Title:  New Beginnings
Author:  Warm Fuzzies
Rating:  NC-17
Spoilers:  Absolutely nothing of season 9 happened after 
Audrey Pauley.
Keywords: DRR, post-colonization
Summary:  In the last couple of days, I've lived through 
a systematic decimation of the earth, almost losing the 
man I love... twice... and have been reaffirmed in my 
life.  In the midst of all the pain, death and loss, 
I'm seeing something foreign.  It's so out of place in 
this world now that it's painful to look at, but it's a 
pain I'm willing to suffer.  I'm seeing joy.  Hope.  
Love.  Faith.
Disclaimer:  You see, if these characters were actually 
mine, I would have much more fun than I'm having right 
now.  Any names you recognize belong to somebody else 
and all the ones you don't belong to me.

Author's notes: This is turning into something other 
than I imagined.  I don't know where it's coming from, 
and I hope that it doesn't just quit on me, but I'll 
write until it does.  A lot of this is illogical in how 
the history is supposed to go, and I'll admit that I 
don't go into a lot of the detail that I could, but if 
you keep an open mind... I think that it flow's pretty 
well.  Keep in mind that it switches from Doggett's POV 
to Reyes' POV systematically.

I hope you enjoy it... enough to send me feed back.  
warm_fuzzies_28@hotmail.com



Part ONE of NEW BEGINNINGS



I'm a chicken.  Actually, I think that I would qualify 
for a headless chicken, with the way that I ran around 
tonight.  Only by the will of God did any of it 
actually prove anything.

And Monica is still alive.

Thank you God.

I might even find religion after what this night put 
me through.  And I still can't leave her side.

She woke up almost four hours ago, now, and after her 
whispered warning that Audrey was in danger, she fell 
almost immediately back into sleep.  And I could barely 
pull myself away from her side to go check on the aide.

And I think, that maybe, just maybe, if I had run to 
Audrey as soon as Monica had whispered her name, she 
might still be alive.  But that prick Preiers got to her 
before I could.  Fuck, was he ever scared when I found 
him down there.  I could see the way his eyes were round 
and despondent when he realized that it was me who had 
found him out.

What kind of bastard poisons people like the way he did?  
What would the point be?  The people that he had worked 
on, and consequently killed, could have been revived.  
It doesn't make any sense.

I shift on the freakingly uncomfortable chair and reset 
my grip on Monica's hand.  Noticing that they're a lot 
warmer now than they were six or seven hours ago.

She's going to live.

The door opens behind me and I turn to see Skinner 
standing just inside the door.

"How's she doing?"  he asks quietly as he closes the 
door behind him to cut off the busy hallway.  He moves 
so stand at the end of her bed and I turn my eyes back 
to her face, marred by tubes and tape.  "Doctors say 
that it'll be another two or three days before she can 
get out."

"S'Okay.  She's going to leave.  That's all that 
matters."  Consciously, I rubbed my thumb across her 
hand and I couldn't help the small smile that broke 
over my features.

I heard Skinner sigh and pick up her chart, probably 
just for something to do with his hands.  I had no 
idea how he handled the agents that he got.  First 
Mulder falls in love with Scully, and vice versa... 
and then there's me and Monica.  What are the 
possibilities?

"I think that you should go home and sleep, John.  
You're not looking so good."

Ahhh, but the exterior can't reflect the interior.  
I'm so happy right now.

She's going to live.

"I feel good, sir.  I'm still sitting on my 
adrenaline high.  The cops finally left me alone an 
hour ago, after hauling that bastard off."  I sighed 
and dragged my eyes from Monica's face to Skinner's, 
knowing that he knew how to read faces as good as any 
of them.  I think he learned that from years mentoring
Mulder and Scully, the masters of masks.  I'm actually 
kind of glad that he knows how to do that, cause when 
I'm tempted to lie, I can't.

thinking of the cops and their questions, I think of 
Scully.  I hope she's gone home.  She's shouldn't have 
left William for that long with her mother.  She does 
that too often.

"Did Scully go home?"  I ask, still looking at him 
over my shoulder.

"Yeah.  I caught her on my way in.  told her to take 
today off and spend it with William."  He sounds tender 
when he mentions the boy's name.  "You too.  You're not 
coming into the office today."  He quirks and eyebrow 
at me, making sure I accept.

Oh, please, twist my arm a little more.

I smile.  "Thank you sir."

He cocks his head to the side in acknowledgment of my 
thanks and then turns towards the door.  He stops with 
his hand on the doorknob and looks back to me, catching 
my eyes before I turn back to Monica.  "Try and rest, 
John.  You really do look like shit."

I chuckle, not really caring, but thanking him for the 
hidden sentiment.  He realizes that I'm not going to 
leave this bedside until she leaves it.  except for 
the necessary times,  I suppose.  "I know.  I'm going 
to wait until she wakes up, then I'll go home."

"Liar."  He says softly, but without reprimand.  He 
understands.  He went through this a lot with Mulder 
and Scully.  He knows how to handle this well.  "I'll 
stop by later on my way home."  And then he's gone.

Good Lord, it's 7 in the morning.

Ah well.

I sigh and settle back on to the chair, keeping a hold 
on her hand and relaxing for the first time since I got 
the call from the hospital.

Maybe I am tired...

********

He's still here.  I doubt if he's left yet, even once, 
to get changed or anything like that.  Dependable and 
reliable he is.  I smile at the way that his eyes move 
in his sleep.

He can't be comfortable in that chair.

But I'm so tired and I don't have the heart to wake 
him.

I'll apologize tomorrow.

************

I can see her pause at the door and look in, shifting 
the baby carrier that she's holding.  I hope he's asleep 
in there.  But then I don't think that she'd bring an 
upset baby into the hospital.  Monica'll like to see 
William when she wakes up.

Scully catches me as she walks in, a disciplinary scowl 
on her face.   What'd I do?

"John, you look horrible."

"Gee, thanks, Scully, it's nice to see you too."  It's 
funny that though she's taken to calling me John during 
off hours, she's always Scully.  I sigh as I grab my 
coat off the back of the chair and take a last, long 
look at Monica before heading home to clean up and maybe 
even sleep.

As I go to pass her to get out the door, she lays a 
gentle hand on my arm and looks me straight in the eye, 
those eyes that you can't deny and can't hide very much 
from.

"There's never the perfect moment, or the perfect day, 
John.  Times like this have to make you realize that."  
She looks at Monica who's still sleeping with the oxygen 
tube under her nose.  I hate it, and adore it, how she 
can just dissect your heart in an instant, yet not make 
it seem like a vivisection.

I stare at her for a moment and then at the woman on the
bed, a heavy sigh escaping my lips.

"I'm scared," I admit, shocking myself.

A tender smile emerges from her face, and I know that 
she understands what I'm thinking.

"It's a reason, but not a big enough one, John.  You have 
to tell her, or it'll eat you up.  I know."  She shrugs 
her shoulders sympathetically and gives my forearm a 
small squeeze.  "There isn't a  perfect moment, John, 
just remember that.  Take the first chance you get.  Take 
it from the one who experienced it too.  Fear isn't good 
enough to cause you pain."  And then she let's me go and 
I go home in a little bit of a daze.

*******************

I can't believe that happened.  He just said good night.  
Good God, after the little shpiel on him being a dog 
person, I would have thought that he would have done 
something other than just drop me off.  Three days of 
endlessly sitting by my bed and talking with me, about 
everything and nothing.  It was so good.  And he only 
left when Scully was there.  I knew that something was 
going to give...  it had too.

I almost died.

They were going to pull the plug.

He didn't believe them.

Mr. Skeptic himself didn't believe that I was dead.

Even when all those scientific gizmo's and people were 
saying there wasn't a hope.

Why?

I go to the window and look out, hoping to catch his 
tail lights as he drives off.  But he's still sitting 
there, and the UV isn't even turned on.

I turn and pick up the phone, hitting redial, remembering 
that the last call I made was to invite him out for a 
beer.  What a leap of faith that had been.

[John Doggett.] He answers, and I see him shift in the 
car.

"Why didn't you think I was dead?"  I don't need to 
introduce myself, I think he knew that it was going to 
be me.

I hear him sigh and wait for him to digest my question; 
I can almost hear the gears going in his head, trying 
to find the words he needs to give me an answer.

[I just... knew.  I didn't question it.  and I think... 
I know that I didn't want it to be true.]   he sounds 
defeated and I can literally feel my heart ache for him.  
Audrey's words came to me... your friend...he loves you 
a lot.  God, I hope so, I pray fervently.

"Come up for coffee."  I swallow, again, watching his 
movement in the car.  "I don't ... want to be alone, 
yet."

[Monica...]  I know he'll accept, but I think that he's 
scared of something.  [I don't know what to do... I 
think I'm scared.]

he admitted it.  wow.  That's weird.  But now I really, 
really want him to come up for coffee... or a talk.

"Please, John, just get out of the car and get up here."  
I know that I'm almost begging, but I also know that 
it'll take an act of God for me to not get him up here.

There's silence for a little bit and I hear him 
breathing over the phone.  Even that's comforting to 
me.

[Why?]

It's quiet and so full of emotion that I can almost 
see the tears in his eyes.  I know that I can feel 
mine.  This is it, I realize, this is the act of God 
to get him up here, and all it takes is a small breath 
and a little confession that I've been harboring for 
a couple of months...

"Because I... because I love you too."

Wow, that felt unrealistically good.  I think that 
I'll have to say that more often.

There's a chuff of disbelief and joy from the other 
end.  [You... unreal.  I was expecting something 
abstract along the lines of you being a dog person 
too.]  He chuckles happily and I can almost feel his 
smile through the phone line.  [But that works just 
fine too.  I'll be up in a few seconds.]

And then there's a click on the other side and I see him 
hop out of the car and close the door.  I watch him as 
he pauses and looks up to my window, catching my eyes in 
the darkness.

Just get up here, John.

************

She said it.  She actually did.  My heart is fit to 
burst, and with slow realization, as I catch her eyes 
in the darkness of her apartment, I forgot to tell her 
the same.

All the more reason to get back up there.

I take the stairs three at a time and I don't even 
bother with the elevator, heading for the stairs and 
taking those two at a time, I'm on her floor in no 
time.

As my knuckles connect with her door, I'm gripped by 
some unknown fear that came out of nowhere.  What's 
going to come of this night?  I love her and she loves 
me, but where does that leave us?  There are so many 
things that...

My thoughts are interrupted when she opens the door.  
We stare at each other for a moment and then a smile 
spread across my face.  God, I love her.

"I love you too."

A smile explodes on her face, making her absolutely 
the most enchanting creature I have ever seen.

She steps back and lets me in.  I know that whenever 
I've been in this apartment, I've always had something 
to talk to her about, but now I'm struck dumb.  She 
closes the door and as she walks by me, she grabs my 
hand and pulls me along with her.  She stops in front 
of her couch and lays a light hand on my chest, 
pushing me back to sit down.

I fall back slightly and shift to get comfortable and 
watch her settle next to me, a little closer than she 
normally would have.  I don't think that I could stop 
smiling if I wanted to.  But I don't really want to, 
so I'll just keep smiling.

"So..."  That's highly intelligent, I know, but I think 
that she taken away any capacity for me to for anything
more than one syllable.

She huffs and eyes me the same way she did when she 
walked up here earlier.  It's almost like she wants me 
to do something.  That thought I had in the hallway 
outside of her hospital room comes back and I really, 
really suddenly want to kiss her.

**********

"So..."

I wish that he would stop looking so adorable right now.   
He looks a little like a confused puppy who doesn't 
know if he's done something right or wrong and is 
waiting for something to be said from it's master.  I 
huff a little and look at him, seeing if there's any 
difference between him and the man that I dropped off 
three days ago.

Well, he's still a dog person.

"I was right."

"Hmmm?"  He hums, and I decide that I really like that 
sound.  I swear that I've heard and seen everything 
that he's doing right now a thousand times, but for 
some reason it's just now that they are starting to 
hit me as endearing and adorable.

"You're a dog person."

His grin breaks into a smile.  "That's good to know."  
He shifts, bringing his left leg onto the couch and 
hooking his foot beneath his right knee, so that he 
ends up facing me.  "I think you are too.  Maybe a 
Doberman... or even a Rottweiler."

I must look shocked.  What a joke.  I laugh at him and 
try to picture his perfect dog.  My eyes narrow at the 
playful look on his face.  "Well, I guess I should be 
happy that you didn't say something like a shitzu or 
boxer or something."

He looks shocked for a minute and I think that he 
thought I took it differently than he intended.  I 
didn't, I don't think, but I want to hear him apologize 
for that slip.

"God, no.  You're too beautiful for that."

Well.

I must say that that's an adequate apology.   I didn't 
think that I could blush and smile at the same time.

But there I go.

The silence falls for a minute and it rests somewhere 
between comfortable and just plain silence.

"What are you scared of?"  I don't even know where it 
came from, but I think that I desperately need to know.  
And I hope that I can fix it.

His eyes close and his head falls forward.  I reach 
forward and rest my hand on the side of his face.  I 
rub my thumb across his cheek in an attempt to get his 
attention and realize that he shaved before he came 
and picked me up.  Nothing got by him on his attention 
to detail.  I wonder if that means that he was wanting 
something to happen, or he just wanted to look clean.

And then I remember the four seconds beside his UV 
where we were looking at each other before saying good 
night.  Something was scaring him off.  He wanted
something...

"What if we end up like Mulder and Scully, Monica?  I 
don't know if I could handle that; being away from 
you,"  he reaches up and takes my hand in his,  "from 
this for so long.  I can see the wear that it's having
on Scully.  I don't want that to happen to you."  He 
catches my eye and leans down a little to place a 
small gentle kiss on the center of my palm.  I think 
I just felt my heart break.  Either that or it got 
sucked through a tiny black hole in the center of my 
being.

"I love you, John," I'm saying that now because I 
can... and I like the sound of it,  "what else can we 
need?"

"To be together.  There's so much at risk here.  And I 
know it's worth it, but the potential for pain is so 
high."

"So it's a matter of enjoying what we have.  You saw 
Scully when Mulder was here. And vice versa.  They were 
each other's universe."  I link my fingers with his and
smile gently at the way that his eyes contradict his 
words.  All I can see is love and desire.  Unexpectedly, 
I break into a huge yawn.  Even before I'm done, I know 
that he's going to feel guilty for keeping me up, and 
I'm shaking my head as my maw snaps shut.  "Yes, I'm 
tired.  Yes, I'm sore.  But I don't want to be alone."

He's still going to protest and try to be noble, I just 
know it.  "Of course you're tired."  He moves to stand 
up, obviously completely ignoring the last sentence that 
I said.  I smile down into my lap.  "I'll get going 
then.  Skinner gave you tomorrow but I've got to go..."

"I don't want to be alone, John."  I state clearly, 
looking him straight in the eye from my spot on the 
couch.

"But, Monica, I..."

"No."  I didn't know I could be so forceful.  Really.  
After all, this would put a lot of pressure on him.  
"Couldn't you just stay?  Just hold me?"  And I can 
feel the butterflies take flight.

*********

Talk about indecision.  She's granting me permission to 
do something I've wanted since I realized that I loved 
her.  But then again she just got out of the hospital.  
I know that, as much as I want it, nothing else would 
happen, but even to hold her for the night...

"I want to, Monica, believe me... but I don't think I 
could without..."  I trail off, feeling a little 
embarrassed.  We've never, ever talked about this with 
each other, but I know without a doubt that we will now.

And then she smiles at me so gently and endearingly that 
no matter what comes up, so to speak, there is nothing 
that would stop me from holding her tonight.  And when 
the decision it made, I wonder why I even considered not 
accepting it.

"Well, if you're worried about that, then you have 
absolutely no idea that I won't just jump you in the 
middle of the night, do you?"

My heart just stopped.  What the hell?  Well, if she can 
joke about it, then so can I, right?

And I would, really, but I don't think that I have the 
mental capacity to speak.  Now I seriously have to kiss 
her or I think I might just break something.  How did I 
become so volatile all of a sudden?

And as I reach down and grab her hand to haul her to her 
feet, I think I actually growl.  "Look at what you're 
doing to me... and I haven't even kissed you yet."

She proudly stands before me, mere inches from my mouth 
and looks in to my soul.

"No, you haven't, have you?"  Her question hovers between 
demanding and begging for something, or someone, me, to 
rectify that situation.  And I don't have enough control 
left to stop myself.

It's harsh and hungry and everything I didn't want our 
first kiss to be.  But the fire's lit and soon burning 
out of my control, and from the looks and sounds of it, 
hers too.  The tenderness that my heart is begging for 
is being overridden by the desire that my body is 
screaming with.  And I think that the fact that she's 
giving as good as she's getting isn't helping my 
restraint at all.  And I can feel all the bodily 
responses springing into good form as the fight between 
our mouths continues.  I've... got... to... stop.

I harshly tear my mouth from hers and close my eyes to 
the torturously beautiful face that looks questioningly 
at me.  "If all you want is for me to hold you then you 
have to stop."  Her hand comes to my face and guides me 
back to look at her.  "Please, Monica, now?"

She smiles at me. "Right now, more than anything I would 
love to continue this, but I don't think that my body can 
handle it."  I am positive that she can see the 
disappointment on my face, but I don't think that there 
was anything I could have done to hide the fact that I 
really wanted to continue.   She smiles and runs her 
hand down my arms to grab my hand.  "Can you still 
stay?"

"Yes."  I answer, before I think over how hard this is 
going to be.  No pun intended.  "And it's not that I can, 
it's that I want to that I'm staying."  I squeeze her 
hand and sit down on the couch.  "How about you go get 
ready for bed and I'll meet you in there.  I need to, 
uh... cool off."

She smiles at me and leans in to give me a small chaste 
kiss, which I must admit, feels as good as our first one 
did, before turning and heading into her room.  It takes 
me come seconds to realize that she's left her door open 
as she goes about changing.  And I huff impatiently as I 
tamp down on my desire to go watch her change.  I need to 
be somewhat decent if I plan on being in the same bed as 
her...

Oh... kay, that's not helping at all, you idiot.

Blood splattered on the wall, malformed alien fetuses, 
Mulder's bloated body...  ah, righty, that worked the 
trick to an extent.  At least I'm somewhat presentable 
now.  I consciously slow my breathing and concentrate on 
relaxing my back muscles to try and ease my tension down.  
I don't know why I'm tense.  I've just been granted one 
of the greatest gifts I ever thought I'd received.

She loves me.

I hear her bare feet pad back into the living room and I 
open my eyes to look up at her.  She's put on her pajamas 
and look almost like a little girl, except that my eyes 
are drawn to her chest and I notice, and not for the 
first time, that she is definitely no girl.

Shit.

All that hard concentration shot to hell and back. Oh, 
well.

She holds out her hand to me and gives me a small smile.  
"Don't worry about it, John.  I'm tired and I wanna go 
to sleep."

I sigh, resigned to the fact that nothing is going to 
help me for the moment.  Besides that, I really want to
hold her right now.

***********

I'm finding a strange admiration in the way that he is 
trying to control himself at the moment.  He's still
affected by the kiss we shared earlier, and if I were 
any more of a woman I would admit to him that it 
affected me to, but this is still untouched territory 
and I'm a little shy in that area.

Especially with him.

Big surprise.

But he eventually grabs my proffered hand and follows 
me down the short hall into my room.  I let go of his 
hands to allow him to undress and crawl into the bed, 
hauling the duvet up under my chin to ward off the 
chill.

Amazingly he looks unselfconscious as he strips off 
his suit pants and shirt, leaving him in a tight 
muscle tee and his boxers.  I notice that his arousal 
has dissipated somewhat and, squashing my 
disappointment, am glad that he'll be able to be 
comfortable tonight.

I can see him hesitate at the side of the bed, and he 
looks at me a little shyly.  Then he just crawls in 
beside me and moves the cover to shield himself from 
the cold.

In the silence that follows his getting settle on his 
back, I can feel that I'm being called to his side like 
a magnet.  I can't stop myself.

Like I want to.

Without looking into his face, I slide over to him and 
plaster myself along his right side, my head falling 
comfortably onto his shoulder.  My left arm is pinned 
under me and my right hand falls onto his chest, 
automatically moving to cover his heart.

Once I get settled I feel a moment of tension and then 
he too shifts his position.  His head tilts to the side
and rests his cheeks on the crown of my head, his 
breath tickling my forehead gently.  His left hand also 
raises to cover mine over his heart.

And I realize one thing before I drift to sleep.

Nothing should feel this right.

************

Drifting up out of sleep, I think I'm holding something 
warm and female.  And I smile lazily as I rehash last 
night.

Who would have ever thought that she would confess first?  
Not that I mind... not at all.  After all, if she hadn't, 
I'd be at home, lying in bad alone, probably thinking
about her anyway.

God, this is so much better.

My arms loosen when she shifts, turning in my arms to 
bury her cold nose in my chest.  Wow.  I am so happy 
right now.

"Good morning."  She mumbles, adorably rubbing her nose 
to warm it up on my shirt.

"Morning."  I glance to the clock on the side of her bed 
and see that I have to get up to go to work soon.  But 
for the first time in a while I feel good.  Rested.  
"How're you feeling?"

"'m good."  She hums, shifting again, unfortunately out 
of my arms.  But then I get the pleasure of watching her 
stretch like a cat.  And I swear I can hear some joints 
crack.  "Ahhhh."  She sighs, right before she curls up 
back into my side.

And I can't help but chuckle.  This eye opening 
experience of her morning self was nice to see.  "Do 
you hurt anywhere?"

She's silent for a moment and I think that maybe she's 
gone back to sleep, but then she answers.  "Not at all, 
thank you."

I get the feeling that she's meaning a whole lot more 
than she's saying.  But I'm happy to be of service.  I 
sigh heavily, happily and resignedly as I look at the 
clock and see that I really have to get up if I'm going 
to get to work on time.

"I have to get up."

"I know."  She sounds more disappointed than I feel.  
"What are you doing tonight?"

I can think of some things that I'd really like to do, 
but I didn't have anything solid for tonight.  
"Microwave pizza and satelite T.V."  I respond with a 
chuckle.  I hope that makes her day as much as it did 
four days ago.

"God, you really need a dog, John."  She chuckles.

"A dog really is no substitute for a real life, you 
know." I respond, trying to defend myself.  "Besides, 
cats take so much less work."

"So you said."  She lifts her head to look into my eyes.  
"Mom and Dad are still up and are taking me out for 
dinner tonight.  I want you to come along."

I haven't even taken her on a date yet and already I'm
getting invited to meet her parents. Oh, hell.

"I suppose I could handle that."  I know that I don't 
sound to thrilled, and I can tell that she heard it by 
the change in her face.  She looks at me speculatively 
and runs a hand down my chest, her fingers lightly 
curling around my ribs.  I don't know why this thought 
affects me like this, but I guess that if she really 
wants me to go tonight, I can.

She looks like she's about to offer me an out, so I 
stop her with a gentle kiss, morning breath and all.

She doesn't seem to mind.

I know I don't.

"Yeah," I say, when I pull back.  "Sure I'll come 
tonight." This time I can tell by her face that she 
believes me.

Now is the time when I have to leave this bed or the 
temptations will get to be too much.  Besides I'm
already going to be late.  I need to get home, shower 
and change.

But what a way to start the morning.

************

He left all of half and hour ago, and already I miss 
him.  I know that I won't get to see him until after 
work, but I can at least talk to him at some point 
during the day to get our plans straightened out.  I 
wonder if I can come up with any more lame excuses to 
call him up at work.

I'm pathetic, aren't I?

Actually I should probably change that to, 'I'm a 
love-sick teenager, aren't I?'

But then I was in love with him last week and I never 
went about thinking like this, willing to do anything 
like this just to hear his voice.

I think I'll stick with being pathetic.

I stretch again on the bed and roll over, feeling 
slightly silly as I bury my nose into the pillow that 
he had used last night.  A lazy smile spreads across my 
face as I inhale his scent.  He even smells good.

mmmmmm.

I guess I can only be lazy for so long, but I'm so 
tired, and knowing that I have to go into work tomorrow 
only supports my desires to go back to sleep.

Ah, what the hell.  Sleep it is.

*************

Scully knows that there something different.  She keeps 
on casting these surreptitious glances in my direction, 
and I swear I can see a sparkle in her eye.

"What?  Stop looking at me like that."  I finally break.  
She looks so playful.

And then she slides on that innocent look and I know 
that I'm going to get grilled until I spill.

Damn.

"You look rested today, Agent Doggett.  How are you 
feeling?"  and then after a slight pause that's too 
short to be an afterthought,  "How's Monica?"

I studiously ignore her and try valiantly not to blush 
and I think I might even be successful.  But in my 
desire not to look guilty (why I should be guilty, I 
don't know) I completely forget to answer her.

Damn.

She's a dog with a bone in situations like these.

I clear my throat and super-humanly lift my eyes to 
her, knowing that if I back down...  I don't know why 
I don't just tell her.  It's not like SHE didn't fall 
in love with HER partner.

I laugh at this, and smile at her.

"She was fine when I left." This morning, I think, but 
don't add, "And I'm feeling good, too, thank you for 
asking."  I say sincerely, daring her to continue; 
showing her that I won't back down.  I don't know what 
I'll say if she does continue, but I won't lie about 
it.  She won't use it to hurt us.

And after a slight pause she breaks into a huge smile.

And she leaves it at that.

God, I love her too.  How could my life be filled with 
two women like this?  I don't know and I don't care to 
question it.  I'll just accept it and go with the flow.  
I give her a grateful smile and turn back to the report 
that I was working on.

We sit in silence for a while, the occasional shuffle 
of papers and the tapping of keyboards, with a lot of 
retyping done by me cause I can't seem to concentrate.  
She's being awfully accepting of the soft flow of 
expletives that are coming from me.  I'll have to type 
this whole thing over again.

And I don't care.

I feel like dancing.

God, I am soo losing it.

"Good Lord, John, take a break."  She almost laughs.

"I'm sorry, Scully.  I'm trying, really."

"In my experience, it's better to not try and it'll just 
come to you.  My brain's become a master at 
multi-tasking."  She taps her temple and then turns back 
to her computer.  She glances as her watch and then 
looks at me again.  "I could really use a club from the 
deli down the street."  She suggests.

Not even a split second to think that over.  "It would 
be my pleasure."  And I'm out the door, with my coat 
dragging behind me.

***********

[John Doggett.]

"How's work?"

[Boring as hell.  How was your morning?]

"Boring as hell." I mimic, smiling into the phone.  I 
idly stir the soup on the stove and wish to heaven that 
I could be with him right now.  "What're you up to?"  
I don't even know why I called him.  I think I figured 
that 5 hours was enough.

[Getting lunch for Scully from the deli.  I think I 
was starting to annoy her with the amount of the report 
that I had to retype.]  I can hear him enter the deli 
and I close my eyes picturing him there.  [hey, about 
tonight, what time should I come by, or how is this 
working?]

"I haven't talked with mom or dad yet, I don't know 
exactly." I take the pot from the stove and set it on 
the counter for it to cool for a bit.  "But it's likely 
that you'll just meet us at the restaurant.  Would that
be ok?"

[of course.]  I can here him ask the clerk for Scully's 
club and a turkey with bacon for him.  [so why don't 
you go talk with your parents and give me a shout 
later?]

I hum in agreement, a little reluctant to end the 
conversation, but I don't think that I can drag this 
out anymore.  Either way, I'll be calling him later.  
"Alright."  I pause for a moment and then say it anyway.  
"Love you."

[Love you too.]

*************

[Monica Reyes.]

"D'you talk with your parents?"

[Yeah, sorry I didn't get around to calling you back 
yet.]

"It's ok.  I actually got some work done, but I think 
I'm going to head home early."  I fling my brief case 
across the seat and into the passenger side and I 
slide into the car and close the door.

[Uhm, you know where Piatti's is?]  I think I can hear 
some voices in the back ground and I wonder if it's 
her parents.

"Right on the other side of the Potomac, right?"

[Hmmmm.  We'll be there at 7:30.  That's when the 
reservations are.] She shifts the phone and says a word 
or two to the people with her, more then likely her 
parents, and then returns to me.  [I think that mom 
figures you for the kind of guy who would bring flowers 
to them and she says not to bother.]

I laugh.  "Well, I'll try not to disabuse her from the 
notion, even though I wasn't going to do that."  I think 
that maybe I should feel a little scared that she 
talking with her parents about me, but it doesn't bother 
me at all.  "I think that that would make me look like 
I had to suck up to them... gain their approval."

[It might.] she agrees and I hear her take sip of 
something.

"Do I?"  I ask, now starting to worry what she's saying 
about me.  "Should I be worried about what you telling 
them about me?"

[Oh, I don't know.  Do you trust me?]

I pretend to mull this over with a little humming and 
hawing for her entertainment.  "With my heart."

I know that she's smiling to a response like that and I 
wonder what her parents are thinking of this 
conversation.

"Look, I shouldn't be interrupting coffee with your 
parents.  I'm looking rude.  Have a good afternoon and 
I'll see you in two hours, k?"

Gotta make a good impression.

[Relax, Agent.] she says, trying and succeeding in doing 
exactly that.  I swear it's a Pavlovian response.  [I'm 
just telling them that you're a dog-person.  I'll see 
you in two.] and then she hangs up.

I'm a little disappointed in the way my heart sinks when 
she doesn't say 'I love you', but I know that I 
shouldn't be.  She's probably just embarrassed sitting 
in front of her parents.  Simple enough.

I realize that I had that whole conversation sitting in 
the car without turning it on.  I guess I had more 
important things on my mind.  The engine turns and I 
head home, knowing that I should probably change into 
something different if I'm going to meet her parents.

I told her I loved her last night.

And I'm meeting her parents tonight.

Talk about a full blown relationship stuffed into 
twelve hours.

Minus the sex.

Guess I'll have to see what I can do about that.

***********

I watched him enter the restaurant and caught his eye.  
As he made his way through the crowd, I took in his 
attire, more relaxed than his suits, but infinitely 
better.  His black bomber jacket covered the soft 
looking high collared sweater that seemed to highlight 
his chest.

Mmmmm. He looked good.

I stood as he got near and reached for his hand, 
placing a small kiss on his cheek.  "Hey,"  I murmured.

He smiled back, squeezing my hand and then moving to 
take off his coat and hang it on the back of his chair.  
I noticed that he wasn't carrying his weapon, and then 
realized that he would have had nowhere to put it out 
of sight.

I turned to my parents, who were trying not to appear 
too interested in our exchange, but I knew that they 
were.  I'd never had a relationship like this before, 
and I think that they could tell that this was 
important to me.

"Mom and Dad," I shifted a little, "John, this is 
Jack and Maria."

He smiled his beautiful smile and leaned forward, 
shaking hands with both of them and then gracefully 
taking his seat.

Well, that was simple.

And he looked so confident.  And he was so hesitant 
this morning.  I wonder what happened.

He continued to surprise me when he carefully entered 
into flowing conversation with my parents.  He was 
charming, of course, and spoke eloquently, which he 
normally did... but he was trying.  And from the 
frequent glances that my mother gave me, I think she 
approved.

From the way that John and Dad were talking 
enthusiastically about NASCAR, he approved too.

I don't think that this could have worked out any 
better.

**************

I never thought that I'd find a common NASCAR 
enthusiast, but am I ever glad that it's Monica's dad.  
I hope that her mother doesn't take my conversation 
with Jack as ignoring her.

Just as our entr�es arrive, I excuse myself to go and 
wash my hands.  And as I'm walking through the tables, 
a shadowed face next to the hallway catches my eye.

And I stop.

And I stare.

I know that I shouldn't stare, cause that will only 
attract attention, but I can't stop myself.  It 
couldn't really be him.

Could it?

His instincts must kick in that someone is watching 
him, cause his eyes drift from his companion, a 
blonde-haired, gaunt lady, to mine.  He's surprised, 
I know, but he doesn't do anything that would betray 
him.  He looks at me for seconds and then almost 
imperceptibly tilts his head towards the bathroom, 
hoping that I'll acknowledge it and move on.

Dumbly I nod and disappear down the dark hall and enter 
the bathroom, relieved to find it empty.

What the hell is he doing here?

"What the hell are you doing here?"  he asks as soon 
as he steps into the bathroom.

"Me?"  I ask incredulously, pointing in the general 
direction of the restaurant.  "You!  You're supposed 
to be dead!"

That stops him and he turns to stare at me.  "Dead?  
Where'd you get that?"

"Deputy Director Kersh."

He snorts and turns to lean against the counter.  
"Since when have you listened to Kersh.  He doesn't 
have a fucking clue what he's doing."  He sighs and 
rubs a hand over his face.

A sudden thought occurs to me and I look at him 
suspiciously.  Visions of Noel and several others 
confirmed... things, and their super-human abilities.  
He catches my look and questions me.

"What?"

"Let me see you neck." I demand, suddenly wishing that 
I had my gun, but then remembering that that wouldn't 
make any difference.  Either way, he pauses for a 
moment and then acquiesces.

He walks toward me in a posture of peace, his hands 
held upwards and away from his body.  And then turns 
his back to me.  I'm a little shorter than him, but I 
can clearly see his neck.  And it's clear.

Blessedly smooth.

I heave a sigh of relief, and then annoyance steals 
over me.

"Mulder... what are you doing here?  In D.C.?  You'll 
get yourself killed."  I cross my arms and watch as he 
almost physically deflates.  He's not very forthcoming 
with his answers and I wonder if he even knows why 
he's here.  Besides the obvious.

"I can't do it anymore, John.  It's so hard.   Marita," 
he gestures out to the restaurant, signifying the woman 
he was with, "Is the closest I can get to finally 
getting a grip on this whole Goddamn situation."  He 
rolls his head on his shoulders and sighs heavily again.  
"Don't tell Scully, John, cause she'll blow a fuse." 
I'm immediately hesitant to do that, but then he 
continues.  "It'll only be for a couple more days, 
maybe less.  I swear.  It's all coming to a head, and 
then it won't matter if I'm dead or alive."

That last sentence scares me.

Bad.

It won't matter?  Of course it will.  Cause if he's 
dead then basically so is Scully.  She tries so hard 
to hide how much the separation is killing her, but 
I've learned how to read her a little over the last 
two years.

He must see the look on my face cause he tries to 
finish that last statement.  "I'll be alive and I'll 
come home,"  he says it so wistfully, that I think he 
thinks of it as some fantasy,  "And maybe, just maybe, 
I'll be able to stay."  He looks me in the eye.  "A 
couple of days."

"Alright.  Fine, but if you don't show up, I'm going 
to know you lied."  I know that that alone will give 
him just a little more incentive not to run off, 
because he does respect me, and dare I say it, he 
even trusts me.

"How is she?"

"She misses you," I state.

"How is he?"

I smile.  "Growing like a weed."  This tugs a little 
smile onto his somber face, and I can see that this 
is killing him as much as it is Scully.  "Look, I 
have to get back, otherwise Monica is going to come 
looking for me."

He seems a little taken aback that I would be here 
with her, and I think that I can see the significance 
click behind his eyes.  He smiles, a grateful, happy 
smile.  "I'm glad.  You have a good meal."

I smile back at him and turn, leaving the room and 
almost running into Monica.

"There you are.  You OK?"

I look down at her for a moment and feel a little 
piece of my heart melt at the gentle look in her eyes.  
"Yeah," I give her a little kiss and grab her hand, 
pulling her away from the door.  "Sorry to worry you."

"Thought you got flushed down the toilet."

"Wouldn't surprise me if it did happen one of these 
days, given the nature of the X Files."

She laughs a little laugh.  I'm tugged by the desire 
to tell her that Mulder is here tonight, but I don't 
know how to do that without causing a scene.  We're 
all so intricately involved with each other that it'll 
affect all of us when he comes back later.  She won't 
be as accepting of Mulder's vague answer that it'll 
still be another couple of days.

I hope I can keep my big mouth shut for a while.

What did he mean that it's all coming to a head?

***********

Something happened there.  I don't think I could 
pinpoint it if I wanted to, but something happened.  I 
think I might have to try and get it out of him when we 
get home later.

We get HOME??  We don't have a home.  But for some 
reason I'm assuming that he's coming home with me.

Oh, I hope so.

But for now, Mom and dad are going to be leaving 
tomorrow, so I think I want to talk with them for a 
while.  I don't know when I'll see them again.

Supper passes quickly, and I think that it does for 
John to.  this was good.  And I'm really glad that he
got along well with both mom and dad.  They clicked 
well, and I'm pretty sure that both of them approve of 
him.  He tried hard to shed the shy demeanor he usually 
wears and he became a little bit of another man.

I think I love that man too.

I smile a little as dad finally pays the check and 
glances at his watch.

"I'm sorry, hun, but our flight is at 6."  Dad says, 
standing, and helping mom up.  I guess her leg is still
bothering her.  Damn bandits.

"It's alright dad, really.  It's been an... interesting 
couple of days."  I smile at John as we both stand as 
well.  "You go ahead back to the hotel.  John can give 
me a ride home."

It's sweet how he tries not to look too eager at that 
idea.

But dad just nods sagely as if it's nothing, and turns 
to John, extending his hand.  "It was nice to meet you,
John.  We'll talk again, hey?"

"Of course, Jack."  He turns to mom.  "And it was a 
pleasure to meet you, Maria.  I hope that you have a 
comfortable flight home."

"Oh, thank you, John.  It was nice to meet you too."

We follow them out and John leaves to go get his car, 
leaving me with mom and dad for the last time in what 
I'm assuming will be a while.

"I'm glad you didn't have to come up here for the 
reason you left for."  I smile, hugging mom and then 
dad, who places a hand on my shoulder and looks me in 
the eye, smiling sweetly at me.

"You done good, hun.  He's a good man."

This bring tears to my eyes and I resist the urge to 
curse at myself.  I never realized how much dad's 
approval meant to me.

"He's good, Monica, don't you let him go."

God, I love my parents.

"I wasn't planning on it," I laugh as I watch the man 
in question pull up to the curb beside us.  He hops 
out and hails down a taxi for my parents.  I sigh and 
look again at mom.  "No, I wasn't planning on it."

Mom looks at me with pride and then gives my hand a 
squeeze.  She laughs a little at me and then allows 
dad to help her into the car.

"Bye," I grant them a watery smile and small wave, as 
I feel John come up behind me for mental support.  I 
lean back into him and I feel a gentle sigh release 
from him.

I turn to him with a smile on my face.  "You're a big 
hit."

His shoulders deflate and a big smile bursts onto his 
face.  "Good."  And then he opens the door for me and 
helps me in.

*************

the drive to her house is made in silence and I think 
that she may not have any idea that something odd 
happened in the bathroom.  Please let that be the case.

And when I'm pulling up to her building again, I'm 
taken back to... last night?  Goodness.  I park the car 
and she lets me let her out again. I wonder if she's 
expecting this treatment for the rest of her life.  I 
wonder if she's expecting it from ME for the rest of 
her life.

And when we're standing toe to toe like we were last 
night, I know that this is going to end differently, 
because I'm going to do something.

However, before I can do anything, she's reaching for
me and bringing me down for a kiss.

Or she'll do something.

That's good too.

I'm kissing her and I feel relief and happiness and 
desire and confusion and indecision and forty thousand 
other feeling just from her lips on mine.  The one long 
soul-searing kiss has diminished into a hundred 
comforting butterfly kisses.  And that's good too.

"Come up for... coffee."  She's got this look in her 
eye that would brook no objection.

I laugh and take her hand as she heads up the stairs.  
"Coffee, huh?"  I know what she means.  "That's what 
they call it nowadays?"

She's happily silent as we climb the stairs, and she 
doesn't say anything until we get to her door.

"Nowadays, John?  What does that say about you?"

My, she's feeling funny, isn't she?

I stall.  "It says..." I, however, don't know how to 
stall worth shit.  She pulls me inside and closes the 
door with her heel, only stopping when we reach the 
living room.  "I don't care what it says about me."

She laughs and pulls me into her, drawing me into a 
deep kiss.  I can feel her hands wandering about my 
waist and drawing up to slide my jacket off of my 
shoulders.  I think that my hands have done a little 
wandering of their own because I don't feel her coat 
anymore.

"What did you say about coffee?"  I murmur as my lips 
trace her jawline and my hands tug her blouse from her
pants.  "Did I tell you how good you looked tonight?"

"Really good,"  she mumbles into my throat, answering 
both my question and her opinion of how I looked.  She 
shudders and sighs as my hands draw up her back, on 
her skin and slip to her bra.

Reflexively my stomach muscles jerk away from her touch,
but she follows through and follows my ribs up, 
fluttering over my pecs and forcing me to raise my arms 
so she can throw the $140 sweater in the corner.

I don't care.

Since my hands are no longer under her shirt, I guess 
I'll have to take it off.  And I swear to God that when 
she's sleeping I'm going to take all the buttons off her
shirts and replace them with velcro.  That would make 
my life a whole lot easier.  But then it's gone and she 
standing before me in slim black pants and a lacy white 
bra.

She smiles slyly at me and then catches my eye.  "You 
still want coffee?"

I smile back at her and crowd her space, forcing her to 
step back, and I keep going, guiding her into her room.

"Only if you're talking about the kind of coffee I was 
talking about earlier."

The back of her knees make contact with her bed and she 
falls backward with a chuckle.  "I don't understand.  
I invited you up for coffee... what other kind of 
coffee is there?"

"I'm talking about a coffee..." I climb onto her and 
unbutton her pants, pulling them down her long, shapely 
legs, "that's hot and steamy," she hums in her throat 
as my hands run back up her legs, along her sides and 
reached under her to unclasp her bra, "and provides 
you with a high that'll keep you up all night long..."  
I think that my voice has dropped an octave or two, 
but I don't really care.  I drag my hands around again 
and draw the straps down and away from her body.  
"it'll become an addiction,"  I trail my mouth down 
her neck and bring it to her breast, humming as I draw 
a nipple into my mouth.  Unconsciously I've brought my 
hips down and I connect with her thigh, sending a jolt 
of pleasure that rips a groan from my throat. I didn't 
quite realize that I was this far gone.  I consciously 
move away and try to concentrate on her.  "It'll be 
the first thing you think about in the morning, and 
you might just be grumpy until you get it..."

************

He's comparing sex with me to coffee.

Sex.

Coffee.

And he hasn't even had sex with me yet.

I'd be a little insulted, but the way that he's 
talking about it, slowly driving my nerve endings 
around the bend, all it's doing is turning me on.

"That's an interesting allegory."  I smile down at him, 
where his head is buried beneath my breast.  Where's 
he going?  Even as my brain processes the answer to 
that question, I feel a white hot line of arousal 
course through my veins and enter my abdominal area.

I don't think that I've ever wanted anyone as bad as 
I want him right now.

"Allegory?  Who said anything about an allegory?"  He 
looks up at me for a second just before he dips and 
kisses me right above my hips.  "I was talking about 
coffee."  Again he looks up at me and smiles.

Alright.  He's had enough fun.

It's my turn.

I haul him back up and look into his eyes.  The look 
there takes my breath away.  I'm just really glad that 
I've never seen these eyes before, cause if I had, I 
might have melted straight down into my shoes.

"My turn," I growl.  Yes, I growled.

He rolls over onto his back and I spread my legs to 
straddle him, my center falling straight down onto 
his arousal.  The groan that's pulled from him makes 
him sound almost in pain.

"Whatever you do, Monica, don't sit there."  He 
sounds a little desperate.

Hmmmm.

"Please, you have... to move... I'm not 20 any..."

I smile coyly and as I move to offer him a reprieve 
from the pressure, I circle my hips just the tiniest 
amounts... but he felt it.

Boy, did he feel it.

"Ahhhhhh..." He closes his eyes and throws his head 
back, his hands coming up and clasping at my hips, 
crushing me down to him and grinding his erection 
straight into my clit.

Damn...

I'm right there with him.

As his hips spasm and his fingers bruise my hips, my 
hands have thrown forward onto his shoulders and are 
digging their nails into his skin.  My back is arching, 
trying to compensate for the tremendous pleasure that 
is roaring through my body, and I can feel my thighs 
vibrating against his trembling hips.  Every little 
nuance of sensation or connection that I have with his 
skin is registered a hundred times clearer and more 
intense than ever before.

He just made me come and he hasn't even lost his 
pants.

Guess we can change that, given his current state of 
lassitude.

***************

Damn it.

"Damn it, Monica,"  I growl as she begins to move again.  
"I told you not to move."

The contentment and laziness that are stealing over my 
body are fighting a heavy war with the embarrassment 
I'm feeling at my lack of control.  I don't think she 
even notices cause currently she pulling my pants down 
my legs.

"Are you complaining?"  she asks, smiling up at me as 
her slim fingers tug on my boxers.

"No... yes..." I sigh and pull her up, wanting to divest 
her of her last article of clothing.  "That wasn't 
supposed to happen that way."

She looks at me for a moment, trying to judge my mood, 
I think.  Honestly, I'm OK, just a little embarrassed.

"It's OK.  I guess I'm not 20 anymore either."  She 
smiles beautifully at me and crawls up my side, taking 
up the position she took last night.  When she's 
finally settled, her hand begins to wander around my 
chest, lightly tickling me.

"Yes, but there is a big difference between me being 
20 and you not being 20."  I stop her hand with mine 
and link our fingers, shocking myself with the feeling 
it evokes from seeing our hands together.  I didn't 
think I would ever have this again.  But I don't 
think that I even had this with my ex-wife.

"I love you anyway."  She smiles and kisses my chest.  
She yawns and, while I know that she slept in this 
morning, dozes softly next to me.  Well, I guess it 
wasn't that bad for her after all.

Just thinking about what she did to me sends shivers 
down my spine again, and am shocked to see that maybe
there are advantages to being 20.

Even though I feel a little bit of renewed ardor, her 
sweet sighs and little breaths lull me into a daze 
beside her and we lie silent for a while.  But then she 
shifts and everything changes.

I feel her breasts next to me rub along my sensitive 
ribs and her hand drifts south from her resting spot on 
my stomach.  A small pit of excitement takes up 
residence just under the spot where her hand is lying.  
And I think that it's time for round two... hopefully a 
longer round than number one and maybe a little more 
successful too.

As soon as I begin to shift her so that I can have 
better access to her body, she's awake and playfully 
looking at me.  I shrug.

"I guess there are some advantages to acting like a 
young guy again..."  I trial off as I bury my nose in 
between her breasts.

"I see..." she sighs, tunneling her hands into my hair, 
her nails lightly scratching my scalp.

"Hey?"  I rest my chin on her stomach and look up at 
her.

"Hmmmm?"

"You know that dog-person conversation?"

She chuckles.  "The first, second or third one?"

"The first one... when you dropped me off?  What would 
have happened if I had kissed you then?"

"Aha!  I knew that's what you were thinking."  She 
smiles triumphantly at me before answering me.  "Well, 
we'd be a little farther along than we are right now, 
and I probably wouldn't have spent three days in the 
hospital."

I guess my guilt must show on my face because her face 
turns into a studied state and a hand comes up to rest 
on my chin.

"I'm sorry..." I start to apologize, but her hand 
moves to cover my mouth silencing me.

"Don't even start, John.  I'm as much to blame as you 
are."  She smiles and traces my lips with her finger, 
sending a tantalizing shiver down my spine.  "If I had 
followed my instincts I probably would have been going 
in to your house to enjoy..."  she pauses and looks at 
me saucily,  "a hot steamy cup of coffee.  And I don't 
mean the wet kind."

I quirk my eyebrow at her and move my hand down to 
the v of her legs, dragging a finger along her slit 
and drawing a moan from deep inside of her.

"Oh, I don't know.  I'd say that this is pretty wet."

********************

Hot damn!

He's going to get it for that.  But before I can make 
a move, he's started to move again, and I really don't 
have the heart to stop him.  That sounds like I'm not 
being completely selfish in that decision.

But, damn, he's more than a little good at this.

I can't even register what it is exactly that he's 
doing, but I know that it feels pretty fantastic.  
His fingers move in synchronized motions all over me, 
his tongue following with a trail of fire.  The blood 
has started to pound and I can feel the pulse in 
almost every extremity on my body.  I can feel the 
orgasm coming with the weight of a freight train and 
if I wanted to, or had the strength of mind, this is 
where I'd stop him and get him inside of me...

That however proves to be harder than I thought.

As I feel the white hot fingers of pleasure creeping 
and starting to squeeze my abdomen, I'm breathing 
heavily and groaning almost continuously.

"John..." at his name he looks up at me and meets my 
eyes.  And there in his clear slate blue eyes I lose
myself.  Their dilated pupils and shaded colors relay 
his desire and rip the last of my control away from 
me.

And I'm gone.  In the distance I hear a low groan and 
realize that it's John responding to my own loss of 
control.  I however have more pleasurable things on my 
mind and let the blood flow through me with no 
restraint.  My eyes are closed to the intensity of the 
waves taking over my body and I'm holding my breath 
until it's passed me over.

"Damn, John."  I sigh when it's all over, my body 
relaxing to the soft sheets beneath me.  "That's some 
pretty toxic coffee."

He chuffs out a laugh that turns into a heartfelt groan 
as my hand wanders down his body and brushes against 
his erection.

"What is it with you and coffee?"  he sighs, planting 
a light kiss on my lips and releasing a satisfied moan.

"I haven't really like any of the coffee that I've had 
in the past, but your speech earlier was a pretty good 
prelude to this flavor."  I smile into his close face 
and gently rub my nose against his.  My hand strokes 
against the tender skin of his cock and I pull him 
against me.  "However, I believe that there's 
something missing from this pot..."

He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I oddly wonder if he 
learned that little gimmick from Scully.  And as he 
begins to move into me, he bites his lower lip in a 
truly sexy attempt to control himself.

Huh.

This feels...  really, really good.

But he's going way too fucking slow.

"Uhm, John?"  I say, just before another low groan is 
pulled from me with an answering grunt from him.  He 
lifts his eyes and looks at me, but he can't seem to 
form anything coherent.

"Could you... maybe, speed...  hurry it up?"  Hoping 
to give him a little bit of incentive, I flex my inner 
muscles and get an immediate response.  His hips snap 
forward and bury him to the hilt wrenching a satisfied 
groan from both of us.

"Shit... don't do that, Monica..."  he growls, holding 
still and gathering his wits about him.

No no no... that's not what I want.

"What..."  I say, mocking innocent just as I do it 
again, "That?"

Again his hips snap and his pelvis grinds into mine, 
causing more waves of pleasure to flow over me.

"Dammit.  Yeah, that."  He's sounding almost annoyed 
that I'm testing his limits.  So I'll try something 
else.  At this point in time, my nerves are so tuned 
to him, I could come just from watching him bite his 
lip.  I lightly drag my fingernails up his side and 
amaze at the muscle reaction... and loud verbal 
response.

"Fuck, Monica, you're not making this very easy."  
He's been lying still, buried in me, and hasn't moved 
an inch since he got there.  He's sounding desperate.  
I sigh.

I look him straight in the eye and lay my hand against 
his cheek, holding him there.  "Let go, John, you've 
got nothing to prove to me... you never did.  Let 
go," I implore.

And he does.

Finally, mercifully, he starts thrusting.  Long, heavy, 
strong movements that feel like heaven.  Almost 
immediately he's going faster, and I moan in agreement.  
Good decision.

But, I think I need...

"More..."

*****************

Her sighed command reaches my autonomic response 
before I can even process it, and I'm speeding up.  I 
know, I just know, that I'm not going to be able to 
last long enough, but if she wants more, then I'll 
give her more.

That sounds like I'm not being completely selfish in 
that decision.

However, the more I move the more she responds and I 
think now that I might pull it off.

I hate being old.

But it's not going to affect this... not if I can in 
anyway help it.

By now I think I'm almost desperate to make her come, 
but this intense feeling of her muscles holding me, 
occasionally flexing, is getting to be too much.  The 
breaths wrenching from my lungs are fluttering the 
dark hairs on the pillow next to her face.

Our eyes catch and I lean down, hoping that if I give 
her a kiss I might be able to focus on that and hold 
off for a few more seconds.

I didn't even think that it might be the catalyst.

For both of us even.

The kiss is something all together unrealistic.  I 
don't know how it's done, but as it's going on I hope 
to high heaven that it'll be able to be duplicated.  
I swear that I can feel the moan that erupts from her 
lungs and just as her tense muscles begin to ripple 
around me, I feel my own response.

Forty million nerve endings explode at once, all 
focused on the sensations flowing out from between my 
legs as her muscles clamp down hard and pull my orgasm 
from me.  I can feel the ejaculations and the 
accompanying jerks from my cock, but they're muted by 
the unbelievable beauty of our simultaneous orgasms.

Silence reigns.  Beautiful, blessed silence, marred 
only by the heavy breathing and occasional sigh or 
groan.

I think she feels my arms shaking from holding me up 
and she pulls me down on top of her, pulling my 
forehead to hers.  She mumbles something, but the 
blood is still pounding in my ears and I miss it.

"Come again?"

She laughs and I suddenly hear how that sounds.  
"Maybe later, lover."  I smile and give her a little 
kiss.  "Just said that I love you."

"Love you too."

*********************

Whoever thought that heaven would look like John 
Doggett holding me in his arms?

With my head resting on his chest, I can hear the 
gentle return of his rapid heartbeat to a steady 
heavy beat.  Even as I close my eyes, I can't help 
the smile that I'm wearing.

That's it.

I think I'll fall asleep in this position.  And he 
doesn't seem to mind.

I guess I do fall asleep because when I wake up, 
John's moved and is reaching over the side of the bed 
and rummaging around for his ringing cell phone.

"Dammit," he mumbles, as he almost falls out of the 
bed.  Finally he fishes it out of his clothes and 
brings it to his ear.

"John Doggett."  I don't think that I've ever really 
been this close to a conversation and only heard one 
end of it before, but what he's talking about is lost 
on me.  "Yeah, I do."  Obviously it's someone he 
knows or he would have hung up, it being... freaking 
late.

He nods and then pauses.  "Really?  Uhm, OK..."  he 
trails off and glances at me quickly.  "Yeah he did.  
I guess you can.  Where can I meet you?"  This 
catches me a little off guard and makes me sad.  I 
don't want him to go anywhere right now.  
"Alright..."  he pauses and grimaces then 
continues, "But I'm at Agent Reyes' right now."

I think that there's a little bit of silence on the 
other end, because a small grin takes to his face and 
he looks so cute.

"Yeah, I think so too.  An hour?"  And then the 
conversation is done.

He turns to look at me and then pauses.  "Monica, 
there's something I have to tell you..."

*******************

Well, that went over well.  We're sitting on her couch 
and facing each other, our knees almost touching.  
We've finally gotten around to the cup of coffee she 
offered me earlier, cause we desperately need to wake 
up.

I've told her about meeting Mulder in Piatti's, and 
defended myself, which she accepted with more grace 
than I thought that she would.  And then I told her 
about what the Lone Gunmen were talking about to him 
on the phone.

And she was so gracious with it all.  She forgave me 
the fact that I'd held out on her, as per Mulder's 
instructions. And now she wondering, same as me, why 
the Gunmen need to talk to us.

Maybe his few days he mentioned would be... overnight?  
Good Lord, it had only been tonight that I had talked 
to him.  I thought that it had been yesterday.  Maybe 
that sex tonight time warped my mind to the future.

It was good enough for that to have happened.

We're sitting in contemplative silence, our hands 
entwined on the back of the couch when there's a swift 
knock at the door.  I get up to answer it, and Monica 
heads into the kitchen to start a new pot of coffee.

All three of the Gunmen shuffle into the living room 
and find places to sit, leaving two spots on the couch 
for Monica and I.  We take them and then turn to the
guys.

"All right.  Spill."  I say it with such forcefulness, 
they start to talk immediately.

Byers does most of the talking, leaving Langley and 
Frohicke to fidget around.  But they don't distract 
me from the news that Byers is spilling.

Mulder went to their 'den' tonight and explained where, 
what and how he'd been doing for the last several 
months.  He'd known of the super-soldiers vulnerability 
and had decided to pan that out.  Once he'd left he'd 
learned so many things on the plans and ideas of the 
so-called Consortium... their how when and why.  So 
he'd come up with a plan.

A community of cottages and greenhouses in the middle 
of the densest, unmined iron deposit in the Rocky 
mountains.  Self contained and diverse, it was 
everything that a new community needed to survive.  
And he wanted everyone to get there.  He had several 
things that he needed to handle 'by himself', 
including Scully, but they only had two days to find 
everything they could to take up to the cottages and 
help with the stock there.

He said that there was enough room in the community 
for just over 50 people but that so far he didn't 
know who could come. So any ideas were welcomed.

When Byers was done, the entire apartment was silent.  
I could hear the ticking of clock in the kitchen and 
the hum of passing cars on the street, the quiet 
fell thick and none of us knew what to say.

"Well..." Monica sighs, falling back to rest on my 
shoulder. Frohicke is the first Gunman to move and 
stands up, looking at his companions.

"I think that we have a little bit of work to do, 
you guys." He moves towards the door and then he 
looks back at us.  "If you think that we're taking 
this on blind faith, we're not.  When he was with 
us we went through all the precautionary measures to 
make sure that he was Mulder."  He rubs a hand over 
his face, fingering the scar there.  It was still 
red, but healing nicely after the accident with that
cult lady.  "Call us if you need anything, and he 
said that he would call you sometime today... try 
and clear up anything you have questions about.  
He'll have talked to Scully by the time he calls 
you, so don't call her until he does."

I'm still in a little bit of a daze, so Monica answers 
for us.  "Alright." They all head for the door and she 
rises to see them out.  "Take care of yourselves."  
She smiles and then closes the door behind them.

As she walks back towards me, I think of and admire 
the faith that those three men have in Mulder.  They 
don't doubt that he knows something.  They don't think 
twice when he asks them to leave their lives here and 
move up north.  I've seen Mulder work and interact 
with other people around him, and I've come to respect 
his intuition and investigative skills, but I'm having 
trouble believing this.

Can I leave this life on the word of a man I barely
know?

Finally I find the capacity to say something.

"Damn."

****************

I can't help but laugh at him, he looks so adorably 
confused at the whole situation.  And I can't say that 
I blame him.  It is almost too much to take in.

I stand before him and look down at him.

Considering his tendency to be skeptical in situations 
like these, I'm amazed with the way that he's thinking 
about this.  I know that he has no reason to believe 
Mulder, or the other way for that matter.  But 
thinking back on the last months, I'm thinking that 
he'll be more inclined to believe him than to not.  
Not when there are lives on the line.

"Have you ever heard Scully talk about the time that 
she was in Antarctica?  When she got stung by that 
bee?"  he sounds like he's almost in another room with 
the distance that he had in his voice.

I remember that story.  Clearly.  I nod as I sit down 
on the couch and lean back on his arm, sighing softly 
as he shifts to accommodate me and hold my hand.  
"Why?"

He grimaces and buries his face in my hair, thinking.  
"I don't know.  I mean, back in New York I would have 
thought that Mulder had totally lost it... a year and 
a half ago, I still would have said that.  But now... 
now I see a man on a mission with years of intuition 
and experience to base his actions on.  I don't think 
I can think of any reason not to believe."

We're silent for a moment, and I think about what that 
little comment means to him.  A sheltered man coming 
to D.C. to look for a missing F.B.I. agent and ends 
up entangled in the biggest of lies that the world 
has ever seen.  His entire world paradigm has shifted 
in a matter of months.

At least Scully was exposed slowly over seven years.

"So, if I have this right... we have two days to 
gather our entire lives into a car and head north, 
leaving behind everyone and everything that we 
know."  He pauses, looking around my apartment and 
sighing.  "All on Mulder's word."

"It's hard to believe," I admit, taking my hand from 
his and beginning to draw patterns on the rough skin 
of his palm.  It's hard to believe how good these 
calluses felt on my skin a matter of hours ago.  "We 
haven't known Mulder or Scully long enough to truly 
understand what it is that they're saying,  but it's 
hard to ignore it given what we've seen in the last 
months."

He nods.  "I know.  I do, really, but do I do this 
on faith, in a man I barely know?  In four men I
only met a couple of months ago?"  he sighs in 
frustration.

I have to smile at him, cause he's looking a little lost 
at the decision he has to make.  I turn fully in his 
arms and look him in the eye, loving the laugh lines 
around his eyes.  I love 'em.

I love him.

"You've got a couple hours, John.  Take your time.  
This is a lot to think about..."  I trail off and lay 
a hand on his arm, pushing myself up to walk into the 
kitchen and leave him alone.

All I know of the situation is that whatever he 
chooses, I'll be staying with him.  However I hope 
that he realizes what is really at stake.

***********************

She's being such a sweetheart about all my doubts.  
But it's so bloody confusing.  I think what I'll have 
to do is just say one thing and stick with it.

So... the pros to going with Mulder...

If he's right, we'll be alive and have a safe place 
to stay until we do figure out what's wrong and what 
we can do about it.

And the cons...

Leaving all of this?  But then again, what do I 
really have here?  Luke's gone and I never talk to 
my ex-wife anymore.  I haven't made any friends here, 
and what ones I have made would be going with us.

So all in all...

I think we're heading up to Canada.

"Monica?"

She peeks her head out of the kitchen and smiles at 
me.

Her smile is more than enough to get my blood flowing 
and I motion for her to come and join me on the couch.  
When she gets close enough, I take her hand and pull 
her down into my lap.

"How long do you think it'll be until Mulder calls?"  
I draw her hand up to my mouth and give her a kiss in 
the middle of her palm, and drag my lips up her arm. 
I smile at the giggles that the movements draw out.

"Why, John Doggett, are you coming on to me?"  She 
sighs kissing my forehead.

"Why, Monica Reyes, I think I just might be..." I 
smile and pull her down to give her a whole-hearted 
kiss, only pulling back when she sighs.  I can tell 
that she's smiling even though my eyes are closed.  
"Given last night's events, I'm up for a little more 
exercise."  I pull her shirt off and realize that, 
even while the Gunmen were here, she wasn't wearing 
a bra.  "My, my, my," I approve.

She laughs and takes my hand, pulling me up.  
"Let's go somewhere a little more horizontal."

And I can't do anything but agree.  "So, how long do 
you think we have?"

"I'd rather not wait and find out, you know?"

****************

So here we lay, more than a little satisfied and 
tired.

"I'm going with you, no matter what you decide."

My head rolls on his chest as he releases a heavy 
sigh.  "I already know what I want, Monica, but I'm 
not going to do it, without knowing what you think 
about it all.  I wouldn't do that to you."

My heart's fit to burst with those words, but still
feel a little hollow, knowing that he's chosen a 
path.  "I think that, given the experiences that 
we've had in the last months, not including the 
fact that I was dying three... four days ago, would 
go to support all that Mulder's saying."  I take a 
deep breath and move so that I can look into his 
eyes when I talk.  "I believe that Mulder's seen 
things that he can't explain and that he's trying 
to protect the people that he trusts."

"I'm not sure Mulder really trusts anyone but Scully. 
But I know what you mean."

I shift, waiting for him.  I've got the feeling that 
he's going to tell me what his decision is.

"So..." he pauses, drawing on suspense, and making me 
punch him lightly in the gut.  "what do you think we 
need to take along?"

I smile and kiss his breast bone, showing in silence 
my appreciation of his decision.

"I think," I say, moving so that I can look him in 
the eye.  "I think that right now, I don't want to 
think about that.  I want to lie here with you and 
be with you and not think until Mulder calls later.  
Is that good?"

"Good?"  he smiles, and kisses me.  "That's one 
fine idea."

He's been silent for along time now, but I don't 
think that I can blame him.  He's made one 
life-altering decision tonight.  And until Mulder 
calls later on, I don't want to sit and mull over 
what could happen, when I can just bask in the 
aura that is John Doggett.

He seems to be in the same type of mood.

We lie and doze comfortably together.  Time floats 
idly by and we don't even think that soon the real 
world will be intruding once again on this idyllic 
time.

"I love you."

I feel this more than hear, but the response is 
the same as it was the first time I heard it. any 
fear or hesitancy that may have been residing 
within me dissipates into a warm glowing mass of 
mutual affection and joy at the simple truth of 
his love for me.  I hum in appreciation and 
return the sentiment.

"Love you too."

The phone rings. And John sighs beneath me.

"Hello, real world."  I grunt, reaching across the bed
and hauling the entire phone onto the bed before I 
answer it.  I lie on John's chest, with my chin 
resting on his pec.  "Hello?"

He begins to play with my hair as I talk with Mulder.  
I can hear William in the background and I assume that 
he's holding his son.  I'm glad.  John's fingers softly 
brush through my hair as I automatically finish my 
conversation, seeing as I can't concentrate on anything 
while he's playing with my hair.

And worse yet, we're going to have to leave the 
apartment soon so that we can meet them over at 
Scully's apartment. Before he hangs up, I add what I'm 
feeling.

"I'm glad to hear your voice Mulder.  I'm glad you're 
OK."

He breaths in through his nose and William lets loose 
on a little gurgle and I hear his little hand thump 
the head set of the phone.  "I'm glad I'm here, 
Monica.  I'll see you in a little while, alright?"

"Of course.  Soon."  And I hang up.  "Well, here we 
go."

***************

When we finally pull up to Scully's apartment complex, 
we're both feeling the importance of this time.  The
pressure is a strange mixture of anticipation, longing 
and reluctance.

But I'm proud of the face that Monica's putting 
forward.  She was less reluctant in making this 
decision than I was, but she had more to loose in this 
expedition than I do.  Everything I care about is 
coming with us.

We had talked about talking with her parents and seeing 
if they would come.  She knew that no matter how much 
they loved her they wouldn't understand the importance 
of moving north.  So she would just not tell them.

And it was going to tear her up.

I hope I can help her get through this.

I took her hand as we walked up the steps and entered 
the elevator.  And I can see the turmoil in her mind. 
Please, God, what do I say?

"I love you."  I don't think that I've ever said that 
phrase so many times in one day.  I don't think that 
it's ever been this necessary.

Immediately she wraps her arms around my waist and 
hugs me fiercely.  I've never seen her this emotional.  
And then she's actually crying against my shirt.

"Love, I know that this is scary.  And I'm so proud 
of you.  Of the way that you're standing tall."  The 
elevator dings open and thankfully no one is waiting 
to get on.  We just stay where we are.  I pull her 
face back so that I can look into her tear streaked 
face.  I rub the trails dry with my thumb and plant 
a soft kiss on each cheek.  "It's allowed to hurt, 
and I'll be here for you."  She sniffs and burrows 
into my hand, giving me a weak smile.  "You're strong, 
love, and we'll talk and get through all this turmoil 
together, yeah?"

Her eyes close and she sighs.  I can see her mental 
walls coming back up to protect her and her business 
attitude is back again.  She's so beautiful.

"I love you too, John."  She reaches over and gives 
me a sound kiss and then opens the doors, dragging me 
along behind her by holding tightly onto my hand.  
She knocks on the door.

Scully answers, and I'm shocked to see her face.  It's 
a cross between ecstatic joy and immeasurable pain.  
She's got a lot to lose in this situation too, I 
realize.  Her whole family.

"Hey, Dana," Monica greets her, surprisingly with a hug, 
which Scully readily accepts.  Theirs is the kind of 
friendship that expands and keeps on growing.

At least that's what it looks like it's going to do.  
And I hope for both of their sakes that it does.  I 
would love to see that.

"Monica," she smiles genuinely and turns to me.  
"Com'on in, John.  Take a seat."  She closes the door 
behind us and heads into the kitchen, leaving us to 
take care of our jackets.  "Mulder's just changing 
William."  She sighs and the phrase sounds out of 
place coming from her, but I know that I'll be hearing 
a lot more in the future.  "Then we have some talking 
and planning to do."

Monica stealthily tries to stifle a yawn and I realize 
how tired I am too.  We've had little sleep since 
dinner last night and today is definitely going to be 
mentally trying.

I pull her to the couch and she settles down next to 
me, her head dropping to my shoulder.  I glance at my 
watch as I settle around her, and am shocked to see 
that it's actually 10 in the morning.  I look at the 
dark head of hair resting on me and for some reason 
I'm totally at ease in Scully's apartment.  I lay my 
head back and lose concentration for a little while, 
idly noticing soft voices in the kitchen over my 
shoulder, but not understanding what they're talking 
about.  I know I should care, but I don't have the 
energy.

I don't know how long we've lain there, but I'm 
shocked to open my eyes to Skinner, sitting on the 
Laz-Y-Boy across from us, eyeing us with interest.  
Monica's slipped a little in her sleep and her head 
is now resting on my thigh and my hand in softly 
relaxed upon her hair, stroking it.

Skinner notices that I'm awake and graces me with a 
little approving smile.

How the hell was I graced with so many good people in 
my life?

I crack my neck to the side, stretching, trying to not 
disturb the sleeping beauty on my lap.  She must have 
been exhausted.  But then again, I know I was, and I'm 
used to five hours of sleep a night.  She must have 
been.  I know how she's a slave to her bed.

Sleep wise,  I mean.

I see Scully out of the corner of my eye and turn to 
look at her.

"Would you like some coffee?"  she asks in her soothing 
voice, knowing that it wouldn't wake even William if he 
were sleeping in this room.

I smile and nod, knowing that my voice at this moment 
in time would definitely wake Monica.

"For her too?  The Gunmen'll be here in a couple of
minutes."  Implying that she was going to have to wake 
up soon, anyway.  I look at my watch and am shocked to 
see that it's quarter to 11.  45 minutes, but I feel 
like a new man.

I could get down to business now, but I also know that 
we have to wait for the other guys.  I still haven't 
seen Mulder, but I know that he's here somewhere.  
Probably watching William, being the soft-hearted man
that he is.  And just as I'm thinking that, I see him 
walk into the living room with his son cradled in his
big arms.  Amazing how such a lanky man could be so 
graceful with such a tiny thing like William.  He'll 
make an excellent father.

I gently hold Monica's head and slip out from under 
her, barely moving her, and place a pillow under her 
to compensate for the loss of my leg.

I stand and take in the relaxed atmosphere of the room, 
knowing with a sinking feeling that the relative calm 
in this apartment will vanish with the arrival of the 
Gunmen.  I think that William knows this too, because 
he begins to fuss and swing his tiny little fists in 
an attempt reach for something.  Mulder gives him his 
finger and the little boy latches on with his mouth, 
beginning to suck in earnest.

"Oh, I don't think so, little guy.  You'll have to 
talk to your mother about that."  He smiles wistfully 
and heads into the kitchen to find Scully.

I stand a little awkwardly, not knowing my place in 
this house.  Skinner has become somewhat of a mentor 
for Mulder, the father that Mulder never had and I 
too have begun to hold him in that regard.  But I
don't have the seven or eight years of history that 
Mulder does.  I scratch my head and look around until 
my eyes fall on Monica.

I can't help the smile that spreads onto my face.  I 
know I belong here somewhere, or Mulder would never 
have asked me to consider going up north.  And I know 
that I'll find my place soon enough.

When there's a knock at the door, I move to answer it,
knowing what three men will be standing on the other 
side.

And I also know that the rest of my life will never 
be the same after I let them cross the threshold.

I'm amazed with myself that I don't even hesitate to 
let them in.

Hell on earth, here we come.

END PART ONE