Absence Is To Love
By: Olivia
John watched through the window of the hospital room door as a doctor checked Monica out. She was bruised and battered. Her spirit didn't seem broken, but in the past 24 hours, John's sight, his perception of reality, was the last thing he trusted.
The doctor finished putting the last bandage on Monica's wrist. Monica nodded at the words he spoke to her that John was unable to hear. The doctor exited the room. He saw John and, recognizing him at the most concerned party of the group that had brought Monica into the hospital, walked across the hall to him.
"How is she, Doc?" John asked. His voice only slightly betrayed his inner anxiety, his inner turmoil.
"She's fine, nothing too serious. Mostly slight cuts and bruises. The worst is the rope burn on her wrists and ankles from where they tied her up and from her escape effort. Mentally, I'd say she's doing better than I would be in her case."
John could only nod, relieved at his words. "Thank you," was all he could get out, but the doctor understood all that John really felt in those two simple words. The doctor nodded and left John alone, standing in the hallway.
John only hesitated for a second before entering Monica's room. At his entrance, Monica's face lit up. John took in Monica's cuts, bruises, and bandages. John quite frankly could say his partner had definitely seen better days, but to John she was a beautiful sight.
After a few seconds of silence, Monica attempted a smile and a bit of gallows humor. "If you think I look bad, you should see the other woman..."
John was not amused at a joke that he was fond of using whenever he himself had taken a beat down. John's attention focused on a particular red welt on Monica's forehead. He stretched out his hand and lightly touched it with his fingers.
Monica winced ever so slightly even though his touch was gentle. The significance wasn't lost on her. It was the welt that John had caused when he had rammed the muzzle of his gun into her forehead when he had nearly shot her.
Monica raised her hand to John's, pulling it tenderly away from her forehead. She put her hand into his. Still holding her hand, John wearily sat down beside her on the hospital bed.
"You can't blame yourself, you know," said Monica quietly, sensing John's guilt. "The game was rigged from the beginning. Bowman had this all planned. She couldn't get back at Mulder and Scully, so she decided to take out her vengeance on us. She escaped from the institution, kidnapped me with the help of her cousin-a guard there, led you to the warehouse, and left me in an escapable position with access to a gun. She planned it all. Either way she wasn't going back to the institution, to jail. You can't blame yourself John because if you do, she wins. She didn't win, John. When she pulled that gun on you, I shot her. She's dead. She's not coming back."
John just looked at Monica incredulously. "Monica, I nearly killed you today," said John in a broken, defeated voice. "Instead to savin' you, I nearly got both of us killed. All because I couldn't believe, because I couldn't look past what I saw with my eyes, I nearly killed you. It was the same thing with Mulder, she knew that we could never forgive ourselves if we...if I...."
Monica squeezed his hand. She wanted to assuage his guilt, to make him feel better. She didn't blame him. John had a tendency to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and this was one burden she was trying to prevent him from carrying. "But you didn't, John. I'm fine."
John just shook his head. "I'm not the right person for this job. We both know it. I was a fool to think otherwise. I thought I could do this job, but I can't. You need another partner who can better watch your back. Someone who's more open-minded than me."
It was Monica's turn to shake her head. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "You are my partner. I don't want or need another one. We are the only two people who can do this job. Together we make it work, just like today. The office needs a skeptic and a believer. I can't do this job without you."
John couldn't help but smile at Monica's passionate speech. It was just like her to be placed in mortal danger and then afterwards try to make him feel better.
John didn't say anything for a few moments. Slowly his smiled faded as the realization of all that had been potentially lost to him overwhelmed him. "I don't know if you'll ever realize...those days you were gone...it was just like when Luke had disappeared...."
"No, I understand. It was like that time you were lost in Mexico. At one point the police were going to show me this dead body. I thought it might have been you."
John let go of Monica's hand and slipped his arms around her waist pulling her into a hug. Monica wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling John even closer to her. She stroked the back of his neck with on of her hands.
John finally spoke, his voice full of gratitude and awe. "Even when Kersh took all your resources away, told you to give up, you didn't stop lookin' for me."
"I couldn't, just as you couldn't stop searching for me. Our strength lies in each other."
John slowly released Monica from their embrace. As he did he placed a kiss on her forehead, just above the welt that he had caused. He looked deep into her eyes. "You know...you know how much...I don't think I ever told you how much...." How was it that Monica always made him so breathless, so tongue-tied?
"I know," said Monica giving him a smile that lit up her eyes. "Me too."
John nodded and a smile grew on his face that mirrored Monica's. He got up and extended his hand to her. He wasn't going to let Linda Bowman win. He wasn't going to let her tear apart his relationship with Monica. "C'mon let's get you outta here."
"Okay, partner," said Monica as she gladly took his hand as he helped her up.
John let out his arm and Monica linked her arm to his. It was still a little difficult for her to walk. "Why don't I get you a wheelchair or somethin'?"
Monica shook her head. "I walked into this hospital with you and that's the way I'm leaving."
John put his free hand over top of Monica's that rested on his arm and the two walked out of the hospital. They were once again whole.
The End
"Beneath the rule of men entirely great the pen is mightier than the sword. Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great."-Roger Bussy-Rabutin-"Maximes d'Amour"
"My love's more ponderous than my tongue."-Shakespeare-"King Lear"
"Today I being to understand what love must be...when we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence."-Edmond Louis Antoine Huot De Goncourt-"The Goncourt Journals"
By: Olivia
John watched through the window of the hospital room door as a doctor checked Monica out. She was bruised and battered. Her spirit didn't seem broken, but in the past 24 hours, John's sight, his perception of reality, was the last thing he trusted.
The doctor finished putting the last bandage on Monica's wrist. Monica nodded at the words he spoke to her that John was unable to hear. The doctor exited the room. He saw John and, recognizing him at the most concerned party of the group that had brought Monica into the hospital, walked across the hall to him.
"How is she, Doc?" John asked. His voice only slightly betrayed his inner anxiety, his inner turmoil.
"She's fine, nothing too serious. Mostly slight cuts and bruises. The worst is the rope burn on her wrists and ankles from where they tied her up and from her escape effort. Mentally, I'd say she's doing better than I would be in her case."
John could only nod, relieved at his words. "Thank you," was all he could get out, but the doctor understood all that John really felt in those two simple words. The doctor nodded and left John alone, standing in the hallway.
John only hesitated for a second before entering Monica's room. At his entrance, Monica's face lit up. John took in Monica's cuts, bruises, and bandages. John quite frankly could say his partner had definitely seen better days, but to John she was a beautiful sight.
After a few seconds of silence, Monica attempted a smile and a bit of gallows humor. "If you think I look bad, you should see the other woman..."
John was not amused at a joke that he was fond of using whenever he himself had taken a beat down. John's attention focused on a particular red welt on Monica's forehead. He stretched out his hand and lightly touched it with his fingers.
Monica winced ever so slightly even though his touch was gentle. The significance wasn't lost on her. It was the welt that John had caused when he had rammed the muzzle of his gun into her forehead when he had nearly shot her.
Monica raised her hand to John's, pulling it tenderly away from her forehead. She put her hand into his. Still holding her hand, John wearily sat down beside her on the hospital bed.
"You can't blame yourself, you know," said Monica quietly, sensing John's guilt. "The game was rigged from the beginning. Bowman had this all planned. She couldn't get back at Mulder and Scully, so she decided to take out her vengeance on us. She escaped from the institution, kidnapped me with the help of her cousin-a guard there, led you to the warehouse, and left me in an escapable position with access to a gun. She planned it all. Either way she wasn't going back to the institution, to jail. You can't blame yourself John because if you do, she wins. She didn't win, John. When she pulled that gun on you, I shot her. She's dead. She's not coming back."
John just looked at Monica incredulously. "Monica, I nearly killed you today," said John in a broken, defeated voice. "Instead to savin' you, I nearly got both of us killed. All because I couldn't believe, because I couldn't look past what I saw with my eyes, I nearly killed you. It was the same thing with Mulder, she knew that we could never forgive ourselves if we...if I...."
Monica squeezed his hand. She wanted to assuage his guilt, to make him feel better. She didn't blame him. John had a tendency to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and this was one burden she was trying to prevent him from carrying. "But you didn't, John. I'm fine."
John just shook his head. "I'm not the right person for this job. We both know it. I was a fool to think otherwise. I thought I could do this job, but I can't. You need another partner who can better watch your back. Someone who's more open-minded than me."
It was Monica's turn to shake her head. She didn't like where this conversation was headed. "You are my partner. I don't want or need another one. We are the only two people who can do this job. Together we make it work, just like today. The office needs a skeptic and a believer. I can't do this job without you."
John couldn't help but smile at Monica's passionate speech. It was just like her to be placed in mortal danger and then afterwards try to make him feel better.
John didn't say anything for a few moments. Slowly his smiled faded as the realization of all that had been potentially lost to him overwhelmed him. "I don't know if you'll ever realize...those days you were gone...it was just like when Luke had disappeared...."
"No, I understand. It was like that time you were lost in Mexico. At one point the police were going to show me this dead body. I thought it might have been you."
John let go of Monica's hand and slipped his arms around her waist pulling her into a hug. Monica wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling John even closer to her. She stroked the back of his neck with on of her hands.
John finally spoke, his voice full of gratitude and awe. "Even when Kersh took all your resources away, told you to give up, you didn't stop lookin' for me."
"I couldn't, just as you couldn't stop searching for me. Our strength lies in each other."
John slowly released Monica from their embrace. As he did he placed a kiss on her forehead, just above the welt that he had caused. He looked deep into her eyes. "You know...you know how much...I don't think I ever told you how much...." How was it that Monica always made him so breathless, so tongue-tied?
"I know," said Monica giving him a smile that lit up her eyes. "Me too."
John nodded and a smile grew on his face that mirrored Monica's. He got up and extended his hand to her. He wasn't going to let Linda Bowman win. He wasn't going to let her tear apart his relationship with Monica. "C'mon let's get you outta here."
"Okay, partner," said Monica as she gladly took his hand as he helped her up.
John let out his arm and Monica linked her arm to his. It was still a little difficult for her to walk. "Why don't I get you a wheelchair or somethin'?"
Monica shook her head. "I walked into this hospital with you and that's the way I'm leaving."
John put his free hand over top of Monica's that rested on his arm and the two walked out of the hospital. They were once again whole.
The End
"Beneath the rule of men entirely great the pen is mightier than the sword. Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great."-Roger Bussy-Rabutin-"Maximes d'Amour"
"My love's more ponderous than my tongue."-Shakespeare-"King Lear"
"Today I being to understand what love must be...when we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence."-Edmond Louis Antoine Huot De Goncourt-"The Goncourt Journals"
