the time she was through. She put 
      down her fork and looked lovingly at Mulder, then equally so at the hot, 
      rich liquid in Mulder's mug.
      He caught her looking and met her eyes with his. She smiled and pushed her 
      plate away. "Thank you, Mulder. It was delicious."
      Mulder's faith and trust in Scully was never more apparent when he left 
      his coffee on the table to clear her dishes. 
      With his back to her, Mulder couldn't see Scully lean over his cup and 
      inhale the strong brew. 
      "Don't torture yourself, Scully," he said without turning.
      "I'm only smelling it." She pushed the mug away from her and sat back in 
      her chair. "So, what did you think of Agent Doggett?"
      "Oh, you mean Johhhn?"
      She frowned. "Why do you say it like that?"
      Mulder chuckled and dried his hands. Scully followed him back into the 
      living room. "I'm just teasing, Scully," he said. "He seems like a nice 
      guy, I guess. A little meek, maybe."
      "Meek?" 
      Mulder shrugged and held Scully's hand as she lowered herself to the 
      couch. "First impression," he said. "He did seem a bit needy, though."
      She was genuinely surprised. "Doggett?"
      "Yeah."
      "John Doggett. The man who was just here," she intoned incredulously.
      "Scully. What? That's the impression I got. He walked in here like a 
      pimply teenager meeting his date's dad for the first time. He all but 
      pinned a corsage on your jammies there."
      Scully smiled in spite of herself. "He did not."
      "'Oh, Dana just said to bring 'em by'," Mulder whined in an exaggerated 
      impression of Doggett and laughed at himself. "He sounded like - like that 
      guy from Ghostbusters? The little guy who was always hitting on Sigourney 
      Weaver." Mulder continued laughing, amused at himself. "'We're gonna do 
      some break dancing...'" Mulder snorted with glee. He slayed himself.
      Scully smiled and patted Mulder's thigh when he sat down next to her in a 
      puddle of giggles. "Very funny, Mulder."
      Mulder's chortling died down. "I'm only kidding. Mostly."
      "He's a good agent."
      "I'm sure he is."
      Scully nodded. "He -" She glanced briefly at Mulder. "He watched my back."
      "Just as long as he didn't watch your ass," Mulder said without dropping a 
      beat. 
      Scully smiled. "Kinda hard to miss it now."
      Mulder turned to her and smiled. They sat shoulder to shoulder. "He's got 
      a little crush on you, you know."
      "You think?"
      "He might as well tattoo it on his forehead."
      "Really?" Scully grinned.
      Mulder lowered his voice an octave. "Let's not be coy, Dana."
      She laughed. "So, he's got a little crush. Does it bother you?"
      "Only my inner caveman."
      "Good." Scully closed her eyes and dropped her head against the back of 
      the sofa. "God, I'm tired."
      "Go back to bed."
      "Mm. Can't. I promised Mom I'd go shopping with her." Scully opened one 
      eye and peered at him. "Real maternity clothes. Mom hates it that I've 
      been wearing your shirts and sweatpants."
      "Well, as long as Mom is happy..."
      Scully chuckled and hoisted herself up off the sofa. "Ruffles are in my 
      future."
      "Mm. Sexy."
      Scully moved to the bedroom speaking absently to no one in particular. "If 
      I can just avoid ducks..."
      Mulder smiled and surveyed his surroundings. His home. It was warm, and 
      the sunlight pushed the shadows from the corners just as it always had.

      END