Title: Victoria's Secret Revealed.
Author: Forbes
Summary: Scully and Doggett get to play baby-sitter to a witness' 
daughter, while discovering one or two things about life, the 
universe and each other...
(Oh, by the way - no Mulder, no baby. Sorry.)
Pairing: Doggett/Scully
Rating: N-17. I did try to keep it clean... But you know how it is.
Author's notes: Well, thanks to a lot of suggestions from certain 
parties, I finally did a DSR.
It's taken a while to drag myself away from D/Sk, but here y'go. I 
hope you enjoy the fun. (You can quit nagging, now Meg. And you... 
oh, abusive teacher!  Revenge is mine, okay?) 
Thanks to Georgia for keeping her lunch down long enough to beta - 
thanks babe.
Archive: Gosh - anywhere that wants to give it a home. Just let me 
know where it's gone.
Disclaimer: Oh, sure. They're mine!  Really. All of them. (Well, 
okay. Maybe just Victoria.)   Apparently, 1013 own the others.  And 
there's me thinking the fans owned them...
Feedback: sjforbesc@hotmail.com





Epilogue.

Spring, 2017.


Scully squinted into the sunshine, smiling and sipping her coffee.
It was a perfect day. Not too hot, slight breeze and just the right 
amount of people milling around to make sitting in the street-cafe 
interesting.
She sighed. The cloudless sky highlighted the intricate roof of Notre 
Dame, the light sparkling through the gaps. 
Yes. Just perfect.

"Excuse-moi?"
A woman stood to the side of her, blonde hair, holding a small child 
by the hand. A boy, of around three.
Scully put her cup down and looked up, squinting.
"Oui, Madam?"

The woman didn't reply for a moment, merely stared, nibbling her 
bottom lip.
Too well-dressed for a beggar, Scully wondered if she was going to 
ask her to take a photograph of herself and the child in front of the 
cathedral. Sit still long enough and someone would ask you.
Occupational hazard of street-cafes.
She was about to ask if that was what she wanted, when the woman 
laughed nervously, her hand fluttering up.
"I'm really sorry to bother you..." she began in English, much to 
Scully's surprise.
"Yes?"
"But I hope you don't mind if I ask you something."
Scully inclined her head. "Probably not." 
No trace of an accent in the soft voice. Not a native of France. Was 
there a hint of American in there? Scully glanced down at the woman's 
body, checking for the bulge of a weapon under her light jacket. 
She smiled at herself. Old habits died hard.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Well..." The woman laughed nervously again. "I know this sounds 
crazy, but can I ask..."
Scully's lifted an eyebrow.
"I won't bite," she said, puzzled.
The woman laughed more confidently. "Maybe not, but I wouldn't trust 
you with a handful of ice cubes!"

Scully frowned. What the hell was that all about? 
"I'm sorry." The woman held out a hand. "My name is Mariette 
LeCrousier..."
Scully took the offered hand carefully. "Hello."
She laughed. "But you didn't know me by that name."
The other eyebrow joined it's mate high on Scully's forehead. She 
didn't know this woman, she was certain.  
"Indeed? I'm sorry but..."
"What am I thinking?" She slapped a hand to her head. "How stupid of 
me. "Your name *is* Dana, isn't it? Dana Scully?"

All Scully's internal warning bells rang out. She inclined her head.
"It is..." she said, carefully, giving nothing else away. "But you 
seem to have me at a disadvantage."
The woman nodded and indicated a chair.  "May I sit down?"
"Please."  She'd humour her a little while longer. See where this was 
going.
Settled with the child on her knee, the woman smiled across at Scully.

"I haven't seen you in...gosh, it must be nearly fifteen years."
Scully frowned. Who was she?
"I guess I've changed so much." She laughed. "Of course I have.." She 
ruffled the little boy's hair.  Scully leaned forward. 
"I'm sorry. But I don't remember you at all."

"Not even the boots?"  The woman stuck a foot out and showed Scully a 
pair of heavyish tan walking boots. Incongruous, as she was wearing a 
light summer dress.
A tickle of memory waved at the back of Scully's mind. Someone else 
wearing boots like these.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand..."
The words melted away, leaving behind the memory of a cabin, an 
unruly child and a handful of ice cubes. Scully felt her mouth drop 
open.
"No..." she whispered. "It can't be..."
The woman grinned hugely. "It certainly is." She stuck her hand out 
again. "Victoria," she said.
"Or Frankie, whichever rings a bell."

Scully shook her head, astounded.
"Not Victoria... Never that, " she whispered, staring. "Tor?" she 
asked, not believing her eyes.
The woman grinned.  "In the flesh."
Scully reached out slowly and took the hand in wonder, turning it 
over in hers, a smile starting.

"I don't believe it!"
"Uh-huh. Me either. But I knew that hair from clear down the street. 
Knew it had to be you."
"But you're..."
"I know. All grown up." She smiled at the boy. "And a mother, too."
"My God..." Scully stared at the blond boy, then back at Tor.  "How 
are you? What happened to you? You got married?..."  Scully paused 
for breath and then laughed at herself.
"Listen to me! Wittering on."
Tor laughed. "Well, it's been forever, hasn't it? And yes, I'm well. 
I married a French guy I met doing post-grad work in Paris. I'm very 
happy."

Scully couldn't keep her eyes off the animated face. She was right, 
the happiness glowed out of her eyes.
"Can I ask..." Tor blushed a little, intriguing Scully. "Can I ask - 
how's Dogbreath?"
Scully threw her head back and roared with laughter. 
"I haven't heard anyone call him that since..." She wiped her eyes, 
still laughing. 
"Since that week?"
"Well, yes. I guess no-one else had the guts to call him that to his 
face."
Tor groaned. "I was horrible, wasn't I?" 
"You were great," Scully said, meaning it.

"And?" She coloured up even more. "Do you know what happened to him?" 
Scully nodded. "I sure do."
Tor shook her head, putting her hand to her forehead. "God... I tell 
you. That man was my first crush.  I was so smitten."
Scully dipped her head. "Really? I'd never have guessed, what with 
the way you beat the life out of him at every available opportunity."
Tor groaned and hid her face. "Don't! I just die when I think of 
that. I never did apologise properly for all those things."
Scully touched the back of her hand. "Maybe you could do it now. He's 
over there."

Tor turned as Doggett approached the table, carrying two plates of 
pastries.
"Made a friend?" he asked, smiling at them both. He put the plates 
down.
Tor stared, then looked down at the table and up at Scully, her mouth 
open.

Scully held up her hand. "John. I'd like to re-introduce you to 
someone."  
She waved her hand, turning  to the woman. "John, this is the only 
other person, apart from myself, who can claim to biting your ear."

The look on Doggett's face made them both laugh.
He peered closely at Tor. "My God...it isn't?"
"It sure is." Tor gave him a grin. "Sorry about your ear. But it was 
just too tempting."
Doggett put a hand up to his head, then smiled and held his arms out.
"C'mere, Trouble," he said, laughing and pulled her into a hug.

Scully watched them squeeze each other tight, then smiled as Tor 
pulled away, blushing furiously. The memories of fifteen years ago 
were obviously still capable of affecting her. Must have been a hell 
of a crush.
"How come you're here, in Paris?" Tor asked, re-arranging her 
jacket. "You on a case?"

Scully laughed. "I don't think so! We've both been retired for 
years." She smiled at Doggett. 
"This was a surprise trip for my tenth anniversary."
"*Our* anniversary," he corrected her.
"Yes, dear."
"You two married?" Tor exclaimed. "Oh, that is so cool! I just knew 
you two'd get it on."

The memories of fifteen years ago still had the power to affect 
*her*, Scully thought, feeling the colour enter her own cheeks.
"Damn woman threw herself at me," Doggett grumbled, warding off a 
smack from his wife.
"I did not!"
They smiled at one another, re-playing those memories.

"And who's this little chap?" Doggett asked, bending at the knees to 
look at the boy at eye-level.
Scully looked questioningly at Tor, who shrugged and smiled. 
"This is my son. His name is John."






Chapter 1 

FBI Building. 2002.
Monday morning - 8.45am.




"With all due respect, sir, when did the X Files division become a 
baby-sitting service?" 
Scully's tone left no doubt as to her opinion on the matter. This was 
ridiculous. They were trained professionals - not rent-a-nanny.

Skinner sighed.
"Since this morning, Agent Scully. And it's hardly  baby-sitting. The 
subject may be a minor, but she is certainly not a `baby'." He pushed 
a folder over the desk top. "The reason you and Agent Doggett have 
been assigned this duty is all laid out in here."
Her lips pressed together in a thin, uncompromising line, Scully 
reached out and all but snatched the folder up.

The root of her bad temper of course, wasn't that she objected to the 
assignment per se, it was more the fact that it meant she would be 
spending the better part of a week in the close company of Agent 
Doggett. Undercover was bad enough, but on top of that, they had to 
pretend to be a married couple.
Damn.
God must really hate her. 
Either that or He had a particularly strange sense of justice. Or 
humour. 

She sighed, flicking through the documents, frowning. 
It had been tough enough trying to hide her growing fascination with 
her partner within the relatively safe boundary of the work place, 
but now that curiosity had turned into something that felt 
dangerously close to attraction, how the hell was she going to keep 
that fact concealed?
And conceal it, she must.
Conceal the fact that she must be going out of her mind to be 
attracted to a man that was so out of bounds he should have barbed-
wire wrapped around him.

Glancing sideways, she watched Doggett's mouth working at one of his 
grins. She could just imagine him finding this hysterically funny. He 
probably thought it was worth the hassle of being stuck looking after 
some snot-nose, just to see her fur ruffled.
Well, he was going to see ruffled, alright.

She tossed the folder back down on the desk.  "I see no reason why 
another department couldn't have been used." She folder her arms 
defensively.
"The problem was inside the DEA. Absolutely any pairing from another 
division could be used." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless 
we're being singled out for another reason?"

Skinner sighed again.
"No, Agent Scully. There is not mysterious agenda. The DEA merely 
wanted two unknown agents..."
Scully bristled, and Skinner held up a placating hand. "That is to 
say, unknown to any officer within the DEA. You and Agent Doggett 
haven't been up there in so long I doubt any of the current officers 
know you." He shrugged. "Ergo: you'll be able to carry off the 
assignment without fear of identification." He frowned. "And without 
getting the witness' daughter killed."
Scully scowled right back at him.
"I still think..."

"I'm quite aware of what you think, Agent Scully." Skinner sat back 
in his chair. "And while I understand your disinclination to act as 
guardian to this child, the fact  remains that threats have been made 
on her life, and unless she is guaranteed safety, her mother has 
refused to continue testifying. And I'm sure you realise how vital it 
is to weed out corruption within any official body."
"But why must we assume identities and..." She flapped her hand 
derisively. "Pretend to go on vacation? Surely a hotel with mounted 
guards would be just as effective?"
The idea of being on vacation with John Doggett both appalled and 
excited her. She wasn't sure which it was that was making her 
tremble. 
She folded her arms again, to keep them still.

"Hotels can be breached."
"And a rustic cabin in the middle of nowhere is a better option?"
She and Skinner glared at one another.

Doggett held up a hand. "Can I say something?"
They both turned their glares on him.
Doggett smiled way too cheerfully for Scully's liking. "As I see it, 
we get a week out someplace peaceful, enjoying the weather, looking 
after some poor little kid whose mother was in the wrong place, at 
the wrong time." He shrugged and looked at Scully. "What's wrong with 
that?"
She opened her mouth to say exactly what she thought was wrong with 
that, but Skinner leapt into the pause.
"Glad one of you can see sense."

Unfazed by the acidic stare that Scully shot him, Skinner merely 
lifted an eyebrow and pressed his intercom.
"Kimberley, would you send in the identity documentation, please."  
He looked at each agent in turn. 
"You will follow FBI procedure on Witness Protection. An unmarked car 
and false papers will be issued for you all. Addresses are provided 
in a sealed envelope and should not be opened until you are in 
transit. No direct communication with the Bureau, as per usual - a 
safe number to call is listed with the ID's." 
He paused for effect. "You will take this more than seriously, 
Agents. There is not only one child's life at stake, but an entire 
web of corruption within the realms of law-enforcement. Do not take 
this lightly." He stared at Scully as he said these words.

"You will be contacted at the end of the week to inform you that the 
child's mother has completed her testimony. At that time she will 
rejoin her mother for witness relocation."
He looked from one to the other. "Any questions?"

"No sir," Doggett replied. 
Scully just nodded curtly, her lips still rigid with displeasure. She 
was beyond ruffled. A week in the country with the man sitting next 
to her. A man she would have to pretend to be married to. 
Her fur was standing on end with sheer panic.


                                    *

"What the hell?!" 
Doggett looked up from the wad of papers at her outraged tone. "Huh?"
Scully held the ID between two fingers. "Have you seen this?" she 
demanded loudly.
"Not yet. Still tryin' to decipher these directions."
Scully waved the identity paperwork in the air, her face contorted 
with indignation. Someone was going to feel the rough edge of her 
tongue for this. She thrust the papers out to her infuriatingly calm 
partner.
"Do I look like a `Kerry' to you?"  She demanded.
Doggett shrugged. "Dunno. Lemme see what they've given us." He stood 
at her side, peering at the ID's. He pulled a face at the photo the 
Protection Team had used for him. 
She tried not to turn to look at him, or inhale his aftershave.
Difficult. Very, very difficult.

"Damn. I look like an insurance clerk."
Scully ignored him and pointing with disgust, tryig to maintain her 
anger with him standing so close.
"These false ID's are appalling."
"Yeah?"
Damn, he still didn't get it. There was no way on earth she was 
a `Kerry'.  Not in a million years.
No way. `Kerry' was that horrible girl from 9th Grade, that called 
her ginger-nut, stole her Biology notes and spread that nasty rumour 
about her, Bobby Ryan and the popsicle.

She pouted, looking down, mightily put-out.  "How come you get the 
nice name?"
Doggett scanned his side of the paperwork and grinned. "So, you 
like `Michael'?"
"It's okay."
"For a saint, maybe."
That a slight smile. "You don't think you qualify?" 
Doggett grinned. "Not since I could walk away from my Mama." He 
glanced at the papers again. Then did a shocked double-take. "Holy 
shit..." he muttered.
Scully stared at him, shocked. It wasn't like Doggett to curse in 
front of her.
"What?"

He shook his head. "Damn. Someone up in Witness Protection has one 
hell of a twisted sense of humour."
"What d'you mean?"
Doggett poked at the paper gripped in her hand. "Take a look at the 
rest of it."
Obediently, Scully looked. "Michael Stephen Hunt." She shrugged. "So?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Try again."
Scully looked blankly at him. "Michael Hunt."
"Shorten it."
"Mike..." Dawning realisation blossomed on her face, followed by a 
huge grin. "Oh, I see..."

A full-bodied chuckle bubbled out of her, making Doggett smile in wry 
amusement.
She let the papers drop to the desk as she laughed helplessly, trying 
to wipe her eyes without destroying her make-up.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt as helplessly 
hysterical as this. Not in this office, at any rate. Certainly not 
since she started noticing the way Doggett wore his shirts, or 
recognising the smell of his aftershave on strangers.
The name whispered itself in her head and she gasped for breath.
"Oh, god... Doggett. That's priceless!" A fresh wave of mirth almost 
doubled her over. She gripped her belly.

Doggett sighed. "Yeah. Just peachy, ain't it? But I wouldn't get too 
carried away, if I were you."
"Oh yes?" Pausing with a finger under her eyelid, Scully smiled up at 
him. "Why's that?" 
"Yours ain't so great, either, lady."
She grinned. "I daresay I can live with `Kerry'. All things 
considered."
He grinned back at her. "You tried considering it with the surname?"
She shook her head. "Kerry Hunt. So?" 
"Swap the initials over."
Herry...."  Scully's grin fell off so fast she imagined Doggett 
could  hear the crash as it hit the floor.
"Son of a..."  A blush raced over her face.  "Damn!"
"Just peachy, huh?"

Mirth forgotten, Scully straightened up. "I'm going to complain." She 
could not, would not go through the next week with that name. The 
stares and sniggers would be relentless.
"Bit late for that." Doggett glanced at his watch. "We've gotta be 
outta here in fifteen. The rendezvous point'll take at least three 
hours to reach at this time of day." He gathered up the paperwork and 
stuffed it into its folder. "And I don't know `bout you, Agent 
Scully, but I gotta do some serious packin'."
"But..."
"Hey," He paused at the door. "It's just for the week. We can live 
with dumb names for that long."
Scully knew she looked dubious.
"An' just think. There's probably some poor devil carryin' those 
names around for real. Least we get to ditch them."
Scully

She  sighed. "I suppose." She was still very unhappy about it. "I'm 
definitely going to complain to Skinner when we get back, though."
"You do that," he told her, holding the door open. She glared at his 
innocent face. That had better not have been a patronising tone in 
his voice.
"I will," she promised him, heels clicking indignantly on the 
flooring.
The basement door clicked shut behind them, and as Doggett followed 
Scully's outraged back up the corridors.
She shook her head as she stalked ahead, telling him silently that he 
should be grateful that he wasn't going to be the smartass in Witness 
Protection, when the severely pissed Agent Scully came calling.





chapter 2.



"Is this it?" Scully peered out of the car window. The warehouse 
looked decidedly abandoned.
Abandoned and filthy dirty by the look of it. Great.
Doggett checked the name of the building on his lap. "I guess. The 
name's the same."
Scully huffed and sighed. "Come on then. Let's check it out." 
She climbed out of the unmarked Bucar and stomped off across the 
gravel.  Let's hear it for the government's choice of rendezvous-
points. Couldn't be a nice clean motel. Oh, no. They got to do this 
in some disgusting old warehouse that looked like it'd been used as a 
truck graveyard.
Great.
Doggett beeped with the keyring and followed in Scully's wake. 

She had showered, changed and packed in record time, but her mood was 
still the same. Severely pissed. What the hell was she supposed to 
pack for a week in the country with a man she would like to see 
wearing very little?  It had taken longer than she anticipated to 
choose her clothes and she'd been late meeting Doggett, who'd take 
great delight in doing the old `women are always late' routine.
Glancing behind to check he was following, she watched as he swung 
the keys round in his hand. No doubt he was quite looking forward to 
a week in the boondocks. She sighed, taking in his relaxed 
statement. She suppose it did beat pushing papers in the basement.
Well, it might, if her mood improved.

Which it hadn't, the instant she laid eyes on him, getting out of the 
unmarked car.
Damn. 
Just when she had convinced herself she wasn't going to think about 
him in anything but cold, professional terms, he turns up looking 
like something out of a casting call for Lonesome Dove.
Matching light denim jeans and jacket, with blindingly white tee 
shirt.
Shit. Almost as if he knew of her weakness for the `cowboy' look, and 
dressed accordingly to mess with her mind.
And that damned crooked grin didn't help any.
She was torn between wanting to smack it off his face and put her 
mouth on it.
She sighed and dodged a large oil-spill. It was going to be a hell of 
a long week.

Stepping into the darkened building, Doggett squinted to get his eyes 
used to the gloom.
Scully stood doing the same thing.
"You sure this is the right place?" she asked again, her tone a 
little snippy.
She still wasn't over the whole denim-tee thing.
Doggett just made a noise in his throat, not bothering to defend his 
map-reading skills.

"Hey."
The voice came from the shadows, followed by a large man.
Both hands went to their guns. "Who are you?" Doggett asked, wary.
"A.A. Milne's little friend."
They relaxed. It was the DEA.
"Tell Tigger we said: hi," Scully replied, wondering for the life of 
her who thought  up such dumb passwords.
"You're late," the man snapped, turning away. He strode across the 
dirty warehouse floor, not checking to see if the agents were 
following him. 

Doggett exchanged a glance with Scully, rolling his eyes.  "Another 
Charm-School drop-out," he muttered. They caught up with the other 
agent way over the other side of the building, by a broken doorway. 
He pushed it open with bad grace.
"Okay. Your Mommy and Daddy are here, Victoria."
A petulant voice snapped from inside the dark room.
"We all know damn well they're not my `Mommy and Daddy. And my name's 
*Frankie*, doofus." 
The man sighed.  "I told you. Your name's `Victoria' from now on."
"I don't like that name. It's soppy."
The DEA man rolled his eyes. "Maybe you'd like being dead, better."

Scully's eyes widened.  Doggett frowned. That was a little harsh.  
She was just a kid.
"Hey..." he started to say.
Quick as a flash, the kid snapped back out of the dark. "And maybe 
you'd like to kiss my ass, shithead."
Doggett closed his mouth. Seemed his help wasn't needed.
"I'd prefer to spank it," Large knuckles rapped the door. "Now get 
yourself out here, *Victoria*. Right now."
Nothing happened.

"NOW!"  The agent shouted, clearly starting to lose it.
"I'm not going nowhere with any lame-ass Fibbies, I told you that, 
already." 
The angry statement was accompanied by the sound of something being 
thrown across the room.
"And my goddamned name's FRANKIE!"
With a sigh, the DEA man chewed on his lip, fists clenched.
"Now, Victoria," he began, trying to be reasonable. "You know we have 
to get you out of town."
"Oh, fuck you."

There was a moment to silence from all three adults as the words 
echoed around the room.
Scully caught sight of Doggett's mouth dropping open. He turned and 
looked at her,
his face a picture.
Scully raised an eyebrow. The kid had balls, you had to give her that.
"I won't tell you again..." The DEA man tucked his gun into its 
holster.
"Well, there's a relief.  Means I won't have to tell you to go..."
With a grunt, the man disappeared inside the room.
The two `lame-ass' Fibbies stood and stared into to the darkness. By 
the sound of it, there was hell of a struggle going on in there.
"Get the hell offa me!"
"You little...!"
"OW!"
"Shit!"

Doggett snatched a look at Scully. Shall I go in there, his eyebrow 
asked?
A small shake of the head - I wouldn't if I were you, she wordlessly 
replied.
"Get out..."  A grunt of pain.
"Hey! You fuckin' perv... OW! Leggo!"
Something wooden splintered and the DEA man emerged, his arms full of 
hissing and spitting child, his face screwed up in obvious pain. The 
girl clamped upside-down in his arms struggled and fought.
"You-goddam-fuckin'-pervert-you're-not-gonna-get-away-with-this...  
Just-you-put-me-down-and-I'll-rip-your-fuckin'-balls-off..." 
Unceremoniously, the agent dropped the girl down in a foul-mouthed 
heap at his feet.
"Shit..." she gasped, the breath knocked out of her.
"Here," he panted, dusting his hands down.  "She's all yours."

Doggett and Scully looked down.
`Victoria' glared up at them. 
She was 13, the paperwork said. Lived in the projects over by the 
bridge, a kid that obviously saw life from the sharp end, by the 
sound of it, and one whose mother had been unfortunate enough to 
witness an alleged triple homicide by a police officer.

Doggett stared at the child at his feet. She didn't look 13.  She 
didn't actually look much like a girl, either, but that was probably 
more to do with the poisonous look on her face than anything else.  
The blond hair was cut very short, and she wore a Redskins shirt over 
ripped jeans.
They might have been trendy rips, he couldn't tell.
"Er... Hi," he said.
No reply.
Scully leaned over and gave it a go. "Hello, Victoria. We've been 
assigned to be your guardians until after your mom testifies."
No reply. Just another scowl. 

The DEA man fingered a patch over his eye that looked like it would 
bruise up by the morning.
"Okay. You've got the instructions, I trust?"
Doggett nodded, his gaze dropping  to the crumpled heap on the 
floor. `Victoria' hadn't moved.
"Well. You'd better get going to the safe house, then."
"I guess." Doggett  held out his hand to the girl. "Coming?"
"No."
Doggett nodded. "I really think you should."
"Do I have a goddamned choice?" She snapped.
"Not really," Doggett shrugged, giving her a smile.

"Hey. You could just sit there and wait to get shot," the other guy 
suggested sourly, poking his bruise.  "Works for me."
Doggett glanced up at him, frowning.
"I don't think that attitude is helping," Scully told him.  This guy 
was obviously not a great advertisement for the Juvenile Division.
He just held up his other hand. "Look. I gotta report back. Why don't 
you just get her out of here?"

Scully nodded brusquely and turned to Doggett.  "Can you bring the 
car around?" 
He glanced at her, standing a touch too close for comfort, those blue 
eyes burrowing into hers.
She swallowed. Oh, lord... Give me strength, she prayed.
Watching for a moment as he jogged away, she exchanged glances with 
the other agent and then both stared at the girl on the floor.
She was muttering a fine selection of obscenities under her breath, 
scratching at the dirt with a filthy nail. Scruffy hair, grubby 
clothes. The kid looked like a poster child for detergent
The `before' picture.

"Good luck," the DEA guy muttered as Doggett appeared at the 
warehouse doors. "You're gonna need it."
She pulled a face behind his back as he walked away. 
Then she contemplated how they were going to get the girl in the car 
with all of them in one piece.



                                    *



The sound of the radio slipped down a notch as Scully leaned forward 
and turned the dial.
"Either of you two want to stop to use the bathroom? There's one 
coming up in a mile or so." 
In the back seat, Doggett nodded. "Yeah, please." 
She watched in the mirror as he absently rubbed his shoulder. Little 
Miss Victoria had caught him with her sneaker in the struggle to get 
her in the car. Scully wasn't at all sure it had been an accident.
"How about you, Victoria?" Scully asked.

Doggett turned to glance at the girl. She was sitting as far away 
from him as humanly possible, scrunched up against the door, arms 
folded over her chest, face turned away and scowling.
"Hey..." Doggett reached over to touch her shoulder. "Your mama's 
askin' you a question."
Flinching away and head whipping round, she opened her mouth to say 
something, but Doggett held up a finger.
"I told you," he said firmly. "An' the DEA guy told you. You gotta be 
undercover from now on. No `your not my parents', no `my name's not 
Victoria'. You hear?"
There was a grunt for a reply.
"That a `yes'?" Doggett persisted. 
The grunt again, and she turned her head away.

Sighing. Doggett caught Scully's eye in the rear-view. "I think that 
was a `yes', Ma."
"If you say so," Scully smiled. She knew she'd got the better deal, 
up front.
"I'll pull over at the next turn off."
"Do I get to drive, then?" he asked, hopefully.
"I'll think about it."

She smiled in the mirror to let Doggett know he wouldn't be getting 
to drive any time soon.  To hell with equality, Scully thought to 
herself, glancing in the mirror again. She'd seen the battle to get 
that child in the backseat and she didn't feel any pressing need to 
share in the experience.
No thank you, sir. She'd leave the physical stuff up to Doggett.  She 
smiled to herself. He was better built for it, anyway. 
Then she frowned. 
She would not think about how Doggett was built. Uh-uh. No way.
That way lay madness.

"So," she began, trying to break the silence with a little small 
talk. "I suppose we should get to know one another."
A resounding silence came from the back of the car.
Scully cleared her throat and tried to ignore the response. Or lack 
of it.
"My name's Special Agent Dana Scully, but during this operation, I 
have to pretend to be your mom. My undercover name is..." She fought 
the urge to snarl the name out. "`Kerry'." 
No response again. She lifted her eyes from the road and glanced at 
Doggett. He was staring back at her.  Wearing one of his smart-ass 
grins.
Scully narrowed here eyes. Oh, yeah, Mr Hunt. Real funny.

"That man sitting there is your `dad'. He's called Mike in this 
operation." The temptation to add the rest of the cover name was 
overwhelming, but out of deference to the child's age, she held her 
tongue.  
"Yeah?" Victoria raised her head. "Well, I'm real happy to meet the 
pair of you lame-asses."
Scully's eyebrow lifted. Progress. Almost a conversation. "We're 
pleased to meet you, too, Victoria."
The girl scowled. "It's Frankie."
"Sorry, but for the rest of this week, it's not." Scully told her.
She got a glare in the mirror for her trouble.
Silence reigned as the car sped on.

Eventually, a small sigh was heaved from the rear passenger.
"So what's your real name?" Scully heard her ask Doggett.
There was a pause, when she wondered if he was going to ignore the 
girl as some kind of punishment, but then he cleared his throat and 
answered.
"John Doggett."
Victoria gave very unlady-like snort. "What?"
Doggett didn't reply this time.
"Oh my god! What a dumb name! Doggetty-Dogbreath!" She laughed.
Scully sucked her lip between her teeth and squashed a smile. Not 
fair to join in the fun.

"Glad you think it's funny," Doggett told her, dryly.
"I said it's *dumb*. Not funny."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Whatever."
Conversation over, silence blossomed, feasting on the hostilities in 
the backseat.



chapter 3.


Parking next to a camper at the far end of the rest stop, Scully 
killed the engine and turned slightly in her seat.
"I think we should all get out and go together."
Doggett nodded. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan."
Over the other side of the car Victoria snorted. "You think I'm gonna 
pee with you two watchin'?"
The two looked at her then at each other.
"That wasn't what I meant," Scully began.
"You're tellin' me." A dirty finger jabbed out. "He ain't gonna get 
his rocks off watchin' me take a whizz."
Doggett's mouth dropped a little.
"An' you." The finger poked at Scully. "I'm not havin' some dyke 
bitch hovering over me, neither."

"I'm not a...." Scully started to say, before realising the girl had 
succeeded in pushing her buttons. 
"Look," she sighed and spread her hands. "You need to understand 
that we need to keep you as much in our sight as is possible. For 
your own safety, Victoria. And while that will not include watching 
you conduct matters of a personal nature, is does include walking in 
public areas with you. Understand?"
No answer.
Doggett sighed and shook his head.  Maybe it was sinking in that this 
week wasn't going to be as peaceful as he imagined, Scully thought. 
Good.
"Victoria," he said.  "You were asked a question."
"Don't call me that," the girl replied, pouting.
Doggett rubbed his eyes wearily. "We have to. That's what's on your 
ID."
"I hate it. It's soppy and girly."
Doggett bit back the obvious remark that it was because she was a 
girl, and ground his teeth.

"What about `Vicky', then?" Scully suggested, taking the role of 
peacekeeper.
"No." The pout deepened.
"Vi?" 
There was no reply, other than a scowl as her face turned away.
"I knew a girl once in grade school," Doggett began. "She wasn't all 
girlie and soppy. She was real cool. Played soccer for the county and 
fought just like a boy." 
Two women turned to look at him. He hesitated under their gaze, but 
plunged on.
"Her name was Victoria as well, but she'd punch anyone out who called 
her that." He looked from one pair of wide eyes to the other, 
obviously embarrassed with this sharing of recollection.
"Anyway. She made us call her `Tor'." He shrugged. "How about that?"

There was silence as the small passenger considered the idea.
Doggett pulled a face at Scully's questioning eyebrow and upturned 
eyebrow.  He looked most uncomfortable. He'd be  answering some 
serious questions on this later, she promised herself. 
"Well?" he prompted.
Victoria looked at him. It might be her imagination, but there looked 
to be a shade less hostility in her face.
"I suppose it's better than the other ones," she admitted, grudgingly.
Doggett grinned, letting out a breath. "Good. `Tor' it is. Now I 
really do gotta pee, so let's go."
Scully caught a slight flash of amusement on the grubby face, then 
the shutters came down and she  clamped the `sullen' mask on again.
"You don't get to watch," she said again with a glare.
"Trust me, I wasn't planning on it," Doggett breathed, slamming the 
door behind him and taking up a position on the other side of the 
girl, sandwiching her between him and Scully as they began to walk up 
to the restrooms.

                                    *


Leaning up against the wall, Doggett sighed and checked his watch 
again as Scully  emerged from the ladies.  Damn, but he looked good, 
tee shirt stretched across his chest.
She groaned inside. 
Oh, Lord. Why must you make my life so hard...?

"Why does it always take you women three times as long to `go' as 
men?"  Doggett asked.
"I didn't realise I was being timed," she said, shaking her damp 
hands.
"I wasn't timing you," he told her, blushing a little. "It's just 
that I seem to spend huge chunks of his life standing outside women's 
lavatories, waiting for women  to do whatever it was they do inside 
them."
Scully studied his face. She like that colour on him. Caught-out 
pink.  It made the tips of his ears  stand out. 
It looked quite sweet. 
She surprised herself thinking that. That wasn't a word she would 
have thought to describe her partner. And then despite her best 
intentions, she followed it up by idly wondering what it would take 
to make him do it again.

She inclined her head. "We do exactly the same as men. Only we have 
to wait in line to sit, rather than standing to do it, side by side."
Bingo. It didn't take much, after all. Well, that was a surprise. 
She watched the faint blush slide away.  She would have to avoid 
making him do this again.
Pinked-up ears didn't help her battle against his attraction, at all.
She shook her hands again and peered into the ladies.
"Wonder if I should..." she pondered aloud.
Doggett shook his head. "I shouldn't. She'll probably scream the 
place down."
She nodded. "You're right. I'll give her a little longer."

From the corner of her eye, she watched Doggett exchange rolled eyes 
with a man standing impatiently with a poodle.
"Women, eh?" Doggett said, nodding his head at the doorway.
"Tell me about it. Three daughters, two wives." The man shook his 
head. "Spend my life out here."
Doggett laughed. "I hear ya."
Scully watched, entranced by his laugh. All teeth and crinkled up 
eyes. It looked good.
Damn. 
She wasn't winning this battle.

"This your lady wife?" The man asked, smiling down at Scully.
She opened her mouth to deny everything, remembering at the last 
instant who she was supposed to be.
Doggett was apparently ahead of her. "Yeah," he said casually, 
resting a large hand on her shoulder.

Scully stared at the hand. Strong fingers, clean nails. And on her 
shoulder. 
She swallowed. 
Oh shit.
She could feel the warmth of his skin through her tee-shirt. It was 
nice. Too damned nice.
The heat from his hand seemed to be bleeding down into the pit of her 
stomach, warming her inside.
Damn, that made her feel weird.
"You'll be well used to this, then," the man was saying, including 
Doggett in some secret brotherhood of restrooms. 
"Oh, yeah," Doggett replied, squeezing her shoulder. "You got that 
right."

The pressure of his hand made Scully feel even stranger. And even 
warmer.
Oh, God. 
Help me.
She glanced at the restroom doorway, not daring to look up at 
Doggett - she was sure the distress on her face would be screamingly 
obvious.
What the hell was the matter with her? She had been in contact with 
him plenty of times.
Never bothered her before. 
Ah. But that was before her body had decided John Doggett  was 
something out of the ordinary - something worth taking an interest in.
Damn her body.
Damn her hormones. And damn him for being him.

"I'm going to see what Tor's up to," she said, sliding out from under 
his hand. Her shoulder immediately missed the warmth. She risked 
glanced at Doggett. 
He grinned at her. "Don't be long, honey," he told her, winking.
Someone was enjoying this role-play way too much.  Here she was, torn 
in little ragged pieces over this stupid attraction, and he was 
enjoying himself. 
Oh, but he was going to pay for that.
She lifted her eyebrow at him, allowing him a hint of the trouble 
that was coming his way, then allowed herself a small stab of 
satisfaction as his grin faltered.

"I won't," she replied, tilting her head and moving into the 
lavatories.
She and Agent Doggett were going to have a little chat about 
boundaries and professional conduct in the very near future.
She scanned left and right in the block.
Unfortunately, she had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't going to enjoy 
broaching that subject as much as she thought she might.

She frowned as a stout woman emerged from the furthest cubicle. There 
was only one stall occupied. That had to be Tor.
She called out. "Tor... Hurry up, will you?"
Standard silence from the other side. Scully frowned. This kid was 
starting to piss her off in a big way.
"Tor. Come on!" 
Silence again.
Lifting her fist, Scully began to pound on the door.
"Will you..." Her voice trailed off as the door slowly swung open to 
reveal and empty toilet stall and an appallingly open window.
"Oh, shit..." 

Reams of paperwork concerning lost witnesses ran through her mind 
like ticker-tape, closely followed by a large round of bullets.
Shit!  "Michael!"  She yelled as loudly as she could, turning from 
the accusing stall. "Dammit! MICHAEL!!" 
She yelled again, hoping that the belated realisation that *he* was 
supposed to be Michael, would stir Doggett from his leaned pose 
outside the toilet.

Apparently not.
Scully came barrelling out of the door.
"Didn't you hear me yell?" she demanded, furiously. Some undercover 
agent he turned out to be.
"I didn't..." he started to explain, but Scully held up her hand.
"We don't have time for this- she's gone out of the window!"
"What?!"
She made impatient motions with her hand and started to run around 
the other side of the building. "Crawled through and took off. She's 
gone!"

Shit... damn.
Scully caught a glimpse of the poodle man shaking his head in 
amusement before she moved away.
"Which way?" Doggett asked, scanning the fields around the rest stop.
"Don't know," Scully admitted, doing the same. "Split up. You go that 
way," she pointed. "I'll go that." 
She heard him mutter `Damn!' under his breath as he took off across 
to the left and started to sprint away.
Damn, was right. How the hell could they let this happen? They'd only 
had the kid half a day.
FBI career over and out.
All because of one foul-mouth urchin.
She was gonna kill her when she found her.


                                    *


Thank God she'd worn flats.
She'd never have been able to do this cross-country stuff in heels, 
that was for sure.
Squinting into the sun, she made out the glimpse of white that 
betrayed Doggett's position.
Straight ahead, about three hundred yards, she estimated and began to 
jog.
Feeling the weight of her gun bouncing uncomfortable  in its holster 
on her leg, Scully pushed a strand of hair from her forehead and 
tried to settle into a steady rhythm.

The sound of Doggett's piercing, two-fingered whistle had stopped her 
haring off across another shit-covered field in the nick of time. 
Small mercies, and all that.
These shoes had been expensive. She was sure there wasn't a cleaning 
agent in the world that could get cow shit out of beige suede.

As she jogged nearer to Doggett, she frowned. What on earth?  She 
expected him to be standing - he wasn't.
Kneeling, by the look of it. Maybe  he was hurt? Scully picked up the 
pace a little. 
Drawing nearer, the sound of steady cursing reached her ears.
That sounded familiar.
"Get off, you asshole!"
"Not a chance, miscreant."
"Whaddyou call me?"
"Look it up."
"Look it up your ass - get offa me!"

"I see you found her," Scully said, resting her hands on her thighs 
to get her breath back.
"Yeah..." 
He was lying propped up on the grass, one knee pinning Tor's legs 
down, his left hand holding both her wrists over her head. Both of 
them were red-faced and angry.
Doggett had a large grass-stain across one shoulder and mud down one 
leg of his jeans.
It looked to have been quite a struggle.
Tor didn't seem to be any worse the wear for the tussle. But then it 
was hard to tell, she'd been a mess to start with.  

Doggett grunted as her raised knee dug painfully into him. "Quit 
that, will ya?" he snapped at the wriggling body beneath him.
"Kiss my ass!" The knee came up harder.
"I oughta..."  A vein on the side of Doggett's neck bulged alarmingly.
"I think you could let her go, now," suggested Scully. "There are two 
of us, now."

Doggett grunted, took his hands from around the two smaller wrists 
and tried to stand up.
"Fuckin' pervert!" Tor yelled, lashing out with one freed hand, 
catching Doggett a stinging slap across his face.
Scully winced at the sharp sound. 
Damn, that had to hurt. Even Tor looked a little shocked at the sound.
Scully straightened up, ready to stop Doggett from pounding the girl 
into the grass.
There were probably regulations about spanking a witness, but she 
wouldn't blame, him one bit.
He sat back on his heels, his hand coming up to touch his cheek.

"That hurt," he said quietly.
Tor didn't reply, just stared. Scully wondered if she was weighing up 
her chances with a smart-ass remark or another slap.
"Don't do it again," he told her, rising up. 
Scully raised an eyebrow at his restraint. She didn't know if she 
would have been able to keep her hands off the kid after a smack like 
that.

"You okay?" she asked. Stupid question, but there wasn't much else 
she could say.
"Uh-huh," he replied, staring at the crumpled girl at their feet. 
Muddy fingers rubbed his jaw, working it from side to side. "I'll 
live."
Scully's hand was raised up halfway to touch his face before she 
realised what it was doing. 
She pushed it back down, tightening it into a fist. 
The temptation was overwhelming. To reach out and run her fingers 
over his cheek.
Damn.
She turned away quickly and pointed at Tor.
"You. Get up."   

To her amazement, the girl did as she was told. Wonders would never 
cease.
Scully decided a small lecture was in order. Nothing like sexual 
tension to get the blood flowing.
She stepped into the girl's personal space.
"Understand this, Victoria. We are here to keep you alive. We are 
here to protect you and care for you. We are not here to chase across 
fields or search restrooms for you..." Jabbing a finger under Tor's 
nose to make each point, Scully raised her voice accordingly.
"We cannot do our job if you insist on running away. If it happens 
again, I will have no alternative but to handcuff you when we reach 
the cabin. Is that understood?"
"You wouldn't dare!" Tor's chin came up with a belligerent jerk. 
"Oh, yes I would. To keep you from endangering yourself and us, I 
will do it. Trust me."
Dark eyes flashed angrily. "Bitch."
"If you say so.

She glared at the girl, daring her to argue.  She could do `angry' 
better than this little kid. She'd had years of practise.  
"Dyke bitch."
"Whatever." Scully glared harder, not bothered by the name-
calling.  "And I'll tell you something else, too. If I have to 
restrain you - I'll have no hesitation in doing it with you in your 
underwear."
The outrage on Tor's face was almost enough to make her smile, if she 
hadn't been so angry.
"I don't suppose you'll be all that keen on running out on us in your 
undies, would you?"
"You wouldn't fuckin' dare!"
"Oh, but I would."
"No way - it's a violation of my rights!"
"So is being dead," Scully told her, reaching for a muddy hand. "Now 
walk nicely with me back to the car."

There was the expected resistance.
"Don't wanna hold your hand like some baby."
"Then you shouldn't have run off like one, should you?" Scully pulled 
again. She sighed when Tor refused to budge.
"Here's the plan, Victoria..."
"That's not my name."
"Oh, yes it is, until you start acting less like a five-year-old. So 
like I said. Here's the plan. Either you walk holding my hand..." She 
paused for dramatic effect. "Or I get your `father' to carry you back 
over his shoulder."
"No way!"

Scully lifted her eyebrow in question. She had no doubt that Doggett 
would be more than happy to drag Tor's squealing body back to the car 
and throw her in, judging by the look on his face.
Tor obviously thought so to, as she glanced over to him.
She sighed and began to walk, dragging Scully forward with a sharp 
pull. "Come on, then. Move your fat ass, `mommy'."
Scully allowed herself to be pulled along, casting a shrugged grin at 
Doggett, who shook his head and began to walk alongside.

With Tor at arms length, just about as far away as she could get from 
the pair of them, Doggett leaned down and whispered in Scully's ear, 
making her neck goose up.
"Glad you're not my mom," he breathed, grinning.
She smiled back, shivering slightly, and cursing at herself, all over 
again.
This man was trouble.
Or she was in trouble. 
She just couldn't decide which it was.