Title: The Doggett/Scully Files: Escape
Chapter: 2/2
Series: The Doggett/Scully Files
Author: Cerasi J.
Spoilers: The Truth
Pairings: MSR, DRR
Archive: Please! Just let me know where.
Summary: What happens to John and Monica after they drive off in The Truth? Second part of series.
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't own the X-Files and never will, (Gods damn it all!!)
~*~*~
South Highway 54
New Mexico Desert
7:58 p.m.
They had to escape. There was no other option. They had to get out, drive until there was simply no more road left to drive on. John Doggett glanced over at his partner, Monica Reyes, and said, "Now what?"
The fear in her eyes was evident, she did nothing to hide it, she spoke softly, "I don't know." John felt the fear, too. It hammered at the back of his brain, warning him to get away, to run as far and as fast as he could. He shoved it down, he knew he had to be strong if they were going to get out of this mess alive. He had to be strong for Monica.
Monica turned in her seat, watching for the helicopters that had almost destroyed them less than an hour ago. She breathed deeply, the fear in her eyes toning down a bit. She turned back to John, "No sign of them… any idea why they were even there?"
With a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, John replied, "I don't know, Monica… I just don't know…" Her hands rested in her lap, she had so many things to say, so many questions, questions for which there were no answers.
She looked off to the west; the sun was just starting to dip beneath the horizon, splashing the clouds with brillant reds, purples, and golds.
"The sunsets out west were always so beautiful," she murmured quietly, almost to herself, "I miss living out here."
John stared at the endless stretch of road ahead of them, Monica's statement hitting his ears. "Yeah… I've never lived out here…" John knew his declaration didn't matter, but it broke the silence between them.
Monica's next question caught John off guard, "So, the money's been trasferred?" He looked sharply at her, "Yeah… right now it's Switzerland…" He looked at his watch; "In 24 minutes exactly it'll be sent to Taiwan."
She stared at him with wonder, "You've got this all worked out, don't you?"
John met her gaze, "Sort of. Byers, God rest his soul, said that we should fake our own deaths… what do you think about that?"
The colors in the clouds were brighter, stronger now. The planet Venus shimmered like a diamond above the majestic Rocky Mountains.
Monica pulled her feet onto the seat and rested her forehead on her knees. "I don't like the idea… I don't like the idea of me, Monica, being dead and some other, some new person, walking away from it all…" Her tone turned bitter, "But it seems we have no other choice."
Leaning over, John patted her shoulder tenderly, "I don't like the idea either, but to ourselves, we'll always be John and Monica."
She nodded, "Yeah… that's right." She sighed soundly, "I still don't like the idea."
"Neither do I, but we're out of options, Monica."
"Well," She said after a moment's pause, "How should we do it?"
John looked over at her, "Do what?"
"Fake our own deaths."
"Oh…" He thought on it, all the possible senarios playing out in his head. Finally, he rubbed a hand over his eyes and said, "Aw, jeez, I don't know... I haven't exactly faked a death before, you know?"
Chuckling, Monica replied, "Yeah, I know." Forcing his hands to release their white-knuckled grip on the wheel, John settled back in his seat. The LCD clock on the dashboard turned 8:07 p.m. The sun was completely gone; a few violet-colored clouds remained.
The stars were beginning to expose themselves, getting ready to dance merrily across the New Mexico sky for the next ten hours.
John looked out the driver's side window, bushy Joshusa trees casting long shadows against the golden sand.
He shifted his gaze to Monica, he studied her face. Her eyes were closed; her dark hair framed her beautiful face. She looked like she was sleeping. John suddenly felt the wild urge to kiss her. He wouldn't really mind it, kissing Monica. In fact, he'd had the chance to do it several times, but he never did and he always wished he would have.
John knew that if he had one wish that could be granted, it wouldn't be for money, or fame. It would be that he wished Monica felt the same way about him.
John also knew that if he didn't stop looking at Monica, he just might be forced to kiss her anyway. Fidgetting uncomfortably in his seat, he moved his eyes to glance out the passager's side window. Beyond the window were the same bushy Joshua trees, casting their evil looking shadows. Beyond the Joshua trees were more trees... and beyond that was something John had never expected to see in the middle of nowhere. An airstrip.
His crystal blue eyes lit up as a sudden idea stuck him across the face. He pulled off the road and slowed to a stop. Monica bolted upright, her eyes flying open, "John, what are you doing?"
John stared at the airstrip; Monica followed his gaze, "What are you looking at?"
Not tearing his eyes from the mini-airport in the distance, fearing it might disappear if he did, he answered, "That air-strip... is it military?"
Monica blinked at him, her thoughts still foggy from dozing. "Um. I don't know... why?"
Finally wrenching his sight away from the runway in the distance, he opened the console between the two seats, "A map, a map! There's gotta be a map in here!"
Not finding the item he was hoping to acquire, he unbuckled his seat belt, opened the door and ran around to the back of Knowle Rohrer's Ford Excursion. John opened the doors in the back of the large SUV and began to rumage around.
Monica, now free from the fogginess in her brain, also unbuckled her seat belt and rushed to the back to help John. "John," she said sharply, "Tell me what you're looking for!"
"A map," he returned, still digging through various supplies in the cargo area, "A map of New Mexico."
Monica threw a glance over her shoulder, still wary of the killer helicopters. "A map of New Mexico? What for?"
Turning, he handed Monica a bundle of clothes—a camo uniform. "Here, we might need these later."
She said nothing, only watched him with mild interest. "HA!!" John cried victoriously, he held a map of the United States above his head.
He grabbed the bundle of clothing from Monica, tossed it back inside and motioned for her to get back in the car.
When they were both seated inside again, he switched on the overhead reading lights, and studied the map closely.
Monica leaned over, trying to get a look at the map. The top of her head brushed against John's cheek, she blushed, "Sorry."
John waved a hand, "No problem." He smiled at her, and then returned to the map. "Where are we?" She asked.
"Well, we're on highway 54… so… we would have to be… somewhere… around…" He searched the map, "… here." He pointed to a little town on the map called Ancho. "Here. We're here, somewhere south of here, maybe…"
John handed the map over to Monica, who studied it just as closely, "Right here? Near Little Black Peak?"
"Yeah, I think so… but, look." He pointed at the map, his index finger tracing the road they were currently parked on, "There's a military base here, White Sands Missile Range, not open to the public… about thirty miles from here… why would they put what looks to be like a civilan airstrip way out here? In the middle of nowhere, and close to a missile testing range."
"Well," Monica started, meeting John's eyes, "Is the airstrip on the map?"
"No. And this is a military issue map, too."
She frowned, "What could it mean?"
He grinned slighty, a twinkle in his eye, "I really don't care right now, but I know how we can fake our deaths."
~*~*~
Fifteen minutes later, John was dressed in the same bundle of camo clothing he had handed Monica. She stood watching him as he buttoned his shirt.
She played nervously with the buttons on her thin jacket; New Mexico was scorching in the day time… but freezing at night.
Finshed dressing, John looked up at her and, brushing off his jacket, teased, "How do I look?" Monica chuckled, "Like you should be in Paris, really."
He laughed, "Sure, army camo is going to be flooding the Gap stores all across the country."
Monica didn't reply, she didn't like what John was about to do. When he presented the idea to her, it left a lingering heaviness in her heart, and a fear. A fear that he may never return.
John stopped laughing, and looked at her, concered, "What's wrong, Monica?"
Trying to smile, she said, "Nothing, nothing at all. Why?" He took a step closer to her, examining her face in the silver moonlight, "Something's wrong, what is it?"
Monica found herself getting lost in John's eyes… if that was even possible… she was pretty sure it was, since she found it hard to think straight.
She forced herself to look away from him, she couldn't bear looking into his eyes and thinking he might never return.
"Monica," John sounded worried now, "C'mon… what is it?"
Sighing softly, she met his eyes again, she despertly racked her brains for something witty to say, some smart comeback that would make him think she was perfectly fine. She could think of nothing of the sort, so she said simply, "I'm afraid."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm afraid you might never come back," Monica whispered.
John looked down at her, puzzled. "I'll come back, don't worry." Monica shut her eyes to block out his peircing gaze, "What if you don't? What happens then?"
He thought of nothing to say in reply, he simply looked down at her, wondering what would become of Monica if something did happen to him.
"Look," he said suddenly, he pointed toward the airstrip in the distance, the colored lights on the runway lighting up the somber New Mexico desert. "I don't plan on dying out there."
She opened her eyes and smiled in a wry, almost sarcastic manner. "Oh? Well, sometimes we don't always get to stick with our plans, John."
Now it was his turn to look away. He shook his head; "I didn't give you much of a choice anyway, did I? No, I just assumed you'd go with me to the ends of the Earth."
Still shaking his head, he started to walk toward the airstrip, then turned around again to face Monica. "Fine then, go. I understand. I understand that you'd rather live your life away from all the hell and destruction I happen to bring with me wherever I go, I understand that, I really do."
Monica looked at him, confusion written all over her face, "No, John… it's not like that at all."
"Then what is it? Huh?" He was starting to sound like he was about ready to turn and walk away from her forever.
Sighing heavily she said, "I don't want to lose you, John. What did you tell me? All for one and one for all, we're in it together." She pointed at him, then herself, her voice louder, "It's you and me, pal. Together. And you're right, I'd probably follow you to the ends of the Earth, you know why, John?"
She walked over to where he now stood, "Because I want to be with you, I love being with you, you're always there when I need someone…" Monica stared up into his eyes, "You just don't get it, do you? I love you, John. I love you."
He gaped at her. That was definatly something he was NOT expecting. Her words repeated over and over in his mind. "Y-you do?" He finally stammered.
Monica nodded, still looking up at him with expentant eyes; "From the moment I met you."
John grinned at her, unable to contain his glee, "WOOHOO!!" He threw his arms around her and twirled her in a happy hug. Monica laughed and hugged him back just as tight.
He put her back on the ground, and, before she could say anything more, gave into his fondest wish and kissed her.
When the kiss was finshed, John looked down at her once more, and said, "I'll come back to you, I promise."
Monica blinked back tears and hugged him tight, her voice was filled with emotion, "You better keep that promise."
"Hey," he said, resting his cheek on the top of her head, "It's me."
She chuckled, "That's what I'm afraid of."
When he could hold her no longer, he let her go and said, "You remember where we're supposed to meet?"
"Yes."
"Okay, good." Kissing her one last time he whispered to her, "I love you, too." He turned and with a smile and a wave started running in the direction of the airstrip.
Monica watched him go, still trying to blink back tears. She whispered into the darkness, "You'd better come back to me."
~*~*~
South Highway 54
Just outside of Carrizozo, New Mexico
9:00 p.m.
One hour later, Monica Reyes stood next to the stolen Ford Excursion, on the cross-roads of Highways 380 and 54.
She glared at the Ford SUV, sure, it had every modern do-hicky you could ever imagine, but did it come with extra gas tanks? Nooo… of course not.
Monica leaned against the side of the SUV, her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing the same kind of fatigues John was. They were tacky, but they were warmer, that was for sure.
Deciding that she wasn't going to get anywhere standing there, she grabbed her gun, a flashlight, and a Power Bar from the cargo area, and started on her way.
She kept walking south, she saw a sign a ways back for a town called Carrizozo, maybe she could find a car there…
Monica tucked the map under her arm and quickened her pace a little bit. A voice called out from behind her, "Hey, Monica!"
She spun around, grabbing for her gun. Directly behind her, stood her good friends, The Lone Gunmen. Monica gasped, "God! You guys have got to stop doing that!"
Frohike shrugged, "Sorry, listen, we can only stay for a minute, but here," he tossed her something. She held it up to the moon light, it was five cell phones in a plastic bag.
"What the hell am I going to do with these?" She demanded, "Call Triple A?" Byers also shrugged, "They're disposable, untraceable cell phones. We thought you might need them."
"Thanks…" Monica placed them in one of the deep pockets of her army jacket. "And my suggestion," Langly said, "Use a guy in Mexico City, his name is Hunter. Just Hunter, he's the best."
Puzzled, Monica asked, "Best at what?" Frohike said, "You'll see, we have to go now, and if you want to get there faster, car-jack this guy coming down the road."
"Car-jack-…?" Before Monica could ask another question, the Gunmen had disappeared. "Thank you," she whispered to the inky blackness.
She looked down the road to see a pair of yellow headlights perhaps a mile down the road.
But I can't car-jack that person, she thought. The other side of her brain argued, You're all ready wanted dead, what's a car going to matter?
Deciding to listen to the insane half of her brain, she pocketed the map, and placed her gun in the right pocket of the coat.
She stepped close to the highway and stuck her thumb out. The pair of headlights belonged to an older car, the driver slammed on the brakes, causing the tires to screech. Black marks were left on the road.
The driver, a young man with black hair, rolled down the window and eyed Monica suggestively, "Hey sweetheart, need a lift?"
Monica wore a coy look on her face, she bent down to peer into the window, drawing her gun and pointing it at him, she replied, "Hi there. I'm not stealing it, I'm just borrowing it." She smiled sweetly.
"Whoa!" The raven-haired young man opened the door and scampered away into the darkness.
Monica jumped inside, slammed the door and started to drive off. Stealing a glance into the rearview mirror, she watched the young man get in the Ford Excursion and try to start it. Leaning back in her seat, she mumbled, "Oh, I'm going to go to hell…"
Suddenly remembering the cell phones in her pocket, she pulled one out, looked at it and dialed a number as she drove. Placing the phone to her ear, she listened to it ring.
Once. Twice.
"Bueno?"
"Papa," Monica said, "It's me."
"Monica?" The voice on the other end said in English, "What's the matter?" She sighed, "Papa, listen, get Mama on the phone…"
Her father did as she asked, "Monica?" Rosa Reyes said, "Is that you?"
"Si, Mama… listen, I need your help…" Monica began speaking Spanish and south-of-the border in Mexico City, her parents listened with worried expressions.
To Be Continued…