January 11

"Oh my god! Look at you!" she cried, running to meet him. "You were so handsome at twenty-seven!"

"What? Did you doubt that?" he smiled, and for a moment it was like old times. But he didn't return her hug as enthusiastically as she gave it, and in fact, pulled away from her.

"John? What's wrong?"

"Nothing...it's just... I mean, I'm married again, I know half the cops in the city, and I can't really be seen hugging some unknown college girl. Let's grab a taxi and find some place secluded."

Finally alone in a private booth in a small, unassuming bistro, John poured out everything to Monica.

"I don't really know where to begin. I mean, I'm beyond happy to be back in my old life again, to be with my wife again before things went bad, and most of all, to have Luke back. But I'm terrified that I'll wake up tomorrow and find everything the way it was again. But this isn't really how it was. It's all familiar, and because it's all familiar, it really doesn't feel the same, you know? I can't really look at Barbara as if I still thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together, because I know we didn't. But at the same time, I can't look at Luke the same way either. I've hardly been able to put him down when I'm at home. Barbara is happy to see it, but I know she wonders why I'm not the same. And the guys at the station, they keep asking me why my head's in the clouds, and I tell them that it's just the baby, but I don't know how much longer they'll keep believing that. And I... Hey," he said, his face suddenly brightening up, "do you want to see him? I have his picture in my wallet."

She smiled her familiar smile of warmth and joy and said, "Of course." He pulled out a whole collection. "We just had these taken for his first birthday. He just turned one on Friday, if you can believe it. Had a big party yesterday. I can bring those pictures next time. Got a good shot of him covered in cake and icing."

"He's really beautiful, John. You know, I never really saw many baby pictures of him. I bet he's even cuter in person."

"Yeah, he's a looker all right," said John, ever the proud father. "Maybe you could meet him sometime."

"That would be nice." She didn't say it, of course, but she was thinking about how she'd never had the chance to meet his son. He could read it in her eyes... he knew the look that said she was thinking about Luke's death.

"If we can't get out of this, Monica, I could save him, you know? I could go after Bob Harvey now and see that he's arrested and out of commission for a good long while. Maybe even put a sting on Regali now, but that's a big one, more FBI territory than NYPD."

"Yes, you could." She looked down at the table, obviously following a long train of thought.

"You want to go back, don't you?"

"I do. But I understand why you feel the need to stay. Whether we stay or not, though, we still need answers. You may be ready to just accept this as it is, but I can't. Don't you wonder what happened? Don't you see that if we're the only two people that remember this, then it's probably connected to us? Have you tried to contact anyone else? Scully, Skinner, Mulder, anyone?"

"I managed to track down Skinner and Mulder - they're both at the FBI - but neither one returned my phone call, which leads me to believe that they don't know who the hell I am. Scully should be in college right now, just like you."

"Poor Scully," she said. "We should come up with a list of anyone who might be connected. Do you remember anything before this happened? I remember almost nothing... everything's hazy. Which is strange. I usually can recall what I did the day before, even what I ate, and how well I slept. The only thing that sticks out is that I remember you were in my dream, but even just after I woke up, I couldn't remember what the dream was about."

"I think you were in my dream too. But other than that, yeah, the day before I woke up here was all a blur. Worse than a blur. I really can't remember a damned thing. But everything up till then is all crystal clear. I remember our last case, I remember dropping off my dry-cleaning a few days earlier, I remember the score of Sunday's game. It's crazy."

"Yeah. You should try worrying about this and being underage. I can't even go into a bar and order a drink – I have to pay seniors $5 for a case of shitty beer."

He chuckled at her attempt at humor. "Hard to believe you're eighteen. Hard to be talking to you and see a different Monica looking at me. I mean, yeah, you talk just like her, well, you haven't started with any crazy theories yet, but you know what I mean. Your voice is higher though, and you certainly don't look a day over 18 – "

"Hey!" she giggled, kicking him under the table, even though she knew it was true.

" – but it's you alright. We've been friends for nine years, but that doesn't actually start for another six years. How crazy is that?"

"Very. But in six years you should be able to stop Harvey and save Luke and then we'd have no reason to meet."

"Yeah. God, this does a number on my head. Can we talk about something else for a while? Tell me how your classes are going." He grinned, knowing full well he was teasing her for her particularly unfortunate situation.

"They're going just as well as I remember. I've study every night. I've already had one test. I've got a paper due next Friday. And it's never any fun to have to redo work you've already done once. The only good is that it's all coming back to me. I have a feeling I'll be able to regain my reading fluency in Hebrew by the end of the year, maybe skip ahead to the highest level now instead of waiting till my junior year. Not that I plan on staying here that long."

"Wait, Hebrew?"

"Religious studies major, remember?"

"Wow. No wonder I went into Public Administration."

Monica smiled, but her mind was already elsewhere. "What should we do John? I'm afraid to mess things up. That whole thing about how a butterfly flaps its wings and a tsunami happens on the other side of the world...what if we do something and radically change the future for the worse? What if – "

"Mon, look, we can't play the what-if game. Ok? We've been given a second chance here, we should at least use it to change things for the better and try not to worry about the outcome. Besides, we don't know how long this will last."

"What do you think happened? What could we have done? Do you remember any cases similar to this?"

"Mulder had a case about a man supposedly from the future who came back in time to stop time-travel from ever being developed."

"That could be useful. Do you remember his name?"

"Nah. Unfortunately, I don't have Mulder's photographic memory. Do you think that's what happened though? I mean, that guy came back at the age he was when he left the future – he wasn't the same age as he had been in the past. He left at 84, and he got to the past at 84 – and his former self was still in the past. We seemed to have aged backwards. I don't know much about time travel but I don't think that's what happened to us.

"There was another event that might actually be closer, but it was only notes, not an official case. Mulder wrote that he kept waking up, reliving the same day again and again. Finally, he stopped something from happening – a bank robbery or murder – and then life continued on."

"Sound like he might have watched Groundhog's Day one too many times."

John gave another laugh. "One could make similar arguments for most of the X-files. Anyway, I'll talk to some people, see what they know, ok?"

"Ok. Are you ready for my 'crazy theory'?" She smiled warmly at him, letting him know it was ok to say that earlier. "What if this isn't something that could be explained by science or even science fiction? What if this is something more mystical? I've been searching various myths and cultures for similar stories, but haven't dug up anything yet. Possibly some sort of soul transference. And there's always literature as well, springing from cultural myths into folklore. You remember the story of Merlin, though, how he went through time backwards?"

John rolled his eyes. "I'd rather stick with Star Trek here. Science fiction seems much more plausible than kids' stories."

"Ok, then, what about that time you were in another dimension? Do you think this could be something like that?"

"Hey, you're the only one that remembers that. And if I recall correctly, there was no time shift."

"There was at the end." She shuddered slightly at the memory of letting the other John go. "Then everything shifted back to normal."

"Are you saying that in 1987 we both somehow ended up walking through a portal to another dimension and something we did in 2002 set it back again?" he asked, his tone suddenly harsh.

"Perhaps, but I don't know what happened. Or maybe we walked through a portal in 2002 and slipped back to 1987. I'm just throwing out ideas," she responded, as calmly as she could.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to jump down your throat like that. Actually, it does make more sense than anything else, but not enough sense to accept it. Like you said, we might have done something to set if off. We're the only two – that we know of – who are in this situation. We didn't know each other in 1987 – now – so it seems to suggest that we made this happen in 2002. We just gotta figure out what."

"Which is exactly what we came here to discuss."

"So, maybe it's going to take a while. Maybe we don't figure it out today. We're at a huge disadvantage – you're only 18 and still in school and I am a cop with a family. The X-files aren't even up and running yet. We have no resources other than what we create and find."

"The X-files... when did you say Mulder re-opened them?"

"Beginning of '92. We still have a long time to go."

"What do you suppose would happen if we contacted him for help?"

"Like you were saying about the butterfly flapping its wings, his timeline could be completely thrown out of whack. The X-files became an outlet for his obsession. Who knows how introducing them to him now would change him in the future."

"I don't mean we need to tell him about the X-files. Maybe he could help though."

"He'd probably just tell us we were abducted by aliens."

Monica had to fight back her smile. "There's a theory we haven't yet examined."

"There's a theory I don't want to examine." He looked down at his watch. "Monica, I think I should be heading out. I don't want Barbara to think I'm cheating on her."

Her eyes bore into him. Though they hadn't yet discussed it, just before this whole nightmare began, it was becoming very apparent that they had feelings for one another. He knew exactly what her stare implied. And he chose to ignore it by looking away and getting up from the table. "I'll pay. You're just a starving student again."

She couldn't smile at him. She was hurt, hurt more than the mere fact that he was with Barbara and wanted to stay with her. Now he was ignoring that there was anything between them. "John..."

"No, Monica. No. Just no."

They didn't talk during the ride back. "I'll call you as soon as I have something to report," he said when he stopped outside the train station.

She tried to tell him with her eyes that she loved him, but he pulled a face and said goodbye.