Title: _The Essence of Existing_
Author: Karen (snarky_freak@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG/PG-13
Keywords: Reyes.  Doggett.  Reyesfic/Doggettfic.  
Reyes!  Reyes!  Reyes!  Doggett!  Doggett!  Doggett!
Summary: 'It wasn't about his career anymore.  
It wasn't about his image or reputation or life.  
It was about the truth.'
Spoilers: Essence, Existence
Disclaimer: Again, they are not mine.  So, again, 
quit lookin' at me like that, `kay?
Archive: All are more than welcome, just please notify me...
Author's Note: Post season 8; written before, and in anticipation of, 
Season 9; no spoilers for the season, though.

---

"The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a 
rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall 
back of its own weight.  They had thought with some reason 
that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and 
hopeless labor...  If this myth is tragic, that is because its 
hero is conscious.  Where would his torture be, indeed, if 
at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?"

-Albert Camus, from "The Myth of Sisyphuus"

---

"He took it pretty well," she breathed lightly as she looked up at 
the ceiling and chewed her bottom lip.  "Didn't he?"

John Doggett arched an eyebrow and shook his head before he threw a 
rapidly withering glance at his companion.  "It's not funny."

"I never said it was."

He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep, calming breath that only 
served to make him feel worse.  "Forget it.  I just wanna get outta 
here."

"Mmm."

"Y'know, for someone who supposedly delivered a miracle baby in front 
of an audience of aliens, Monica, you're pretty damn unruffled.  Like 
you do it all the time."

"Two packs of cigarettes last night, John," Reyes interrupted him 
calmly as the elevator doors parted.  She smiled lopsidedly, made her 
way towards the basement office and looked over her shoulder at Doggett.  
"And I'm trying to quit."

"So that explains it--two packs of smokes?  And this was while you were 
writing that report for Kersh, huh?  You sure you read over that report 
this mornin'?"

"_That_ isn't funny."

Doggett gave her a one-shouldered shrug while he fumbled around in his 
pocket for the keys to the X-Files office.  "Yeah, well, none of this 
is.  None of this even makes a damn bit of sense, if you ask me."

"I know what I saw."

"Do you?  So what was it?  Why didn't they take Agent Scully's baby?  
Why did that warden do all that to Billy Miles if they're both supposedly 
in on the whole thing together?"

"Not everything has an easy explanation, John."

Doggett rudely blew air between his lips in dismissal of her defensive 
reply.  "I know that.  I'd settle for any explanation you can give me.  
But you're having enough trouble as it is comin' up with one."

Reyes watched as her companion walked over to his desk, removed his 
suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.  "What does it matter _why_ 
they didn't--"

"If the answer to that question doesn't matter to you at all, maybe 
you're in the wrong field--"

"--take the baby?  The good thing is they didn't and Agent Scully's 
okay."

They finished speaking at the same time.  They both sighed in frustration 
immediately afterwards.

She stared at him, her hazel eyes unwaveringly defiant and challenging.

He stared at her, his blue eyes unwaveringly questioning and reproachful.

He was the first to look away.  The pile of papers on his desk seemed 
so interesting and worthy of his attention all of a sudden.  Doggett 
picked up a once-forgotten report and studied it intently.  "That's 
the only good thing comin' outta this mess."

"Have you seen him yet?"

His initial reaction was to say 'who?', but he knew what she was 
talking about.

The baby.  Scully's.  Most probably Mulder's.  Most probably theirs.

Not his.

He shook his head and stared again at the clutter on his usually 
organized desktop.  "No, I haven't.  Been too busy with this whole 
thing that I haven't--"

"You should.  He's the reason why you're doing all this, isn't he?  
Why you listened to Mulder and went along with it?"

Doggett nodded once.  "Somethin' like that."

"He's beautiful, John."

"All babies are."

Reyes took his blunt comment in stride and tucked her hair behind her 
ears.  "I don't know if it's psychological--power of suggestion and 
all--but that woman you told me about?  The one from the fertility clinic?  
She was right.  Agent Scully's baby _is_ very special."

"He _should_ be, after everything that's happened."

"That's not what I meant."

Doggett crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his watch.  
Time was passing, but the day seemed to be dragging on and on and 
on...  "What _did_ you mean, then?"

She shrugged, looked past him and smiled to herself.  "He just is.  
William...  There's something about him."

"You're still goin' on about this--this whole thing with--"

"And you're still refusing to allow yourself to--"

"What?  See visions?  Feel vibes and auras?  Jesus Christ, Monica--for 
once, can't you give me something I can really work with?  Something I 
can really understand?  How about something I can accept, huh?  Is that 
too hard for you?  Or is that too simple?"  He hadn't meant to raise his 
voice like that, but now, after everything...  

He had worried about Scully's welfare, as well as her baby's, no 
question...  But now, after everything that happened...  No, scratch 
that.  Now, after everything that didn't happen, that will not and 
never will happen...  

What was left?  What was there to explain?  He had accused Kersh of 
something he wasn't entirely sure he understood or believed in 
himself...  So now what?

'Agent Scully was right.  You should have left when you had the 
chance...'

The thought was brutally chastised from his mind the second it registered.

It wasn't about his career anymore.  It wasn't about his image or 
reputation or life.  It was about the truth.

Mulder's question.  And Scully's.  And now, Monica's.

Was it his?  Did he want to know the answer?   Was he willing to work 
for it?  Pay for it?  Die for it?

'From my experience...  The truth always hurts.  It gives you nothing 
but...  Nothing.  Nothing you'd want in your life, at least.  Pain.  
Loneliness.  Guilt.  Regret...'

It hurts.

The truth hurts.

He'd known that all along.

Everything in his life hurt.  It always will.

The truth would only hurt him more.

His wife...  Wait, his _ex-wife_ used to tell him he was selfless.

She meant that in a good way.  She meant he never thought of himself first, 
but always, always...  He thought of the other person.

How odd, his ex-wife was still right about him.  He was selfless.  He is 
selfless.

But not in a good way.  He's selfless in that he doesn't know where he 
fits in, who he is anymore, who he should become.

Ouch.

The truth hurts, when you finally admit it to yourself.

Gentle hands and equally gentle fingers grasping his shoulders sucked 
him back into the vortex of reality.  The now.  The truth.

"Monica?"  His voice startled him.  Almost as much as her presence did.  
Almost as much as the warmth of her touch...  "What are you...?"  Doing?  
Here?  What are you doing here?  With me.  In all this.

"What's wrong, John?"

He shook his head and looked down at the floor.  Monica had nice shoes.  
She also had really nice legs.  He swallowed and looked up abruptly.  
"I shouldn't be here."

"This is your office--"

"It's Mulder's."

"Agent Mulder's no longer--"

"And Scully's."

"You're her partner--"

"How did I get here?"

She would have said, 'elevator', but she sensed that he was asking a 
far different question.  "How do you think you got here?"

He couldn't answer her.  He couldn't decide on an answer.

Kersh did this to me.

I was askin' for it.  

Like Mulder said, I pissed on corn flakes, and someone got real upset 
or somethin' like that.

Shit happens.  It hit the fan and I didn't duck.

I was curious.

Agent Scully's a good-lookin' woman.  My loyalty to Agent Scully 
convinced me to do this.

Agent Mulder was missing.

He knew the answers were all wrong.  None of the above.

"I did this to myself.  I let this happen."

Reyes furrowed her eyebrows and squeezed his shoulders gently.  "Any 
idea why?"

He shook his head and allowed his eyelids to droop down.  Down, down, 
down...

The drain.  To hell.

And back.  He looked at her imploringly.  "Your guess is as good as 
mine."

She smiled at that.  Slowly, like she always did.  First, her eyes would 
light up, then the corners of her mouth would curl upwards.  Then her 
lips would part to reveal her bright white teeth.  Teeth that were 
unusually white for someone who smoked almost a pack a day, two packs 
when under severe stress...  And then her dimples.  Or something like 
that.  Her smile gave her dimples that used to make him stare at her.

They still make him stare at her.  "Why do you think I'm here?"

"Hmm?"

"You heard me.  I'm the last person you'd expect down here.  So what 
am I doin' takin' up space beside a desk with alien mugs and alien 
posters and alien...  things?"

"You said you did this to yourself."

"Didn't I?  I could've walked away, but I didn't."

"Maybe you found something here that's worth looking for."

"That makes no sense.  If I found it, down here, I shouldn't be lookin' 
for it anymore."

"Just because you've found something, it doesn't mean you can keep it, 
John.  Or that it'll stay put, where you are."

"No..."

She didn't even bat an eye at his knee-jerk refusal to consider the 
possibilities of her comment.  "Suit yourself, then.  I don't know the 
answer, and neither do you.  But for the time being, you'll be here for 
a while without really knowing why."

"Thought you said earlier that 'why' doesn't really matter."

"I know it's always mattered to _you_.  You need everything explained, 
John.  No stone left unturned."

"And that's a bad thing?"  Doggett cocked his head to the side and 
regarded her intently, all the while conscious of the fact that her hands 
were still resting on his shoulders.  He didn't care; he knew how she 
was...  'Touchy-feely.'  Monica herself had said it once to him, 
apologetically.  He remembered her hand reaching out to grasp his.  
After Luke's funeral.  He had recoiled in shock.  He hadn't touched 
anyone--not even his wife... especially not his _ex-wife_--since they 
found his son's body.  The comfort her touch offered had been 
overwhelming at first...

"No.  It helped you find Mulder.  It helped you save Agent Scully 
and her baby."

"But it doesn't help me."

"Not always."

"Sometimes we're better off not askin' why."

She nodded, withdrew her hands and allowed them to rest at her sides.  
Her smile gradually faded, and she regarded him seriously, gravely.  
"Whatever's going on here with Kersh is an exception.  That's one thing 
we can both agree on."

"Yeah.  I'll be the only one wagin' this war when you leave.  And 
until you clear things up in New Orleans, and come back here...  
I'll be the only one--"

"A.D. Skinner was there with you.  He knows about this more than I--"

"He can't do this.  Not what I'm doin'.  He knows I need him up there."

"You're still not the only one.  Agent Scully... and Mulder--"

"That won't be for a while."

"You're not alone, John.  The biggest mistake you can make right now 
is to think that way."

"Yeah, I should get used to kiddin' myself, huh?"

"You're strong.  You can do this."

"Ah, but do I _want_ to?"  He walked around his desk and put on his 
suit jacket again.  "That's the question I really want answered."

Reyes gestured to his desk with her chin.  "I don't see you packing, 
if that's any indication."

He arched an eyebrow and nodded.  That was a good indication.  God 
knows, when he was first assigned to the X-Files...  He actually held 
on to the boxes he had used to carry his things down to the basement...  
Just in case.  "Drop you off at the airport?"

"No, it's okay.  I'll take a cab over there, John.  You should go home.  
Get some rest."

"Yeah, I will, but I'll give you a lift first.  I mean it; I'd hate 
having you leave this place without--"

"I'm a big girl, John.  Like it or not, you can't be selfless all 
the time."

"Yeah, you can," he mumbled under his breath as a frown creased his 
forehead.

Selfless.  There was that word again.  A nobody.  A no one.  No 
identity.

"No.  You've thought of Agent Scully all this time.  It's time to 
think about yourself for once.  You need rest."

Oh.  It was _that_ kind of selfless.  It was the one people meant in 
a good way.

He smiled slightly.  "I get in that bed, go under the covers, I won't 
wake up `til next week."  He followed her out of the office and into 
the dimly lit hallway.  "You need to get some sleep, too."

"Actually, I'm okay.  I've never felt better."

"Huh.  That's strange."

"Maybe not that strange."

"How's that?"

Reyes pushed the elevator button and ran a slender hand through her 
thick dark hair.  "I remember all of it.  Every time I close my eyes 
I see Agent Scully.  I hear her voice; I feel everything around me, 
and I'm wondering what'll happen next, how I can help her, what else 
I can do for her...  And then her baby..."

"Cryin' too," Doggett finished for her, almost wistfully.  He could 
still see the way Luke squealed and bawled in the doctor's hands.  He 
could still feel that sense of breathlessness, of awe, the second he 
held his son in his arms.  Luke had stopped crying almost immediately.  
He knew he was safe, where he was.  Doggett sighed and mumbled almost 
inaudibly.  "That's what happens when they take their first breath."  
His eyes held a distant expression that Reyes knew all too well.  

She nodded in silence.  Her hand reached out and grasped his unexpectedly.  
He didn't recoil in shock.  He knew he needed the comfort her touch was 
offering.  They stared at each other.  Neither of them looked away.

Only the chime of the elevator doors broke their gaze.  Doggett 
quickly retracted his hand and looked at his watch.  It felt like time 
had stopped.  It felt like the day had momentarily refused to drag on 
and on and on...

"You'll be okay, John."

It wasn't a question.  It wasn't a suggestion.  It was a fact.

He will be okay, because he wasn't alone.

"Yeah.  I'll be okay."

"It feels good, you know...  Hearing you say that."

He stared at the floor, but raised his eyebrows as a way of acknowledging 
her words.  He paused for a moment before he looked up at her once more.  
"Thanks for everything, Monica.  I know I dragged you here for--"

"A miracle."

He simply stared at her.

"I'm glad you called me, John.  I'm glad I was a part of it all."

"Yeah.  Whatever it was."

A miracle.  A fiasco.  A hoax.  A step closer to the truth.  An indication 
of how deep it goes.

Into the FBI.

Into himself.

The elevator doors parted and revealed the parking garage.  Doggett 
looked to the side and saw his pickup truck.  He saw Skinner's black 
Blazer a few metres down.  He grimaced at the memories it conjured.  
"Forget the cab.  The truck's right there, come on."

Reyes could only muster a one-shouldered shrug as she followed him. There 
was no point insisting otherwise, especially with John in that kind of mood.  

***

The trip to the airport was extremely quiet, save for a few words between 
them.  Initially, Doggett had asked about Scully's baby: whether he looked 
a lot like Scully or...  He bit his tongue and muttered a gruff, 'Forget it'.   
It wasn't his business to assume who the father was.  Reyes, in turn, 
answered his question tentatively, cryptically: 'He looks like his 
parents'.  He nodded in response and squinted at the road.  It was obvious 
that he was still thinking about Luke, and attempting to fight off the 
memories of his own son's birth.

'Leave the past in the past, Monica...' she reminded herself.  'Shut up 
before you say something he doesn't want to hear.  Not right now, at 
least.  Just leave it alone.  Leave him alone.'  

"What's wrong?" he asked as he pulled up into a parking stall in front 
of the airport.

"Nothing."

"You may not believe this, but I can tell when there's somethin' goin' 
on with you, too.  And it's got nothin' to do with mental telepathy, 
Monica--I've just known you long enough."  The last part of Doggett's 
remark was spoken with his eyes averted from hers.  When she did not 
reply, he squinted at her and rumbled in his deep voice.  "There 
somethin' you wanna tell me?"

She removed her seatbelt and shrugged.  'Leave the past in the past...' 
She raised her eyebrows and said the first thing that came to mind.  
"I hate airports."

"Who loves `em?"  He shot back with a grin as he opened the door on 
his side.  "I mean I--"

"Promise me you'll be careful, John."  She chewed her bottom lip 
nervously before she turned in the passenger seat to face him.  
'There.  This thing you've asked me to help you with--this thing 
with Kersh and the X-Files and these aliens you don't believe in...  
This has nothing to do with the past, does it?'

"What?"

She closed her eyes for a few seconds and shook her head.  "We're not 
sure what we're up against... What _you're_ up against.  So just be 
careful."

Doggett slammed his door shut and faced her squarely.  He rested his 
arm on the top of the steering wheel and smiled.  "Why're you talkin' 
like that?"

"Look," she sighed and started rummaging around in her coat pocket 
for a lighter and a cigarette.  "Ever since Agent Scully and I left 
the garage--right after I got here--" She stopped, lit a cigarette 
and took a long drag from it before continuing more calmly.  
"Something's felt...  Off."

"Off."

"It's not funny."

"I never said it was."

"We don't know where Crane and Rohrer are, John."

"Dollars to donuts... I'd say they're dead."

"Where are the bodies?"

"That's one of the things I'm tryin' to figure out."

"Be careful."

"You said that already.  I will.  Jesus, Monica, you're probably the 
one person who doesn't think the worst of anybody, and you're going 
on and on about this...  What the hell's gotten into you?"

"If you remember those allegations you made in Kersh's office, John, 
I'd say you already know."

"You never get this worked up, though.  I--"

"Just..." Reyes leaned forward and regarded him intently.  Her hazel 
eyes fixed him with a stare he'd never known she was capable of 
mustering.  "Take care of yourself and--"

"Be careful."  He finished for her, his eyes equally serious.  "That's 
a tall order comin' from you."

"It's not funny."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm listenin'."

She stared at a plane that was getting ready for takeoff.  "I should 
go.  Or else I'll miss my flight."

"Yeah."

She opened her door and climbed out of the truck effortlessly.  "Look, 
I'll try to get back as soon as I can.  Call me any time and let me 
know how you're doing, John."

"I will."  He watched her put out her cigarette expertly.  "Hey--why 
don't I see you off?"

"Considering the circumstances?" She flipped her hair away from her 
face and grinned sheepishly at him.  "That would be too romantic," 
she closed the door and added more lightly, "and Dave might get jealous."

"Who's Dave?"

"My boyfriend."

"In New Orleans?"

She nodded.  "My _only_ boyfriend," she emphasized before adding, 
"I don't have one in every major city, you know.  God, you make it 
sound like I'm--"

"Is it serious?"  He couldn't help looking away from her as soon as 
he asked...  He couldn't help blushing at his question and the tone 
of his voice; it was so impulsive, so reactionary, so...  possessive, 
somehow.  He couldn't help wondering what kind of person 'Dave' was, 
whether Monica was happy with him or not.  Happier with 'Dave' than 
she'd ever been with--

"Is it any of your business?"

No, it was not, but he couldn't help it.  He could still remember 
the dark, seductive expression washing over her face, the last time 
the two of them had--  

He stopped himself from thinking any further than that.  He swallowed 
and shrugged casually, as if it didn't matter to him either way.  
"Hey, if you're gonna be leavin' soon, and movin' here, I just thought 
maybe it might..." He cleared his throat and shrugged again, this time, 
sheepishly.  "I dunno.  I'm just curious."

"So am I."

"Huh?"

Reyes leaned into the window and lowered her voice.  "Forget it.  Just 
go home and get some rest, John.  Thanks for the ride."

Doggett watched her turn her back and walk away.  "Monica."

"What?"

He jumped out of the truck and walked over to where she was squinting 
at him.  "I never got to tell you..."

"What?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and squinted back at 
her.  Damn sun.  "It means a lot to me.  You know, that you left 
everything in New Orleans to help me out like that.  That you're 
_goin'_ to leave everything in New Orleans to help me out some more.  
I mean...  It's short notice and inconvenient and all..."  

'It means a lot to me, to my male ego...  Selfish bastard that I've 
been, am, and always will be...  It means a lot that you left and will 
be leaving this Dave guy behind for me...' Doggett grimaced inwardly 
and squinted at the sun even more.  What in hell was going on with him?  
He had to stop this; he had to stop thinking this way...

The smile he knew so well was there again, right in front of him.  
"I wanted to help.  I still do."

"Yeah, I know.  Thanks."

"It's not a big thing, John.  We've been through a lot together.  You 
wouldn't have called unless you knew I wouldn't say no."

He nodded.

Reyes's smile widened.  "You know, you should come to New Orleans 
sometime.  Check it out.  It's beautiful around this time of the year.  
I can show you around, if you want.  When you need a break or something."

"Sounds good."  His reply was accompanied by a nod and a shrug.  He 
was still unsure of himself every time he was around her.

She squeezed his forearm reassuringly.  "You'll be okay.  You may not 
feel it, but you know you're where you want to be right now, John."  
She took a step closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  He looked 
up slightly as she was doing so.  She ended up kissing the small mole 
on his chin.  Reyes pulled back and grinned sheepishly before she rolled 
her eyes in exasperation.  "I'm such a goof," she said it more to 
herself than to him.

"No you're not."

She rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly.  "I was making whale sounds at 
Agent Scully when we got to--"

"You were makin' what?"

She shook her head.  "Forget it.  I really have to go, John."

"Call."

"You too."  Again, she turned her back on him and waved.

He didn't follow her.  He watched her walk into the airport and disappear 
into the crowd.

Doggett climbed back into his truck and stared absently at a couple kissing 
each other goodbye.

Be careful.

You may not feel it, but you know you're where you want to be right now, 
John.

You'll be okay.

He started the engine and drove out the parking lot.  He should go home 
and get some rest.

He decided against it.

He drove to Agent Scully's apartment instead.

Have you seen him yet?

He's the reason why you're doing all this, isn't he?

Doggett took a sharp intake of breath.

Scully's baby.  Most probably Mulder's, too.

Luke.  His baby.  His.

A miracle.

He nodded to himself and stroked the mole on his chin.  He decided he'd 
call Monica later.  He'd call her after he sees Scully's baby; he'd let 
her know he's okay.

And then he'll get some rest.

END

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