"Somehow I lost myself in a tunnel long and black. Somewhere at the end I pretend there's a way of turning back." -From "One more Addiction" by Natalie Imbruglia.
The window was open, and the cool October air made Reyes shiver. Lost in a deep sleep, she unconsciously pulled a little closer to Doggett. He reached for the blanket that had somehow gotten crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed. Sweat still clung to their skin, making them even colder. Reyes wore nothing but Doggett's shirt and her underwear. Doggett was in his boxers.
Pulling the blanket over them both, Doggett thought about this woman that he had just shared his love with in every way possible. Here, sleeping with her head on his chest, her left arm thrown over his stomach and her left leg crossed over both of his, she looked so peaceful. Yet there was a certain vulnerability about her. In the tub she had shown him every scar Brad had ever caused her...12 in all, and he had kissed them passionately. The scars were mostly light and faded, only visible when she pointed them out, but he could tell that the scars ran much deeper than just her skin and the pain would probably never go away. There was the scar from her c- section, one on her back from a time he'd taken a belt to her, one from where they'd had to operate on a broken arm and a few she had inflicted on herself during her depression a few years ago...and some she didn't remember the story behind because he'd given her a few blows to the head. But the one that made Doggett maddest was on the back of her neck. There, usually hidden by her hair, were the initials B.F. He'd carved his initials onto her like a serial number on a Barbie Doll. She said she'd been unconscious at the time and hadn't felt a thing, but Doggett wondered if she told him that just to keep him from taking the first flight back to D.C, marching right up to that FBI building, and shooting Brad Follmer in the face. No, first the balls, then the face.
That was exactly what he would do if he didn't stop thinking about it. So instead he thought about Reyes. No, Monica. She wasn't Reyes anymore, she was Monica Doggett. Of course they'd used their aliases on the marriage license, but in his head she was Monica Doggett. His Monica. He'd never done anything to deserve a woman who loved him as much as she did. She said she loved him more than anyone had ever been loved, and Doggett knew she did. They both did.
Scully knew she was pregnant now. Her period was more than three weeks late, and she felt the exact same way she'd felt with William.
The next inspection took place early in the morning. This was a very bad thing for Scully, who usually threw up her entire breakfast and parts of the previous night's dinner. Sometimes her lunch would come up again in the afternoon. Mulder worried that she wasn't getting enough nutrition.
As the inspector walked by their crate, she couldn't help it. He heard, and soon the top to the crate was off and the rugs on top of them were pulled back. All the inspector, who appeared to be British, said was, "I hope you're going to pay for those."