Monica arrived to a warm welcome in Washington D.C.; even though it was hardly a crowd, numbering at one, she could tell he was glad to see her. As she pulled up outside FBI Headquarters she felt that familiar rush of anticipation fill her heart at the sight of seeing John. It had been many long years, and many things had changed, making her even more anxious. She walked briskly toward John, and flashed a confident smile pared with a large wave, which was returned by a similar wave.
John was wearing his least favorite combination, a stiff white shirt tucked conservatively under a jacket and tie. His muscular physique still looked flawless, but he has been through a lot in his 30 something years, and it showed. As Monica neared him she noticed he still had that perfect smile that lit up his face, still had the slightly longer version of a buzz cut crowning his head, and still had those amazing blue eyes that sparkled with deep intensity. But his face sagged, and it looked weary.
Monica was still the same in many ways too. Her hair, the color of burnt toast, looked like it hadn't moved, still spilling down her face and framing it attractively. She wore jeans and a black sleeveless shirt. She also looked worn out too, like she needed a rest desperately, and her face showed the wear as she tried to smile. Her smile was still an immense one, but it looked forced. As she approached John noticed her eyes still had that deep mystery about them, they were dark pits waiting to be stumbled upon. He also noticed the biggest change in her life; 16 month old Jane walking slowly next to her and holding her hand.
"Hi John!" She called in a cheerful manner. It gave the impression that nothing had changed at all.
"Monica!" John returned.
She stepped closer to him and raised her arms like she was going to give him a tremendous hug, but ended up switching to a handshake at the last moment. Well, that was awkward, she thought.
But it didn't matter, because both of their smiles didn't seem to notice.
"John, this is Jane," Monica motioned as a way to break the embarrassing silence.
"She's very beautiful, just like her mother," John replied. His cheeks acquired a slight red glow a few seconds later.
"Thanks," answered Monica, not really knowing what to think of his comment. "So, it's been 6 years," Monica mused, steering John away from the subject. "It seems like time just flew by."
"Yeah," replied John, even though the years had crawled by, and they both knew it. "So," John began, "when I looked you up and saw you were in New Orleans it surprised me. Why'd you leave New York?"
Monica's blood froze, even though she kept on walking as briskly as she could while still holding Jane's hand. "Umm, long story," she tried to explain.
"Well, I'll have time for it later."
Monica doubted that severely, but kept that to herself.
"Anyway," John continued, "you were doing satanic rituals and stuff, right?"
"Yeah," she replied, "but I was having as much luck convincing people about them as you are with the X-Files. But, I'm glad to offer my help. I just don't know how much help that'll be."
"Well, I'm sure you'll be very helpful."
Monica let a little scoff escape from her mouth at that, but no one could hear it on the bustling street.
And with that, the two strolled away from Monica's packed car and towards the next chapter in her life.