Summary: Doggett is ready, at last. Doggett/Reyes, post-Release.

Universal Solvent
by Keleka & Philiater

Email: keleka@keleka.net & philiater1@yahoo.com
Distribution: Yes to Gossamer.
Rating: PG
Spoiler Warning: Release, Sunshine Days, William
Classification: VR
Content Statement: Doggett/Reyes romance
Summary: Doggett is ready, at last.

Archive: No to Xemplary. Yes to others. Please tell us
where so we can visit.
Disclaimer: If we owned this cash cow, do you really think
we'd be living in the midwest?
Feedback: It's welcome in our houses!
Author's Note: Huge steaming piles of thanks to Fabulous
Monster for her usual All-Star beta job, and to CathGerm
for much-needed reassurances.
The rest of our fanfic can be found at:
http://www.keleka.net/keleka/
and
http://www.geocities.net/philiater1/



Universal Solvent
by Keleka & Philiater


"There's something decadent about this," John Doggett said
in a liquid, husky voice. He cupped a handful of bath
water and let it drizzle over Monica's breasts.

"Hmmmmmmm." Monica took a deep breath and wiggled her
torso, settling herself against him.

"Decadent, maybe. But nice," she said in a sleepy voice.
She reclined further against Doggett's chest, the warm bath
water lulling her to sleep in his arms.

"That's what I'm saying." John Doggett was a man of few
words, and the more time he spent with Monica, the fewer
words he need to get his point across. There were times
when he was sure she could read his mind.

This morning was a perfect example.

*

A week ago, John had finally laid to rest the demons that
haunted him since his son's death. What seemed like a
lifetime--but was only a week--had passed since he and his
ex-wife released their son's ashes into the warm waters of
the Chesapeake Bay.

That was the final act he did for his son. Afterwards, his
first act for himself was to take Monica Reyes into his
arms. For the first time in years, he felt whole again.

They held each other for a long time. When they pulled
apart at last, John could see everything he ever wanted--
everything he ever needed--in the depths of Monica's
expressive eyes. Her radiant smile warmed his heart.
Before she could say anything, he kissed her. It was a
kiss full of hope and affection that made his body tingle
He wondered why the hell he had waited so long; she could
have been his all this time. But in his heart, John had
known that it wasn't really true. As long as he had worn
the unsolved murder of his son like a badge of dishonor, he
hadn't been able to give himself fully to anyone.

John knew Monica had sensed it too. He knew she had been
holding herself back, ignoring her own desires and needs,
waiting for him to catch up. When she returned his kiss
that night, John knew this was her way of stepping forward
with him; acknowledging his need to reconcile his past with
his present, and maybe their future as well.

John wanted her, and Monica's darkly expressive eyes told
him she wanted him, too. When he released his son's ashes,
he had also released the constriction on his heart. He
could finally say the words that needed saying.

"I love you," he said simply.

"I love you, too," Monica said, and for several long
moments all John Doggett could do was look into the warm,
brown eyes of the woman he loved. There was so much he
wanted, so much he needed, and it was all right in front of
him at last. Yes, he wanted to make love to her, but the
time wasn't right yet and they both knew it. Too much had
happened that week. There had been too much trauma for
both of them.

When Monica lifted her finger to her lips and then pressed
her fingertip against his lips, John knew she would never
rush him. She would never pressure him to go in a
direction he wasn't ready to go. They had waited a long
time, and would wait a little longer. By unspoken
agreement, the kiss would be all there'd be that night. It
had been all too brief, but it was a kiss full of sweet
promises. They would wait until the time was right for more.

*

As it turned out, they wouldn't have to wait long.

They stood side-by-side at the observation window into
Oliver Martin's hospital room. Oliver, with his telepathic
power, was the proof of the paranormal that Mulder and
Scully had searched for for seven years, and he had
practically fallen into Doggett and Reyes's laps. John
could still feel the terrifying rush of dangling upside
down from the ceiling of Oliver's house. Somehow, it made
being banished to the basement of the Hoover Building worth
it.

"Here's hoping the TV stays off and he learns how to love
the real world," John said and then turned to glance
briefly at Monica. When he looked away again he could
almost feel Monica's mind probing his thoughts, wondering
whether he was ready; then her hand insinuated itself in
his and he knew it was time.

"I think you *are* getting the hang of this job," she said
with a gleem in her eyes that matched the one in his heart.

John's mind raced during the short drive to his house in
Falls Church. It wasn't that he was nervous. He knew they
were doing the right thing. Plans for the future filled
his thoughts. Would they live together? Would they marry?
Would they--he glanced at Monica and saw that she was
studying him intently--would they have a family of their
own? He grinned lopsidedly and was rewarded with one of
Monica's brilliant smiles, the kind that always made his
heart skip a beat. She was so lovely. And she was his.

They were barely in the door of his house when he pulled
Monica into his arms and kissed her gently. As far as he
was concerned, they could stay in this embrace forever. A
piece of his heart had been closed off, frozen,
inaccessible for so long, and now it buzzed with the
excitement of life. Call him a romantic fool. He didn't
care.

Monica pulled back and studied his face. John was
thinking ahead, but he knew she was more interested in
the path they had taken to get there.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"What'm I thinkin'?" The lopsided grin returned and he
kissed her again. "I'm thinkin' I love you."

"You said that already."

"It makes me feel good to say it. I can't say it enough."

Monica's eyebrows shot up. "Who are you?" she asked with
a hint of humor in her voice. "And what have you done with
John Doggett?" John laughed and pulled her into his arms
again. "No, really," Monica said. "This isn't like you."
At her words, John's body went still. She pushed back to
see his face.

"You didn't know me before...." His voice trailed off
painfully.

"You're right," Monica said, pulling her arms tightly
around him again. "I didn't."

John wasn't surprised by her confusion. She had no idea
what he was like before he lost his little boy. Even he
knew he had been more open and spontaneous before the
tragedy. He broke free, took her hand, and pulled her
eagerly toward the stairs.

Monica laughed and asked, "Where're we going, John?"

"To the bedroom!" As soon as the words were out of his
mouth, he stopped and turned, his face serious again.
"Okay?"

"'Okay' doesn't begin to describe it," Monica said and shot
up the stairs. "Last one there's rotten ectoplasm!" she
called back over her shoulder to a shocked John Doggett.


*


Doggett awoke to the sensation of something tickling his
nose. He tried vainly to ignore it, but finally he opened
his eyes in protest, planing to knock to Kingdom Come the
pesky fly that dared awakened him. His sleepy eyes widened
when he realized he was not alone. A woman was sprawled
across him, her head resting on his chest. As if on cue,
she turned her head.

Monica!

It came back to him then, in a flash. Luke. Barbara.
Follmer. Oliver. Monica. Monica undressing him. Monica
undressing *for* him. Monica exploring his body and he
hers. She was playful in bed, just as she was in life, and
he had followed her lead as their love-making lasted longer
than he would have thought possible. Finally, sated and
exhausted, they had collapsed in each other's arms and
Doggett had fallen into a deep, satisfying sleep.

The rosy light of the sunrise was just begining to stream
into his bedroom window. Dawn. Only a few hours sleep and
he felt more rested than he had in years. He kissed Monica
gently on the head, taking in that wonderful scent of
vanilla and oranges that he had never noticed before last
night.

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
He listened to Monica's even breathing as he gradually fell
back to sleep.

*

When John awoke again, Monica lay snuggled beside him, her
long, lean legs pressed up against his muscular ones, her
hand lying posessively on his bare stomach. He could get
used to this, he thought, and then felt a pang of guilt as
he remembered Scully, the missing Mulder, and the lost
William. It didn't seem fair, that he and Monica should
find happiness while his diminutive former partner had only
sadness and loss to wake up to every morning. He slapped
himself mentally. He deserved happiness, he told himself.
He deserved this.

He rubbed his hand over his face and then gently pushed
Monica's hair back so he could see her face. He wondered
whether she always slept this soundly, or only after....
He smiled, remembering how enthusiastic she had been the
night before. Who'd have ever thought there was a tiger
underneath her New Age persona? God, if he had this to
look forward to every night, he would never go to work.

Slowly, he extricated himself and slipped out of bed to
answer nature's call. In the bathroom, he was drawn to the
large, antique bathtub that occupied the far wall of the
room. He was a shower man, and he hadn't used the tub
since he bought the house. This was as good a time as
ever, he thought and turned the bright brass handles to
start the water. Maybe Monica could be enticed to join him.

When the tub was half-full of steamy, hot water, he
slipped in and lay back against the tub's end. Heaven. It
wouldn't take much of this to lull him back to sleep.

"I think you forgot something."

John started at the sound of Monica's voice. He was
treated to a view of Monica standing naked in the doorway,
rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. He leered and raked his
eyes boldly over her.

"Ya think?" he said, with a rumble of laughter in his
voice. Monica strode languidly in his direction until she
reached him. She put her hands on the side of the tub and
leaned down until her face was just inches from his. "What
did I forget?" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

"Me."

Monica slid into the tub and settled herself between
John's legs. His arms encircled her, one hand resting on
her stomach, the other gently caressing her breast. He
planted gentle kisses on her shoulder and she sighed,
sinking into his cushioning embrace.

"You know, John, this is very symbolic," Monica said after
a moment.

"Hmmmm?"

"The washing away of the past. Water is the universal
solvent, you know."

"My thought exactly," he said, though he hadn't thought of
it at all. A week ago he had performed a life-affirming
ceremony at the waters of the Chesapeake with his ex-wife,
and now he was taking a bath with Monica Reyes. Somehow,
it all made sense.

"There's something decadent about this," he said in a
liquid, husky voice. He cupped a handful of bath water and
let it drizzle over Monica's breasts.

"Hmmmmmmm." Monica took a deep breath and wiggled her
torso, settling herself against him.

"Decadent, maybe. But nice," she said in a sleepy voice.
She reclined further against Doggett's chest, the warm bath
water lulling her to sleep in his arms.

"That's what I'm saying."


*end*