Violation

Title: Violation
Author: J.S. Michel
E-mail: [email protected] 
Web: www.geocities.com/js_michel/
Classification: Challenge fic (see author's notes).
Keywords: Doggett/Reyes.  
Spoilers: Season 9.
Rating: G
Archive: Please ask, so I know where it's going. 
Disclaimer: They belong to Chris Carter. 
Feedback: Always welcome.
Written: March 8, 2003
Summary: Long-lost mail.

--

Years later, when she finally found the letter, her hands shook as 
she opened it.  A bit of her past, John's past, materializing 
unexpectedly in an overlooked pocket of her tattered jacket...

Monica waited until the quiet hum of the desert evening had set in; 
waited until he was sprawled on the lumpy couch with the sports 
section from last week's "La Cronica de hoy" before handing him the 
envelope.  

He fished out the yellow scrap of paper, looked up at her in 
disbelief, and the memory of that long-ago night came flooding back 
to her once again...  

--

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" she asked as he pulled up in 
front of her apartment.  

He shook his head.  "It's late.  I'll just walk you up a minute." 

Dinner had been continental, mid-priced.  Not too casual, not too 
formal, not too intimate.  A safe choice.

She couldn't remember the restaurant's name, could barely recall 
what she'd eaten.  But the conversation had flowed comfortably and 
they'd managed to avoid the dreaded First Date awkwardness.

Dinner wasn't the point, anyway; they'd eaten together hundreds of 
times. Tonight was more like a respectful formality, a rite of 
passage.  This man had been married for nearly a decade once and the 
whole dating concept probably ranked one notch below prostate 
surgery, but John Doggett played by the book.

"You're going to get ticketed," she warned as she shut the passenger 
door.

"Just be a minute," he assured her.

Yes, John, you mentioned.

They reached the front steps.  She pulled out her key, turned 
expectantly to face him.  "Thanks for dinner," she smiled dutifully.  
"I had a nice time."

The age-old routine brought a hint of amusement to his face;  his 
eyes narrowed, steely blue in the cold fluorescent lighting.  "Yeah, 
me too."  

He leaned in close and kissed her.  No tongue.  But his mouth left 
no room for misunderstanding and she knew he was making sure neither 
of them could look back and misfile the evening as platonic or else 
he might actually have to go through this whole First Date thing 
again.

She focused on his face as he pulled away.  "You sure you don't want 
to come up?" she murmured innocently.  She was toying with him now; 
knew it wasn't what he'd planned. 

"Don't wanna get ticketed," he reminded her with a smile.  "See you 
Monday?" He didn't move, though, waiting for her to get into the 
safety of her building. 

His field, his rules: You don't jump a woman on the First Date. 

She told herself she should just be relieved they were off the bench 
at last.  His hard-wired concept of respect was one of the things 
that had attracted her to him in the first place, wasn't it? Surely 
she could wait one more week for Date Number Two...

"I'd like you to come up for coffee," she repeated, just softly 
enough.  

He hesitated.  She could feel his resistance wavering.

"Come up for coffee and I'll pay the damn parking ticket, John," she 
muttered.

He blinked.  She could practically see him re-framing the evening in 
his mind.

"I'll just move the truck..." he began but she kissed him again and 
when they finally wandered out for a late breakfast she plucked the 
flapping yellow tag out from under his windshield wiper and ignored 
his protest.  

"Small price to pay," she murmured.  And she'd meant it.  Really.

--

Of course the fact that they'd spent the next few weeks testifying 
for Mulder and then breaking him out of that military prison had 
wreaked havoc with her bill-payment system.  Not to mention the fact 
that they'd been in hiding in Mexico ever since, but...

"I could've sworn I'd mailed this," she gazed at him contritely as 
the parking ticket lay accusingly on the pock-marked coffee table 
alongside her long-expired check. 

"You're sayin' I've had an outstandin' parking violation for over a 
decade?" he grumbled.

She drew him close, nuzzled his neck with gentle affection.  "Don't 
worry, I doubt the Bureau bothered adding it to your rap sheet." 

He studied her with wounded amusement for a moment.  "It was the one 
part of my past I'd hoped might still be respectable," he finally 
sighed, abandoning the Spanish sports section as she moved to make 
amends.

--

Author's notes:

This story was written in response to a "first line" Why Incision 
challenge ("Years later, when she finally found the letter, her 
hands shook as she opened it.") to see where different authors might 
take an identical starting point.  This is where it took me -- what 
can I say except I guess I wasn't feeling very angsty that night.  
:)

I'm the compulsive nit-picking type by nature but, in order to 
remain true to the exercise, I've ignored the urge to go back and 
change anything. The only thing I allowed myself to fiddle with was 
the title (it went from "untitled" to "Respect" to "Violation" in 
the twenty-four hours following its original posting on WI).

Thanks for reading!  Feedback is welcome as always.

J.S. Michel 
www.geocities.com/js_michel