Believe
By Lisa
Summary: Set post-Providence, DRF/DRR however you want to interpret it,
just a short one :)
Spoilers: Uh...it hints at 'The Truth' but isn't specific
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I so wish I did! But I don't, and this is
non-profit of course!
"Monica-"
"Yeah?" Monica asked, steering into John's street. She pulled up outside his house and realised he hadn't continued. "John?"
"Who do you think that was?"
"Who?"
"The voice."
"Your subconscious, perhaps-"
"It was so specific, though. And I could see...everything."
"A dream?" He shook his head as she watched him, concerned.
"No, dreams aren't specific enough. I've never had a dream like this. At least, not one I can remember." Monica shrugged.
"Maybe you're psychic," she offered, smiling innocently. John rolled his eyes.
"Oh please."
"Come on John, think about it. If it's not a dream and it wasn't your subconscious, then it was someone telling you something while you were least likely to be able to defend yourself against it."
"What?"
"John, if I were psychic and were trying to send you a message I'd do it while you were in a coma too, because you wouldn't fight it."
"Are you a psychic then Monica?" Monica laughed.
"No!" She grinned over at John and saw that he was smiling too. "There's hope for you yet John Doggett," she said. He looked at her. "All you have to do is go into that house of yours and meditate-"
"Not likely. You wanna come in? It's late. We'll get a pizza or something? Watch TV?" Monica smiled.
"Yeah, I'd like that." She took the keys out of the car and got out with him.
"Just one thing Mon-"
"Mm?" she asked, waiting on the stoop while he unlocked the front door, letting her in ahead of him.
"Who was the voice? If it wasn't you or Scully or-"
"I dunno but they were right, and one day we'll probably meet 'em. Maybe I should knock you out now and see if they come through again with how this is all gonna end." John smirked.
"Don't knock me out. I don't think I could handle it." Monica took a seat at the kitchen stool as John found a couple of coupons for the local pizza delivery service. "What do ya feel like?" he asked.
"Whatever," Monica replied, suddenly quiet as she stared at the fridge. John hung up the receiver he'd picked up to dial.
"Mon, you right?"
"Yeah, just, did this voice mention how it'd end?" John sighed.
"No."
"Oh."
"Listen," he pulled up another stool and sat opposite the bench. "Let's make a promise."
"Blood brothers," Monica joked, smiling. John smiled back.
"No. Let's deal. Whatever happens, we stick together." He put his hand out on the bench between them and she covered it with her own hand.
"Deal."
"I don't think it'll be a happy one-"
"We make our own happiness," Monica reminded him, smiling. John turned his hand and squeezed hers. "I'm glad you're okay John."
"Yeah," he replied. "Me too." They stayed in the moment for a few minutes, before Monica broke away.
"Want that pizza now?"
"Sure," John replied. Just when he was getting up his nerve, she lost hers.
"John, you'll tell me if you get any more strange promptings, right?"
"'Course," he promised, but didn't divulge. He didn't understand what he saw, and probably wouldn't for a long while. An SUV speeding across the desert, pursued by something he couldn't see, and an explosion. He couldn't make out the driver of the vehicle, but knew it was himself. The woman, whose face he couldn't see, had long, brown hair. Monica. If it were true at least they were together, but he still couldn't believe it were true.
He didn't want to believe.
***
"Monica-"
"Yeah?" Monica asked, steering into John's street. She pulled up outside his house and realised he hadn't continued. "John?"
"Who do you think that was?"
"Who?"
"The voice."
"Your subconscious, perhaps-"
"It was so specific, though. And I could see...everything."
"A dream?" He shook his head as she watched him, concerned.
"No, dreams aren't specific enough. I've never had a dream like this. At least, not one I can remember." Monica shrugged.
"Maybe you're psychic," she offered, smiling innocently. John rolled his eyes.
"Oh please."
"Come on John, think about it. If it's not a dream and it wasn't your subconscious, then it was someone telling you something while you were least likely to be able to defend yourself against it."
"What?"
"John, if I were psychic and were trying to send you a message I'd do it while you were in a coma too, because you wouldn't fight it."
"Are you a psychic then Monica?" Monica laughed.
"No!" She grinned over at John and saw that he was smiling too. "There's hope for you yet John Doggett," she said. He looked at her. "All you have to do is go into that house of yours and meditate-"
"Not likely. You wanna come in? It's late. We'll get a pizza or something? Watch TV?" Monica smiled.
"Yeah, I'd like that." She took the keys out of the car and got out with him.
"Just one thing Mon-"
"Mm?" she asked, waiting on the stoop while he unlocked the front door, letting her in ahead of him.
"Who was the voice? If it wasn't you or Scully or-"
"I dunno but they were right, and one day we'll probably meet 'em. Maybe I should knock you out now and see if they come through again with how this is all gonna end." John smirked.
"Don't knock me out. I don't think I could handle it." Monica took a seat at the kitchen stool as John found a couple of coupons for the local pizza delivery service. "What do ya feel like?" he asked.
"Whatever," Monica replied, suddenly quiet as she stared at the fridge. John hung up the receiver he'd picked up to dial.
"Mon, you right?"
"Yeah, just, did this voice mention how it'd end?" John sighed.
"No."
"Oh."
"Listen," he pulled up another stool and sat opposite the bench. "Let's make a promise."
"Blood brothers," Monica joked, smiling. John smiled back.
"No. Let's deal. Whatever happens, we stick together." He put his hand out on the bench between them and she covered it with her own hand.
"Deal."
"I don't think it'll be a happy one-"
"We make our own happiness," Monica reminded him, smiling. John turned his hand and squeezed hers. "I'm glad you're okay John."
"Yeah," he replied. "Me too." They stayed in the moment for a few minutes, before Monica broke away.
"Want that pizza now?"
"Sure," John replied. Just when he was getting up his nerve, she lost hers.
"John, you'll tell me if you get any more strange promptings, right?"
"'Course," he promised, but didn't divulge. He didn't understand what he saw, and probably wouldn't for a long while. An SUV speeding across the desert, pursued by something he couldn't see, and an explosion. He couldn't make out the driver of the vehicle, but knew it was himself. The woman, whose face he couldn't see, had long, brown hair. Monica. If it were true at least they were together, but he still couldn't believe it were true.
He didn't want to believe.
***
