Author's Note: In this story, Luke wasn't cremated. He was buried.
St. Mary's Hospital – Washington, D.C.
"I got here as fast as I could," Dana Scully announced, running straight to where John sat. "When did this happen?"
John didn't answer right away, so Scully touched his shoulder gently. As he turned to her, she saw his eyes were bloodshot from crying.
"Oh, John," she murmured.
"It's all my fault," he confessed brokenly. "She came to see me, and Barbara answered the door. I had no idea…"
"Wait a minute," Scully interrupted. "Who is Barbara?"
"Barbara is my ex-wife. She came to discuss flowers for Luke's grave. I never expected her to think I was involved with her." He buried his face in his hands in shame.
"What difference would that make…" Scully started before the realization dawned on her. "How long have you…"
"Too long. I have to tell her. If she doesn't make it, I don't know what I'd do." He sighed and continued. "I'd never be able to live with myself."
Scully patted his hand reassuringly and rose to talk to a passing doctor.
John also stood up, but chose to see how Monica was doing. He slowly walked towards her room, stretching his legs. When he reached her room, he paused before opening the door. An older man and woman were standing by her bed, talking softly.
"How is she doing?" John asked, startling them both.
"Are you John?" the woman asked, hope gleaming in her eyes.
"Yes, I'm Monica's partner," he answered. "Why do you ask?"
"We're her parents," her father chimed in. "We were worried, so we came to see her, but when she's recovered, we'll know she's in good hands. She'd always talk about you, and we knew she would be safe with someone like you around."
John felt the tears welling up again, but knew he had to be stong in front of Monica's parents.
"That means a lot to me," he managed. "I wish I could've prevented this. I put myself completely at blame for what happened, and I really don't think I could handle it if something happened to her." He looked her parents straight in the eye and continued. "She means a lot to me. More than she'll ever know."
A nurse walked into the room, announcing that only direct family members were allowed.
"I should go, then. Tell me if anything changes," John said, reluctantly backing away from the bed.
Monica's mother had different plans, however.
"Mr. Doggett," the nurse called before he could leave, "Ms. Reyes mother has informed me of your situation. I'm sorry. You may stay if you like." She filed out of the room with her creaky cart rolling behind her.
"What did you tell her?" John asked, a confused look on his face.
"Well, I hope you don't get angry with me, but I told her you and Monica are engaged to be married," her mother confessed, biting her lip and wringing her hands.
"Anything so I could see her," he quickly replied. There was no way he'd pass up the opportunity for people to think he was engaged to Monica!
He was in love with her, that much was obvious to everyone. She was in love with him as well, but for some reason, they never told each other. If they would, they'd be so much happier.
But, John would have to wait for Monica to recover before he could tell anyone the depth of his feelings. Until then, he would have to keep a steady vigil by her bedside, rarely leaving except to eat, sleep, and use the restroom.
On the fourth day she was in the hospital, Scully came to check on Monica, only to find John asleep at her bedside, his hand gently encasing hers. She tiptoed to where John was, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
He awoke with a start, asking frantically, "Did something happen? Is Monica alright?"
"Yes, she's fine. I just thought maybe you should go home. You know, take a shower, change clothes…You'd feel a lot better," Scully responded.
"I can't leave the hospital. What if something happens with Monica? I want to be here, Scully. You more than anybody should know what it's like." He pleaded with her using his eyes.
Scully could see there was no way he was leaving now, so she volunteered, "Well, then, I'll go to your house and bring you back a change of clothes, if you give me your key."
"Thanks, Scully, it means a lot to me," John thanked profusely. "I'm sure everyone suspects my reasons for staying here, but thanks for not telling Skinner."
"I have my reasons," she agreed, thinking of Mulder. They had went through the same situation. Everyone cooperated with them, so she figured she'd better cooperate with John and Monica – well, John for now. "Anyway, I'm going to get going. Your key, please?"
"Oh, right." John fumbled in his coat pocket, found his keys and handed them to Scully. "This is the house key. You do know which house is mine, don't you?" He grinned at her, knowing that she knew all too well where he lived.
She rolled her eyes at him and walked out of the room, smiling to herself. As she reached the elevator, she remembered a question she was going to ask him and walked back to Monica's room.
Once she reached the room, however, she decided the question could wait and headed back towards the elevator. When she had looked in the door of Monica's room, she had spied John sitting on the bed, brushing Monica's hair back and gently caressing her face. He had leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead, then laid his own head on her chest. He was happy just to hear her breathing.
As Scully stepped into the elevator and pushed the down button, she wiped an escaped tear from her face. Seeing John like that reminded her of how desperate she was to see Mulder. She hoped he was still alive and well, and would be able to come home to her and their son.