Title: Trust or Fail (hypothesis testing)
Author: Lisa
Email: lc7685@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don't own them
Summary: Post-Underneath, with strong spoilers to Hellbound and references
to several other eps. DRF/DRR
Rating: PG
John looked over at Monica. She was staring into the water at their feet. The lights made it appear as though the water was a glistening pool, and the reflections danced across her shining skin. She was soaked through. John could only imagine that she'd fallen in at some point. Probably lost her balance. He wondered what kind of shoes she was wearing- His thoughts stopped as she looked over to him, eyes wide in anticipation that he was about to say something. John never understood how she knew what he was going to say before he said it. She seemed to know, anyway.
"You wanna lift?" he asked. For someone who knew when he was going to ask a question, she sure didn't have her answers prepared.
"How's your shoulder?"
"I'll live." She nodded absent-mindedly and stared back down at the water. There were only a few forensic officers left. Fassel's body had been removed. John became suddenly impatient. "So you want that lift or not?" he demanded. Monica shook her head and turned, heading slowly back out.
"No, it's okay." John followed.
"Monica!" he called, wondering which way she'd gone. He knew you had to turn right to get out of this place, but he had an awful feeling she'd gone the other way. "Agent Reyes!" Monica appeared behind him, out of his line of vision.
"I'm behind you, John," she stated quietly. John spun on his heels. She was no longer wearing the police garment she'd been handed to keep warm, and her arms were folded across her chest. She brushed past him and kept walking, turning right and heading towards the exit. John stood at the bottom of the steps and watched her climb up, before doing the same. What the hell was wrong with her now?
When he got out, he looked around for Dana, and found her wrapping a large blanket around Monica. There was a paramedic van parked on a patch of lawn and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself, seeing Monica roll her eyes as they shined a light in them. She said something to them, huffing over at Dana, who shrugged, before the medics turned their attention to where he was approaching.
"You all right sir?"
"Yeah, just a scratch," he replied. Nevertheless, they sat him down at the back of the ambulance. He and Monica shared a look before Monica took off the blanket and folded it back up, leaving it next to him. She took off to where Dana was talking to several plain clothes officers and joined them.
"You don't need any stitches-" One medic remarked, pulling a clear tape over the wound. "But keep it dry."
"Yeah, yeah I know. Keep it clean, keep it dry."
"You've done this before?" the female medic asked.
"Numerous times."
"Well we won't keep you then." John pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it up.
"Thankyou," he replied curtly, walking away. He made his way over to Dana, who was approaching him.
"I'm expected back in Washington tonight but you and Monica can have the extra night, Skinner's orders."
"Where is she?"
"Monica?" He nodded, looking around and noticing their car was gone. "I'm not sure. She said she was going for a walk."
"That's more than a walk," he stated as Dana realised there was no car. "Could you give me a lift?"
"Of course. You know where she is?"
"I think so," he replied. "But I can't go there. Just back to the hotel." Dana nodded.
"Sure."
The ride, for the first few minutes, was silent. Dana broke it.
"Some theory, hey?" John nodded silently. "I don't know how she does it."
"Who?"
"Agent Reyes."
"She's psychic," he replied cynically.
"Really?" Dana asked, interested. John shrugged.
"I dunno, no, I'm just-"
"Letting off steam. I'm sorry about your partner."
"I trusted him, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Dana smiled to herself. John and Monica were more similar than they realised. Monica had told her friend about no longer trusting Brad Follmer and why, but as far as she knew, John didn't know the details. "So what's your theory?" she asked instead.
"My theory? On what?"
"Tonight." He shook his head again and sighed.
"I dunno Agent Scully-"
"John, I call you John, you call me Dana. We're not at work."
"Yeah, sorry. It's a habit."
"All right. You must have some idea about what happened-"
"It's weird. I don't. I can't.understand it."
"And while you can't understand it, you reject Monica's hypothesis?"
"I can't understand it, but also I can't accept it. Monica should know that."
"I know the feeling, John. It's as though even though you've been given this theory and you deny it - it's way out there and ordinarily you wouldn't have believed it in a million years - when you see it for yourself and you see that it works. A part of you has to believe it, which means you end up questioning everything you previously believed in. Like reincarnation."
"Van Allen."
"Yes. Do you believe in reincarnation?"
"No."
"Not even maybe a little? John, you saw what we did-"
"You're telling me you believe in reincarnation now Dana?" John exclaimed.
"I think it's possible," Dana replied, glancing over at him. Her eyes were bright, alive, he thought. He sighed.
"Never noticed how much Monica sounds like Mulder-"
"They're very different people," Dana cut him off. "For one, Mulder didn't mind that I didn't, at first, try to understand. He didn't mind that I ignored everything I'd seen until the last possible minute, where I almost rushed a change of heart. I think Monica cares very much that you trust her."
"I trust her! How could I not?" Dana pulled up outside the hotel and turned to John.
"I'm not sure if I should be telling you this."
"What?"
"I'm not certain, of course, because she hasn't told me much."
"Monica?" Dana nodded.
"I think, though, that she believes Van Allen was right."
"I know she does. She thinks we're all just born again to get to a better place."
"I don't think that's it, John. Have you talked to her about it?"
"It was a month or something ago."
"Why does that matter?" she asked. John didn't reply, unbuckling his seat belt.
*
John had beaten Monica back to the hotel by a good hour. After showering and waiting up, making notes for his report, he was about ready to turn in for the night. However, as he pulled on his pyjamas - an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers - he heard the shower in the next room start up. He left his room and walked to hers, to wait for her to finish. He noticed her bag on the floor by the door and picked it up, setting it on the small table, where he sat.
*
Monica was humming lightly to herself as she towelled her hair dry and pulled on her pyjamas. She was feeling better after a long, hot shower, and the steamy room around her smelled of citrus and soap. She ran a comb loosely through her hair, leaving it slightly tangled for the time being, and went to find something to eat. Or drink.
John resisted the urge to remark as he saw her come out of the bathroom wearing a faded black cotton/polyester slip and walk to the small kitchen, knelling down and opening the poor excuse of a fridge.
She reached in and pulled out what looked like an apple, before standing back up and turning. 'I should check my gun,' she'd realised silently.
She jumped a mile high when she saw John sitting there, her heart skipping several beats then pounding in her chest.
"Jesus John!" she exclaimed. He was just sitting there. "What are you doing here?" She looked down at where she'd dropped her apple in fright. "There goes dinner."
"Was wonderin' if you wanted to order a pizza or something?" John asked. Monica looked back up. Pizza, or a bruised piece of fruit. Too easy.
"Sure," she replied, walking to the table and pulling out her wallet and phone.
"I'll call," he said, using her phone to order as she collected some money together.
*
Half an hour later Monica, wrapped now in a dressing gown, paid for the pizza and brought it back to where John was sitting - on the kitchen bench.
"New York pizza," he sighed, as he watched her looking around for something. "What do you need now?"
"Plates." John laughed.
"Why you always need plates?" He hopped off the bed. "Last time you went looking for plates you got all teary on me, and I'm not gonna let that happen again." He grabbed the box and walked to the bedroom, sitting smack down on the middle of the bed. She followed him.
"What are you doing?"
"We're in a hotel, Mon. They don't care if we make a mess. Sit." She smirked, walking over and sitting cross-legged opposite John and an open pizza box.
"God that looks good."
"It definitely does. Tastes better." He pulled off a piece and started eating. "So where'd you go tonight? I got up and realised I didn't have a car."
"Sorry-"
"Got a ride with Agent Scully."
"I just went for a drive, you know."
"Drive out to the woods?"
"Somewhere like that," she replied. "You're right, this is good. What's the name of the company? I wonder if they deliver to Washington." John laughed.
"I doubt it, Mon."
"So, John, why you asking me where I was if you knew perfectly well where I was?"
"Just making conversation." He paused. "What's it like?" Monica shrugged.
"I wanted to see."
"Why?" She shrugged again, and the room fell into silence apart from their eating.
"Has Dana gone back to Washington?" John checked the bedside clock.
"Flight left half an hour ago." Monica nodded. "She, uh, spoke to Skinner and he seems happy with the case."
"Good. That's good."
"Mon, you okay?" She glanced up at him.
"Yeah."
"You're not very talkative."
"I'm sorry about your partner. What's going to happen to him?"
"Dunno."
"Do you miss New York?" John laughed.
"Now? Not really. Sometimes I do." She nodded.
"Yeah."
"How about you? Miss New Orleans?"
"No!" She smiled.
"Ahuh! There we go."
"What?"
"You're smilin'."
"So?"
"So I haven't seen you smile since you stepped out of that shower."
"Well sorry!" she mocked, taking another slice of pizza. John chuckled.
"Listen Mon, I know I'm doing a really bad job here of saying sorry-" Monica's eyebrows shot up.
"You've got nothing to be sorry about John. I don't understand."
"Fassel. I know you wanted me to believe, and I just, I can't-"
"I didn't want you to believe, John. I hoped you might, after seeing what you did, but it's okay."
"Why does everything always have to be okay?"
"What?" John looked at her, exasperated.
"Monica, everything's always okay. It's okay John, I'm good, it's good, it's okay. I know it's not."
"And how do you know that?" she asked, a bit quieter.
"Cos I know you. I can tell when it's not okay. It wasn't okay for me to snap at you down there tonight about the ride back, and when you go drivin' to where they...found Luke, then you're not okay." She looked at him, and seemed to be weighing up her options.
"What can I say John? I was pissed at you, but I'm not any more."
"Why not?"
"Because I got it out of my system." They paused. John realised the pizza box was empty and closed the lid absent-mindedly.
"You trust me, Mon?"
"Of course, John," she replied earnestly. He looked up at her.
"Then why don't you tell me how you feel? Talk to me, Monica."
"There's nothing much to say."
"If you don't start, I will." She glanced up at him, her hair drying against her cheeks and along her shoulders.
"Okay," she mouthed.
"Agent Scully seems to think you don't trust yourself." Monica's mouth opened.
"Of course I trust myself," she protested. "You think I was lying about believing what I said about Fassel and what he was doing?"
"No, hang on. That didn't come out right. Dana thinks that you trust what you're saying, and all of us, and the cases, but she thinks you still think you're failing. Even when you get it right." He hesitated. "Like you did tonight."
"I didn't get it right tonight."
"Yeah, Monica. You did." She looked up at him.
"You don't believe it."
"But you do. It doesn't matter what I believe, does it?"
"What you believe has always mattered to me, John." John tried to work out what to say next. He didn't have to. "Maybe.you're right, on some level," she continued.
"Yeah?" he asked. She nodded.
"Have you thought about it much?"
"Which?"
"Fassel, Van Allen, all of it. Do you know what it means?"
"Since I joined the X Files, I dunno what anything means any more." She smiled, wistful.
"It's strange. I've had nightmares, you know. Skinned bodies, you on your deathbed, being attacked by swarms of insects. Some, man who resembles Jesus running after us- I'm just trying to make sense of it all."
"I know you are. I've been a bit of a prick, haven't I?" Monica smiled.
"We all have our bad days. Or in your case-" She laughed as John reached for a pillow and threw it at her head.
"That's very funny Agent Reyes-" She threw it back at him and he caught it, letting it rest beside him. Monica had gotten off the bed, and taken the pizza box into the kitchen. He found her drinking water from a glass as she leant against the sink. "Mon."
"Yeah?"
"I don't want things to be awkward between us cos we've got a different perspective on life."
"Neither do I."
"And, well, I been thinking more than I've told you."
"Oh?"
"On some level I'd like it to be possible, you know, to live again. So Luke could try again, you know? So he'd have a future, even if he wasn't...himself. And I don't mind where he is, whether he's in another world or this one, as long as he's growin' up happy and strong. I just don't want the same bastard who... to meet him again, you know?"
"Yeah, I know."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"If that stuff exists- And Van Allen or whatever his name is can find all of you all over again- Did you find us do you think?"
"Us?"
"You know. Agent Scully, myself, Skinner... Follmer, even."
"No, I don't think so." John nodded. "Why?" She watched him smile to himself.
"Thought it'd be neat." Their eyes locked.
"I thought it already was," she replied, smiling back. "Does this mean you believe in reincarnation now, Agent Doggett?" she smirked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. John cocked his head, thinking.
"This means I've thought about it."
"And what about Fassel?"
"I'll think about it. I know you're right, Monica, about Fassel. I just can't admit it to myself."
"Had a chat with Scully have you?"
"She drove me here since you took off!" Monica put the glass she'd been holding on the bench and walked right up to him.
"Can I hug you?" she asked in her usual, casually curious manner. He watched her carefully, before letting her step closer and pulling her to him. After a minute or so she pulled back, neither of them really wanting to. "Thankyou John," she replied, stepping out of his personal space. "I think I'll get some sleep." He nodded.
"See you tomorrow morning." They exchanged pleasantries and John left. Instead of returning to his apartment, however, he took the car and went for a drive.
*
John felt as though he was going to chicken out at any moment, but he had to see. He was drawn to it. He stepped out of his car and onto the road, walking some way down, but stopped when his eyes caught a flash of colour much closer to the road than he expected. He continued forward, and realised that there were fresh flowers at the bottom of a nearby tree. He knelt beside them - they must have been from a local supermarket. Nothing flash, but it was a nice arrangement, held together only by a couple of rubber bands.
This had to be Monica. She was here earlier tonight. He knew it. Although, like him, it seemed as though she hadn't been able to go all the way in. John had had no intention of doing so either. He picked the flowers up in his hands as he stood. John couldn't believe how special his FBI partner was. As 'out there' as her theories may have been, she knew who he was, who his family was, and she wasn't scared of who she was, her feelings. Not like him. He didn't have the heart to tell her what he wanted her to understand more than anything. Maybe one day, he would, he thought as he put the flowers back against the tree. But until then life would have to go on.
*
Monica was waiting for John outside his hotel room when he returned.
"I thought you were gonna get some sleep?" he asked. She shrugged. "Found the flowers. Thankyou."
"Couldn't go in."
"Neither could I. One day, maybe." Monica nodded, reaching out her hand.
"Come sit with me."
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at the stars. Each one shining brightly, perfect and yet millions of years old-"
"Wonder what you'd look like millions of years old..." he joked, eyeing her over. Monica laughed.
"Shut up or go to bed buster." He laughed back, quieting down and preferring to sit beside his partner, his friend, and watch her stargaze. Tomorrow was DC, back to work and back to normal, but tonight was all theirs, to spend together, however they wanted.
"You want a drink?" he asked after a moment, standing.
"Yeah, thanks."
Half an hour later he hadn't returned. Monica got up and went into his room, finding him fast asleep on his bed, two cans of drink lying beside him. She smiled, finding a blanket and covering him with it, and taking the drinks and putting them back in the mini-fridge.
"John, John, John," she whispered, closing his door behind her as she left and headed to her own room to sleep the rest of the night. He looked so peaceful and she knew he'd be okay, believing of her theory or not.
***
John looked over at Monica. She was staring into the water at their feet. The lights made it appear as though the water was a glistening pool, and the reflections danced across her shining skin. She was soaked through. John could only imagine that she'd fallen in at some point. Probably lost her balance. He wondered what kind of shoes she was wearing- His thoughts stopped as she looked over to him, eyes wide in anticipation that he was about to say something. John never understood how she knew what he was going to say before he said it. She seemed to know, anyway.
"You wanna lift?" he asked. For someone who knew when he was going to ask a question, she sure didn't have her answers prepared.
"How's your shoulder?"
"I'll live." She nodded absent-mindedly and stared back down at the water. There were only a few forensic officers left. Fassel's body had been removed. John became suddenly impatient. "So you want that lift or not?" he demanded. Monica shook her head and turned, heading slowly back out.
"No, it's okay." John followed.
"Monica!" he called, wondering which way she'd gone. He knew you had to turn right to get out of this place, but he had an awful feeling she'd gone the other way. "Agent Reyes!" Monica appeared behind him, out of his line of vision.
"I'm behind you, John," she stated quietly. John spun on his heels. She was no longer wearing the police garment she'd been handed to keep warm, and her arms were folded across her chest. She brushed past him and kept walking, turning right and heading towards the exit. John stood at the bottom of the steps and watched her climb up, before doing the same. What the hell was wrong with her now?
When he got out, he looked around for Dana, and found her wrapping a large blanket around Monica. There was a paramedic van parked on a patch of lawn and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself, seeing Monica roll her eyes as they shined a light in them. She said something to them, huffing over at Dana, who shrugged, before the medics turned their attention to where he was approaching.
"You all right sir?"
"Yeah, just a scratch," he replied. Nevertheless, they sat him down at the back of the ambulance. He and Monica shared a look before Monica took off the blanket and folded it back up, leaving it next to him. She took off to where Dana was talking to several plain clothes officers and joined them.
"You don't need any stitches-" One medic remarked, pulling a clear tape over the wound. "But keep it dry."
"Yeah, yeah I know. Keep it clean, keep it dry."
"You've done this before?" the female medic asked.
"Numerous times."
"Well we won't keep you then." John pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it up.
"Thankyou," he replied curtly, walking away. He made his way over to Dana, who was approaching him.
"I'm expected back in Washington tonight but you and Monica can have the extra night, Skinner's orders."
"Where is she?"
"Monica?" He nodded, looking around and noticing their car was gone. "I'm not sure. She said she was going for a walk."
"That's more than a walk," he stated as Dana realised there was no car. "Could you give me a lift?"
"Of course. You know where she is?"
"I think so," he replied. "But I can't go there. Just back to the hotel." Dana nodded.
"Sure."
The ride, for the first few minutes, was silent. Dana broke it.
"Some theory, hey?" John nodded silently. "I don't know how she does it."
"Who?"
"Agent Reyes."
"She's psychic," he replied cynically.
"Really?" Dana asked, interested. John shrugged.
"I dunno, no, I'm just-"
"Letting off steam. I'm sorry about your partner."
"I trusted him, you know?"
"Yeah, I know." Dana smiled to herself. John and Monica were more similar than they realised. Monica had told her friend about no longer trusting Brad Follmer and why, but as far as she knew, John didn't know the details. "So what's your theory?" she asked instead.
"My theory? On what?"
"Tonight." He shook his head again and sighed.
"I dunno Agent Scully-"
"John, I call you John, you call me Dana. We're not at work."
"Yeah, sorry. It's a habit."
"All right. You must have some idea about what happened-"
"It's weird. I don't. I can't.understand it."
"And while you can't understand it, you reject Monica's hypothesis?"
"I can't understand it, but also I can't accept it. Monica should know that."
"I know the feeling, John. It's as though even though you've been given this theory and you deny it - it's way out there and ordinarily you wouldn't have believed it in a million years - when you see it for yourself and you see that it works. A part of you has to believe it, which means you end up questioning everything you previously believed in. Like reincarnation."
"Van Allen."
"Yes. Do you believe in reincarnation?"
"No."
"Not even maybe a little? John, you saw what we did-"
"You're telling me you believe in reincarnation now Dana?" John exclaimed.
"I think it's possible," Dana replied, glancing over at him. Her eyes were bright, alive, he thought. He sighed.
"Never noticed how much Monica sounds like Mulder-"
"They're very different people," Dana cut him off. "For one, Mulder didn't mind that I didn't, at first, try to understand. He didn't mind that I ignored everything I'd seen until the last possible minute, where I almost rushed a change of heart. I think Monica cares very much that you trust her."
"I trust her! How could I not?" Dana pulled up outside the hotel and turned to John.
"I'm not sure if I should be telling you this."
"What?"
"I'm not certain, of course, because she hasn't told me much."
"Monica?" Dana nodded.
"I think, though, that she believes Van Allen was right."
"I know she does. She thinks we're all just born again to get to a better place."
"I don't think that's it, John. Have you talked to her about it?"
"It was a month or something ago."
"Why does that matter?" she asked. John didn't reply, unbuckling his seat belt.
*
John had beaten Monica back to the hotel by a good hour. After showering and waiting up, making notes for his report, he was about ready to turn in for the night. However, as he pulled on his pyjamas - an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers - he heard the shower in the next room start up. He left his room and walked to hers, to wait for her to finish. He noticed her bag on the floor by the door and picked it up, setting it on the small table, where he sat.
*
Monica was humming lightly to herself as she towelled her hair dry and pulled on her pyjamas. She was feeling better after a long, hot shower, and the steamy room around her smelled of citrus and soap. She ran a comb loosely through her hair, leaving it slightly tangled for the time being, and went to find something to eat. Or drink.
John resisted the urge to remark as he saw her come out of the bathroom wearing a faded black cotton/polyester slip and walk to the small kitchen, knelling down and opening the poor excuse of a fridge.
She reached in and pulled out what looked like an apple, before standing back up and turning. 'I should check my gun,' she'd realised silently.
She jumped a mile high when she saw John sitting there, her heart skipping several beats then pounding in her chest.
"Jesus John!" she exclaimed. He was just sitting there. "What are you doing here?" She looked down at where she'd dropped her apple in fright. "There goes dinner."
"Was wonderin' if you wanted to order a pizza or something?" John asked. Monica looked back up. Pizza, or a bruised piece of fruit. Too easy.
"Sure," she replied, walking to the table and pulling out her wallet and phone.
"I'll call," he said, using her phone to order as she collected some money together.
*
Half an hour later Monica, wrapped now in a dressing gown, paid for the pizza and brought it back to where John was sitting - on the kitchen bench.
"New York pizza," he sighed, as he watched her looking around for something. "What do you need now?"
"Plates." John laughed.
"Why you always need plates?" He hopped off the bed. "Last time you went looking for plates you got all teary on me, and I'm not gonna let that happen again." He grabbed the box and walked to the bedroom, sitting smack down on the middle of the bed. She followed him.
"What are you doing?"
"We're in a hotel, Mon. They don't care if we make a mess. Sit." She smirked, walking over and sitting cross-legged opposite John and an open pizza box.
"God that looks good."
"It definitely does. Tastes better." He pulled off a piece and started eating. "So where'd you go tonight? I got up and realised I didn't have a car."
"Sorry-"
"Got a ride with Agent Scully."
"I just went for a drive, you know."
"Drive out to the woods?"
"Somewhere like that," she replied. "You're right, this is good. What's the name of the company? I wonder if they deliver to Washington." John laughed.
"I doubt it, Mon."
"So, John, why you asking me where I was if you knew perfectly well where I was?"
"Just making conversation." He paused. "What's it like?" Monica shrugged.
"I wanted to see."
"Why?" She shrugged again, and the room fell into silence apart from their eating.
"Has Dana gone back to Washington?" John checked the bedside clock.
"Flight left half an hour ago." Monica nodded. "She, uh, spoke to Skinner and he seems happy with the case."
"Good. That's good."
"Mon, you okay?" She glanced up at him.
"Yeah."
"You're not very talkative."
"I'm sorry about your partner. What's going to happen to him?"
"Dunno."
"Do you miss New York?" John laughed.
"Now? Not really. Sometimes I do." She nodded.
"Yeah."
"How about you? Miss New Orleans?"
"No!" She smiled.
"Ahuh! There we go."
"What?"
"You're smilin'."
"So?"
"So I haven't seen you smile since you stepped out of that shower."
"Well sorry!" she mocked, taking another slice of pizza. John chuckled.
"Listen Mon, I know I'm doing a really bad job here of saying sorry-" Monica's eyebrows shot up.
"You've got nothing to be sorry about John. I don't understand."
"Fassel. I know you wanted me to believe, and I just, I can't-"
"I didn't want you to believe, John. I hoped you might, after seeing what you did, but it's okay."
"Why does everything always have to be okay?"
"What?" John looked at her, exasperated.
"Monica, everything's always okay. It's okay John, I'm good, it's good, it's okay. I know it's not."
"And how do you know that?" she asked, a bit quieter.
"Cos I know you. I can tell when it's not okay. It wasn't okay for me to snap at you down there tonight about the ride back, and when you go drivin' to where they...found Luke, then you're not okay." She looked at him, and seemed to be weighing up her options.
"What can I say John? I was pissed at you, but I'm not any more."
"Why not?"
"Because I got it out of my system." They paused. John realised the pizza box was empty and closed the lid absent-mindedly.
"You trust me, Mon?"
"Of course, John," she replied earnestly. He looked up at her.
"Then why don't you tell me how you feel? Talk to me, Monica."
"There's nothing much to say."
"If you don't start, I will." She glanced up at him, her hair drying against her cheeks and along her shoulders.
"Okay," she mouthed.
"Agent Scully seems to think you don't trust yourself." Monica's mouth opened.
"Of course I trust myself," she protested. "You think I was lying about believing what I said about Fassel and what he was doing?"
"No, hang on. That didn't come out right. Dana thinks that you trust what you're saying, and all of us, and the cases, but she thinks you still think you're failing. Even when you get it right." He hesitated. "Like you did tonight."
"I didn't get it right tonight."
"Yeah, Monica. You did." She looked up at him.
"You don't believe it."
"But you do. It doesn't matter what I believe, does it?"
"What you believe has always mattered to me, John." John tried to work out what to say next. He didn't have to. "Maybe.you're right, on some level," she continued.
"Yeah?" he asked. She nodded.
"Have you thought about it much?"
"Which?"
"Fassel, Van Allen, all of it. Do you know what it means?"
"Since I joined the X Files, I dunno what anything means any more." She smiled, wistful.
"It's strange. I've had nightmares, you know. Skinned bodies, you on your deathbed, being attacked by swarms of insects. Some, man who resembles Jesus running after us- I'm just trying to make sense of it all."
"I know you are. I've been a bit of a prick, haven't I?" Monica smiled.
"We all have our bad days. Or in your case-" She laughed as John reached for a pillow and threw it at her head.
"That's very funny Agent Reyes-" She threw it back at him and he caught it, letting it rest beside him. Monica had gotten off the bed, and taken the pizza box into the kitchen. He found her drinking water from a glass as she leant against the sink. "Mon."
"Yeah?"
"I don't want things to be awkward between us cos we've got a different perspective on life."
"Neither do I."
"And, well, I been thinking more than I've told you."
"Oh?"
"On some level I'd like it to be possible, you know, to live again. So Luke could try again, you know? So he'd have a future, even if he wasn't...himself. And I don't mind where he is, whether he's in another world or this one, as long as he's growin' up happy and strong. I just don't want the same bastard who... to meet him again, you know?"
"Yeah, I know."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"If that stuff exists- And Van Allen or whatever his name is can find all of you all over again- Did you find us do you think?"
"Us?"
"You know. Agent Scully, myself, Skinner... Follmer, even."
"No, I don't think so." John nodded. "Why?" She watched him smile to himself.
"Thought it'd be neat." Their eyes locked.
"I thought it already was," she replied, smiling back. "Does this mean you believe in reincarnation now, Agent Doggett?" she smirked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. John cocked his head, thinking.
"This means I've thought about it."
"And what about Fassel?"
"I'll think about it. I know you're right, Monica, about Fassel. I just can't admit it to myself."
"Had a chat with Scully have you?"
"She drove me here since you took off!" Monica put the glass she'd been holding on the bench and walked right up to him.
"Can I hug you?" she asked in her usual, casually curious manner. He watched her carefully, before letting her step closer and pulling her to him. After a minute or so she pulled back, neither of them really wanting to. "Thankyou John," she replied, stepping out of his personal space. "I think I'll get some sleep." He nodded.
"See you tomorrow morning." They exchanged pleasantries and John left. Instead of returning to his apartment, however, he took the car and went for a drive.
*
John felt as though he was going to chicken out at any moment, but he had to see. He was drawn to it. He stepped out of his car and onto the road, walking some way down, but stopped when his eyes caught a flash of colour much closer to the road than he expected. He continued forward, and realised that there were fresh flowers at the bottom of a nearby tree. He knelt beside them - they must have been from a local supermarket. Nothing flash, but it was a nice arrangement, held together only by a couple of rubber bands.
This had to be Monica. She was here earlier tonight. He knew it. Although, like him, it seemed as though she hadn't been able to go all the way in. John had had no intention of doing so either. He picked the flowers up in his hands as he stood. John couldn't believe how special his FBI partner was. As 'out there' as her theories may have been, she knew who he was, who his family was, and she wasn't scared of who she was, her feelings. Not like him. He didn't have the heart to tell her what he wanted her to understand more than anything. Maybe one day, he would, he thought as he put the flowers back against the tree. But until then life would have to go on.
*
Monica was waiting for John outside his hotel room when he returned.
"I thought you were gonna get some sleep?" he asked. She shrugged. "Found the flowers. Thankyou."
"Couldn't go in."
"Neither could I. One day, maybe." Monica nodded, reaching out her hand.
"Come sit with me."
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at the stars. Each one shining brightly, perfect and yet millions of years old-"
"Wonder what you'd look like millions of years old..." he joked, eyeing her over. Monica laughed.
"Shut up or go to bed buster." He laughed back, quieting down and preferring to sit beside his partner, his friend, and watch her stargaze. Tomorrow was DC, back to work and back to normal, but tonight was all theirs, to spend together, however they wanted.
"You want a drink?" he asked after a moment, standing.
"Yeah, thanks."
Half an hour later he hadn't returned. Monica got up and went into his room, finding him fast asleep on his bed, two cans of drink lying beside him. She smiled, finding a blanket and covering him with it, and taking the drinks and putting them back in the mini-fridge.
"John, John, John," she whispered, closing his door behind her as she left and headed to her own room to sleep the rest of the night. He looked so peaceful and she knew he'd be okay, believing of her theory or not.
***