Title: Letters Pray.
Author: Forbes
Summary: Sk/D. Next in the `Letter' stories. 
The story is a continuation of the `Letter' series, and starts on the 
Monday after `that' 
weekend. Nearly harmless Doggett torture. Humour. Angst and a little 
bit of smut. 
An accident, a revelation and the shit hits the fan. 
BTW, I'm an artist, not a medic, so all symptoms and other medical 
reactions are purely 
used as plot devises.
Rating: N17 for bad language and slash relationship.
Archive: Anyplace, but it'd be nice to know where, so I can come and 
look.
Spoilers: No. I just play happily in my own little universe.
Feedback: Oh, go on then. Spoil me.

Thanks: This story wasn't going to happen until Georgia hinted that 
she wanted to know 
what happens when... 
Thanks for the beta, G.
There's also a tiny bit contained within that was directly inspired 
by the wonderful 
manipulation `Snuggle', by Mrs. Fish - Thank you!








Monday. 
Hoover Building. 
Lunchtime.


Chapter 1.


This was not a good idea, Doggett thought, hurrying down the 
corridor. 
Actually, it was not just a bad idea, it was a monumentally, fuckin' 
enormously bad idea. 
He strode quickly, tugging at the knot of his tie and shoving his 
left hand out to glance 
at his watch He scowled.  Shit. Running late. 
How the goddamned hell had he let himself get talked into this?  
He must be out of his freakin' mind, lettin' his sister within a mile 
of the Hoover Building 
without a gag and restraints. 
Shit-shit-shit, he muttered under his breath. 

Agent Scully had looked at him like he was sprouting horns when he 
turned her down 
for lunch. Their normal routine consisted of lunch at the local deli 
if they were free,  
with Mulder tagging along if he was really unlucky.   It was an 
annoyance  he tolerated in 
deference to her obvious affection for the other man. He wasn't going 
to jeopardise 
anything because he found Mulder as annoying as a spider in a wet-
suit.
Hell, it had taken Scully so long to look at him without him 
wondering where she was 
planning to stab him with a knife, that he jumped at any chance to 
improve their 
working relationship.  
Sometimes what with their workload, they went weeks without lunching 
together, but he
always accepted her invitations. Always, without fail. 
Until today.

And here he was ditching her for an appointment that he had been 
incredibly vague about.  
Vague, evasive and downright embarrassed.
Damn, he hated not telling her the truth, but he knew sure as God 
made little fishes, there 
was no way Scully would be able to resist asking to meet his sister.  
And as for Mulder getting his profiling eyes on her, with what she 
knew, it was enough 
to make him want to cry.
Uh-uh. No way, Jose.

The only crumb of consolation to be gleaned, was that Maddi wasn't 
with her. 
Thank God 
she'd had to catch her plane back to New York. Not that he didn't 
like the woman, 
hell, he liked her well enough to share a night of hot sex, but 
perversely, this was just 
too much. Having her stalk through his workplace in her shiny `fuck-
me' pumps and 
wicked sense of humour was enough to send him into early retirement. 
Enforced early retirement, if she happened to mention the wrong thing 
to the wrong 
person. 
Like Kersh. Or Mulder... 
Hell, even Scully. 
Mind you, even his Sally knew enough to send Kersh into a 
disciplinary frenzy.

He picked up the pace, the mere thought of Mulder in conversation 
with his sister, 
snapping at his heels.  Gotta get her out of the building before 
Scully went to lunch.
Soles squeaking on the polished surface, he skidded round the corner 
towards the 
busy main foyer.
Around the corner and slap-bang into someone walking the opposite way.
	"Yow!"
	"Hell!"

In a tangle of humiliatingly entangled arms and legs,  two bodies did 
an off-balance 
dance for a second or two, before descending on the tiles of the 
Hoover building.
Someones else's sprawled form  helped break Doggett's fall, all 
except his left cheek, 
which smacked juicily onto the floor next to the other person's head.
Grunting under the weight of  a Doggett in full flight, the other 
agent might have 
considered himself the injured party, but as luck would have it, the 
knee that jutted 
upwards more than evened out the distribution of agony.
Doggett and said knee introduced themselves.  
"Oh! Christ...."  As his balls squashed up against his pelvis,  the 
rest of the world 
ceased to exist for John Doggett. 

The focus of his entire universe lay crushed between his legs. The 
crowds, his sister 
and person beneath him, were all forgotten in the white noise of his 
agony.
Guts tightened and knees drew up over the person trapped beneath 
him.  
What air that remained in his lungs hissed out between clenched 
teeth, misting up 
on the cold floor.
"Hey!"  Somewhere beneath him, a voice spoke. 

Doggett ignored it. 
He concentrated instead on cupping indignant balls, his eyes tightly 
shut, stalling tears.  
He couldn't breathe properly -  his mouth hung open, but oxygen was 
stuck in his throat, 
unable to get past the scream wedged sideways in his mouth.
He would not scream... He would not scream... The chant rattled 
around in Doggett's 
head, keeping the lone thought company that told him any minute now, 
he was going to 
scream like a girl.
He held on gently, but very tightly  to his balls, holding them 
together, trying to stop 
them from exploding all over the foyer. 
Not a happy thought, the contents of his scrotum scattered across the 
entrance to 
Hoover Building.
"Hey, Doggett..."  That voice again.

Doggett continued to ignore it.  He needed to concentrate on keeping 
his breakfast 
down and his hands very still.
The body underneath his wriggled around, knocking his hands. He 
groaned thinly.
"Hey... You okay?" the voice asked.

Stupid fuckin' question. Maybe he should throw up all over this jerk, 
by way of an answer.   
He arched his back,  relishing the flare of pain in his bruised face, 
the tiled floor blessedly 
cool under his hot cheek. 
"Doggett?"

Shut up. Go away... Leave me be.  Breath hitched in Doggett's chest, 
making him 
wonder if he was going to cry, after all. That'd just be the icing on 
the cake - lying flat 
out on the floor, with his balls mashed to hell and cryin' like a 
baby.  Just perfect.
The man was clutching  his arms, trying to push him up, and holding a 
conversation with 
someone standing over them. 
Oh, this just got better and better. The ironic side of Doggett's 
humour revelled in the 
knowledge that a crowd appeared to be forming around the pair of 
them. 
This couldn't happen somewhere quiet - Oh no.  Had to be the middle 
of the Hoover 
foyer, at peak visiting hour. Wasn't he the lucky one?
"God! You're heavier than you look, Doggett."  

The irritating voice laughed in his ear. Smart-assed bastard, Doggett 
thought, sourly. 
Kick me in the balls then tell me I'm fat. Thanks a bunch. 
"Shut up, Mulder." A voice from way up high filtered through his pain-
logged brain, and 
straight into his slowly shrivelling dignity.
No. It couldn't be.
God couldn't hate him that much. Surely not.
"Hey, Scully, like to see you having him lying all over you like a 
San Francisco fog."  

The comment was followed by a gratingly familiar chuckle.
So, it was official. 
God hated him.



Chapter 2. 


Please... Let me die, Doggett begged inside his head. He groaned as 
Mulder wriggled 
his way out from underneath his body. The other man seemed to be 
taking an inordinate 
amount of time to get free, jiggling his body, touching far more than 
Doggett was happy 
with, but then again, any touching at all from Mulder was too much, 
as far as Doggett was concerned.

If he had the strength, he'd really take exception to the way the 
other agent slipped his 
hand inside his jacket to push up against his chest. He really didn't 
think there was any 
need to linger quite so long. 
And what was that with running his hand down to his hip?  That was 
totally fuckin' 
uncalled for...
Or was he just being over-sensitive? 
Well fuck it,  his demeanour may as well match his balls, which felt 
sensitive enough for 
the entire eastern seaboard.
He moaned as Mulder moved from under him and his knees slid together, 
trapping his 
hands.

"Be careful, Mulder. You're hurting him."
Again, thought Doggett. 
"Am not!"
"Well just take care," Scully scolded, her voice swimming into his 
ears as she got nearer. 
She must be kneeling down. Couldn't be easy, what with carrying that 
kid.
"He crashed into me," Mulder protested.
"Stop whining, Mulder." 

Yeah! Way to go, Agent Scully, Doggett cheered internally, still too 
shell-shocked to 
do anything more responsive than groan.
"Agent Doggett?" Scully's voice floated nearer. "Can you hear me?  
Where are you 
injured?"
Another stupid question. 
Not worth opening my eyes for that.

"Maybe he gets off on the smell of floor polish."
Maybe I'll get my breath back and punch your lights out, smartypants. 
Doggett rubbed 
his face on the floor.
"You're not helping, Mulder."
"Well? What d'you want me to do? Kiss him better?"

Don't even think about it, pal. Doggett grimaced.
"Mulder, take a look at his face. He's in pain. Have a little 
compassion."
"Just offering my services."
"Please don't feel you have to. Now move over. I need to look."

Look at what? Doggett wondered.
Then a small hand pulling at his hands let him know what she wanted 
to look at.
Shit!  That one opened his eyes.
	"That got his attention," Mulder sniggered.
Scully sighed, and pulled gently at Doggett's wrist. "Agent Doggett? 
Can you hear me? 
I need you to let go."

Not a chance, Doggett thought, his hands still firmly clamped over 
throbbing genitals.
"Agent Doggett..."  Her fingers pulled more firmly.
No freakin' way, Agent Scully. Doggett turned his head to glare at 
her.
"Woah!" Mulder pointed at his face and whistled through his teeth.

Doggett watched a frown form between Scully's eyebrows, and to his 
relief, her hand 
let go of him and came up to cup his face.
"John?"  She touched her other hand to his brow, making him wince as 
she poked.
 "Look at me." She moved her finger from side to side. "Can you see 
this?"

Swallowing, Doggett's tongue flicked out. He could answer her, it was 
just a matter of 
getting his words sorted out. He took an experimental deep breath to 
make sure he could. 
It didn't make him sick, so maybe he was gonna live a bit longer.
"Yeah," he croaked. "I see it."
"Good. Tell me how many fingers."
Stupid questions, again. He'd got a knee in the balls, not brain-
damage. 
"One."
Scully nodded, satisfied. "Okay, then."  She stroked the bump on the 
side of his face.  
The skin under her fingers hurt like a bitch and felt like soggy 
cabbage.  She pursed her 
lips. "Probably bruise up beautifully, but I don't think it's too 
serious."

Could have told you that, Doggett thought, wondering if it was okay 
for him to try and 
sit up yet, if she'd finished poking him.
He watched as her gaze travelled down. 
Ah.
She touched the back of his hand. "Think you could let go?"
No. Hands gripped tightly, unintentionally pinching himself. He shook 
his head. 	
"I'm fine, Agent Scully," he lied, blinking back the sudden sting of 
tears.
"No, you're not," she told him sternly. 	
"I am." Relentlessly stubborn in the face of balls that were 
screaming `Dixie' under 
his hands.
She pulled a little harder, testing his grip. 

His grip was just peachy, he thought, trying not to wince. There was 
no way she was 
going to touch his balls, publicly or privately for that matter. 
And he'd be damned if she was going to do it in front of Fox Mulder. 
That was just so 
far out of the question as to be unthinkable.
Besides, any investigation of damage to his manhood was going to be 
carried out very 
carefully, in the privacy of a bathroom stall, thank you very much.

"Agent Doggett..." Scully began, patiently, as if talking to a small 
child. "I am a doctor."
"Not mine," Doggett told her.
"Don't be childish."
Next to her, Mulder sniggered. Doggett glared at him.
"Best let her have her way, Doggett."
"No."  
Scully sighed. "John..."
"I said no."  
Mulder shook his head. "She'll hurt you."
"What? More than you did?" He couldn't resist that.
"Ouch."
"Yeah..." He glanced down towards his hands. "Ouch."
"What's going on?"

Doggett looked up as the owner of that familiar voice moved into view.
Sally. Oh, again... Just perfect.
"One of our agents has taken a bit of a tumble, Ma'am," Mulder 
announced, grinning. 
"No need for concern."

Yes, there was fuckin' need for concern, Doggett thought. His balls 
fell like they were 
gonna pop.
"Oh, John!" Sal dropped to her knees beside him, hand on his 
shoulder. 

Doggett sighed and closed his eyes, but not before catching sight of 
the exchange of 
glances between Scully and her pet freak.
"What happened?"
Doggett opened his mouth to reply, but Mulder beat him to it.
	
"Seems Agent Doggett took a bit of a tumble  and a blow to the, 
um..." 
He grinned. "Extremities."
Sal frowned at him, distractedly.  "The what?"
Mulder laughed outright, making Doggett's teeth clench.
"You know..." Mulder tipped his head to indicate below Doggett's 
belt, but
Scully held up her hand to stop whatever outrageous comment Mulder 
had planned. 
She looked over and addressed Sally.
"Excuse me. You know Agent Doggett?"
"Yes." Sal gently squeezed the shoulder under her hand. "He's my 
brother."

No mistaking the incredulous look between the other two, this time. 
And it pissed Doggett off. What did they think he was hatched, fully 
formed from an 
Easter egg?
"I'm sorry," Scully said extending her hand across Doggett's body. "I 
didn't realise.  
Pleased to meet you. I'm Dana Scully, John's partner."
Sally smiled and took the hand. "I'm Sal Doggett." She rolled her 
eyes, stating the 
obvious. "Hi there, Agent Scully. John's spoken about you."  
She glanced over to Mulder.
He was staring.  And that pissed Doggett off even more.

"And you are?" Sal asked.
"Fascinated," replied Mulder, tilting his head this way and 
that. "You don't look a bit alike."  
He grinned. "Apart from maybe the eyes."
Sal smiled back at him. "Oh, I don't know..."

Okay. Time out. Doggett cleared his throat. "Can I get a hand up, 
here?"
He leaned forward.
Scully's hand shot up and pinned him to the floor. "Not yet, Agent 
Doggett. I'm not 
convinced you're in any condition to move."
"I'm fine," Doggett frowned, levering himself to a sitting position, 
straining against 
Scully's hand. 
He needed to get Sal out of here, he didn't like the way Mulder was 
looking at her.
	
"If you're fine, Agent Doggett, then why are you still holding on to 
your testicles?"
Doggett stared, then coloured up. Damn. He looked down. Busted. 
"What's wrong with them?" Sal asked.
What indeed? Doggett glared at Mulder.

"My fault, I'm afraid my knee kind of wandered between Agent 
Doggett's legs."
"How `bout that," Sal said dryly, a grin turning up one side of her 
mouth, Mulder 
pointed in wonder.
"Ah! Now I see it. You do look like him!"
"Now that we've established my sister's provenance, d'you think I 
could get up now?" 
Doggett grumbled. This was just too much, sitting here like an idiot, 
holding his nuts. 
He forced himself to release them. Gingerly, one hand let go. 
He grimaced. Shit, they hurt.
	
"I still think you need to be looked at, Agent Doggett." Scully 
raised her eyebrow as 
he peeled his other hand away from his crotch, forcing himself not to 
look for blood. 
Felt like they split open in his pants.
"I'm..."  he started to say.
"Yes... `Fine', I know." Scully rolled her eyes.
"Hopeless, isn't he?" Sal commented, reaching to slide her fingers 
through Doggett's 
hair. "Never admits when he's hurting."
"It's a guy thing," said Mulder, watching the progress of Sal's 
fingers, a slight smile 
playing on his lips.
"Tell me about it." Sal laughed. "I did this to him, once. Caught him 
right in the cajones." 
She winked at Scully.  
"He screamed like a banshee, then five minutes later, tried to tell 
Mama he was fine."
"Really?" 
Scully sounded far too interested for Doggett's liking. 
Last thing he needed was her and his sister to `bond'.
Sal clucked. "Found him behind the woodshed, puking his guts up." She 
did the 
annoying hair-ruffle thing. "Pa had to hold him down so Mama could 
look-see."

Doggett groaned at the memory. "Jeez, Sal. I was twenty five years 
old. You got 
any idea how humiliating that was?" He shook his head.
"Little sisters. They'll do it do you every time," Mulder nodded, 
sagely.    
Doggett glared  with one eye. Correction: the  last thing he needed 
was for him 
and Mulder to `bond'.

He jerked his head away from Sal's fingers, biting back a groan as 
his vision greyed, 
a sigh trickled out from between his  lips.
"You people wanna let me get up, here? I feel kinda stupid, sitting 
on the floor."
"You may have done some real damage, Agent Doggett," Scully said, 
laying her 
hand on his other shoulder.
"You mean Muldah may have done some damage."
Scully squeezed.  "You know what I mean."
"I'm fine."  He looked from one woman to the other. "Just let me get 
up."
"No," the two women chorused.
"Outnumbered, my man," said Mulder, shaking his head.

Doggett glared again, opening his mouth to bark something rude.
Another voice interrupted. "Is there a problem?"
Doggett glanced up, knowing what he was going to see on the other end 
of the shiny 
shoes beside Scully. Oh, man. Fate was really going for it today.
"Hello, Assistant Director." Scully looked up. "I'm afraid Agent 
Doggett has been 
injured. But he refuses to seek medical help."

Tattle-tale, Doggett thought, miserably. 
"Injured?"  To give him his due, Skinner didn't let anything other 
than mild concern 
colour his words. He was good.
"I kinda wacked him in the balls, sir," Mulder stood up.
Skinner's eyebrow rose. "And you did this because..."
Mulder shuffled. "An accident. He ran into me and we fell, and I 
just..." he trailed off, 
waving a hand down at Doggett.  "You know."

Skinner looked back down at the floor. One of those eyebrows started 
to wander up 
his forehead. 
"And are you incapacitated, Agent Doggett?" he asked.
Doggett pulled an embarrassed face. 
"No, sir. I just seem to be having a little trouble 
persuading these ladies to let me get up."  Glaring at each woman in 
turn, until they 
released him.  He put a hand to the floor and began to lever himself 
up.
He got about half way, before a groan slipped past his defences.

A dark eyebrow quirked.  "Can you manage, Agent Doggett?"
"Yeah..."  Doggett sucked in several calming breaths. Shit. He was 
not going to let 
the assembled crowd know it felt like he'd got two fuckin' great 
carving knives buried 
in his crotch. Uh-uh. Way too embarrassing.
"You don't look well," Skinner commented.

Biting back several sharp retorts that might have gotten him an 
official reprimand, 
Doggett shook his head and concentrated on getting all the way 
upright.
"I'm fine," he snapped from behind tightly clenched teeth.
"He keeps saying that," Sal tutted. "But I'm sure he's not."
"So you're an expert on my body, now are you?"  Doggett couldn't stop 
the snippy 
remark escaping.
	
"No. Just on common sense. Something you seem to be sorely lacking."
"Sorely is about right." Skinner bent his head a touch to peer into 
Doggett's face. 
"You look pale, Agent Doggett. I think you should..."
"I am not lettin' Agent Scully fish around inside my pants!" he 
yelled,  pulling himself 
upright with some difficulty.  His guts seemed to be attached to his 
balls by red-hot wires.

"I had no intention of `fishing'," Scully told him, holding her hands 
out to Mulder to 
help her up. "None whatsoever, Agent Doggett."
He just grunted at her, unconsciously rubbing low on his belly with 
one hand.
"What I was going to say, if you had let me finish..." Skinner gave 
him a look. "Was 
that you should go lie down. Get yourself sorted out."
Doggett had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh."
"Oh, indeed."  Skinner pulled his hands out of his overcoat and 
pointed to the 
elevators. "There's a couch in my office. Go."
"I was on my break..."
"You still are. Go lie down."
"But I was gonna go out to lunch," Doggett wondered if it sounded 
like he was 
whining.
"And now you're not." Skinner sighed and folded his arms. "Agent 
Doggett. It really 
is quite simple. You either submit to a medical examination, or you 
go and lie down 
until you look less like you're going to vomit all over the floor at 
any moment."
Mulder made a little noise, and out of the corner of his eye, Doggett 
saw Scully nudge 
him.
"Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Doggett wondered what the odds were on him making a break for the 
door, and 
guessed, with miserable certainty, that he'd get about three feet in 
his present condition. 
Shit. 
He sighed. "Dammit. I'm..."

Sal threw up her hands.  "John! For goodness sake! Be told, will you?"
All heads turned to look at her.
Scully held out an introductory  hand in the silence that 
followed. "Assistant Director 
Skinner - this is Agent Doggett's sister."

Sal grinned, and for a horrible moment, Doggett envisioned her 
stepping forward and 
embracing Skinner, in a dance-floor re-run from Saturday night. 
He held his breath. Please no.. Behave, Sal..
Her hand extended gracefully towards Skinner. 
	
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Sarah Doggett." She grinned wider as 
Skinner took her 
hand in his. "But you can call me Sal."
"Walter Skinner, Ma'am," Skinner rumbled in his deep voice, his face 
perfectly composed. 
No indication of anything other than polite interest. Certainly not 
the fact that he'd had 
his tongue in her mouth two nights ago.
Shit, he was good, thought Doggett. 

"Are you John's boss?" Sal asked, innocence personified.
Skinner inclined his head. "I suppose you could say that."
"Well then make it an order. You can do that, can't you?  Make him do 
whatever you 
want. Be the boss?"  She had big wide eyes, a slight smile on her 
face, and Doggett felt 
his belly clench in a way that had nothing to do with his aching 
balls.
Oh shit, but she was sailing close, he thought, uncomfortably. 
But Skinner just nodded. 

"Yes, yes I can, Miss Doggett. But I would rather let my Agents make 
their own 
decisions regarding  their actions." He glanced across. "And I have 
every confidence 
Agent Doggett will make the right choice."
Doggett sighed again. Goddamn. He'd better say something before they 
started talking 
about some other horrendous choice, like `lifestyles'.
"Okay...okay. I'll do it."

Mulder leaned forward, eyes wide. "You gonna let Scully go fishing?"
"No, Muldah." He glared at the grinning man. " I meant I'll go and 
lie down."
"Oh." Mulder turned to Scully. "Disappointed, Scul?"
She gave him a filthy look. "Shut up Mulder."
"I shall be happy to escort your sister to my office, Agent."
Skinner stepped back. "If you'd like to step this way, Miss Doggett."
Sal smiled demurely. "Why thank you, Assistant Director."  She 
smiled. "But may I call 
you..." 
Oh God, Doggett thought, he was gonna kill her. She batted her eyes 
up at Skinner, 
seemingly oblivious to the looks Mulder and Scully were giving each 
other. 
"Walter, isn't it?" 
Skinner held out his arm. "It is. Shall we?"

Then arm in arm, he and Sal moved to the elevator, leaving a hunched 
Doggett and 
two incredulous agents staring after them.
This was just peachy, Doggett thought, stepping gingerly forward, 
keeping his legs as 
far apart as he comfortably could. 
He duck-walked to the open car, trying not to let his hands wander 
down to hold on to 
himself.  Just freakin' peachy. 





chapter 3.



He had to admit, the couch was an inspired idea. It was long enough 
to stretch out, 
and comfortable enough to almost let him forget about the pounding 
throb in his 
underpants.
Shifting a little, Doggett sighed. Not only were his balls still 
humming, but the bruise on 
his face had decided to make an appearance. It was beating in time to 
his pulse, in a crazy counterpoint to his groin. The Advil Skinner 
had handed out was taking a bitch of a long 
time to kick in. 
He grimaced. Don't think about kicking.

"How're you feeling, Johnny?"  Sal knelt by the couch. She smiled 
down at him. 
He grunted. "Sore." 
Leaning in to place a little kiss on his forehead, she 
smiled. "There, now that didn't hurt, 
did it?"
"What?"
	"Admitting you're not invincible."
He widened his eyes.  "I'm not?"
"Silly." She slapped his shoulder lightly. "The pain meds helping?"
He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Not yet." 
"Poor baby."
"Don't mock the afflicted." He craned his head up. "And where's Walt 
gone?"
"I dunno. Talking to his assistant, I think. I'll go see."  She stood 
up and wandered 
across the office.

Doggett smiled to himself. Maybe getting a wack in the balls wasn't 
such a tragedy, 
after all. At least he got to spend his lunchbreak with Walt. 
Certainly beat wrestling with 
the crowds in town. He could always take Sal to the cafeteria later. 
Not very fancy, but 
that couldn't be helped.
A sudden stab of pain reminded him that lunch was no great trade for 
a pair of sore balls 
and a black eye.
Maybe he should have a quick check. 

He slid his hand under his belt, tentatively working his way down. He 
didn't really think 
there was anything seriously wrong, but it was just one of those guy-
things that made him 
want to make sure just the same.
Under the hem of his boxers, and down. Shit, his hands were cold.
Frowning, he spread his legs to cup the battered balls. Gently... 
gently... he told himself. 
Just a little feel...

"Need any help?"  
Jumping guiltily, he squeezed too hard and winced. 
"Shit!" 
"Told you, you should have let Scully do that."
"Muldah! What the hell are you doing here?" Screwing up his face, he 
tried to pull his 
hand out, but got it stuck.
"Making sure you're okay." Mulder nodded, grinning. "Are you?"
"I think so," Doggett told him, ungraciously,  trying to get his hand 
out before he went 
any redder. "Guilty conscience, Agent Mulder?"
"About catching you feeling yourself up?"
Doggett growled. "About kneeing me in the nuts."
Mulder shook his head, happily, "Nah. Was your fault, for not looking 
where..."
"What?!"
Mulder shrugged. "You were the one rushing."

Unable to think of anything suitably cutting, Doggett had to make do 
with glaring. 
Which from his current position, supine and with his hand down his 
pants, wasn't 
gonna work, but he went with it anyway.
The other man just grinned at him.  "So. They both still there?"
"Why you askin'?" Doggett grouched, lying in an uncomfortable mixture 
of guilt and 
irritation. "Wanna give me a second opinion?"
Mulder tilted his head.  "So, what d'you reckon, Scully?  Think he 
needs a second 
opinion?"

Doggett snapped his head round as Scully stepped up to the couch.
"Yes."  She arched an eyebrow at his scrabbling hand, then looked up 
at the scarlet 
face. "But I don't think he is going to allow it." She smiled, 
compounding Doggett's mortification. "Are you, Agent Doggett?"
"I..." He jerked his hand out, bringing his shirt tail with him. He 
bent to pluck at the 
material, hating the blush that he knew was all over his face. "No."
"Thought not." She glanced at Mulder. "That's why I requested that AD 
Skinner..."
"WHAT!?" Doggett stared up, wild-eyed.
"Hey, Doggett, calm yourself." Mulder waggled his eyebrows in that 
tormenting fashion 
of his.
"Mulder..." Scully rolled her eyes. 
She couldn't mean...  "What the hell are you suggesting?"
"I thought you might be more comfortable with..."
"NO!"

He was aware that his reaction totally outweighed the seriousness of 
the situation, but he 
seemed incapable of stopping himself from sounding like a hysterical 
girl.
It didn't help a bit that any second now, his eyeballs were going to 
drop out of his head, 
pushed out by his throbbing brain.
"Agent Doggett..." Scully folded her arms.
"What part of `no', don't you understand, woman?"
He watched her eyebrow crawl up in the heavy silence that plopped 
between them.
Shit. 

"Oh, man. You did it now." Mulder shook his head.
"Perhaps you would prefer Agent Mulder to..."
	"God dammit to HELL!" 
"Please mind your language in my office, Agent Doggett." Skinner 
moved to stand at 
Scully's shoulder.
Shit!
"But she was...."
"I know what she was suggesting, Agent. And I think it a wise 
precaution."
"WHAT!!"

He wasn't serious? Surely he wasn't serious. No way. He wouldn't... 
For cryin' out loud, he was the one always harping on about office 
restraint and 
maintaining  their distance at work!  How the hell was he supposed to 
maintain distance 
with his nose inches from his balls?
"I think that someone needs to..."

Mulder would have a field-day... He could never look the other agent 
in the face, 
knowing that he knew that Skinner had inspected... 
Never mind that the other man  was more than familiar with his 
equipment, it made him 
queasy to think that everyone would know what Skinner had done. An 
image of frogs on 
lab tables danced in his head. Spread out... Exposed... The gossip 
raging through  the 
building.

Doggett leaped up off the sofa, not caring that his shirt was 
untucked, mindless of 
his socked feet, not even feeling the pain and wave of sickness from 
standing too quickly.
"No thank you, very much. I'm fine. I'll just be going now." He 
started to move to the  
door.
"Agent Doggett," Skinner frowned at him. "What on earth has gotten 
into you?"
You mean besides you, sir? Doggett thought hysterically, hoping he 
didn't say that out 
loud.
"Thank you for the offer..." He nodded at Scully. "And the 
suggestion. But I think I'll 
pass, if it's all the same to you."  Would he ever!
"But aren't you hungry?"
Doggett looked blankly. "What?"

Every pair of eyes in the room stared at him. He shuffled, suddenly 
uncomfortable.
"We were referring to ordering in lunch." A familiar eyebrow 
rose. "What did you think 
we were talking about, Agent Doggett?" 
Shit.
Shit-shit-shit.
"Er..."  Doggett fingered the bottom of his shirt tail as the picture 
cleared. "Um..."

"Maybe that bang on the head was harder than we thought." Scully 
moved to stand in 
front of him, brandishing a tiny penlight. 
Where the hell did she keep that, he wondered? 
"Let me see your eyes, Agent Doggett."
He looked meekly at her as she flashed one pupil, then the other. He 
kept his eyes 
straight ahead, not trusting himself to look at either Mulder or 
Skinner. 
"Seems equal and reactive." She put the back of her hand to his 
forehead. "Do you 
have a headache?"
Yes, he thought. A great big stomping, fuckin' headache.
He lied. "No." 
No sense inviting trouble.

"He wouldn't tell you if his head was cut off," Sal said, squeezing 
between Scully 
and Skinner. "Would you, John?"
Doggett shrugged, helplessly. He moved back to the sofa and sat down, 
very gently.
Best to keep quiet. They might go away.
"I asked Kim to place an order with Gino's. Is that okay?"
Doggett looked up at him. He nodded. Anything. Cafeteria sandwiches. 
Dog food. 
Humble pie. 
Anything was fine with him.
Sal smiled.  "Perhaps Agents Mulder and Scully would like to join us?"

Doggett looked  at her. No, he tried to tell her. Not a good idea.
"Sounds great!" Mulder clapped his hands together. "What d'you say, 
Scul?"
"If it's okay with the Assistant Director."
"Not a problem, Agent Scully."

Doggett watched as Sal moved away to take Scully's arm and guide her 
to the table. 
And amazingly, Scully allowed it. He was sure she'd shoot him if he 
tried that. 
"You need to take the weight off, Dana."
Dana?? When had it become Dana?
"Sit here with me. We can swap stories about John while we wait for 
the food."

The hairs on the back of Doggett's neck stood up.
"I don't know if I have any stories you might be interested in," 
Scully smiled, allowing 
herself to be seated at the conference table.
"That's okay," Sal told her, sitting in the next chair and winking at 
Doggett.
"I have a million of them."
"Really?" Mulder moved to sit the other side of her.
"Sure." Sal laughed. "Bet you can't guess what his nickname was!"

On the sofa, Doggett put his head in his hands, wincing at the bruise 
on his face, and sighed. 
It was gonna be a long fuckin' lunchbreak.








chapter 4.

As it turned out, it wasn't that bad.  There had been a nasty moment 
when he thought 
he might pass out, moving too quickly from the sofa to the table, but 
by holding on to 
the back of the chair and breathing deeply, he managed okay. 
He would not faint. Men did not faint. Marines did not faint, he told 
himself, while his 
head warned him that any more sudden movements and he was going to 
pass out 
whether he like it or not.

He had sat very still throughout the meal, acutely aware of the hard 
chair seat, and 
the fact that he'd left his appetite on the foyer floor.  It was an 
unaccustomed struggle, 
but he managed to force down enough food to keep anyone from 
enquiring after his health.
Thankfully, Sal kept the humiliation to a minimum. Which was a minor 
miracle. 
He would have to remember to thank her, later. Buy her flowers, or 
something.
 
It could have been so much worse. 
The story about the little thing with the feminine articles and his 
football injury could 
have been omitted, but it made Mulder choke on his french bread, so 
that was good.
Even Scully laughed out loud when she heard how Doggett had let Sal 
shave his legs 
the summer she turned 15. So maybe a little humiliation was okay.

At least she'd kept it reasonably clean. 
What she didn't do, however, was keep from flirting with Skinner.
Okay, so he knew how she felt about his boss, but it was a whole 
different ball of wax 
to watch her in action, after what had happened that weekend.
Was she doing it to be outrageous? To embarrass Walt, which was 
failing miserably, 
he noted. Or was it to deflect from the reality of the situation 
between the two men?  
That was a pretty cool move, if it was.

He watched Mulder watching her with rapt concentration, bright hazel 
eyes, darting 
back and forth between her and Skinner, taking everything in. Filing 
it all away inside 
that profiler's steel-trap mind of his. Doggett wondered what he was 
making of it all. 
How did Skinner's reactions weigh up in that sorting box that was Fox 
Mulder's head?  
He wouldn't have said Skinner was flirting back, but he was relaxed, 
sociable and smiling, 
a sight he noted with interest,  kept drawing Mulder's eyes.

He hid  the last of his sandwich under his salad. Maybe that little 
talk with Walt about 
Agent Mulder's inclinations was way overdue.
"And you didn't get a spanking?" Scully asked, shaking her head, 
smiling. "My father 
would have popped a hip if he'd caught me doing that."

Sal leaned towards Doggett and pulled down on his ear. 
"Johnny took the rap for me." She kissed his unbruised cheek and let 
go of his lobe. 
"Told Papa it was his lighter."
"You smoke?" Scully asked him, laughing.
"I gave up."  Doggett rubbed his ear, mildly embarrassed.  "`Bout the 
time my father 
kicked my ass for burning down the back shed." He gave Sal a rueful 
look.  "You still 
owe me big time for that."
She laughed. "I'll think of something."
"Better be somethin' good. The old man has a hell of a left foot."
Mulder leaned forward. "You mean he really did kick your..." he waved 
vaguely.
Doggett nodded, pulling a face at the memory. "Ran across the 
backyard `specially." 
He sighed. "Should've took off when I saw him comin' for me."
Mulder looked nonplussed. "But you would've been a grown man by then."
Doggett smiled. "He's still my Pa. Age has no bearing on ass-kicking."

"Your dad must be quite a character," Skinner said, wiping his mouth 
on a napkin. 
"He's okay," Sal said. "You just have to know how to handle him."
Doggett snorted. "Daddy's girl."
"Am not!"
"Oh, please. You have him twisted round your little finger!"
"And you're not a Mamma's boy?"
Doggett willed a blush to stay down. "I don't think so."
"Hah! Yeah, right. Momma's Golden Boy."
"Kiss my ass, Daddy's Little Princess."
"Wanna bite me, Dog Boy?"

"Do you two always do this?" Skinner asked, looking from one to the 
other. 
Doggett looked at him, then at Sal. They shrugged at each other.
"Do what?" 
Skinner waved his crunched up napkin. "This... Arguing, whatever. 
Fighting."
Sal looked blank. "We're not fighting."
Skinner's eyes widened behind his glasses. "You're not?"
"Nope." She looked at Doggett. "Are we?"
He shook his head and smiled. He pointed knowingly at Skinner. "Only 
child."
Sal nodded in agreement.  "Yeah."
"That has nothing to do with it."
"It means you have no point of reference, AD Skinner."
"Reference for what?"
"Normal sibling interaction."	
"And I suppose you do?"
Doggett waved a hand at Sal. "Behold."

Skinner snorted and threw the napkin down.  "Good grief! It's not as 
if the two of 
you even grew up together."
Doggett could have sworn he heard the sound of the napkin rolling 
across the plate.
Oops. 
He looked at the other man, who suddenly realised what he's just said 
and 
swallowed. 
"I mean..."  He looked from one Doggett to the other. "There must be 
quite an age gap..." 
He trailed off, obviously floundering. 
Sal reached over and patted his hand. "Walter. How sweet of you. I 
know I look very 
young, but really... You flatterer."

Scully laughed, and broke the awkward moment. "Assistant Director, 
are you flirting 
with the visitors?"
Doggett was delighted to watch a slow blush spread over Skinner's 
face. About time, 
he thought. At last he gets to see the older man squirm.
"I...er..." Skinner pulled his hand from under Sal's, took his 
glasses off and began to 
polish them on his tie. 
Bingo! Time to play.

"Cause if you are sir, I might have something to say about it," he 
laughed, thinking 
along the lines of protective big brother. 
And then he re-thought what he'd just said, and found himself heating 
up. 
Shit. Big brother his butt. Jealous lover, more like.
Skinner stared at him, catching the double entendre.

"No, I think he's just saying Agent Doggett looks `old'." Mulder 
snorted with laughter.
Doggett could have kissed him for missing the slip.
	"Thank you, Agent Muldah. But I don't think there's that much 
between you 
and I, is there?"
Mulder muttered. "Yeah well, some of us wear it better than others."

Shoving his glasses back on his face, Skinner cleared his throat. "I 
think that maybe  
we ought to make a move to get back to work, people."
Scully pushed the plates towards Mulder. "Your turn to clean up, 
Mulder."
"Why me?" Mulder bleated.
"I'm pregnant. Sal is a guest, and John is hurt. That's why."
"What about Skinner?" Mulder pouted, relentless.
Skinner stood and leaned over.  "The Assistant Director outranks you. 
That's why."
Mulder frowned, but began to clear away the mess. Skinner turned away 
and winked at 
Doggett. 

Biting on his cheek, Doggett looked down, trying not to laugh. 
Bastard.
He felt, rather than saw, Skinner moving closer to him. The shiny 
brogues appeared at 
the edge of his vision. He tried not to think of the big feet that 
lay inside them.
"How are you feeling, John?" Skinner asked.

He hasn't called me that in front of the others before, thought 
Doggett.  He looked up. 
Over the large chest and into big brown eyes.
Oh shit. 
Too close. He was standing too close.
He cleared his dry throat. "Oh, okay, I guess." 
 
Skinner leaned down a touch and Doggett could smell his cologne. It 
was the one 
he'd bought when Skinner'd mentioned he was running low. He'd not 
been close enough 
to smell him wearing it at work before now. 
It was a scent he associated with lying in bed, licking along a 
shaven jawline, not sitting 
in an office at the FBI.

"Honestly?" Skinner pressed.
Shrugging, Doggett let his eyes slide down the silk tie in front of 
him, as a portion 
of his mind played a movie in his head. A movie where he was pulling 
that same tie 
undone, and using it to tie a large wrist to the headboard.
"A bit sore, but okay." He shifted a bit in his chair. Holy God! Now 
was not 
the time to get a woody.

The movie ran on. In his head, Skinner was spreadeagled on his bed, 
naked, sweating 
and erect...
Doggett swallowed. Oh, please God, don't let him think of erections!
"You look flushed." Skinner was peering down, his tie dangling 
loosely. 
Doggett wanted to reach out, grab it and ram his tongue between 
those  lips.
"I'm not convinced you're 100 percent, Agent Doggett."

Doggett's eyes slid off the body in front of him and a tremble ran 
through his own.
Oh God...
	"I'm fine," he lied for the second time that day, but for a 
different reason.
Please move away, Walt, he thought. I can't stand this. His head was 
hurting.

A big hand came out of nowhere and landed on his shoulder. It's heat 
burned through 
Doggett's thin shirt, and blazed a hot trail all the way down to his 
groin.
"I don't think you..." Skinner started to say, but Doggett's resolve 
had fled.
And he had to follow it, or things were going to get out of hand.

He stood quickly, knocking the hand aside, making Skinner step back 
in surprise. 
Too quickly, it seemed. 
There was a sudden flare of pain in his groin, and a rush of blood to 
his bruised head. 
It  made the room sway sickeningly.
"Shit..." he muttered, reaching to keep his eyeballs from falling out 
of their sockets. 
Everything had gone a funny grey colour, a shade that brought his 
lunch creeping up 
his gut. Perhaps if he shut his eyes a second, he'd feel better.

"Hey!"  
Skinner's hands were suddenly on him. Holding him to a large, warm 
chest that 
smelled wonderfully of cedar and spice. 
"Scully!" 
 
A deep voice full of panic, thought Doggett, as his head disappeared 
into a fuzzy 
grey bag. 
I know that voice.  
Wonder what's up with Walt, he thought as the bag slipped all the way 
over his head.





chapter 5.


Couldn't be time to get up. 
The light was all wrong. The sun didn't shine through his drapes in 
stripes.
Doggett sighed. Must be at Walt's apartment. Yeah. That was it. He 
turned his head 
and rubbed his cheek into the soft pillow. 
He was at Walt's. 
That's why he could smell him. 
He'd thought it funny that despite spending most of his time in 
Doggett's bed, there 
was always more of Skinner's scent between the sheets in Crystal City.
He must remember to ask Walt what the bed in Falls Church smelled 
like to him.

"John?"
Doggett smiled. Walt. 
No-one else had a voice that could give him a hard-on. Must be time 
to get up.
He was bone-tired. Just a bit longer. He grunted and burrowed deeper 
into the 
pillow.

"John."
He turned his head away from  the hand patting at his face. All 
things considered, 
he preferred a kiss for a wake-up call.  Five more minutes...
There was a buzzing noise that sounded like the radio. Yep. Walt's 
bed. He always set 
the radio alarm to some crappy talk-show, despite Doggett always 
waking up before it 
went off. 
Except today. He must have been tired.
"Five minutes," he muttered, resolutely keeping his eyes shut. "I'll 
get up in  five."
"Agent Doggett."
Doggett grinned. Skinner always called him that when he teased him in 
bed. 
"Yeah?" he said, wondering if Walt was angling for a spot of morning 
sex.
"Agent Doggett, open your eyes."

The grin crept up his face a bit more. Oh yeah, definitely morning 
sex. Next thing 
would be `I have something to show you' and Walt's  raging boner 
would be waving in 
front of his face.
"You want sumthin' Walt?"  
He'd make him beg this morning. Maybe on his knees. That was always 
good.
Silence. 
Playing hard to get? Okay. Fair enough.
	
"Agent Doggett."
Doggett reached out, flapped about a bit  and snagged a hand. He 
brought the hand to 
his mouth and kissed it.  "Beg," he said.
Silence.
Frowning, Doggett put one of the fingers into his mouth and bit down 
gently.
More silence. And then the hand was snatched away.
There was playing hard to get and there was bein' plain dumb.
	
"Walt?" Any second now he'd get his eyes to open.
The silence was really buggin' him now. Screwing up his eyes, he 
pulled various 
faces before getting the muscles to do what he wanted.
Walt's face swam into blurry focus above him.
"Huh?"

That was funny. He was dressed already. Couldn't have mornin' sex in 
your clothes, 
now could you?  Maybe he was... Doggett frowned as his hand patted 
down his own 
body. 
Felt like he was dressed too.
What the hell?  
He squinted and looked over Walt's shoulder.
And who the fuck was that?
Mulder?  
Doggett shook his head.
What was he doing in Walt's bedroom?

"Wass Muldah doin' here?" he slurred, his voice echoing through his 
aching head.
Did they tie one on last night? He couldn't remember.
"I work here," Mulder's voice replied, his mouth seeming to operate 
in advance of 
the words.
Doggett grimaced. "You work in Walt's apartment?"
Silence. 
"Strangely enough, no."
Well, this was just nuts. Doggett huffed out a breath. Must be a 
dream.
"m'I dreamin'?"
"Sounds like it."
"Then go away, Muldah. You don't get to be in my dreams."  
"That's a relief," Mulder's voice told him. A fuckin'smartass even in 
his sleep.	

Doggett laughed. And the only way you're gonna get Walt is in yours, 
he chuckled 
to himself.  The sound seemed to echo around inside his head. Not in 
a good way.
"JOHNNY! WAKE UP!!" 
Shit! Jesus Christ! 
Doggett's head shot round to the sound of his sister's shout. 
"WHAT!?" he yelled back, startled.
 Sal was leaning over him, shaking his shoulders hard. He blinked, 
getting her in focus
There were several Sal's floating around.
"Sal..."  Clear the throat. "What the hell?"

This was just freaky. What was Sal doin' in Walt's bedroom?  Surely 
she hadn't 
finally talked Walt into... A memory jolted him.  
Him and Walt. In bed. With a woman.
No. He didn't... God, tell me he didn't...
Doggett screwed his eyes up and shook his head violently. 
Shit, that hurt!
But it brought the floating images all into sync. He stared at Sal. 
She was fully dressed.
Thank you, God.  
Doggett sighed and brought a hand up to rub his eyes. Maddi. It had 
been Maddi, 
not Sal. 

"Not you... It was 
Maddi," he told her. "Never guess what I just thought."
He laughed in relief. 
"Agent Doggett? Can you hear me?
Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Scully as well?  He turned his head and 
stared into a little 
light. 
Not that damned thing again. 
She'd flashed that in his eyes just a while ago, in Walt's office. No 
need to do it now....
The thought trailed off miserably, dragging the image of Walt's 
bedroom with it, 
leaving a open door in Doggett's mind as it left.
And through that door poked an  image. 
One of an office. 
A lunchtime and a pair of sore balls.
Balls that now wanted nothing more than to crawl up inside his body 
and hide.

For the second time that morning, Doggett put his head in his hands 
and groaned.
Oh fuck.
Horrible. This was just horrible.
What had he said?
He tried to think, but his brain was sulking.
Cowering behind Skinner's sofa, more like.
"Agent Doggett?"  Scully. The woman was fuckin' relentless. Like a 
stumpy ginger 
terrier. He smiled behind his hands.
Someone took his wrists and pulled. He didn't have the strength to 
resist,  they fell 
down to his chest.
"Look at me, John."  Damn flashlight. 
"Hurts my eyes," he told her. `Bout time someone told her that thing 
was a fuckin' pain.
"I'm sorry. I know. Look this way."
No way. He closed his eyes. 
"John. Open up." 
He shook his head, working on the principle, if he couldn't see her, 
then she couldn't 
see him.
"John Jay Doggett, do as you're fucking well told!!"  
Obediently, his eyes shot open. "Whaddid you say to me?" he asked his 
sister, 
incredulous.
"You heard." 

He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of what he'd 
heard.
A small hand yanked his chin round, and he was staring at that light 
again. 
He groaned.
"I'm not happy with this. I want him to see a doctor."
"Thought you were a doctor," he snipped.
Scully's hand tightened on his chin. "In the hospital," she said.
"I agree. Mulder, ask Kim to call the front desk. Get an ambulance 
here." 
Skinner. Above him.

Doggett pulled his chin up to look. Upside down Walter. He narrowed 
his eyes then 
they widened. 
He was lying in Skinner's lap.
This was not good. 
Well, actually, it was good. But maybe not in front of Sal, Mulder, 
Scully and a large 
portrait of George W. Bush. Damn.
"No hospital."
"Yes, hospital," Scully told him, clicking the light off.
He scrubbed at his eyes. He hated hospitals.
"I'm fine."
A hollow laugh rattled out above him, and he craned up to look at 
Skinner.
"I don't think `fine' is quite the word, Agent Doggett."

Was he mad at him? Doggett couldn't tell from this angle. He tried to 
bend his neck 
round to see better.
"Lie still," Skinner ordered.
"Can't see you properly."
Skinner grunted. "You can see me well enough like that."
"You think he's concussed?" Sal asked.
"I hope so," Mulder answered. "Otherwise..."  He didn't say anything 
else, and nobody 
bothered to ask him what he had intended to say.
Somewhere, a phone rang. 

Perhaps if he shut his eyes, Doggett could feign sleep and nobody 
would bother him. 
Ignoring the flurry of activity out of his line of sight, Doggett let 
his eyelids slither down. 
Okay, that was better.
Voices rattled around him, he happily ignored them all. It was warm 
and dark where 
he was. Dark and safe.

"Agent Doggett!"  Scully with her little hands on his chin again. 
Shaking him back and 
forth like a terrier with a rat.
"Stoppit," he told her, lifting his hand to take her wrist.
"Then open your eyes, for me."
"No. Light hurts."
More shaking. "John. Do as Scully tells you." 
Skinner. 
Doggett opened his eyes. Smiling, he let go of Scully's hand and 
reached up.
"Walt," he said, grinning crazily, trying to pat his cheek. He missed.
"Woah!" 
Hands were suddenly all over him, grabbing and lifting.  
"What the f..."
He was placed on a cold hard something, and pinned down. This was not 
pleasant.
"No!" he struggled. He hated being tied down.
"John, it's just the paramedics, don't fight them."

Uh-uh. No good. Panic scratched at the edges of Doggett's mind. He 
tried to heave 
himself up.  Straps held him tight.
"No!"  He screwed up his face and heaved with all his strength. He 
couldn't stand this!
"John!" 
Sal was calling to him. He couldn't get to her. He struggled against 
the straps. 
What was wrong? 
Who had hid tied? He felt a hand lay in the middle of his chest.
"John. Relax."
Skinner?
Doggett frowned. "Walt?" he asked, opening his eyes a crack.
	"It's okay. Take it easy."

Doggett let himself relax. Damn, but his head hurt. He ran his tongue 
over his lips. Dry.
"Drink?" he asked. 
"Maybe later,"  Scully told him. "Let's go."
A sudden swoop of vertigo that threatened to produce his lunch and he 
was flying, 
past ceiling tiles, light fittings and elevator buttons.
If he could just get his eyesight sorted out, he might quite enjoy 
this.
If he could get hold of Walt's hand he could at least feel safe.
But he couldn't see him.
	
"Walt?"
His face appeared above him, blocking out the ceiling.
"I"m here."
That was okay then. Doggett gave a little smile.
Lights out.