Disclaimer: Since Chris Carter ditched Monica and John does that mean I can have them now? Pretty please?

Category: Post-ep, Doggett/Reyes friendship, UST

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Underneath and a very subtle reference to Audrey Pauley.

Author: Traci

Summary: John tries to come to terms with the events in NY while Monica just tries to get warm after swimming in the sewer.

Author's Notes: If I cry and whine enough will that bring John and Monica back? Okay, I have tried and tried to write fic for shows that are currently on (CSI, Criminal Intent, SVU) but I still keep coming back to the XF... Is there an X-Files anonymous support group anywhere????

All I Thought I Knew

John Doggett stood staring at his partner, still trying to wrap his mind around the evening's previous events. Everything he had known as a self-proclaimed "meat and potatoes" cop had gone to hell beneath the streets of New York.

"John..." Monica Reyes' brown eyes searched his – offering the comfort she reserved solely for him.

"I can't. Not right now. Not yet." It was then he noticed a strong shiver course through her body. "You're freezing, Monica. Let's get out of here."

With a small, grateful smile, she allowed him to lead her down the tunnels and above ground.

Having returned the officer's coat before they left, Monica rubbed her arms as John unlocked his hotel room door. "I wish I had thought to bring warmer clothes," she muttered through chattering teeth.

"Are you sure you don't want me to run out and get you something?" he offered, opening the door for her.

She shook her head, strands of still damp hair sticking to her face. "I just need to get a hot shower and crawl under the blankets." Reaching the connecting door, she turned and smiled at him. "Thank you though." With that, she entered her own room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

John sat on the edge of his bed. He had been so sure Monica had been wrong. He had been so sure she had finally come up with the most insane theory he had ever heard of. How could one person be two? He had been so sure there were two people involved. He had been sure up until he had jumped into the cold water of the sewers and seen for himself. Hearing the shower water turn on in the other room, John glanced at the door and the sliver of light shining through. What made her stay with him? He did nothing but laugh at her, belittle her theories, especially only a few hours earlier in the car. Yet she said nothing. She always remained calm and stood by him. With a small smile, he stood up and left the room.

Monica lost track of how long she had let the hot water run over her. She had not realized how cold she truly had been until they arrived back at the hotel. In the sewers her main concern had been John's life. A shiver ran through her once again at the thought of how many bodies had been down there. How long had he been able to kill? Slowly she turned the water off and got dressed in her nightgown and robe.

A large smile grew on her lips when she looked at her bed. Neatly placed on it was a new, thick, gray sweatshirt with New York Yankees written on it as well as a pair of slightly large gray sweatpants that she concluded belonged to John. Lying on top of them was a note that read: 'Thought these might help. If you're interested there's pizza in my room too. J."

Sliding the warm clothes on over her nightgown, she lightly knocked on his door before opening it. "Thank you."

John had just taken a large bite of pizza and nodded from where he sat propped up against the headboard.

She walked over, took a large slice for herself and sat beside him.

"I still don't understand," he said after swallowing.

"I don't think any of us ever will."

He looked at her. "You were right, though. You knew. Somehow you must understand then."

Her eyes searched his. They were desperate for an answer – an answer that made sense to him. "I really don't, John. To tell you the truth, I wasn't so sure about my theory either."

"But back in the car..."

"I just wanted you to keep an open mind," she grinned.

With an amused glint in his eye, he took another bite of pizza and turned the television channel to the local news. The mass killings of a freed killer was the top story.

"Mon, I'm sorry," he whispered when she finished her pizza.

"What for?"

"Back in the car." His blue eyes met hers. "I didn't mean to snap at you like I did. You were only trying to help and I..." He felt her finger on his lips.

"John Doggett, you never have to apologize for being you." She allowed her finger to linger a little longer until John swallowed hard. Stifling a yawn, she was the first to look away. "I guess tonight's events are catching up to me." Sliding off the bed, she looked back at him. "Are you alright?"

He laughed. "I'm not the one who fell through the floor and turned into a drowned rat." Then he turned serious. "But yes, I am. Goodnight, Monica."

Giving him the smile she reserved for him only, she said, "Goodnight, John," and disappeared into her own room, leaving the connecting door opened just a little more than usual.

John continued to stare at the door well after the lights went out in her room. Why were they playing this game? He had been the first to back away the last time they were in a situation where their mutual attraction had risen to the surface. This time it had been her. Why was it so difficult for them to admit it? No one knew him better than she and he was pretty sure no one knew her better than he. With a sigh, he turned off the television, pushed all thoughts of the case out of his mind and reached for the light.

"John?" came a soft whisper.

He rolled over to find Monica standing in the doorway, still in the sweats. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing really." Her gaze drifted down to the floor.

"Monica..."

Hesitantly she looked at him. "You can say no but... would you mind if I slept in here tonight? I'll take the sofa."

John sat up in the bed. "Mon, what's wrong, this isn't like you. Talk to me."

Taking a deep breath, she walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's just from being cold and over-tired..."

"You're still cold?"

She nodded. "I just can't get that image of all those bodies out of my mind."

John reached over and touched her shoulder.

Monica looked at him before lying down beside him.

Pulling the covers up over them both, John wrapped his arms around her and held close. "There was nothing you could have done, Monica," he whispered. "You did the most important thing you could have – you saved me."

She snuggled closer, sliding her arm around his waist and mumbled something incoherent.

John smiled as she fell asleep. Nothing else in the past few days had made sense yet, at that moment, none of that mattered. Monica was there – with him – and that... that made all the sense in the world. Placing a soft kiss atop her hair, he pulled her just a little closer and drifted off to sleep himself.

The End