Title: Anything Easy Has Its Cost 
Author: Agent Toad 
Email: Agent_Toad@hotmail.com (Feedback greatly 
welcomed!!) 
Category: X, S, R 
Rating: PG-13 (language, 'splosions, mild sexual innuendo) 
Spoilers: Seasons 8 & 9, just to be safe 
Keywords: Reyes/Doggett romance; Scully Baby File; 
Appearances by the Gunmen & Skinner!!! 
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.  The 
characters belong to CC, 1013, and Fox.  Don't sue.  No 
beta reader used; all mistakes are mine (or Microsoft 
Word's) And by the way, I mean NO insult to Mulder.  He is 
referred to badly by Doggett, but it is in the pretense of 
a cover story.  So don't flame me, PLEASE!!  I love my 
Mulder!!  Also, title courtesy of Barenaked Ladies. 
Feedback: Please, please, please!!!  This is my second fic, 
so I need the encouragement! 
Archive: XFMU, The Vision, Gossamer.  Anywhere else, sure, 
just let me know. 
Summary: When John Doggett disappears, and Skinner seems to 
be covering something up, Reyes must discover the truth. 


    John Doggett had been missing for three days, and 
Monica Reyes was running out of options.  She had been to 
his house twice, even stayed there overnight last night, 
but he hadn't come home.  His truck was gone, and the milk 
in his fridge had gone sour. 

    She had last spoken with him three nights ago.  It was 
Friday, and she had left work early.  He called her to let 
her know a potential case had found its way to him.  They 
spent a good half hour discussing its merits, and finally 
decided on a "wait-and-see" stance.  The conversation had 
ended with John assuring her he would call her tomorrow. 
She had never received that call. 

    For the second time that day, Monica stormed into AD 
Skinner's office. 
    "Damn it, Skinner, if you know something about John, I 
want to know NOW!  He's my partner, and I'm not going to 
sit here and wait for a phone call to come and identify his 
body!"  She was surprised at herself, but you just didn't 
push her when it came to John Doggett. 
    Walter Skinner examined her over his low-riding 
glasses.  "I'm sorry, Agent Reyes, but like I told you 
before, he took a few personal days.  He needed some 
downtime, that's all.  Now, I would appreciate it if you 
would let me get back to work." 
    Monica stormed out of the office, just as she had 
entered.  Halfway down the hall, she slumped against the 
cold, concrete wall.  She felt defeated.  She knew damn 
well that John Doggett did *not* take personal time, and 
besides, he would have told her what was going on.  She 
stepped outside the front door and lit a much-needed 
cigarette.  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. 
    "Dana Scully." 
    "Dana, it's Monica.  I'm not getting anywhere on this. 
Have you heard anything?" 
    Dana's voice was full of concern.  "I'm afraid not, 
Monica.  He seems to have vanished, and AD Skinner has been 
less than forthcoming." 
    Monica smiled wryly as she reentered the building.  No 
wonder Skinner was short with her.  She wasn't the only one 
pressuring him for answers.  As she made her way into her 
basement office, she saw an envelope on her desk. 
    "Uh, Dana, I'll call you back."  She ripped open the 
envelope, and written on a nondescript piece of paper stuck 
inside were instructions: REFLECTING POOL, 5 PM 
    Monica hit redial on her phone, and was greeted by a 
breathless Dana Scully. 
    "Monica, I just got a note in my mailbox here at 
Quantico-" 
    "I know, Dana.  I just got one, too.  See you at 5?" 

    At exactly 4:58, Monica approached a bench occupied by 
a woman with a shock of red hair.  The Washington Monument 
loomed large to their right. 
    "Dana?"  Dana Scully turned around to meet her gaze. 
    "Well, I guess the gang's all here.  I'm wondering 
who's going to round out this trio." 
   Monica took a seat next to Dana and surveyed their 
surroundings.  When she turned around, she was shocked to 
see Walter Skinner approaching them. 
    "Uh, Dana-" Scully's hair whipped as her head spun to 
follow Monica's line of sight. 
    "Ladies, I'm going to make this short and sweet: 
Doggett is undercover."  Scully made a move to interject, 
but Skinner cut her off.  "Don't ask me the nature of the 
assignment; you know I can't tell you that.  What I can 
tell you is that he was alive and well as of this 
afternoon.  He is going by the alias Jim Grant.  He may try 
to contact one of you.  Keep your eyes and ears open."  And 
with that he left the two women with their mouths gaping. 
    After a few moments of stunned silence, Scully stood 
up.  "Monica, would you like to come over for dinner?  I 
think we need to talk about this."  Monica nodded her 
assent, and they began the walk back to their cars. 

    On the drive to Georgetown, Monica insides were 
roiling with emotion.  She was angry-no, she was *raging 
pissed*.  Pissed at John for leaving her in the dark, and 
pissed at her sense of helplessness.  She wasn't sure what 
she and Dana would accomplish by discussing the situation, 
but it was better than heading back to her new apartment 
and punching a hole in the wall. 

    Dana greeted Monica with William balanced in the crook 
of her arm.  Monica immediately started cooing. 
    "Oh, my goodness, look how big you've gotten!  You 
better not be giving Mom too much trouble, kiddo." 
    Dana smiled.  "Come on in.  Pizza's on the way." 
    Monica took a seat on Dana's entirely-too-comfortable 
couch.  She sunk into the cushions, letting them absorb a 
bit of her tension. 
    "Dana, I hope this isn't uncomfortable for you, but, 
well, how's William?  I mean, have you noticed anything 
strange recently?" 
    Dana joined her on the couch after putting William in 
his bassinet.  "Actually, no, but I'm also not around as 
much as I used to be.  My mother hasn't said anything to 
me, and frankly, I'm scared to mention it to her." 
    Monica smiled and patted Dana's arm.  "I'm sure 
everything's fine."  She jumped when she heard a beeping 
from her pocket.  She looked at her phone, and apparently, 
she had voicemail.  Funny, but she didn't remember it 
ringing. 
    "Dana, is there a way for someone to leave a voicemail 
without calling first?" 
    "Well, yes, if they know your access code."  *John*, 
Monica thought.  She wouldn't be surprised in the least if 
he knew her code.  She punched the magic numbers and turned 
up the volume on the phone so Dana could hear.  The voice 
was a familiar one, although the New York accent was toned 
down quite a bit, and the obvious nervousness in his voice 
seemed out of place. 
    "Uh, hi, I'm, um, trying to reach Monica Reyes.  This is 
Jim, Jim Grant.  Remember, we met last Wednesday on M 
Street near that polish sausage stand?  Well, I hope I'm 
not being too forward or anything, but I was wondering if, 
you know, you'd like to meet me for a drink sometime?  I'll 
be at Casey's in Georgetown tomorrow night around 7.  If 
you can make it, great.  If not, well, then, uh, I'll try 
you another time.  I hope to see you soon." 
    Monica had to stifle a laugh.  It was ingenious, she 
had to admit.  Not calling directly reduced the risk of 
anyone intercepting the call, and how he went out of his 
way to sound nervous was golden.  She looked over at Dana, 
whose left eyebrow was forming a high arch. 
    "Well, it looks like you have a date, Agent Reyes. 
Want me to help you pick out an outfit?" 


    Monica Reyes had been sitting in her car for twenty 
minutes, scoping out the block surrounding the bar. 
Although she had witnessed some heavy foot traffic, she had 
not seen John Doggett.  The thought began to cross her mind 
that it could be a trap.  She decided to go in armed. 

    She spotted him in a dim corner booth, nursing what 
looked like an Amstel Light.  He stood up when he saw her. 
He looked attractive in tight black jeans and an off-white 
ribbed sweater.  She had a weakness for men in sweaters, 
and she cursed him under her breath for wearing one.  This 
"first date" charade was beginning to feel a little too 
real. 
    His eyes took in her form, from her lightly tousled 
hair, coffee colored lips, black scoop neck blouse and 
flare khakis, to her heeled boots.  He was sure she had her 
gun tucked in one of them.  *That's my girl*.  "Monica, I'm 
glad you could make it.  It's nice to see you again."  He 
smiled at her, and she nearly melted.  She hadn't realized 
how worried she had been until she saw him in the flesh. 
She quickly regained control of her emotions. 
    "You too, Jim.  Thanks for calling.  How have things 
been since we last spoke?"  She knew they would have to 
play this game, and she also knew he would pick up on her 
innuendo. 
    "Well, okay, actually."  They engaged in some inane 
banter as a large group of giggling women shuffled by on 
their way to the bathroom.  John was playing the role of 
"man on a first date" very well, looking nervous and 
tripping over his words on occasion.  After about 10 
minutes, he began to look serious. 
    "Well, I have been having some trouble lately.  Well, 
not me actually, my sister.  She's a sweet woman, and she's 
gotten herself into some trouble.  She just had a baby," 
Monica snapped to attention-*Dana*, "and, well, the asshole 
that knocked her up ran off, and now she's afraid there's 
something wrong with the baby."  Now Monica was sure he was 
referring to Dana.  "Well, the damn HMO won't cover the 
tests the baby needs, so I've been working overtime to give 
her some breathing room, if you know what I mean."  Monica 
nodded.  He was doing this for Dana, for William.  But 
where did she fit in? 
    "Is there anything I can do to help, Jim?  I have some 
friends who are doctors." 
    "Well, thanks, Monica.  We really appreciate the 
gesture.  If I think of something, I'll be sure to let you 
know.  But right now, I think we have things under control. 
I should be able to go back to working my normal hours 
soon."  Monica relaxed in her booth seat.  He was okay, 
they were okay, and he would be coming back to her world 
soon enough.  *Her* world?  What was that, Monica? 
    After another half hour of playful flirting, which was 
a dangerous game in Monica's book, they decided it was time 
to end the "date."  John took her elbow as they exited the 
bar, shoving his other hand into the pocket of his jeans. 
He walked her to her car in silence, then, "I had a great 
time, Monica.  I hope we can do this again soon.  Maybe 
dinner next time?  I don't feel like I got a chance to know 
you very well over a couple of drinks." 
    She returned his smile, and looked up into his crystal 
blue eyes.  They were twinkling.  "I had a nice time, too, 
Jim.  I'm looking forward to your call, and getting to know 
you better as well."  Two could play at this game. 
    John turned his head suddenly and coughed into his 
hand.  Something seemed contrived about the motion, but 
Monica didn't have time to ponder it.  Suddenly, John's 
lips were on hers.  Her stomach did a flip as his hand 
snaked up to rest on the back of her neck.  He pulled her 
closer, and she fought to keep her eyes from popping open 
in surprise when she felt his tongue prodding her mouth. 
She opened her mouth to him, and as his tongue slipped 
between her lips, she felt something being passed from his 
mouth to hers.  It was a small cylinder, perhaps glass or 
plastic.  She wrapped her arms around him as she tucked the 
cylinder under her tongue.  Then she broke the kiss and 
pulled away gently, extremely reluctant to break contact. 
She hoped the emotion-oh hell, lust-he had inspired didn't 
show in her eyes. 
    "That was nice, Monica."  His voice was low and 
gravelly.  "I hope to have the opportunity to do that 
again."  She couldn't tell if he was still in character or 
not.  He pulled her into a gentle embrace, and as he pulled 
away, he whispered in her ear, "Gunmen."  She shivered as 
his breath hit her skin.  Answering him verbally was not an 
option with the "item" in her mouth.  Instead, she threw 
him a Mona Lisa smile and sauntered to her car.  He waved a 
little too enthusiastically as she pulled away from the 
curb, then went on his way. 

    Monica had been on the road for 20 minutes, and had 
backtracked three times to ensure she wasn't being 
followed.  Only then did she remove the cylinder from her 
mouth.  She examined it under the low light of the moon. 
It was a vial of some sort.  There was liquid inside.  She 
slipped it into her pocket, and backtracked a fourth time 
before heading over to the Lone Gunmen's lair. 

    "Whoa, foxy lady approaching!" she heard Melvin 
Frohike exclaim as the door opened. 
    "Thanks, Frohike."  She threw him a warm smile, and a 
silly grin emerged on his face.  "Guys, I need you to 
analyze something for me." 
    Byers took the vial from her hand.  "Where did you get 
this, Agent Reyes?" 
    Monica paused for a moment, considering how much to 
tell them.  Her fears were quickly dissipated.  These three 
goofballs cared for Mulder and Scully very much, and in 
turn, Mulder and Scully trusted them.  It was good enough 
for her.  "Agent Doggett gave it to me.  He's undercover. 
It has some connection to Scully's baby.  He told me to 
take it directly to you guys." 
    Langley smiled.  "I knew there was a reason I liked 
Agent Dogbert."  He yawned and stretched, distorting the 
Ramones logo on his t-shirt.  "We'll get started on this 
now, Agent Reyes.  You can stick around if you want, but 
it's gonna take a while." 
    Frohike eyed her with anticipation.  "You're more than 
welcome to spend the night here, Agent Reyes." 
    Monica suppressed a fit of laughter.  "Thanks, guys, 
but I should get going.  I have a few people I need to talk 
to.  I'm sure you'll protect whatever's in that vial?" 
    Byers looked up from the computer screen.  "It's in 
good hands, Agent Reyes.  We'll be in touch." 

     As she turned back toward Georgetown, Monica pulled 
out her phone and dialed Skinner's number. 
    "Skinner." 
    "Hi, sir.  Just wanted to let you know, I had a date 
tonight." 
    "Agent Reyes?" 
    "It was that guy I told you about, Jim Grant.  I had a 
wonderful time, and at the end of the night, he slipped me 
a little something, if you know what I mean!"  She couldn't 
believe she was saying this to her boss.  She silently 
prayed that he understood her meaning, and didn't think she 
had gone completely nuts.  She couldn't risk blowing John's 
cover over a cellular line. 
    "I'm glad to hear it, Agent Reyes.  Uh, by the way, 
our friend Melvin called.  He invited us over for breakfast 
tomorrow morning.  I know we have to work at 9, but I 
thought it would be good to see him again.  How's 8:00? 
Oh, by the way, this is a *private* party." 
    Thank goodness, he understood.  He must have known 
what John had been after, and that the Gunmen would 
eventually be getting it.  They would meet them the next 
morning.  He also didn't seem to want Dana to know 
anything.  "Sounds fine, sir.  See you then."  As she 
started to put her phone back in her purse it rang in her 
hand. 
    "Agent Reyes." 
    "Monica, it's Dana.  How was your date tonight?" 
    Damn.  She had to tell her something.  "It was fine. 
He looked really good, despite all of the overtime he's 
been putting in lately.  But he seems to think he'll be 
back to normal shortly." 
    She heard Dana breathe a sigh of relief.  "Glad to 
hear it, Monica.  Keep me posted, okay?" 
    Monica couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.  Dana 
didn't push her for information; she knew better.  But this 
involved the health of Dana's child.  Whatever was in that 
vial must be pretty damn important. 

    Monica slept fitfully that night.  She had a recurring 
nightmare about walking into Casey's.  Instead of finding 
John waiting for her in that corner booth, she saw a 
rotting corpse.  Needless to say, she was up and ready to 
go by 6:30.  She knew better than to ignore her instincts, 
and began to fear that John was in trouble. 
    Her phone began to beep from her pocket. Another 
mysterious voicemail.  Her heart was in her throat as she 
dialed into her mailbox. 
    The message was short, and his voice was strained, 
"16th and Church."  The line went dead.  After a moment of 
silence, she leapt into action. 
    "Skinner." 
    "Sir, Agent Doggett is in trouble.  16th and Church. 
I'm on my way.  Send backup." 
    "Agent Reyes, don't do anything stupid.  Wait for us!" 
She was already running out the door, phone tucked in her 
jacket. 

    Her tires squealed to a halt at 15th and Church. 
Monica cautiously exited her car and walked the block, gun 
drawn.  It was eerily deserted.  When she arrived at the 
next corner, she realized she had four options.  Three were 
shops, and the fourth was a dilapidated apartment building. 
Seemed like a no-brainer. 
    She carefully eased the door open, her head whipping 
to take in her surroundings.  It was quiet.  *Too quiet*, 
she thought with a silent laugh.  The building looked to be 
about four or five stories, and she had no idea where to 
start.  She decided on the basement; she would start there, 
and work her way up.  Where the hell was her backup? 
    The basement smelled earthy and musty, and it was 
dark.  She pulled out her flashlight and shone it around 
the room.  It seemed empty, so she proceeded into the next 
one.  After going through three doorways and finding 
nothing, she began to lose hope.  Then she heard it: a 
faint moan.  It was coming from behind her.  She shone her 
light into a corner, and she saw what looked like a pile of 
dirty rags-except that it was moving. 
    Monica closed her eyes.  She felt him reaching out to 
her, calling to her.  It was John, she was sure of it. 
*There's nothing like a life-threatening situation to 
heighten psychic sensibilities*.  She holstered her gun and 
began throwing the clothes off the pile.  She uncovered a 
hand-battered, bruised, but familiar.  She heard another 
groan and began to work in earnest.  She finally uncovered 
his face.  He was bruised, beaten.  He looked almost as bad 
as when she found him in Mexico. 
    She swallowed the knot of panic that had formed in her 
throat and cupped his cheek with her hand.  "John?  John, 
it's Monica.  John, can you hear me?  John?"  Her thumb 
caressed his cheek, and he began to stir. 
   "Monica?" he croaked.  Suddenly he jerked awake as if 
hit by an electric shock.  "Mon, we have to get out of 
here, NOW!"  He struggled to stand, but fell futilely 
against her.  This wasn't going to be easy. 
    "John, you're hurt, probably drugged.  What's going 
on?" 
    "It's a trap.  There's a bomb.  They want to destroy 
the chip.  We have to-" His eyes began to glaze over. 
    "JOHN!  Stay with me, John!  I need you to get up!" 
She threw her weight underneath his body and pulled him, 
body protesting, to his feet.  What the hell was he talking 
about?  What chip?  She heard sirens wailing outside. 
*Finally*. 
    With all of her strength, she pushed Doggett, 
stumbling, up the stairs.  As they lurched out of the main 
door of the building, she screamed at the waiting agents, 
"There's a bomb!  Get back, get-" She felt the ground 
rumble, then a wave of heat hit her in the back, throwing 
she and Doggett hurtling into the air. 
    "JOHN!"  She hit the ground, hard, and as the impact 
pushed the air out of her lungs, her world went black. 


    Monica Reyes felt her eyelids being pried open and a 
bright light being shone in.  She tried to roll her head to 
the side to avoid the blinding light accosting her suddenly 
fragile eyes. 
    "Monica?  Monica?"  It was Dana Scully's voice. 
"Monica, how do you feel?" 
    She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't seem to 
get any sound out.  She felt Dana's hand behind her neck, 
lifting her head to drink from a waiting cup.  She 
swallowed, and suddenly it hit her-*John*.  She bolted 
upright in the hospital bed, her body screaming in pain at 
the motion.  Her vision began to white out, and she fought 
to stay conscious. 
    "John!  Where's John?  Is he okay?" she slurred. 
Scully laid a hand on her arm and gently eased her back 
against the pillows. 
    "He was hurt, Monica, but it looks like he'll be okay. 
The explosion only happened a couple of hours ago.  He 
still hasn't regained consciousness, but he's also still 
feeling the effects of the drugs he was given.  I think 
that helped him, actually.  His body wasn't as tense when 
it hit the ground, and he avoided serious injury.  You, on 
the other hand, have a couple of cracked ribs and a pretty 
nasty bump on your head, but you'll be fine."  She smiled 
warmly.  "There were three other agents hurt, but none 
severely.  All in all, I'd say everyone was quite lucky. 
It looks like the apartment building had been empty for 
some time; it could have been much worse." 
    Walter Skinner entered the room. "Agent Reyes, I'm 
glad you're awake."  His jaw was set.  "That was a pretty 
stupid thing you did today, going into that building 
alone." 
    "I'm not sorry, sir," Reyes croaked in response.  "If 
I hadn't gone in there, Agent Doggett would have died." 
    Skinner turned to Scully.  "Agent Scully, would you 
mind leaving us for a moment?" 
    Dana raised her eyebrow, but nodded and walked out 
toward Agent Doggett's room. 
    "Sir, I know I disobeyed an order, but-" 
    "That's not what I'm concerned about, Agent Reyes.  I 
knew you were going in there no matter what I said.  You 
saved Agent Doggett's life.  I don't want to have the whole 
'means versus ends' conversation right now."  Monica 
relaxed a bit.  He continued, "I talked to the Gunmen. 
That vial you gave them, it contained a microchip, almost 
identical to the one that cured Scully's cancer.  What did 
Doggett tell you?" 
    Monica was shocked.  Then she remembered, before the 
explosion, John had said something about "them" wanting to 
destroy the chip in the explosion.  She quickly filled 
Skinner in, adding that she believed the chip had something 
to do with baby William.  His eyes widened. 
    "I knew this had something to do with Scully and the 
baby, but what's the chip all about?  I don't like this, 
Agent Reyes." 
    "I just wish I knew what was going on, sir." 

    Scully peeked her head back through the doorway. 
"Monica?  Agent Doggett's awake.  He seems to be fine, just 
a bit groggy." 
    "When can I see him?" she asked a little too urgently. 
    "Give yourself some time, Monica.  You need to sleep. 
Don't worry, he's in better shape than you are."  Scully 
smiled, then ushered Skinner out of the room to let her 
sleep.  Monica was out before the door closed. 

    She was running out of the building.  Flames were 
everywhere.  She turned to John; she was holding his hand. 
She screamed.  He was engulfed in flames- 
    She bolted upright, wincing with the pain.  She tried 
to raise her hands to her face-something was holding her 
right hand.  She started to flail, then, 
    "Monica, calm down!  It's okay!  It's me, John." 
    She opened her eyes, and found his steely blue ones 
locked on hers.  She looked down where her hand was trapped 
under his, and back up to his concerned face.  His left arm 
was in a sling, and his face was bruised, but he seemed 
okay.  She smiled. 
    "You have no idea how glad I am to see you in one 
piece." 
    He met her eyes, and she was shocked to see tears 
pooling there.  "Monica, if it hadn't been for you, I-" 
    She squeezed his hand, cutting him off.  "John, what 
happened out there?" 
    He sighed heavily.  "Four days ago, I was contacted by 
someone who claimed to have information about Agent 
Scully's baby, about what was goin' on with him.  I talked 
to Skinner, and we agreed I should go underground for a few 
days and see what I could find out.  The guy claimed to be 
connected to the military somehow, and he gave me that vial 
that I, uh, well, you know." He was blushing, and Monica had 
to resist the urge to giggle.  His face suddenly became 
deadly serious. 
    "He told me the other babies hadn't lived very long." 
Shock registered on Monica's face.  There were others? 
    John continued, "William is different, being that he 
has two human parents," he couldn't believe he was saying 
this, "but according to this guy, it's inevitable that 
he'll get sick, and most likely not live through his first 
year.  Whatever it is about him that's 'altered,' it's a 
technology that hasn't been perfected."  He paused to gauge 
Monica's reaction. 
    "So, John, where does the chip fit in?" 
    "Apparently, if it's implanted when William starts 
getting sick, it'll cure him."  Monica gasped, then a 
completely inappropriate thought crossed her mind: Like 
mother, like son.  This was twisted. 
    "John, what happened to you?  Who put you in that 
building?" 
    He laughed dryly.  "Good question, Monica.  I went 
back to my hotel room, fell asleep, and next thing I 
remember, I was comin' to in the back seat of some car.  I 
couldn't see who was drivin'.  They had a shield up between 
the front and back seats.  I asked what the hell I was 
doin' there, and whoever it was told me they wanted the 
chip.  Apparently they had searched my room.  But of 
course, they didn't find it."  The grin on his face was 
full of mischief, and his eyes twinkled.  She was sure that 
smile had kept his parents from killing him countless times 
when he was a child.  He cleared his throat and continued 
somberly, "They figured out pretty quickly that I had 
gotten rid of it, and once they figured out who I was, it 
was pretty easy to look up my partner.  The message I left 
you was genuine. Monica.  I never intended to get you into 
any trouble," he let out a shaky sigh.  "I was able to see 
where we were going, and now that I think about it, they 
wanted me to call you.  It was too damn easy!  They knew 
that if I had the chance, I would call someone for help, 
and they knew it would be you.  Dollars to donuts, they 
left my cell phone in my jacket just for that reason!  They 
used me to lure you into that building.  They didn't count 
on you letting the chip out of your sight.  They figured 
you'd show up, the bomb would go off, and we'd be killed 
and the chip destroyed.  Easy come, easy go, huh?"  He was 
angry, angry with himself for putting her in danger. 
    Monica reached out and rubbed his forearm.  "John, you 
did a good thing.  What you did could save William's life, 
could give him the chance to *start* his life.  I got to 
you in time, John.  We got out alive.  That's all the 
matters."  He disentangled his hand from hers and cupped 
her cheek with his hand.  She leaned into it, nuzzling his 
palm. 
    "You have a funny way of remindin' me what matters, 
Monica Reyes," he whispered.  John leaned over, his face 
hovering just inches from hers.  "How many times have you 
saved my ass?  I owe you, Monica.  I'll always be watchin' 
out for you, no matter what." 
    Monica smiled, trying to control her breathing.  "I 
know, John." 
    He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers.  "So, how 
'bout that dinner offer?"  Monica's eyes fluttered closed 
as John pressed his lips to hers in a light kiss.  It was 
over too quickly, and when she opened her eyes, he was 
still there, still incredibly close.  She moved forward to 
kiss him again, but was stopped short as an incredible pain 
shot through her. 
    "Dammit!" she hissed through clenched teeth.  John put 
his hand behind her neck and eased her back onto the 
pillows. 
    "Mon, take it easy!  It can wait."  He leaned forward 
and kissed her forehead, running his hand through her hair. 
    After the pain subsided, she asked, "Has anyone talked 
to Dana?  Does she know about this?" 
    "Skinner talked to her this afternoon.  She's a little 
shell-shocked, and of course, worried sick about William. 
I feel horrible about this.  I mean, did I really help her? 
Now every time the poor kid gets a sniffle she's gonna 
wonder, 'Is this it?  Is it time?'  And what if the chip 
isn't what it seems?"  He ran his hand through his hair and 
down over his face. 
    Monica reached out and took his hand from his face, 
holding it tightly in her own.  "John, you did the right 
thing.  Whatever happens, you did the right thing.  You're 
an amazing man, John."  She stroked the back of his hand 
with her thumb.  His cheeks reddened. 
    "Thanks, Mon."  He cleared his throat nervously. 
"Listen, you need to rest.  I'm checking out of here 
tonight, and it looks like you can leave tomorrow morning. 
I'll pick you up?" 
    "Thanks, John.  As early as possible, okay?" 
    He smiled, and kissed the back of her hand.  "I 
promise." 


    She sat in her hospital gown, choking down the 
hospital's version of breakfast, when she heard a knock. 
    "For the love of God, come in!" 
    John smiled at her as he opened the door.  "Bored 
already?"  He placed a duffel bag on the bottom of her bed 
with his good arm.  "I stopped by your place this morning. 
Thought you might need a change of clothes.  Guess that key 
came in handy, huh?" 
    She smiled gratefully.  She started to ease herself 
out of bed.  She moved gingerly, and John watched for a 
moment before asking, 
    "You need some help there?"  His eyes were teasing. 
    "Dammit, John, will you just get me out of this bed!" 
He ran to her side and helped place her upright.  "Geez, 
Monica, I never thought I'd hear you say *that*." 
    She threw him a sideways grin, "Yeah, well, if you 
didn't think to bring me a button-down shirt, you're going 
to hear a lot more shocking things coming out of my mouth." 
     "Don't worry, Monica, I've been there.  You won't be 
able to lift your arms over your head for a while.  Here." 
He handed her the bag.  "I'll wait outside." 

    The pants were struggle, but luckily he packed sweats. 
As she was buttoning her shirt he knocked. 
    "Ya decent?" 
    "Yes, come on in John.  Now, turn back around.  We're 
leaving." 

    On the ride back to Georgetown, Monica learned that 
John and Skinner had gone to visit Dana the previous 
evening.  She had surprised them with tearful hugs of 
thanks. 
    "Does she believe it, John?  I mean, any of it?" 
    "I don't know, but I don't think that was her point. 
She was just thankful we took that chance." 
    "What are we going to do with the chip?" 
    "Don't worry, Monica.  It's safe.  It's in excellent 
hands.  If the time comes, it'll be there.  You know, Mon, 
I held William last night.  The little bugger fell asleep 
in my arms.  He seems perfect.  If someone told me that boy 
wouldn't live to see his first birthday, I'd tell them 
they're nuts.  What kind of monsters are we dealin' with 
here, Mon?  I just can't understand any of this."  He 
sighed heavily.  He seemed older, the lines on his face 
deepening. 
    "I don't know, John, but if they see the lives of 
babies as expendable, I'm scared of what else they're 
capable of.  But John," she started, lightly laying her 
hand on his injured shoulder, "we'll deal with them 
together." 
    He turned his head briefly to smile at her.  The lines 
on his face softened a bit. 
    Minutes later, they pulled up in front of her 
apartment building.  As he helped her out of the car, she 
couldn't help but remark, "Nice one-armed driving there, 
champ." 
    He grinned widely.  "Thanks.  Took lessons from 
Krycek." 
    She laughed out loud, and laughed for a long time.  It 
hurt like hell, but she couldn't help herself.  She leaned 
forward against his body for support, talking into his 
chest, "Don't do that to me!  My ribs will never forgive 
you!" 
    "Don't pretend you don't love it, Monica," he replied 
jokingly. 
    She looked up into his face, meeting his eyes.  Her 
smile was gone.  "I never have, John." 
    As the meaning of her words sank in, he leaned 
forward, bringing his face to hers.  This time the kiss was 
harder, longer, and more needy.  His hand wrapped around to 
cradle the back of her head, and her hands came to rest on 
his hips.  Monica tried to deepen the kiss, but John broke 
it off, realizing they were still standing out on the 
street.  Disappointment was evident in her eyes. 
    "Sorry, Mon.  We should get you inside."  He reached 
out his hand to her and she took it in her own, squeezing 
tightly. 
    "Listen, when you're feeling better, I mean it about 
that dinner."  Her smile widened.  He was such a gentleman. 
    "Okay, but you know how cracked ribs can be.  I'm 
going to be out of commission for a while.  What am I going 
to do with all of my spare time?" 
    He unlocked the door to her apartment and escorted her 
inside.  She turned to face him.  "So?" 
    He smiled, his eyes twinkling yet again.  "I thought I 
might stick around for a while, help you out a bit.  You 
know, showerin's a real bitch; just can't seem to reach 
your hair, ya know?  Thought you might need some help with 
that."  He grinned, and once again Monica got images of a 
towheaded boy with his hand in the cookie jar. 
    "Well, it's been a crazy couple of days.  I was 
thinking of taking a bath instead."  She met his eyes.  The 
game was on. 
    In a surprising move, he conceded defeat.  He stepped 
closer until there were mere inches between them, then 
lowered his lips to hers.  The kiss quickly grew 
passionate, and their hands began roving over one another's 
body.  This time Monica broke the kiss.  Breathing heavily, 
she stared into his eyes.  They were dark with desire, his 
lips moist.  She took his hand and began the seemingly long 
walk to the bathroom.  He followed wordlessly, mesmerized. 
Halfway there, Monica turned to face him. 
    "Um, you know I can't do any *strenuous* activity, 
right?"  She was nervous, and horribly annoyed at her body 
for being so *breakable*. 
    He smiled wickedly. "Don't worry.  I was just going to 
tease you anyway." 
    She gasped in mock horror.  "John Doggett!" 
    His smile widened.  "Yeah, I figured you'd be 
screaming that sooner or later." 
    She laughed, and, grabbing his hand, practically 
skipped her way to the bathroom.  She and John had finally 
taken that leap.  She was going to enjoy this, cracked ribs 
or no cracked ribs.  It had been a good couple of days. 
Yeah, they had almost been killed, but they may have saved 
a child's life.  If that was what it took to bring them 
together, she wasn't going to miss this chance. 
    "Medical advice my ass," she muttered, turning to kiss 
him again.  This time, neither broke it off.