Monica is seated curled on a restroom floor. Up against a wall, crying as silently as she can manage. In the the slightest of whimpers she cries...
'John. Where are you?'
The restroom is residential. Minimalist at best. The only clues that to it being a woman's are hidden away in the medicine cabinet and below the sink, the plain white seamless sink. The white trashcan holds an empty plastic bag. The mirror is spotless. The shower sparkling. Even the water looks sourced from mountain springs.
Monica gets to her feet and stands over the sink, starring at the two purple boxes that sit atop it. On top of them, two white plastic sticks. Sticks that tell her the direction of her future life. Bringing her attention away from them, she looks into her own eyes in the mirror.
...
Doggett's arm are wrapped tightly around Monica's waist. His chin lightly rested on her her neck. They lay side by side in their bedroom.
'I told you not to worry.' he says softly in her ear.
Monica opens her eyes and says, 'I'm not.'
'After everything we've seen, everything we've been through, you really think we can't handle this? This is what takes us down?'
'You make it sound so melodramatic. A Shakespearean tale,...of The Broken Condom.'
They both share a laugh.
'I just feel torn in different directions by so many things.'
'Like what?'
Monica takes a second to answer, 'Luke.' John is taken by surprise. She continues, 'If it's a boy, I don't-'
'Stop!' John interrupts. 'I won't let my son's death be used as an excuse. Me and Barb have made our peace. He wouldn't of wanted the rest of our lives revolving around his tragedy instead of his life.'
Monica grabs Doggett's hands at her waist and squeezes them tightly. 'You gave me shit for over a year for trying to convince you to go see someone about your grief.'
He kisses her cheek, 'I'm glad you nagged me 'till I did. If...if you do get pregnant, we can handle it.'
Doggett's cellphone rings.
'You really think so?' she asks.
He smiles, then releases her, then reaches for his phone, 'I'd never let anything happen to ruin our family.'
Doggett answers, 'Hello?'
As Doggett talks Monica is overcome with immense joy. A grin ear to ear. Her thoughts far in the future, a life occupied by her perfect family. Given her age, it is likely this would be the only child she could give Doggett, but now that seemed like enough.
Doggett ends his phone call, 'That was Detective Aimes.'
'New case?'
'This one sounds like an X-File. One that would send Mulder into a frenzy.'
'What happen?' she ask.
'A body was found in a marsh. Aimes said it doesn't look human.'
Monica shoots Doggett a confused look.
He continues, 'She's new though, probably has never seen how bad a floater can decompose.'
'Call me if anything comes up.'
'What, like a real alien?' Doggett says laughing.
...
Snapping out of her memory, Monica brings her attention back to the plastic sticks on the boxes. She picks one up, and see's a red line. She puts it down and sighs in relief. She picks op the next one. Looking closer to make sure she's correct, Monica confirms the stick displays a blue plus sign. She looks back up to herself in the mirror. Starring into her own endless worried eyes.
=x=x=x=x=x=x=
Cigarette Smoking Man stands behind a glass window. Taking a long drag, he stares intently at the other side.
A surgical room lays on the other end. One the operating table lays Doggett, sedated.
'You'll thank me, John.'