Title: Five W's Author: Warm Fuzzies Rating: PG Spoilers: I'm not sure of the eps, so I'll say season 9. Disclaimer: Boy, to think what could happen if any one of us really did own any of the characters on the show... it makes me happy. Instead I'm stuck in the frustrating limbo of having to give them all an alternative life and playing with them to my hearts content. Yeah, yeah. All due to Fox, 1013 and CC, but this we already knew, right? Am I right, or am I right? Summary: The who, when, what, where and why of Doggett's and Reyes' relationship. Feedback: I don't know, but I'll resort to begging if I have to. I've been getting some on this one that's been really encouraging, and I'd like to apologize for making you all wait so long for this. warm_fuzzies_28@hotmail.com SO, HERE WE GO... [WHO] Watching him stand with her, take in her theories and thoughts he reminds me of someone else. He's a male version of Scully, four or five years ago. And with the theories that Agent Reyes is pouring out at this moment, even Scully would be contradicting it at this point. But he just stands there, in front of several other agents, oblivious to their whole hearted jeering of the logic that Reyes is issuing. Agent Doggett may not fully comprehend everything that Reyes is saying, but he's listening, and he's had this experience before. He's learned to realize that there's usually some form of truth behind the theories that she finds, but you just have to dig around to find it, at least to his satisfaction. I admit though, I see something else in the two newest additions to the basement. It's not all that hard to miss, and I think that maybe I find it easier to see in Doggett because of my own military training. But most of the agents pass them by without a second glance, knowing that they have become the Bureau's newest outcasts. More suckers to join the 'Spooky Patrol'. It tears my gut to hear those things in the hall, but rightfully, I can't do anything about it. I, being a superior officer in the force, cannot show favoritism. But I think that they've all caught on to me anyway. Nothing could get me out of the tangle that the X Files have put me in, and I don't think that there is anyway that I would want to get out. They're the challenge that Mulder saw at the beginning. The evidence that Scully found after being return from her abduction. And now to Doggett and Reyes, the connection between themselves. I've seen Doggett and Reyes square off more than once since they came together on this unit. Both of their investigating skills are impeccable, and they work extremely well together. And though they argue like two pit bulls going after the same bone, somehow, along the way, they forgive and forget, knowing that even through an argument, there's something else greater to be done. It was like Mulder and Scully had reversed roles in the drama of their lives. But it wasn't that either. Both John Doggett and Monica Reyes were unique, insightful and so full of ideals, that they could resemble anything of Mulder or Scully on thorough examination. I personally don't understand how I get all the interesting agent assigned to me. I know that having to watch the X Files grants me a little leeway in the around-the-bend agents, but that's only four. I've had to handle all the ugly visits that left my office smelling like an ashtray for days. And I hear all the other AD's talking about all the freakin' paper work and boring reports that they have to endure from their agents. I remember one meeting, during a break, one of my fellow AD's complained about how one of their agents pinned yet another suit and plane ticket to Bureau. I sat back and refrained from telling them that Mulder somehow finagled a trip down to Antarctica along with a Sno-Cat and so many other miscellaneous expenses that he'd be paying out of his ass for years to come. Well, not anymore. Anyway, I wouldn't trade the last years for anything. There's something special about the kids getting assigned to the X Files. Although, I don't think that I should even think of them as kids, seeing as Doggett can't be more than ten years younger than me. And we'll not even get into how they all end up falling in love with each other. Oh, I know that Doggett isn't in love with Scully, but there is some form of love there, I just can't pin it anywhere on the scale yet. He strikes me as the kind of man who picks his relationships carefully, but when he does, he's as loyal as a dog. Doggett. Dog. Huh. Anyway, he's a good man, and Monica's an exceptionally open woman. John's complete opposite for that matter. What the hell is it with opposites! Can't they just not fall in love, for once? Why am I stuck with it, for fuck's sake? I have enough freakin' stuff to handle without having to discipline them for unpartnerly-like conduct. On the other hand, the shift with Mulder and Scully was so subtle that I didn't notice it for at least a week. And that was only a week before I found out that she was pregnant. And Mulder tried so valiantly to hide that he was the father of that baby. Like he'd fool me. Dumb ass. Hell. I miss him. More than I want to admit, even to myself. Let alone to any of the X Files members. Back to the two agents I started with. John's hiding something, obviously feelings for Monica out in plain view, and I'm thinking that Hiding Emotions 101 was not one of John's better grades at the academy, or in the Marines for that matter. I wonder how that went over. I know from my experience that emotions were not something to take with you into a field, much less into the mission field with a Marine Corps. He's got scars, I know. Hell, I've got scars, but his are surgical compared to my scrapes. Big, long and deep that took a long time to heal. And I think that some of them are still bleeding. Maybe Doctor Reyes can do something about that. She's done almost as much for him in three months as Scully did for Mulder. As they leave the room, I'm broken from my thoughts. I guess if something does develop there, I'll be giving another act of ignorance for the better of two people. Heaven knows I'm getting good at it. I smile a secret smile and go back to work. They'll be ok. Yeah, they will. [WHEN] From the annoyed look in her eyes, and given that she had just tried to blow the lock off of the door, I could tell that she wasn't really in the mood to play checkers. But looking around at the lack of other things to do to pass the time, she caved. The old man was dancing around to that crazy latino sounding jazz, waving his ass like it was actually something to wave around. I wanted to laugh so bad. So, there we sat, the black and red checked board sitting on the rickety old table between us. Where that table came from was beyond me, but there it was. I moved. "So..." Dana sighed as she copied me, and moved her black piece. And I have absolutely no idea where the thought came from, but it was out of my mouth, before I even recognized it as something that I should ask more tactfully. Don't let it be said that I was one to think through my actions very carefully. I always was one to put my entire foot in my mouth. Heaven knows it's big enough for that. "Did you and Mulder ever talk?" I knew that she was as surprised by that question as I was, but she, being her gracious self, shook off the bluntness of the statement and answered me anyway. "As friends?" I nodded, and she shrugged. "Not really... at least, not at the beginning. But then, he thought that I was there to destroy the X Files, so that didn't surprise me all that much." I watched her carefully, moving my piece, waiting for her to complete her answer. "but later... actually, just two years ago, after my cancer and Emily and all of that stuff was gone, we shifted." A slight blush crept up to her cheeks and she moved her piece. I looked around at the dancing maniac, idly wondering how long we'd be stuck here with him. "So after that... shift?" I smiled. Me and John still had to reach that 'shift'... but I was wondering when it was going to happen. "After that..." a soft smile emerged as she thought back to those days. "after that, there was something different about him. He was something else. Before he had wanted to talk, I could tell, but there was something holding him back. I think, now, that no matter how well he knew me, he had that fear of rejection, you know?" She looked up at me from the board, catching my nod of understanding. I had always found Dana to be somewhat of an inspiration, even only knowing her for this short of a time. I knew that John respected her too and that was a great influence. You needed a lot to gain the respect of a man like John Doggett. "Anyway, after that fear was allayed, he was eager to talk... he wanted to know everything." She smiled in memory and looked at me questionably. "Why d'you ask?" She knew why I was asking. How could she have now known? Regardless, I couldn't have stopped the blush that reddened my cheeks if I had wanted to. She cocked her famous eyebrow at me and smiled understandingly. "Speaking of partnerships..." I sensed that she was going to ask a question that was just as blunt as the one I had asked. Oh, well, tit for tat. I sighed. "How did you get to know John?" It felt strange, having a girl talk in the parking garage of an apartment building where we had run in search of a serial killer. But I liked it. It was nice to have another woman to talk to... someone who had gone through all the motions in the 'Guys Club' too. I cleared my throat. "I was brought in on his son's case as a consult. I was only there for a couple of days before they found Luke." I bit my bottom lip. I always had to suppress tears when I thought of those dark, empty days. "I hadn't really had all that much contact with John before Luke's death, but I remember walking into the office and being appalled at how they were handling the case. They were treating him like a cop who had lost a kid and not a father who had lost a son. It hurt to watch him." I met Dana's eyes over the checkers... the game, all but forgotten. I knew that she could empathize with losing a child, so I pushed on, closing my eyes in memory. "He was acting so strong, all by himself." "What about his wife?" Given Dana's strict Catholic upbringing, she would be the doting wife, caring for the troubled husband, while neglecting her own distress. But then, she would only have married a man who would do the same for her, evening it out. Married people were supposed to take care of each other. I sighed. "Her family had come up when they had heard of Luke's disappearance, and they doted on her every whim. I have this one memory of her father holding her in the middle of the station hallway, she was crying on his shoulder, and John just stood there, hands kind of limp at his side and a complete look of emptiness on his face." I bit my bottom lip and opened my eyes to meet hers. I sighed. "from what conversations I did have with him, his wife's family had never really wanted her to marry him. He wasn't a part of that family. An only child, both parents buried and now his wife and son out of reach. It hurt. "After that the news crews were everywhere. His commanding officer was so busy protecting John from the cameras, he forgot to protect him from himself. In retrospect, the entire thing was a bombshell in the life of John Doggett." I caught myself, "Not that losing a child isn't enough of one, he lost everything through that. His job, his hope, his family, anything that anyone needs to survive." "He is strong," she said, quietly smiling at me. "Did you..." she caught herself and shook her head. "What?" Right now, this talk was feeling really good. Better than I thought something like this would. The catharsis of sharing pain. "Were you ever...together?" She knew that she had no right to ask the question, but her curiosity was biting away at demeanor and a lot of things were coming out into the open. I immediately shook my head. "No, no, it was nothing like that then. He was too emotionally raw to handle anything like that. He knew it and I knew it. So when I got my next assignment in New Orleans, there was really nothing holding me in New York." I shifted on my chair, and looked steadily at the checkers in front of me. Dana looked to the side at the man who was changing the CD in his player. More of the same music. I thought that I might go insane. Keep talking. Keep talking. "But even so... there's always that thought, hey?" I looked to her again, cocking my head to the side. "The 'what if' that hangs over your every thought and action. I had a lot of problems with that for the first year in New Orleans." I smiled in recollection. She smiled back at me, and then looked down on the board. "In my case, the 'what if' only held strength until I realized that it wasn't 'what if', but 'when'." She looked at me like an older sister would look at her sibling who was asking what it was like to date that boy you like. "You might want to think of it that way too... makes life a little easier to handle." I couldn't stop the blush, again, hating that I was so obviously readable. But then, I didn't mind being read so like Dana. It was good to have someone point things like that out to me. "'When', huh?" I looked at the board for a moment, feeling like there wasn't really anything more to say. We were now on the same page, and had let each other open up a little. She seemed as appreciative of the time as I did. I smiled and nodded. But then something in my memory caught my attention, and I switched tracks. There was something that we were missing about this whole case. Blonde, redhead, brunette. I flipped through the pictures in my head. Vicki had been blonde. I looked at Dana, and then paused, considering my hair. Blonde, redhead, brunette. Then reaching down, I turned the board to that she was sitting in front of the red. I barely noticed the old man come up beside me. We were back to hunting the killer. I knew that as soon as I split up with Dana, something wasn't right. We were in agreement that we thought that he was still in the garage, so all we had to do was flush him out. He got the just on me. I wasn't even expecting what he did, nothing that forward. And as his dirty hand clamped over my mouth and nose, blocking off anyway I could call for Dana, or breathe, I could really only think of one thing. I wasn't going to get my 'when'. And it wasn't fair. And then, just as I could feel the weakness and blackness creeping up on me, he wasn't there anymore. My flailing arms had paid off, but unfortunately my gun went flying to, and through it all I fell flat on my face, allowing the cold protective metal to skitter across the cement floor. We both scrambled for it. He got there first. And as he pointed it straight at my head, my eyes wide with disbelief, he looked only a little satisfied with what he was about to do. I wasn't going to get my 'when'. The report of fired shots echoed painfully in the acoustically enclosed garage, and it took me several seconds to realize that he was dead... and not me. And then there was the strong arm of my rescuer snaking around my waist and hauling me to my feet. I hear, more than see, Dana run past me and kneel next to the killer, but I don't really register anything but the man behind me. I could get my 'when'. "Are you okay?" he asks gently right next to my ear. His left hand still holds the gun and his right is the only one helping me to my feet. It's a little awkward, but happily I found myself sliding up his strong chest, his blue eyes showing the worry that he had held there before he found us. And he saved me. I could only offer him some grunt of some form, but he got the picture. Ahh, the dog personality showing through again. I hold back my comment. He has yet to let me down. His loyalty is freakingly steady. The next couple of hours were more of a blur than I thought that they would have been. I'd been in closer scrapes with death than that one, but this was the first time where I had time to realize what I was going to miss out on. Unlike my accident, this time I had been faced with my death before it came up and shook my hand. I had time to think. To regret. And I decided that I didn't like having regrets. I was going to make my 'when'. And I was going to make it soon. Ready or not, John Doggett... [WHAT] I find myself more than a little drawn to the woman who always walks beside me now. She's not the smaller type of woman who cries out for some caveman to protect her. Heaven knows, she definitely knows how to handle a gun, and she would probably kick my ass if I tried anything along those lines. She's almost taller than me in those heels that she wears, but I'm finding that I like that. Yes, I, John J. Doggett, am falling in love with my partner. In the last couple of weeks, so many things have happened that I've begun to reexamine the route that I'm taking with my life. It's my 42 birthday tomorrow, and this time of year always tends to make me think of what I'm doing or where I'm headed. I know that I've become close minded, and anti-social, given that I reflect on memories like Luke and my ex-wife, the pain and sorrow. For some reason, I can't seem to remember the good times of back then, and I'm rutted in the mire of the bad, not the good. But Monica... Monica can for some reason make me smile even in these sad days. The way that she's so self-assured in her theories, even when she herself doesn't understand them. It's scary putting me next to her, cause there is no way in hell that I would be able to understand her leaps of logic. But we work well together, I'm finding. Really well. I guess I'm finding a lot of things. I sigh and flop backwards onto the couch. Nothing doing tonight. Just more time for thinking. Last night's killing of the serial killer wandering up the coast, found through yet another one of Monica's leaps of logic (numerology... who woulda thunk it?), left us all a little tired, and Skinner gave us today off, saying he would handle the ASAC and keep him off my back. The paper work could wait until tomorrow, he said, and shoved us all out the door. I didn't complain, and I didn't hear either of the women complaining either. Anyway, back to my partner. What can I say? After her little dog-person speech before her accident a couple of weeks ago, she got me to thinking, especially while she was lying in that bed. Not to mention that little day dream I had in the hallway. Kiss her? I have no idea where it had come from, or why I had thought it at the time, but thinking on it now, it made complete sense. The sinking, bottom-dropping-out-of-my-stomach feeling that I had felt when I got the call from the hospital. The tears that wanted to fall (I hadn't wanted to cry since Luke's funeral). Breaking down in Audrey's room. The frantic thoughts that went through my head as I went about trying to find her last night, knowing that the killer had her as a target. The fear of losing her was putting everything into perspective. Basically, I couldn't lose her. A steady knock on my door brought me out of my reverie. I furrowed my brow in wonder and got up to answer it, my heart rate speeding up in the hope's of a late night visit by the one who was plaguing my thoughts. I opened the door and was granted just that wish. "Tomorrow, huh?" I couldn't help the smile on my face as I stepped back to open the door for her to come in. "Gotcha somethin'." She looked a little mischieveous, and I mentally slapped myself so that I wouldn't focus on how pretty she looked, eyeing me like that. She kept her hands behind her back, and watched me as I closed the door. Curious, I tried to lean over her, but realized that she wasn't that much shorter than me and it wouldn't work. I pursed my lips and guessed my chances at what she would do if I grabbed her hands. She refused to let me look and I started to pout. "Awww..." she smiled and directed me back into my living room. "Now... sit down and close your eyes." I couldn't help the suspicious glance that I gave her, but she just smiled sweetly and waited for me to follow her directions. "Trust me," she whispered. Finally I was down on the couch, my hands hanging between my knees and my eyes were closed. I listened intently and forced myself not to peak, cause I did want whatever she had to be a surprise. Some shuffling and a heavy thunk on my coffee table later, and I felt her kneel next to me on the floor. Both her hands fell onto my forearm and she raised it forward, making me reach out. I flinched a little, not wanting to hit anything, and she just whispered again, "Trust me." Not five seconds into her holding my hand out, I felt a soft, wet tongue lick the tip of my middle finger and I jerked in surprise, opening my eyes to the cutest little golden lab I had ever seen. And sitting next to the puppy, in a small carrying cage, a tiny little Calico cat, barely a quarter of the size of the lab. "Good Lord, Mon... they're adorable." I glanced to her for a moment and caught the pleased look in her eyes. She was happy that she had just made me happy. It wasn't even my birthday yet, and it was high on the list of best ever. How did she manage to do that? "Yeah, hey? And looking at her," she leans forwards and picks up the tiny kitten, "I can understand you wanting to get a cat." The little creature reaches forward with it's paw and places it on Monica's nose, releasing a pathetic little meow. A smile breaks out on her face, and I'm awestruck into silence at the picture that they represent. It's so domestic it hurts. I could just see myself sitting here with a wife having gotten our first pet, the step before getting the more permanent child. Yes, I do have simple fantasies. Monica tends to bring them out to the forefront. Shaking my head to get myself out of my reverie before she catches me with my gaping mouth, I bring the little puppy out of her hiding spot in the back of the cage. "Hey there..." I croon, putting her on the floor, where she promptly leaves a wet spot. Good thing it's hardwood, I think. "I'm a thinkin' that she's a little scared at the moment." Monica hears this and finally drags her eyes from the little kitten who's currently pawing at her hair. She chuckles and stands, heading into the kitchen to fetch some paper towels to clean up the mess. "The one thing that takes a little work, I suppose. You gotta train 'em." She holds the cat with such tenderness as she bends down and wipes up the puddle, while I watch the puppy wander around my living room, sniffing the legs of all the furniture. "So, what'll we call them?" We both pause for a moment, both catching the 'we', like we both owned them. Then I cleared my throat, swallowing the good feeling that that thought evoked, and shook my head. "Dunno." I stood and pulled the little critter up to my chest, letting her front paws rest on my chest, one hand under her front legs and the other cupping her bottom for support. Her wide round brown eyes stared at me and I was reminded of the other pair of brown eyes that were fixed on me from across the room. A thought struck me and I laughed. "I know. Monica, meet X," I rested the little ball against me and turned to her, "and File." Pointing to what resided in her hand. She burst out laughing. "Don't you think that they'll get complexes being named after our work?" "Oh, on the contrary," I state, sounding all business-like, "I think that they might like the fact that everyday we leave them to go to a place named like them. Don't you think?" It's strange how this 'we' has become so calmly integrated into our conversation. But I like the way it sounds. She hums a little and I don't know if it's in recognition to the ever present 'we' in our conversation, or my logic. The kitten has crawled up under her chin and its tiny tongue is roughly scraping her neck. Monica chuckles and brings File out, looking the animal in the eye. "Well, hello, File. Welcome to your new home." X has started to squirm in my arms and I set her down, watching her as she rediscovers my living room. "X," I state, not knowing if I was trying to call her to me, or just get it out in the open, but for whatever reason it bring up a question. "Do you have any idea how to train a pet?" A smile breaks out onto Monica's face and she leaps up, handing me File and issuing a disgruntled meow out of the misplaced kitten. I gently handle her as I watch Monica head out the door, presumably out to her car for something. I look at the little thing that I can hold with one hand, and am overwhelmed by a sense of protectiveness and tenderness. She's so fragile, I don't think I could let anything happen to her. X nudges at my feet and I kneel down, bringing File out for her to smell. She enthusiastically licks the little kitten on the side of her face and then goes back to wandering. I watch her as she disappears into the kitchen and I follow her, hoping she doesn't leave me anymore surprises. "John?" Monica calls from the living room, when she doesn't find me there. "Kitchen." I call, bending down to retrieve X from her snooping of the garbage can. "No... you can't go snooping around in there." I say, bring her up to my face with my free arm. I'm now holding both of them and its really not all that awkward. They're both so small, that I can hold them each with one arm. I look up to see Monica watching me with a tender smile on her face, a bag from the pet store hanging at her side. Our eyes catch and we look for a little while, either feeling embarrassed or curious enough to not look away. I've known that she's held an interest in me since way back in New York, but there have always been too many variables that would come between a relationship with us. It's only been lately that I've been thinking that those variables might not be worth the hassle that they cause in keeping us fighting our emotions. I'd love to give in to my emotions right now. Unfortunately, they require getting naked, and I'm not too sure that's what she's here for. "Uh," I awkwardly clear my throat and drag my eyes from hers. "Want some wine?" I immediately wonder if I actually have the proffered wine, and breathe out my silent relief when I remember the long forgotten bottle of red sitting downstairs. Sitting among all the other dusty memorabilia. She drops her bag and nods. "Yeah, that'd be great." I know that said wine would be a distraction from her really, really wanting a cigarette right now. And I smile at her, knowing her plan. "What're you down to?" She smiles sheepishly and take both X and File from my arms, allowing me to go look for the wine. Her body comes distractingly close to mine in the process. She looks up into my eyes for a moment, and I swear I can feel her walking around in my brain, picking my thoughts. I can actually hear her muttering to herself, "Nope, not that one... oh, I like that, we'll save it for later..." and then there's a wicked little chuckle and I blink. How does she do that? "6 or 7." "Huh?" I'm still trying to get over her getting in my head. "A day. After breakfast, coffee, lunch..." I wave my hand in understanding and head down the stairs. File lets out a little meow and just as I step down, I look back and see Monica digging in her bags. I wonder what wonder things she's got in there. However, I don't think any of it is for me. When I reappear in the kitchen, she's no where in sight, so I open the bottle, grab two glasses from my cupboard and head back to the living room. I pause in the doorway and watch her with the cat and dog, both squirming around on the couch with her. X gives a playfully little yelp and grabs the chew toy that hanging in front of her, growling as fiercely as any foot high puppy can do. I chuckle and head in, placing the wine on the table and picking up File, who's decided that it's a good time to take a nap. The cutest little yawn almost shakes her whole body and after I fall into my Laz-Y-Boy across from Monica, File curls up on my chest and promptly falls asleep. I watch Monica and X while she smiles and laughs at the puppy's antics. Occasionally she'll catch my eye, but the dog seems to have most of her attention, while she has all of mine. I realize that I'm gawking at her, but that shouldn't be something new to her, I find myself doing it a lot more lately. Gee, I wonder why? Anyway, X seems to run out of energy some fifteen minutes later, and finds a comfy spot in the corner of the couch, circling to make it better and curling into a ball. She too yawns, and then is out like a light. "She'll be crying later." Monica notes, picking up the wine and pouring us both some. "Crying?" "Sure. Puppies cry... but I guess it would probably be rated as a high pitched whine." She smiles and hands me a wine glass, reaching down to give File a little scratch behind the ear. File doesn't seem to care though, and keeps on snoozing. "It shouldn't last too long, maybe a week or so... until she's used to it here." "Right, and it's that simple." I sigh, taking a sip of wine and raising my other hand to absently finger stroke the little kitten that's decided to use me as a body pillow. "I hope you know that you're planning on helping me to train these two." She pauses and then breaks into a smile. "Of course." We fall into a silence. I don't know what to say next, and apparently, neither does she. I'm thinking that we've hit a little bit of a fork in the road. And if I go with my gut feeling, something interesting could come up if I take the wrong road... or maybe if I take the right road. Either way, it doesn't seem like light conversation is where this evening is intended to go. "So..." she sighs, resting her feet on the table in front of her and mentally forcing me to meet her eyes. "So," I respond intelligently, but I swear that I just don't have the mental capacity to do anything else. Besides, I like the smile that it brings out. She clears her throat, pulling her eyes from mine and looking at the sleeping dog at the foot of the couch. "42, huh?" It sounds a lot like the greeting she gave me earlier in the night, and I sigh dramatically. "Don't remind me. I think that this year I'll turn 40. I'm going to grow younger." She smiles and I can see her watching File on my chest. Or maybe she's just watching my chest. "I don't know why you'd want to. Age has a certain appeal." I'm a little taken aback by the direct approach that she's taking, but I don't care, really, if she wants to walk this road. "That's what all you young people say nowadays. Despite that, there're too many drawbacks to age." Not that I've really experienced some of them yet. Only I've slept in the bed upstairs since I moved in four years ago. And that's just way too long. "Oh really? Like?" I can feel the tips of my ears turn crimson when I think of answering her with the thought that I just had. She notices and laughs a little, even though she too, blushes a little. It's amazing at the amount of sexual tension that's insinuated itself in this room, and we really haven't flirted all that much. "I had an interesting conversation with Dana last night." "How long were you stuck in there?" She sighed and then shrugged. "Long enough." "So, what'd you talk about?" "Her and Mulder... me..." she looks up at me, "and you." Oh, really. "Oh, really? Am I a popular topic of conversation between you two?" She laughs and X looks up, probably mentally scolding Monica for waking her up. "You'd be surprised." She glances at me through her lashes as she pets X back to sleep. "She had some wonderful advice that I'm considering acting upon." I wonder if she can hear the frightfully fast beating of my poor heart from across the room. I can feel the beat in my throat, and my emotions are hovering somewhere between anxiety and excitement. I'm just hoping that all that she's talking about is what I'm thinking about. This could be a very good birthday. "And that would be?" "I think that I need to ask you a question first." Given the simplicity of the statement, I'm wondering if this question is going to be blunt or subtle. Either or, I'll answer it. I nod, not entirely trusting my voice. "Am I a 'when' or a 'what if'?" She's a little quieter as she asks this, like she's not sure of what my answer will be. I don't even need to think about what she means by either of those choices to know what the right answer will be. I'm mildly surprised by the steady voice that she has, and I know that I won't be nearly as calm as she appears to be. Monica never was one to beat around the bush. I can tell that I've been thinking too long when I see a look of embarrassment flash across her face. She really didn't know what I was going to answer. Guess I better solve that. "You've always been a 'when', Monica." I can't bring myself to look her in the eye. I don't know why, but I'm a little skittish right now. I nod my head to reassert my answer and force myself to meet her gaze. There's a smile on her face now. Damned butterflies. They just keep taking off. I clear my throat and answer her smile with one of my own. "So, what was the advice that Scully gave to you?" Her smile becomes a playfully wicked grin. "Actually, in all honesty, the advice that she gave me only applied to anywhere before you answered that question." She stands before me and takes File, moving the tired kitten to lie with her larger companion, who doesn't seem to notice her added friend. The way she's acting is starting to scare me. In a good way, but scare me none the less. "Well, in all honesty, Monica, I'm scared." All my policing, Marine and FBI training have flown out the window, leaving me floundering in a sea of emotions. I'm not supposed to be feeling this out of control. I'm expecting her to insinuate herself onto my lap, which I wouldn't mind, but she sits on the floor in front of me, between my legs. She grabs my hand, and rubs her thumb over the back of it, contemplating the lines there. I wonder if she sees them the same way that I do. Hazards of worry and fear, pain and suffering. I find that my other hand has come up to play with her hair, becoming a pillow to her head when she leans onto my knee. I glance at my two newest companions across the room, settled nicely into my couch and I realize that I haven't thanked her for them yet. I move forward in the chair so that her head is now resting on my thigh and I bend over, resting my chin on the crown of her head. "Thank you." I say it for X and for File, for leaving New Orleans and coming to my side, for becoming my partner, and for everything that she's done for me in the years that I've known her. Thinking of it that way, those two words are way inadequate. She hums in acknowledgment and I feel her lips brush the back of my hand. A kiss. "You know what I was thinking about before you knocked?" She's content to listen, so I take her silence as a motion for me to continue. "You're little dog-person speech before your accident a couple of weeks ago. Remember that nice little bit of awkward silence before I got out of the car?" She chuffs a little amused laugh and nods her head. "I was thinking about kissing you there. Just leaning across the panel and saying to hell with the consequences." "Why didn't you?" She's still holding my hand and tracing the wrinkles and lines and small working calluses. I wonder why it's so intriguing to her. "Until ten minutes ago, I really wasn't sure if you would close off if I did something that forward." I sigh and think of the look that had crossed her face in that time. I think that she might have been just as scared as I was. "I wouldn't have. Why do you think I said what I said?" She turns on the floor and now my leg is between hers and she looks up into my eyes, her deep brown ones focusing intently onto mine. I smile docilely and plant a kiss to her forehead. I don't need to answer that, not anymore. "So, when, huh? Is that all you talked about?" I can't help but be curious with what went on in that garage. She smiles placatingly and mockingly shames me, shaking her finger at me. "Now, what conspires between Dana and myself is strictly confidential." "But I know that you talked about me and 'when', so that's an 'us' topic. It's not fair that you can talk to her about us. Who can I talk to?" a wicked grin appears and she looks at me innocently. "I hear that Byers is quite understanding." I can't help but laugh at that. Good-ness. No way in hell would I ever talk to him about personal issues. Sure he's nice and all, same with Frohicke and Langley, but... no, just... no. they're just not the kind of people I could sit down with and discuss myself with. I think they're a little probing, or maybe insightful... but I'm not sure if it's in a good way or not. "Whatever. I'm glad you and Scully are getting along." "Mmmm." She hums in agreement and settles more firmly onto my leg. It feels unreasonably good to have her weight resting against me. I don't have the opportunity to support her very often, even if it is superficial like this. It still feels nice. We fall into a comfortable silence for a little while, and glancing at my watch I'm alarmed to see that it's getting late. We have to go to work tomorrow. And I can't help the yawn that's crawling up my throat. My ears pop, but it feels relaxing to release the yawn. When I open my eye again, Monica's looking at me with an innocent smile on her faces. She sighs and sits up. "Work on your birthday, huh? Sucky." She cracks her back and I flinch. I hate it when she does that, and she knows it. Then she's standing before me and I know that she's going to leave. "Don't go." She pauses and looks at me with love and tenderness in her eyes. "It's not that I want to leave, John, but we have to work tomorrow, and I don't live between here and work." She's being reasonable, I know, but it's my birthday tomorrow and I just want her to stay tonight, dammit. And not necessarily do... anything, but just stay. "I know... but I just want you to... just stay." I'm beginning to sound desperate, and I wouldn't want to be reduced to begging, so if she's still going to go after this, then I'll have to let her go. She quirks a half smile at me and crouches down to my level, meeting my eyes. She narrows hers in thought and rests a hand on my knee. "Tell you what." It sounds like she's going to make a deal with a six year old. I guess I deserve that. "Tomorrow I'm going to make you dinner, alright?" "What does that have to do with tonight?" She waits for me to think it over and then clarifies it for me. "You choose... I stay tonight, and leave early so that I have time to get ready for work," she looks at her watch and then back to me. "A little less that 6 hours, or..." she pauses for effect, "you come tomorrow night prepared to not work for the next few days." The innuendo behind that statement hits me like a brick. Oh-ho. I heave a resigned sigh, although the idea is appealing. "Alright. You twisted my arm. But you're making it sound more illicit than it is cause tomorrow's Friday." I smile at her and stand, pulling her to her feet. We're almost standing nose to nose. She leans forward and rests her forehead on my breast bone for a moment, and then stands back, turning and heading for the door. I follow her obediently, like I plan on teaching X to do. I watch her as she puts on her coat and I watch her as she opens the door and cross the threshold to the porch outside. And then I watch her as she turns back to me. She clears her throat and I feel frozen in place. And then another half smile appears on her lips. "It's your birthday." I glance at my watch and then back to her. "Why, so it is. Can you grant me..." But she's already granting me my wish before I finish the sentence. Her lips are soft against mine, moving gently and pleasantly. I'm a little startled to respond right away, but as soon as I realize that she's already kissing me, an unrelenting hunger erupts inside of me and I'm searching her mouth. She hums hungrily back at me and meets me half way. Wow. That's good. We slow and break the one kiss into several smaller ones, slowly releasing each other. Wow. I'm reluctant to let go and I rest my forehead against hers, keeping my eyes closed. "A birthday wish?" I finish weakly, relishing the huff of amusement that flutters across my cheek. "I have to go." "I know." Neither of us moves for a long moment and then I stand up straight, keeping my hand firm on her neck. I give her another chaste kiss and then drop my hand. "Go." She nods and runs a gentle hand down my arm. "See you tomorrow." And then she's walking down the walk, back to her car. I feel a nose poke the back of ankle and I turn to seen a sleepy X trying to get outside. I bend down and pick her up, hearing Monica's car start up. Feeling childish and playful after the emotional roller coaster of the evening, I take X's paw and wave it at Monica. "See you tomorrow." I say with certainty and close the door. [WHERE] "Good morning, Agent Scully." He smiled at his partner as he walked into the office. She had just hung up the phone and was grabbing her attache case, ready to head out again. "Ah... Good morning, Agent Doggett." She pulled a card out of her case and held it out to him, a smile on her face. "Happy birthday." He looked surprised and she could see a small blush creep up his cheeks. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting anything from you." She tilted her head to the side and graced him with a teasing smile. "It's not from me, it's from William. For good ol' Uncle John." John smiled back at her and watched her as she headed for the door, an odd sensation filling his chest, in the vicinity of his heart. Wow, this was turning out to be a good birthday. Minus the crying from X and the 'gifts' that File left for him, he felt really good about how this day was working out. Not to mention what he was looking forward to that night. Scully stopped at the door and turned back to him. "I've got a consult with VCU, but are you free for lunch? My treat?" He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips and nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great." "Late, though? Quarter to 2?" "Yeah. Good." He watched her pull the door closed and paused, looking around the empty office. Empty. Where was Monica? He sighed happily and sat down at his desk, shifting through the files lying on his desk. Maybe he'd be able to distract himself for the morning. Maybe he wouldn't notice the ticking of the seconds as he waited to hear the light click of her heels walking down the hall. Maybe, just maybe he'd be able to wait till tonight before he burst into flames. Then the phone rang. John glanced at the clock and realized happily that time had indeed passed. "John Doggett." [Hey. Sorry I haven't showed up yet.] He smiled at the sound of her voice. Man, he was so lost. "S'OK, there's not a whole lot going on anyway. Where are you?" She sighed heavily and John tried to decipher some of the voices in the background. [A friend of mine from the New York Field office came down and asked for my help. Just a profile on some string of murders taking place. Not so unlike two days ago.] He heard her flipping through some papers and then she sighed again. [I'm probably going to be here all day...] John felt the pit of his stomach fall through. His greatest birthday gift might not show up. "Look, don't worry about it." [But I wanted...] she sighed again. He could tell that it was going to be a rough day for her. [I wanted to do that for you.] He smiled and blinked slowly. She wanted to cook for him. It was that whole domestic side showing through again. "Really, Monica. I know how you get with profiling. It'll be midnight before you lift your nose from that file." She huffed her agreement. "But... But in the off chance that you do get done early... I know a little kitten and puppy, not to mention their owner who would love to have some company tonight." He could hear her smile over the phone and could picture her standing in the middle of a bustling office, eyes closed listening intently to the phone, file hanging in her grasp, oblivious to those who were going about their day around her. "I'll even have supper made." [I'll try my damnedest.] "I know you will. Just to ease your misguided feeling of guilt for bailing out on me, I wasn't even going to be in the office this afternoon anyway." [Why not?] "Scully's going to take me out to lunch and I've got my review with Skinner at 3. Should take me to the end of the day." John picked up the card from the desk and opened it, waiting for her to respond. "William gave me a card." She laughed. [Did he? Did he sign it too?] John read the small note from Scully and swallowed the lump in his throat. John, Just a little note to say thanks. It doesn't really cover everything that you've done for me and William, but there aren't words for that. So... Thank you. I hope that you have a good birthday. Dana Scully. P.S. Had a talk with Monica the other night, and I think that you've got something special sitting in your lap. But don't take it from the one who's been there before. HINT HINT. John laughed at the post script and debated whether to tell the woman on the phone. "No, the little bugger didn't sign it. Ungrateful little..." he chuckled, and put the card back into its envelope. He sighed. "Look, I know that you'll be busy today, but when you're done, even if it's late... I'd love it if you came by." [So would I.] He heard her cover the mouth piece and talk to someone. [Kay, I'm going to do this. You have a good day, alright?] "Best so far," he admitted. And then she hung up, and he had to swallow the urge to cry. Even if she wasn't able to make him dinner tonight, or wasn't able to spend the night with him, he knew that there were few birthdays that could top this one. John coasted through the rest of the day. He met with Scully for lunch and they talked amiably and comfortably, being as they were beginning to develop a friendship instead of a working relationship. John felt good about how his interview with Skinner had gone, but he also knew that he was going easy on him... not that he minded. There were a lot of things about the X Files that caused a whole lot of stress... even to Skinner. Even so, John felt relaxed and easy as he entered his home, expectant to find something left behind from his two newest roommates. He whistled gently as he walked into the kitchen, looking in the corner where he had put the bed that Monica had bought and the litter box. The food and water for both of the animals had been picked at, but he could hear the sorrowful little puppy whining her heart out in the upstairs somewhere. "So where's File..." he wondered, kneeling down and looking under the couch and several other chairs, until he finally found her curled up, in his bed upstairs. Her was vaguely surprised that she had made it up the stairs, even, given her diminutive size. "Hey, there... You're not supposed to be there..." The little cat protested from being moved from her comfortable spot curled up in his bedclothes, but settled reasonably well next to his chest as he went in search of X who was still crying softly down the hall... apparently in the bathroom. X, at the sight of John, quieted and began to lightly wag her tail, still looking pitiful and sad. He knelt down and dragged his hand over her soft ears and down under her jaw. "I know today was bad," he said softly, lifting X too to his chest and heading back down stairs, "but tomorrow is Saturday, and if all goes well, I'll be home and I'll have company too. You won't be alone at all." Neither X nor File seemed really interested in his promises for the future, because as soon as he touched ground, they both squirmed to be let down. He did so, laughing at how they actually were alike. Three hours later, he stood in his kitchen, stirring noodles and sauce and munching on the salad that sat to the side. A classic rock station was playing in the background, not too loudly, and both X and File were taking their third nap since he had gotten home. Only did both sit bolt upright when someone opened the front door. X went rigid for a moment and also started to yap until the visitor bent down and put her hand to her nose, allowing her to familiarize herself with the visitor. X lapped lightly at the hand and, satisfied with the familiar smell, went back to her spot, and curled down next to File, who had already decided not to care about the visitor. She walked lightly to the kitchen, following her nose and leaned against the door jamb, watching John prepare the meal. She marveled at the ease his posture held, the smooth flow of his arms and muscles and smiled. "Smells good." "Shit!" he started, turning around to playfully glare at her. "Didn't your mother teach you to lock you front door?" He laughed a walked forward, licking a little dab of sauce off of his thumb. "I do, but I was expecting company tonight. Besides, I'm a trained FBI agent. I have a gun and I know how to use it." She kept her eyes locked on his as he advanced upon her, and then teasingly looked to his hips, looking for said gun. "You don't appear to be armed... or dangerous for that matter." He leered at her, reaching out and laid a gentle hand on her hip. He leaned in and whispered, "Not yet..." He planted a teasing kiss next to her ear and trailed his lips along her jaw until he felt hers beneath his and then he leaned forward and gave her the kiss that he's been wanting to give to her all day. She returned it readily, humming her appreciation of the act and stayed with him until the need for air became too necessary. She inhaled deeply and graced him with a smile, bringing a hand up to lay upon his neck. "So," he began conversationally. "How was your day?" "Getting better by the moment." She watched as he turned back to the stove and turned down the heat, then turned to her again. "Profile's done, friend's gone and all I'll get is a little slap on the back for a day stuck there. Especially when I had better places to be." She smiled at him and sat down in the chair, crossing her legs and folding her hands on her thigh. She rolled her neck to the side and sighed. "Well, I'll give you more than a slap on the back." He linked his fingers, turned his palms towards her and then cracked all his knuckles. "Let Dr. Doggett's fingers do the walking." Her huff of amusement turned into a moan of gratification when his muscled hands began to knead the stiff muscles of her neck. The strained tendons and ligaments that held her neck still for most of the day creaked and bent under the forceful massage of the man behind her. After a few minutes, she put up a token protest. "It's your birthday, John. I was even supposed to make you supper and I bailed on you." "You didn't bail on me. You had a job to do, and I completely understand why you helped out your friend. You've taken yet another offender off the streets, and I'm proud of you for that." His thumbs hit a particularly tense sinew and she groaned in pleasure. "If you're really all that serious about it, you can pretend that tomorrow is my birthday and you can make me supper then, alright? But tonight I want you to relax and hang out with me." She resigned herself to his ministrations and sat placidly until he deemed he was done. "Thank you." "My pleasure, I assure you." He walked to the cupboard and took out two plates and all the necessary accessories to the set and proceeded to set her place and his. Again she tried to protest, but he shushed her again. "Listen, it's my birthday wish that I serve you now, and that you don't move a muscle from where you're sitting." He turned back to the counter and reopened the bottle of wine that they had started last night. He poured her a glass and handed it to her, looking her sternly in the eye and then smiling down on her. "I want to do this for you tonight, cause I know that you had a bad day and just because I want to. You can do whatever you want tomorrow, but tonight, I'm calling the shots." He lifted an eyebrow, challenging her to respond, but she wisely kept her mouth shut and took a sip of her wine instead. "Fine, Mr. Birthday Boy, have it your way." She didn't sound all to put out by the prospect of having him wait on her all night. She eyed his movements with suspicion, a small smile tugging on her lips. She did kind of like it when he was forceful. He was always so respectful of her that on the rare moments when he exerted authority, it was surprising. John went about setting up the dinner table and then set the food in front of her. Monica's stomach rumbled loudly and John got a funny look on his face. "You didn't have lunch, did you?" She looked up at him sheepishly and then back to the floor. "It was 6 before I even looked up or noticed that I hadn't had anything to eat." She shrugged and grabbed a bread stick from the basket he set out, biting into it and tearing off the end. She looked up at him like a child caught with her hand in the jar. She sighed. "One missed meal isn't going to kill me." For a split second, the shadow that crossed his faced scared her, but it was fleeting and the smile that followed more than made up for the scare. "No, but now I'm going to stuff you silly." ~***~ It was a domestic scene, one found in many other homes across the country at that very same moment. One could have expected to find a child or two in the upstairs bedrooms, tucked under thick comforters with the door left open a crack for the doting parents to hear anything wrong. Maybe there would have been quiet classical music playing on the state of the art stereo system in the corner, or a game show on the TV. But not in this house. X and File were busy chasing a stuffed toy around the living room, ignorant of the two humans who were talking on the couch. X yapped at the little kitten who more often than not got caught up in the fast moving paws of her much larger playing companion. And as much as X and File didn't really care about the people on the couch, said people were absorbed in each other. After the pasta had been eaten with the appropriate 'ooh's and 'aww's, the dishes were cleaned together, over John's modest protestations. Her excuse, and valid one, was that she didn't want to sit in the living room alone. The standoff lasted for thirty seconds before John gave in and let her dry. So, dishes done, John grabbed the wine, of which there was little left and directed his guest to the couch. Once settled, they talked. Nothing and everything was on the menu. Sports, politics, past memories... anything was fair game. "Tomorrow's Saturday, right?" John nodded and took another sip of his wine, relaxing backwards and flinging one arm across the back of the leather. He flexed his hands and all the knuckles cracked. Monica laughed. "So...given how your birthday went, and none of the plans really worked out... how would you rate it?" He sighed and laid his head back, thinking. He took a deep breath, pursed his lips and then beamed her a smile. "Considering I'm 42, I'm a divorcee and I'm a workaholic... I'd rank it right up there." He reach out and grabbed her hand which was lying on her lap. "Thank you." Her face melted tenderly and she smiled at him. "My pleasure." "Mine too." Their fingers laced comfortingly and they lapsed into silence, their thoughts, though unvoiced were clear to each other. Monica sighed. "John..." "I know. I do... there's so much to all of this that I don't really know what to say next. So much has gone unsaid, almost like we're taking it for granted in the other person. But these last couple of weeks, Monica, I don't know, but it's been..." "More." They say it at the same time and smile gently at each other. "I didn't think that when I came back here, to help find Mulder, I'd find some of my truest friends. But I never would have dreamed that I would have found you like this." Monica looked to their connected hands before she continued, looking into his eyes. She smiled at him and used their entwined fingers as leverage to pull herself across the couch and into him. He easily accepted her weight against his side and began to play with her hair. "Stay tonight." She looked up at him and smiled. "Is that your birthday wish, cause I gave that to you last night and I don't know how many I should grant you." She went silent for a second and then lifted her hand to his face and cupped his jaw. "I've already brought my bag in." He released a small sigh of relief. "I'll make you a deal. You grant me as many birthday wishes as you want, and I'll grant the same on yours. Deal?" "You're putting a limit on this?" "No, you'll just have to grant as many as you want granted." He smiled, intrigued by how far she would go. "Alright. Fine. So what do you want for your next wish?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. He paused to think, although he already knew what it was that he wanted. She knew it too. "I want..." He paused again, a smile blossoming onto his face. "I want you." [WHY] <> So after holding to myself for only a matter of months, since being teamed with John again, I go and break every promise I made to myself when I left New York so many years ago. Oh, but what a way to let yourself down. And now he lies sleeping peacefully, the worry lines on his forehead, relaxed for the first time in a long time, I'm sure. I'm on my side, facing him, resting my head on a pillow propped up by my arms. It's warm in this room, so I only have a sheet covering my lower half, and my feet are cooling off by sticking out the other end. Given that I've just made love to the man of my dreams and he's sleeping beside me, I'm amazed at the lack of emotions I'm feeling right now. Everything is right. For the first time since I walked away in New York, I've found that little nagging thought of 'what if' in the back of my mind, dragged it out, mentally stuck my tongue out at it and squashed it. I remember doing that as soon as I touched earth again. This was that 'when' question that I was talking to Scully about. And she was right. It was easier to walk into this accepting that it was a 'when' situation and not a 'what if'. I roll on to my stomach, keeping my face to John and smile when he too shifts, throwing a heavy comforting arm over my waist, and shimmying in closer. His forehead now rests less than an inch from my elbow, and I can feel his breath tickle the under side of my upper arm. It was actually surprisingly comfortable. I admit that when I first came back to work with John, I was a little suspicious of the look in his eye when he looked at Dana. But as I watched him, compared his actions to what I knew of him, I began to appreciate what he was seeing in her. It wasn't the look of a man to a woman. It was the look of a brother to a sister. But not. On some level I could tell that it went deeper than that, that something personal had developed to make him so loyal to her in such a short time. One would have thought that with his military and police background, John would be tough as nails when it comes to working a case. I wonder now what had shifted in him in the last few years that would allow such a private man to risk so much on a woman that he really didn't know. What had he discovered of himself? He was more driven. He worked with focus and acute awareness, open to any bit of evidence or hint that would allude to something on his case. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite as open with his heart, and I think that he went through the same heart pounding, gut wrenching, breath taking emotions that I did with our talk yesterday... or two days ago, whenever. He shifts again and I think that he's starting to wake up. I tip my head down to his and kiss his cheek. That does wake him up. "Hey..." he mumbles sleepily as he rolls onto his back and stretches. Then he rolls back to me and pulls me down level with him. "Hey." He says it cleared this time and with a load of more tenderness in his voice. I blink and smile. "Hey. You feeling ok?" He cocks an eyebrow at me in question and then chuckles. "I think I'll consider that a rhetorical question, cause you sure as hell didn't have to ask that. I think I've reawakened muscles that have been dormant for a decade." I laugh and lean into him, kissing him chastely. The soft cotton of the bed sheets sag between us and I miss the heat of his body, except for where my hand is on his face. Slightly frustrated, I pull it away and fall against him. "So, this is 'when', huh? I think I can live with that." I hear his voice through both ears; the rumble in his chest and the whisper out of his mouth, it's an interesting experience, and I smile when I think that I want to do it again. Then I shake my head mentally and realize that I can probably do this for the rest of my life, and he wouldn't even know. "I can. I know that I can." I feel one of his hands come and begin to play with my hair. I feel him sigh, and I think that I can hear him smiling. Maybe I'm a little more sensitive... "I'm in love with you." It's so out of the blue, so simple, so heartfelt, that I'm shocked into silence. I turn my head and plant my chin on his chest and look into his face. He almost looks afraid as to how I'm going to handle it. I however, don't think that I can keep the tears that are collecting in my eyes from falling, or the smile that's breaking out on my face from doing so, so I just let them go. "Why?" I don't know why I said that. I know that I don't need an explanation on his love, where, or what of who or when, for that matter. I know that I don't. So why did I ask? Before I can explain myself he's talking. "Because you're beautiful. Because you're smart. You're loyal, funny and compassionate. You understand me like no one else ever has. I love your temper, your smile... the way that you laugh. Even at my corny jokes." As he's talking, I can't stop the tears that are still coming. I can feel the expansion of my heart fit to burst, and I think that that is where the tears are coming from. "I love how you love everyone else. I love how you consider all the possibilities. I love how you're so open minded. How you readily excepted me for who I am and you didn't want to change me." His hand filtered through my hair and he caught my eye. "I love... you." I release a nervous chuckle at the feelings that are coursing through my system right now. I can't wait to tell him. "I love you too." END AUTHOR'S NOTES: Normally, I'm not one to put song lyrics into the middle of a piece. But that song is so great, that I had to. In fact, to tell you the truth, I have yet to do a song fic... but I'm sure, if I find the right piece it'll all come spilling out onto my poor unlucky computer. Also, I'd love to thank all the great feedback I've had from this, though I'm really sorry for the delay. Traveling has a way of screwing up anything that you're doing at home. So I hope that you enjoyed yourself, and for all those aspiring writers out there, there can never be enough, and even though the series is done, doesn't mean our imagination has to run dry. Warm Fuzzies