I felt her hand on mine, warm against my cool skin. I smiled automatically, the grin dimming only when I opened my eyes and remembered the previous day's events. "Monica," I kept my voice low to avoid waking William. Sitting up slowly, I managed another smile for her. "How do you feel?"
"Is William all right?" she asked, ignoring my question.
"He's fine," I said, pointing to the cot. "He's right next to you."
She turned her head with a relieved sigh. "I thought he'd been hurt."
"No," I said. "Nothin' short of a miracle, the bullet missin' him like it did."
Nodding, Monica's eyes slipped shut. "Mon?" I murmured, climbing off the cot and darting around the hospital bed. I sank down next to her, covering her cheek with my hand. "Monica," I said more firmly. She opened her eyes again and I saw in them how tired she was. "You had me worried for a second," I told her. "I thought you were gonna go back under."
"Nah," she reassured me in a weak voice. "I'm just gonna go to sleep, okay?"
"Okay," I said, caressing her cheek again. I leaned over, brushing a kiss against her temple. Soon I heard her breathing even out and I knew she was asleep. I gathered William up and carried him off to the nurse's station, looking around for the nurse who'd been so helpful the day before, Isabel. When I saw her, I gave my best smile. "She's awake," I said, hearing the relief in my own voice.
Isabel grinned. "I told you to have hope, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," I acknowledged, before getting to the business at hand. "I was hoping you could help me with William like you did yesterday." The sleepy baby brightened as he saw his playmate.
"I can do better than that." Isabel turned toward the waiting area. "Blanca!" A young girl of about fifteen came bounding up. "Blanca, this is Mr. Doggett. Mr. Doggett, my daughter Blanca. It is Saturday, so she has no school today. If you like, she can watch your son. She has three little brothers, so she knows what to do."
"My godson," I finally corrected her mistake. "And that would be wonderful. Thank you, Blanca," I said, putting the baby on the floor. The girl smiled up at me and for a second, I was floored. She had the same hazel eyes as Monica, and the same young features she'd had when I first met her. "Thank you," I said again, waving at William as I headed down the hall toward Monica's room.
Slipping in, I stood behind the closed door for a moment. I watched her sleep, thanking whoever was watching out for us for her safe return. Settling in the chair by the bed, I ran my hand over Monica's side lightly. I wanted to make sure I hadn't been dreaming, that she really was going to be all right. Monica stirred slightly and I jerked my hand away. I didn't want to wake her, just to reassure myself. When I was sure she was still sleeping, I leaned over, sliding my hand under the gentle weight of Monica's. "Mon," I said softly. "I meant what I said last night. I am what I am 'cause of you. I don't know what I'd do without you." I felt my resolve start to crumble. Now that I knew Monica would live, I let all my fear and guilt pour out in a stream of tears coursing down my face. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered crying like this. Yeah, the day I scattered Luke's ashes. Only a few months ago, it seemed like years. So much had happened since. Monica had held me that night and let me cry, and she never thought me less of a man for doing it. I laid my head on the bed next to her, crying quietly for a minute.
I had just admonished myself, *That's enough, stop it,* when I felt her hand on my shoulder, and I looked up. Monica had rolled over to face me and she smiled sleepily. "It's okay," she said. "Cry if you want to."
I raised my head, shaking it firmly. "No. I was just tired."
"It's okay," Monica reiterated. "I heard what you said, and you know I love you. It's okay to be scared of losing me. It's actually kind of sweet." Her smiled faded as she added, "I'm terrified to even think about losing you."
"I failed you," I muttered miserably, scrubbing at my eyes. "I never wanted to disappoint you and that's all I've done."
"No way!" Monica's voice rang out firmly in the small hospital room. "John," she said, in a voice that forced me to meet her eyes, "you have *never* disappointed me. You had no way of protecting me in March." *How'd you know I was thinkin' about your accident again?* She always could read my mind. "And you had no way of stopping what happened yesterday," Monica chided me. "You're only going to drive yourself crazy with guilt, so can it, buster."
I almost laughed at the way she simplified everything. "Okay," I said, "I'll try."
"I said stop it. Which part of that don't you understand, Agent Doggett?" Now she was teasing me.
"All of it," I teased back. "Maybe you better find another way of explaining it, Agent Reyes."
She crooked her finger playfully. "Come closer and I will." Our lips met in a long, tender kiss. As I drew away, I brushed my hand over her face. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Me, too."
"You feelin' well enough to talk about what we're gonna do?" I ventured.
"Yeah." Monica shifted again, getting comfortable despite her newly-stitched wound. "Any ideas? We can't go back to DC now. Everyone'll be looking for us."
"I've been thinkin' about that. Monica, why do you suppose they shot you and not me? I mean, if they thought we were Mulder and Scully, what's the point of killing her and not him?"
Monica thought a moment, then offered, "Maybe they thought he'd give up if she were dead?"
I shook my head. "Maybe, but what if they were trying to get 'im to cook his own goose?"
"How do you mean?" Monica queried.
"Maybe they thought they'd kill Scully and the baby, that way Mulder'd hafta go back to DC and confront them, walkin' right into a trap. He'd serve himself up on a platter to 'em."
"You could be right,"
Monica agreed. "So what do we do?"
* * *
We decided to wait a few days for everything to settle down before we made our move. By that time, Monica was almost back to her old self and ready to be released from the hospital. Thanking Isabel and her daughter again for all their help, we took William and headed out, though we had no destination in mind yet, other than some place innocuous.
We made a stop at a grocery store and stocked up on the necessities: nonperishable food, extra clothes for all three of us, baby supplies and a few toys for William. I checked us into a motel and Monica got to work. I'd forgotten about the laptop she'd bought from Maria, the daughter of our host family back in Ciudad Juarez. Monica had tucked it in one of the saddlebags on the bike and it completely slipped my mind. I don't know where she picked up the skill, but I swear that woman's a whiz on a computer. *She probably took lessons from that nut, Langley,* I thought.
I was sitting on the floor, rolling a ball to the baby, marveling again at our odd roles. We were his godparents, his guardians and yet, we were essentially using the kid as bait.
"No frickin' way!" Monica was looking down at me, an expression of surprise matching her exclamation. "Jimmy found a way to e-mail us without being traced. I mean, supposedly it's not that hard for a real hacker to do, but he was never able to do it until now. He encoded it, anyway, of course, but ---"
"Monica," I cut her off, "point, please?" Sometimes she needed me to stop her from rambling. And sometimes I needed her to figuratively smack me upside the head to get me to talk. It all sifts out in the end.
"Yeah, sorry. He says Mulder and Scully got to Florence without any trouble. They headed off to Brindisi, they ought to be there now, judging by the date on Jimmy's e-mail."
"Good. Now how do we get in touch with them?" I asked. William started to whine because I'd abandoned our game. "In a sec," I told him firmly, not taking my eyes off Monica, and he quieted down.
"I'll reply to Jimmy and have him forward the details on to them." Monica smiled down at William, who'd started fussing again. "I'll come play with you in a second." She shifted in the chair, facing the computer again and typed a mile a minute. I watched Monica as she worked, amazed at yet another of her talents. The woman had no end to what she could do, it seemed. William began to whine again but I paid no attention. Never worked for Luke, sure wouldn't work for Junior Mulder here. I bit back a comment. Knowing Monica's fondness for the guy, I don't think she'd have appreciated my comparison between him and his infant son. She clicked a few things and abandoned the computer, turning back to us. "Okay, William," she said, sliding off the chair and onto the floor. "Play ball!"
He giggled at Monica's expression, wide eyes, a silly grin and hands upraised as if she were trying to catch the ball. I was grinning at her myself, until I heard his little voice call out, "Dada!"
My heart ached even as I turned to grin at the little boy. I shook my head and pointed to myself, knowing full well he didn't understand the word he was saying. "John," I said simply. "Not dada, John."
"I don't know, I think it's kind of cute."
I scooted back so we were in a triangle and rolled the rubber ball to William. He missed, catching it by accident between his chubby thighs. I glanced at Monica, raising an eyebrow. "Whaddya mean, it's cute?"
"You, being called 'dada'. I think it's sweet. I know he doesn't mean it," Monica laughed, as William held the ball in front of his face and studiously addressed it as 'dada', too. "But it's nice." Her voice had softened and she was giving me that 'I'm sorry your son is dead' look. I'd seen it so many times over the years, I'd learned to recognize it easily.
"Yeah," I shrugged noncommittally, continuing the game with William.
"Have you thought about kids?" Monica asked quietly. "Since Luke, I mean."
I nodded slowly. William finally caught the ball between his little hands and I cheered automatically. "Good boy!" I applauded lightly. "That's right." He beamed at me, so proud of himself. "Now, roll it back to me," I told the baby, completely involved in the game now. I had my legs wide, giving him plenty of room to aim in. I leaned over, taking William's hands in mine. "See, roll it." I pushed the ball from between his fingers so it bounced and rolled in my general direction. "There ya go."
William just whined, reaching for the ball again, hugging it to his chest. I shrugged, turning back to Monica. "Maybe he's a little young for sharing," I said. Standing, I stretched, working out the kinks in my back. No matter how much you work out, at some point your body reminds you that it's spent more than forty years on this planet. Settling on the edge of the bed, I watched William, and saw Monica out of the corner of my eye.
I saw her stand and come over to me, her hand resting on my shoulder. "John," she said gently. "You didn't answer my question."
"I don't have a good answer," I replied, glancing up at Monica. "Yeah, I've thought about it. And yeah, it hurts to think about it. I feel like I'm betrayin' my son, thinkin' about replacin' 'im." I let the words tumble out without thinking them through, something I was becoming adept at, thanks to her.
"You wouldn't be," Monica offered logically. "I can understand how it would feel that way, though." I didn't like where this was going at all, but I had no choice than to let it roll. "Have you...have you thought about us?"
I knew exactly what she meant and I couldn't bear to talk about it right then. "Yeah," I said, glancing at the clock. "It's gettin' close to suppertime. Do you want to go out?" I asked.
Monica accepted the change of topic, knowing me and my moods better than anyone. "Sure," she said. "Let me change William and we'll go."
*Thanks.*
* * *
When we got back from dinner, there was an e-mail from Jimmy. He'd contacted Mulder, and received a reply almost instantly. He and Scully were thrilled at our plans but warned us to continue being careful. Jimmy's friend Lois, or Yves as I'd been instructed to call her, should we meet, had news for us. She had a contact in Mexico City who could give us new passports. Jimmy arranged everything for us and told Monica where we could pick them up locally.
Then Monica sent an unencoded, very traceable e-mail from her work account to A.D. Skinner. She told him we were fine, and promised to explain everything when we returned to DC. Asking for an official leave of absence on both our parts, Monica told him we had 'unfinished business' and we'd be back as soon as humanly possible.
"I guess that's it," I said, surveying the room one last time to make sure we'd gotten everything. "We just have to get our papers and it's 'Adios, Mexico'."
Monica nodded, cradling William against her shoulder. "And 'Bonjourno, Italy'."
THE END
