CHAPTER 21

"John!" she sighed, watching as he grinned and limped toward 
her. "Are you okay?" she asked solicitously, patting the seat next 
to her. "Want to sit down?"

He grinned more broadly. "Remember that cactus?"

"Actually, I'd forgotten," she smiled. "How is your..."

"I'll live," he cut her off. "Their little infirmary is quite a 
sight. They have everything imaginable there." He leaned over the 
back of the sofa and bent to kiss her upturned face before 
announcing, "I think I need a nap," and limping toward their 
bedroom. He flopped belly-down onto the bed and groaned. Just as he 
closed his eyes he felt the bed bounce. "What?" he cried out, 
keeping his eyes closed and hugging his pillow.

Monica gently touched the wound she saw at the back of his head, 
making him flinch. "Do you have a concussion?" she asked. Her hand 
migrated from the back of his head to the small of his back and 
traced gentle circles over the muscles.

"I don't think so," John's muffled voice answered from the comfort of 
the pillow.

"Because if you do," she continued. "You shouldn't fall asleep. You 
should stay awake."

"Aw Mon..." he moaned, turning his head to look into her face. "Not 
now... Everything hurts..."

Her hand continued its gentle massage as she lay down to face 
him. "I wasn't thinking of that," she smiled. "What about our 
appointment with Tomás?"

He groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

"John," she crooned. "We don't know how much time we have here. We 
should make the most of it."

His head raised up off the pillow and he pushed up with his 
hands. "You're right," he said, then turned to his side, carefully 
keeping his cactus wounds safe. "There's a leak somewhere, and the 
more we know... I mean, how many of these kids are there? Gibson, 
Lita, maybe William?"

Monica's face grew somber at the mention of the infant given up by 
Scully. "And how did they find him? Where was the leak? Was it 
someone here? Someone in the communication chain? Child Protective 
Services?"

"Exactly," John aggreed, gingerly rising from the bed. He held out 
his hand to help her up. "We need to find out what happened. If 
they could find him here..."

"I know," Monica finished, standing at his side. They walked slowly 
into the living room to find Gibson standing thoutfully at the 
fireplace. "Gibson?" Monica said with more tenderness than John had 
heard before. She walked to the boy and put a hand on his 
shoulder. "Are you ready for your meeting with Martha?"

The boy nodded solemnly then suddenly wrapped his arms around her 
waist. She rubbed his back as John looked on in amazement, and asked 
in a low, soothing voice, "Are you afraid that someone else will come 
for you now?" Gibson nodded and squeezed tighter. Monica continued 
rubbing his back and rocking him gently until she felt his arms 
relax. After a final hug she pulled away from him. "The next time 
it happens, we'll be prepared," she assured him. "You'll be able to 
defend yourself."

"After we finish with Tomás and Martha, the three of us should have a 
talk, okay?" John added. "I want to know more about your parents."

"I want some of Catherine's bullets," he announced.

John smiled and approached him slowly. Putting his hand on the boy's 
shoulder, he said, "Me too. We could all use some of her courage, 
too."

"Tonight has taught us that we have to be prepared," Monica said, 
rubbing Gibson's other shoulder. "There's more to it than magic 
bullets."

"I know," Gibson said, looking into Monica's face then John's. "I 
haven't changed my mind. I'll do whatever it takes."

*******************
On the way to the front gate John and Monica filled each other in on 
their parts in the nights' events, and when they arrived at the gate 
they found there was no trace of the two supersoldiers or their SUV. 
Monica sighed heavily and looked up at the stars. "They're out 
there," she said thoughtfully. "Ten light-years away? Or maybe 
closer but just waiting for the right moment?"

John squeezed her hand. "They've got one helluva fight ahead of them 
if they want to invade this planet," he reassured her. He watched 
her face, reading her desire to believe him and her fear that he may 
be wrong, sensing her emotions with an accuracy that been honed for 
many years. "I mean, Monica..." he added brightly. "If little old 
ladies are blowing holes in peoples' heads..."

Monica smiled and returned John's squeeze. "You're right. But what 
if..."

John grabbed her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "No 
what if's. We're going to beat them. Whatever it takes." He took a 
deep breath as she nodded. "And even *if* we don't, we'll go down 
fighting." He kissed her lips then added, "Together."

Lights flashed through the bars of the gate, making the pair step 
back cautiously, their hands shielding their eyes.

When they heard Tomás at the gate ask, "Are you ready?" they exhaled 
together, then followed Tomás to his SUV. Both were trying to peek 
at the back of his neck, but the crucial vertebrae were concealed by 
his white collar. They sat in the rear seat, hoping for another 
opportunity as Tomás turned the ignition, when they saw Mother 
Catherine come charging out of the gate.

"How did this happen?" she yelled to the Tomás. "Did you do this? 
Was it you?" She shook a fist as she neared the SUV.

Tomás' face paled. He turned the keys in the ignition to "off" and 
rolled down his window. "No, it wasn't me, I swear!" he yelled 
plaintively. "I.. I don't know what happened!"

The elderly woman grabbed him by the front of his vestment and pulled 
him partway through his window. She bent his head forward forcefully 
with her elbow, then grabbed his collar and pulled it away from his 
neck. She felt his neck then, satisfied, she threw him back into the 
vehicle. "Well at least you're not one of them," she hmphed. "And 
you don't have any idea?" she quizzed him. She sighed and looked 
into the back seat. "Okay," she decided. "You can continue working 
with them... but I want them *here,* understand?" As if there was no 
question of his obedience she opened the gate further.

She led them to the cottage, filling Tomás in on the events of the 
evening as they walked. At the door she pulled a small bottle from 
an inner pocket and handed it to Monica. "Here," she ordered. "It's 
good for cactus wounds."

John blushed and opened the door, turning his back on Catherine as 
she finished her instructions to Monica. He found a comfortable 
position on the sofa and sat waiting for the others to join him. 
Tomás entered first, taking the rocker by the fireplace. He and John 
smiled awkwardly at each other as they waited, but John felt no 
invasion of his mental space. He was relieved, considering his mind 
was mostly on the pain. When Monica still hadn't entered, John felt 
he had to break the silence. "So... How about them Lakers?" he said 
with forced casualness.

Tomás leaned forward. "What do you really want to ask me, Mr. 
Doggett?"

"You're going to make me say it?" he said with surprise.

"That's what you want, isn't it? To have to work up the courage to 
say what's really..."

"Okay, okay," Doggett admitted. He sighed and considered not saying 
anything more, but Tomás' crack about courage got to him. "I've 
asked Monica to..."

Just then Monica opened the door, cheerily striding into the bedroom 
with her salves, bandages and another packet John didn't recognize. 
Tomás leaned further forward and whispered, "Yes, I'd be happy to do 
that for you." He leaned back and started rocking the chair 
nonchalantly while John smiled at him. "Sometimes it's best this 
way, don't you think?" Tomás asked, his smugness not erasing John's 
relief at not having to speak.

When Monica returned she sat at the opposite end of the sofa and 
smiled serenely at John. He looked puzzled but resolved to continue 
their instructions and ask her later. Tomás took a lighter from his 
pocket and lit the candles around the room, then turned out the 
electric lights. "Today we'll start where we left off last time," he 
said in a soft, gentle voice. "Monica, we'll repeat the exercise 
with a visual image from me, then I want to try having you hold a 
word in your mind. Then I'd like John to try holding that word and 
allowing me to hear it. Okay?"

They both nodded, Monica enthusiastically crossing her legs and 
assuming her meditative pose, John awkwardly shifting his legs and 
eyeing Tomás skeptically. "Let's get this over with," Doggett 
grumbled.

Despite his skepticism, John easily found the mental image in 
Monica's mind: a red rose, the same color as the ones in the 
courtyard. He smiled in spite of himself, and Tomás got the 
message. "Okay," Tomás said. "Let's try a more difficult image." 
Tomás stared into Monica's eyes, then she turned and fixed her eyes 
on John's. Tomás could see that John was having trouble. "Close 
your eyes. Both of you," he ordered in a gentle yet commanding 
voice. "Focus only on thoughts. Not on what you see."

John shifted painfully then sighed, unsure whether this psychic stuff 
was really going to work. 'Focus,' he heard a voice say in his 
head. 'You need to be able to do this.' He took a deep breath then 
put all his energy into Monica's mind. Suddenly the image of the 
Pentagon popped into his mind.

"The Pentagon?" he said, like a child guessing on a math question.

Monica and Tomás beamed at him. "I think he's getting the hang of 
this!" Monica exclaimed.

John smirked, remembering a time not so long ago when she'd said 
almost those same words, when she'd taken that first important step 
forward in their relationship and he responded in kind. It seemed so 
long ago, but it was only a few months.

"Now, John," Tomás instructed. "Place an image in your mind. Try to 
hold it, and let Monica see it. I promise I won't peek. And Monica, 
tell us what you see the second you see it."

Tomás watched as John struggled to train his mind on an image, and 
Monica struggled to keep her mind blank and receptive. Suddenly 
Monica grinned broadly. "I think I saw it," she announced.

"Good!" John grinned impishly. He pulled something from his pocket 
and held it in his outstretched hand for her to see. "Did it look 
something like this."

Monica gasped. It was a diamond engagement ring. "Yes," she sighed, 
taking it. "And... yes," she added, leaning forward to kiss him.