From: "SciFi NerdGrl" <scifinerdgrl@hotmail.com>
Date: Wed, 01 Oct 2003 20:43:47 -0400
Subject: NEW: Children of the Via (1/3)
Source: direct

Title: Children of the Via (1/3)
Author: Scifinerdgrl
Rating: NC-17
Category: XR
Keywords: Doggett/Reyes relationship (married), Gibson Praise,
William, mytharc super soldiers, post-series
Spoilers: William, The Truth

Summary: Now married, Doggett and Reyes care for Gibson Praise
and William as they hide out under the protection of a secret
network of telepaths.  Sequel to Via Sub Rosa, a post-series DRR
story.

Feedback: scifinerdgrl@hotmail.com, scifinerdgrl@yahoo.com



Chapter One


John Doggett looked across to his wife of only an hour and
smiled.  She'd wedged her head between the passenger seat and the
door, keeping a watchful eye over their secret cargo, Scully's
son, William.

"We can't keep him, you know," he reminded her.  "I'm sure the
Via Sub Rosa wants us to take him to Scully."

"How do you know that?  Did you read Tomas's mind?" Monica shot
back, more defensively than either of them expected.

"I don't think anyone can read that guy's mind," John snorted.
"But ..."

"Rosalita could," Gibson piped up from the back seat.

"Yeah?" John and Monica responded in unison.

"I believe it," Monica continued.  "Did she know about William?"

Gibson shook his head.  "She had no idea."  He stroked William's
tiny foot and repeated softly, "She had no idea about any of it."

John and Monica exchanged glances, sharing concern for their
adolescent foster child and his first girlfriend, left behind
when they'd escaped the wrath of the black helicopters that
destroyed the monastery where they'd been hiding.

"That's probably best," Monica assured him.  "She was already
carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders."

"Yeah," Gibson croaked.  He leaned against the window and stared
out the window at the New Mexico desert.  "I don't think anybody
but Tomas and Mother Catherine knew what was going to happen."

John adjusted the rearview mirror, framing Gibson's face and
studying it with an investigator's eye.  "There's a leak in the
Via's network.  I just assumed..."

"They weren't the leak, if that's what you're thinking," Gibson
said.  Of course it *was* what they were thinking.  Gibson's
prodigious psychic ability never failed him, and John smirked at
the boy's quip.

"How did they know, then?" Monica asked.

Gibson shrugged then glanced out the window again.  "They got
their instructions on e-mail."

The coded messages that the Via sent when the psychic network
wouldn't work, Monica remembered.  They had learned their codes
too.  "John..." She placed a hand on Doggett's sleeve.  "I think
it's time to pull over."

John glanced at the side mirror.  Thick black smoke clung to the
horizon, but the helicopters seemed to be gone, and no other
vehicles were on the road.  He pulled to the shoulder and slowed
to a stop, looking around them for signs of trouble as he did so.
"Well?" he asked after putting the SUV in "park."

"We need to figure out what we're doing," Monica said.  "Are we
going to try to find Scully and return William to her?"


Even William seemed to sense the tension her question generated.
John turned in his seat, glancing at all three expectant faces in
turn.  "Let's see what Tomas packed in our wedding present before
we answer that."  He left the SUV running, just in case, and went
around to the back.

Their SUV, most likely cobbled together in a chop shop, carried
several boxes John recognized from his "job" as delivery driver
for the monastery.  These boxes, marked "For the Nuns," were
taken in trade for boxes of  magnetite-laced bullets smelted in
the monastery's secret underground factory.

"Whaddaya think?" John asked, draping one arm over Monica's
shoulders and the other over Gibson's.  "There must be
instructions in here somewhere."

Before either could answer, William, still in his car seat, let
out a blood-curdling scream followed by more typical infant's
cries.

"He's frightened," Gibson said.  "He doesn't want to be alone."

Monica blanched and rushed to the door, flinging it open.  Within
seconds she had William clutched tightly in her arms, and though
he stopped crying almost immediately, she continued rocking side
to side as John joined her.  He put an arm around her waist and
said gently, "All babies are afraid to be alone, Monica."

But she didn't hear him.  She bent her head to whisper to
William, "I'm so sorry.  I wasn't thinking..."

John pulled at the baby's waist, and as Monica struggled to hang
onto him, she suddenly realized it was John who was pulling.

"Monica," he pleaded.  "It's okay."

Reluctantly, Monica let go and watched John pull the baby into
his strong arms.  She was almost disappointed to see that William
seemed happy to be with John, but not disappointed to see John's
instinctive smile at the feel of a baby in his arms.  Especially
this baby.

"Come on," John nodded, walking toward the back of the SUV.

Monica followed as if pulled by a strong magnet, then put one
hand on the small of John's back as she stroked the back of
William's head with the other.  Gibson watched this exchange, and
the swirl of powerful emotions from all three made him take a few
steps backward.

"Gibson?" John turned and looked down into the short boy's face.
Although he wasn't sure what he was seeing, or rather sensing, in
Gibson, he could tell that Gibson was feeling uncomfortable.
"Want to hold him?  You two seem to have a connection."

John didn't wait for an answer.  He turned William around and
dangled him in front of Gibson.

"John..." Monica warned, but John edged in front of her, keeping
her from taking William herself.

Finally, Gibson took William, and the baby looked up into his
face as if he'd known him all his short life.  Gibson's face
broke out into a broad smile and he looked up at John.  "He likes
me," he said with some amazement.

"Of course he does, Gibson," John reassured him.  "Who wouldn't?"
He turned to Monica, smiling as broadly as Gibson.  "See?  He
just didn't want to be alone.  No baby does."

Monica flushed as she realized what John was up to.  "I know,"
she pouted.

"Come on," John said, seemingly oblivious to her distress.
"Let's see what they packed for us."

The pulled enough boxes and packages from the SUV to make a
center aisle, then started opening them.

"Diapers," Monica announced.  "Lots of them."  She looked up at
John, whose shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Let's see what else is in here." John slit open the top of one
box and found clothes in his size.  The next box held clothes in
Gibson's size.  "This is too much," he said.

"If we're not going back to Washington we need it," Monica argued
as she slit open another box.  Baby clothes, toys, and a book on
caring for babies.  She held it up for John to see.

"Monica," John said softly, crouching to her level and looking
over the box into her eyes.  "He's not ours.  Don't go making
assumptions here..."

"I'm won't," she said. "But you shouldn't either."

He reached across and stroked her cheek. "I promise."

When they'd finished their inventory, they calculated two weeks'
of supplies, including food, water, and camping gear, and several
deliveries of magnetite-laced bullets and other goods.

"Well?" John asked, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the
goods.  "We still don't know where we're going with this stuff."

"Mexico," Gibson said.

"Excuse me?" John demanded.

Gibson handed William to John then went to his seat, returning
with his bag.  He fished out his gameboy, hit the buttons in a
specific pattern, then turned the it around and showed it to John
and Monica.

The tiny screen clearly showed a map of Mexico, with splotches of
color throughout in a random pattern that became brighter and
denser toward the Yucatan.  "This is why you wanted a gameboy?"
John asked.

Gibson blushed and looked to Monica for support, but she glowered
at him with the same betrayal in her eyes.  "I didn't mean to
keep secrets, but..."

"You were afraid we'd be overheard," Monica finished for him.
"And you couldn't trust us."

"We've been working on that blocking thing," John reminded him.
"Haven't we gotten any better?"

Gibson blushed for a different reason then said lamely, "A
little."

"So what else have you kept from us, Gibson?" Monica demanded.

**************************

William fussed, a faint, almost inaudible cry that instantly
caught  Monica's attention.  She reached out for him and his tiny
arms reached for her.  John handed him over to her and said,
"Where were those diapers again?"

As Monica started diapering the baby, John's eyes bored into
Gibson's.  "Well?" he asked after a few moments' frustration
trying to read the boy's mind.  "Are you keeping any other
secrets?"

"A few," Gibson admitted.  "But it's for your own good."

"We were the ones who promised to protect *you* remember." John's
eyes never left Gibson's face.  "How can we do that if you're
keeping secrets?"

"These secrets don't involve you," Gibson said defiantly.  "But
knowing them puts you in danger."

"Doesn't knowing them put *you* in danger?" John asked.  "So
being with you put Monica and me in danger anyway...  and him,"
he nodded to William.

Gibson gulped and looked away.  "Just trust me, okay?"

Monica returned to John's side.  "Gibson..." she said gravely.

"Lita's going to try to meet us.  At Isla Mujeres," he admitted.
"If she's okay," he added, his lower lip quivering almost
imperceptibly.

John smiled. "And now that we know, you're going to have to kill
us, right?"

Gibson smirked.  "I'm a good shot, remember."

"Gibson," Monica said, moving William from one hip to the other.
"If there's more, and something happens to him..."

"I'll protect him," Gibson said.  "I promise."

"What else is on that gameboy?" Monica demanded.

Gibson sighed.  "Am I a suspect?"

"Not yet," Monica said.

"We haven't read you your rights yet," John said. Monica shot him
a glance, but John continued.  "Does that thing say anything
about William?  Where we're supposed to be taking him?"

Gibson shook his head.  "It's just about the Via, where the
safehouses are."

"There's one on Isla Mujeres?" Monica asked.

"That whole island is a safe house," Gibson replied.  "It's kind
of central."

"Kind of central?" John repeated.

Gibson nodded.  "Well, very central.  You might say, ground
zero."

"Isla Mujeres?" mused John.  "Doesn't that mean Woman's Island?"

"Yes," Monica said.

She took a breath and was about to say more when John
interrupted.  "Woman's Island," he muttered.  "That's just
great."

Gibson snickered until Monica shot him a punishing glance.

"It's a resort island off Cancún," Monica explained.

"That's a relief." John said with a wink.  "Gibson and I were
getting estrogen poisoning in that convent!"

"Yes, I've noticed the man-boobs you two have developed," Monica
said.  She marched to the SUV and started strapping William into
his car seat.

John and Gibson sneaked downward glances to their chests, then
snapped to attention when Monica called out, "And now that we
know our destination, shouldn't we get going?"

Her men exchanged a brief "What's with her?" glance then began
their well-rehearsed loading routine, honed during their
deliveries of magnetite bullets, with Gibson in the SUV arranging
boxes as John lifted them over the tailgate.

When the SUV was almost completely repacked, John's eye caught a
glimpse of a dust cloud approaching in the distance.

"Oh crap," he said, to nobody in particular.


"John," Monica called out.

"Stay back," he warned as he stepped away from their vehicle.  He
tossed Gibson the keys.  "Here.  Go wherever we're supposed to
go.  I'll catch up with you later."

"John!  Get in!" Monica yelled when she saw John walking toward
the strange vehicle.  Then when Gibson started the ignition, she
grabbed his arm and shouted "NO!" but the boy slid forward in the
seat and floored the accelerator.  The SUV roared but stayed put.

"Shift to DRIVE!" John shouted, but it was too late.  Monica had
grabbed the ignition key and shut the engine off.

With determination Monica never knew he had, Gibson elbowed
Monica out of the way, restarted the ignition, and shifted the
gears.  The SUV lurched forward then sped along the shoulder as
the boy struggled to see over the steering wheel while keeping
his foot on the pedal.

Monica watched through the rear window as the strange vehicle
slowed to a stop next to her husband.  "That's far enough,
Gibson," she said, trying to keep both her voice and her emotions
calm.  "Let's see who it is."

Gibson obeyed, but Monica could see he was scared to death.

John held up his hands as the SUV approached, paying special
attention to the magnetite-laced wedding ring that would vibrate
if the strangers were super soldiers.

But when he saw who was in the SUV he lowered his arms.  "What do
*you* want," he sneered as Brad Follmer got out.

"Is that the way to greet someone who has gone to a lot of
trouble on your behalf?"  Follmer asked.

"Yes, it is.  Go back where you came from!" Doggett ordered.

"Big talk for a man in trouble," Follmer said.

Skinner appeared at Follmer's side.  "Do you know what that," he
nodded toward the destroyed monastery in the distance.  "was all
about?"

"Nope," John answered.  "Not a clue."

Skinner and Follmer looked at him skeptically.  "Can I buy a
vowel?" Follmer asked.

"You can buy the whole damn alphabet," Doggett sneered.  "But I
can't tell you a thing.  Now if you'll excuse me..."

As Doggett turned to leave, Follmer said, "Enjoy your honeymoon.
Just don't try going to Mexico."


CHAPTER TWO

Doggett stopped in his tracks.

"Where do you think they're all looking for you?" Skinner asked.

Doggett gulped then turned around.  "Are her parents okay?"

"They're safe," Skinner assured him.  "But they're being
watched."

"Closely," Follmer added.

"And they're worried about her, of course," Skinner said.
"They're trying to find her too."

"How?" Doggett asked.

"Private investigator," Follmer said.  "He's very good."

"Did he -- " Doggett started, but he could see the answer in
their faces.  "Yeah, that's how you found us."

Follmer and Skinner nodded.

"Are you sure you can trust him?" Doggett asked, nodding toward
the smoky horizon.  "Somebody sent those helicopters."

"Whoever destroyed that Anasazi ruin destroyed that place too.
But they weren't following you," Skinner said.

"They've gone after a few other places in the Southwest," Follmer
added.  "And they're all peaceful communities, just like your
little love nest."

Doggett decided to let the comment go, and contemplated the
implications of this latest piece of news.  "I think I know what
they're after, then."

Follmer arched his eyebrows and was about to ask what it was,
when they saw the chop shop SUV coming toward them.

Doggett turned and ran toward it, shouting, "I told you to..."
But he had to jump out of the way as the SUV's inexperienced
driver mistook the accelerator for the brake pedal.

The SUV sped toward the other SUV, on a collision course until
Monica grabbed the wheel and forced it onto the shoulder.  It
came to a stop a hundred feet past Skinner and Follmer's vehicle,
leaving a cloud of dust on the rarely-used road.

As the dust began to settle, Monica, William in her arms, got out
and ran toward John.  "Are you crazy?  Telling Gibson to take off
like that?"

John ran toward her.  "Go!  Get outta here.  I'll catch up with
you."

Monica nodded toward her former lover, "He's not going to hurt
us." Then she nodded toward their former boss.  "He won't
either."

"When I tell you to go, you should GO!" John shouted, the veins
on his neck starting to show.  "We have TWO kids to take care of
now, Monica.  I have to know I can trust you on that."

Remembering their escape from the Anasazi ruins, when she'd
refused to leave John's side and his subsequent scolding about
it, Monica nodded.  "You can, John.  But you can't over-react.
We need you."

"Monica," John began to scold, more patronizingly and less angry
now, but she interrupted.

"They're not Luke, John," she said with gentle resolve.  "You
won't fail them."

John nodded, suddenly realizing his confidence about Gibson had
been propped up by the Via's protection.  "They *are* Luke,
Monica," he countered.  "They're defenseless, and they're in
danger."

Suddenly they heard Brad's voice sneering, "Well, aren't we the
happy couple?  Having our first marital argument already?"

Monica glowered at him and instinctively pulled William's head
toward her shoulder.  "What do you want, Brad?"

"I want you to be safe," he answered.  "I need to know you won't
go to Mexico."

"I can't tell you where we're going," Monica said.  "And don't
try to follow us again."  She couldn't help looking toward the
smoky horizon.

Brad's eyes followed her gaze.  "That wasn't us, Monica.  We're
on your side.... And we're careful."

John put his arm around Monica's waist.  "Tell her parents she's
fine," he said.

"You've been in touch with my parents?" Monica exclaimed.
"When?"

Skinner broke in.  "Not directly.  Their private investigator.
But we can get them a message."

"Tell them I'm happy," she said, looking pointedly at Brad.
"Tell them I'm married and I'll see them soon."

"I'll tell them you're married -- they need to hear that.  But I
won't tell them you're visiting them," Brad said.  Monica's lips
closed in a tight line that made Brad squirm, but he persisted.
"I'm serious, Monica.  If you care about them, you'll stay away."
Then he nodded toward William, "And if you care about him, you'll
let us take him."

"I've heard enough," John snapped.  "Come on, Monica."

They turned toward their SUV, pointedly refusing to turn their
heads when Follmer shouted, "You're making a big mistake!"

When John and Monica returned to the SUV they found Gibson,
ashen-faced, staring over the steering wheel toward the destroyed
monastery.  John opened the driver's door and leaned in, saying,
"Let's you and me have a little talk.

Gibson got out, and John put an arm across the boy's shoulders.
"Do you want to go back?  Check on them?" he asked, nodding
toward the monastery.

Gibson shook his head.  "They're not there."

His eyes on the horizon, John said, "Okay, then."  He put his
hands in his pockets and sighed.  "Those men, they warned us not
to go to Mexico."

"But we have to!" Gibson shrieked.

"Because of Lita?" John asked.

"Not just her," Gibson said.  "All of us."

John's brow furrowed slightly but he kept his eyes on the
horizon.  "The people of the Via?"

"No," Gibson said gravely.  "All humans, everyone."

John turned to Gibson, studying the boys face, and for the first
time he felt the stirrings of a psychic connection with him.
Following the meditation techniques he'd learned from Tomas, he
relaxed his mind as much as he could, giving permission for the
image Gibson was sending to enter his mind.

At first the image was foggy, or perhaps smoky, with graceful,
willowy figures ambling in front of a large object that some part
of him recognized as a space craft.  But as soon as John thought
about what he was seeing, the image vanished, like a soap bubble
that burst, turning into a few silky droplets that could be
followed, but would never be a bubble again.

"Sorry, Gibson," John said.  "I didn't quite get all of that."

"It's Lita's image, her memory," Gibson explained.

John's eyebrows shot upward in surprise.  "Lita was with them?"

Gibson shook his head.  "Not Lita.  It's her family's memory.
One of them.  She gave them to me for safe keeping."  Gibson's
face threatened to crumple under the weight of his next words,
but he forced himself to say them anyway.  "In case something
happened to her.  She's the last..."

John reached for Gibson's shoulder.  "So that's your secret," he
said.  He quickly appraised the implications of these memories,
then glanced over his shoulder toward Skinner and Follmer, who
hadn't moved.  "I hate to ask you to do this, Gibson, but..."

"You want me to size them up," Gibson said.  "See if they're
lying."

"See if you can find out why they don't want us going to Mexico,"
John said.  "I don't trust him."  He nodded toward Follmer, and
Gibson rolled his eyes.

"He's harmless," he snorted.  "He still loves her, is all.  He's
trying to protect her.

John's eyes narrowed.  This confirmation of his suspicions
brought up uncomfortable feelings, feelings that he'd never
wanted to admit to himself.  His thoughts were interrupted by
Gibson's unexpected pronouncement:

"It's the other one you have to worry about.  A.D. Skinner."

"What?" John exclaimed.  "Skinner?!?!"

Gibson nodded.  "He's worried about Mulder and Scully.  He and
Follmer have a deal.  He helps Follmer find us, Follmer helps him
find them."

Doggett knitted his eyebrows.  "How does that...?"

"He'll sell us out if he has to," Gibson said.  "He doesn't know
what we know.  He doesn't know how important we are."

"That could be good or bad for us," John assessed.

Skinner looked up, as if he could tell they were talking about
him.  "He cares about me.  And he cares about William," Gibson
said.

"So Monica and I are safe as long as we're with you?" John asked.

"And we're only safe if we're with you," Gibson answered.

"John?" Monica called out, bouncing William in her arms as if
she'd been born to the job.  She had been standing several feet
away the whole time, looking anxiously toward Skinner and
Follmer.

"C'mon," John clapped Gibson on the back.  "And that was just
between us, right?"

"Wouldn't that be a secret?" Gibson asked.

"Yes, it would," John admitted.

When they were all together again, John took a deep breath and
said, "Let's go."

"Where to?" Monica asked.

"Mexico," John said resolutely.  "Gibson, you're driving."


CHAPTER THREE

They drove Northward, until they were sure Skinner and Follmer
hadn't followed them, then doubled back and headed South.  John
sat shotgun, feeding Gibson hints and tips about driving in a
running monologue until Monica had nodded off.  "I'll tell her,
Gibson," he whispered.  "Just not now."

"I know," Gibson said.  "I won't keep my secret either."

Hours later, Monica awoke with a start when a streak of orange
from the setting sun flashed over her eyes.  "Wha---" she
started, then checked on William, sleeping contentedly next to
her.

"You okay, Monica?" John asked, turning in his seat.

"Nightmares," she said, shaking her head to dislodge the memory.
"Fire, helicopters..."

"Everything's fine," John assured her.  "We haven't been
followed.  In fact, we have only seen a few other vehicles."

"It's damn boring," Gibson said.

"Gibson!" Monica scolded.

"He's right," John agreed.  "Damn boring.  And that's the real
risk of highway driving, Gibson."

"I wasn't talking about the driving," Gibson said, rolling his
eyes.

Monica saw Gibson's expression in the rearview mirror and
chuckled.  "Maybe it's time to take a potty break & switch
drivers."

"Let's go to that gas station a few miles back," John said.  "God
knows when we'll find another one."

Gibson stopped the SUV and turned it around as John bit his
tongue, then he accelerated, a little faster than he'd expected.
The SUV swerved, but Gibson corrected before John could give him
orders.

"Way to go, Gibson," John said when he'd caught his breath.

The station had one gas pump, a small food store, and a
single-bay service area.  A tall, thin man with unexpectedly
loose jowls and a shock of gray hair combed carefully over his
balding scalp met them as they pulled to the pump.

"Regular?" the man said, directing himself to John.

"Yeah," John answered.  He squinted to read the name on the man's
shirt.  "Thanks, Pete."

"I need the ladies room," Monica said.  "And a changing table."

Pete looked sympathetically toward Monica and William then said,
"It's unisex.  It don't look like much but it's clean and there's
a little table."

After Monica and William were inside, John got out and stretched.
"It's been a lo-o-o-ng day!" he said.

Pete kept his hand on the pump as if it were a lifeline.  "Where
you headed?"

Gibson got out and stretched, saying "Yeah, a long day!"

"Don't want to say?  Okay. None of my business..." Pete topped
off the gas then added, "Only you got Mexican tags and you sure
as shit ain't Spics."

"The wife's Mexican," John explained, trying to keep his voice
nonchalant.  "This heap belongs to her parents."

Pete seemed satisfied, and screwed the cap back on.  "She don't
look like a Spic either, but then I've seen some that were blond,
even!"

"I'll tell her that," John said.

"And you!" Pete said to Gibson, who was taking a step toward the
little store.  "Are you old enough to drive?"

"I'm sixteen," Gibson snarled.

"He's short for his age," John said.  "He's a little sensitive
about it."

"Ahh, okay, then.  In Mexico him driving wouldn't give anyone
pause, but here..."  Pete paused to take a bandanna from his hip
pocket then wipe the sweat off his forehead.

"Yeah, we know," Gibson said, then he stomped off toward the
store.

"Lucky you." Pete winked at John.  "You get to go through the
teen years twice.  My two boys were born a year apart.  I got it
over with all at once."  He passed the bandanna over his eyes,
then said, "Glad *those* years are over!"

"He's a good kid," John said defensively.  "If I could have a
hundred more like him, I would."

"Be careful what you wish for," Pete said knowingly.  "You just
might get it!"

****************

Gibson paced inside the little food store until he came to the
magazine rack.  He fingered the Seventeen Magazine, the magazine
Monica had picked out for Lita.  When John told Gibson he would
be driving, he knew why.  To keep his mind off Lita.  And now
that his mind wasn't on the road...

Even though he dimly sensed Monica's presence behind him, her
hand on his shoulder made him jump.  "I'm worried about her too,
Gibson," she said.  "But we have to believe that she's all right,
and that we'll see her again."

Gibson smiled wistfully then let his hand fall away from the
magazine and drift upward to grab William's foot.  He rubbed the
tiny sock thoughtfully and said, "You thought you'd never see
*him* again, and here he is."

"Yes," she said.

"You were angry with Scully for giving him up," Gibson said.

"At first, yes," Monica admitted.  "But I understand now.  She
did the right thing."

"You wouldn't do the same thing though, would you?" Gibson
challenged.  "You won't give him up."

Monica pursed her lips and thought for a moment.  "I'll do
whatever's best for him," she said finally.  "And until I know
what that is..."  William reached out for Gibson, who took him
into his arms despite Monica's reluctance to let go.  "He's one
of us, isn't he?" she asked.

Gibson nodded.  "That shot?  It only took away his vulnerability
to magnetite.  It didn't change anything else."

"So... he's not one of us.  He's one of them," she said, thinking
out loud.  "He's a super soldier?"

Gibson jiggled William, who seemed delighted with everything
Gibson did.  "Not anymore," he said.  "Now he's better than a
super soldier."

*****

CHAPTER FOUR

Monica's mind raced through the implications of Gibson's
statement.  Would super soldiers be coming after William?  Were
aliens looking for him?   And what about the babies John found in
that orphanage?  Were they the same way, or was William the only
one?  Then there was the shadow government, and all the people
who had chased the People of the Via into hiding over the
centuries....

"We won't let anything happen to him," Gibson said.  He leaned
his head down to rub his cheek over the fuzz topping William's
head.  "That's why Tomas trusted us with him."

"I hope his faith wasn't misplaced," she sighed.  "We've had two
close calls now..."

"But don't you see?" Gibson said.  "The helicopters are after the
safe houses, not us.  It's only when a super soldier dies that
they know where the magnetite is.  If we can stay ahead of
them..."

"Exactly," Monica nodded.

"We will," Gibson said.  William began to squirm and cry, making
it hard for Gibson to keep hold of him.  "He's hungry," Gibson
said, looking helplessly up at Monica.

"Get some water," she ordered as she took William from Gibson's
arms.  "We'll need it to mix his formula."

When Monica returned to the SUV she found John leaning against
the SUV as Pete washed the windshields.  "Everything okay in
there?" he asked, nodding toward the fussing child.

"Sorry," she said.  "He's hungry."

Gibson followed a moment later with two bottles of water, then
gave one to Monica.  He started drinking the other one himself,
then joined John.  "We'll need more water," he said, nodding
toward the back of the SUV, where Monica was mixing a bottle for
William.

John busied himself filling water bottles, visiting the lavatory,
and paying Pete while Monica fed William and Gibson looked on.
When he returned to the SUV William was still nursing happily on
his bottle, nestled comfortably in Monica's arms.  He sighed,
then looked away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.  Not knowing
what else to do, he wandered toward the highway, pacing first
Southward then Northward until Gibson's voice made him start.

"John..." Gibson said softly.

"I know, Gibson," John said.  "I just can't help it."

Gibson put his hands in his pockets and looked toward the same
horizon that seemed to have captured John's attention.  "You
don't want him?"

"I don't want her to get attached to him," John said.  "It's not
right."

"You don't want yourself to get attached," Gibson countered.

John glowered at Gibson.  "Didn't we have a conversation about
this, Gibson?"

"About me telling you what you feel?" Gibson asked, defiant
despite the blush creeping up his neck.

"It's rude, Gibson," John snapped.

"But it's true, isn't it?" Gibson looked directly into John's
eyes.  "You're afraid that something will happen to him, and
then..."

"Gibson, stop it!" John yelled, then started walking away from
Gibson.

Gibson yelled back, "He's not Luke, any more than I am!"

John stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned and faced Gibson.
"No, you're not Luke," he said.  "I never thought you were."

"Never?" Gibson asked, his forehead lined with the same
skepticism that had often furrowed John's brow.

"Okay, maybe a little... once..." John admitted.  "But you're
just Gibson to me now.  Your own person."

"Can't William be his own person?" Gibson asked.

"He's just a baby, Gibson," John pleaded.  "They're all alike.
They cry.  They sleep.  They dirty their diapers..."

"If you never get to know him, how would you know?" Gibson asked.

"Gibson," John's tone was somewhat patronizingly, Gibson thought.
"He may only be with us for a few days."

"Or he could be with us forever," Gibson pouted.  "When you
promised to take care of me, wasn't forever part of that
promise?"

"Yes, of course it was!" John said.  "But this is different."

"How?" Gibson crossed his arms and waited for John to answer, but
John had no answer.  "I thought so," Gibson concluded, then
started back to the SUV.

John followed close behind, and when he and Gibson looked in at
Monica and William, he had to admit that she was a natural as a
mother, even if only a foster mother.  "All finished?" he asked,
a gentleness in his voice for the first time that day.

Monica sighed.  "He's grown so much..."  She smoothed over the
baby's hair.  "I remember the first time I gave him a bottle.
Almost a year ago!"

"You spent a lot of time with him," John said.  "I'd forgotten
how much."

"I think he remembers me," Monica said.

"He does," Gibson answered.

Monica smiled beatifically.  "I never told you how attached I was
to him," she confessed.  "You were making such a point of
avoiding him."

"I didn't think anybody noticed," John said.

"When it comes to you, I notice everything," Monica winked.

Gibson rolled his eyes.  "Here we go..."

Monica and John exchanged smiles, then Monica said, "You haven't
taken your turn holding him."

John looked from Gibson to Monica, but both stared back at him
innocently.  He took William in his arms, and for the first time,
looked into his eyes -- really looked.  They were nothing like
Luke's eyes, he realized.  They were more like Dana's, and his
nose was starting to look like Mulder's.  Yes, he realized.  This
baby is his own person.

"Cute baby," Pete said, walking back from the station with John's
change.  "What's his name?"

"Julio," Monica jumped in.  "Julio Flores."

"So *you're* the Flores family!" Pete exclaimed.  "We've been
expecting you."


CHAPTER FIVE

"We?" Monica repeated.

John's face blanched.  "Must be some other family," he snapped.
"We don't know anybody around here."  He thought about the
zippered pouch in the glove compartment.  Its three passports,
birth certificates, and visas for an extended stay in Mexico had
come from Tomas, and Tomas had brought them  William.  They had
left the monastery before finding out who the leak was, and John
had never ruled out Tomas.

"You're not the newlyweds?  Staying at the Rose Motel?"  Pete
scratched his head then ran his bandana over the same place.  "I
suppose it could be some other..."

"Rose Motel?" Monica and John said together.

Pete said, nodding to the South.  "I thought that's where you was
headed."

William squirmed in Monica's arms, and Gibson reached out for
him.  Pete watched the two "brothers," then said, "I heard there
was kids involved.  The big one's yours from your first marriage,
right?" Pete nodded toward John.  "And the little one's both
y'all's?"

"That's right," Monica said.

"Your father's a very understanding man," Pete said.  "If my
daughter had a child out of..."

"Yes, my father is a good man,"  Monica interrupted.  "He loves
me very much."

"Well, he's not the first hard-assed career military I seen go
soft when it comes to his daughter," Pete noted.

"You've talked to him?" Monica asked despite John's urgent tug on
her elbow.

"He gassed up here after driving from Santa Rosa."  Pete put his
hands on his hips and puffed out his chest.  "He asked me to make
sure you found the place alright.  Need directions?"

"Yes," Monica answered, before John could interrupt.

Once they were out of sight, John pulled to the shoulder.  He
snapped open the glove compartment and pulled out everything he
found there, setting it in Monica's lap until he found a map of
New Mexico.

"There," he pointed to a small town in Eastern New Mexico.
"There's Santa Rosa, and look what else..."  He shoved the map in
front of Monica's face.

It took her a moment to get her bearings, then she read off the
place names:  "Santa Rosa, Puerto de Luna, Arabella, Fort
Sumner..." Monica paused, then John drew his finger southward
along an intersecting highway.  "Roswell," Monica read.

"Remember that disk?  Your parents were military," John said,
unnecessarily of course.  "And look what we're coming up on..."
He pointed to a golden area on the map.

Monica gulped.  "White Sands Missile Range.  I saw that.  But I
don't care who he works for.  I want to meet him."

John suddenly couldn't bear to watch the emotions playing across
his wife's face.  He turned in his seat to check on their foster
children.  Gibson looked anxious.  William looked from John to
Gibson with uncanny understanding.

"And we need a place to stay," Monica said.  At the sound of her
voice John turned in his seat then placed a hand on her arm.  She
continued studying the map, seemingly unaware of John's caresses.
"And then tomorrow, we can angle this way," she pointed toward a
differently colored area on the map.  "Through the reservation.
And from there..." Her finger traced a small series of blue lines
on the map until coming to the border.  "We can cross the border
... here."

John had to admit, her route looked safe, and it stayed over the
magnetite-laced territory indicated on Gibson's Gameboy.  "Okay,
honey," he said softly.  "Let's meet your dad."


CHAPTER SIX

The Rose Motel was a U-Shaped, single-floor building from the
1950s, with a cemented-over pool in the center of the "U."  Its
only signs of life were a battered muscle car parked near the
managers office and a marquee sign that read "Welcome Mr and Mrs
Flores."  As John pulled to a space across from the muscle car,
the office door opened and a tall thin man came out to meet them.
He was wearing a T-shirt, blue jeans, and a leather cap, and he
had completed the look with a turquoise earring hanging from one
lobe.

"He's okay," Gibson whispered, but John and Monica kept their
guns handy just in case.  John got out and took a few steps
toward the man.

"Mr. Flores," the man said, extending his hand.

John looked over his shoulder then shook the man's hand.  "How
did you know we were coming?"

"The people of the Via agreed with me that it was time Monica met
her father and brother," he said, shaking vigorously.  "Frank
Falling Eagle."

As Frank shook his hand, John paid special attention to his
magnetite-laced wedding ring.  Feeling no vibrations, he relaxed
and studied Frank's features.  Like Monica, he had wide
cheekbones, dark hair and brown eyes.  Yes, he decided.  He
*could* be Monica's brother, but so could a lot of men.

Frank glanced toward the SUV and said, "That's her?  That's my
sister?"

"Who says she's your sister?" John demanded.

"He your boy?" Frank nodded toward Gibson.  "No, he isn't... but
he's...  He loves you like a father, but he's not yours."

"You didn't answer my question," John said, taking a protective
stance in front of the SUV.  "Who says you're related?"

"Our father," Frank said.  "You knew that.  But you don't want to
believe it.  You think the Via has a leak, and I'm..."

"Oh Jeez, not another one," John muttered.

"Ask Gibson," Frank said.  "Then come in and I'll give you the
keys to your rooms."  He turned around, revealing a long single
braid down his back, then sauntered toward the manager's office
as John looked toward Gibson.

Gibson was unstrapping William from his car seat, and Monica was
unbuckling herself.  They've already decided, John realized with
a sigh.  Why do I bother?

Gibson carried William, taking proud steps in front of Monica and
John.  Monica squeezed John's hand.  "Thank you," she whispered.
"I've wanted this for so long..."

"I know."  His hand returned the squeeze.  "But don't lose your
head," he warned.  He pulled her to a stop then took her head in
her hands.  "This could be a set-up.  Gibson's good, but..."  He
stroked her hair for a minute, as he watched her eyes watching
his.  "I just don't want to see you hurt."

"You're here," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"What could hurt me?"  She kissed him then put her head on his
shoulder.

His arms encircled her tightly.  "I hope you're right."

Gibson turned around and sneered, "Are you coming or what?"

Monica pulled away and smiled.  "Compared to what he's been
through, how bad could this be, anyway?"

Inside, the motel's tiny lobby was shabby but clean.  To the
right were a sofa, a few commercial arm chairs, a coffee table
and a TV.  On the left the manager's desk ran several feet until
coming to a door that read "MANAGER" and a tiny unfurnished space
at the rear with an emergency exit.  Frank stood behind the
counter, which held their two room keys.

Gibson set William on the sofa and sat down next to him as John
and Monica filled out their guest cards with their new names.

"Sorry to make you do this," Frank said.  "After 9/11 those new
rules about ID at motels... it's made things tougher for all of
us."

"Tougher?" Monica asked.

"We have to be ready for inspections of all our documents," Frank
answered.  "In the old days the people of the Via could use a
different name at every motel they went to.  Now we can be
tracked."

"Speaking of which," John said.  "How did we know we can trust
you."

Frank nodded toward Gibson, who was shaking a toy in front of
William.  "He trusts me.  You trust him."

"Well who made the reservations?" John demanded.  "Can you trust
them?"

"Father Tomas did, and yes, I trust him.  So do you," Frank said,
boring his eyes into John's until John blinked.  "Despite your
misgivings."

"You have all the answers, don't you?" John spat out.

Frank laughed.  "Tomas was right about you.  You do ask a lot of
questions."  He pushed the keys toward John and added, "Now... do
you want your rooms or not?"

"Just one room," John said, grabbing a key.

"John..." Monica said, but Frank interrupted.

"It's your wedding night.  You need two rooms."  He handed the
other key to Monica, who grinned mischievously.

Frank motioned for John and Monica to wait, then he went to the
front door, turned the knob to lock the deadbolt, and walked back
to the sitting area.  "Gibson?  Coming?" he asked.

Gibson's and William's heads snapped up together, and Gibson
dropped the toy.  Frank picked it up and waved it in front of
William, who reached out and grabbed it.  "Fascinating toy, eh?"
Frank said, then waited as Gibson scooped up William.

At the back of the motel there was a large lot, enclosed by walls
attached to the motel and a tall fence topped with barbed wire at
the rear.  Well-tended roses grew under a series of windows and
trailed up the burglar bars covering them.  John and Monica
sighed with relief and shared a single thought:  Magnetite.

Their rooms were typical adjoining motel rooms, with doors to the
front courtyard as well as the back entrance.  "Three modes of
egress," Frank pointed out.  "I'll show you how to work the back
gate, and then we can get your things."

Gibson, still holding William, looked up at his foster parents
with a sour face that made them laugh.  "He needs his diaper
changed," he said.

"Ya don't say?" John laughed.  "Here, let me..." He reached for
William, then sniffed.  It was indeed a pungent and distressing
odor, yet it brought back such a flood of memories, both humorous
and affectionate, that he looked forward to this parental duty.

Frank bent forward and opened the dresser drawer under the TV.
It was full of disposable diapers.  "We've been expecting you,"
he said.

"Thanks!" John said, then reached for a diaper, capably balancing
William in one arm.  He tossed the diaper on the bed then laid
William down.  "And we'll need..."

Frank opened another drawer, revealing powders, oils, and
lotions.  "At your service."

"While you're doing that, I'll get our things."  Monica walked to
the front door, but Frank rushed in front of her.

He peered through the peep hole, then opened the door slowly.
"All clear," he sighed, then pulled the door open.  "After you."

"Me too," Gibson said, but John grabbed his sleeve and pulled him
backward.

"Real men aren't afraid of a dirty diaper," John said.

***************************

Monica felt her heart racing as she and Frank walked to the SUV
but she held her body straight and took deep breaths.  Keep
control, she reminded herself.  Get your things.  Get settled in
the motel.  This is just like meeting any other relative...

Frank's silence didn't help, or maybe it did.  She wanted to hear
all about her parents, but she wasn't sure she could handle the
truth.  She picked up her overnight bag, John's slightly larger
bag, and was reaching for Gibson's when she felt Frank's hand on
her shoulder.  "Allow me," he said, then picked it up.  "And the
baby's bag?"  Monica pointed out William's diaper bag, which held
a few changes of clothes and some toys.

"Will this be safe out here?" she asked, looking around the dark
lot.

"No worries, sister," Frank said.  "This thing's loaded with
magnetite.  And then there's Gray Wolf."

"Who's that?" Monica asked.

For an answer, Frank whistled through his teeth, and a large gray
wolf came running from the side opposite the fenced-in wing.
"Stop!" Frank ordered, and the wolf came to a stop in front of
them.  Frank scratched behind the wolf's ear and cooed, "Good
boy."

It took a moment for Monica to catch her breath.  "His name is
Gray Wolf?"

Frank shrugged.  "He guards the motel, the parking lot, and the
guests."

"Hi Gray Wolf," Monica said, nervously reaching out to pat its
head.  The wolf moved its head under her hand to accept her
petting.  His fur was unexpectedly cottony, and Monica felt
instantly calmed.  "He's beautiful."

"Yes," Frank said affectionately, still stroking the wolf's ear.

Suddenly they heard William's high-pitched scream coming from the
room, then Gibson's voice shouting "STOP IT! YOU'RE HURTING HIM!"


CHAPTER SEVEN

"Stay here," Frank commanded Grey Wolf, then he and Monica rushed
to the room.

They found John, sitting in the motel's arm chair, holding
William by the hands, lowering him until his feet touched the
floor then lifting him up again.  Gibson stood to one side,
shaking in sympathy for his foster brother.  "Tell him to stop!"
his tearful eyes pleaded with Monica.

Like an eagle snatching its prey, Monica swooped down on William,
grabbing him and then flying to the other side of the room.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Monica," John shouted, though not angry at her.  "That shouldn't
hurt!  He should be getting ready to walk now, and he can't even
do that!"

"It's true," Frank said, standing behind Monica and placing a
protective hand on William's head.  "A child his age should be
able to stand up."

"And do you want to know why he can't?" John said, his voice
still raised.  He grabbed William from Monica, pulling him into
his strong arms, then with one hand pulled down William's diaper.
"Here's why!"

Monica gasped.  A very long, very red surgical scar ran up
William's spine.  She touched it, and when William didn't wince,
she ran a finger up and down its length.

"You didn't notice this?" John said accusingly.

"No... the table I changed him on was small...,"  she said, still
focused on the scar.  She spread her palm and rubbed the baby's
shoulders affectionately.  "Who did this to you, William?" she
whispered.

"And Dana never mentioned him having a back problem?" John
demanded.

"No," Monica said, still stroking William.  She turned to Frank
and said, "Did you know about this?"

"No.  I only knew you were coming here," he answered.  "Only what
Tomas e-mailed me."

"But have you seen anything like this before?" John asked, his
investigative curiosity beginning to take over from his parental
ire.

"No, but I think I know what this is," Frank said, putting a hand
on William's back.  He caressed the baby then said, "And why you
were sent to me."

"And why would that be?" John asked, pulling William away from
Frank.

"The Via, it keeps track of the little ones," Frank said.  He
seemed not at all offended that John had pulled William away from
him.  "I'll explain once you've settled in."

"You'll explain NOW, Dammit!" John shouted.  His booming voice
set William crying.

Gibson reached for William, who reached for him, and John handed
the baby over as if the transfer were a well-worn routine.
William stopped crying almost immediately.  Gibson laid him on
the bed, then laid down next to him and dangled a toy just out of
William's reach.  Monica watched the two boys then looked up to
see John's eyes seeking out hers.  Wordlessly, she followed Frank
back to the SUV, where Grey Wolf was still standing guard.

"He's a good man," Monica said when they were out of earshot.
"But he doesn't like being kept in the dark."

"You don't either," Frank surmised.  "But you know the light will
come if you wait for it."

Indian wisdom?  Monica wondered.  She had always sought out
ancient ideas, spirituality and serenity, but never thought she'd
find those qualities in her birth family.  Were they the reason
for her interests?  Did she *know* at some level?  Even if he
isn't her brother, she decided, she felt an affinity for him that
would count just as much.  "Yes," she said softly.  "And it
always does.

They found John sitting in the motel's armless dining chair,
scowling as he watched Gibson play with William.  Monica knew
that scowl.  It was the look of a man whose moral outrage would
soon spur him to action.  In an FBI agent it was a good look.  In
a foster parent on the run from an omniscient shadow government
it could mean trouble.

Monica and Frank exchanged glances as she set their bags on the
floor near the bathroom.   Frank opened the door to the adjoining
room and motioned her to follow him.

The first thing that hit Monica's senses was the overwhelming
aroma of dozens of roses, and when Frank turned on the light she
couldn't help smiling.  There were vases of roses on every flat
surface, and a garland of roses over the headboard.  On the tiny
dining table sat a standard motel ice bucket, a pair of plastic
stem glasses, and a bottle of champagne.  "Frank..." Monica
whispered.  "I don't know what to say..."

"Congratulations, sister," Frank said.  "Our father will be here
any minute, but I wanted you to see this."

"Thank you," Monica said.  "Even if you're not my brother, I
appreciate what you're doing for us."

"You know I am," he said.  He put his hands on her shoulders and
looked into her eyes until she looked away.  "I want you to hear
the whole from our father.  You may not like some of what you
hear..."

"I don't care," she said in spite of herself.  "I want to
know..."

Frank impulsively drew her to him and hugged her tightly.  "I've
waited so long for this day..."  When his voice cracked he pulled
away.

Monica's eyes were on the doorway.  "John..." she said breathily.
"Look at our room!"

Even though he knew Monica believed Frank to be her brother, John
couldn't help feeling jealous, and he could see instantly that
Frank knew.  "Mon..." he said, holding his arm out for her.  She
obeyed his magnetic reach, nestling herself against his shoulder.

"Thank you for the honeymoon suite, Frank," Monica said.  She
pulled an arm around John's waist then leaned her head on his
shoulder.  "This hasn't exactly been the wedding day I'd dreamed
of, but this..." She paused to wave around the room with her free
hand.  "This makes up for a lot."

John buried his lips in Monica's hair, but kept his eye on Frank,
who smiled knowingly.

"I'll be in the office if you need me.  Father should be here
soon..." Frank said as he left through their unit's rear door.
"If the phone rings with two rings, it's me.  If it rings with
one ring, don't answer it."

*******************

"Well?" Monica asked, turning John to face her.  "Think we can
have a real wedding night here?"

John smirked then kissed her lightly on the lips.  "We can try,"
he said, then looked around the room.  "But I gotta tellya, this
whole set-up makes me nervous."

"Then it's a good thing I packed some of Sister Martha's
medicinal oils," she grinned.  "You found them very relaxing the
last time I used them."

He smiled at the memory.  They'd had incredible sex the night
she'd worked the pungent oils into his tired muscles and put
Sister Martha's salve on  his cactus wounds.  "I could go for
that," he said.

He kissed her, and just as her mouth melted into his they heard
an "ahem" from the doorway.

"Yes, Gibson?"  Monica asked.

"Are we gonna eat dinner?" Gibson asked plaintively.  "I'm
starving!"

John and Monica exchanged glances.  They hadn't given dinner a
thought, but now that Gibson brought it up...  Monica went to the
phone and dialed the front desk.  "There's no answer," she
announced.

"That's just great," John said.  "We're willing prisoners waiting
for ..."

"Frank's okay," Gibson said defensively.  "He wouldn't do that."

"Not knowingly," Monica pointed out.  "We still don't know who
tipped off your parents or A.D. Skinner."

"I don't think it was the same person," John said.  "I think the
leak is bigger than that.  Otherwise, why did it take Skinner so
long to find us, but Gibson's parents..."

"You contacted them," Gibson pointed out.  "You wanted them to
know that I was okay.  Remember?"  Gibson snarled then went back
to his room, where William was sleeping contentedly in the middle
of one of the beds.

John followed Gibson and sat on the other bed, looking up at
Gibson, who was looking out the window through the gap in the
drapes.  "Gibson," John said gently.  "It was the right thing to
do. I still believe that.  And now, with your parents gone and
your foster parents in trouble, you're a free man, so to speak."

"I'm not a man," Gibson whined.  "I'm only sixteen."

Monica leaned against the doorjamb, listening in.  The bond
between Gibson and John had grown so strong over the past few
weeks that sometimes she felt left out.  But she wouldn't change
a thing.  They were good for each other.  John had treated Gibson
as the normal teenager he'd always wanted to be.  He taught him
to drive, to do push-ups and sit-ups, and most importantly, to
trust that there could be goodness in the world.  And Gibson had
been good for John.  Although John had put Luke's death behind
him as best he could, there would always be a void in John's
heart where Luke should have been. Gibson filled that void, just
a little, and reawakened John's parental instincts and gave him a
chance love again.  She glanced at William and sighed.  And if it
hadn't been for Gibson, John would never have accepted William,
the baby he'd taken such pains to avoid in the past.

"I'm going to unpack, John," Monica said.

He looked over his shoulder, surprised that she had been there in
the first place.  "Okay, honey," he said.  She smiled giddily at
the word "honey," and John smiled back.

"She knows what you're thinking," Gibson said.  "And so do I."

"Oh, and what's that?" John asked.  His mind had been such a
swirl of emotions and conflicting thoughts the past hour that he
doubted even Tomas could have unraveled them.

"You want to adopt me, officially," Gibson said.  "And so does
Monica."


CHAPTER EIGHT

Before John could answer, Frank came through the rear door with
two pizzas in cardboard boxes.  "I heard you were hungry," he
said.  "Father will be here any minute.  He said to go ahead and
start without him."

They set the pizza on the small dining table, then Frank excused
himself to get their sodas.

"See?" Monica said.  "Everything's going to be all right."  She
and Gibson each took a slice then sat on the edge of the bed
nearer to the little dining table ans John sat in the chair next
to it.

John glanced at William.  "I hope so...." he said.  He took a
slice then stuffed most of it into his mouth, so much that he
could barely work the huge mass around to chew it.

Monica started to giggle, then Gibson joined in.

"What?" John asked, letting a piece of pizza fall out as he
spoke.  This caused the giggling pair to double over in
hysterical laughter.  He started to laugh, then realized he
couldn't with so much food in his mouth.  He spit it out into a
napkin, then said, "I can't go anywhere with you two!"

"You can't go anywhere with US?!?!" Monica squealed.

Gibson fell backwards onto the bed, laughing hysterically, then
started coughing desperately.  John leapt into action, pulling
the boy to his feet and doing the Heimlich maneuver until Gibson
spat out a small morsel of pizza.

As Gibson recovered his breath, John said, "When you get to be a
man, son, you'll be able to handle a manly portion."  Monica
placed her hand solicitously on Gibson's arm.  "But until then,
maybe your mom should cut up your food for you."  He took the
rest of his slice into his mouth then started working it around.
"See?" he said.

"Point taken," Gibson said.  "We won't laugh at you again."

"Better not," John mumbled through the dough.

Just then Frank came through the rear door, a cooler in one hand
and a folding crib under his armpit on the other side.  "I almost
forgot this!" he said, setting up the crib as his guests began
gulping their sodas.  He took a slice of pizza then sat down next
to Monica.  As he ate he watched her face, his eyes smiling the
whole time.  When she started squirming under his gaze he said,
"I've waited a long time for this day."

Just then Frank's pager beeped.  He checked the number, then
turned it off and said, "Someone else has waited a long time for
this day."  He excused himself and left through the back door.

While they waited for Frank to return, Monica paced.  "I've never
seen here like this," John thought at Gibson.  He was surprised
to hear Gibson's voice in his mind saying, "She hasn't either."

Monica stopped in front of the dresser mirror and began fluffing
her hair.  "I should have taken a shower," she said.  "Washed my
hair..."

John walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.  He
looked at their reflection together and said, "You look
beautiful."  When she blushed he kissed her cheek and added, "How
could anyone not love you?"

She gasped.  How did he know?  She rarely even admitted it to
herself, usually with the aid of tequila or an all-night
stake-out at a vacant crack house.  But it was always there, just
under the surface, niggling at her mind.  Why had her birth
parents given her up?  Why didn't they love her enough to keep
her?  She put her right hand over his left, taking comfort from
his wedding ring.  "Thank you," she whispered.

He put his mouth to her ear but before he could speak, the rear
door opened.  Frank stepped through, followed by a slightly
taller, older man dressed casually but with a bearing that
screamed out career military.  John watched cautiously as the man
approached.  He had broad shoulders, a full head of stark white
hair, and smooth but tanned skin that gave him an eerie, ageless
quality.  John stepped in front of Monica and stuck out his hand.

"John Doggett," he said.  After the man took his right hand John
put his left over their clasped hands and shook vigorously,
paying special attention to his wedding ring.  No tell-tale
vibration to indicate the man was a super soldier, but John
remained cautious.  "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"Vince Castleman," the man said, then he turned toward Monica and
said, "And you must be Angela..."  He crossed the distance
between them in a few strides then grabbed her in a suffocating
bear hug.

Monica didn't make any effort to escape, but she didn't return
the hug, either.  He was a stranger to her, she realized.  Her
real father was in Monterrey, running his factory and keeping her
real mother awake with his snoring.  This man was just a man, she
thought.  Someone I could pass on the street and never notice.

He pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders, examining her
as if appraising a fine painting.  "You have your mother's eyes,"
he said.

She blushed then began studying his face.  She had stopped
looking for herself in the faces of strangers years ago, but the
well-honed habit came back.  Yes, she thought, his ears look like
mine, and his jaw line has the same curve...

He cupped her chin, and she could feel his fingers trembling
slightly.  Any other time she would have felt sympathy for this
man, but as he held her a long-suppressed rage simmered in some
forgotten recess of her soul until it erupted in an
uncontrollable outburst.  She threw up her hands, knocking his
arms away from her face.  "How dare you!"  she shouted.  "How
dare you just leave me then expect me to be happy to see you!
How long did you know where I was?  A year?  Five years?  Why
didn't you look for me?  Why didn't you..." Her voice broke, and
she fell back into her chair.  "Why didn't...."  But she still
couldn't say it.  She still couldn't ask him why he didn't love
her.

Vince's moist eyes met Frank's stare.  "You didn't tell her?" he
asked.

"I wanted her to hear it from you," Frank said.  He went around
behind John and Gibson then put his hand on Monica's shoulder.
"I want her to hear it the way I heard it," he said.

Monica put her hand on Frank's then glanced up to see him looking
down on her with a depth of empathy she had never seen in
another's face.  Yes, he understood her, she realized, like
nobody had ever understood her before.  "I want to hear it," she
said, still looking into Frank's face.  "I want to know what
happened to our mother, and why I was put up for adoption."

*******************************

Gibson grabbed a pizza and said, "Maybe we should eat first."
When the others burst out laughing he asked, "What?  What did I
say?"  He gnawed off a huge bite and ate it so lustily the others
decided to grab some before Gibson polished it off.

As they ate they caught up on pleasantries, exchanging the easy
cut-and-dried questions and answers of strangers getting
acquainted, but Monica ate very little, and said even less.  She
hung on her father's every word, trying to form a picture of him
and fit it into her family album.  He was from Chicago, but
hadn't lived there since joining the air force after college.  He
knew their real names and where they'd been staying, but he
avoided any mention of how he came to know it, or how much of the
truth he knew.  Monica guessed that he knew much more than he let
on, but as a career officer, he lived by the need-to-know rule.
Lately she and John had been living by that rule too.

When they had finished the pizza, Vince wiped his hands on his
slacks, glanced at William, then asked, "Mind if I hold him?"
After Monica nodded, he picked the baby up then walked around the
room cooing and patting his behind.  "God, how I missed holding
you when you were a baby," he said to Monica.  "I knew about you,
you know.  Well, I knew when you were due.  I used to walk around
my cell, holding my rolled up shirt in my arms, pretending it was
you."  He looked at Monica affectionately, and as he patted
William's behind she imagined him patting a rolled-up shirt.
"It's what kept me alive," he said.  "Knowing there was a
brand-new life waiting for me stateside."

Monica grabbed a kleenex, wiped a tear from the corner of her
eye, then sat as far back in her chair as she could.  "Go on,"
she said.  John reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.  "I
want to hear everything," she said more bravely than she felt.

Vince sat down on the edge of the bed, facing Monica, then laid
William on the bed behind him.  "You look like her.  Did Frank
tell you that?"  She shook her head. "You have her nose, her
mouth..." He reached out and this time she let him touch her.  He
rubbed his thumb in the dimple under her lower lip, then said,
"So unique... so beautiful..."

"I wish I could have seen her," Monica said.

Vince withdrew, leaning back against the bed for strength.  "I do
too," he croaked.

Suddenly Monica felt Gibson's presence in her mind, joined by
Frank's.  Vince closed his eyes and Monica's mind's eye started
seeing an unfocused image.  She closed her eyes and took a deep
breath, following Tomas' instructions for receiving images
telepathically.  As she relaxed her mind the images cleared,
until she saw what Gibson and Frank were sending.

She looked directly at her, her unblinking eyes seeming to
penetrate her soul, and all the souls she met.  Her features were
exotically Native, and Monica had to agree that she could see the
resemblance.  Epaulets on her shoulder indicated a high rank in
the air force, but her hat tilted rakishly to one side.  The
image didn't move, and Monica realized it was a photograph, or a
memory of a photograph.  When she tried to fix it in her mind it
started to pull away from her, and when she reached out she saw
another hand holding it.  A masculine hand.  She could see his
thumb, rubbing over the bottom of the picture, a quarter-moon of
dried mud smiling ironically from the bottom of the nail.  As it
continued pulling away she could see brilliant dark green foliage
behind the photo, and she heard the sounds of jungle animals from
every direction, until suddenly all went quiet save for the click
of a gun behind her.

"Hands in the air," an Asian voice shouted.  "Hands in the air or
I shoot."

The hand holding the picture shot upward, and then she heard a
single shot and the cackle of laughter behind her.  The last
thing she saw at first seemed to be snow, but then she realized
it was the confetti remains of the photo as they fluttered to the
ground.

Monica opened her eyes when the group broke contact.  "I'm so
sorry," she said.

"Are you okay?" John asked.

His voice startled her.  "Yeah, yeah..." she muttered.  "I'm
okay."  Then she turned to Vince and said, "Was that in Vietnam?"

"And tell it to her regular style," John demanded.

"After that I went to the Hanoi Hilton," Vince said.


CHAPTER NINE

John gasped.  The Hoa Lo Prison was one of the most infamous
P.O.W. camps in military history.  Its ironic nickname, the Hanoi
Hilton never failed to bring a shiver to every post-Nam soldier,
even marines.  "How long?"

"I'm not sure.  I must have gotten knocked out after I ejected.
When I came to I was in the middle of the jungle with no idea
where I was.  I tried to find friendlies but I must have been
deep inside VC territory," he said.

John shook his head in sympathy.  His own military experiences
included a few horrors but nothing compared to this.

"Thinking about my family kept me going," he said.  "I knew I
just had to get back to her... to you," he added, looking at
Frank and Monica in turn.

"And when you got back to the states," Frank prodded from his
position at the head of the bed.  He sat cross-legged on the bed
pillows as if awaiting a bedtime story, but his face was grim.

Monica drew her lips together into a tight, brave line and met
Vince's eyes with as much courage as she could muster.

"When I got back to the states," Vince said slowly.  "Your mother
was in prison."  He kept his eyes on Monica, and she kept her
eyes on him, signaling her willingness to hear the rest, then he
added, "On death row."

"Death row?" Monica repeated.  "She murdered someone?"

Vince shook his head.  "Treason.  She was tried in a military
court..."

"Kangaroo court," Frank snorted.

"Yes, it was a sham," Vince agreed.  "But she didn't put up any
defense.  She never said a word..."

"She wasn't even on duty!" Frank said, slamming his fist into a
pillow.

"She was on maternity leave," Vince explained.  "She was pregnant
with you..."

"And they couldn't wait!  The bastards couldn't wait!" Frank
hissed.

Vince shot Frank a warning glance then turned his attention to
Monica.  In a very soft, compassionate voice, he said, "You were
born in the federal women's prison in Gatesville, Texas, Angela,"
he said.  "I was M.I.A. in Nam, and your grandparents didn't know
what was happening."

"So *they* put me up for adoption?" Monica asked.  "She didn't do
it?"

"Sold you to the highest bidder, is more like it!" Frank said.

"Frank!" Vince scolded.  He studied Monica's expressionless face
then asked, "Are you okay?"

When she didn't answer, John said, "Honey?" and squeezed her hand
gently.

She shook her head as if dislodging a bad nightmare, then said,
"Go on.  I need to know the truth, no matter what it is."

"They took you to a private adoption agency and listed phony
names on your birth certificate," Vince explained.  "I didn't
find out until just a few months ago."

"Lizzie Borden," Monica said, remembering the fake birth
certificates John and Gibson had found at the orphanage.  "A
murderer's name.  And they called you Tom Dooley."

"Another murderer," John explained, as if he'd known the meaning
of the name without having Monica sing him the folk song the name
came from.

Vince shook his head.  "They sent Frank to an Indian school,
where he got a new name."

"But I remembered my name," Frank said.  "I hung onto it because
it was all I had."

"I hope you had good parents, Angela," Vince said.  "My only
consolation all these years was the hope that you were growing up
happy and healthy."

"They were wonderful parents," Monica said.  "I never wanted for
anything."

"Except to see a face that looked like your own," Frank
suggested.  "It's all I ever wanted."

The two siblings looked into each others' faces as if studying
their own reflections in a mirror, until Vince cleared his throat
and asked, "Do you want to know why she was there?"

Monica nodded, and John squeezed her hand.

"She was in the military too.  A code-talker," Vince said.

"Navajo?" Monica asked.  "They only encrypted messages during
World War Two."

"That's the official story," Vince said.  "But they're still
doing it today.  Inside the military, for the government, and
outside the military..."  Vince paused to give Monica a
significant look.

"For the Via," Monica whispered.  She wondered if the code she'd
learned was Navajo but didn't dare ask.  She too understood "need
to know."

"I didn't know about that until a few months ago," Vince
explained.  "After I retired.  But she was part of the Via, and
she used her position to help people.  Nobody knew, but when I
went missing..."  His voice cracked and Vince grabbed a soda
while the others looked away, waiting for him to regain his
composure.

"They found out she'd been sending messages to Buddhist
monasteries in V.C. territory.  She was looking for me," he
sniffled.  "When they questioned her she clammed up.  Wouldn't
say a thing."

"She didn't want to tip them off about the Via," Gibson
suggested.

Vince nodded.  "She's considered a martyr today.  She was on
death row for two years, and she never said a word, even under
sodium pentothal."

"They tortured her!" Frank broke in.  "They tortured her, and
still she never gave us away!"

"When I came back from Nam the first thing I did was look for
her, but I had to be careful.  Nobody knew about us.
Fraternizing was against regs," he explained.

"They know about that," Gibson snickered.

John and Monica shot him a glance, but Gibson shrugged and said,
"What'd I do?  He already knows who you work for."

"I do, and I was so proud when I found out," Vince said, smiling
at Monica.  "You're so much like her."

"I hope I can live up to her standards," Monica said.

"You've set your own standard," John said.  "And it's just as
high."

Vince looked at John approvingly then said, "Your mother would be
proud of you.  And now that you know the truth, you can be proud
of her too."

"And you," she said.  "I'm sorry about before..."

"No apology needed," Vince said.  "For years, I used to see
little girls in stores or on airplanes, and wonder what I was
missing out on.  Even when they were yelling at their parents and
telling them that they hated them, I wished it could have been
you yelling at me for not letting you wear a low-cut prom dress
or stay out past ten."

"You have that in common with my real father, then," Monica
laughed, but immediately regretted the word "real."  "I love him,
you know.  He'll always be 'papa' to me."

"I know," Vince said.  "But thank you for listening."

He got up to leave, but Frank said, "Wait!  You haven't told her
about mama's death."

"Do you want to know?" Vince asked.

"Yes," Monica said.

"I was there when they gave her the lethal injection.  Right up
to the end they were interrogating her.  I told the C.O. that I
thought I might recognize some V.C. names if she decided to
confess, so he let me go."  He nodded proudly, saying, "Right up
until the end she never cracked.  She never told them a thing.
Her last words were: tell my children that I love them."

"I wish I could have met her," Monica said, then burst into
tears.  Vince enfolded her in his long arms, letting her sob on
his shoulder as if his little girl had always done that.

"Shhh, shhhh, Angela," he whispered.  "We found each other at
last.  It's what she wanted most.

John watched for a moment then looked at Gibson, thought-casting
the question, "Is this guy for real?"  Gibson nodded, and Frank
glanced at the pair disapprovingly.

Gradually, Monica's tears subsided, and she pulled away from
Vince's embrace.  "Thank you for telling me."

Vince grinned his encouragement, but said nothing.

"I have a few questions now," John said.

"Shoot," Vince said.  He reached for William, who allowed Vince
to pick him up, and then began walking around the room, cooing to
the child.

"First off, do you realize that if you take that child anywhere
near a door it'll be the last step you take?" John said, his hand
on his gun.

Vince turned back toward the bed nearer the bathroom, laid
William down, then lay next to him.  "Better?" he asked.  "I'm
not going anywhere, okay?   I've lost two kids of my own,
remember.  I wouldn't take yours."

"Just so we have that straight," John said.  "Now... Where were
you stationed when you came back from Nam?"

"Texas, San Diego, the Pentagon..." Vince said, his voice
trailing off.  "Does this really matter?"

"Area 51?" Gibson asked.  "White Sands?"

"Some of my assignments were classified," Vince said flatly.
"Got any questions I can answer?"

"Yeah," John said sternly.  He walked over to the bed, turned
William over, and pulled down his diaper to expose the scar over
his spine.  "What the hell is this?"

CHAPTER TEN

Vince gasped, then ran his fingers along William's spine, just as
Monica had done a few hours earlier.  "Why would I know?" he
asked.

"Because someone in the government did this," John said.  "Or
someone connected to the government.  They've been abducting
people, turning them into super soldiers..." John paused, trying
to keep his rage in check.  "And if that's not bad enough,
they're experimenting on children too!"

Vince said, "Children?  That's unethical.  The government would
never--"

"Gibson," John ordered.  "Show him what they did to you."

Gibson obediently went to the side of the bed, then leaned over,
parting his short-cropped hair to show Vince the scars from his
brain surgery.

"What?" Vince asked helplessly as he examined Gibson's scars.
"Why?"

"They wanted to make more like me," Gibson said.  "All my life
I've been a lab rat."

Vince looked down at William.  "You think the government
experimented on him?"

"I think he *is* an experiment," John said.  "His mother wasn't
supposed to be able to have children, and his father was the
subject of experiments.  He's the result of genetic engineering,
supposedly to remove any weaknesses."

As John talked Vince trailed his hand upward over William's
spine, coming to rest at the vertebrae on the back of the child's
neck, where his fingers examined every bump carefully.

"I think you know exactly what we're talking about," Monica
accused.

Vince's hand jumped off William's back.  "I've heard of certain
experiments, and children conceived with advanced
intervention..."

"Super soldiers?" John said, eyeing Vince carefully.

"Yes," he said reluctantly.  "But nothing like this..."  He eased
William's shirt up and examined the rest of his spine.  "This is
so wrong... So backward..."

"Backward?" Monica asked.  She went to William's other side and
watched Vince's examination.  "How?"

Vince ignored her question.  "Can he walk yet?"

"No," Gibson said.  "It hurts when he stands."

Vince picked William up then tried to set him on his feet.
William let out an ear-piercing scream, looking pleadingly into
Monica's face.  Vince raised him up again, taking the pressure
off the baby's legs.  "Sorry, little guy," he said, hugging
William to him briefly before holding him above the bed.  "Can
you crawl, little man?" he said gently, letting William down
slowly until William put out his arms in front of him.  William
held himself up on his arms, but his legs wouldn't accept his
weight, and he collapsed onto his stomach with a whimper.

"I have no idea," Vince said.  "Why would anyone--"

"You didn't answer my question," Monica demanded.  "Why is this
backward."

Vince looked to Frank, whose stern face mimicked Monica's with
spooky perfection.  "I think you already know," he conceded.
"But if you want me to spell it out..."  He pulled down the
collar of William's shirt.  "These vertebrae here..." He pointed
to the vertebrae that John and Monica well knew would be
super-sized in a super soldier.  "If there had been any
experiments on him, any tampering..."  He drew his finger over
William's very normal-sized bumps.  "It would be here, not the
other end of the spine."

"So you don't know what this is?" Monica asked, disappointment in
her voice.

"No.  What can you tell me about this baby?" Vince asked.

Monica filled him in on the circumstances of his birth, his
unusual ability to control objects, his kidnaping by a UFO cult
and his subsequent survival after a spacecraft left him behind,
and the injection given him by "the breather," who turned out to
be Agent Spender.  She spared no details, hoping Vince would
recognize something in the story and come up with an answer.

"This is *that* baby?" Vince said after Monica finished.  "How do
you know?"

"I was there when he was born, and I was there when he went to
the adoption agency.  Only his mother knows him better than I
do," Monica said.

Vince seemed satisfied with her answer, then he asked, "That
shot, it was supposed to make him normal?  Can he still control
objects?"

Monica shook her head.  "I don't think so.  We've only been with
him a few hours."

Vince rolled William onto his back, took his keys out of his
pocket, then dangled them in front of William's face.  William
giggled and reached for the keys, but there was nothing unusual
about the game.  Vince sighed.  "I think I have an idea about
what happened, and who did it."

"Who?" John jumped in.  "Someone in the air force?"

Vince sneered at him.  "No, not the air force.  But you were
right, it was the government."

"Can it be fixed?" Monica asked.  "Can he walk again?"

Vince let William have his keys then turned his attention to John
and Monica.  "This child, and the others like him, a lot of money
and time was invested in them.  The people who created him, they
don't give up easy."

"And the People of the Via," Frank interjected.  "They don't give
up easy, either."

Vince nodded his agreement.  "All these babies, they've been
disappearing.  They're being abducted and all the senior
intelligence is scratching their heads over this.  This one," he
grabbed William's foot affectionately.  "They were able to find
him because he disappeared through normal channels adoption.  She
wanted to protect him?"  Vince laughed.  "Who would be better
protection than an FBI agent?"  He shook his head in disbelief.
"What a stupid, stupid idea..."

"She thought she was doing what was best for him," Monica said,
defending her friend.  Although she had disagreed at the time,
she had quickly come around to Scully's point of view, if only to
keep her own spirits up.

"I'm sure she did," Vince said patronizingly.  "But under the
circumstances..."

"So you're telling me they tracked him down and did this to him?"
John spat out, his hands starting to shake.  He had disagreed
with Scully's decision as well, but had never admitted it to
anyone other than Monica.  Having lost a child himself, he could
never feel anything but anger and disgust for Scully after she
gave William up, and now his anger was turning into a blind rage
that could be dangerous.  Monica looked at him with a worried
expression he knew too well, but he couldn't stop himself.  "They
tracked him down, then what?  Tried to turn him back into a super
soldier?  Is that what you're telling us?"  By now he was
shouting, and he finished his tirade saying, "He's just a baby!"

Monica said, "John..." as gently as she could, then placed a hand
on his arm.  "Just listen."

"It's okay," Vince said.  "I felt the same way when I found out
about this program.  It's why I retired.  I wanted to join the
Via, to help put a stop to all this."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" John demanded.

"One baby at a time," Vince said calmly.  "And here's the next
one."

"Next one?" Monica repeated.  "How many have you helped?"

Vince smiled enigmatically.  "John and Gibson know.  They've seen
them," he said.

John and Gibson thought back to the orphanage where they'd seen
several children, most of them babies, and where Gibson had shot
his first super soldier using a magnetite-laced bullet.

"Okay," John said carefully.  "So you're helping babies.  Exactly
how do you plan to do that?"

"I have a contact," Vince said, just as carefully.  "A doctor.
He doesn't tell me much.  I don't tell him much.  Just what he
needs to know.  He might have seen this before."

"And where is this mysterious doctor?" John asked.

"You'll have to trust me on this," Vince said.

"No dice!" John shouted.  "This baby is *our* responsibility and
we're not letting him out of our sight!"

Monica nodded, and this time she didn't make any attempt to quell
John's anger.  "Tell us where to go, and we'll take him there,"
she said.

"You won't get anywhere without me," Vince said.  He thought for
a moment then said, "I usually go alone, with just the kid... but
I suppose they'd buy a visit from a family."

"They?" John asked.

"The Children's Hospital of New Mexico," Vince said.

****The Children's Hospital of New Mexico is Annabeth Gish's pet
charity.  Go to http://www.thankyouannabeth.com/index2.html for
information on how to donate********




CHAPTER ELEVEN

Monica fought off the urge to grab William, and glanced at John.
It looked like he was thinking the same thing.  During their
silence, Gibson moved to the bed and laid down next to Gibson.
"So when do we go?" he asked.

"Gibson!" John scolded.

"They're family-oriented there, and they have a research program
on spinal problems," Vince explained.  "My contact knows how to
work the system and keep the questions to a minimum."

"How can he do that?" John challenged.

Vince shrugged.  "You have your documents?" he asked.  Monica and
John nodded.  "So even if they ask questions you have answers."

"We don't have questions for that," John said, nodding to
William.  "How can we explain that?"

"Leave that to me and my contact," Vince said with confidence.
"Once we get our foot in the door, it should be smooth sailing."

"He's done this before, remember," Frank said with affection.
"And you can stay here as long as you need to.  All of you."

John couldn't help thinking, 'At least we're not surrounded by
nuns,' and he heard a giggle coming from the minds of Gibson and
Frank.

With her worries about William partially relieved, Monica
suddenly felt the full weight of her exhaustion and yawned
loudly.  "Oops, sorry," she apologized.  "It's been a long day."

"So it's settled?" Frank asked.  "You'll stay here and Pop will
take you to the hospital together?"

Monica looked to John for confirmation, then said, "We want
what's best for him."

After Frank and Vince left, John turned to Monica and said, "Well
this was a surprise.  Are you okay with all of this?"

Monica nodded.  "It's all I wanted.  Just to know," she said.
She glanced at Gibson, who was trying to suppress a yawn.  "And
it's been a long day.  We should get to bed."

Monica changed William and put on his pajamas while Gibson got
changed in the bathroom.  "I hope all this good luck is for
real," John said.

"Who says it's luck?" Monica grinned.  "It's fate.  All of it."
She laid William down in his crib, then went to John and put her
arms around his waist.  "You and me together, us taking care of
Gibson, and now William, my father and brother helping us...
It's the way things should be.  Even if everything else is all
wrong, being part of a family, how could that be wrong?"

John was about to object then realized how lonely Monica must
have felt all her years working in the FBI, and before that in
college, away from her parents.  And before that she was in
boarding school.  He stroked her hair, and said, "And a wonderful
family it is."

Gibson came out of the bathroom and snarled, "You've got a room."
He flopped into his bed, rearranged the pillows, then said,
"Well? What are you waiting for?"

"Just knock if William needs anything," Monica said.  "Like
diapering."

"Pffft," Gibson sneered.  "A real man isn't afraid of a dirty
diaper."

"Then let us know if *you* need anything," Monica said.

Gibson took his gun and set it on the night stand beside him.
"I'll be fine."  He settled into his pillows, then closed his
eyes and started doing the hum that helped him get into a deep
meditation, one that would be deep enough not to overhear a
passionate wedding night.

John pulled Monica toward the door then turned off the light,
saying  "Goodnight Gibson."  Monica started for William's crib,
but John tugged on her sleeve.  "He's fine," he said as he pulled
the door closed.

The aroma of roses was even more powerful than earlier, reminding
her what night this was.  "You're not too tired, are you?"

"You were the one yawning earlier," John pointed out.

"Hmmm, I was?" she murmured as she nuzzled the side of his neck.
"I don't remember that."

"I remember it," he chuckled as she found a ticklish spot.  "You
yawned rather loudly, in fact."

"I did?" she asked, now nuzzling the other side of his neck.

"And I thought, there goes our wedding night."  He brought his
hands to her face then guided her lips to his.  After a tender
but brief kiss, he said, "But then I thought, I'm going to be
with this woman the rest of my life.  We'll have thousands of
nights together."

"I hope so," Monica said, losing her flirtatious tone.  "I hope
we grow old together."

"I have a head start on that," he laughed.  "But yes, we'll grow
old together.  Very old.  I plan to live to be one hundred," he
added.

"I'll be ninety-two then.  You don't want to see that!" she said.

"Yes, I do," he said.  "I want to see all your ages.  And all
your sides.  Every part of Monica Reyes fascinates me.  Past,
present, and future."  He pulled her close to his body so she
could feel his fascination, then said, "But especially the
present..."

"hmmmmm I *am* a little tired, now that you mention it," she
said, grinding into him.

"Then it's definitely bed-time, Mrs. Doggett," John said.  He
reached down with one arm and knocked her off balance at the
knees, then picked her up and carried her to the bed.  "It's not
a threshold, but it's the best I could do."

Monica giggled.  "Gibson would thank you for sparing him this
sight."

"You're welcome, Gibson!" John shouted over his shoulder.
"Now..."

He walked Monica over to the bed and was about to toss her onto
it, when she said, "Wait!  What about the champagne?"

John sighed and set her on her feet.  "You promise it won't knock
you out?" he winked.

"I promise," she said with mock seriousness, putting her hand
over her heart.  "As long as you promise to help me stay awake."

"I think I can do that," he said, leading her to the champagne.

He popped the cork then pulled her into his lap, where they drank
to their new life together, to her brother's generosity, to
Gibson, and to William.    Monica sighed at the mention of
William.  "I hope he'll be okay," she said.

"He has us, doesn't he?" John soothed.

"You're okay with keeping him?" Monica asked.

"He's been entrusted to us," John said.  "It doesn't matter how
it happened.  He's ours to care for until we find out otherwise."

Monica smiled.  "I'm glad to hear you say that."

"But that could be tomorrow, you know," John said.  "He's not
ours forever."

"I know," she answered, bowing her head to hide her
disappointment.

"But Gibson..." John said.  "We can adopt him."

"Think he wants it?" Monica asked, suddenly perky again.  "I
mean...  he's almost grown..."

"I know he wants it," John said, wrapping his arms around her
waist.  "I know I want it."

"I want that too," she said.  They sat in silence for a moment,
until Monica said, "Did I ever tell you about my report to the
Special Agent in Charge when I worked your case?"  Of course she
knew she hadn't, but now seemed the time to tell him.

"Only a little," John answered.  "Just that you ruled me out as a
suspect."

Monica turned on his lap until she could study his face.  It was
flushed, from the champagne she supposed, but he seemed relaxed
and content.  Ready to hear her story.  "I was put on the case
with the explicit instruction to get the dirt on you."

"I suspected as much," he said, unconcerned.

"You knew?" she asked.  "Well, I shouldn't be surprised.  You
were a good cop.  But that's why the Agent in Charge thought
you'd confide in me.  Because compared to you I was so
inexperienced."

"That's what tipped me off," he said.  "Why send a rookie on a
case involving a cop?"

"I wasn't a rookie," Monica said, straightening.  "I'd been in
the bureau for three years."

John smiled.  "And would you trust someone with three years to
find Gibson if he disappeared?"  Her silence answered his
question.  "I thought so," he said smugly.  "But it didn't take
me long to tell you were sharp."

She blushed, then confessed, "They asked me to check for chinks
your marriage, to see if there was a custody case coming up, and
whether you were violent at home.  Those cases are much more
common than stranger-abductions, you know."

"Yes, I know," he said, rubbing her arm.  "I knew I'd be a
suspect."

"Want to know why I ruled you out?" Monica asked.  His silence
answered her question.  "I determined that you were a devoted
father and loyal husband... despite the chinks in your marriage."

"Loyal husband," he murmured, then thought it over a moment.
"Yes, you're right.  I stayed with her because when you're
married that's what you do."

Monica sighed, relieved that he hadn't taken her assessment
personally.  "And that's why I had no hesitation about marrying
you.  I know you'll keep your promise.  To me, and to Gibson."
She wanted to add "to William," but decided to save that issue
for later.

"And you never forgot about Luke," John said.  "That's why I
would have no hesitation having children with you.  But about
marrying you..."  He stopped himself, but worry lines appeared on
her forehead.  Now that he'd started, he had to finish, he
realized.  "I wasn't sure about you until I found out what
happened with Follmer.  Why you ended it."

"What did you think before that?" she asked.  So few people knew
about her relationship with Brad that she'd never given a thought
to how the breakup looked to the few who did know.

"I didn't know what to think, Monica," John admitted.  "One day
you're in love with him, and I've given up trying to talk you
into dumping him, and the next day... Poof!  You're in New
Orleans and you don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry, John," she said.  "I just couldn't tell you..."

"I know," he said soothingly.  "I understand now.  But you gotta
admit, it looked strange.  And this all happened just after Barb
left me, and she never gave me any signs...  I had to know
history wouldn't repeat itself."

"Oh, John," she sighed.  "I had no idea..."

"You were loyal to him in your way," he said.  "And even now,
you're keeping his secret."

"Except from you," she said. "I'll never keep secrets from you."
And to seal her promise, she kissed him, tenderly at first, but
quickly deepening into a passionate invitation to bed.

John put their glasses on the table then stood, with Monica still
in his arms, and carried her to the bed.  He laid her down
gently, and let her watch as he undressed in front of her.  When
he was finished, he began undressing her, and she lay there
passively, watching his eyes as her body revealed itself to him.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighed when he was finished.  "How
did I get so lucky?"

"It wasn't luck," she whispered.  "It was fate.  We belong
together."

"I can't argue with that," he smiled, then knelt on the bed,
straddling her hips.  He bent forward until he could nuzzle her
neck, then brought his face up to meet hers.  "Mrs. Doggett..."
He lowered his body onto hers, and the contact made Monica
shiver.

"Husband," she whispered.

They made love slowly that night, exploring each other's bodies
as if they'd never been together before.  When they were
finished, they lay facing each other with nothing but the sound
of the air conditioner breaking their peace.

"Thank you for telling me the truth," Monica said as her eyes
closed.

"You deserve nothing less," John answered.  He kissed her sweaty
forehead then turned onto his stomach and fell into a deep sleep.


***********NC-17 Version******************

"Husband," she whispered.

They kissed, slowly savoring the taste of marital intimacy.  John
rubbed his body over hers, letting his erection tease her
ticklish spots but turning away at the first feel of her
sensitive hairs.  She groaned and urged him closer to her center,
but he whispered, "Why the rush, Mrs. Doggett?  We have the rest
of our lives."

She groaned again and thrust her hips upward, bumping against his
thighs.  "I hope you're right," she said.

For an answer, he nibbled at the sweet spot behind her ear that
never failed to send shivers down her spine.  She surrendered
herself to his pace and his ministrations, enjoying the tender
kissed he trailed from her ear to her collarbone, then downward,
where he found the heart necklace she always wore, the one he'd
given her a lifetime ago.  He took it between his finger and
thumb, then kissed it and trailed more kisses toward the center
of her chest, lingering over her heart.  Monica let out a sigh,
and his recently-developed sixth sense felt it.  She understood.

He brought his hands to her breasts, then caressed them in
perfect synchrony as she writhed sensuously beneath him.  Keeping
his hands on her breasts, he picked up his trail of kisses,
moving downward until his mouth just brushed her curly brown
hairs.  "John..." she sighed as her hips rose to meet his mouth,
urging him downward.  He obeyed, but went at a teasingly slow
pace until her knees, seemingly with minds of their own, drew
upwards until his body was engulfed between her legs and his
mouth was forced to meet her musky center.

He knew what she wanted.  He always knew now. She could never
imagine sex with another man now, and now she would never have
to.  As his tongue explored the peaks and valleys of her private
geography she grabbed the bedspread and pulled on it until she
had a massive wad in each hand.  "More," she moaned.  "Don't
stop... ohhhh yes, yes...."  He took her encouragement to heart
and inserted first one then two fingers into her core, rubbing
them against her most sensitive places and reaching into the
hidden spot that would send her over the edge.  With a few
well-timed strokes he brought her to a shuddering climax that
left her breathless.

He crawled back over her body, keeping his body close enough to
feel her heat.  "You liked that?" he asked when they were face to
face.

She grinned.  "What makes you think that?"

"Oh I dunno," he grinned back.  "Just a feeling."

"Well, it wasn't the end to end all endings," she warned.  "In a
minute or two..."

"I was hoping you'd say that," he said, laying to one side of her
with his arm draped over her waist.  "Because there's more where
that came from."

"I hope so," she chuckled.  "Otherwise I'm going to have to ask
Tomas for an annulment!"

"Oh, don't worry Mrs. Doggett," John said, rubbing her stomach
subconsciously.  "I have every intention of consummating this
marriage!"

"Whew," she sighed.  "I was worried for a minute there..."

His hand widened its track, making wide circle eights going over
her abdomen, crossing its path over her navel, riding the curve
of each breast, then crossing the navel again...  He knew this
would drive her wild, and he was right.  She grabbed his head and
kissed him with passionate abandon, then moved one of her legs
over his.  He let her take control as she turned him onto his
back and then straddled his hips, just as he'd straddled hers.

Then, just as he'd trailed kisses down her body, she began a
trail down his, resting her ear momentarily over his heart.  She
listened to the beat, strong, steady, constant, and lost herself
in the thought that this heart would be beating next to hers
every night for the rest of her life.  That is, until John
groaned and grabbed her hair.  He pushed on her head, hinting at
what he wanted, and she obeyed.  His erection was as massive as
she'd ever seen it, and she wondered how long she could tease
him, but his half-lidded eyes were watching hers and seemed happy
with the direction things were going as she licked, sucked, and
tickled him to distraction.  Finally, she drew her tongue up
along its sensitive ridge, and when she came to the tip she
tasted the salty hint of his readiness.  She slurped it up then
positioned herself over him, letting her own salty readiness drip
onto his.

"Let me know if I'm taking things too fast for you," she teased.
He answered by grabbing her hips and urging her downward until
they were a mere inch from consummating their marriage.  "You're
sure?  After this we can't get an annulment," she said.

He let go of her hips and with one hand scratched his chin.  "You
*do* have a point there," he said.

She lowered herself that last inch, then slowly slid herself onto
him, saying, "I think it's too late to turn back now."  She began
with a slow rhythm that he seemed to go along with at first, but
soon he began meeting her thrusts with urgent thrusts of his own.
"Stop!" he said, and she did.  She moved off of him gradually,
holding herself up by her arms, then side-stepped on her knees to
one side.  "Yes, perfect," he said.  He stood up and walked her
backward until she was positioned where he could begin his
patented Doggett-style pleasuring.  Taking control, he
concentrated on making it last, thinking about baseball,
football, NASCAR... until he felt the shuddering signal to let
himself go.

They collapsed together on the bed, then for a long time they lay
facing each other with nothing but the sound of the air
conditioner breaking their peace.

"Thank you for telling me the truth," Monica said as her eyes
closed.

"You deserve nothing less," John answered.  He kissed her sweaty
forehead then turned onto his stomach and fell into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

For the next week John, Monica and Gibson watched William's
condition deteriorate as they waited for the appointment Vince
made for them.  It was soon obvious they had to do something, and
on the ride to the hospital, William yelped every time Frank's
van hit a bump.  Monica, in the seat next to William, winced in
sympathy as John and Gibson, sitting behind them, exchanged
worried glances.

They had packed a few days' supplies, in case William needed to
check in.  Monica felt sure they were doing the right thing.
John wasn't so sure.  If Vince's source, or Vince, were leaking
their whereabouts to the wrong people, he could be delivering his
entire new-found family into the hands of ... of whoever was
coming next.  But John trusted Gibson, and Gibson trusted Vince,
and Vince trusted his source at the hospital.  It was the best
assurance John could hope for.

Their contact was a Dr. Gomez, a short squat man whose narrow
eyes gave him an impression of being Asian despite his Spanish
name.  He grasped John's right hand firmly, and smiled when John
placed his left hand over Gomez' meaty one.  "I have one too,"
Gomez grinned, holding up his left hand and displaying his
wedding ring.  "Very handy."

"Very," John agreed, then let go of Gomez' hands.

Gomez shook Monica's, Vince's, Frank's and Gibson's hands in
turn, smiling beneficently.  Afterward, he ran his hand over
Gibson's scalp and said, "I wish I could have stopped that.  How
are you doing now?"

Gibson blushed.  "I'm okay.  We're here about him," he said,
nodding to William, who was in a stroller.

Gomez squatted to be on William's eye level then grasped the
baby's hand.  "Pleased to meet you."  William giggled and kicked
happily.  "You said there was something wrong with his back?"
Gomez asked Vince.  Vince nodded.  Gomez grabbed one of William's
feet and tickled it, making William kick and giggle again.
"Well, this is a good sign," he said.  "Let's look for some more
good news."

Monica sighed loudly and began taking William from his stroller,
but John wasn't comforted.  "You should see his scar before you
say that."

"If I didn't see the glass as half full I could never work with
children, Mr. Flores," Gomez said. "It keeps me going."

Chided, John stood back as Gomez gave William a thorough
examination, but Monica stood at the other side of the
examination table, asking questions and watching carefully.
Gomez glanced at Vince occasionally, but asked no questions until
finishing his exam.  "You told me he was adopted," he said to
Vince.  "I think I know which child this is.  His adoptive
parents were abducted, found near death in fields near their
home, then had miraculous recoveries," Gomez said.  "A few months
later they adopted him."

"Aw, Jeez," John said.

Monica felt heartsick at the news.  William had been living with
super soldiers.

"And you think you know this child too?" Gomez asked Monica.

She nodded, then told him William's story, up to the shot that
was supposed to have made him normal.

"If what you say is true, my guess is..." Gomez said as he
crossed his office then pulled a piece of metal from a drawer.
"...that his new parents wanted him to be more like them."  He
waved the metal in front of William's eyes until the baby grabbed
it and began sucking on it, then he took it from him, rolled
William onto his stomach, and waved it over the back of his head,
his neck, and down over his spine.  As it passed over the scar it
vibrated violently in Gomez's hand, then flew to William's back,
landing with a whack that made William cry.

Monica picked him up protectively as Gomez looked at Vince.  "I
think we have our answer."

"And what would that be?" John demanded.

"He was injected with a form of magnetite, which changed him,
made him more normal," Gomez said thoughtfully.  "Which would
create problems for his new parents.  Magnetite binds to calcium,
so it would have been absorbed into his bones."

"Including his spine," Monica sighed.  "But why...?"

"With magnetite in his bones, he would have created quite a
problem for his parents, because they would have had an alloy in
theirs..."  He held up the piece of metal for emphasis.  "An
alloy that reacts to magnetite.  He would have been a very sick
baby, and they wouldn't have been able to pick him up.  And they
got their alloy from..."

"Spinal implants," Vince said, closing his eyes.  "Created by the
military and used on unwitting soldiers in the 1980s."

Gomez nodded.  "More effective methods of creating super soldiers
have been created since then.  But if my guess is true, that's
what happened here.  The way it works is that the initial implant
is created from 'smart' molecules that replicate specific
structures in a preprogrammed sequence, using trace elements
drawn from the subject's blood.  Are you following me?" he asked
John.

"Yeah, someone tried to turn the kid into a super soldier, isn't
that what you're telling us?" John answered.

"Yes," Gomez said.

"So why is he in such pain?" Monica asked.  "I thought super
soldiers were, well... super.  Shouldn't he have just gotten over
it?"

"We'll need X-Rays to be sure, but I think the trouble here is
that William already was a super soldier.  And yes, he is getting
over it.  Feel here?" he said, putting a finger on one of the
larger vertebrae.

Monica put her finger on the same place, but felt nothing
unusual.  She pressed harder, which made William cry out.  "What
are you saying?  There's something wrong with the implant?"

"This alloy is stronger than any known on Earth," Gomez said.
"Yet it's bulging, right here..." He took Monica's hand and
directed her finger to the place he'd noticed.  "Feel it?"

"A little, but I can't really..." Monica said.  Suddenly it was
all too much for her and she found her eyes misting up.

"His own spine is re-growing, and that's the source of most of
his pain," Gomez said.  "But imagine, putting a bone made from
the alloy next to a bone made from magnetite?"  Gomez shuddered
and stroked William's head.  "I can't imagine what he must be
feeling."

John edged her hand away and tried to feel it.  "I don't feel a
thing."  He looked suspiciously at Gomez, then demanded, "I wanna
X-Ray taken."

Gomez arranged for an X-Ray, and they could overhear his cover
story.  The Flores family's baby had been born with spina bifida,
and he had received a defective, experimental spinal implant at a
disreputable offshore teaching hospital.  They would be Gomez'
latest pet project, and he would absorb the costs himself.

The entire entourage accompanied William to the radiology
department, where Gomez' reputation and his story seemed to have
cleared the way for an off-the-record X-Ray.  Afterward, they
waited in silence in Gomez' office for the X-Rays to develop.
When they arrived, Gomez hung them over  the light on his wall.
"See?" he said, pointing to the dark places in the pictures.
"You can see these little bulges.  His own spine is growing
inside these."  He pointed to the area where the darker vertebrae
ended.  "And see here?  This vertebrae is pulling away.  Not only
is the alloy not taking over his spinal column, it's not growing
at all.  But his own spine is."

"And pressing against his spinal column," Monica said.  She
looked mournfully into William's face and he looked into her
eyes.  It was eerie, but she could swear she felt him pleading
for help.  She turned her gaze toward John, giving him the same
pleading look.

"Okay, what do we gotta do?  Surgery?" John asked.

"Gibson," Vince broke in.  "Let's you, me and William check out
the playground."

Gibson glanced at John and Monica, fearful of leaving them but
obviously tempted by the offer.

"Go on," John said.  He'd noticed Gibson's discomfort at being in
a hospital, and considering the boy's history he didn't blame him
one bit.  When the boy-man still seemed hesitant, John
thought-cast to him, "Remember you have a gun and you're a damned
good shot."  Gibson grinned, then John said aloud, "Be the big
brother and cheer William up."

"They'll be okay," Gibson reassured Monica as the three left for
the playground.  "And you should see Vince with the kids there!
He plays with all the kids, clowns around, puts the really sick
ones on his lap and swing with them... It's not like playing with
your own kids, but he loves it," he said.

John stood silently, feeling Monica absorb the meaning behind the
words.  Now that he knew her parents' story, he felt for Vince as
much as he felt for her.  Vince had missed out on so much, even
more than John had.

"Okay," Monica said bravely.  "What next?"

"There's an expert on spina bifida on this staff who's been
designing experimental pins to hold developing spines together.
I think it's time to call her," Gomez said.

"You're talking about removing these implants, right?" John
asked.  "Will his own be able to take over?"

"Will he be able to walk?" Monica asked simultaneously.

"These babies have remarkable recuperative powers," Gomez said.
"But even so, his recovery will be..."

"These babies?" John interrupted.  "How many kids like him have
you seen?"

Gomez hesitated, but said finally, "I've seen over thirty, but I
know there are many more."  He rubbed his finger over the dark
spots on the X-Ray.  "But I've never seen anything like this.
This is... disturbing."

"You think there are more kids out there like this?" John asked.

"No, not yet," Gomez said gravely.  "And I probably won't again,
but this means..."

"That even after they've been adopted, these kids aren't safe,"
Monica concluded.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN

*this chapter and the next are dedicated to on2freedom*

The following day Gomez, John, Monica, Gibson, Vince and William
met with the spina bifida specialist, a tiny slip of a woman who
looked like she'd blow away in a stiff wind.  But contrary to
appearances, she proved to be a powerful force who could get
things done, and quickly.  Known as "Doctor Liz" around the
hospital, Doctor Elizabeth Spark seemed to John to be smart
enough to have seen through Gomez' cover story but compassionate
enough not to care.  Doctor Liz seemed completely unconcerned
with using her unusual case to prove anything to anyone.  She
only cared about relieving William's suffering.

"First, we remove these aberrations," Dr. Liz sneered, pointing
to the implants on one of William's X-Rays.  "Next, we give him
time to let his vertebrae grow back.  He'll have to be in a body
cast for a good while, and it's impossible to tell how long.
I've never seen a spine grow like this before, and I've sure as
hell never seen one grow inside a...  You're *sure* you don't
know when this was done to him?"

John and Monica shook their heads as innocently as they could.
Monica held William in her lap, and kissed the top of his head as
if to prove their cover story.  Dr. Liz shot Gibson a curious
glance, and the couple guessed that she felt the boy scanning her
intentions, or that she was scanning his.  They glanced at him,
and he nodded approvingly.

Doctor Liz took in the exchange, but seemed unfazed.  "We'll do
the best we can," she said.  "But in the end his recovery will
depend on his parents."  Noting the surprise in John and Monica's
faces, she continued, "Even though his spine *may* recover, his
brain hasn't been able to use the nerves from the waist down
properly.  He'll need physical therapy to re-learn to use his
muscles, and to catch up with where he should be. I'll set you up
with a physical therapist who can help you with special
exercises, including hydrotherapy.  You have access to a pool at
home?"

Home.  John, Monica, and Gibson's shoulders all sagged at the
word.  Their home was in the Via now, but they had no home of
their own.  And for the first time they felt the full weight of
it.

"Yes, they do," Vince answered.  "Go ahead and teach them
everything they need to know."

Monica smiled at him with a grateful sigh, but John glowered
beneath a wrinkled brow.  What was behind this? he wondered, and
he was even more curious when Gibson piped up, saying, "Yeah,
it's a great pool!"

Doctor Spark looked from Vince to Gomez, then shrugged.  "My
advice is for one of you," she nodded toward John and Monica.
"...to learn the calisthenics he'll need and the other to learn
the hydrotherapy.  It could be a long and exhausting recovery."
She glanced at Gibson, who had relaxed against the wall behind
John and Monica, his arms crossed over his chest.  "And you *do*
have another child to consider.  I've seen too many cases of the
older child feeling abandoned by the parent who focuses on the
sick child.  You should share the job for his sake as well as
your own," she advised.

A wave of guilt came over Monica, and she glanced over her
shoulder at Gibson.  "I'm sorry," she thought at him, but he
didn't seem concerned.  He reached around her and stroked
William's shoulder.  "Don't worry about me," he whispered.

Of course, Monica worried even more when she heard this.  Poor
Gibson, she thought.  Never being part of a true family his whole
life, and now that he had them...

"Will he be able to walk?" John asked insistently, oblivious to
Monica and Gibson.

"Probably," Doctor Spark answered.  "But even if he can't, the
pain should improve."

"Improve?" Monica repeated.

"Listen, I can't give you a prognosis until after we get in
there, and even if the surgery is successful, he could have
lingering problems," Spark said.  "Assuming you're going to go
ahead with this...."

"What choice do we have?" Monica asked.  "Give him a life of
constant pain?  Never being able to walk?  Living his whole life
in a wheelchair?"

"It's more than that," Doctor Spark said.  "He could have fluid
in his brain, his spinal cord may not grow as fast as his spine,
making it stretch painfully...."

"Assuming he lives," Gomez pointed out.  "Not to mention, he'd be
incontinent and impotent."

John winced at the word "impotent."  It was hard to imagine the
tiny tyke ever having sex, but now that he thought about it, he
wanted the kid to grow up to have *every* pleasure a man could
have.  "When do we start?" he asked.

"I'll start making calls, assemble a team," Spark said, thinking
aloud.  "Three days?  Maybe four?  Depends on the team's other
commitments.  Dr. Gomez will set you up in a family suite.  Can
we meet back here tomorrow?  Same time?"

They agreed to meet, and Doctor Liz went to her office to make
arrangements.  Gomez did indeed set them up in a nice suite, with
a crib for William that was decorated with homey touches that
almost offset the impersonal bank of data input ports next to it.
Gomez explained that after William came out of surgery he would
be monitored from his "own" room, with his "parents" and
"brother" close at hand.  Vince and Frank returned to Frank's
motel to work on the pool, leaving the little family alone in its
new home.

William went into the operating room two days later.  John,
Monica, and Gibson each took turns kissing William's forehead as
he John hated to ask Gibson to scan the team, but he whispered,
"They okay?"

Gibson gave each the once-over and whispered, "Yeah, they're
excited about the case, and a little nervous, but they seem
okay."

Excited about the case, John thought.  He wasn't a human being to
them, and maybe hadn't been a human being to anybody except
Scully, himself, Monica, and Gibson.  Monica followed William and
his surgical team to the door, then turned and looked mournfully
at John.  He laid his arm across the back of the empty seat next
to his, and she went to it automatically.

She could have relaxed into his embrace, but she sat upright,
chewing on her lower lip, wondering what was happening to William
and watching the clock.  She stared out the window on the
opposite wall, looking at the greenery in a small courtyard
garden, then she noticed a woman sitting next to the window.  She
looked like Monica felt, but unlike Monica was sitting alone,
with nothing but her baby's teddy bear for comfort.  With her
short stature and wide cheekbones, the woman reminded Monica of
some of the women in her adoptive family, and she suddenly felt
homesick.

Some instinct made Monica go to the woman's side and say, "Espa
usted de Mexico?"  The woman responded gratefully, telling Monica
her whole story.  Her name was Anna Sanchez, and she too was a
charity case.  Her baby was about William's age, and was having a
cancerous brain tumor removed.  The baby's father was back home
in Mexico, as was her entire family.

Listening to Anna's story kept Monica's mind off William, and it
was twenty minutes later when she glanced at her husband.  He
smiled appreciatively and leaned back in his chair, obviously
enjoying the sight.   Monica blushed.  Comforting the Doggetts
had helped her forget herself, and they had always credited her
with more unselfishness than she felt she deserved.  She turned
back toward Anna and told her a bit of William's story, letting
the tears flow when she described his uncertain prognosis.

When the operating room door opened, all eyes were on the
green-clad doctor approaching the two women.  When he removed his
surgical mask, Monica saw that it was Gomez.

"The implants are proving harder to remove than we'd thought.
That alloy is resisting all our efforts to..." Gomez paused when
he saw John and Gibson out of both corners of his eye.  "He's
doing well, but we want your permission to try something drastic.
It *should* work..."

Gomez put out his arms to lead Gibson and John back to their
seats, and nodded for Monica to follow.  Anna gave Monica's hand
a comforting squeeze, then started pulling on the teddy bear's
ears.

When they were a safe distance from prying ears, Gomez said, "The
implants aren't budging, and William's own spine is too close to
the implants for them to get any leverage."

"So they're giving up?" John asked incredulously.

"Not yet," Gomez said.  "But we want your permission to try
something drastic."

Monica's heart sank at the word.  Drastic?  "What?" she gasped.

"Considering his recuperative ability, this might not be as
drastic as it sounds" Gomez said.  "But there *is* a risk,
especially after he's had that magnetite shot..."

Gibson's face blanched and he excused himself, going in the
direction of the small garden.  John and Monica watched as he
reappeared in the window, then sat on a park bench, his face
turned upward into the sun.

"What is it?" John asked.  "Could it kill him?"

"No, even in a worst-case scenario it wouldn't kill him," Gomez
assured him.

"Then what could be so drastic?" Monica asked.

"Sever the spine," Gomez said.  "Then pull the cord free from the
implants, along with his developing vertebrae.  If they can't
free his vertebrae then, they'd just reattach the cord without
any vertebrae at all.  But if they can be salvaged, they'd
re-thread them, like beads on a string, and *then* reattach the
cord.  The risk is..."

"That the spinal cord wouldn't heal?" John asked, reaching for
Monica's hand and giving it a squeeze.

Monica let John grasp her hand, but she didn't have the strength
to return the squeeze.  "And his vertebrae... if they can't be
salvaged, then what?"

"I think new ones would grow back, just as they did before,"
Gomez said.  "But of course ..."

"You've never seen anything like this," John said.  He closed his
eyes, and his grip on Monica's hand tightened until she had to
pull her hand free.

"Do it," Monica said.  "We can't let those things stay there."

"I agree," John said mechanically.  "Do whatever you have to."




CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Several hours later, Doctors Gomez and Spark came to the waiting
room.  John noticed them first and leapt to his feet.  "Well?" he
asked.

Monica stood and reached for John's hand.  "How is he?"

"Will he be able to walk?" Gibson asked.

Wrinkles on Gomez' brow collapsed as he heaved a sigh.
"Probably."

"Probably?" John repeated, his voice rising a notch.  "What the
hell does that mean?"

"What my husband means," Monica said gently but resolutely.  "Is
that we want to know everything.  How did things go?  What
happens next?"

John shot her an annoyed glance, but he couldn't be angry with
her.  She was right to try to keep him from making a scene.  He
gave her hand a grateful and apologetic squeeze, then said in
measured tones, "How is he?"

"It went well," Gomez said.

"As well as we could hope for, under the circumstances," Stark
added.  "His own vertebrae were bigger than they looked on the
X-Rays.  If we'd waited any longer we couldn't have saved them."

Monica sighed.  "So he'll be okay?"

"Yes, but he'll be in some pain for some time," Stark warned.
"We broke the vertebrae and the discs to free them from the
implants, then put them back in place, pinned together with tiny
pins that shouldn't affect his future growth."

"It's the most brilliant engineering I've ever seen in an O.R.,"
Gomez said.

Stark blushed.  "We just did what we had to for the little boy's
sake.  When he wakes up we'll know how much function we were able
to save."

"Have you people had lunch?" Gomez asked.  "It's almost dinner
time, and he won't be awake for awhile...  It's on me."

"I'm not hungry," Monica said.  "I'll just check on him..."

"Me too," Gibson said, though a very loud rumble from his stomach
made everyone laugh.  "He'll want his big brother there when he
wakes up."

John sighed.  Gibson had good reason to worry.  "Let's all check
on him."

"I understand.  We'll bring something back for you," Gomez said.
He led them to William's recovery room, leaving Dr. Spark in the
waiting room.

William was barely recognizable.  Tubes and wires ran everywhere,
with yards of hospital tape holding them in place.  Monica rushed
to the baby's bed, then rubbed her fingertip on one of the few
tiny patches of skin that wasn't taped over.  "Hi little guy,"
she whispered, then kissed the tiny patch of skin she'd been
stroking.  "Feeling better?"

She didn't expect an answer, of course, but she could swear she
felt a rush of gratitude coming from the child.  She reached for
his tiny hand, putting two of her fingers into his fist, then
felt his fingers wrap around hers.

Gomez whispered to John, "It's not as bad as it looks.  And if
he's what we think he is, I think we can expect a full recovery."

"Thanks, Doc," John said, his voice threatening to give out.
"Thanks for everything."

Gomez gave him an encouraging grin, then glanced at Gibson.
"This is what it means to be part of the Via."

After Gomez left, John went to Monica's side and put his arm
around her.  "He says it's not as bad as it looks," he said, then
kissed her cheek.

"I know," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.  "Somehow I
know it'll be alright."

Gibson approached William's crib from the other side and stroked
his other hand.  "Yeah, I feel it too," he said.

John looked at each hopeful face in turn, not sure what to think
of their optimism.  Was it wishful thinking?  Were they being
influenced by Gomez?  Or was William telling them something?  He
moved around Monica so he could stroke William's cheek, finding
the same tiny spot of uncovered skin that Monica had stroked.  He
didn't feel anything coming from the child, but he felt a huge
wellspring of feeling from himself.  His hand automatically moved
to stroke the baby's hair, and John found himself promising to
take care of the little guy, no matter what.  Suddenly, he felt
the pressure of Monica's hand in his free one, and he gave it a
gentle squeeze.  He hadn't felt anything from the baby, but he
sure felt something from his wife.  She had made the same promise
to William, and now she was making a promise to him.

When the doctors returned, William was still asleep, his fingers
still wrapped around Monica's.  John and Gibson had taken up
positions in the hallway, watching for signs of trouble while
keeping an eye on William.

As they ate, Spark and Gomez filled the family in on all the
surgical details.  They were able to sever the spine at the base
of the implant, where minimal damage would be done.  Still, he
could lose the use of his legs and might need a colostomy bag or
diapers the rest of his life.  But they had been able to slide
the implant off then replace what was salvageable of William's
own vertebrae without further damage to the other nerves.  Future
trouble could come if there is a lot of scar tissue, but it was
far too early to know.

John barely touched his food, nauseous from some of the more
graphic details and anxious about the news, but Monica took in
the whole story, asking intelligent questions and taking even the
most horrendous-sounding procedures in stride.

"You gonna eat that?" Gibson asked John, eyeing his untouched
mashed potatoes.

John smiled and shoved the plate toward the growing boy, then
moved to Monica's side.  "You finished?" he asked her.  She
nodded, then let John gave Gibson her leftovers.  John smiled as
he watched Gibson inhale the cold hospital food.  He remembered
when he was sixteen, the year he'd shot up from 5'5" to 5'10"
over the summer.  He'd had that kind of appetite, too.

When Gomez and Spark had finished eating, John asked, "What next?
He can't do physical therapy in this condition."

"No, but you can," Spark answered.  "While he's recovering you'll
be learning your part.  He can go home as soon as the body cast
is off, but he'll have a long recovery."

"Not as long as most," Gomez pointed out.  "But he still has a
long way to go."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When William woke up he was groggy, as the doctors had predicted,
but he recognized Monica instantly and graced her with a cherubic
smile.  ...which pulled on his tubing.  ...which made him cry.

Monica and John tried to be brave, but Gibson wasn't fooled, and
he suddenly felt the need for some air.  He turned and walked
toward the door.  "Gibson..." Monica called out, but Gibson kept
walking.

"Let him go," John said.  "This has been rough for him."

"Go after him, John," she urged.

John looked down on William, who continued to cry.  There was
nothing he could do for him, he figured.  And Monica would stay
with him.  Although they both loved their foster children it was
becoming obvious to him that William was Monica's "baby" and
Gibson was his.  And in all the time he'd spent with Gibson, they
never had discussed the medical procedures performed on him.
Maybe now was the time.  "Okay," he said.  "But if I can't find
him, I'm coming right back."  He kissed her cheek, then bent down
to kiss William's forehead.  "Don't let your guard down, Monica,"
he warned.

"I won't," she promised.

She pulled a chair to William's side then put one knee on it as
she leaned over the side of the crib.  "Does it hurt, sweetie?"
she asked gently.  She stroked his hair then added, "It won't
hurt for long.  I promise."

William stayed awake for a few minutes, then fell asleep again.
But Monica stayed by his bedside, still stroking his hair and
talking to him.

"He's not awake yet?" Doctor Liz's voice rang out from the hall.

Monica jumped slightly then caught her breath and said, "He woke
up for awhile, but he went right back to sleep."

"That's good," Doctor Liz said.  "Let's try to wake him up
again..."  She crossed to William's crib then took a sharp
utensil from her coat pocket.  She dragged it gently against the
sole of William's foot, but William didn't respond.   Next, she
dragged it against his thigh, just below the edge of his body
cast.  Still no response.

Monica looked on, blinking back tears as the reality of William's
paralysis began to sink in.  Her William's feet had been very
ticklish.  This new William would never giggle at foot tickling
again.

"William?" Dr. Liz cooed over him.  When he didn't respond she
touched his face and said more loudly, "William?"

When William continued to be oblivious to Dr. Liz' attempts to
awaken him, Monica thought silently, "William *please* wake up
for Dr. Liz!"

Just then William's eyes opened, and Dr. Liz smiled.  "That's
more like it!"

Monica exhaled loudly enough for Dr. Liz to hear.  "He's okay?"
she asked hopefully.

As Dr. Liz shone a light into William's eyes, she said, "As good
as can be expected."  She continued with her preliminary tests,
muttering to herself all the while.  When William's feet didn't
respond, even when awake, Monica turned around.

Dr. Gomez was at the doorway, watching the procedures silently,
but when he saw Monica's grim expression he went to her and put a
friendly arm around her shoulders.  Monica accepted the gesture
gratefully, and when he turned her around to watch the rest, she
found it easier to bear.

"Well?" Monica asked when Dr. Liz was finished.

"Like I said, things are as good as we could hope for right now,"
Dr. Liz answered.

"Good," Gomez responded.  "And his loss of sensation, in his
feet?"

"Could be temporary, could be permanent.  Time will tell," Dr.
Liz said flatly.

"So there's still hope?" Monica asked.

"Oh, there's always hope!" Gomez said, giving her shoulder a
squeeze.  "Never lose hope!"

Dr. Liz put her supplies back into her pocket, made some notes on
William's chart, then gave Monica a reassuring smile.
"Considering what had been done to him, I think he's doing
remarkably well."

"Good job, Liz," Dr. Gomez said.

"Yes, thank you for everything," Monica gushed, grabbing one of
the doctor's hands and shaking it desperately.

Dr. Liz left to attend to other patients, then Monica resumed her
place at William's side.  He was asleep again, but to Monica it
looked now like a peaceful, healing sleep.

"She's a good doctor," Gomez said.

"Thank you, too," Monica said softly.

"I trust her," Gomez added.  "But there's something you should
know."

Monica looked up, her brow crinkling as if to accept bad news.

"There was a scar over his spine, but when she got inside there
wasn't any scar tissue.  There should have been," Gomez said.

"Which means?" Monica asked.

"Which means that he's got the gene, the altered gene."  Gomez
lowered his voice then added, "The super soldier gene.  He's
going to recover completely."

*********************

John found Gibson a few doors down, leaning against the door jamb
of another intensive care room.  A baby lay on the bed, its head
swathed in a large turban of gauze, tubes issuing from every
orifice.  To one side were monitors and to the other was the
woman Monica had befriended in the waiting room.

"It's bad," Gibson whispered.  "Worse than William."

John glanced at the baby then looked down at Gibson.  The scars
from Gibson's surgery lined his scalp, but until now John rarely
gave them a thought.  They were just part of what made Gibson
Gibson for him.  "Remind you of someone?"  For emphasis, John put
his hand over Gibson's scars.

Gibson shook off John's hand.  "No, this is different."

"Sorry."  John took a step backward.

"Someone experimented on this baby, and I think it's my fault,"
Gibson said softly.

"Yours?" John asked, pulling on Gibson's arm until they were both
in the hall, out of earshot from the baby's mother.

Gibson motioned for John to follow him, then led him to the
playground.  There, amid the swings and slides and sandboxes,
Gibson picked out one sick child.  "See that boy with the bald
head?  Playing with a toy truck?"

John nodded.  "What about him?"

"He's like the baby girl in the room.  That little girl's cancer,
it's the same one in this boy," Gibson explained.  "It's in their
brains."  He sat down on a bench, and John took a seat next to
him.  "William played with the girl when Vince and I took William
here a few days ago.  She was one of us, I felt it.  William felt
it too."

"Okay," John said, carefully checking Gibson's expression.  "But
I still don't see what that has to do with you?"

"Four years ago Agent Scully did some tests on me," Gibson said.
"One part of my brain was over-active, a part that is normally
very quiet.  She believed that's where my gift came from."

"She told me about that," John said.  "Seems like a good theory."

"Did she also tell you how she got cancer?"

John blanched.  "Yes."

"She got it because one part of her brain was stimulated to make
her ovulate," Gibson said.  "They put an implant in her, then
took her ovaries."

"Where did you hear that?" John asked.

"Mulder," Gibson answered.  "He told me all about it."

"Okay, so back to you," John said.  "How are you to blame?"

"You don't get it?  They're trying to make more of me!"  His
voice rose, ending in an adolescent squeak that tugged at John's
heart.

"I don't think..." John began, but Gibson found his voice and
interrupted him.

"This baby, and the little girl...  they got cancer in the part
of the brain where I'm special.  Somehow they found out about
those tests, and..." Gibson's voice deserted him again, and he
looked upward for a long moment.  "It's the reason they're not
coming after me any more.  They already got what they wanted from
me."

"Now, hold on," John said. "You're telling me all these kids are
part of the same....'

"No." Gibson sniffled then reached for a kleenex. After giving
his nose a very loud, very anti-social blow that John resolved to
help Gibson unlearn, the boy sighed deeply. "Only a few of the
children here are like us. And only a few of the doctors know."

John watched the child Gibson had pointed out, wondering what
Gibson's theories meant and whether they could be true. The baby
seemed normal, but suddenly he began seizing, and his voice
uttered an animalistic howl as his arms and legs threw themselves
into painful-looking spasms. Within seconds, the baby's mother
and two attendants had pulled him onto the grass and begun taking
care of him. The other children moved to the other side of the
playground, but continued playing, unconcerned.

Gibson walked over to the little crowd, staring all the while at
the thrashing baby.
"Gibson?" John said as he tugged at Gibson's sleeve.

But Gibson paid no attention to John. He knelt next to one of the
attendants then placed a hand on the baby's chest.

Suddenly, the baby's limbs stopped thrashing and he lay there
completely at peace.


CHAPTER SIXTEEN

John pulled Gibson back.  "What did you do?" he whispered
angrily.

"He's not dead," Gibson said. "I just sent him a message to calm
him down.  It's that part of the brain that..."

They were interrupted by one of the men who had been attending
the child.  "Don't do that again," he said, pulling Gibson
further away from the activity.

Gibson looked up into the man's face, his eyes wide with fright.
"Why?"

John put a protective arm around Gibson's shoulders and said, "He
was only trying to help."

"Sub rosa means 'in secret' Gibson," the man hissed, then turned
to walk away.

"Wait a minute."  John grabbed the man's arm, making him stop in
his tracks.  "First of all, don't talk to my boy that way,
understand?"

Obviously sensing John's anger, the man nodded.

"Second, what the hell is going on here?  How many kids are there
like this?"

The man's eyes darted from one colleague to another, and when he
was satisfied that they weren't paying attention to them, he
whispered, "We've seen a lot lately.  You know what happened to
them?"

"Someone tried to make them like us," Gibson said.

The man nodded toward a distant bench and the three walked toward
it.  "Whoever they are, they're getting desperate.  We're seeing
more and more kids with problems like this.  Problems from
experimental..."

Gibson turned a pale shade of green and bowed his head.  John
noticed.  He gave the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze then
said, "Spinal problems too?"

"Ahhhhhh that was your child," the man said.  "He's the only one
like that, if that puts your mind at rest."

"Yes, it does," John said, now rubbing Gibson's shoulders.

"What are this baby's chances?" Gibson asked.  The baby he'd
helped was now playing happily in the sandbox, oblivious to the
watchful eyes of the hospital staff.  "Can he stay like us after
the cancer's gone?"

The man offered no answer, but just looked wistfully toward the
playground.

"He's gonna die, isn't he?" John asked.

"Most likely," the man answered.  "We haven't saved one yet."

"That part of the brain, where we're special," Gibson said.  "You
can turn it on to make people like us but you can't turn it off,
is that right?"

The man nodded.  "Even normal people use it a little bit."

"For what?" John asked, though he was beginning to feel out of
his league.

Gibson and the man looked at each other with uncanny
understanding, then Gibson said, "That part of the brain reaches
out to other people, it doesn't just listen.  When you turn it
off you're dead inside."

"Best-case scenario, autism," the man offered.  "It's my
specialty.  It's how we can justify working on these kids pro
bono."

"Worst case scenario?" John asked.  "Death?"

"Worst case scenario, the brain receives messages but doesn't
send them out."  The man gave John a significant look, but John
shook his head in confusion.

"Worst case scenario," Gibson offered.  "Super soldier."

"Like that but without the strength, only the lack of will," the
man explained.  "Worst case scenario, a race of slaves."

*******************

"So you don't *want* to save them," Gibson accused.

"Think what it would mean if someone found out!  They wouldn't
just do it to just a few kids, they'd do it to everybody," the
man said in hushed tones.

"Wait a minute."  John's eyes had formed into thoughtful slits
and lines had etched themselves onto  his forehead.  "Who are
*they?*"

"The people who gave us this part of the brain in the first
place?" Gibson offered.

"The source of the 'junk DNA' that is credited with this
phenomenon," the man said.  "Alien DNA."

"First discovered by Agent Scully when she ran tests on me,"
Gibson said.

The man seemed distracted suddenly, as if hearing a voice calling
him.  "Gotta go," he said, then dashed to the sandbox.  He
arrived just as the baby started to seize again.

John and Gibson watched the crowd re-forming around the child,
then turned back to the entrance.

When they returned to William's room they found Dr. Gomez and
Monica, heads bent, deep in quite conversation.

"How is he?" John asked, worried by the secretiveness of his wife
and "their" baby's doctor.

"He's going to be okay," Monica said, grinning at John and Gibson
in turn.

"He's a special boy," Dr. Gomez assured them.  "I expect a full
recovery."

John went to William's side then stroked his cheek.  "Hear that,
little fella?  Everything's going to be okay?"  He turned toward
Gibson.  "C'mon, Gibson.  Take a look."

Gibson shuffled toward the bed.  "He looks so little," he said.

John grabbed Gibson's arm then forced his hand onto William's
scalp.  "William, your big brother is here," John whispered.

William opened his eyes and looked into Gibson's face.  Gibson
broke into a big grin.  "Yes, he's going to be fine," he said to
John.  "He's still himself."


*********************************

It was Gibson's idea to take turns watching over William while he
was in ICU.  His own experience of being abducted from a hospital
room *after* being treated had taught him never to let his guard
down.  So they took overlapping twelve-hour shifts that allowed
one of them to watch the hall while the other stayed in the room,
and the third took a nap.  By the time William could go back to
the family quarters, all three of his protectors were exhausted.

A week after surgery, William's body cast came off and the X-Rays
showed remarkable healing, just as Dr. Gomez had predicted.  Dr.
Liz determined that feeling and function would come back to his
legs and feet, but he would still need the physical and hydro-
therapy of her original plan.  By the two-week anniversary of his
surgery, William's pain had abated and they could begin his
therapy.

And by the third week, John realized that he and Monica had gone
for almost a month without having sex.  A record for them.

It was one of those ordinary, domestic, moments that had become
so routine for them.  Monica was changing William's diaper, and
she dropped the baby powder.  As she bent forward to pick it up,
John felt a powerful urge to grab her from behind and ravage her
to within an inch of her life.  But the urge would have gone
unnoticed, just another welling-up of unmet needs in a long
series of such moments lately, if Gibson hadn't snorted.  John
looked at him in confusion at first.  Sexual frustration had been
a way of life for him for so many years, that slipping back into
it came naturally.  But then Gibson winked and said, "You two
need some time alone.  I'll take William to the playground."

John blushed, realizing that Gibson had overheard his animalistic
thoughts, but at the same time he was grateful to the boy for his
understanding.

Monica turned around, sensing dual impishness from behind her,
then looked back at William.  "I don't know, Gibson... he's not
ready for..."

"I'll keep him in the stroller," Gibson assured her.  "He needs
some sunshine, and so do I."

Monica looked to John for support, but saw only a gleam in his
eye and a crooked grin on his lips.  She'd almost forgotten that
look, she realized.  She'd been so wrapped up in William.  And
now that the look had reached her mind, it took hold and refused
to leave.

Before she could answer, Gibson approached the changing table and
reached for William, who reached for him.  "We'll be back in an
hour," he said.

When Gibson and William had left, John closed the distance
between himself and his wife, then put his arms around her waist.
"Well hello there, Mrs. Doggett," he said.  "Long time no see..."

"John, I'm sorry..." Monica started, but he silenced her with a
kiss.

"No apologies," he said when they came up for air.  "Never
apologize for doing what's right."

She thought for a moment.  Yes, she always tried to do what was
right, as did John.  People who didn't know them might think they
were a mismatch, but in this they were perfectly suited to each
other.  Being in the arms of someone of unquestionable morals and
courage was the biggest turn-on she'd ever experienced.  Bigger
than being with suave, sophisticated, and experienced Brad
Follmer.  "I love you," she whispered.  "Thank you for
understanding."

"You don't have to thank me, either," he whispered as he buried
his face in the hair behind her ear.

"Oh, but I do," she said, rubbing her hands sensuously over his
back.  "I never want to take you for granted."

"No, don't do that," he growled.  He could feel himself losing
control with every breath, as her scent permeated his
consciousness.  "Don't let me do that, either."

"It's up to me?" she laughed.  He began kissing one side of her
neck, making a line downward to her collarbone, where she laughed
again.  "That tickles!"

"Good," he said.

He kissed his way to her neckline, then buried his head between
her breasts as his hands went under her blouse and lifted it over
her head.  He undid the hook over her heart then let her bra flap
to the sides as he kneaded each breast, breathing heavily as he
trailed kisses back upward to the other side of her neck.  By the
time his mouth returned to hers, she was breathing heavily too,
and she began grinding herself into him.  "John..." she
whispered.  "John, John, John...."

They tugged on each others' clothes as they moved to their bed,
keeping their kiss going the whole time, then clumsily finished
the job and threw the rest of their clothes on the floor.  John
ran a hand over Monica's naked body as if discovering it for the
first time.  She shivered under his gentle touch but made no
attempt to stop him.  He pulled himself off of her, then watched
his hand as it continued exploring her curves.  "You're so
beautiful.  Have I told you that?"

"Once or twice," she whispered.  She knew he expected flirtatious
banter, but she just couldn't.  She wanted him so much...

"I'm so lucky," he whispered, moving to begin his trail of kisses
again.  This time he went lower, lingering over every part of her
body that twitched under his touch, until he came to the curly
hairs of her center.  She opened her legs to invite him further,
and he accepted the invitation eagerly.  He pulled her toward the
end of the bed, then knelt on the floor, letting her legs wrap
around his neck.  He wrapped his arms wrapped her hips then began
licking the outer rim of her center, while his tongue darted over
her growing nub at unexpected intervals.  When her breathing
sounded more frustrated than excited, he used one hand to part
her labia then formed his tongue into a hard, tiny penis, rubbing
it over her nub and increasing the pressure until it seemed he
had no choice but to insert it.  She was hot, wet, and writhing,
and he considered going for broke at this point, but he knew from
experience bringing her over the brink wouldn't signal the end
for them.  One hand engulfed her nub, rhythmically stroking and
pinching it in a carefully paced crescendo as his tongue pounded
into her until he brought her to a screaming climax that
threatened to suffocate him.

Satisfied that *she* was satisfied, he climbed onto the bed and
tried pulling her upward as he tried to position himself.  "No,"
she whispered, still catching her breath.  At first he was
confused, then her hand on his erection told him what she'd
planned.  Staying where she was, and still recovering, she teased
him until he groaned in protest.  She got onto her shaky knees,
hovering over him until he groaned again.  She walked herself
downward, letting her breasts make a goose bumpy trail down his
chest until she could take him into her mouth.  He was bigger
than ever, she thought, and briefly considered periodically
depriving him just to have this massiveness again, but when it
jumped in her mouth she dashed that thought.  Using her tongue to
stroke the sensitive underside while gently kneading his balls,
she managed to deep throat him, something she never thought she
could do.  His hands moved in mindless circles through her hair
an his body began humping against her mouth.  This wasn't their
usual routine, but if it was what he wanted, she thought...  She
continued working his balls and shaft until a torrent of his seed
shot down her throat.  She swallowed, which milked him even more
and caused him to utter an earth-shattering groan.  When she
needed to catch a breath she pulled away, then felt his hands at
her shoulders urging her upward.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "I couldn't help myself."

"Never apologize for doing what's right," she reminded him.

He grinned.  "I had other plans, you know."

"Yeah? Like what?" she asked playfully.

He pulled her close to him, then said, "You're amazing.  You
amaze me every time."

"I have great inspiration," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"How long until Gibson gets back?" he winked.

She drew her knee up over his legs, coming to rest on the part
that would implement John's original plan.  "We have time," she
sighed, rubbing her knee gently over him.

"Good," he said.  "It's been so long..."

"I know," she sighed again.

But instead of implementing John's original plan, they fell
asleep in each other's arms.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A few days later Doctor Liz gave William the all-clear to go
"home," with the provision that his therapy continue, and Doctor
Gomez stopped by as they were packing.

"I wanted to say good-bye to my favorite family," he said,
smiling.  He was dressed in civilian clothes, with a laptop case
slung over his shoulder.  "And give you this."  He held the case
by its strap, urging John to take it.

"What is it?" John asked suspiciously.

"Stay in touch," was all Gomez answered.  He kissed Monica on the
cheek, then bent to kiss William's forehead.

"We will," Gibson promised.

Gomez rubbed the top of Gibson's head until Gibson shook off his
hand.  "Take good care of your little brother," he said to
Gibson.  He stopped just before leaving the room, then said, "If
any of you ever needs anything, just call.  I'm always ready to
help."  Then, after checking the hallway, Gomez left.

"I wonder what he wants in return," John mused.

"Why do you think he wants anything?" Monica said, a little
defensively.

Gibson said, "He feels like we owe him a favor, but it's just a
Via thing."  He reached into the satchel and took out the laptop.
"We owe the Via a favor, but taking care of William, that's
payback so far."

John and Monica stood behind Gibson as he booted up the computer.
The screen showed the usual Windows background for an instant
then flashed to a letter.  Together they read:

My dearest daughter,

You have no idea how much joy it brought me to finally meet you
and to know that you are well.  I'm proud of you, and your mother
would be too.  She would also be happy for you in your fortunate
choice of a husband.  He's a good man, and your children give me
hope for the future.

I promise to help you and your wonderful family in any way that I
can, but for now I must keep my distance.  I've taken a
consulting job, and I'll be traveling quite a bit.  I hope to do
some good in this position, but I can't say more than that.  All
I can say is that I love you and I hope you will stay safe and be
happy.

Enjoy your honeymoon.  When you arrive, please send word to your
brother that you have arrived safely.

Love, Dad

*******************************

"What the--" John asked, but Monica's sniffles caught his
attention.  "Mon?"

"I was hoping to see him again," she said, trying to be brave.
"There's so much I wanted to say to him."

John wrapped an arm around her waist.  "You'll have other
chances," he assured her.

"Is he telling us not to go back to Frank's?" Gibson asked.
"Because Doctor Liz is supposed to give William a check-up in two
weeks."  He bent his head toward the screen, but unlike human
minds, the CPU refused to give up its secrets under his scrutiny.

John bent forward, keeping his arm around Monica.  "He's telling
us to go on our honeymoon.  But we didn't make any honeymoon
plans."

"Isla Mujeres," Monica whispered.  "He wants us to go to Isla
Mujeres."

"Mexico?" John asked.  "Why?"  He could feel Monica's shrug
against his arm.  "And how long does he expect us to stay there?"

"Frank's place must be safe, or else why would he tell you to
send word?" Gibson looked into their faces with a look of
confusion that neither had seen before in the know-it-all psychic
child.  "You don't know what this means, do you?"

John shook his head.  "Welcome to the wonderful world of high
technology, Gibson.  How does it feel not to know what someone's
thinking?"

"It stinks!" he announced.

Monica and John chuckled, then Monica put a hand on the boy's
shoulder and rubbed it.  "You'll get used to it."

The three smiled giddily at each other, then the computer beeped
and said "Incoming mail."

"Wireless!" Monica gasped.  She grabbed the computer, then
clicked on the flashing icon.  "It's a message from Lita,
Gibson."

Gibson grabbed the computer and turned it so his foster parents
couldn't see the message.  "She used the code," Gibson grunted.
"Dear ... family..."  he read.  "Fine... meet ... soon..."  He
looked down, his face reddening.

"Did she say the three magic words?" Monica asked.  John elbowed
her, but she ignored his physical scolding, then grinned and
said,  "Gibson?  Can I read it?"

"Sure," Gibson said, turning the computer to face her.  "There's
nothing personal in it."  He looked away, trying to control his
feelings for his own sake rather than theirs, then went back to
packing his things.

Monica read the message eagerly and silently, while John went to
Gibson's side.  "She's not going to put anything personal in an
e-mail," he whispered.  "It doesn't mean anything."

"I know," Gibson squeaked, not looking up from his sock drawer.

John patted his back then went back to packing his own socks.

******************************

They decided to stay at Frank's until after William's follow-up
visit with Doctor Liz.  Frank had prepared the pool for them,
installing a magnetite-laced privacy fence in front of it and
magnetite-laced child-safety fencing  around the perimeter.

On their first day back, Frank asked Monica if she could help
with the motel.  In contrast to their first stay there, almost
every room had been occupied the night before, and Frank seemed
exhausted from a recent increase in business.  While John put
William through his physical therapy, Monica helped Frank clean
the rooms, which had all been vacated early in the morning.

When they broke for lunch, Frank asked, "Something's up, isn't
it?"

"Up?" John repeated innocently.

"With the Via," Frank clarified.  "While you've been gone there
have been more and more people of the Via passing through."

"Someone's been destroying safe houses," Gibson answered, not
waiting for John or Monica to give him permission.  "They
destroyed the monastery, and before that some Anasazi ruins."

"And other places as well." Frank nodded and took a bite from his
burrito.

"We can't stay long," Monica said.

"Two weeks?" Frank asked, checking Gibson's face for
confirmation.

Gibson nodded.

"I hope that's not too long," Frank said grimly.

"Me too," Monica whispered.

After lunch, as Monica was putting on her bathing suit for
William's hydrotherapy, John grabbed her by the waist and pulled
her close.  "You're too sexy to be a hydro therapist," he
growled.  "I think you should be my sex therapist."

She giggled then pushed him away.  "All in good time," she said.
"William's come too far for us to slack off now."

"True," he agreed.  "This morning he was amazing.  He's way ahead
of schedule."

"I wonder if his brain is super too," Monica said idly, as she
combed back her hair and put it in a ponytail.

"I've wondered that too," John said.  "Sometimes I think he's
reading my mind."

Monica stopped, her hands still on her ponytail.  "Me too."

In the pool, Monica tried thinking at William, but he didn't seem
to respond.  His therapy was rather painful, she reminded
herself.  Maybe this isn't the best time to test him.  And when
she opened herself to psychic messages from him all she *heard*
were the thoughts of the man looking on from the pool side deck.
More than once she blushed, looking down at the nipples that were
straining against her bathing suit.  She couldn't help it if the
water was cold, she thought-yelled at John.  When she glanced at
Gibson, she saw him reading through the pool maintenance manual
to one side.  She hoped it was fascinating reading -- he seemed
engrossed -- but she suspected John's thoughts about her nipples
were intruding into psychics' minds for miles.

After therapy was over, Monica laid out a few folded towels under
a pool side umbrella, then laid William down for his nap.  As she
stood up she felt strong arms capture her around the waist,
tickling and surprising her.

Johns lips brushed her neck, then he whispered close to her ear,
"How about a little sex therapy now?"

She giggled.  "But what about William?"  She looked over at
Gibson, who was concentrating on the last chapter of the pool
instruction manual.  "We should watch William," she repeated,
though John was starting to tickle her.

"You two have fun," Frank's voice interrupted them.  "Gibson and
I can keep an eye on him."

"Yes, please!" Gibson grunted, still looking at his book.  "Leave
us in peace!"

Frank picked up a bucket of pool chemicals then stood looking
over Gibson's shoulder.  "Want a job, Gibson?  There's plenty to
do."

Gibson looked up at the tall man then glanced at John and Monica.
"Yeah, I need something to keep my mind off things."

"Go on, you two,"  Frank urged. "We'll be fine here."

John and Monica ran hand-in-hand to their room, feeling very much
the honeymooning couple they were.  It took a moment for their
eyes to adjust to the darkness of the motel room, but they didn't
need to see to find their way past each others' clothes to the
hungry flesh beneath.  Monica sighed deeply as John caressed her
curves.  She didn't even realize what worrying about William had
done to her until the worries were over.  And now, with the love
of her life returning her feelings, all was right with the world
again.

******************

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

They fell into a daily routine organized around William's therapy
and his naps.  John was in charge of mornings, putting William
through his paces then putting Gibson through his while William
was napping and Monica helped Frank by cleaning the motel's guest
rooms.  In the afternoons Monica took William to the pool for his
therapy, and Gibson became the pool boy, taking care of
maintenance and developing a tan.

The motel was busy with almost every room occupied most nights.
Monica suspected they were people of the Via, but they checked in
late at night and were gone by the time she cleaned their rooms
in the morning.  Frank never said anything about his guests to
her, or to anyone else as far as she could tell.  On the day
before their appointment with Doctor Liz, Frank joined her for
William's hydrotherapy, then when Gibson arrived to clean the
pool, he said, "Don't bother cleaning, today, Gibson.  I want to
spend some time with my sister."

"C'mon, Gibson." John clapped him on the back and grinned.  "Time
for us guys to do some target practice."

When they were alone, Frank looked longingly into Monica's face.
"You'll be leaving soon," he said.  "And you can't come back."

"Why?" Monica asked, feeling his grief before feeling her own.

"Trust me on this."  He took her hand then said, "But we'll see
each other again, I hope.  And father, he won't forget you
either."

Monica found herself sniffling with nothing to wipe her nose.
Frank handed her the bandanna from around his neck.  She took a
few tentative swipes at her nose then wadded up the cloth in her
hand.  "Thank you," she said.  "I won't forget either of you."

"If you ever need me, just send a message, through the Via," he
said.  When a cloud of worry passed over her face, he added, "I
just want to be sure you know that you can reach me.  Anytime."

"Thank you."  Monica found herself studying his face as if she
might not ever see it again.  "Something's up, isn't it?"

"Don't ask me, Monica," he said, looking down. "I don't know.  I
just know things are... insecure for us right now.  All of us."

She sighed, knowing she shouldn't have asked him for information
she knew he wouldn't have.  But his answer was an answer
nonetheless. "So why did you want to talk to me alone?" she
asked.

He smiled wistfully.  "Just in case.  I want to know all about
you, and I want you to have a chance to ask me anything.... well,
almost anything."

Monica put a hand on his arm.  "There's so much I want to know,"
she said.  "I wish I could have asked Dad."

"I know," Frank said, putting a hand on her arm.

"Of course you do," Monica blushed.  "And if there's anything you
want to know about me... That you haven't already *read* that
is..."

Frank laughed.  "A few things, yes."

They sat at the pool side table for the next few hours, sipping
soda and catching up.


******************************

"Know why we're out here?" John asked Gibson as they surveyed the
desert scenery.

"Yeah, target practice," Gibson answered, rolling his eyes.

John couldn't help smirking.  His friends had warned him that his
darling Luke would one day be so surly he'd wonder if another boy
had taken his place.  "This time I want you to shoot moving
targets.  Anything that moves, go ahead and shoot it."

Gibson gulped.  "Wouldn't that be killing?"

"Yes, it would."  John examined his own gun, then sighted over
the barrel, scanning the ground for targets.  When Gibson had
dutifully begun imitating him, John said, "Notice how many people
have been staying at the motel lately?"  He made a point of
keeping his eyes trained over his gun.  "Something's up, isn't
it?"

"Yeah, the Via... they're all from the Via, and they're scared,"
Gibson agreed, trying to hold his gun steady.

"The safehouses are still being destroyed, one by one, aren't
they?" John pulled off a shot, decapitating a cactus.

"Yeah," Gibson said, nervously scanning the ground for prey.

"And someone has access to the adoption agency's records, don't
they?"  John blew the arm off a different cactus.

"I think so," Gibson said, then took aim on a large cactus close
by.

"It's just a matter of time."  John stopped shooting and looked
into Gibson's frightened eyes.  "You have to be ready.  That's
why I brought you out here."

"Ready for what?"  Gibson looked like he didn't want an answer,
but John suspected it was because he already knew it.

"Ready for anything."  Something caught John's eye and he whirled
to one side as hi brought his gun to eye level.  He pulled the
trigger without stopping to take aim, and a pink spray erupted in
the brush.  "Tastes like chicken," John grinned.

"I couldn't..." Gibson gulped, but John ignored him.  Gibson
followed reluctantly as John took long strides toward his target.

"It's nature's way, Gibson," John said over his shoulder.  When
Gibson caught up to him they looked down on a very dead rabbit.
"Some have to die so that others can live."

"Yeah, I know, but..." Gibson protested.

"You and William, you're the others.  Okay?"

Gibson nodded, though the quiver of his lips betrayed more than a
little ambivalence.

"Good," John said.  "Now let's make a fire and have some lunch!"

******************************

Gibson surprised John by easily starting a fire then finding
edible plants in their environs.  "Where did you learn all this?"
he asked.

"That school for the deaf."  Gibson gnawed on a piece of cactus
as if it were his everyday fare.  "They made sure we all knew how
to survive in case anyone got lost.  Those kids wouldn't hear
people calling for them, or even helicopters.  They could be
within a few yards of a highway and not hear trucks passing by,
so..."

"I get it," John said.  He tried to enjoy his piece of cactus but
vegetables were never his thing.  Rabbit was much more to his
taste.

When they were finished, they put out the fire and started back.
"Not a word to Monica," John warned as they approached the motel.

Gibson sighed.  "I don't like keeping secrets from her."

"Me neither," John said, feeling a little sheepish.  "But I don't
want to worry her."

"Wouldn't she be less worried if she knew I could make a fire and
find edible plants in the desert?" Gibson pointed out.  "It made
you less worried."

John pursed his lips as he thought about Gibson's insight.
"You're right, Gibson.  Sometimes it scares me how right you
are."

Gibson snickered.  "You're not scared of me, just of your
feelings."

"Gibson," John warned.

"Right, right... some things I should keep to myself," Gibson
said.  "I get on everybody's nerves when I do that."

John smiled benignly.  "But I'm getting used to it."

When they returned to the motel, they found Frank and Monica
laughing together like siblings sharing memories of good times
past.

"What's so funny?" John asked.

"I was just telling Frank about my senior prom," Monica said,
still chuckling.  "It was something of a disaster.

"The push-up bra incident?"  John asked.

"Yeah," Frank said.  "She seems to be over the humiliation now."

"What incident?" Gibson asked.  All three adults sent up blocks,
keeping Gibson from their minds' eyes.  "Hey, no fair!"

"Some things aren't for prying minds, Gibson," Frank winked.
Maybe when you turn eighteen she'll tell you."

Gibson looked to the three for some sign they'd give in, but they
all seemed resolute.  "You won't tell me?"

"Nope," Monica laughed.  "Maybe some other time."

Gibson's face looked desolate for an instant, until it assumed an
adolescent scowl.  "Never mind.  I don't really care anyhow."  He
stormed off to his room, never looking back.

"Awwww maybe we should tell him," Monica said as Gibson slammed
his door.

"No, it's okay," John smiled.  "It's good to see him acting
so..."

"Normal," Monica finished.  "Less like an abused child and more
like a loved one.  Kids don't get angry with people that might
leave them."

"Yeah," John agreed.  "He knows we love him."

******************************

After dinner, John played games with William, games that
reinforced his physical therapy drills.  "I think he's getting
stronger," he announced, pulling on his legs one at a time in
imitation of walking movements.  "He's really coming along!"

Monica looked at Gibson, who seemed to be feeling sympathetic
pain with William.  "C'mon, Gibson.  Let's go for a walk," she
suggested.

Once outside, she asked, "We don't spend much time together
lately."

"True," Gibson agreed.

"Did you and John have a good time in the desert?"

Gibson shrugged.  "Shooting practice."

"That's good."  Monica reached out to pat Gibson on the shoulder.
"Are you getting better?"

He shrugged again.  "I guess so."

When they had gone a little distance from the motel, Monica
stopped and looked into Gibson's eyes.  "Gibson, I want you to
promise me something.  But if you can't, I want you to know
that's okay."

"Anything," he said.

He looked so eager to please that Monica almost lost her nerve,
but it was something that had been on her mind all day.  She
suspected he might already know, but she had to be sure.  "If
something happens to me, or to me and John... if for some reason
we can't take care of William..."

"I promise," Gibson said.  "I already promised William, anyway."

Monica smiled.  "You and William have been talking?"

"In a way," Gibson said.  "He's like me, but he doesn't really
have *thoughts* just feelings."

"He doesn't keep them very secret," Monica laughed.  "He's
actually very vocal about them!"

"He loves you like a mother," Gibson said.  "He doesn't want you
to leave him."

Monica gulped.  "He'll have to ask John about that."

"John will go along with whatever you want.  He loves William as
much as you do," Gibson said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, we both love him," Monica agreed.  "As much as we love
you."

Tears welled up in Gibson's eyes.  "I love you, too."

They hugged, a long, tender hug, until grey wolf started nudging
them toward the motel.  Monica reached for the wolf's neck and
ruffled the fur affectionately.  "What is it boy?"

"He just wants us to get back inside."  Gibson patted the wolf's
head.  "It's his job, I guess."

They obeyed grey wolf, and when they returned to the motel, they
found a group of strangers entering the room next door to theirs.
Gibson rushed up to one of them, hope in his eyes, then turned
away in despair.

"Who were those people, Gibson?"  Monica asked.  "Did you know
them?"

"I overheard them mentioning the monastery, but when I asked,
they said they didn't know about any of the nuns."  Gibson wiped
a tell-tale drip from his nose.  "They don't know where Lita is."

Monica wrapped an arm around his shoulders then hugged him to
her.  "She's okay.  I feel it," she said.  "And I think we'll
meet up with her again."

"I feel it too."  Gibson pulled away from the hug, but his eyes
held Monica's.  "I just want to know when."

Monica opened the door but paused before entering their rooms.
"There are some things none of us can know, Gibson.  Even you
have your limitations."

"Yeah, I guess," he said, his surly expression causing Monica to
grin.

Inside they found John on the floor, his legs spread wide, with
William standing uneasily, his hands gripping John's strong
fingers.

"Look, Mon!" John said excitedly.  "He's doing it!  He's
standing!"

Monica and Gibson fell to their knees, then grasped William from
opposite sides.  "YAY William!" Monica squealed.

William giggled at the sight of Monica's face, then started
falling backward.  They all caught him in their arms, letting him
down to the floor gently, as he continued giggling.  Monica
started tickling him, then the others joined in, until the were
all laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

"We need to get him settled, Monica," John said when everyone had
caught their breaths.  "We have a long drive in the morning."

Monica sighed.  "I almost forgot.  He hardly seems to need a
doctor."

"He does seem better," John agreed.  "But I won't be satisfied
until I see X-Rays.  I want to *know* that he's okay."

"You're good for us."  Monica smiled at John and covered his hand
with hers.

"If you two are going to start, I'm going to bed," Gibson
snorted.  "Want me to put William down?"

"Sure, Gibson," John said, gazing into Monica's eyes.  "I changed
him while you were out.  He's ready for bed."

After William and Gibson were in their room, John sat down and
started watching the evening news.  As she often had, Monica
stood behind him, massaging his shoulders.

"Tense?" she asked.

"Hmmmm not now," he murmured.

"What happens next?  After William gets the all-clear from Doctor
Liz?" Monica asked.

John shrugged in her hands.  "I wish I knew."  He reached for one
of her hands then pulled her down into his lap.  "But whatever
happens, we're prepared.  Gibson's prepared.  If anything happens
to me, he'll watch your back."

"Is that what you were doing in the desert?  Giving Gibson a
test?"

He smiled.  "You know me too well."

"So Gibson's your partner now?" she asked, keeping her back rigid
despite his attempt to pull her into a hug.

"I didn't mean ..." he protested, but she wouldn't hear it.

"I'm a federal agent, John.  I don't need a teenaged boy watching
my back!"  Monica stood and grabbed the remote, hitting the
"mute" button before putting her hands on her hips and
confronting him.  "I thought we were a team!"

Chided, John sat wide-legged and child-like in the seat as she
continued to vent.

"We're partners, John, even though we're ... well, whatever we're
doing we're still doing it as partners."  When he didn't respond,
she bit her lower lip then said, "Aren't we?"

He stood up and took her into his arms, but she pulled free,
staring into his eyes as if demanding an answer from them.  He
had to admit to himself that he *had* started thinking of Gibson
as a partner, and had changed his thinking about Monica.  All
those target practices he and Gibson had shared... he never once
thought of inviting Monica.  And as much as he hated to admit it
to himself, he dreaded admitting it to her even more.  But he
knew he had to.  "Things are different, now, Monica," he said,
sounding more patronizing than he'd meant to.  "Children change
everything."

"What's that got to do with it?" she demanded.

"We have William to consider.  He needs a mother more than I need
a partner..." John watched as Monica's eyes misted over in anger.
Barb used to do that, cry when she got angry.  And then he would
clam up, refusing to continue saying whatever had bothered her,
for her sake he believed.  But in hindsight he realized he should
have risked incurring her anger for the sake of their marriage.
It was the only way to resolve their differences.  Now he had a
second chance.  He would have to make Monica angry, and he hoped
he was doing the right thing this time.  "I don't want you
watching my back, Monica.  I want you taking care of him.  Gibson
signed on for this thing of his own free will, but a baby ... he
had no choice in this.  And even if we went back to the bureau,
we'll never be partners again, not in that sense."

"Well, until then I still consider you my partner, or I thought I
could."  She went to the window, pulled the drapes to one side,
then stared up at the stars.  "They're coming.  We have nine
years to get ready..."

"We'll be ready," John said.

"We?  Who are 'we,' John?  People of the Via?  Federal Agents?
Super Soldiers?  We're all fighting against each other.  How can
we be ready for anything?"

John came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
This time she relaxed into his embrace.  "We'll be ready," he
repeated, then kissed her cheek.

"Only if we work together," she sighed.  "All of us -- including
me."

Was it possible to emasculate a woman? John mused.  Monica was no
damsel-in-distress and never had been.  Yet he couldn't shake the
desire to protect her, to be her knight in shining armor.  "Do
you want to go back?"

She shook her head.  "Not until William's completely well, and
Gibson..." She stopped suddenly then sighed and rested her head
on his shoulder.  "You're right," she said dreamily.  "Children
change everything.  Including me."

"And you're right."  He kissed her again, this time on the lips.
"We're still partners."  She turned around in his arms and looked
into his eyes.  "But promise me, that if you have to choose
between me and them, you'll choose them."

Monica was taken aback by his request but as she thought about it
she realized she'd already come to a decision.  "I will," she
promised.

"I will too," he said gravely, reluctant to envision that moment
when he would have to betray her.  "But I hope it doesn't come to
that.  I can't imagine life without you."

"I love you too," she whispered.

That night they made love slowly, luxuriating in each others'
bodies as if it were both the first and last time they would
touch each other.