"Calm down." John didn't move from his seat as Monica yanked his arm. "If they're watching us and you keep jumpin' around like that," he said quietly, "they're gonna figure out we're on to 'em." Realizing he was right, Monica lowered the bag and sank into the chair beside John. "Now, you wanna tell me what Jimmy said?" John asked. Monica proceeded to spill out the entire story in a hushed voice. When she was done, John queried disbelievingly, "You got all this from somethin' about his girlfriend's cookin'?"

"She can't cook, but that's not the point. Jimmy was trying to get me to connect Italy and a crime. Mulder and Scully are on the FBI's hit list. Another couple of days away from DC, and we will be, too."

John was fuming at the possibility that they'd failed at everything they'd tried to do for Mulder and Scully. "Okay, so...crime and Italy. What the hell is the connection?" he persisted.

"I think he was trying to tell me that we'd be arrested if we went to Italy," Monica theorized. "Or that Mulder and Scully are in danger of being caught."

"But Jimmy chose the place for us to meet up," John argued. "Don'tcha think he checked it out?"

"Yeah..." Monica trailed off, sighing inwardly at the latest turn of events. "I don't know *what* to think anymore." She lowered her eyes, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

"Mon." John tried to get her attention. "Monica?" She looked up, fear and doubt clouding her eyes. Monica let him see it for the first time since they'd escaped New Mexico. John continued, in a softer tone. "It's gonna be all right. We're gonna get on that plane," he said firmly, "an' once we get to Italy, we'll play it by ear. We've made it this far, and we didn't know half a' what we know now. It'll be okay," he promised her.

"Mi roca," Monica murmured. The stress of the past few weeks combined with John's uncharacteristic sweetness to make her choke up. She found herself fighting the rush of tears threatening to attack her cheeks. "My rock." She reached over, squeezing John's hand in gentle appreciation.

"Mi mundo," John replied, his voice barely audible. He cleared his throat and broke the tender moment. "Okay, let's just be cool, all right? Let them see us get on that plane lookin' like we don't got a care in the world."

Monica agreed in a murmur. "Okay." Forcing a smile onto her face, she reached for William. "I think somebody needs a new diaper." She brushed a kiss across John's lips before lifting the baby out of his lap and grabbing the diaper bag.

John watched Monica walk away, asking himself the same questions she had just asked. He wondered how were they going to get out of the situation in one piece, and what would become of Mulder, Scully and William. John doubted that he and Monica would be able to get back into the U.S. without a heap of trouble. But one question bothered him more than the rest. Who was after them and what did they really want?

To that, he had no answer.

* * *

The next twenty-four hours could only be described as a vicious hazing. The fifteen-hours of traveling, the connecting flight in Germany and the mounting tension as they neared Italy compounded each other to push John and Monica's stress levels to their limits.

'Benvenuti a Verona!' The sign greeted them cheerily as they disembarked. John lugged William over to the information booth to exchange American dollars for Euros; Monica made a beeline for the ladies' room. They met up and headed for the ubiquitous bank of telephones outside the airport terminal, where John handed her the international calling card they'd purchased before fleeing Mexico. Monica dialed quickly, praying for good luck to come their way. She thought they were about due for some - and they were. Jimmy picked up on the second ring.

"Jimmy, it's Agent Reyes."

"Monica!" he breathed a sigh of relief. "I got rid of the eavesdroppers last night, we're secure. Where are you?"

"Verona."

"Whatever you do, don't go to Brindisi!" Jimmy's yelp startled Monica.

"Why not?"

"It's a long story that I'll explain sometime, but I --" he faltered in embarrassment. "I got caught with my pants down. Brindisi's a port, and according to our Italian contact, it's the most popular place for immigrants trying to enter Italy illegally. You'd be spotted immediately by about a hundred cops."

"Damn, Jimmy. Thanks," Monica murmured sincerely. "So if not Brindisi, where do we go?"

Jimmy was silent for a second and Monica heard the clattering of his keyboard. "There's a shop about three blocks south of the airport, a little tourist trap. Go in there and pick up a book that's right in the front display. It's called 'Conversational Italian for the Tourist'. When you go up to the counter to buy it, your contact's gonna approach your partner, so tell him so he doesn't freak. Got it?"

"Got it. Thanks again, Jimmy." Monica hung up and turned to John. She checked their mini-map and figured out which way was south. Monica led him down the street while explaining her conversation with Jimmy. When they reached the store, Monica tried not to show her fear. Everything was in this contact's hands now. *Can we trust him?* she wondered. *Can we trust anyone now?* Regardless, Monica knew they had no choice, so she entered the store and walked up to the display, John and William in tow. Reaching for the book, she spoke in hushed tones to John. "Here goes nothing." Raising her voice a little, Monica said, "This looks like it'll do. I'm gonna go pay for it, be right back." She dug her wallet out of the diaper bag, kissing John's cheek for the benefit of anyone watching, and approached the sales clerk.

"Buon pomeriggio." Monica used the little Italian she knew to greet the young woman.

"Buon pomeriggio," the woman echoed, reaching for the book and running it under the scanner. "Seven twenty-two, please,"

As Monica paid for the book, a girl of no more than twenty approached John. "Che bel bambino!" she exclaimed softly.

John glanced down at her, wondering for a moment what she was saying. He figured it out by the expression on her face as she brushed her fingers over William's pudgy cheek. "Sorry, I don't speak Italian," he said simply.

Pretending to coo over the baby again, the woman spoke to John without meeting his eyes. "I speak English, Agent Doggett." Her voice was low and cool, her words heavily-accented but perfectly spoken.

"How do you --" John caught himself. "You're our contact?" he asked in surprise. She looked barely old enough to be his daughter, never mind a covert agent.

"Si, signore. Giorgia Cordioli, at your service." She finally looked up and John was struck by her eyes; as green as sea-water and flecked with hints of gray, they spoke of many secrets.

"Signorina Cordioli --"

"Giorgia," she corrected him.

"Giorgia...any chance we can get out of here?" John exchanged a glance with Monica as she approached. Her face lit up as she saw their contact, but she didn't say a word.

"Of course. Come with me." Giorgia led them quickly out of the store, chattering a mile a minute in Italian. She told them how good it was to see them after all this time, and mused on how much they must have missed Italy while they were traveling in the States.

Monica caught a word or two she understood, and Giorgia murmured comments in English to keep up the cover. "Laugh," she said once. "I just told you a joke about a pig and a lawyer." Monica couldn't help truly giggling, despite John's stony countenance. They finally reached Giorgia's car and climbed in. "Hold on tight," she said as she pulled out into Verona's midday traffic.

Hitting the gas, Giorgia took off, weaving and darting through the lines of cars. Monica held tight to William, saying a silent prayer, and John kept his arm around her for balance. After five minutes of daredevil driving, Giorgia slowed down and risked a glance at her passengers in the rearview. "Welcome to Italy," she teased. "I am sorry about that, but I had to lose the people following you before they had a chance to pick up on our presence."

"It's okay," Monica assured her. "We understand." John muttered a remark that neither woman could hear. "Where are we going?" she continued, unfazed.

Giorgia grinned at them in the rearview mirror, turning right onto a tiny brick street. "My apartment. You'll be staying with me while you're here." After about a mile, the road narrowed to a one-way alley, and she pulled up in front of a building that looked nearly a century old. "Here we are." Climbing out of the car and grabbing their bags, she didn't wait as her passengers followed suit. By the time Monica and John reached the door, Giorgia was halfway up the staircase. "Hurry!" she encouraged them. They didn't question it, trudging wearily up the stairs as fast as they could. Giorgia burst into the apartment, declaring "Siamo a casa!"

Scully was up off the couch in a flash and before Monica could grin in surprise, William was out of her arms and back in his mother's.

THE END