Title: All That Remains

Author: JaneDoh

Disclaimer: Does anything even need to be said here? I mean, duh, it is FANfiction.

Author's notes: Just a small idea that emerged while racking my brain as I was writing another story. It is a small snippet set after The Truth.

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John glanced at the flashing light that ostentatiously informed him that they were almost out of gas. He looked over at Monica, who was fighting the exhaustion that they both felt; it was several hours since they had driven off from Mulder and Scully, into the unknown. She gave him a weak smile, putting on a front of calmness even though he knew she was worried about their future.

He sighed dejectedly, he should have realised earlier that they were low on fuel, but he had been too caught up in his own thoughts of what had occurred that day to acknowledge something so mundane. Something that now seemed to be of vital importance, when he remembered they were still driving through the deserts of New Mexico and there wasn't exactly a gas station on every corner. Hell, they hadn't even seen a corner for the last hour. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to inform Monica of their predicament, when he saw a small outline in the distance. It was still so far away, but he was sure it was a gas station. The car's speed started increasing as John felt the relief flow through him when his prediction was confirmed; he had heard enough stories of mirages in the desert to get too excited until he was sure that his eyes weren't betraying him. It was now twilight, the blue-blackness of the sky bringing a small reprieve from the scorching sun. John pulled into the station, a slight sense of unease at how deserted the place looked.

"It's closed." John wasn't sure whether it was the fatigue talking, or that Monica felt the need to state the obvious. She gave him a sympathetic look before leaning over further to check the reading on the fuel gauge. "Oh." And John decided that one simple word summed the situation up perfectly.

"Sorry, Mon, I should have noticed earlier." He got out of the car and walked towards the store his fingers linked together and resting on top of his head in frustration. He knew it was a pointless exercise, but he checked through the window anyway, only to confirm there was no one there. His eyes quickly scanned over the sign: it would be open again the next morning. He wandered back towards the car where Monica had rolled down the window to let some of the air flow through, and gave her an apologetic look. "We are going to be stuck here for the night." He looked off into the distance, squinting as though it would somehow increase his long-distance vision. "I guess the town can't be too far away, but we might not have enough gas to make it." He felt responsible for the fact that Monica was stuck with him and a car for the rest of the night, in contrast to the welcoming softness of a bed, even if it was only in a crappy motel. "Well, we could try," he offered, "but we would probably end up running out of gas in the middle of nowhere."

"As opposed to where we are now?" she cheekily responded and they both laughed at the idea. She opened the door and got out, closing the short distance between them. She knew that John liked filling the role of provider and protector, so she wanted to assure him that it was a simple mistake and she didn't blame him for what had happened. "It's not so bad. I wanted to stop and stretch my legs anyway." She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the tepid evening air. "So we have run out of gas. It's nice and quiet, there are a million stars to see and we are away from civilisation for a day." She gave him a wry grin. "It's not exactly the end of the world."

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They sat beside each other on the hard ground, their backs resting against the metal frame of the car. It was not exactly as comfortable as inside, but the slight breeze that was cooling as evening merged into night was a worthy compromise. Luckily the bathrooms had been left unlocked, so they had been able to wash away at least some of the sweat that had accumulated during the day, even though the remnants of water now clung to their skin in the remaining humidity. But the night air was persistent, helping to eradicate any remaining heat that lingered as they stared at the star-scattered sky in silent contemplation. The moon was in its last quarter, only offering a feeble silver glow to cut through the darkness of the night.

Monica turned to John with a serious furrow to her brow. "What are we going to do? I mean, in general." It was one of the rare times that her vulnerability was obvious, in all the time that he had known her. And despite his own concerns for what was going to happen to them now that they had assisted in Mulder's escape, his emotions were compounded when he saw the fear in her eyes. He took a slow, controlled breath, but he couldn't think of a way to allay her unrest. He felt helpless, and couldn't look at her anymore, his eyes dipping towards the ground.

"I don't know." It was an honest answer; they had basically been driving with no real goal and neither of them had wanted to consider the seriousness of the situation.

Monica stared off into the distance for a few moments as the sound of a lone coyote sent an ominous call through the night. "Well, that's a little disconcerting." They both laughed then, but it did little to ease the tension. She swallowed nervously, considering the unfairness of their predicament: after all the time that they had spent working on the X-Files, they were now fugitives because they had dared to challenge the authorities; they had found out too much about what the truth really was. She lowered her head in defeat, mirroring John's action before she spoke with a hint of regret in her tone. "They have left us with nothing."

She could hear John's breath rushing through his nostrils. He seemed to be considering something for a moment then turned to her with a sense of purpose. "Actually, there is something I have been meaning to give you." She turned her head to face him, tilting her head as an indication of her curiosity. He rubbed the palms of his hands against his jeans, absently wiping the dust from them. He seemed nervous, and before he spoke, he looked around cautiously as though spying eyes may be watching. He shifted a little closer, until the length of their arms were touching and his words were almost a whisper; it was like he was guarding against enemy ears that may be eavesdropping. "Close your eyes."

She was a little surprised by his request, but she obediently shut her eyelids, an inquisitive wrinkle visible in the middle of her forehead. "Is it something you couldn't give me earlier."

"I couldn't give it to you until we were away from the FBI. I couldn't risk the consequences." Monica could feel her heart rate increasing as she waited for his revelation. "For either of us."

She could feel him shift slightly beside her, and she expected him to say that she could open her eyes at any second, but it seemed to be taking longer than she had predicted. She heard him take a reassuring breath, and in that moment it clicked that what he was going to give her wasn't something she would able to visualise anyway. She felt the presence of his lips before they even made physical contact, his aura soothing against her own. And then she felt the softest pressure against her lips, as he tentatively gave her a kiss. Her eyes involuntarily opened a fraction, her brain needing to confirm it was actually John Doggett kissing her before they closed again in satisfaction once the image was confirmed.

He pulled away slowly, waiting until she opened her eyes again and looked at her with unwavering sincerity. "They haven't taken everything."

END.