Doggett sat with his back to Monica's parents. He didn't do it to ignore them, he did it because it was the only way that he could keep both eyes on Monica at all times. They had been so sweet to him, and had made a fuss of him, in his opinion so that they felt easier about being able to do nothing for their daughter, but he didn't mind. If it was making life easier for them then so be it, it certainly wasn't doing him any harm being allowed to watch her sleeping day in and day out. It had been a week now and she showed no signs of waking up. Nobody could explain it. There was nothing wrong that the brain scans could show, every scan, test, examination, they all came back blank, not a doctor in the hospital could explain why she was not conscious.
Of course as she was an FBI agent nobody at the hospital made any kind of fuss about them leaving a patient wasting a bed or taking up valuable space that another patient could have been using.
Doggett had almost lost her once before because of a doctor eager to cut her up, this time he had her parents on his side, and he wasn't going to stand by and watch her slip away. By sitting with her she would know he needed her back, she would know that she had no choice but to wake up and pick up in her life where she left off. It was a horrible thing to say but he was grateful she was in a place where she could be watched twenty-four/seven, where she could be protected, kept safe until Gibson Praise was apprehended.
As he worked the knots in his neck he felt Monica's parents staring into his back. He turned around slowly and they both smiled at him.
"John I have to ask, who is that man that keeps stopping by?"
"Who? You mean Mulder?" Her mother nodded.
"Yes. I walked in yesterday and he was crying by her bedside, tell me, you weren't having problems, he isn't another love interest?" Doggett smiled, and it hurt because he hadn't smiled in days. But how did he answer this without telling them everything. Maybe he should just come out and tell them. Would it really be that bad?
"Fox Mulder is another agent at the bureau. He worked on the unit Monica and I are way before we came along on the scene. He's a good friend, and he and Monica had become close over the past couple of months."
"But why? What happened?" Ok, he had to tell them now. He wasn't one to get a reputation for lying. They had a right to know what Monica had found out about where she came from.
"Monica looked into her past just after Christmas last year. She had discovered with the help of a DNA test conducted within the bureau that she and Mulder shared the same birth father. She went looking for her birth mother and discovered she had passed away, but she had a sister living in the same house and she got closer to her, and who she really was. The aunt passed away a few weeks ago, and since Christmas Monica and Mulder have been getting to know each other better, as a brother and sister. That's why he's been stopping by so often, because he's family. Because he wants her to wake up just as badly as we do." He stopped talking and realised maybe he should have taken a break sooner because Monica's parents looked horrified.
When her mother ran out of the room in tears he turned quickly back to Monica and replaced her hand in his own. Maybe that hadn't been the best idea after all. But when her father stood up and placed his hand on Doggett's shoulder he turned to look at him and was surprised to receive an understanding nod as the man walked out of the room in search of his wife. Doggett prayed that somehow this would all pan out for the best. Things certainly couldn't get much worse.
Reyes had seen the girl three or four times now. And every time she would simply just smile and then disappear. Not all dissimilar to what had happened with Audrey, but this was different. She was in a playground, with swings and slides and sandpits. And she didn't know how long she had been there but she knew that she couldn't leave. Not yet. Sometimes she could hear other voices. These voices sounded like John, and Dana. And sometimes she thought she could see Mulder crying, but none of it was real, it was as if it were a dream. But which part of this wasn't a dream?
She remembered the bullet, time had stood still and if she didn't know any better she could swear that she saw the bullet enter her, she had felt it pierce her skin, enter her chest and lodge itself there. Everything after that moment was a blur. She had come close to death she knew that for certain, for she had watched herself wheeled into the hospital from the distance, everything was from a distance, so far away from her that she could do nothing but watch and wonder.
She had seen other people. She did not know who they were but she had seen so many faces walking around the park that she did not understand what this place was. She had seen her aunt. The only living blood relative, apart from Mulder, which she had ever met. And she didn't want to believe it but her aunt always came by with another woman, they never looked at her though, not like the others. When the others walked by they nodded and smiled at her, as if she was doing something commendable, but her aunt and this other woman walked by without once looking at her. The thought that this woman may be her mother scared her. Because that meant she was closer to death than she liked to believe she was.
Despite her concerns she was not afraid, not once had she been startled or feared for herself. Something was at work to keep her safe, somehow she felt safer here than she ever had in the 'real' world. But why? What was she supposed to do here? And for how long? If she was lying in a hospital bed somewhere was it simply a case of waiting and seeing if some doctor somewhere, or God forbid, her family and friends, to decide she was gone? Would she even know if they let her go? She had no idea about anything. But still she was not afraid; there was nothing here that promoted a reason to be frightened or anxious.
The one thing she desperately wanted to know was who that little girl was. She looked to be about eight or nine years old, and there was something oddly familiar about her, as if she should know whom she was without needing to think about it. All the girl had ever done was smile at her and then disappear again, as if she was biding her time to get Reyes to do or say something that would explain what all of this was. Somehow Reyes knew that this little girl was the only person walking around this park at intervals throughout the day that she needed to pay attention to. And she only hoped that soon she would know why.