She saw John go under and screamed his name.

He didn't respond. There was a long moment where Monica was sure he'd bob back up. It was a joke but John didn't play jokes like that. Not on her.

She ran across the stones and plunged in. The water hit her like needles. The foothold she had was slippery and it was hard to see where he had gone down. When her feet couldn't touch bottom anymore, Monica's entire body felt numb. But she had to reach John.

When she was about three feet from where he disappeared under the lake's surface, he popped up to the top, choking and coughing. It took all her strength to grab him and pull John back toward the shore.

"My God," he said, in a whistling, reedy voice before passing out. Monica fell beside him and shut her eyes as well. It didn't feel like she'd been out for any length of time until someone was pushing her shoulder gently. Slowly, Monica opened her eyes to see a blur. She opened her mouth to talk but no words would form.

"Mon, we've gotta get you ito a change of clothes. Come on," John said. Her eyes cleared and there he was, semi-dry and looking very worried. With one arm around her shoulders and another arounnd her waist, John walked her to the tent and helped her climb in. "I've got some coffee started that should be ready by the time you get changed."

Ten minutes later, she was in dry clothes and cradling a steaming cup of coffee. John sat down next to her on the fallen log that doubled as their camp chair. He seemed preoccupied and kept squinting out at the water.

"You saw it," she said, not accusing or wondering or waving any sort of I told you so in his face. John nodded, as a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the forest behind them.

"It was there," he sighed, fumbling with his own cup."I just felt like something...like it..."

Monica waited patiently for him to finish. Instead, he trailed off and tears filled his eyes. She moved closer and pulled him into an embrace.

"I wanted to be there," he said through tears. "I wanted to get away from...these terrible things..."

Monica tightened her grip.

"We just can't go on this way," John said, pulling away. "Something's got to give."

She looked at the ground and exhaled sharply. John got up and walked to the edge of the water again. He picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. There was nothing Monica could say to calm him. There was no absolute guarantee they'd be together next week, next month or next year and the truth of that was something neither of them could face. She moved to his side and watched the ripples from the stone reach out across the water.

"If you know deep in your heart what's going to happen, you have to tell me, Monica. I've doubted you in the past and for that I'm sorry," he said, not looking at her.

"My heart is just as unsure as yours. I wish I knew. The best we can do is keep trying," Monica whispered. "And let the FBI foot the bill when we both go nuts."

John turned and smiled at her. The smile turned into an embrace, a warm hug that lingered as the soft breeze blew and the pines swayed lightly at their very top.

XXXXXXX

Upon returning to their hotel rooms, both headed to the shower. Monica watched the dirt run off her body and spiral down the drain. As the shower filled with mist, her thoughts turned toward Knightville and what John must have seen. A dusty street, wagons, maybe a Model A kicking up dirt and spooking horses. It was almost too much like the "Twilight Zone" episode that centered on Grover's Corners. John had almost jumped from the train, for lack of a better explaination.

She was almost out of the shower when a blinding flash caught between her eyes and momentarily stunned her. A shout rang through the ears and echoed off the interior walls of her brain...

Desperately gripping the side of the top, Monica sank to the floor.

Sister.

You have a sister.

A sister I've met before.

Lying prostrate on the tile, names and faces flashed though her mind until it stopped on one. It was a woman she'd met two weeks ago in New York State. It was a chance meeting in a small upstate town. John's ex-partner Elliot was coming back from an investigation and they all ran into each other at a grocery store. Elliot's partner seemed so familiar but they'd never met. There was some connection they made that Monica didn't realize until now. Her brain was screaming it. That damn sixth sense was screaming it.

Of course, the whole thing could be terribly wrong. It could be a coincidence. Her adoptive family didn't know much about Monica's past, but did know her birth mother was desperate to keep the birth a secret from friends and family. But the eyes...they shared the same eyes...

Monica got up off the floor and got dressed. This was the wrong time to discover familial connections, thanks to the mess they were in at work. She was just about to go out the door when John swung it open.

"A mirage. That's what people are seeing on that lake. A very detailed mirage," he said proudly.

"No."

John looked stunned.

"It's overactive imaginations and maybe some kind of petro-chemical mix in the water and air. Did you see all those paper mills we passed?" Monica said firmly. John just stood there blankly.

"I saw it. It wasn't my imagination. It was real, a real town," he stuttered.

Monica shook her head. She was still thinking about her episode in the bathroom. This happened sometimes and it truly was like a "shine" as Stephen King buffs would understand. But it had never come so clearly to her.

"You look spooked. You okay?"

She shook off the feelings and managed a shaky smile.

Monica went for a drive. The town was quiet and peaceful but storm clouds were gathering in the distance, blocking the sun's rays over the mountains. She found herself back at the spot where the accident happened. She silently walked from lightpole to lightpole to unscientifically measure where the car would have landed. Touching the guardrail, another mental slam buckled her knees and sent her crashing to the macadam.

Oh God the kids Oh God the kids can't see me Monica the ditch get in the won't understand ditch broken glass gearshiftnotyour timenotyourtime

Her eyes cleared after a moment. No mention of "sister" that time. Just a confusing, jumbled series of thoughts and smeary lights against the green trees and the sound of the river flowing nearby. And out of the corner of her eye, a figure in white whisped among the tangled blackberry branches on the bank and floated over the road. It disappeared in the ditch on the other side. Elsie Summerall was standing on her sidewalk, looking sadly in Monica's direction. Elsie turned before Monica could say anything and went inside her house.

Monica couldn't really remember driving back to the cabin but John was waiting there, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands over his face.

"John?"

"He's back. Scully called me. Mulder turned up again and we've got to go back tomorrow morning," he mumbled.

"Oh," Monica said, sitting beside him.

"I wish we could have finished here. Toxicology reports came back on Eddie and Baker Showalter. They were extremely drunk...but I wasn't. You know that. I can't account for what I saw, what I heard. It was right there in front of me."

John stared helplessly at the back of his hands. His attention turned to Monica's knees, which were bleeding through the thin material of her jeans. "Jeez, what happened to you? I thought you were just going for a drive," he said.

"I was, but I went back to the accident site. Something happened this afternoon that makes me wonder if I'm just going crazy. I had these flashes. The first time, a voice told me I had a sister. It was that woman we met in New York who worked with your old partner."

John leveled his gaze at Monica, trying not to let his skepticism take over after all he'd seen.

"And I must have tapped into the woman's thoughts before the accident. I heard them so clearly. She thought of me...my name," she sighed. "Maybe she was the one who wanted tell me about my sister."

"Stabler's partner. I could call and get her name when we get back, if we have the time," John said, putting an arm around her.

"No. There won't be any time. That's the thing. There will never be any time for me to meet her or figure out even if there's the slightest possibility we're related."

John looked at her sharply.

"We're out of time, John. When we get back it's Mulder and Dana's time, not ours. All this - "

She waved her arms around.

" - will seem like a dream. It'll be like Knightville...buried under some opaque cloud that will tempt us to return, only we can't."

John lowered his head. He seemed to struggle for words. The heat from his open palm burned through the back of her shirt.

"What if we just didn't go back?" he finally said, giving Monica a desperate, pleading look. "What's say we run off into Canada or something...take the money we've both saved up..build a little house. Just you and me."

"We're in this over our heads. Running off won't solve the problem. They always know how to find people, just like in Democrat Springs," she said, really wanting nothing more than to run off with him.

"I guess you're right. You usually are. But tonight I want to go eat a nice meal and go back out to Knightville, just because it's our time. Dinner's my treat."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Everyone in town recommended The Rapids as the best place around so they climbed a road that ran parallel to the one that took everyone to Knightville. The tables sat right a mountain stream, so they ate while the crisp, cool water bubbled just a few steps away. Heat lightning snapped and popped on the horizon but the mountain air was blessedly cool and dry.

It was the last time they'd sit down to eat a proper meal for the next two hectic weeks. John seemed more relaxed but a bit melacholy.

"I wish they had places like this in DC," he said, drinking the rest of his beer. The small lantern on their table made his eyes glow softly. Monica had a sense of what he looked like twenty years ago, before losing Luke.

She remembered almost losing him. John never knew she watched him die in that hospital. She pulled the plug. She knew he'd never live that way, tied to a computer and unable to eat.

"Mon, you ready to go?"

He caught her daydreaming. The dusk was purple that night and the stars shone down brightly from the heavens. Knightville Dam was quiet, save for the faint sound of campers and canoeists on the other side of the lake. The two of them scrambled to the top of a rocky outcropping that offered a dizzying view of the water and the sky. A low mist covered the water, not unlike what Monica had seen at the accident site.

"I hope you find your sister one day," John said. "I want to be there when you do."

A soft wind blew, rippling the surface of the water. The moon went behind a cloud.

When its muted light returned, Knightville came out of the mist. The soft glow of candles lit up the windows of the shops and homes. Screen doors banged and the faint sound of piano music wafted out of the air. They could hear boots shuffling on the wooden sidewalks. John tried to stand up, but Monica pulled him down again. They shared a smile.

Neither of them would remember how long they sat there, just listening to the quiet sounds of the little town going about its business. But one by one, the candles began to go out.

"They're going to bed," Monica said, in a hushed tone.

John reached for her hand as the last candle was extingushed, leaving the town in darkness.

Knightville slowly faded away and it seemed to Monica nothing existed in the universe beside them and the stars.

It would be weeks before she'd look up at the sky again.

THE END

Author's Note: This more or less leads right up to the beginning of "The Truth". For what happened after that, check out my story called Tomorrow.

Thanks for reading!