Title: Watch Over You
Author: Lisa
Email: lc7685@yahoo.com.au
Disclaimer: I do not own X Files, and they remain the property of the
people/companies who do own it (like der) and I'm not writing this for
money! Yay!
Category: DRR Rating: I'm rating it R, just because it contains adult themes, medium level language, low level violence and one very tiny sex scene. Notes at Part One and final part
Scully walked freely into the house hours later, the front door of which was wide open, and immediately spotted Monica and John sitting silently beside each other on the couch. Monica looked up first.
"Dana," she stated. Scully took a seat.
"Gnash has just arrived as well," she stated. Monica nodded, remembering Vincent from the other week at Quantico. It seemed so long ago. "We'll find her, she can't have gone far."
"You're forgetting Dana," John finally spoke. "We've done this before. Don't even bother with the hope bullshit." He stood and walked upstairs and Monica looked down at her clasped hands. She watched as Scully covered them with her own and they locked eyes.
"Go up to him," she whispered. "Vince will find you in due time." Monica nodded and stood. Scully watched her slowly walk over to the stairs, yet as soon as her foot touched the first, something spurred her forward and she raced up them as fast as she could.
She found John sitting on their bed and he looked up hearing her thunderous footsteps. Monica stopped in the doorway, silently asking permission to enter and to be with him. John blinked and stretched out a hand. She walked up and sat facing him as he took her hand.
"We will find her," she repeated softly.
"That's what I'm afraid of," John replied, looking up at her.
"Oh John," Monica whispered, wrapping her arms around him, John's own hands running up and down her back, pulling her as close to him as he could.
"I don't think I can do this again, Monica," he choked as they rested their foreheads together. Monica's hands reached up and cupped the sides of his face.
"We can John. We can do this, you hear me?" She brushed her lips across his cheek. "I love you." John tightened his grip on her as she rested her head against his shoulder.
"I love you too," he whispered into her hair, feeling a few tears running against his neck. "Alive Mon," he added, nudging her back to face him as he ran a ringer along the fading bruise on her face. "We'll find her alive, you hear me? It's only been a few hours. Don't cry." Monica shook her head and ran a hand down her cheek as a knock came at the door.
Vincent Gnash appeared at the threshold, looking apologetic, sympathetic.
"John, Monica."
*
They took a seat in the living room and Monica took the opportunity to look around. It had mostly cleared out. Scully was in the kitchen on her phone, speaking quietly to someone or other. Monica turned her attention back to Vincent as he began to speak.
"Did you lock the front door on your way out John?"
"Uh, I told her to lock it after me."
"How long were you gone for?"
"Five, ten minutes," he replied.
"Have you received any threats lately?"
"No," Monica replied. Vince narrowed his eyes at her.
"Is that a bruise Monica?" Monica's hand went to the fresh scar on her right eye and she nodded.
"Yeah."
"And how'd you get that?" His glance veered more towards John and Monica immediately stepped in.
"No way Vince. Last week at JJ's school-"
"Oh, guys sorry I forgot." John gripped Monica's hand tighter.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"You think it's connected?" Vince asked.
"Connected?" Monica shook her head. "No, why would it be-"
"Wasn't there some reason to think he was looking for a-" Monica shook her head.
"No, it wasn't JJ. It, it couldn't be. Why would he want to..." she drifted off and bit her bottom lip. John's hand moved to her back and he squeezed gently.
"Mon?"
"Um..." She looked up at John, her eyes wide, and held his gaze. "There might be something." She looked back over at Vince.
"Take your time Monica."
"A couple of days before the incident at JJ's school, I got a call-"
"To the house?"
"Yes. From a, um, a woman claiming to be my mother."
"What?" John asked. Monica glanced over at him.
"I was going to tell you earlier but-" John had a terrible feeling in this gut that this may have all been prevented, and he knew Monica was feeling it too. Nevertheless, he nodded.
"It's okay. Keep going."
"What do you mean by claiming Monica?"
"Oh um, I'm adopted. She claimed to be my biological mother. And then just out of the blue she asks if she can meet me. I, I didn't know what else to say but not yet, because I wasn't even sure... Who she was."
"You think this is connected?"
"The woman on the phone...I don't even remember if she gave a name, I thought it was a hoax at first...but she said that she wanted to be a part of her grand-daughter's life. She knew JJ's name and I never mentioned, I never even...confirmed who I was."
"Perhaps she hired a detective," Vincent offered. Monica shook her head.
"No, some things I just know and I knew I couldn't trust that conversation. Um, as well as that, she said she was calling from Texas, but um, there wasn't a long distance tone when I picked up."
"Why would she want to take Jodie? Your daughter opened the door, remember, if we take your word that she would've locked it once you asked her?" John nodded.
"She locked it, and she knew not to open the door to-"
"What if she knew them?"
"She's nine," Monica maintained. "She doesn't know that many people. No one from our families, or none of our friends, would expect her to follow them like that."
"What if one of her friends from school came and asked her to play?"
"Then she knows to leave a note," John answered. "But this is, this is the first time she was left on her own." He ducked his head. "I shouldn't have gone."
"John, you can't start blaming yourself like that. She wasn't taken randomly while one of you had your backs turned. If someone came to this house, asked her to let them in and took her that way, then it was premeditated, and whoever it was would have waited until you all were at your most vulnerable. It's not as though you were being negligent, and she's a smart girl from what Agent Scully has told me. I would ordinarily have no problems with leaving my ten year old at home for five or ten minutes."
"Yeah," he sighed.
"Well here's what I'm going to do, since neither of you have asked me. It's usually one of the first questions out."
"We know the procedure," Monica replied, leaning back into the chair.
"I'm sure you do, so I'm not going to go through it with you. What I am going to do is get the phone records to this place, see if I can locate that call. I'm also not prepared just yet to let the incident with the school slip by. No one at that school, until today, has made any references to any attempts at abduction."
"You'll keep us posted?"
"Of course. If you think of anything, call." They nodded. "I'll see myself out, and I'll call you with anything I get."
When the front door closed, Scully returned from the kitchen, her phone in her hand.
"I should go as well. You'll both be okay?" Monica and John nodded, both sitting on the couch, both in shock. "Call if you need anything," she reminded them, before seeing herself out also.
*
The sun had set long ago and there was still no word. Monica wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing, her judgement of the situation obviously impaired by her emotional involvement. She glanced over at John, who was just...sitting. He'd hardly said two words to her since Scully had left over an hour ago. She could tell he was shutting himself up, that a ten-foot, lead-lined wall had gone up subcutaneously. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to talk to him.
"John," she attempted. He didn't even look over at her. Monica's brow furrowed and she tried again, this time more forcefully, her voice close to cracking. "John."
"Mm." The reply was barely audible.
"Is this what we do John? We just sit here like statues? We don't even talk to each other?"
"What do you want me to do Monica?"
"I want you to talk to me!" she whispered. "Whatever you're going through, I am also. I-"
"How could you be? You never lost a child. You don't know what I'm going through," John whispered. Monica's breath caught in her throat.
"How can you say that John?"
"It's true."
"I need you to talk to me John. I need you to tell me everything will be all right." John turned on her suddenly.
"You know I can't tell you that! You know I don't believe it for a second." He went back to staring into space in silence. Monica watched him for a minute then tried again.
"John."
"Monica just, don't." Monica took a moment to contemplate her next words. Screw it, she thought, frowning furiously.
"No wonder your wife left you," she spat as she stood and headed quickly upstairs. Somewhere a door slammed. Hard.
John couldn't believe it. Monica was his wife, and she wasn't going anywhere, was she? Certainly not in the past tense... But John knew she meant Barbara. Not once since 1993 had Monica referred to Barbara as John's wife. It cut him deeply - the immediate distance she'd just placed between them - but a part of him knew that he'd deserved it. Of course she knew what he felt, that she was feeling what he was. He cast another glance up the stairs, yet before he was able to follow her there was a knock on the door.
"John." John nodded his acknowledgment to Butler. "Is this a bad time?" He must have read John's expression because he hadn't said a word so far.
"Kind of," he replied. Butler nodded.
"Agent Scully called me. I'm going to be helping out and well, I wanted to make sure you were both going...okay."
"We're not...not yet."
"If you-"
"Yeah thanks, we're familiar with all this crap."
"You are?" Butler asked. Oh crap, John thought. He didn't know, he had no idea about Luke. This wasn't the time, however. He shrugged. "Well, tell Mon I dropped by." He went to leave but John stopped him.
"Butler-"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, for helping." Butler nodded, leaving John to find and clear things up with Monica. As he quietly ascended the staircase John wondered what he was going to say to her. How he was going to say it. She still made him nervous, and he took it as a sign that he still sought her eternal affection and approval.
The only door that was closed was to their bedroom. John took a deep breath and knocked twice before trying the handle. It was locked.
"Monica," he called, coughing as he said it to clear his dry throat. "Monica, unlock the door." He was about to persist and ask again when there was a click on the other side and the wooden panel was opened for him. Monica, not one to run and hide, was standing to her full height opposite him, frowning and John knew she was ready to fight. He didn't want that. He wanted her to run to him, to hold onto him, because he needed to hold onto her, he needed to run to her. "Monica I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. It's just, waiting, it's hard work. I... I-" He took a deep breath and Monica noted his frown. "I don't want this to come between us. Whatever happens."
"I never said it would," she replied. "I just... You're right John. I haven't done this before, I haven't felt what I'm feeling now, and I need you because it scares me. I know you don't want to be doing this again, but we can't change it, and I..."
"What?" he called softly, realising that they were still a metre apart, but not moving any closer just yet.
"If I had stayed..."
"Don't do it Mon." He took his chance and walked into the bedroom, and she let him move closer to her, until their chests touched and he could link his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.
"I'm sorry for what I said," she told him. John shook his head.
"I deserved it."
"You never deserved that." She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek. "How long, do you think?" John licked his lips but didn't answer.
"Tell me more about the call," he urged. "Then I have something to tell you."
"Okay," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him to the bed, where she went to sit. However, John pulled back the covers, signalling Monica to look at the clock beside the bed. It was late. They did need to rest. She undid the buttons on her shirt but left it and her sports bra on, while kicking off her jeans, and John did the same as they both slid between the sheets. They lay facing each other and John rested his head on his pillow, while Monica propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.
"Talk to me," he stated.
"There's not much else to tell. I didn't believe her and, perhaps she tried to take her to-"
"Why would someone want Jodie, just because she's our daughter? We have nothing-"
"I wish I had more answers John, but I didn't ask her any real questions about...well about me. I don't know what's going on. Maybe, if she's true, maybe it has something to do with why I was given away-" John ran his fingertips along Monica's free arm, her hand quickly finding a comfortable position against his heart. "And I know it makes no sense. I mean, why would they want her and not me? But...the adoption records are sealed. No one except for the real thing would know, or be able to find out, right?"
"That should be the case, yes," John reassured her. "Gnash did say he'd follow it up. I'm sure he'll find something." Monica nodded, looking into his eyes with startling uncertainty, which John hadn't seen in many years. He allowed himself a small smile, remembering the last time she'd looked at him like that. It had been in the hospital after Jodie was born.
'Yeah, it's just still...overwhelming-'
'You're doing great, beautiful.'
John realised Monica was smiling back at him. It wasn't her usual smile, but it was enough.
"You said you had something to tell me?" she asked. John nodded.
"It's about Jodie." Monica's eyes widened.
"You didn't tell the-"
"No I wanted you to know first. This isn't something the police would..."
"This has something to do with when you told me she thought I was in danger?"
"Yeah," John replied, realising he'd forgotten all about that conversation in the park.
"Are you going to continue?" she asked, just being near him, having him stroke her arm, was brightening her spirits, giving her hope. If they'd passed on anything to that child it was their fight, their equally stubborn natures. Jodie wouldn't give anything up without a fight. John told her about Jodie's two dreams, as she'd described them to him. "So you're saying she's seen a version of reality? But it's not reality? What she sees doesn't happen, but she's on the right track, right?"
"I think so. That's not all. She's seen Kris."
"When he crossed the road in front of us, I-"
"No, since then. Several times. She says sometimes he's walking down the street. She says he was there last week when we were sitting on the lawn with Mulder and Scully." Monica smiled. They'd only been able to find three chairs, so Monica had parked herself on John's lap, ignoring Scully's logical suggestion to retrieve another chair from the dining room.
'No,' she had objected. 'This is the perfect solution!' She had smiled down at John and kissed him deeply.
'Maybe you could come and sit on my lap,' Mulder had intervened. 'So we could actually get some talking done.' Monica had pulled back, John tightening his hold on her hips.
'Actually I think I should stay here for a while,' she laughed, winking over at Scully. They'd all burst out laughing, John included, as Monica had leant back into his chest, continuing with their previous conversation.
"Kris was there?" Monica asked as she came back to reality. John noticed a slight flush on her cheeks and nodded.
"Apparently. She was concerned because none of us had seen him. I told her, I told her I'd talk to you about it, and then we'd discuss it, but that it was okay, we understood." He sighed. "She wanted to know if she was seeing things. Thought she needed her eyes checked! I told her she was perfect." Monica smiled as John shut his eyes momentarily. "She is perfect," he corrected. Monica released herself from her position and lay beside John, staring into his eyes.
"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow," she whispered. John nodded, reaching out and touching her arm, running his fingers across the fan- shaped-bundle of implanted capsules, as she held his gaze. "I think I should get it replaced." She nodded as she spoke, as if convincing herself that it was the right decision. John's expression fell.
"Monica-"
"Now's not the time. Maybe it's just a sign that we, that we shouldn't."
"Monic-"
"John," she cut him off.
"Just wait a week, until this is over."
"What if it's never over? Besides, it's out of date. We couldn't make love without taking that risk-"
"A risk? Monica I thought that was a risk we were willing to take." Monica sighed, rolling onto her back, resting her hands on her stomach and staring up at the ceiling. This time John propped himself up, sliding even closer to her so that he was in her line of vision.
"I thought so too," she whispered. "But you were right. We are too old for this."
"No we're not," John cemented. "We're both as fit and healthy as people ten years younger than us, with obesity levels what they are I would think even perhaps twenty. We've accumulated a couple of extra lines Monica, what's that but proof that we can do this and do it well?" Monica looked over at him and he was warmed by the instant smile she gave him. A real smile, that genuine look of happiness that he'd missed so much just over the past few hours. He hadn't realised how much.
"A week ago I was the one trying to convince you, and I still think you pulled it off better than me!" She laughed as John snuggled next to her.
"Does that mean I just convinced you?" He kissed her shoulder, working his way closer to her neck and brushing her hair up into his hand to move it out of the way. Monica sighed as she felt his lips linger against her jaw.
"John I feel guilty," she spoke, shutting her eyes to block the tears. "What if we lose her?"
"Hey," John soothed. "This isn't the Monica I know. Where's Macho FBI Monica?" He brushed her hair back into place.
"I want her back John. I miss her."
"I miss her too," he replied.
"I just...want her back." Monica began crying and John tugged at her far hip, pulling her into his chest where she buried her head, sobbing. He knew she was thinking about Luke, about how hard this could really be if things didn't get better soon. This was the first time she'd really cried, and he knew she needed it. It reminded him instantly of Barbara, just as distraught. The only difference was, this time he wasn't afraid to let a few tears slip.
*
Both Monica and John were up at the crack of dawn, having slept on and off during the previous night.
"This is the most important day," Monica stated as she leant against the fridge.
"Don't have to tell me that," John replied, checking his watch. The digital face flicked to 8.01 and almost immediately the telephone rang. Monica reached out and snapped it up.
"Reyes," she answered without thinking. John raised his eyebrows and when Monica realised what she'd said, she looked over at him in shock. He shrugged as she went back to her conversation. "No, Dana, it was a slip of the tongue... I guess I haven't been this stressed since I was a Reyes. It's not early we've been up for hours." Monica covered the mouthpiece and glanced over at John. "That's what she thought," she whispered and was glad to see him manage a smile. "We're okay," she resumed. "Mmhmm...We'll have to wait and see, I suppose. Thankyou so much Dana. Give William a kiss for me." She smirked. "And Mulder too, okay. I'll let you know. Bye." She hung up and leant back against the fridge. John was leaning opposite her, against the bench.
Within the hour they'd move to sit together on the couch and were making a valid attempt to watch the morning news show when there was a knock on the door. Monica patted John's thigh as she stood to get it, and he watched intently from his place on the couch.
"Good morning Monica."
"Vince," she sighed, pulling the door open. "Come in."
"You better have good news," John spoke as he switched off the television and Monica and Vincent joined him.
"I do I hope," Vince replied, watching as John and Monica both relaxed visibly, John reaching over and squeezing Monica's thigh. "Based on what you told us Monica, we've identified that call. You were right that it wasn't from Texas. The number is a room extension of a motel about a thirty- minute drive from here. Now I went there last night..." He drifted off and looked from one parent to the other. "And I spoke to the man occupying the room."
"Man?" John asked. Vincent nodded, pulling a large yellow envelope that had been folded in half from his pocket.
"His name is Miles Stafford. He's a private investigator." He handed the envelope to Monica. "This is what he gave me." Monica opened the envelope, which wasn't sealed, and removed several photocopied documents, photocopies of written notes about their movements, and several photographs of herself, John and Jodie.
"He's a PI," she stated suspiciously, glancing up at Vincent.
"Yes he is. He told me he was hired by a Ms Regina Regali, of Austin, Texas."
"Regali," Monica asked, her eyes widening. Vincent nodded. "Did she have a brother, do you know?"
"She's an only child," Vince replied, not sure where she was going with this. John nodded.
"So was he, Monica."
"What if they're..." she drifted off, realising that Vincent was giving them both a strange look. They'd talk about it later. For now, they listened to what he had to say.
"I phoned Ms Regali and pulled her record. She confirms everything on it and faxed me details of her dealings with Stafford. I haven't managed to get my hands on your adoption papers yet, but Ms Regali emailed me a scan of what little paperwork she had on it after I spoke with her, and it looks authentic." He took a deep breath. "I tend to believe she is genuinely interested in contacting you, Monica, and she seemed distressed when I told her of the situation-" Monica nodded.
"Don't answer this literally Vince cos you know what I mean," John cut in. "But how is this good news?"
"It narrows down our suspect list," he answered. "We're still trying to identify the man from the school. We've got that sketch Monica helped put together circulating around as many stations as we can, but nothing came up on the prints."
"This is just a suggestion," Monica began. "But did you, uh, show Ms Regali the picture?"
"Now why would I do that?" Vince asked.
"I, uh, it could be a possibility, thinking logically and all. There's still no motive, remember?"
"Oh, I remember. We've also got a couple of guys, your partner included Monica, looking over old cases. You two were on the X Files right?"
"That's finished," John answered. "There's no one there a decade later. It's long gone."
"Okay. I'm going to be honest with you: since no demands have come through, there's a good chance that there's something else going on, and it might not be very good. You got that?"
"Yeah, we got it," John mumbled. Monica nodded, staring down at a picture of herself and Jodie outside Jodie's school. Vincent was busy watching Monica, considering his next move. It was always much harder to conduct these investigations when the parents were cops. They just weren't naïve enough, there was no way you could even mildly sugar coat the truth. He pulled out his mobile phone and pressed a couple of buttons.
"Yeah Hans, can you fax our man to Regali? With my mobile number on the top I need her to call me when she gets it... Yeah that sounds right. Thanks partner." John and Monica were both watching him curiously. "Well if something turns up there's no point in me leaving and coming all the way back again."
"You could call us," John stated obviously. "No special treatment you know."
"Narr, not at all. I just can't be bothered to get up. You know how it is. Working all day all night, a comfy chair and you're gone." He took a moment to look around. "You do have a nice house here."
"Thankyou," Monica replied, glancing around with him. It was a bit of a mess, she realised. Who cares if the mirror sits right or not, she found herself thinking, there are more important things.
While the room was silent, it seemed to grow even more so when Vincent's mobile rang. He snapped it up quickly.
"Gnash here," he answered. "Thanks for getting back to me Ms Regali. Any luck with that face? I can't tell you that. At the moment we're just trying to identify him...Ahuh...ah...huh. Is this a long story? Okay well I'm not at the office, and I'm going to go there now. I'll call you back when I get there. Is that appropriate? ...Good, I'll speak with you soon. Bye." He hung up and stood up at the same time. "We've got a possible ID. I'm going to go and I'll call you as soon as anything's confirmed."
"Who?" John asked, amazed that Monica had managed to connect some invisible dots across several states, when everybody else was yet to consider the possibility.
"Uh...This isn't official yet- I haven't got a name, just a summary of the full story."
"She knows him," Monica stated. "Come on Vince, you can't keep us in the dark."
"I'm well aware of that. She says she knows him, and I confirmed that it was possible he may have been involved, and I cut her off before she could continue. I promise I will call you."
"That's what they all say," Monica mused as she showed him out, waiting as Mulder and Scully both hopped out of their car and walked towards her.
"Spooky," she heard Vince nod in hello to Mulder. "Morticia."
"Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na Gnash-man," Scully replied dryly. Vince waved them off as he found his own car and hopped in.
"He's here early," Mulder commented as Monica let them in.
"We're getting the special treatment I think," she replied.
"FBI looks after it's own," Scully answered. "As with everything."
"What was with the Morticia?"
"He thinks we have a similar personality. Go figure."
"Morning Dana, Mulder," John called as they entered the living room. "Where's William?"
"Next door at his friend's house for the day," Scully answered, taking a seat where Gnash had been minutes beforehand. "So what did he want? Anything?"
*
An hour later Monica and Dana were sitting together on the couch talking, while John and Mulder were sitting outside, most probably doing the same thing, when the phone rang. Monica heard the back door swing open as John and Mulder returned, and she reached over and picked it up.
"Monica Doggett...Jane, hi-" She glanced over at John, who's brow creased as he stepped closer to her. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "How did you- Hang on." She stood and walked to the window, pulling the loose curtains aside and peering out. "Oh my God," she said, still into the receiver. "No, no calls. It's a silent number..." Monica drifted off as John joined her at the window, spying the media truck parked outside.
"Shit," he whispered, pulling out his mobile and dialling.
"Oh Jane of course we were going to tell you-"
"Gnash who the hell tipped off the press?" John screamed simultaneously into his phone.
"No, they're wrong it's only been seventeen hours. I don't know where they got it from. No, we haven't spoken to them. It's a silent number, it's only on our records-" Monica sighed.
"I want them out of here right now... Screw freedom of the press!" John hung up and turned to Monica.
"Yes that's John, Jane. We don't want cameras here. We don't want a story... Oh no, please don't come down. Everything's okay- We're sorry. It's only been a little while, it's still early and we-" She stopped as John whispered in her ear.
"He's going to get them away, call them to a brief statement at the station." Monica nodded, approving, and handed the phone to John. "Mum," he greeted solemnly. "You wanna put dad on the extension?"
Monica looked out the window again to see the van packing up. She silently thanked Vincent and turned back to face Mulder and Scully. John had walked upstairs so that he could continue the conversation in private.
*
Category: DRR Rating: I'm rating it R, just because it contains adult themes, medium level language, low level violence and one very tiny sex scene. Notes at Part One and final part
Scully walked freely into the house hours later, the front door of which was wide open, and immediately spotted Monica and John sitting silently beside each other on the couch. Monica looked up first.
"Dana," she stated. Scully took a seat.
"Gnash has just arrived as well," she stated. Monica nodded, remembering Vincent from the other week at Quantico. It seemed so long ago. "We'll find her, she can't have gone far."
"You're forgetting Dana," John finally spoke. "We've done this before. Don't even bother with the hope bullshit." He stood and walked upstairs and Monica looked down at her clasped hands. She watched as Scully covered them with her own and they locked eyes.
"Go up to him," she whispered. "Vince will find you in due time." Monica nodded and stood. Scully watched her slowly walk over to the stairs, yet as soon as her foot touched the first, something spurred her forward and she raced up them as fast as she could.
She found John sitting on their bed and he looked up hearing her thunderous footsteps. Monica stopped in the doorway, silently asking permission to enter and to be with him. John blinked and stretched out a hand. She walked up and sat facing him as he took her hand.
"We will find her," she repeated softly.
"That's what I'm afraid of," John replied, looking up at her.
"Oh John," Monica whispered, wrapping her arms around him, John's own hands running up and down her back, pulling her as close to him as he could.
"I don't think I can do this again, Monica," he choked as they rested their foreheads together. Monica's hands reached up and cupped the sides of his face.
"We can John. We can do this, you hear me?" She brushed her lips across his cheek. "I love you." John tightened his grip on her as she rested her head against his shoulder.
"I love you too," he whispered into her hair, feeling a few tears running against his neck. "Alive Mon," he added, nudging her back to face him as he ran a ringer along the fading bruise on her face. "We'll find her alive, you hear me? It's only been a few hours. Don't cry." Monica shook her head and ran a hand down her cheek as a knock came at the door.
Vincent Gnash appeared at the threshold, looking apologetic, sympathetic.
"John, Monica."
*
They took a seat in the living room and Monica took the opportunity to look around. It had mostly cleared out. Scully was in the kitchen on her phone, speaking quietly to someone or other. Monica turned her attention back to Vincent as he began to speak.
"Did you lock the front door on your way out John?"
"Uh, I told her to lock it after me."
"How long were you gone for?"
"Five, ten minutes," he replied.
"Have you received any threats lately?"
"No," Monica replied. Vince narrowed his eyes at her.
"Is that a bruise Monica?" Monica's hand went to the fresh scar on her right eye and she nodded.
"Yeah."
"And how'd you get that?" His glance veered more towards John and Monica immediately stepped in.
"No way Vince. Last week at JJ's school-"
"Oh, guys sorry I forgot." John gripped Monica's hand tighter.
"It's okay," she whispered.
"You think it's connected?" Vince asked.
"Connected?" Monica shook her head. "No, why would it be-"
"Wasn't there some reason to think he was looking for a-" Monica shook her head.
"No, it wasn't JJ. It, it couldn't be. Why would he want to..." she drifted off and bit her bottom lip. John's hand moved to her back and he squeezed gently.
"Mon?"
"Um..." She looked up at John, her eyes wide, and held his gaze. "There might be something." She looked back over at Vince.
"Take your time Monica."
"A couple of days before the incident at JJ's school, I got a call-"
"To the house?"
"Yes. From a, um, a woman claiming to be my mother."
"What?" John asked. Monica glanced over at him.
"I was going to tell you earlier but-" John had a terrible feeling in this gut that this may have all been prevented, and he knew Monica was feeling it too. Nevertheless, he nodded.
"It's okay. Keep going."
"What do you mean by claiming Monica?"
"Oh um, I'm adopted. She claimed to be my biological mother. And then just out of the blue she asks if she can meet me. I, I didn't know what else to say but not yet, because I wasn't even sure... Who she was."
"You think this is connected?"
"The woman on the phone...I don't even remember if she gave a name, I thought it was a hoax at first...but she said that she wanted to be a part of her grand-daughter's life. She knew JJ's name and I never mentioned, I never even...confirmed who I was."
"Perhaps she hired a detective," Vincent offered. Monica shook her head.
"No, some things I just know and I knew I couldn't trust that conversation. Um, as well as that, she said she was calling from Texas, but um, there wasn't a long distance tone when I picked up."
"Why would she want to take Jodie? Your daughter opened the door, remember, if we take your word that she would've locked it once you asked her?" John nodded.
"She locked it, and she knew not to open the door to-"
"What if she knew them?"
"She's nine," Monica maintained. "She doesn't know that many people. No one from our families, or none of our friends, would expect her to follow them like that."
"What if one of her friends from school came and asked her to play?"
"Then she knows to leave a note," John answered. "But this is, this is the first time she was left on her own." He ducked his head. "I shouldn't have gone."
"John, you can't start blaming yourself like that. She wasn't taken randomly while one of you had your backs turned. If someone came to this house, asked her to let them in and took her that way, then it was premeditated, and whoever it was would have waited until you all were at your most vulnerable. It's not as though you were being negligent, and she's a smart girl from what Agent Scully has told me. I would ordinarily have no problems with leaving my ten year old at home for five or ten minutes."
"Yeah," he sighed.
"Well here's what I'm going to do, since neither of you have asked me. It's usually one of the first questions out."
"We know the procedure," Monica replied, leaning back into the chair.
"I'm sure you do, so I'm not going to go through it with you. What I am going to do is get the phone records to this place, see if I can locate that call. I'm also not prepared just yet to let the incident with the school slip by. No one at that school, until today, has made any references to any attempts at abduction."
"You'll keep us posted?"
"Of course. If you think of anything, call." They nodded. "I'll see myself out, and I'll call you with anything I get."
When the front door closed, Scully returned from the kitchen, her phone in her hand.
"I should go as well. You'll both be okay?" Monica and John nodded, both sitting on the couch, both in shock. "Call if you need anything," she reminded them, before seeing herself out also.
*
The sun had set long ago and there was still no word. Monica wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing, her judgement of the situation obviously impaired by her emotional involvement. She glanced over at John, who was just...sitting. He'd hardly said two words to her since Scully had left over an hour ago. She could tell he was shutting himself up, that a ten-foot, lead-lined wall had gone up subcutaneously. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to talk to him.
"John," she attempted. He didn't even look over at her. Monica's brow furrowed and she tried again, this time more forcefully, her voice close to cracking. "John."
"Mm." The reply was barely audible.
"Is this what we do John? We just sit here like statues? We don't even talk to each other?"
"What do you want me to do Monica?"
"I want you to talk to me!" she whispered. "Whatever you're going through, I am also. I-"
"How could you be? You never lost a child. You don't know what I'm going through," John whispered. Monica's breath caught in her throat.
"How can you say that John?"
"It's true."
"I need you to talk to me John. I need you to tell me everything will be all right." John turned on her suddenly.
"You know I can't tell you that! You know I don't believe it for a second." He went back to staring into space in silence. Monica watched him for a minute then tried again.
"John."
"Monica just, don't." Monica took a moment to contemplate her next words. Screw it, she thought, frowning furiously.
"No wonder your wife left you," she spat as she stood and headed quickly upstairs. Somewhere a door slammed. Hard.
John couldn't believe it. Monica was his wife, and she wasn't going anywhere, was she? Certainly not in the past tense... But John knew she meant Barbara. Not once since 1993 had Monica referred to Barbara as John's wife. It cut him deeply - the immediate distance she'd just placed between them - but a part of him knew that he'd deserved it. Of course she knew what he felt, that she was feeling what he was. He cast another glance up the stairs, yet before he was able to follow her there was a knock on the door.
"John." John nodded his acknowledgment to Butler. "Is this a bad time?" He must have read John's expression because he hadn't said a word so far.
"Kind of," he replied. Butler nodded.
"Agent Scully called me. I'm going to be helping out and well, I wanted to make sure you were both going...okay."
"We're not...not yet."
"If you-"
"Yeah thanks, we're familiar with all this crap."
"You are?" Butler asked. Oh crap, John thought. He didn't know, he had no idea about Luke. This wasn't the time, however. He shrugged. "Well, tell Mon I dropped by." He went to leave but John stopped him.
"Butler-"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, for helping." Butler nodded, leaving John to find and clear things up with Monica. As he quietly ascended the staircase John wondered what he was going to say to her. How he was going to say it. She still made him nervous, and he took it as a sign that he still sought her eternal affection and approval.
The only door that was closed was to their bedroom. John took a deep breath and knocked twice before trying the handle. It was locked.
"Monica," he called, coughing as he said it to clear his dry throat. "Monica, unlock the door." He was about to persist and ask again when there was a click on the other side and the wooden panel was opened for him. Monica, not one to run and hide, was standing to her full height opposite him, frowning and John knew she was ready to fight. He didn't want that. He wanted her to run to him, to hold onto him, because he needed to hold onto her, he needed to run to her. "Monica I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. It's just, waiting, it's hard work. I... I-" He took a deep breath and Monica noted his frown. "I don't want this to come between us. Whatever happens."
"I never said it would," she replied. "I just... You're right John. I haven't done this before, I haven't felt what I'm feeling now, and I need you because it scares me. I know you don't want to be doing this again, but we can't change it, and I..."
"What?" he called softly, realising that they were still a metre apart, but not moving any closer just yet.
"If I had stayed..."
"Don't do it Mon." He took his chance and walked into the bedroom, and she let him move closer to her, until their chests touched and he could link his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.
"I'm sorry for what I said," she told him. John shook his head.
"I deserved it."
"You never deserved that." She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek. "How long, do you think?" John licked his lips but didn't answer.
"Tell me more about the call," he urged. "Then I have something to tell you."
"Okay," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him to the bed, where she went to sit. However, John pulled back the covers, signalling Monica to look at the clock beside the bed. It was late. They did need to rest. She undid the buttons on her shirt but left it and her sports bra on, while kicking off her jeans, and John did the same as they both slid between the sheets. They lay facing each other and John rested his head on his pillow, while Monica propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.
"Talk to me," he stated.
"There's not much else to tell. I didn't believe her and, perhaps she tried to take her to-"
"Why would someone want Jodie, just because she's our daughter? We have nothing-"
"I wish I had more answers John, but I didn't ask her any real questions about...well about me. I don't know what's going on. Maybe, if she's true, maybe it has something to do with why I was given away-" John ran his fingertips along Monica's free arm, her hand quickly finding a comfortable position against his heart. "And I know it makes no sense. I mean, why would they want her and not me? But...the adoption records are sealed. No one except for the real thing would know, or be able to find out, right?"
"That should be the case, yes," John reassured her. "Gnash did say he'd follow it up. I'm sure he'll find something." Monica nodded, looking into his eyes with startling uncertainty, which John hadn't seen in many years. He allowed himself a small smile, remembering the last time she'd looked at him like that. It had been in the hospital after Jodie was born.
'Yeah, it's just still...overwhelming-'
'You're doing great, beautiful.'
John realised Monica was smiling back at him. It wasn't her usual smile, but it was enough.
"You said you had something to tell me?" she asked. John nodded.
"It's about Jodie." Monica's eyes widened.
"You didn't tell the-"
"No I wanted you to know first. This isn't something the police would..."
"This has something to do with when you told me she thought I was in danger?"
"Yeah," John replied, realising he'd forgotten all about that conversation in the park.
"Are you going to continue?" she asked, just being near him, having him stroke her arm, was brightening her spirits, giving her hope. If they'd passed on anything to that child it was their fight, their equally stubborn natures. Jodie wouldn't give anything up without a fight. John told her about Jodie's two dreams, as she'd described them to him. "So you're saying she's seen a version of reality? But it's not reality? What she sees doesn't happen, but she's on the right track, right?"
"I think so. That's not all. She's seen Kris."
"When he crossed the road in front of us, I-"
"No, since then. Several times. She says sometimes he's walking down the street. She says he was there last week when we were sitting on the lawn with Mulder and Scully." Monica smiled. They'd only been able to find three chairs, so Monica had parked herself on John's lap, ignoring Scully's logical suggestion to retrieve another chair from the dining room.
'No,' she had objected. 'This is the perfect solution!' She had smiled down at John and kissed him deeply.
'Maybe you could come and sit on my lap,' Mulder had intervened. 'So we could actually get some talking done.' Monica had pulled back, John tightening his hold on her hips.
'Actually I think I should stay here for a while,' she laughed, winking over at Scully. They'd all burst out laughing, John included, as Monica had leant back into his chest, continuing with their previous conversation.
"Kris was there?" Monica asked as she came back to reality. John noticed a slight flush on her cheeks and nodded.
"Apparently. She was concerned because none of us had seen him. I told her, I told her I'd talk to you about it, and then we'd discuss it, but that it was okay, we understood." He sighed. "She wanted to know if she was seeing things. Thought she needed her eyes checked! I told her she was perfect." Monica smiled as John shut his eyes momentarily. "She is perfect," he corrected. Monica released herself from her position and lay beside John, staring into his eyes.
"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow," she whispered. John nodded, reaching out and touching her arm, running his fingers across the fan- shaped-bundle of implanted capsules, as she held his gaze. "I think I should get it replaced." She nodded as she spoke, as if convincing herself that it was the right decision. John's expression fell.
"Monica-"
"Now's not the time. Maybe it's just a sign that we, that we shouldn't."
"Monic-"
"John," she cut him off.
"Just wait a week, until this is over."
"What if it's never over? Besides, it's out of date. We couldn't make love without taking that risk-"
"A risk? Monica I thought that was a risk we were willing to take." Monica sighed, rolling onto her back, resting her hands on her stomach and staring up at the ceiling. This time John propped himself up, sliding even closer to her so that he was in her line of vision.
"I thought so too," she whispered. "But you were right. We are too old for this."
"No we're not," John cemented. "We're both as fit and healthy as people ten years younger than us, with obesity levels what they are I would think even perhaps twenty. We've accumulated a couple of extra lines Monica, what's that but proof that we can do this and do it well?" Monica looked over at him and he was warmed by the instant smile she gave him. A real smile, that genuine look of happiness that he'd missed so much just over the past few hours. He hadn't realised how much.
"A week ago I was the one trying to convince you, and I still think you pulled it off better than me!" She laughed as John snuggled next to her.
"Does that mean I just convinced you?" He kissed her shoulder, working his way closer to her neck and brushing her hair up into his hand to move it out of the way. Monica sighed as she felt his lips linger against her jaw.
"John I feel guilty," she spoke, shutting her eyes to block the tears. "What if we lose her?"
"Hey," John soothed. "This isn't the Monica I know. Where's Macho FBI Monica?" He brushed her hair back into place.
"I want her back John. I miss her."
"I miss her too," he replied.
"I just...want her back." Monica began crying and John tugged at her far hip, pulling her into his chest where she buried her head, sobbing. He knew she was thinking about Luke, about how hard this could really be if things didn't get better soon. This was the first time she'd really cried, and he knew she needed it. It reminded him instantly of Barbara, just as distraught. The only difference was, this time he wasn't afraid to let a few tears slip.
*
Both Monica and John were up at the crack of dawn, having slept on and off during the previous night.
"This is the most important day," Monica stated as she leant against the fridge.
"Don't have to tell me that," John replied, checking his watch. The digital face flicked to 8.01 and almost immediately the telephone rang. Monica reached out and snapped it up.
"Reyes," she answered without thinking. John raised his eyebrows and when Monica realised what she'd said, she looked over at him in shock. He shrugged as she went back to her conversation. "No, Dana, it was a slip of the tongue... I guess I haven't been this stressed since I was a Reyes. It's not early we've been up for hours." Monica covered the mouthpiece and glanced over at John. "That's what she thought," she whispered and was glad to see him manage a smile. "We're okay," she resumed. "Mmhmm...We'll have to wait and see, I suppose. Thankyou so much Dana. Give William a kiss for me." She smirked. "And Mulder too, okay. I'll let you know. Bye." She hung up and leant back against the fridge. John was leaning opposite her, against the bench.
Within the hour they'd move to sit together on the couch and were making a valid attempt to watch the morning news show when there was a knock on the door. Monica patted John's thigh as she stood to get it, and he watched intently from his place on the couch.
"Good morning Monica."
"Vince," she sighed, pulling the door open. "Come in."
"You better have good news," John spoke as he switched off the television and Monica and Vincent joined him.
"I do I hope," Vince replied, watching as John and Monica both relaxed visibly, John reaching over and squeezing Monica's thigh. "Based on what you told us Monica, we've identified that call. You were right that it wasn't from Texas. The number is a room extension of a motel about a thirty- minute drive from here. Now I went there last night..." He drifted off and looked from one parent to the other. "And I spoke to the man occupying the room."
"Man?" John asked. Vincent nodded, pulling a large yellow envelope that had been folded in half from his pocket.
"His name is Miles Stafford. He's a private investigator." He handed the envelope to Monica. "This is what he gave me." Monica opened the envelope, which wasn't sealed, and removed several photocopied documents, photocopies of written notes about their movements, and several photographs of herself, John and Jodie.
"He's a PI," she stated suspiciously, glancing up at Vincent.
"Yes he is. He told me he was hired by a Ms Regina Regali, of Austin, Texas."
"Regali," Monica asked, her eyes widening. Vincent nodded. "Did she have a brother, do you know?"
"She's an only child," Vince replied, not sure where she was going with this. John nodded.
"So was he, Monica."
"What if they're..." she drifted off, realising that Vincent was giving them both a strange look. They'd talk about it later. For now, they listened to what he had to say.
"I phoned Ms Regali and pulled her record. She confirms everything on it and faxed me details of her dealings with Stafford. I haven't managed to get my hands on your adoption papers yet, but Ms Regali emailed me a scan of what little paperwork she had on it after I spoke with her, and it looks authentic." He took a deep breath. "I tend to believe she is genuinely interested in contacting you, Monica, and she seemed distressed when I told her of the situation-" Monica nodded.
"Don't answer this literally Vince cos you know what I mean," John cut in. "But how is this good news?"
"It narrows down our suspect list," he answered. "We're still trying to identify the man from the school. We've got that sketch Monica helped put together circulating around as many stations as we can, but nothing came up on the prints."
"This is just a suggestion," Monica began. "But did you, uh, show Ms Regali the picture?"
"Now why would I do that?" Vince asked.
"I, uh, it could be a possibility, thinking logically and all. There's still no motive, remember?"
"Oh, I remember. We've also got a couple of guys, your partner included Monica, looking over old cases. You two were on the X Files right?"
"That's finished," John answered. "There's no one there a decade later. It's long gone."
"Okay. I'm going to be honest with you: since no demands have come through, there's a good chance that there's something else going on, and it might not be very good. You got that?"
"Yeah, we got it," John mumbled. Monica nodded, staring down at a picture of herself and Jodie outside Jodie's school. Vincent was busy watching Monica, considering his next move. It was always much harder to conduct these investigations when the parents were cops. They just weren't naïve enough, there was no way you could even mildly sugar coat the truth. He pulled out his mobile phone and pressed a couple of buttons.
"Yeah Hans, can you fax our man to Regali? With my mobile number on the top I need her to call me when she gets it... Yeah that sounds right. Thanks partner." John and Monica were both watching him curiously. "Well if something turns up there's no point in me leaving and coming all the way back again."
"You could call us," John stated obviously. "No special treatment you know."
"Narr, not at all. I just can't be bothered to get up. You know how it is. Working all day all night, a comfy chair and you're gone." He took a moment to look around. "You do have a nice house here."
"Thankyou," Monica replied, glancing around with him. It was a bit of a mess, she realised. Who cares if the mirror sits right or not, she found herself thinking, there are more important things.
While the room was silent, it seemed to grow even more so when Vincent's mobile rang. He snapped it up quickly.
"Gnash here," he answered. "Thanks for getting back to me Ms Regali. Any luck with that face? I can't tell you that. At the moment we're just trying to identify him...Ahuh...ah...huh. Is this a long story? Okay well I'm not at the office, and I'm going to go there now. I'll call you back when I get there. Is that appropriate? ...Good, I'll speak with you soon. Bye." He hung up and stood up at the same time. "We've got a possible ID. I'm going to go and I'll call you as soon as anything's confirmed."
"Who?" John asked, amazed that Monica had managed to connect some invisible dots across several states, when everybody else was yet to consider the possibility.
"Uh...This isn't official yet- I haven't got a name, just a summary of the full story."
"She knows him," Monica stated. "Come on Vince, you can't keep us in the dark."
"I'm well aware of that. She says she knows him, and I confirmed that it was possible he may have been involved, and I cut her off before she could continue. I promise I will call you."
"That's what they all say," Monica mused as she showed him out, waiting as Mulder and Scully both hopped out of their car and walked towards her.
"Spooky," she heard Vince nod in hello to Mulder. "Morticia."
"Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na Gnash-man," Scully replied dryly. Vince waved them off as he found his own car and hopped in.
"He's here early," Mulder commented as Monica let them in.
"We're getting the special treatment I think," she replied.
"FBI looks after it's own," Scully answered. "As with everything."
"What was with the Morticia?"
"He thinks we have a similar personality. Go figure."
"Morning Dana, Mulder," John called as they entered the living room. "Where's William?"
"Next door at his friend's house for the day," Scully answered, taking a seat where Gnash had been minutes beforehand. "So what did he want? Anything?"
*
An hour later Monica and Dana were sitting together on the couch talking, while John and Mulder were sitting outside, most probably doing the same thing, when the phone rang. Monica heard the back door swing open as John and Mulder returned, and she reached over and picked it up.
"Monica Doggett...Jane, hi-" She glanced over at John, who's brow creased as he stepped closer to her. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "How did you- Hang on." She stood and walked to the window, pulling the loose curtains aside and peering out. "Oh my God," she said, still into the receiver. "No, no calls. It's a silent number..." Monica drifted off as John joined her at the window, spying the media truck parked outside.
"Shit," he whispered, pulling out his mobile and dialling.
"Oh Jane of course we were going to tell you-"
"Gnash who the hell tipped off the press?" John screamed simultaneously into his phone.
"No, they're wrong it's only been seventeen hours. I don't know where they got it from. No, we haven't spoken to them. It's a silent number, it's only on our records-" Monica sighed.
"I want them out of here right now... Screw freedom of the press!" John hung up and turned to Monica.
"Yes that's John, Jane. We don't want cameras here. We don't want a story... Oh no, please don't come down. Everything's okay- We're sorry. It's only been a little while, it's still early and we-" She stopped as John whispered in her ear.
"He's going to get them away, call them to a brief statement at the station." Monica nodded, approving, and handed the phone to John. "Mum," he greeted solemnly. "You wanna put dad on the extension?"
Monica looked out the window again to see the van packing up. She silently thanked Vincent and turned back to face Mulder and Scully. John had walked upstairs so that he could continue the conversation in private.
*