Title: Cleansing the Soul (sequel to Whispers in Black & 
White)
Author: Foxhunt2blue
Summary: Sometimes the soul only needs the
simplest of things to salvage it from the storm.
Rating: R for adult situations
Disclaimer: I have never owned them nor will 
I ever own them. Chris Carter and Fox are the
owners of all things X.
Keywords: DRR, Angst, Smut
Authors Note: This was written for the very 
sweet Sallie who requested some gentle loving 
between Doggett and Reyes after reading my 
story "Whispers in Black & White".
I hope this meets your requirements Sallie.
Enjoy :-)


From the moment their eyes met across the 
vastness of the balcony Monica knew without 
a doubt that she had finally come home. She 
could see it in the bottomless depths of his 
desperate eyes. 
Could his eyes have always been that beautiful
shade of blue, she wondered?
It had been such a hard road, getting back to 
the one thing that had kept her going all those 
lonely nights. Then again it had always been a 
long road for the two of them. 
She remembered in those few seconds the first 
time that she'd seen him. A distraught man sitting 
across a scarred wooden table in a dimly lit
New York precinct. All those years ago she 
had looked into those same desperate blue eyes 
and known that their destinies would be forever 
woven together.
As his legs collapsed beneath him, she found herself
wondering if perhaps he felt the same way as she
did. It was as if she had stepped from her body, only
a spectator in this long awaited reunion. Her heart
fluttered behind her rib cage as she fell to her knees 
in front of him.
There was no need for words, even if they could have 
found the words to explain. The next moment as her 
breath caught in her throat, John moved in capturing
her lips in a kiss as desperate as the look in his eyes.
His fingers tangled in the soaked strands of her hair,
pulling her as close as he could. The fluttering in her
chest suddenly became a thundering drumbeat. Their
bodies melting into each other, their clothes clinging
between them like the unseen threads of Fate's loom.
That precious taste was not enough, she thought.
Drawing back John stood on unsteady legs, one hand
extended in an offer that she had patiently waited for.
So many years waiting for this one simple moment.
As her fingers curled around his--she smiled.
With a wild laugh, so rare for him, he swung her into
his arms.  Around them the storm continued, but
nothing like the floodgates they were about to open. 
It seemed that time stood still.  The raging storm was
a protective bubble that kept them safe from the outside 
world, the world that soon would cease to be.
Stepping through the door he lowered her gently to the 
floor, his eyes searching hers for the only answer they
both needed.  With a slight nod of her head she 
answered without ever saying a word.
Her fingers curled beneath the hem of his soaked 
T-shirt, tugging it up, urging him to lift his arms. A 
smile tugged at the corner of her lips as her eyes 
devoured the smooth hardness of his chest.  She 
stepped closer to him as she dropped his shirt to 
the floor. A shiver running up her spine as she lifted 
her hands--palms resting against his chilled flesh. 
Blue eyes, deeper than any ocean could ever hope 
to be, studied her face. There was nothing, but joy 
in those eyes now--a joy that urged her to continue.
Smiling even wider she lifted her own soaked shirt 
over her head, dropping it next to his. 
"John...," she whispered his name as she leaned into 
him.
His only reply was to rest his head on her shoulder,
his lips pressing hot kisses into her skin. A soft moan
escaped her lips as he continued down to the curve
of her collar bone. 
Each kiss was electric fire.
Trembling she lifted her hands to weave her fingers
in unfamiliar dark hair. It was strange seeing him with
such wild, long hair, but even that didn't hide who he
was from her eyes.
His kisses continued to rain down her skin in a line
from her throat to the shadow of cleavage. There
was no pause in his pursuit of skin as he knelt at
her feet--his lips continuing to the waist of her jeans.
With a glance upward into her flushed face his fingers
worked at the button, then the zipper of her jeans. 
She had no reservations about what was about to 
happen because they had both been alone for far to
long. Circumstances had kept them from taking that
final step all those long months ago, but now they
both needed to feel again--to hope again.
Sliding her jeans off she kicked them to the side
along with her sandals, remembering what she had
to live for again. She smiled into those beautiful 
eyes again, one hand reaching down to guide John 
to his feet. Tightening her grip she pulled him toward
the bed.
His expression flickered for a moment in doubt and
she began to laugh.
"Never doubt what the Fates weave John," she 
whispered softly.
Moments later she had stripped him down, admiring
the lean hardness of a man she had wanted for to
many years. Reaching behind her back she released
the clasp on her bra, peeling off the soaked material.
"Monica," his voice pierced her soul. "I never knew."
"What?"
His eyes lowered for a moment. "How much I needed
you."
Reaching out she pulled him down onto the bed, another
soft giggle rising from her throat. "I needed you too."
John's eyes widened at her confession, then he did what
any normal red-blooded man would--he kissed her.
His beard scraped her face, but she didn't care. Their
mouths mirrored the hunger in their hearts and all else
was inconsequential. She would suffer anything to feel
this man's hands on her body--she had suffered for this.
Somehow they found themselves laid bare, their hands
exploring each other in the most intimate way. Their
connection was deeper than even she had suspected
during their time together.
She had been a child who had lost her birth parents.
He was a parent who had lost his only child.
They had both survived.
Somehow she had been given parents that instilled
a spiritual depth that had led her to him.
His grief had sent him on a voyage of self-discovery
that led him to her doorstep.
Parting her thighs she drew him down, feeling the
hardness that sought her body. She lifted her legs,
wrapping them around his waist, guiding him to her
aching body. With a gasp their mouths parted as
their bodies joined in one swift movement.
As he began to move inside her body, her back 
bowed, his mouth lowering to her breast. Moaning
with need she began moving her hips in rhythm to
his strokes--slow and sweet.
There was no need to hurry. 
Her arms wrapped around his body, her nails digging
into his back. Beneath her fingers she could feel the
ripple of hard muscles, the silk of his skin, and she
revelled in the beauty of it all.
Each breath.
Each movement.
The way his lips moved against her aroused flesh, the
heat of his breath, and the beating of her heart. It was
perfect in every way.
They lost themselves in the moment, forgetting the
world and what it demanded of them. All there was,
all there would be was this moment.
His hand moved between them as he sought out her
center--his thumb caressing her heat.
"John...oh god...," she gasp.
"So close...so close," his own gasp was lost in the damp
skin of her throat.
She could feel his body tensing--along with her own--as
they began to ride the wave. There was something more
here than their bodies finding pleasure.
It was a cleansing.
A way to renew their hope.
Suddenly they both began to tremble, their hearts beating
fast, their desperate breaths in unison.
With a roar they both crashed back to earth. In each 
other's arms they had found what they thought lost. A
strength to continue and a reason to fight.
Pulling apart they spooned together in the darkness. John's
breath warm and rough against the stickiness of her neck 
brought her back to reality. Softly sighing she rolled over
her eyes meeting his. There was nothing that could stop
them now, she thought. Two warriors who had found each
other again.
His fingers stroked her tangled hair back from her face, a
smile spreading across his face.
"What?" She whispered.
His eyes filled with glistening tears as he leaned in placing
a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I love you Monica."
Her own eyes began to burn as she burrowed into his
chest--lips caressing the spot just above his heart.
"I know...me too."
Sometimes, she thought, the soul only needs the simplest 
of things to salvage it from the storm. Tonight they had
saved each other from that storm.
"...me too...," she mumbled again.
Sleep descended on them as outside the storm began to
die, the clouds slowly parting.
The End