Title: Through His Eyes (1/1)
Author: L. M. Shard
E-mail: lsshard@cox.net
Date: March 7, 2002
Rating: PG
Category: V, R
Keywords: Doggett/Scully romance, Scully POV
Spoilers: NIHT, Per Manum, and DeadAlive
Feedback: Yes, please!
Archive: Probably anywhere, but please ask first.
Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox own these lovely 
characters.  No copyright infringement intended.
Thanks and Dedication: to Megan for the idea, a SHODDS 
challenge.  (She actually dreamed this story!)  You're the 
greatest!
Summary: Realization comes to Scully in a dream.



THROUGH HIS EYES
By: L. M. Shard



I was dreaming.  I was dreaming that I was not myself, but 
that I was John Doggett, seeing myself through his eyes.  
>From the blackness an image came to me, preceded by strong, 
desperate emotions.

I sprinted to the door, knocked on it, then waited impatiently, 
swallowing a lump of building dread the size of a bowling 
ball.  Seconds later, instant relief washed over me, restoring 
my heart, as I looked into the eyes of Dana Scully--me.  I was 
overwhelmed with an intense feeling of love and tried to 
suppress it, but, "I got panicked that you're not going to be 
here, that you left, too," slipped out in answer to Scully's--my-
-question of what was the matter.  I was so thankful to see her 
beautiful face before me, even if it was somewhat annoyed.  
She was still here, not gone without warning like Mulder, that 
was what counted.  My love for her radiated out to her, but she 
seemed blind to it.

***

It was four in the morning and we were sitting in a diner and 
Skinner had just told me that Scully would be taking a leave of 
absence.  When I had asked her, "Can I ask why?" she had 
said "no".  My heart broke at that.  After all I had proved to 
her: that I was on her side, that I would do anything to protect 
her, that I would find Mulder for her, she did not trust me 
enough to simply tell me why.  Anger tried to hide the pain 
that was all over my face and in my heart as I told her I was 
sick of the secrets and lies.  I felt betrayed, worthless, a 
nothing in her eyes.

***

I was standing next to her as she lay in the hospital bed, 
having just found out that she was pregnant.  Why hadn't see 
told me herself?  Why hadn't she trusted me with this 
information?  Although I felt somewhat betrayed, my 
overriding emotions were ones of protectiveness and love.  
Looking down at this beautiful and strong woman, all I wanted 
to do was protect her and keep her and her unborn baby safe.  
This protectiveness towards her was becoming a need that 
grew greater and greater by the day.  My heart ached as I 
realized my unrequited love for her would probably never 
come to fruition, since I assumed Mulder was the baby's 
father.  Hiding my pain, I promised her again that I would find 
Mulder for her.  Keeping her safe, finding Mulder: that was all 
that mattered.

***

Mulder was awake and alive, against all odds.  When I walked 
through that hospital door and into his room and saw her lying 
across his torso, I knew.  I knew that now that he was back 
she'd never need me.  I knew that any chance I had to love her 
was lost the instant he woke up.  When she raised her face to 
look at me, I quickly had to exit the room, lest she see my 
heartache.

***

Far away in the background there was a dull knock.  As my 
mind tried to grasp what the sound was, it was repeated, this 
time with more urgency.  My limbs were heavy, but the sleep 
daze subsided and my eyes flew open.  I stared at my bedroom 
ceiling, confused for a moment of where I actually was, then 
the sound repeated yet again.  Someone was knocking on my 
door.  Reality took place of the dreams.  I threw on my robe, 
stepped into my slippers, and walked groggily to the door.

John Doggett stood before me and his sharp, sapphire eyes 
met mine, causing my odd dreams to rush back to me in one 
big, powerful burst.  In that instant, all the intense emotions I 
had experienced in the dreams overwhelmed my senses and, 
without thinking, I threw myself into his arms, hugging him 
tightly to my body.  Doggett seemed surprised, yet pleased.  
As I was hugging him, my dreams were starting to make sense 
to me.  Throughout them I had an all-encompassing feeling of 
love; it surrounded me, completed me, permeated every fiber 
of my being.  It was a constant.  When I saw myself through 
his eyes, I saw myself as strong and beautiful, someone who 
was out of reach, but desperately desired.  John Doggett was 
in love with me, at least that's what my dreams were telling 
me.

"What is it?"  Doggett asked, concern in his question.

His warm, raspy voice snapped me out of my dazed reverie 
and back into harsh reality.  Extreme embarrassment overrode 
the surrounding feeling of love the dreams had left me with 
and I stammered, "Ahh…nothing.  I'm sorry, I was just taking 
a nap and I was dreaming, and I think I wasn't fully awake 
when I opened the door."

Doggett looked at me with traces of confusion in his clear blue 
eyes.  Then another emotion entered them and he said gently, 
"You don't hafta apologize for huggin' me."

I broke his gaze, even more embarrassed, although I knew his 
statement was meant to do just the opposite.  I bravely looked 
into his eyes again and I saw it: love.  It was something I had 
seen in his eyes many times over the past year we had known 
each other, but it was the first time I had actually been able to 
know for certain what it was.  My dreams had made it 
perfectly clear and I looked at him differently, less guarded.  
How could I not, knowing that this handsome, loyal, and 
trustworthy man standing in front of me loved me?  I began to 
tremble at his nearness and took a step back.  This was all 
happening so fast!

"What were you dreamin' about?"  He asked me softly, a look 
of intense curiosity on his face.

My face suddenly burned and I knew my cheeks must have 
turned bright red.  "Ah…noth…nothing important," I 
stuttered.  "What brings you here?"  I asked, quickly changing 
the subject.

"Oh," he said, like he had forgotten the reason for his visit, 
"this case we're workin' on.  I got the lab results back and was 
hopin' you'd be able to translate 'em for me."

"Yeah, sure," I said, glad for the distraction, and took the file 
from his hand.  As I looked it over, I could intensely feel his 
proximity to me.  I found it hard to concentrate and 
unconsciously stepped back slightly.  He closed the gap 
between us immediately and looked over my shoulder at the 
report, apparently waiting for my analysis. 

I rattled off some lengthy interpretations, trying hard to focus 
my mind on something other than his nearness and my recent 
dreams.  But the feelings I was having were waxing instead of 
waning.  Finally I had nothing left to say on the subject and 
looked at him, hoping he was going to ask me a battery of 
questions.

No such luck.  Instead he said, "Somethin's different."  He 
searched my eyes for an answer.  "That dream you had really 
affected you, didn't it?"  His eyes never left mine and they 
dared me to hold his gaze.  I couldn't, and let my lids lower 
until my focus was the rug on the floor.

"Dana…"

I didn't know what to say.  If I told him the truth and it turned 
out not to be the truth, then I would feel like the biggest fool 
alive, believing a silly dream I had had!  But if I told him and 
it turned out my dreams were true, then would I want that?  
Would I want his love?  I didn't even have to think about it; I 
knew.  God, yes!  Before this dream it would have been hard 
for me to admit, but now, I knew I wanted it; I needed it.  
Perhaps this dream was just to awaken my feelings, let me 
admit to myself that I had them.  Dreams do that; they are the 
portal to unconscious thoughts and desires.

"Yes, it did," I finally said, answering the question he had 
asked what seemed like eons ago.

He paused, then inquired hesitantly, "What was it about?"

My logical side screamed for me to stay quiet, say nothing, but 
my emotional side won out, a rare event, and I said, in barely a 
whisper, my eyes still on the floor, "You."

It seemed like time stood still as my single word hung out in 
the open, utterly exposed.  Suddenly, I felt his fingers under 
my chin and a slight upward pressure.  He wanted to tilt my 
face up to his, but I knew that if I were to look into his eyes, 
my eyes would betray all my emotions, no words would even 
have to be spoken.

Only putting up slight resistance, I let him tilt my face so that 
our eyes met.  Instantly, his crystal blues searched my 
darkened ones and I knew he knew, for his eyes had filled 
with unmistakable love.  They radiated it like the sun, 
warming me from the inside out.

I was right: no words were necessary as our eyes expressed the 
contents of our hearts to each other in silence.

I stood on tiptoes and moved my lips up to his in the most 
tender of caresses.  My body trembled involuntarily at the 
touch.  He seemed slightly surprised at first, but rather than 
withdrawing, he pressed against my mouth more firmly and, 
as my lips parted in response, he slipped his tongue deliciously 
between them and sought out the heat of my own tongue.  The 
sensation was exhilarating and I suddenly felt dizzy.  As if he 
sensed what his kiss was doing to me, he wrapped one of his 
arms securely around my waist and the other he placed behind 
my head, using it to pull me closer, deepening the kiss.  The 
kiss was slow, yet incredibly intense, vulnerable and caressing 
and tasting and luxuriating and lingering.  We explored each 
other leisurely, savoring every touch, every sensation.  It must 
have lasted for at least three minutes and it was the most 
intimate and beautiful kiss I had ever experienced.  When we 
finally did part, I felt so connected, so incredibly close to him.  
My heart sang with love.

His eyes met mine again and they smiled, as did his lips.  
"That musta been some dream," he said.

"Yeah, it sure was," I replied, grateful for it, and pulled him 
into another profound and lingering kiss.  There was so much 
more my heart wanted to reveal to him, and words just weren't 
enough. 



THE END

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