Title: Two Such Men Author: Horatio Category: V, A, Post-ep, MSR, M/S/D friendship Spoilers: The Truth Summary: Doggett makes one last stop before leaving New Mexico. Rating: PG Archive: XFMU; anything else, just let me know so I can visit. Disclaimer: Characters from the X-Files are the property of Ten-Thirteen Productions and the Fox Television Network. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this endeavor. Feedback: Horatio1013@aol.com Website: www.geocities.com/horatio_fic/ Thanks to Meridy for her excellent suggestions, and to Amanda for just being there, as always. ******** "Did ever a woman have two such men?" - Marian Starrett in "Shane," by Jack Schaeefer ******** Two Such Men by Horatio John Doggett stepped out of the office of the Cactus Court Motel into the gray New Mexico dawn. High above his head a few stars winked valiantly in the departing darkness. He surveyed the rooms to his right. In front of room 7 was a black Ford Excursion. Bingo. The motel owner, a balding East Indian man, had been wide- eyed as he stared at the F.B.I. badge of Special Agent John Doggett. Nervous as he examined the xeroxed photograph Doggett placed on the counter. Yes, Mr. Patel said, this man had checked in last night. In room 7. With a woman? Yes. Then the questions had come. He is a criminal, this man? Right here in my motel? Is he dangerous? And finally, when Patel noticed the gun on Doggett's hip: Will there be shooting? Doggett snorted lightly as he stood looking toward room 7. "Shoo-ting," the man had pronounced it. No, he had assured Mr. Patel, there would be no shoo-ting. No violence in his motel. The suspect would go quietly. Doggett inhaled deeply and let it out. The desert air was chilly this early. Too early to be rousting people out of bed. He twisted his neck and flexed his shoulders. But having come this far. . . He headed toward room 7. ******** Doggett rapped his knuckles softly on the door. Silence. He looked over his left shoulder to the eastern horizon, where pink tendrils were beginning to color the clouds. Off to his right rose a pair of golden arches. Motels, some with their "No Vacancy" signs still illuminated, made up the rest of the scenery on this part of route 70. "Roswell," he murmured. "Of all the fucking places." He knocked gently again. This time the curtains on the window next to the door twitched. Then there was the sound of the bolt lock being turned slowly and quietly. The door opened a few inches, and through the space a pair of hazel eyes peered at Doggett. "What are you doing here?" Mulder whispered in surprise. His face had that slack, not-quite-awake look, but behind the sleepy gaze was a tense wariness. Doggett could see beyond him into the room, where a person was curled under the sheet of the lone bed. A white shoulder and arm lay outside the covers, red hair splayed against the pillow. On the other side of the bed the sheet had been thrown back, and the pale arm stretched across the now empty space. Doggett's gut tightened. "Sorry to disturb you, Agent Mulder," he said, keeping his voice low. "But you and Agent Scully need to get out of here." Mulder had noticed the flick of Doggett's glance, and shifted slightly so his body blocked the view into the room. Casting a suspicious look up and down the motel parking lot, he said, "Are you alone?" "Of course I am," Doggett answered impatiently. Mulder stepped out onto the walkway, closing the door behind him but not latching it. He was shirtless and barefoot, his jeans having been hastily pulled on, the top button still unfastened. He held a gun, barrel down, alongside his thigh. "How did you find us?" "I'm a trained investigator, remember. Your trail wasn't hard to follow." Mulder blanched. He reached across his chest and gripped his other arm, hugging himself against the chill. "If I can find you," Doggett said with urgency, "others can, too. You've got to get out of here, Agent Mulder. Disappear. Maybe leave the country. Agent Reyes knows people in Mexico you could stay with." Mulder was quiet as he considered this. Behind him the door opened. "Mulder?" Scully stood in the doorway, a thin white robe gathered around her body. The sun chose that moment to peek over the horizon, tinting Scully's skin golden and turning her hair to flame. She pulled her robe more tightly closed upon seeing their visitor. "Agent Doggett," she said with soft surprise. "Agent Scully." "What's going on?" she asked him. "What are you doing here?" Mulder answered her question. "Agent Doggett has come to let me know I've been sloppy." "Now, wait--" Doggett began to object. "No, it's true. I've been asleep at the wheel." Mulder turned to Scully. "We're too easy to find. We need to get out of here." Scully looked up and down the motel court with the same wariness Mulder had exhibited. "Let's talk inside." Closing the door behind them, Scully said, "You can put the gun away, Mulder." Mulder looked at the gun as though he had forgotten it was in his hand. He placed it on the table. Scully gave Doggett a smile. "I'm glad you made it out okay. We were wondering." "Monica and I wondered the same about you two." "Where is Agent Reyes?" asked Scully. "I dropped her at Albuquerque airport," he said. "She's on her way back to D.C., which is where I'm headed as soon as I leave here." "And you're here because. . .?" Scully said. Doggett felt his neck grow warm. Now that he was here, he regretted his intrusion into this intimate space, the early hour, the disruption of their privacy. He cleared his throat slightly. "I wanted to see if I could pick up your trail, make sure you guys were all right. And now -- now I want both of you to get the hell out of here before anyone else finds you." Scully took a step closer to Mulder, who was observing Doggett thoughtfully. "Mulder," she said, "I thought we'd be presumed dead." "I'm pretty sure they think they killed us, Scully." Doggett gave a shake of his head. "You can't count on it. If they look for your remains in those ruins and don't find them--" "They could sniff us out as easily as you did," finished Mulder. Scully said tightly, "We have to get out of here." Mulder picked up a T-shirt from the floor and drew it on. "I think we've established that." He jammed his feet into his sneakers. "We should pack. And we'll need to lose the car, get another. But first--" He looked at Doggett. "Have you eaten recently, Agent Doggett?" Taken aback, Doggett answered in the negative. Mulder moved toward the door. "I'm going to get us some food." "Agent Mulder, you don't have to--" But Mulder was already at the door. "Breakfast is the most important meal of a fugitive's day," he said. And with a grin, he was gone. ******** Scully let out a sigh as the door closed. Doggett opened his mouth to speak, shut it again. He looked around the room. At a man's dark blue shirt tossed on the floor. At the rumpled bed. At the night stand, on which lay a map of New Mexico, a pair of reading glasses, and a condom wrapper. He quickly looked away. Scully tightened the belt of her robe. "John," she began, but Doggett interrupted her. "I needed to know you were all right," he blurted out in a gruff voice. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor. "Now that I know, I'll go." "Please don't go yet," she said, touching his sleeve. "I was worried about you, too." "I was gonna leave with Monica, but I couldn't go back to D.C. not knowing." Scully smiled at him. "So that business about tracking us down to warn us. . .?" He gave her a sheepish look. "Well," he said, "you *were* too easy to find. Someone had to kick you outta here." She huffed lightly. "I'm glad you came. I'm glad to see you after what happened at the ruins." Doggett looked around the small, slightly shabby room. Was this the life she would be living from now on? He felt a tightening in his chest. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked her. "Yes," Scully said. "I'll be all right." "Good," he said. "Good." But he didn't feel good. "Do you know what you'll do now?" he asked. Scully stooped to pick up the shirt from the floor. She held it in her hands almost tenderly, then laid it on the bed. "Not exactly. I don't know what shape our lives will have." She looked solemn. "It will be hard. There are things. . ." She trailed off. "Things?" "Things you don't know. Terrible things." Doggett felt suddenly cold. "Can you tell me?" "No." He felt annoyance prick at him. "You still don't trust me?" "Of course, I do!" Her eyes blazed. "It's just -- I don't want you to be compromised. Not yet. We still need to sort things out." The prickliness inside him subsided. He had never been able to be angry at her for long. Scully's brows drew together in concern. "I hope you haven't jeopardized your career because of us." "Nah, I don't think so," he said, and began to recite, "Agent Reyes and I pursued a fugitive and his accomplice to a remote New Mexico location, where we found only a smoldering rubble. The suspects are presumed dead." Scully gave him a faint smile. Doggett ran his hand through his hair. "But after everything that's happened," he said, "after what they did to Mulder. . . well, I'm thinkin' of resigning, Dana." Scully looked distressed. "Oh, John. No. Please don't give up." "I dunno," he said. "They're all a bunch of lying, murdering sons-a-bitches." His jaw tightened as the rage began to surge again. Everything he had believed in, everything he had worked for. . . Scully cast her eyes down as though unable to dispute his assertion. Doggett sucked in his anger and shifted restlessly on his feet. His eyes darted to the bed and away again. What the hell had he been thinking, coming here? "I should go," he said. "Let you pack." "Whoa!" Scully grabbed his arm as he turned away. Her small fingers were insistent around his biceps. "You look exhausted. You've been driving all night, haven't you?" Doggett didn't answer. Scully's hand slid down his arm to his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Stay and eat something before you go," she urged him. He held her hand for a moment, enjoying the warmth. Her blue eyes were luminous in her lightly sunburned face. Her breasts rose and fell under the thin robe. The room felt suddenly too small. Doggett released her hand. "All right. But I'll need to wash up." In the bathroom he leaned wearily on the counter. Next to the sink lay lipstick and mascara, a man's razor, and a hairbrush tangled with strands of red hair. Doggett closed his eyes for a moment. The cold water felt good on his face. ******** When Doggett emerged from the bathroom, Mulder was pulling food out of bags. Scully had found an orange juice and was poking a straw through the lid. Doggett dug a slip of paper out of the pocket of his jeans and handed it to Mulder. "Here are the names Monica gave me. She says she trusts these people with her life." He explained to Scully about Monica's contacts. "Maybe we should consider this, Mulder," Scully said to her partner. Mulder nodded as he took the paper. "I agree." To Doggett he said, "We've had some other ideas, too." He stopped. "I don't think I should say more. The less you know, Agent Doggett, the better it will be for you." Doggett frowned, but nodded his agreement. Even knowing Mulder and Scully were alive could be dangerous knowledge. "Sit here, Scully," Mulder said, gesturing to one of the two chairs. "That's okay," Scully said, giving his arm a squeeze. "I'm going to take a shower in a second." The men sat. "Whatever you guys decide," Doggett said, "if you need any money. . ." A hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Mulder made arrangements last year," Scully said. "We're fine on that end. But thank you, Agent Doggett." He looked up at her and returned her smile. Mulder sat watching them as he unwrapped his sandwich. "Sure you don't want to eat, Scully?" "I will after my shower," Scully said. "Don't leave before I'm done," she told Doggett as she headed for the bathroom. Doggett watched her go, then began to eat hungrily. "You're a man after my own heart, Agent Mulder," he said. Mulder gave him an odd look. Doggett held up the sandwich. "Sausage McMuffin." The other man's expression shifted, as though he had expected Doggett to say something else, and he chuckled. "I didn't think you'd want yogurt." "You got that right." From the bathroom came the sound of the shower and the curtain sliding across the rod. As if the sounds were a cue, Mulder put down his sandwich and looked across the table at Doggett. "I don't know how this will be for Scully," he said, his voice barely more than a murmur. "Living like this -- on the run, hiding. Cut off from her family. She's already lost so much." Doggett blinked. Scully had never been a topic of conversation between them, a discretion for which Doggett had been grateful. Now he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I think Agent Scully is right where she wants to be," he said quietly. Mulder considered this in silence. Hoping this had put an end to further confidences, Doggett bent to his meal. But presently he became aware that the other man was studying him. Doggett looked up, raising his eyebrows in inquiry. "If they learn I'm alive," Mulder said, "they'll try to kill me again." He spoke matter-of-factly, and Doggett's stomach contracted a little. Even so, talk of death he could handle. "You're a smart man," Doggett said. "You stayed out of harm's way most of last year. You and Agent Scully can disappear so they won't find you." "Possibly. But I want you to know that if anything happens to me. . ." Mulder hesitated. Doggett waited, watching the other man intently. He wasn't sure where this was going, but some instinct told him he wouldn't like it. "Nothin's gonna happen to you, Agent Mulder." He spoke the words with a conviction he hoped would make them true. "It's just Mulder now," the man said wryly. He drank some of his coffee, then put down his cup and was quiet for some time. "But if it does," he resumed, and Doggett felt his skin prick again, "it's reassuring to know you'll be around to watch over her." Doggett stopped in mid-bite, stunned into immobility. He couldn't look at the other man's eyes. Afraid of what he might see there. Swallowing with difficulty, he said, "Agent Scully does a pretty good job of takin' care of herself." "Yes, she does. But that's not what I meant." The air became very still in the room. Doggett heard the water continuing to run in the shower. Outside a car door slammed and an engine roared to life. "Someone who cares," Mulder said after a moment. Keeping his face blank, Doggett laid his sandwich carefully on the paper wrapper. He took up a napkin and wiped his mouth. He thought about objecting to Mulder's implication, of denying it. But he knew it would be an insult to the other man's intelligence. A man who had spent his life searching for the truth knew it when he saw it. Doggett's mouth was as dry as the desert outside the window. He stood suddenly. Pulling aside the curtain, he squinted at the brightness. "It's gonna be hot as hell today," he said. Outside, two more cars pulled out of the motel parking lot and continued on their summer vacations. Happy people with happy lives. Behind him paper rustled. Doggett realized with a start that the shower had been silent for several minutes. He felt Mulder's eyes boring into his back. He blew out air, turned around. . . and the tightness inside him uncoiled. The eyes gazing back at him held nothing of what he'd expected: resentment, jealousy, possessiveness. Instead, he read in the other man's expression only understanding. Calm acknowledgment of an elemental fact. Mulder leaned back and, with a flick of his wrist, pitched the wadded wrapper into the wastebasket. Then he returned his gaze to the man standing by the window. With his ear tuned to the quiet behind the bathroom door, Doggett said in a low voice, "Let's hope it never comes to that." Mulder's eyes never left his. He looked expectant. Doggett rifled through his mind for the words the other man seemed to want to hear. He added, "But if it does, I'll be there for whatever she needs." Something in Mulder's face relaxed, and his shoulders rose up and down in a silent exhalation. He gave Doggett an almost imperceptible nod. Then the door to the bathroom opened. The two men watched raptly as Scully strode into the room, dressed in dark slacks and green shirt and tugging a comb through her wet hair. She halted partway into the room, her arm freezing in mid-air, looking from one pair of eyes to the other. Then she resumed her motion and crossed to the table. She rooted around in a paper bag and pulled out her yogurt. A blush had darkened her cheeks, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "What are you two starin' at?" she said softly. Neither man answered. ******** At Doggett's car, Mulder put out his hand. "Good luck, Agent Doggett." Doggett shook his hand with warmth. "You, too. And Mulder?" "Yeah?" "Take care of yourself." Mulder nodded his understanding. "I'll do my best." He began to back away. "Sorry to rush off, but I'm going to pack and shower. I'll let you finish the good-byes, Scully." Scully watched quizzically as he jogged back to the motel room. Then her jaw slackened as she realized that, for the second time that morning, he was deliberately giving them a moment alone. And realized why. And what he knew. Doggett watched her absorb this knowledge in the space of a few seconds. The parted lips, the brow furrowed in thought, the little huff of surprise. Then she breathed in and out deeply, recovered her poise, and turned back to Doggett. Her eyes seemed brighter than before. "You're going home now?" she said, her words tinged with wistfulness. "Yeah. I'll catch a plane in Lubbock." He looked over his shoulder at the signs and arches, and beyond them to the great empty places into which she would soon disappear. He had to ask one more time. "You'll be all right?" She seemed to understand his unspoken fear, and gave him a warm smile. "I'm all right, John. Really." And Doggett could see it was the truth. There was an assurance and serenity about her that was new and unfamiliar. After all the horrors of the past year, plus the nightmare they'd just endured, she stood before him radiating purpose and strength. He wondered what hidden spring she'd tapped into. Whatever it was, he felt some of it seeping into him. For a brief moment her purposefulness was muted as her eyes took on a dreamy cast. "I wish--" Scully said, and stopped. Doggett bent his head closer to hers and asked in his deep rumble, "What do you wish?" She looked like she wished so many things, there weren't words enough. Then she pulled herself back, and her eyes refocused. "I wish you'd reconsider resigning." "I already have." That elicited another smile from her. Doggett glanced over at the room into which Mulder had disappeared, then met Scully's gaze again. "Tell me what I can do to help." Scully was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes raked his face like lasers, as if she were trying to commit every detail to memory. "Just be you, John," she said. The warmth of her look made Doggett feel light-headed. The only reply he could summon was a grunt. Somewhere on the highway a truck horn bellowed mournfully. Doggett let out a breath, brushed his knuckle against Scully's cheek, and climbed into his car. Inclining his head toward the motel, he said, "Take care of him, Dana." Once again Scully's face registered surprise. Then her eyes grew softer still. "I will," she whispered. He didn't say good-bye. As he drove away, Doggett saw in his rearview mirror the door of room 7 open and Mulder step out to meet Scully. They seemed to share a silent communication. Then she wrapped her arms around him with a kind of desperation, and he pressed his lips to her hair. Pulling his eyes from the mirror, Doggett saw Mr. Patel standing in front of the office. He stopped the car and leaned out the window. "What'd I tell ya, Mr. Patel? No shooting." The man had evidently witnessed the encounters of the past few minutes, for he no longer looked nervous. He nodded sagely and said, "No criminals either, I think." Doggett gave a wry chuckle. Patel looked down the line of rooms to number 7, the door of which was now closed. He smiled sadly. "I hope you found what you were looking for, Mr. F.B.I." Doggett didn't respond for a moment. He looked out the windshield. "I found a lot more than that, Mr. Patel." He turned onto the street and, lowering his visor against the blaze of light, drove out of the town, out where the road was straight to the horizon. End