Summary: Deslea's rec: "A curious tale of perception and longing. Doggett waits for Reyes, and he begins to see the world through her eyes. Whimsical, delicate prose melds with the dry pragmatism of a solid Doggett voice. A tricky balance, very nicely done." Summary: He waits for her on the balcony, hoping that something in his lonely existence will change.

Title: Whispers in Black & White
Author: Foxhunt2blue
Summary: He waits for her on the balcony, hoping
that something in his lonely existence will change.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Season 9 Post-Truth
Keywords: Doggett/Reyes, Angst
Disclaimer: CC & Fox own them all. I am just a
poor unemployed fan only trying to pass the time.
Feedback: Starving for it...sigh!
E-mail: foxhunter2blue@yahoo.com or
Kitsunegari2001@aol.com
Author's Note: See end of story.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Somewhere between New Mexico and Kansas City
they had lost each other. Both of them had known
there was a possibility that they would become
separated---so plans were made.

They were to meet in Coral Gables, Florida if the
they were ever separated. He had ask her why this
specific town, but all she had done was smile that
elusive smile he had learned to expect. It had
surprised him even more when she had specified
the exact spot.

The Biltmore Hotel.

Somehow he had managed to find his way to Coral
Gables after two months of running. There was an
aura to the town that spoke to him---not that he
believed in such things. She did though and after he
had seen the Biltmore he understood why she had
chose this place.

Massive and elegant it stood out as an incredible
piece of architecture. A huge pool, the largest in
the United States according to the desk clerk, put
the nearby ocean to shame. The same clerk had saw fit
to fill him in on the ghostly history of the place
as well.

That was Monica for you though. Even on the run
her mind was filled with supernatural mumbo-jumbo.

He had checked in and the wait began.

So had the whispers.

No one at the hotel really knew who he was. He had
access to accounts that had been set up by the boys
long before their deaths. Money wasn't a problem and
he had changed his look so many times over the
previous
six months that he didn't even recognize himself.

The staff knew him only as Duncan Andrews.

He could hear them whispering as he walked by them.
Each story more elaborate than the next.

A drug dealer.

The bastard son of a Kennedy.

Who really knew? Even he didn't know.

His hair was longer now, dyed a rich black, along with
the neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Gone were the
suits of his previous life replaced with faded jeans
and loose tee-shirts that hid the gaunt, hardness of
his body.

As he began his long, lonely vigil he found himself
hiding from the daylight. He would wake at noon,
shower and dress, then sit for hours on the balcony
overlooking the pool. He would read most days, but
sometimes he would just watch the hotel guests, hoping
that one day a dark-eyed beauty would join him.

Weeks passed into months.

Slowly everything around him began to fade. The once
rich colors of a semitropical world turning into faint
whispers of black and white.

It was some months later that he found himself
wandering after dusk. Wandering along the same balcony
that represented his entire world now. It was late
autumn, but it didn't show except for the slight drop
in temperature and the increase in rain.

A storm was moving in, he thought, as he watched the
clouds gather in the south. Despite those clouds a
full moon still shone with a soft glow that lighted
his way. It was the off season so few people were
around. Summer was over, kids back in school, and
family vacations done.

He settled into his favorite chair, the latest Anne
Rice novel clutched in his hand, waiting to be read. A
faint smile drifted across his mouth as he wondered
what she would think if she realized her world was
more real than she knew. In his time here he had began
to realize that he had been a fool to fight so hard
against his former partner Dana Scully.

Now there was a name he hadn't thought of in awhile.
Was she and Mulder sitting somewhere wondering about
him? He doubted it. More than likely they were buried
together in some unmarked grave in the desert.

You can't think like that John, came the soft whisper
that had become his only companion.

So he tries to lose himself in the book and waits. He
waits for her on the balcony, hoping that something in
his lonely existence will change. That perhaps for
once the truth hasn't cost him the one thing he needs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

He wakes to the feel of cold wind on his face along
with the first fine mist of winter rain.

The only light now is from the ceiling lamp that sways
in the wind at the end of the balcony. He realizes
that it must be late for no one is visible on the pool
deck below. Standing he stretches his aching body
wishing for once that he were younger. As he turns to
walk back to his room he notices there is a figure
leaning against the balcony railing, just beyond
his door.

He can't get a good look.

The wind has picked up and the drapes from his balcony
door are dancing across his line of sight. Shoving the
paperback in the waistband of his jeans he reaches to
the small of his back. In a moment of despair he
remembers he left his gun on the dresser.

Well shit, he thinks, it's probably just another damn
ghost anyway. He had seen more than his share, the
hotel was crawling with them.

"Hello?" He calls out his voice quavering as the
figure turns.

For a moment he can't believe his eyes. It couldn't
be---could it? He moves closer, but the figure stands
still as if in disbelief itself.

Time seems to stand still as his legs contemplate
folding beneath him. All the time that has passed here
in his tiny corner of the universe, he had hoped, but
his dreams seemed fruitless.

"John?"

As he collapses to the floor the figure rushes
forward, tears glistening in those beautifully dark
eyes. Eyes filled with an emotion he had never thought
he would see again.

Her hair is loose and it falls past her shoulders now.
In all the time they have known each other he has
never seen it this long before. Reaching out he runs
trembling fingers through the tangled strands.

"Monica?" His whisper is filled with both fear and
hope.

She begins to laugh, her arms wrapping around him.
They
kneel there as minutes pass, the rain now soaking
through their clothes.

As he draws back he has only one desire in this world.

He cups her face in his hands and claims her mouth
with
a desperate kiss. There is a part of him that still
fears she will dissipate on the cold wind, but instead
a warmth flows through him.

This is real, he thinks.

So many months alone for him---for both of them---has
brought the one real truth to the surface.

"I thought I lost you...," he chokes out.

"Never...," she whispers into his soaked hair.

At that one word the colors return to his world.

He has finally found what he needs to survive the fear
of the coming apocalypse. Something he had let go of
when he should of held on to it for dear life.

Love.

From love grows hope. A hope of a future that may or
may not be. But it doesn't matter now what that future
holds. For here in this moment all things are
possible.

No longer will he be lost amidst the whispers of black
and white. His hope has returned and now he will be a
warrior against the coming darkness.

The End

Author's Note: The Biltmore Hotel does exist and it is
in Coral Gables, Florida. I have never been to either.
All the information about the Biltmore I got from the
following book: "Coast to Coast Ghosts" written by
Leslie Rule.

=====

Trapped in time. Surrounded by evil. Low on gas. ---Army of Darkness 1992

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