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


*************************
CHAPTER NINETEEN

At Frank's urging, they packed all of their belongings into the
SUV before setting out for the hospital.  They knew Doctor Liz
wouldn't be keeping William there, but Frank was worried they
wouldn't be able to come back.  And they were too.

After strapping William into his car seat, Monica hugged her
brother tightly.  "I'm so glad we've met," she said bravely.

"Me too," he said, studying her face.  "You'll be back tonight, I
hope, but in case you aren't..."  He pressed something metallic
into her hand.  "I want you to have this.

"Frank," Monica said, but realized he was right.  She might not
come back here.  She looked into her hand and saw a medallion on
a long gold chain.  On one side was a beautifully etched rose, on
the other a pyramid.  On both sides there was a series of symbols
that might have been glyphs. "It's beautiful.  What is it?"

He shrugged.  "Mother gave it to Father to give to you.  I was
hoping he'd do it himself..."

Tears came to Monica's eyes at the mention of her natural
parents.   "I wish he had too."

"I have one too.  Father doesn't know what the symbols mean, but
he thinks Mother gave them to us for a reason."  He shrugged,
then pulled his medallion from under his shirt.  "They're
identical, but they look factory-made."

"I'll treasure it forever," Monica said.  "I don't care what the
symbols mean.  To me they mean family."  She kissed Frank on his
cheek then turned back toward the SUV.

As they drove out of the motel parking lot, Monica watched Frank
grow smaller in the rearview mirror, but she took heart in the
words written under his image: "Caution:  Images in the Mirror
are Closer than they appear."

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

As they expected, Doctor Liz was amazed with William's progress.
He was still months behind in his development, but she predicted
he would catch up quickly.  When the appointment was over, they
went to the playground to give William a rare chance to interact
with other children, but he needed help to navigate the sandbox.
Fortunately, John loved playing almost as much as William did.

Monica and Gibson looked on, enjoying the show as much as the
participants.

"Monica?" a voice sounded from behind her.

"Anna!" Monica exclaimed.  She turned to see her friend,
clutching a teddy bear and carrying a small suitcase.  "Where's
your...?"

The tears in Anna's eyes answered Monica's question, and she went
to her friend in an instant, hugging her tightly.  "Lo siento,
amiga!"  Monica cried.  "Cuando?"

"Ayer," Anna said through her sobs.

"Yesterday?" Monica repeated.  "I'm so, so sorry..."

Anna pulled away and looked over Monica's shoulder.  "Tu
hijo...?"

"Si, mi hijo," Monica replied, following Anna's glance toward
William.  "Es mejor.... He's better."

Anna smiled wistfully then walked toward William, holding out the
teddy bear.  William let go of John's hand, which had been
holding him up to stand, and fell onto his little butt when he
reached for the teddy bear.  But he didn't cry.  He looked into
Anna's eyes with uncanny understanding, and Anna smiled back at
him.  She glanced briefly over her shoulder, smiling at Monica
now, and then gave William a gentle kiss on the top of his head.
"Buena suerte, nino," she whispered.  She stood and turned her
attention to a man walking toward her.  When he came to the
sandbox, he took her hand, then she buried her face in his shirt
and sobbed.

The other parents looked away, including John, until the grieving
couple had recovered their composure.  Then Monica went to them
and said, "El Doctor Gomez?"

"No esta aqui... He not here... He go Mexico," Anna's husband
said.

Monica felt a chill a the thought that Gomez had abandoned his
Via duties.  What could be so urgent in Mexico? she wondered.

After Anna and her husband had left, Gibson said, "Something's
different here."

"What?" Monica asked, only half-attending to her foster son's
words.

"You don't sense it?  How quiet it is here?"  Gibson tugged at
her sleeve for emphasis.

Monica shook her head.  "Quiet?  It's a hospital.  It's supposed
to be..."

Gibson let out an exasperated sigh.  "Not that kind of quiet.
It's moved.  The Via.  They're all gone.  Doctors, interns,
patients... We're the last ones."

Now that he mentioned it, Monica realized she did sense a
difference here, an inner stillness that she'd attributed to less
worry over William.  "John!" she called out.

John left William sitting in front of a pile of sand, happily
banging a plastic shovel backwards against it.  "What's wrong?"

"I think we should get out of here," she said.  "Now."

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

They drove at the speed limit all the way, then saw what they'd
dreaded.  At first they just saw a wisp of smoke poking over a
mountain, but as they drove on they could see a dull orange glow,
and by the time they got to Pete's gas station, it was obvious
that their haven was at the center of a huge forest fire.

"You'd best be going the other way," Pete advised them.  "I'm
closing up in a few minutes and the whole town's been evacuated."

"How did this start?" John asked.  He was still sitting in the
SUV, but left it in 'park' despite Pete's warning.

"Damnedest thing!  Army helicopter, one of those Apaches I
think... the kind they keep having trouble with overseas," Pete
guessed.  "Started sputtering over there."  He pointed to an area
just East of the motel, then trailed his finger over an imaginary
point in the sky until pointing in the direction of Frank's
motel.  "Then fire started shooting out of it, and it crashed
right on top of that motel!"

"Anybody hurt?" John asked, trying to seem surprised that the
motel was at the center of things.

"Dunno," Pete said.  "I was afraid you-all were in there, but
then I remembered seeing you drive off this morning.  That was
sure a lucky break!"

"Sure was," John agreed.  "Mind if we stay here awhile, see if we
can be any help?  We got to know the manager, and well..."

"Frank?  I saw his wolf running down the road, so he can't be too
far off."  Pete wiped his brow with his bandanna, then leaned
down to check on the SUV's other occupants.  "Need to use the
ladies' ma'am?  Might be your last chance for awhile."

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

They waited in the SUV, and to Pete's surprise, the fire-fighting
helicopters handily extinguished the flames before they
threatened his station.  After a meal of crackers and soda, the
little family went to investigate their most recent home as soon
as the smoke had cleared.

The place was a total loss, as they'd expected, but they couldn't
find any victims.  "That's some comfort," Monica said.  She was
saying it more to herself than to John, but he put his arm around
her shoulders and said, "Yeah, it is."

They started walking toward the manager's office.  "Funny how
they keep missing us," John pointed out.

"You think that's by design?"  Monica wrapped an arm around his
waist, grabbing at his shirt on the other side then squeezing it
in a subconscious bid for comfort.

"Think about it Monica."  He rubbed her shoulder, pulling her
closer to him with every step they took.  "There's some method to
this."

"But it's happening all over," she said.

"Exactly.  They want us to move to the next safehouse, or maybe
they're doing that with all of us.  So they know where it is," he
suggested.  "And then there's this common destination... We're
being herded like sheep, and our retreats are all being cut off,
one by one."

Despite the heat emanating from the embers of the motel, Monica
shivered.  "Then what? They take us out one by one?"

John shrugged.  "I dunno, but they have some plan..."

"Or maybe we're the bait," she suggested.  "Maybe they're trying
to lure the aliens, and hope to take *them* out..."

"That's a stretch, Monica," John scolded.  They were now at the
motel's office, where the roof had caved in.  The helicopter had
come down right on top of it, its rotors ripping the beams into a
swirl of debris that tangled itself in a heap.

John looked backward, seeing Gibson run for the pool.  "Gibson!"
he called out.  "Don't leave William...!"  He dashed toward the
SUV, then pulled William out and trotted to the pool with William
in his arms.  "Gibson... what are you...?"

But Gibson had jumped into the steaming water, dived to the
bottom, and come up with a gold object strung on a long chain.
He seemed unperturbed by John's anger.  "Look!"  He jumped out,
red-faced but triumphant.

Monica caught up to them and pulled her medallion from her neck
for comparison.  They were identical.  "Do you sense anything
from it?  Is it Frank's?"

Gibson rolled his eyes.  "You've seen too many fake psychics!"

"So what does this mean?  Who's is it?"  Monica asked.

"It doesn't mean anything, Monica," John snorted.

Gibson shot John a punishing glance that took both John and
Monica by surprise.  "I think Frank put it there for me to find.
Maybe he's trying to tell us where to go."

"Where?  To Egypt?" John said sarcastically.

"John," Monica scolded. "Don't take that tone with Gibson!  He
may be right.  There are ancient pyramids all around the world.
Including some in the Yucatan."

"Yeah, one of the most famous is near..." Gibson started to say,
but John figured out where he was going.

"Isla Mujeres," John said resignedly.

Gibson and Monica nodded.

"But Follmer warned us..." John protested.

Monica interrupted him.  "Who do you trust more?  My brother? Or
Brad?"

"She has a point."  Gibson reached for William, and John lowered
the baby into his arms.  "Frank is part of the Via.  Follmer's
part of..."

"Hey, we're part of it too!" John interjected.  "At least we
were!"

"But if safe houses in the United States are all being destroyed,
that leaves us with two choices.  Leave the Via and go back to
D.C." Monica said.

Gibson finished her thought.  "Or leave the country and stay with
the Via."

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

"All those people who stayed here for just a night?" Gibson
added.  "That's where they were headed.  I only caught the
impression a few times, but I think they all were headed South."

"John, we need to get to the bottom of this."  Monica gazed at
him defiantly.  "If we don't go to Isla Mujeres, we won't know
why it's a gathering place, or why people are gathering there
now."

"I'm not sure I want to find out."  John hugged William closer to
himself instinctively.

"And if we don't go there, where do we go?  Just make up new
identities and settle down?"  Monica half-wished he would say
"yes" but she wanted to track down the Via, not to mention her
brother.

"And what about William?" Gibson asked.  "And me?"

Monica sighed.  "That's another thing.  We don't have any legal
right to either of them."

"We're not supposed to adopt them," John suggested.  "Otherwise
we'd have adoption papers instead of fake passports."

"They've never forced us to do anything.  It's all been our
choice," Monica pointed out.  "Maybe they want us to *decide* to
adopt them..."

"Or maybe they've found a family to place him with, and they want
us to deliver him to them," John pointed out.  "Maybe that's what
we'll find at Isla Mujeres."

Monica took a deep breath and gulped.  "That could be why, but I
don't think so."

"And if it is, would you be willing to go along with their plans
for him?"  John gave her a moment to think it over then asked,
"Would you be willing to let someone else adopt him?"

"He's not a stray puppy, John," she snapped.

"I know, but consider what we're offering him.  Life on the run?
We're jobless, homeless fugitives. That's no life for him," John
pointed out.

"We'll manage," she said, noting the way William clutched John's
neck.  "I don't think he minds."

John looked at William, and for the first time realized what this
child must feel for him.  It was more than the way William looked
back at him.  It was something John felt, something coming from
within William that he'd never felt before.  He blinked back
tears.  "We'll make the best of it," he said, more to William
than to Monica.

"And so far we've been safe with the Via," Monica pointed out.

"You're right," John said.  "Mexico it is, then."

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

After consulting their road maps and the map of magnetite on
Gibson's Gameboy, they set out for Mexico, keeping to the smaller
roads.  For the first leg of their trip, Gibson drove, while John
sat shotgun -- literally -- and Monica sat with William in the
back seat.

"Mama," she said over and over.  "Say 'mama,' William."  William
cooed in response to her pleas but seemed not to understand her.

After a half hour of watching for trouble, John relaxed and said,
"Looks like they've finished what they came to do.  They're not
following us."

"I knew they wouldn't," Monica said calmly.

"Maybe because they already know where we're going," John said a
little testily.

"We'll find out when we get there."  Monica kept her eyes on
William.  "Ma-Ma," she said slowly.

John turned in his seat.  "Mo-ni-ca, William.  Her name is
Mo-ni-ca."

Monica flashed him an annoyed glance.  "That's harder to say."

"Monica," John sighed.  "I don't mind that you're BS-ing me.
Just don't BS yourself."

She glared at him defiantly.  "I'm not.  I know he's not mine..."

"What if we get to Isla Mujeres and Dana and Mulder are there?"
he asked.  "Would you give him to them?"

"I hadn't thought of that."  She rubbed William's head
affectionately.

"No?  Well maybe you should."

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," she said, blinking
back tears.  "After all, wouldn't it be up to them too?"

"As long as you would consider it," he said.

"I'll do what's best for him, whatever that is."  She kissed the
top of William's head then rested her cheek on its silky hair.

"Man-ma," William said suddenly.

Monica pulled back to look at him.  "William!" she squealed.
"You did it!  You said mama!"

"Mama," he said again.

"Sounded more like Monica," John growled, then turned to face the
road.

Monica let the comment pass.  "That man.  He's da-da," she said.
"Da-da."

"Mama," William giggled.

By the time they reached the border, John was ready to puke, but
he was also proud of William for speaking.  The boy seemed a
little behind in too many things.

At the border crossing, he reached into the glove box and pulled
out their phony identification.  "Maybe Señor Flores should take
over the driving."

They all stretched, then switched seats, Monica taking the
shotgun position this time.  When the border patrol officer took
their IDs, he gave John a curious glance.  "You're Mexican?"

"My maiden name is Bishop," John answered.  "I took her name when
we married."

"Why?"  The officer leaned down and smiled at Monica as she waved
to him.

"I don't have any brothers, and my parents want their grandkids
to have their name," she explained, giving a nod to the children
in the back seat.

The officer followed her glance, and as if on cue, William
reached out for Monica and said, "Mama."

John breathed a sigh of relief.  "We're on our way there now."

"Well, have a good trip home," the man said, smiling at William.
"Bye-bye," he waved to the child with tiny hand movements.
William kicked his feet happily and smiled.

On the Mexican side, a border patrol officer tipped his hat and
waved to them, then when he caught Gibson's eye, he winked.

"He's one of us," Gibson reported.

"Yeah, I guessed," John grumbled.  "Ya know, this crossing was
just a little too easy."

Monica shrugged.  "It's a permeable border.  Brad was always
complaining about that."

"And just because we're over the border doesn't mean they can't
come after us.  The FBI has all sorts of authority under the
Patriot Act."  John kept his eye on the rearview mirror as he
spoke, looking both behind them at the road and upward into the
sky.

"I know that," Monica snapped.  "It's all the more reason we
should stay with the Via."

"*He* should stay with the Via," John corrected, glancing toward
William.

"And *we* should stay with him," Monica said.

They drove in angry silence for a few minutes until Gibson
pointed to a bank.  "Shouldn't we get some Mexican money?"

John and Monica exchanged glances, and John pulled to the parking
lot.  "Speaking of money, what if that's the way they're tracking
us?"

"We've hardly spent any money," Monica said.  "The Via has been
providing for..."

"We've bought gas.  Near the monastery.  At Pete's gas station.
On the way to the hospital..."

"You think the bank gave us marked bills before we left?"  Monica
pursed her lips and reached for the laptop computer.  "You're
starting to sound like Mulder!"

"Well?  It's possible," he said, scanning the area suspiciously.

"I'll send a message, see if it gets through..."  She booted up
the computer, and the screen read:  "Welcome to Mexico.  Check
the padding in your case."

"I love satellite!" Gibson said.  "I hope Lita has one too!"

Monica pulled the velcro tabs holding the lining of her laptop
case.  Inside was a wad of cash.  Mexican cash.  "I hope Lita has
some of this too!"  Monica counted out the cash, then announced
that it would be enough to live on for a few weeks.  "And look!
These are all old bills.  I bet they won't be traced."

"Isn't Isla Mujeres a resort?" John mused.  "It'll be expensive."

"Not off-season," Monica said, stuffing the money back into the
case.  "Besides, we can get jobs.  The Via likes to make us
work."

"I want to be a pool boy," Gibson announced.  "That was fun."

"There are some big hotels with pools.  Check the web and pick
one."  Monica handed the laptop to Gibson rested one shoulder
against her seat.  "I can be a housekeeper.  If Frank's there
already he'll give me a good recommendation."

John sighed then looked into Monica's eyes, which seemed a little
dreamy.  "You like this life, don't you?  Taking odd jobs, being
on the run?"

"Being with you," she said.  "And them."  She nodded toward the
back seat then nestled herself under John's shoulder and reached
for his hand.  "I love this life."  When he looked down he her
lips reached for his, then she smiled.  "I love this life because
I love you."

"Oh please!" Monica heard Gibson groan, but when she looked back
Gibson had his head bent over the computer.

"Gibson?" Monica asked.  "Did you say something?"

Gibson looked up, his face ashen.  "I'm sorry.  I tried to just
think it."

"I didn't hear anything," John said.  "What did you hear?"

"He said 'oh please' when I kissed you," Monica's brows knit in
confusion.  "Didn't you?"

Gibson gulped then glanced at John.  "No, but I thought it."

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

"You heard his thoughts?" John chuckled.  He gave Gibson a
crooked smirk, then said, "Party's over, my man.  Your mom reads
your mind!"

Gibson said nothing, but Monica plainly heard him say, "Just
great!"

"I swear my mother could read my mind," Monica said soothingly.
"But if you don't tell lies, it shouldn't be a problem."

Gibson rolled his eyes and Monica could feel him blocking her.
She turned back to John and they smirked, their eyes locking
until Gibson said, "Want me to drive so you two can keep staring
at each other?"  John cleared his throat, then Gibson added, "If
you're going to hear it anyway, I might as well say it out loud."

"That's okay, Gibson.  I'll drive," John said, putting the SUV in
gear.

They drove several miles in silence, until John said, "Are you
two talking behind my back?"

"Don't worry, John." Monica placed a hand over his. "We're not
talking about you."

"That's good to know," he said.  "I think."  He turned the
rearview mirror to look at Gibson, who grinned back at him.

"Honest, we're not!" Gibson promised.  "But if you want us to..."

"No, never mind."  John turned the mirror back to the road.
"Just keep talking about whatever you were talking about."  Then
he muttered to himself, "I wish William would talk now.  I could
use some company."

"Mama," William said suddenly, and the SUV erupted in laughter.

"Da-da," John corrected, and when Monica grinned, he said, "What?
It's better than being called Mama!"

Gibson took over the driving so John could work on William's
"da-da," and within a few hours, William had learned "Papa"
(Da-da just wouldn't work), "Ba-" for bear, "baba" for bottle,
and "Gaga" for Gibson.  He also said "ebba" repeatedly, though it
didn't seem to mean anything.  By sunset they'd nearly forgotten
they were on the run, and were laughing and talking like a
typical vacationing family with a babbling baby.

At sunset Monica sighed and said, "No signs of where to stay yet.
Maybe the computer has something."

They pulled to a stop, and while Monica surfed the web looking
for a place to stay, John diapered William and Gibson disappeared
behind a pile of rocks to take care of business.  When John was
finished he watched Monica's face as she scanned maps and clicked
on several sites.  She'd never seemed more beautiful, he thought.
Even though darkness was encroaching, she seemed to have a glow
of her own, and when she looked up, smiling with the realization
he was admiring her, it seemed to him that starlight was in her
eyes.

"You look damn good too, husband," she grinned.

"Yeah? Ya think?" he asked, as he often did when she reminded him
of her feelings.  Even though they'd been married a few months
now, it still surprised him that such a beautiful woman could
love his plain mug.  He pulled the visor down and looked into the
vanity mirror, then noticed he did indeed seem younger.  The tiny
crows' feet at the corners of his eyes seemed to have
disappeared, and his skin looked ten years younger.  "You're
right, I'm a stud!" he declared.

She shut the laptop.  "No room at the inns, and not many inns..."
Nuzzling his neck, she whispered, "Let's sleep here, under the
stars..."

"Camp out?" he asked.  "Aren't you afraid of tarantulas?" he
asked, only half-kidding.

"No," she hummed.  "Not when I'm with my knight-in-shining
armor."

He had to admit, he'd been feeling quite the hero for a few
hundred miles.  In fact, he was feeling downright giddy,
especially when he looked into Monica's eyes.  "Well, then,
whatever my damsel-in-distress wants, she shall have!"

"Oh good!" she said with childlike enthusiasm. "Let's tell
Gibson!"  She rushed from the SUV, calling Gibson's name.

Just as she was becoming concerned that he didn't answer, Gibson
appeared from behind the rocks and said, "This place is great!
Can we stay here?"

John took William out of his seat then approached the rocks.
"Whaddaya got there?"  He grabbed Monica's hand and they followed
Gibson as he excitedly described his discovery.

"Down there." Gibson pointed to a copse of trees.  "There's a
spring-fed stream, and when I followed it up-stream I found this
cave!  It's awesome!"

John looked over the area.  "If we parked the SUV over there," he
said, pointing to a clearing that was hidden from the road by the
rock outcropping.  "We'd be safe from prying eyes..."  He gave
Monica's hand a squeeze.  "Gibson and William could sleep in the
SUV, and we could spread out our sleeping bag next to it."

"What about this cave?" Monica asked.  "You didn't go in it
without permission, did you Gibson?"

Gibson glanced at John, who raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"No, and I didn't know I needed permission."

"For something potentially dangerous, yes you do," John said.  He
handed William to Monica then got down on his belly to peer into
the opening.  "I think before we settle in we should make sure
nothing's living in there."

After returning to the SUV for a flashlight, John crawled through
the opening until he found a large cavern.  To one side there was
a large pool, fed by the same spring as the creek, John surmised.
On the other lay a large rock shelf that wrapped most of the way
around the rear as well.  After checking above for bats and to
the sides for bears, John was satisfied the cave was safe, and
backed out.  "Looks okay," he announced.

Monica jiggled William in her arms, and William pointed to the
opening.  "Ebba," he said, giggling.

"I wish I knew what you were trying to say," Monica sighed.
"You're such a smart little thing..."

"Ebba!" William repeated.

"There's a rock shelf and a pool in there," John said.  "I
imagine the spring starts in there, and the creek flows from the
pool.  But there's no bats, no bears, no tarantulas, at least not
that I could see."

"Cool!" Gibson said.  "Can I go in?  I want to see how deep it
is!"  He broke off a creek side reed and started poking it into
the creek.  "This creek is only a few feet deep.  I wonder what
the pool is like!"

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

"Sure," John said.  "I'll just pull the SUV around..." When
Monica started to follow him he turned and said "It seems safe,
but just in case..."

"I'll keep watch," she agreed.  "But I can't imagine anything bad
happening here.  It feels like such a ..." She sighed and looked
around the area, which was bathed in a pinkish glow from the
setting sun.  "Holy is the only word I can think of.  It seems
holy somehow."

This time it was John whose thoughts said "Just great!"  How was
he going to ravish her in a holy place?  He thought back to their
first night at the monastery, when they slept in separate rooms,
dreaming of each other.  It seemed such a long time ago.  And
before that?  Those times seemed like an eternity.  He couldn't
believe he'd survived all those years waking up alone, not seeing
Monica's smile first thing in the morning.  When he pulled the
SUV to the clearing, the headlights glancing over her face and
William's gave both a glow that he had to admit seemed almost
holy.  They both seemed so radiant, he thought.  Almost like
those Renaissance paintings of the Madonna and Child he'd seen on
field trips at the Metropolitan.  But despite her maternal
radiance, or perhaps because of it, he lost all doubts about
being able to ravish her.

Gibson reappeared, his clothes dusty, his hair mussed, and his
face grinning with the pride of accomplishment. "The pool is no
deeper than five feet, and most of it is only about three.
There's a bunch of rocks at the bottom.  But I don't think there
are any fish.  I didn't hear any sounds but my own."

After they'd gotten everything arranged for the night, Gibson
made a fire then they cooked a meal of canned meat and pasta and
watched the stars come out.  "It's so beautiful out here," Monica
sighed.

"I learned about the stars from the Deaf School," Gibson said.
"That one's the North Star.  They told us if we were ever lost we
could use it to find our way back."

"That's good thinking, Gibson," Monica said.

Gibson snorted.  "Yeah, it was a regular scout camp there!"

"And the people staying with you in your that trailer?  What were
they like?" John asked.  After all their months together, he
should have known more about them, but somehow the topic rarely
came up.

Gibson shrugged.  "They were okay.  They were people of the Via,
but just hiding out, not contributing."

"Except to take care of you," Monica pointed out.  "The way we're
contributing by taking care of you and William."

"You were willing to do that before you knew about the Via,"
Gibson said simply, looking into Monica's face, which was bathed
in light from their campfire.  "It's why I wanted to stay with
you."

"As soon as we can use our own names again, we want to make it
official.  To adopt you."  John sat cross-legged with William in
his lap.  "If you'll have us."

Gibson grinned, his eyes sparkling in the light.  "I don't need a
piece of paper."

Monica pulled him into a sideways hug and kissed the top of his
head.  "We love you, Gibson.  We can't imagine life without you."
She held onto him tightly, and when he wrapped his arms around
her she began rocking him from side to side.

William squealed, clapped his hands, then wriggled free from
John's grip and crawled to Monica's other side.  She pulled him
to her side, then said through her tears, "I never thought I
could be so happy."

John sat by, feeling like a fifth wheel but also sensing the love
radiating from the group, until Monica motioned for him to join
the hug.  He knelt behind her, his arms encircling his little
family.  He wanted this feeling to last forever, but something
told him things would be changing for them.

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

After getting Gibson and William settled into the SUV for the
night, John wriggled into the sleeping bag where Monica waited
for him.  "Still awake?" he whispered.

"It's only been a few minutes!" she cooed.  "As long as I waited
for you to make the first move, a few minutes is like that!" she
added, snapping her fingers.

"Have I ever apologized for making you wait?" he asked.

"Over and over, but I never get tired of it."  She kissed him
tenderly, and when his arms instinctively encircled her she
deepened the kiss.

They'd changed into boxers and T-shirts in the SUV before putting
the kids to "bed," but John was amazed to find she'd kicked her
boxers off under cover of the sleeping bag.  "Did you have
something in mind, Mrs Doggett?" he growled as he moved his knee
up and down her bare leg.

"I sure did, Mr Doggett," she murmured.  Moving one hand over his
shirt, feeling his muscles strain against the cottony softness,
she hummed a tuneless melody that he had no trouble interpreting.

He let her pull off his shirt then his boxers, and within the
confines of the sleeping bag they brought each other to the brink
before Monica mounted John and began grinding against him in
slow, deliberate thrusts.  He teased her nipples between his
thumb and forefingers while she looked down at him with an
animalistic hunger.  Her back strained against the sleeping bag,
confining her motions and keeping their pace slower than it had
ever been.  John called out, "Oh god, oh god..." several times,
oblivious to the echo from the rock outcropping. Each time she
heard his voice Monica felt a shiver within her, sending her
closer to her own inevitable collapse until finally she arched
her back and let out a long groan that echoed for miles.  John
responded with his own "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," shooting his seed into
her for what seemed like an eternity.

Monica collapsed on top of him, leaving John gazing up at the
stars as he held his wife in his arms.  "I see why you wanted to
do this," he said when he'd regained his voice.

"Hmmmmm?" she asked, still recovering.

"The stars... they're beautiful."  He kissed her forehead when
she raised her face to look into his.  "Just like you."

She smiled, wondering if she would ever tire of his sweet words.
He wasn't a romantic man, which made moments like this even more
special to her.  "Let's not go to Isla Mujeres," she sighed.
"Let's just drive around, sleeping under the stars... singing
songs with the boys..."

"Hmmmmm" he hummed, then sang, "You and me and a dog named
Boo..."

"Huh?" she asked.

He sighed.  "I keep forgetting how young you are, or how old I
am, or something..."

"Old song?"  she laughed.  "If we get a dog we can name it Boo if
you want."

"It's a song about living off the land.  A seventies fantasy," he
rubbed his hands aimlessly over her back.  "Only instead of an
SUV it would have to be a VW bus, preferably with flowers painted
on it."

She rolled off him, but kept an arm across his chest.  "Sounds
groovy."

"Maybe it's knowing we're out of FBI jurisdiction, or maybe it's
just being alone with you... But I feel like I could do that
now," he grinned.  "I feel like I could do anything now."

She sighed.  "We'll never *really* be out of FBI jurisdiction
because of the Patriot Act.  It must be my influence."

"You're right.  You've been a good influence on me," he agreed.

She snuggled close to him and they lapsed into a comfortable
silence, watching the stars move slowly across the sky until they
both fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

They awoke to violent shaking and Gibson's voice shouting, "I
can't find William!"

"What?!?!" Monica jumped from the sleeping bag, forgetting that
she was naked.

"I went to check on William," Gibson said, also forgetting that
Monica was naked.  "He was in his car seat when I went to sleep
last night, and I'm sure I locked the doors," Gibson panted.
"And now he's not there... I was hoping he was here."

"He's not here."  John felt around the sleeping bag for their
clothes, and when he found Monica's he tossed them to her, and
she blushed when she realized what she'd done.

Gibson averted his eyes as his foster mother dressed, and
mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Within seconds Monica was dressed, and John was just finishing up
under cover of the sleeping bag.

"Now, what happened," John asked, putting his hands on the boy's
shoulders.

"The door was open... and ... I don't know... I never heard
anything.  I never *felt* anything..."

They ran to the SUV, then John asked, "Which door?"

Gibson pointed to the door nearest William's car seat, and John
got on his knees looking for tracks.  Monica got on her knees
too, and together they found something that startled them.  There
were tracks alright, but not what they'd expected.  Leading away
from the SUV were two sets of tracks:  one set a pair of tiny
hand-prints, the other an unusual pattern neither had seen
before.  "I think I know what this is," Monica said.

"Yep, he crawled away on his own," John answered.

They followed the tracks, which went directly toward the opening
of the cave.  When Gibson saw where they were headed, she rushed
forward, crying out "William!"

"Gibson!" John shouted.  "Do you sense him?  Do you sense
*anything?*" John demanded when he had caught up to him.

"No." Gibson started crying.  "I'm so sorry... I thought he was
safe..."

"We all did, Gibson," John reassured him.  Monica started
crawling into the cave, but John pulled her back.  "Let me.  I've
been in it before."

Even before developing her psychic connection with him she would
have known what his face was telling her.  He was afraid of the
worst, and wanted to spare her.  She didn't have the heart to
tell him that she'd been trying to spare him as well.

John grabbed his flashlight then dropped to his knees and began
crawling into the cave's opening.  To his surprise, there was
light at the end of the tunnel, and when he came to the cavern he
saw a dusty shaft of light shining down from an overhead opening.
Reflections from the pool danced on the ceiling, and beneath it
sat William, staring up at the reflections and pointing.

"William!" John scolded.  "Come here!"

William giggled then turned and crawled toward the pool.

"NO!"  John shouted, the reverberations of his own voice
deafening in the enclosed cavern.  He scrambled for the toddler,
catching up with him just as he approached the pool's edge.

"Ebba!"  William giggled.

John heard whooshing behind him and turned to see Monica crawling
from the tunnel.

"Mama!" William squealed.  He crawled toward her, laughing.

"William," she sighed.  She took him into her arms and kissed the
top of his head.  "Is this a game for you?  Chase the baby?" she
cooed.

John glanced from William to the water, then upward toward the
ceiling.  Something wasn't right about that light, but he
couldn't place it.  He shone his flashlight at different angles
to the water's surface, watching the changes in the reflections
on the ceiling.

Then he looked down.

"Monica... you gotta see this."

There, at the bottom of the pool, were dozens of skeletons, most
covered with many-colored crystals, making them look like
elegant, if macabre, jewelry.  After recovering from her initial
feelings of revulsion, Monica leaned forward slightly.  "These
must have been here for centuries."

"Ebba!"  William cried, pointing to the bones.

John got onto his stomach then reached down and pulled one bone
free.    "This looks like am arm bone." After shaking off the
water, he held it up for inspection against his flashlight,
casting small prisms of color against the cavern walls.

William giggled and pointed to the lights then reached for the
bone.  "You want a bone?" Monica laughed.  "No, William, I don't
think so!"

William started to cry, then pointed to the water.

"No, not one from their either," Monica said sternly.  He
struggled in her arms, trying to go toward the water.  "I said
NO!" Monica repeated.

"Monica..." John nodded toward the water.  "Is he doing that?"

Tiny ripples emanating from a central point disturbed the water
in rhythm with William's movements.  When William raised a hand
and started waving it, the ripples grew to tiny waves that lapped
against the sides of the pool.  He laughed at the sound, the echo
of his laughter mixing with the sounds of the waves.

Suddenly the reflections on the cavern walls turned into a
kaleidoscopic display over the whole place, as the waves parted
to reveal a single bejeweled globe rising from the pool just
under the shaft of natural light.  The globe floated noiselessly
over the waves until it came to William's outstretched arms.
William grasped it then giggled, its jeweled image rising and
falling with William's laughter.  "Ba!" he cried out.

Monica and John exchanged glances, then Monica said cautiously,
"William?  Can mama play with the ball too?"

William held it out for her, and she took it.  But she gasped
when she saw what it was.

Underneath the crystals was the perfect form of a not-quite-human
skull.

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

"Hello?" Gibson's voice cried out from the tunnel.  "Can I come
in?"

"C'mon in Gibson," John shouted.

Gibson crawled through the opening to the cavern, stopping when
he saw the scene in front of him.  "Whoa--" was all he could say.

"You didn't see any of this last night?" John shone his
flashlight into the water, letting the beam rest on a clump of
skulls.

"No, I thought it was rocks."  Gibson stood up, brushed off his
pants, then approached the water.  "This is incredible!"  John
couldn't help but be amused when Gibson fearlessly reached into
the water, broke off a bone, then examined it.  He turned it
under the light from the ceiling, then watched the walls as the
crystals cast prismatic designs over the walls.

Monica watched Gibson for a moment then turned her attention to
the skull.  The crystals covering it were all clear, but could
change color as the light hit them from different directions.
She remembered enough from her paleontology course at Brown to
know that it wasn't a human skull or a monkey's.  She bent over
it, studying it, oblivious to John's glance as he looked back and
forth between her and Gibson.

"How can you find that so fascinating?  You're like Scully!"
John snorted.

At the mention of her friend, Monica's face rose to face John's.
"She'd love to see this," she said solemnly.  "Let's take it with
us."

Gibson took it from Monica then said thoughtfully, "I think I
know what this place is.  It's in Lita's memories."

"Lita's been here?" John asked.  "How?"

"Not her, her ancestors."  Gibson studied the cavern, taking
special note of the opening in the ceiling and the pool below.
"They made sacrifices, to the gods, in places like this."

"Animals?  Are these monkeys?" John scratched his chin, then his
gaze followed the path Gibson's had taken.

Gibson shook his head.  "Human sacrifices."  He studied the skull
for a moment, and found himself talking to it apologetically.
"They weren't doing it because the gods wanted it.  They did it
because the gods did it."

"Aliens were the gods," Monica guessed.

"When they created the hybrids, they disposed of the ones that
didn't come out right.  The defective ones."  Still addressing
the skull in his hands, Gibson's voice softened.  "These were all
children."

Monica hugged William instinctively.  "Children?"  Her lips
quivered as she looked to John for moral support.

But John was lost in thought.  "Ya know... While Agent Scully was
pregnant, we had this case... Newborn babies disappearing.  Agent
Scully was convinced they were alien babies."  He glanced from
the misshapen skull in Gibson's hands to the too-perfect baby in
his wife's arms.  "I thought she was nuts at the time..."

"You think those babies were disposed of?"  Monica gasped.
"Defective?"

"But William wasn't disposed of," Gibson pointed out.  "They
tried to fix him."

"They tried to fix him *after* someone else had damaged him, in
their view anyway."  John crossed the short distance between him
and Monica then stroked William's soft hair.  "It always did seem
strange that those super soldiers left him alone when he was
born."

"And that spacecraft," Monica added.  "It left him behind."

"Because he came out right," John deduced.  "And they had plans
for him."

"Well, *I* have plans for him now," Monica said.  "He'll grow up
to be a happy, healthy, *normal* little boy with loving parents."

"Ebba!" William said, reaching for the skull in Gibson's hands.

"Ebba?" Monica looked at the skull.  "Does ebba mean toy?  Play?"

"Ebba!" William demanded.

The skull started shaking in Gibson's hands, and he started to
hand it to William.  But John took it instead.  "Sorry, William,"
he said sternly.  He looked wistfully into Monica's eyes.  "These
children may have been dead for thousands of years, but they
still deserve their dignity."

John put the skull next to the tunnel opening, then turned to see
William pointing toward the water.  The bone that Monica returned
to the water broke through the surface and leapt into William's
hand.  William put it into his mouth and giggled triumphantly.
John ran to the toddler and pulled the bone free.  "NO!" he
shouted, more angry than William had ever seen him.  More angry
than he'd seen anyone.

William started to cry, his wails so loud in the cavern that
Gibson had to cover his ears.

Monica took the bone back and gave it to William.  "He's just a
baby, John.  He doesn't understand."

Given William's unique abilities, John wasn't so sure.  "Okay,
but just until we get ready to leave."

"Do we have room to pack a complete skeleton?" Monica asked.
"Because it would be the kind of proof that Mulder was looking
for his whole life.  We owe it to him to bring him that proof.
Not just the skull.  The whole thing."

John struggled with conflicting emotions as he considered
Monica's request.  "I don't know Monica... the people of the Via
are the ones who made the sacrifices.  They're people like
William, the ones who weren't sacrificed to the gods."

"You think this evidence would put William in danger?" Monica
hadn't considered this possibility, but even if she had, she
would have disregarded it.

"Not William, us," John said.  "So far they've helped us.  If we
find evidence that makes them look bad..."

"They won't hurt us," Gibson said.  "We're all part of Via."

"Reluctantly in my case," John pointed out.

Monica shot him one of her skeptical glances.  "We won't be able
to hide our memories from them anyway.  How would having a
skeleton make things worse?"

Monica's defiant and confident expression gave John pause.  "So
we're already in danger?"

"Frank and the people at the hospital may have known that Gibson
knew, and he was safe there.  I think we're all safe among the
Via, regardless of what we learn about them."  Monica jiggled
William in her arms then looked at him affectionately.  "And
anyway, they're not the ones sacrificing defective hybrids to the
gods."

"No, just the ones with brain tumors."  John looked down at the
skeletons in the pool, thinking of all the children doomed to the
same fate.

"They couldn't help those children," Monica said.

"I think you two should let me spend some time alone gathering
souvenirs," Gibson offered.

"What?" John asked.

"Start packing up the SUV.  I'll join you later."  Gibson winked,
then put his hands in his pockets and tried to whistle
innocently.

Monica laughed.  "What we don't know can't hurt us, John."

John couldn't help smirking.  "We'll see you in a few, Gibson."

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Back on the road, Gibson grabbed the laptop.  After a few moments
he sighed, "No messages."

"Don't lose heart, Gibson," Monica said.  "Those e-mail accounts
were supposed to be used judiciously."

"You're a little disappointed too," Gibson countered.

"Yes, a little," she admitted.  "But it's too soon to be
discouraged.  After all, she might be there already, waiting for
us."

"Frank too." John reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Frank too," Monica said.

Gibson closed the laptop.  "I sure hope so."

As they neared their destination the terrain became more lush,
with exotic vegetation populated by colorful birds.  "It's all so
beautiful," Monica sighed.  "I've never been to this part of
Mexico, yet it feels like home."

John shifted in his seat.  "Doesn't feel like home to me."

Gibson looked up from his gameboy, which he'd just discovered
actually did have games on it.  "I feel it too."

"Home is where I had a job and a home and people who knew my real
name."  John glanced at Gibson in the rearview mirror.  "We're
running low on money."

"We should have detoured through Las Vegas," Monica chuckled.

"I'm too young for casinos," Gibson said, not taking his eyes
away from his game.

Monica ran her fingers through her hair, combing it out although
it wasn't tangled.  John looked over at her, annoyed by her
nonchalance yet at the same time somehow comforted.  "Won't this
island be expensive?  You said it was a resort."

She shrugged. "Not as expensive as Cancún."

"No matter how cheap it is..."

"You worry too much, John," she interrupted.  "We'll be fine.
We've always been fine."

He looked back to the road, grinding his teeth. It was a habit he
didn't remember having in D.C., and now it seemed he did it a
lot.  But he stopped when he felt the calming touch of his
soulmate as she put a hand on the back of his neck.  "We'll know
soon enough."

As they had the previous day, they followed rose symbols they
found along the road.  Gibson's map was now useless, as the
entire peninsula contained magnetite.  When they reached the
ferry to Isla Mujeres John woke up Gibson, who had been sleeping
for a few hours.

"Feel anything, Gibson?"

Gibson yawned.  "Feels good.  Feels like home."

"All Via people?" John scanned the dock, where several people
milled around waiting for the ferry.

"Some are, some aren't.  Those two are tourists."  Gibson nodded
to an overweight middle-aged couple wearing Bermuda shorts and
Hawaiian shirts.

John snorted.  "You needed ESP to tell me that?"

They parked the SUV and milled around themselves, looking as
touristy as they could.  Soon John broke out in a sweat.

John wiped his forehead on his sleeve.  "It's too hot.  I'll
never feel *at home* here."

Monica handed William to Gibson, then pulled on John's shirt.
"You lucky men can go shirtless when you get hot."  She helped
him off with the shirt then kissed him briefly.  "Feel better?"

"I'm still hot," he growled, then he bent forward to whisper in
her ear.

"We'll find you a nice air-conditioned place with a pool," she
promised.

"Ahem," Gibson interrupted before John could whisper his sweet
nothings.  "The boat is here."

On the ferry Gibson leaned forward eagerly, watching everything
and moving from side to side like a much younger child.

When they docked, Monica asked the ferry operator for
suggestions, and he recommended a hotel offshore.  Gibson smiled
broadly as they started off.  "This hotel has a nice pool.  I
hope they need a pool boy."

"I hope it's not too expensive," John answered.

"Give the place a chance, John," Monica urged.  "We just got
here.  She looked up into the cloudless sky and said dreamily,
"If we could have had a normal wedding and a normal honeymoon, I
would have wanted to come here."  She rested her head on his
shoulder then added, "And even if we are around normal people
here, wouldn't we be safe here?  They wouldn't blow up a whole
island, would they?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," he answered.  They stopped for a
traffic light and he took the opportunity to kiss the top of her
hair.  "But, no, I don't think they will."

The hotel rose from a rocky island off the main island, its
gleaming facades a stark contrast from the natural beauty of the
coastline and beach below.

"We've been had," John sighed.  "That ferry man must get a
commission on suckers like us."  Monica seemed not to hear him.
"Monica?  We can't stay here.  It's too expensive."

"Just one night?" she pleaded.  "Then we can look for someplace
cheaper in the morning."

Gibson's eyes were wide as saucers as he contemplated the luxury
ahead.  "I wonder how much they pay their pool boy," was all he
said.

"John, let's see if there's a reason we were directed here.  Even
if Gibson didn't sense anything, there still could be..."  Monica
interrupted herself with a sigh.  "And it's off-season.  We can
afford it."

John considered reminding her that they had no source of income,
but one look in her chocolate eyes melted his resolve.  He
remembered all the fights he'd had with Barbara over money,
fights that always ended with Barbara in tears and John wondering
whether he'd been too harsh.

"You win," he announced.  "But only for one night."

"It's a deal," she agreed.

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

The lobby was elegant yet casual, but not casual enough to keep
John from feeling out of his element.  He was tired, sweaty and
worried about money.  But the desk clerk seemed not to notice.
"Stay here," he ordered Monica and Gibson.  "I'll see if they
have connecting rooms."

He tried his schoolbook Spanish then found to his relief that the
desk clerk spoke flawless English.  "Yes, we have two adjoining
rooms.  Do you have any other requirements?"

"A crib," he said, smiling at William.

"No problem," the woman said.

He leaned forward and asked conspiratorially, then looked away
when he realized he was looking at her chest. "We're on our
honeymoon... do you have...?"

"You brought your children with you on your honeymoon?" the clerk
asked in surprise, then caught herself.  "Yes, of course.  We can
send up champagne and flowers.  Now, if I can see your ID...?"

He pulled his wallet full of fake ID from his pocket then showed
it to her.  She glanced up at him.  "You're the Flores family?"

He nodded, becoming nervous.  "Why?"

"It's just... you don't look Mexican," she said, handing back his
ID.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," he said.  His answer seemed to satisfy
her, and she called for a bellboy to escort them to their rooms.

Once they were alone in their room, Gibson let out a breath.
"They know who we are, but they're okay.  They don't mean us any
harm."

John flushed at the realization that the desk clerk must have
been reading his thoughts, including his passing curiosity about
her nipples.  It hadn't been a problem around the nuns, but this
environment would present new challenges.

"I said she's okay," Gibson repeated.  "You can trust her."

"Thanks."  John smiled at the boy's understanding.  He'd grown up
a lot in the past few months.

A few minutes after they'd started settling in, the bellhop
arrived with William's crib.  As John stood at the door trying to
figure out how much to tip him, they heard a woman's voice from
the hallway say, "No, Roberto!  Ellos non pagan.  No tipping!"

Roberto stepped aside, making room for a sixty-something woman
with an aristocratic air despite her plump physique.  "Where's my
grand-baby?" she cried out as she pushed her way into the room.

"Mama!" Monica gasped.

Mama Reyes pulled her adoptive daughter into an embrace that
threatened to knock the wind out of both of them.  "Hija mia,"
she cried.  Though much shorter than Monica, Mama Reyes rocked
her daughter in her powerful arms as if she were a tiny infant.

Monica pulled free.  "Mama, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for my grand-baby," the older woman said.  She spotted
William then squealed, "There he is!"

William seemed overwhelmed but allowed her to pick him up.  She
handled him gingerly at first, but soon cradled him familiarly.
"I've heard so much about you, little man," she cooed.  "And you
must be Gibson."  She hoisted William on one hip then took Gibson
in a maternal bear hug with her free arm.  "Ever since I first
heard about you I couldn't wait to meet you!"

Gibson blushed, but didn't answer.

"You've never had a grand-mama before, have you?" she asked,
letting him pull away.

"No, ma'am," he said.  "Pleased to meet you."

"So formal!  What has my daughter been teaching you?"

Monica moved to stand behind Gibson, then put her hands on his
shoulders.  "To be a good, honest, upright human being, just as
you taught me."

Mama Reyes laughed.  "Good answer."

"I hate to interrupt," John said.  "But how do you know his name?
And how did you know we'd be here?"  He put the privacy chain on
the door then walked to the middle of the room.

"John, you remember the private detective they hired?"  Monica
kneaded Gibson's taut shoulders as if they were John's, but
Gibson didn't complain.

"Yeah, the one who tipped off Brad and A.D. Skinner."

"The one who A.D. Skinner just went into business with," Mama
Reyes answered.  "The one who helps us watch out for People of
the Via."

"Us?  You're part of this?" Monica asked.

"Or are you working for *them?*" John accused.

Mrs. Reyes handed William to Gibson then turned to face John, a
bemused smirk on her face.  "He told us you were protective.  I
see he was right."

"Mama," Monica started, hoping she put bring this first meeting
between her mother and her new husband on a better footing. "You
remember John, from the hospital?  When he saved my life?"

"Of course I remember," she snapped.  "And I'm glad to see he's
just as protective now."

"Brad told us not to come to Mexico.  We thought it meant that
you were being watched."  Monica closed her eyes when she
realized what she'd said.

"Not watched," her mother corrected.  "Watched *over.*"

Monica's brow furrowed as she pondered what her mother meant.
John gave her a moment to take the lead, and when she didn't
speak up he decided to ask the obvious.  He had just opened his
mouth to speak when Gibson saved him the effort.

"She's a member of the Via," Gibson explained.


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

John flopped into the room's recliner.  "Of course."

"But mama," Monica said.  "How? Since when?"

"All my life, hija."  Mama Reyes took her confused daughter's
face in her hands and smiled beneficently.  "Taking you in was my
*opus dei,* my duty to the Via."

"And papa?" Monica asked, still stunned.

"He is too," her mother responded.  "He'll be here in a minute."

"You came here like us?  As refugees?"

Mama Reyes laughed.  "No, hija, we own this."  She waved her hand
around the room.  "Papa sold the business, and we retired here."

Gibson patted the expensive-looking dresser.  "You live *here?*"

"Yes, Gibson," Mama Reyes said.  "And our home is your home."

"You hear that?!" Gibson said excitedly.  "We can stay here!"  He
looked to John for approval.  "Say we can!"

John grinned at the boy.  Yes, this environment would certainly
be new for him.  After living in a school for the deaf, a trailer
in the desert, a monastery, and a cheap motel, living in a luxury
hotel would be very appealing.  "We'll talk about it later," he
said.

"Please?" Gibson pleaded.  "I promise I'll get a job!"

"We hear you're an excellent pool boy, Gibson," Mrs. Reyes said.
"The job is yours if you want it."

"Later, Gibson," John repeated.

"We could use a new chief of hotel security, too."  Mrs. Reyes
winked at John, who wasn't sure he liked the direction things
were taking.  Psychic nuns, a psychic brother-in-law, and now a
psychic mother-in-law?  This couldn't be good.

"We promise you'll have your privacy," she added.

"Mama," Monica interrupted.  "Give us some time.  We just got
here!"

"Of course," she said.  "Why don't I give the boys a tour while
you get settled and talk things over?"

"Why don't we all just stay in our room like one happy family?"
John said, taking William from Gibson.

"I'll be fine," Gibson promised.  "I have my gun."  He patted his
holster then added, "But I'm sure I won't need it."

Monica and John locked eyes for a moment, then John said, "Okay.
Be back in an hour, or I'm coming after you."

"A curfew.  How sweet," Gibson grumbled.

Mama Reyes laughed.  "This hotel is big but not *that* big.
He'll be back in less than an hour."

After they left, John put William in the crib, then picked up the
hotel's guest services book.  "I wonder if room service is free
too."

"Nobody ever came to our house and went away hungry," Monica
said.  "Expect to be well fed here!"

John tossed the book on the bed.  "I already know what I want for
dessert."  He grabbed Monica by the waist then buried his face in
the crook of her neck.  "Hmmmmm" he hummed.  "Smells sweet.  I
bet it tastes just as sweet."  He kissed his way from her
collarbone to her jaw line, while she urged him on with nails
scraping against his back.

"Yesssss," she thought, and she was surprised to hear him respond
in her mind, "Oh, yeah."

Just then there was a loud knock on the door.

"Champagne," John whispered, pulling away to go to the door.
"And flowers."

Monica blew him a kiss when he put his hand on the knob and he
smiled.  That kind of silliness would have turned him off a year
ago, but now he couldn't get enough of it.  He pulled back on the
chain, opened the door, and was surprised to see no champagne.

A tall, cool, aristocratic man stood in the hall.  "I hear my
daughter's here."

"Papa!" Monica cried out, forgetting her flirtation with John.
She raced to the door and wrapped her arms around the man.

John eyed him warily.  They'd met a year earlier, when Monica lay
in a hospital room recovering from a near-fatal accident.  That
day, her father's emotions were as turbulent as John's.
Alternating between righteous anger and tears of joy, he was on
the point of a nervous break-down.  But now, on his own turf, he
seemed a different man.  He was aloof, hesitant to return
Monica's affection, and very much in control of himself.  John
wondered for an instant if he had been turned into a super
soldier, but Monica's implicit trust put him at ease.  Perhaps
this was the *true* Gustavo Reyes.

Monica pulled away and wiped away a tear.  "It's so good to see
you, Papa."

"Did you have a good trip?" her father asked.

"Papa," Monica scolded.  "Is that all you can say?"

But John stepped in and rescued him.  As much as he liked
Monica's affectionate mother, he felt an instant affinity for her
father's caution.  "Yes, we made good time."

"Take the main road?" he asked.  "Or side roads?"

"Papa!" Monica repeated.  "Aren't you happy to see us?"

Chided, her father cracked the broadest smile he could manage.
"Of course I am.  We were worried about you."  He put his hands
in his pockets, an action which seemed to give him confidence.
"But then when we found out you'd joined the Via, we knew you'd
be safe."

"You've been a part of this all my life, but you never said
anything?" Monica asked.

"Sorry, hija, but it was obvious you weren't going to be like us.
We didn't think you'd ever need to join."  He went to William's
crib and looked down on the sleeping child. "Do you sense him?
Do you sense how special he is?  You weren't like this."

Monica felt an odd sort of resentment at this news.  Compared to
her peers and to John, she'd always felt special.  She was the
one with the edge.  Then, living amongst the People of the Via,
she'd felt "normal" for the first time, like she was with her
kind.  But today her own father, of all people, has said she
doesn't belong with the People of the Via, either.  She blinked
back her tears and said, "We just put him down.  Don't wake him
up, Papa."

"He's dreaming," Papa Reyes said.  "Did you know babies dream?
He's dreaming about you.  He loves you."  He left the crib and
took Monica's hands in his.  His diffidence seemed to be melting
by the moment as his thoughts turned to children.  "I still
remember the first time you dreamt for us.  You were dreaming
about your birth mother, how much she loved you, and how sad she
was to give you up."

John put his arm around his wife.  "We've heard about that."

"Yes, Vince told me," Papa Reyes said.  "We've been in touch."
He looked back at the crib.  "Now he's dreaming about water.  He
loves the water, and playing in it with you."

"His hydrotherapy," Monica explained.  "I make a game out of it."

"Our pool is usually empty in the mornings.  You're welcome to
use it with him."  He gave his daughter a grim smile.  "It's
terrible what happened to him.  You did the right thing."

"I know."  Monica shook her father's hands lightly.  "You heard
about his surgery?  What else do you know?"

"Your friends the nuns are onshore, establishing a mission for
fishermen and travelers.  The babies from the agency are here on
the island."  He looked at William's crib and said, "He's
dreaming about a crystal skull now.  You found one?"

Not wanting to give anything away, John decided to deflect this
question.  "What about the older children?  There are some,
aren't there?"

"The natural ones are with their parents, or their adoptive
parents.  The children like him," he said, nodding toward
William.  "They're all his age.  Then there's Gibson..."

"He's special," Monica agreed.  "He's the only one.  Mulder said
so."

Her father snorted.  "He's the only one Mulder knew about."  Then
he shook his head and muttered, "That guy is so arrogant..."

"There are more?" John wondered about Lita, the only child
Gibson's age that he could think of.

"Gibson's the most successful prototype, but there are others.
They're here, where your Mulder won't find them."

"Is Lita here?" Monica asked.  "Do you know Lita?"

Papa smiled at her.  "She's like a daughter to you."

"Well, is she?" John demanded.

"No, she's not on the island.  But I hear she's safe," he said.
"Everyone is safe.  We do have an edge over the enemy, you know."

They heard Gibson's voice in the hall, laughing and talking a
mile a minute.  He burst in and announced, "This hotel has
EVERYTHING!  There's a work-out room, computer room, TWO
restaurants... And you should see the pool!  It has a bar, right
in the middle of it!"

Monica laughed then rubbed her thumb over his lower lip.  "And
which of these places serves chocolate ice cream?"

"Our apartment," her mother answered.  "I hope you don't mind.
He hasn't had ice cream in such a long time..."

"I only mind that you didn't bring any to share."  Monica wet a
washcloth then wiped the smudge from Gibson's chin, much to the
boy's embarrassment.

He shook himself free then continued with his breathless
commentary.  "And there's an indoor pool just for lap swimming,
and you should see the beach!"

"We can wait until morning," John said.  "It's been a long
drive."

"You want to go to sleep?" Gibson shrieked.  Don't you want to go
to the island and see the other hotels on North Beach?"

Papa Reyes shifted uncomfortably as John and Monica exchanged a
very marital glance.  "You two go ahead with your honeymoon.
Mama and I can show Gibson around, and he can stay with us
tonight."

"Can I?" Gibson asked.  "I'll be okay, I promise!"

Monica hesitated. It would be the first time he'd been away from
them since they'd returned from the Anasazi ruins.  She looked to
John for his opinion but before he could answer, her mother spoke
up.

"He's a teenager, and a very mature one at that.  You have to
trust that he'll be okay when he leaves you, just as your father
and I had to."

Monica couldn't argue with that logic.  She'd argued for greater
independence at an even younger age than Gibson's, and now that
she knew about the dangers to people of the Via, she was on her
mother's side.  But reminiscing about her arguments with her
parents also reminded her how protective they were.  Yes, he
would be good hands.

"Please?" Gibson begged.  "You were safe with them."

"Don't confuse me with logic!" Monica laughed.

John clapped a hand on his shoulder.  "Yes, you can go.  Have fun
with your grandparents."

After Gibson had left to tour North Beach with the Reyes, John
took his wife in his arms.  "Who needs champagne?" he growled.

"I get no kick from champagne," Monica sang breathily as she
started dancing in his arms.  "Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at
all, but tell me, what can I do?  'Cause I get a kick out of
you."

She stopped singing and started humming, her head resting on his
shoulder as her body moved sensuously in his arms.

"Do you know the rest of the words?" he asked.

"No," she laughed, leaning back to look into his eyes.  "You
don't either?"

"Music was never my subject," he said.

"Really?" she grinned.  "Every day I learn something new about
you."

"I never knew you liked old-time jazz standards," he said, moving
stiffly to the rhythm she'd set up.  "Know any more?"

She thought for a moment, then said, "How about this one?  There
was a man, a very strange enchanted man.  They say he traveled
very far, very far, very far one day..."  She sang the entire
song, growing more confident as she approached the final line:
"The greatest thing you can ever learn, is just to love and be
loved in return."

At the last words John blinked back tears then kissed her on the
lips as she drifted off into a hum.  "I hope you don't want me to
return the favor," he whispered.  "All's I know are Bruce
Springsteen and The Average White Band."

"If things go the direction I think they're going," she purred.
"Average will be the last thing I'll want to hear."

He danced her toward the bed, then held her in his arms as she
fell backward in slow-motion onto the mattress.  Her hair splayed
out on the bedspread and the lights from the overhead fixture
danced in her eyes.  He crossed to the light switch, turned out
all the lights, then pulled off his shirt as he walked back to
the bed.  Standing at the foot of the bed, he looked down on his
bride for a long moment before getting on his knees, straddling
her.  "Well, hello, Mrs. Doggett," he whispered.

"Hello, Mr. Doggett," she answered.

"You look beautiful in moonlight."  He reached for the top button
of her blouse.  "Did you know that?"

"No," she whispered, then gasped when he slipped a hand under her
blouse.

"Well, you do, as you always do."  He cupped first one breast
then the other. "You feel beautiful too."

"We have all night," she reminded him.

"You aren't in a hurry?" he asked, running his hand up from her
breastbone to her jaw line then back down again.

"Hmmm-nhhh," she hummed.  "Take all the time you want."

Like unwrapping a precious gift, he undressed her slowly, taking
in each new vision as if it were the first time he'd seen her
body.  She lay passively on the bed, looking into his eyes as he
studied her and lifting an arm or a leg when he needed help.
Finally, she lay there, bathed in the soft light of the moon as
he stood at the foot of the bed, performing a slow strip-tease
for her.

She felt her heart racing as he slowly lowered himself onto her,
and gasped when she felt the first hot contact of his
well-developed chest.  Like the virgin her parents wished she'd
been on her wedding night, she let him guide her movements and
show her how to pleasure him.  Even now, after all these times
together, she was still learning new ways to bring him to the
brink.  With her lips she explored every inch of his alien
terrain, biting and sucking in random intervals until she came to
the throbbing pole that thrust itself into her mouth.  She
resisted the urge to laugh, and relaxed her jaw to accept the
whole thing, taking him further into her throat than she'd ever
taken anyone.   He made a few thrusts then grabbed her hair and
growled desperately, "No, not this way."

She let him go, then straddled him, lowering her slippery, hot
core over him.  "Like this?" she purred.

"Yes..."  He exhaled deeply while she lowered herself onto him,
then gave one final push that made him gasp.  "I love you..." he
whispered.

Monica would have answered, but she was so engrossed in the
feeling of having him inside her that she barely heard him.
Moving slowly at first, then gradually picking up speed, she gave
herself over to the pleasure building inside her.  Unaware that
John was watching her breasts heave and sway in the moonlight,
she writhed on top of him, letting her hair fan out as she
whipped her head from side to side.  Suddenly, she felt a strong
finger at the nub of her excitement, then a thumb.  John played
with it, rolling it around in rhythm to her pounding assault on
his member until she heard her voice slipping into animalistic
groans.  He switched to rubbing its slick tip, which sent wave
after wave of toe-curling ecstacy coursing through her body.
John kept up his manipulation even as his own body turned to a
churning mass of liquid pleasure, shooting his essence into her
for what seemed like hours.

Finally, Monica collapsed on top of John, keeping him inside her
until he made the first move to part.  "That was incredible," she
sighed.

John draped an arm over her waist and rolled her to her side,
where he could face her.  "That's because *you're* incredible,"
he answered.

She smiled.  "I had incredible inspiration."  She drew a leg up
over his then hooked her ankle behind his knee.  "Feel free to
inspire me in the morning too."

"I just might take you up on that."  He pushed a strand of hair
away from her face then looked into her eyes.  "When I see you I
get inspired too."

He fell asleep first, and Monica listened to his breathing for
several moments until she realized that she was hoping the subtle
pain she was feeling in her abdomen might be ovulation.  She
smiled and fell asleep thinking that it probably was.



CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR


In the morning Mama Reyes invited the newlyweds to breakfast in
the Reyes' penthouse apartment then showed them around as William
slept contentedly in his new gramma's arms.  John was astonished
at the apartment's elegant opulence, enormous size, and panoramic
views, but Monica felt right at home.  After staring slack-jawed
at the objets-d'Art in the library, he turned to see Monica
pulling a children's book off the shelf.  This is how she grew
up? he thought.  What's she want with a shlub like me?  But when
she turned around and saw him looking at her she smiled, removing
any doubt that she did indeed see something in him.

"You kept all my books!?" she said to her mother, then showed
John the well-loved copy of "Little Women" in her hand.

"You read English even then?" he asked.

She nodded, then reshelved the book.  "I just took it for granted
because my parents were bi-lingual."

"We felt it was important," her mother explained.

John wanted to ask what it was important for, but Papa Reyes
interrupted.

"I understand you two want jobs, cash jobs," he said.

John looked accusingly at Gibson, who shrugged.  "You can't hide
anything from him," the boy explained.

"I don't blame you for wanting to make your own way.  In fact, I
admire it," Mr. Reyes said, ignoring Gibson's comment.  "Your job
was to bring these two boys here safely, and you've done that.
Your debt to the Via is paid in full."

"Papa, we've only been here a day," Monica argued.  As she
glanced from her mother, cradling William, to Gibson, who looked
a little too admiringly at his new foster grandfather, she began
to feel uneasy.  Was he trying to get rid of her?

"No, hija, we're not trying to get rid of you," Mama answered her
daughter's thoughts.  "It's him."  She nodded to John, who
flushed.  "He wants to be self-supporting again, and who could
blame him?  He's a good man, and he has his pride."

"We haven't discussed it yet," John pointed out.

Monica nodded in agreement.  "We just arrived, and when we found
out you owned this hotel..."

"Of course you can stay as long as you want."  Papa put an arm
around his wife.  "But you don't *have* to stay here.  We can
lend you enough to get started if you want to rent a cottage,
then you can pay us back after you find work."

John grinned awkwardly at Monica and her parents.  He had to
admit to himself that he'd been having those thoughts, and now
that Monica knew, he hoped she would agree.  All his adult life
he'd been taking home a regular paycheck, paying his bills on
time, and coming home to his own house.  Trusting in the Via to
take care of him and his family just wasn't his way.  "Any
suggestions?"

Papa Reyes smiled in a way that made John feel he was looking
down on him despite being the same height.  "Go explore the
island.  Rent a moped and see what strikes your fancy."

John wanted to protest that he didn't have a "fancy" that could
be struck, but Gibson interrupted.  "I want to go too!"

Monica looked longingly at William then said, "John, why don't
you and Gibson do the exploring.  William and I have our
hydrotherapy..."

"It's a small island," her mother said.  "Let him sleep until you
get back.  He had a big day yesterday."

John reached for Monica's hand.  She instantly felt what he was
thinking:  that Monica needed to let go of William a little bit.
They'd talked about this before, and now was the time for her to
do what she'd promised.  She turned her pained eyes toward him
and saw a smile that said, yes, I know it's hard, but it's the
right thing to do.  It was a smile she'd offered him many times
before.

"Okay," she agreed.

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

John stood looking down on his rented moped.  "I dunno if I can
ride this.  It's not a motorcycle, it's not a bicycle..."

"They're not just for wussies anymore," Gibson laughed.  He
hopped on his and kicked it "on," following the shop owner's
instructions.

Monica laughed and copied Gibson.  "Well?" she teased.  "We're
not getting any younger here."

John grimaced and started his, but Monica laughed.  He turned it
off and said, "What? What's so funny?

"You look so silly on that thing," she said.

Gibson snickered.  "It looks so small now!"

"Yeah, laugh at the tall guy. I've seen the way you've been
growing, boy."

"Come on," Monica cajoled.  "It's what everyone rides here.
You'll fit in more."

John restarted his moped, drove a few circles in the parking lot,
then started out for the main road.

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

North Beach was what they'd expected from Monica's parents'
description, with sleek, elegant hotels lining the wide sandy
beaches.  But when they reached the town they turned into gawking
tourists, riding through the colorful alleys and streets lined
with shops.  John and Monica parked their mopeds then walked
hand-in-hand through the town as Gibson darted ahead then doubled
back.

Several blocks from the beach they came to a small, vacant
cottage with a FOR RENT sign.  "That's cheap," Monica pointed
out.  "Even cheaper than I would have expected."

"If all three of us had jobs..." John mused.

Gibson pouted, an expression which looked ridiculous on a moped.
"You don't want to live at the hotel?"

"Remember when you told us you wanted a normal life, Gibson?"
Monica put a hand on his shoulder and stared into his eyes as she
kept the memory of their first few days as a family in her mind.
It was what he said he'd wanted, and though he also wanted to
join the fight against the impending invasion, Monica knew he
still wanted some normalcy in his life.

But..." Gibson began to protest.

John put his hand on Gibson's other shoulder.  "A luxury hotel
isn't normal, Gibson.  And I don't think I want William growing
up there, either.  This," he waved toward the house then to the
surrounding cottages.  "This is a neighborhood."

As if to prove John's point, a woman pushing a stroller passed by
and smiled to them.

"And if there are families here, there must be a school," Monica
pointed out.  "We want you both to have friends and playmates..."

"Playmates?" Gibson groaned.

"And girlfriends," John quickly added.  "And guy friends to hang
out with, play football, you know."

Gibson sighed.  "Can I still work at the pool?"

His foster parents exchanged a glance, then Monica said, "Sure.
I see no harm in that."

They took down the phone number for the cottage's landlord then
continued exploring the island, stopping whenever they sensed a
job opportunity.  John found a job on a fishing boat.  He'd be
fishing from before dawn to mid-morning then hauling the fish to
the big hotels.  Monica found an afternoon job as a translator at
a turtle farm, giving talks to tourists.

Mama Reyes seemed disappointed that they'd found a cottage and
jobs so quickly, but her true disappointment was that they'd
found complementary schedules and wouldn't need a babysitter.
She cradled William in her arms and cooed, "We had fun this
morning, didn't we?  After we woke up?  Yes, we did..."

Monica stifled her jealousy at William's giggles, and she
wondered if Scully ever felt that way about her effect on him.
William had taken to Monica so naturally that sometimes it seemed
like William preferred her to his own mother.  Scully had been so
puzzled about how to handle her special child, but Monica never
gave it a thought, and now she knew that William must have felt
that.  But her mother?  Was this the same thing?

Over lunch they discussed the jobs, the cottage, the amount of
help the Reyes' could offer, and William's day care.  Mama Reyes
seemed satisfied to have Monica and William visit for lunch every
day after hydrotherapy.  Afterward, they repeated the tour of the
hotel, with Gibson narrating most of it as William's hand grabbed
for almost anything within reach.  Mama let Monica hold him, but
stayed close at hand, putting her own fingers in the place of the
objects William was grabbing.  "They're always like this when
they first arrive," she said sadly.  "Being in hiding, it's no
life for a baby, even a special one.  Am I right, Gibson?"

Gibson nodded, but said, "It's better than the alternative,
though."

Mama traced the scars still visible through Gibson's
short-cropped hair.  "We won't let this happen to you again," she
promised.  "Or to any other children."

They moved into their new cottage a few days later, then settled
into a routine dictated by their jobs.  John awoke well before
dawn, and was far out to sea by the time Monica and the boys woke
up.  Gibson walked Monica and William to the beach for
hydrotherapy, and when the sea was too choppy they'd go to the
hotel instead, walking the whole way with Gibson, who was
becoming quite fit in his new environment.

Three weeks into their new routine, Monica noted that William had
become more and more active since their move to the island.  His
back was now completely healed, and though he could stand on his
legs with some help, he continued to crawl and at an amazing
speed.  Chasing after him all morning was making her wonder if
she should have accepted her mother's babysitting offer.  After
his hydrotherapy, they often stayed on the beach, Monica on a
towel and William at her side playing with his plastic pail and
shovel.

Monica played with William for a few minutes, then drifted off,
wondering if there might be another baby for him to play with
soon.  She hadn't told John about her suspicion, or maybe it was
just a hope, but it was on her mind so much she was sure he'd
have picked up on it.  Another baby?  Would he be happy?  Would
it be a child of the Via?  Would their baby have more ability
than them or less?  And would it be added to the database John
had discovered?  She closed her eyes and patted her abdomen.
They had jobs, they had a home...  Now was a good time...

Her eyes had only been closed a few seconds.  She was sure of it.
But she'd been miles away, or perhaps months away, in her mind.
And when she opened her eyes again, William was several yards
away, crawling toward the ocean at lightning speed.

"Ebba!" William cried out as he sped along.  "Ebba!"

"William, NO!" Monica yelled, then took off running toward him.

But the little guy was too fast for her.  He crawled into the
water, crying out "ebba!" and laughing as an unusually high wave
washed over him then carried him out to sea.



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Monica ran toward the water the dived into the undertow that
followed the wave that took William.  A few sunbathers called out
to her but except for registering the hope that they would be
summoning help, she paid no attention to them.  All her attention
was focused on the tiny stream of bubbles that told her where
William was.  When the bubbles disappeared, she stopped swimming
and treaded water, hollering "Will-yam!"

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

John hauled a net onto the deck of the fishing boat then quickly
sorted the keepers into a large container.  The rest were a
rainbow assortment of tropical fish that tourists would be paying
big money to see in their native element.  He tossed them back
into the sea and was about to throw out the net when something
caught his eye.

In the distance, a dolphin broke the surface, jumped into the air
in a graceful arc, then dove back under.  Another dolphin
following close behind mimicked the first, followed by a third,
then a fourth.  "Beautiful," he muttered to himself.  It wasn't
the first time he'd seen the dolphins, but on this day their
dance was particularly graceful.

"Something's happening," said Luis, the only fisherman other than
the captain who spoke English.  Being able to translate for John
had given Luis extra status on the boat, and he took every
opportunity to demonstrate his skill.

"With the dolphins?" John asked.  Except for being a little more
active, he didn't see any difference.

"Yes, they are upset.  They're trying to get our attention."
Luis looked over his shoulder and nodded to the fishermen.  They
began pulling up on the remaining nets.

John looked over Luis' shoulder, incredulous. "You're kidding.
They're talking to us?"

"Not talking.  Remember Lassie?  It's like that."

John snorted. "What?  Timmy fell down the mineshaft?"

"Lost sailors."  Luis said gravely.

John looked around, quickly counting heads on the little fishing
boat.  They were all there, and there were no other boats in the
area.  He was about to question how a sailor could come to be
there when the boat lurched into a turn and sped toward the
dolphins.

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

Monica swam until her arms threatened to give out, diving then
resurfacing dozens of times.  She stopped to check her position
against the beach where they'd been.  How far out was she?  She
could barely make tell the beach towels from the umbrellas.
Defeated, she had just started swimming back to shore when she
heard a boat approach.

"HELP!  AYUDA!" she shouted, waving her arms.

When the boat came closer she saw it was the coast guard.  They
pulled her on board then started back toward the dock almost
immediately.

"NO! No!" Monica rushed to the captain and pulled on the his
sleeve.  "My baby! My baby's out there!"

"Bebe?" he repeated, then scanned the water.  "Aqui?"  She
nodded, brushing off the captain's assistant, who was trying to
drape a towel over her shoulders.  He ordered the divers into the
water and called on his radio.

Now that help was on the way, Monica started to shiver.  She
grabbed the proffered towel and wrapped it around her waist, then
took another and draped it over her shoulders.  When the captain
was finished radioing for help he and his assistant led her to a
seat and asked, "What happened?"

"He was playing on the beach, then he went into the water, and a
big wave just suddenly..."  Reliving that terrible moment brought
up the sobs Monica had repressed by taking action.  "It just...
took him," she finished.

The assistant's face blanched.  "A wave?  How big?"

Monica felt the man's fear, and she recognized it.  It was the
same supernatural terror she had often felt from the victims and
witnesses on her X-Files cases.  "About..." She raised her arm
higher and higher until it was chin-high.

"Madre de Dios," the assistant said, then crossed himself.

The captain cleared his throat, which had the desired effect of
turning Monica's attention away from.  "And the wave carried him
out?" the captain prodded.

"Yes.  I lost sight of him except for..." Monica's tears
threatened to overwhelm her at the thought but she persevered and
finished with "bubbles."

"Sirena," the assistant whispered.

"A mermaid?" Monica stared at the assistant.  William was the
victim of an X-File?

"You speak Spanish?" the captain asked.

Monica nodded.  So not everyone here was with the Via.  It was
some comfort to be explaining herself for a change, but for
William's sake she found herself wishing someone from the Via
could tell her everything would be okay, that William was safe.

"What mermaids?" she asked.  Could William have been lured to his
death by a mermaid?

"Why would mermaids want a baby?" the captain yelled at his
assistant.  His face softened when he turned back to Monica.
"There is a legend, but no stories from this part of the
Caribbean."

The assistant refused to be silenced.  "Half-human, half-dolphin.
They can walk among us on the land, and swim with the dolphins in
the sea.  On land they can call up the wind, and in the sea..."

"The wave," Monica finished, her heart dropping into her stomach.
"They can call up the waves."

The assistant nodded and crossed himself.  "They can sink ships,
drown swimmers..."

"But why?" Monica struggled to understand how William could have
been crawling *toward* such creatures.  Did he sense them?

The captain put his arm around her shoulders.  "They have also
been credited with rescuing people."

"But if they don't like you," the assistant said.  He finished by
drawing a hand across his throat.  "Adios."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

"It's just a legend," the captain said.  "Stop worrying her!"  He
gave Monica's shoulder a reassuring shake then added, "What's
*fact* is that babies can survive hypothermia and hypoxia better
than adults can.  We still have time."

Monica smiled at his attempt to quell her worries.  Even if he
wasn't psychic, he would surely know that she would worry
nonetheless.  "I feel better now.  I'd like to go back in."

"Leave the rest to us men, Mamacita," the captain said with a
smile that proved he surely didn't see into her mind.

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

John's boat hadn't gone far when the other fishermen started
pointing to a circle of dolphin fins.  The captain cut the
engine.

"Why'd you do that?" John asked.  They were still hundreds of
yards away.

"Las sirenas," Luis explained.  "The mermaids.  They will come to
us.  We don't go to them."

"Mermaids?" John was incredulous.  Lassie-dolphins were hard
enough to swallow, but now mermaids?

"They work with the dolphins.  The dolphins lead us to them when
they have rescued someone."

As if they did this every day, two of the men lowered a large net
by both ends, creating a kind of hammock until it hung just above
the surface.  Luis added, "Now we wait."

Soon two of the dolphins broke rank and swam toward the boat.
The other dolphins then  scattered in different directions.  As
the two approached the boat, John could see what looked like a
human form swimming between them.  And as they approached still
closer, he could tell that it was a very female human form, with
long dark hair.   His heart jumped into his throat.  Was it
Monica?

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

Before the other men could stop him, John kicked off his shoes
and jumped into the warm sea.  Despite the shouts of "NO!" coming
from behind him, he swam toward the figure.

She was naked, swimming underwater until he was almost upon her,
but at the last moment she broke the surface.

He gasped.  "Shannon?"

Shannon McMahon righted herself, treading water, then reached
below the surface and brought up a squirming, giggling William.

"WILLIAM!" John shouted, reaching for the baby.

William dutifully held out his arms, giggling as John snatched
him away from Shannon's clutches.

"What the--"  John started, but Shannon interrupted.

"He's yours?" Shannon asked.  Then she nodded toward his wedding
ring.  "Congratulations.  It's been too long.  We should stay in
touch."

"What were you doing with him?" John demanded.

"Bringing him to you, apparently."  Shannon patted the backs of
the two dolphins at her sides, then nodded toward the boat.  The
fishermen were yelling frantically and tossing life preservers
overboard.  "Your friends are calling you."

She started to swim away, but John said, "WAIT!  I want some
answers."

She sighed.  "Need to know, John.  Need to know."

"Well, I need to know dammit!  What are you doing out here, and
what were you doing with this baby?"

"Look at him," she said.  "He's fine.  Take him home and try to
keep him away from the beach."

"Why?" John looked into William's face, which was as happy as
he'd ever seen it.  "What have you done to him?"

"Listen, I can't stay this close to your boat.  It has a
magnetite keel.  Put the baby in the net then swim out to meet
me."  She turned around, and putting a hand on each dolphin's fin
for support, she swam away.

John looked over his shoulder at the boat.  Luis looked like he
was about to jump overboard.  "William," he scolded the tyke.  "I
hope you have a good explanation for this."

"Ebba!" William giggled.

John lifted William onto his chest then did an improvised
sidestroke back toward the boat.  He laid William in the net then
yelled to Luis, "Call the coast guard, willya?  Tell them to call
the Reyes, at the offshore hotel."

Luis' eyes widened at the name of the wealthy hotel owners, and
as soon as the net was raised he scooped up the baby and ran to
the radio.

John swam out to Shannon, who seemed a little green around the
gills.  "You okay?"

"Magnetite.  It's all around here, under the surface and all
through that boat."  She took in some water then spit it out.
"It's even in the water."

John reached out the hand with the wedding ring, and its
vibrations told him that she was indeed the kind of supersoldier
that would be killed by magnetite.

"Who's the lucky lady?" Shannon asked.

"Monica Reyes, my partner."  He pulled back his hand then
explained, "There's magnetite in my ring.  I was just
checking..."

"So you're a member of the Via now?"

"You know about that?"  John wasn't sure if this was good or bad.

"And the baby, he's yours too?"

"Foster child.  Long story."  John decided if she was going to
play the need-to-know game, he would too.  "Thank you for saving
him."

"When we get a tip that someone from the Via is in trouble we
come out and find them," she answered.  "We can't help onshore,
of course.  Magnetite in the bedrock.  But we do what we can."

"You're aligned with the Via?"

Shannon nodded then looked over John's shoulder toward the
fishing boat.  "Remember the group I told you about?  Those of us
who hate what we've become?  We found out about the Via and the
*sirenas* who help them."

John was suddenly confused.  Or more precisely, more confused.
"Sirenas?  It's not you?"

"They are a branch of the Via.  A secret branch.  It's a long
story."

"I got time," he said.  He kept his eyes on hers, even when she
nodded toward his fishing boat.  "They can wait."

She sighed then pulled her dolphins closer to her for support.
"John, how much do you want to know?

"Start with the beginning."

"In the beginning, there were humans and there were aliens.  Then
the aliens experimented.  They wanted to create hybrids to suit
their purposes."  She grimaced, disgusted at the thought.  "They
also brought other species into the genetic mix."

John watched her as she patted her dolphins' backs.  "You don't
mean..."

"They wanted to be able to retrieve their space craft from the
ocean floor, where it had crashed sixty-five million years
earlier.  They could see that humans would one day evolve to be
able to find it, and they wanted to get a jump on them.  Anyway,
it didn't work out.  The spacecraft is still there, well, most of
it..."  She looked at the boat again.  "They didn't tell you
about it yet, did they?"

Wrinkles crowded John's brow as he tried to put together a
picture.  "You mean..."  Sixty-five million years... That date
sounded familiar.  "The asteroid that killed the dinosaurs?"

"It wasn't an asteroid, John.  It was a science lab.  Kind of
like our Spacelab, but bigger.  But it couldn't navigate over all
this magnetite."  Shannon's breath started coming in gasps.
"Listen, I can't stay here much longer."

"What's your part in all this?"

"Remember my group?  We hooked up with the *sirenas,* as the
natives call them.  They're the decedents of hybridization
experiments, just like the members of the Via are.  Just like I
am, in a way.  We're all doing our part to prevent the next ..."

"Invasion?"  John chided himself for asking for information.  Why
was it that every time he asked for answers, he got answers like
this?

"Not just that.  The invasion brings more experiments, more
hybrids.  And the hybrids become overseers.  It's what I was
redesigned for."

John nodded his head.  Of course.  He remembered Lita's history
lesson, about the Mayan hybrids who had become tyrants after the
aliens had left.  Overseers run rampant.

"We want to use our abilities for good."

"Like rescuing babies?" John nodded toward the ship.

Shannon snorted.  "He didn't need rescuing.  But even if he did,
yes, that kind of good."

"What do you mean, didn't need rescuing?"

"John, you surely must know what you have there.  A genetically
engineered super being, like me, but without my weakness for
magnetite.  He can survive for hours under water."

No, John hadn't known that.  He wondered what else he didn't know
about his foster child.  "How did you know he'd be there?  You
just patrol the waters here, despite the magnetite?"

"No, that was coincidence.  Well, sort of.  We didn't find him.
He found us."  Shannon gave him a pitying look, which John found
immensely irritating.  "John... You must promise not to tell
anyone..."

"I promise," he said.  Who would believe any of it anyway, he
wondered.

"Except your wife of course.  She must be worried sick..."

Monica!  John felt a sudden pang of guilt for interrogating
Shannon when he should be comforting Monica, but Shannon drove
off the thought by continuing with her explanation.

"We try to keep the wrong element away from the Via, away from
Isla Mujeres and the peninsula.  We're based in Bermuda, away
from magnetite.  But when someone's threatening the Via at sea,
we raise up the waves and overturn their boats.  It's not pretty,
and it's not nice, but we have to John..."

"Bermuda?" John repeated.  "Don't tell me..."

"The Bermuda Triangle.  We can take credit for a few of those
events, but not all.  Anyway, today we called up a wave and your
son sensed our presence.  He crawled into it and let himself be
drawn to us."  She smiled for the first time since handing
William to John.  "He's a very special little boy."

"Yeah, I know," John grunted.  "He senses mermaids, breathes
underwater, and doesn't react to magnetite."

"I'm glad he's in good hands." Shannon broke into a wide grin.
"And any time you need help with him, let me know."

"Will do," John promised, though he had no intention of doing
that.

"And if you decide to take that job in D.C., working with former
assistant director Skinner, just let the Via know you're looking
for me.  I'll come find you.  D.C. is an easier gig for me."

"What job?" John asked, but just then a loud foghorn sounded from
the boat.  "I gotta get going," he said.

"Yeah, me too," Shannon said.  "You should take that job.  You
can do a lot of good there."  She coughed then added, "I've
stayed too long already."

"How can you stay here at all?  There's magnetite under the sea
bed, isn't there?"  John's eyes narrowed as he began to wonder
whether any of what she said was true.

"Need to know, John.  Need to know."  She grabbed her dolphins'
fins, then the three turned and dove into the water, moving
quickly away from the boat.

"Fine," John muttered.  "Be that way."


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

When the fishing boat docked, Mama and Papa Reyes were there to
greet it.  By then William was sleeping soundly, wrapped in a
thermal blanket and nestled in John's strong arms.  John looked
over the crowd on the dock, pleased to see his in-laws but
wondering about Monica.  Shannon hadn't said anything about
Monica being in trouble.  He had to hope that meant something.

"There he is!" Mama Reyes shouted, grabbing her husband's arm.
"Gustavo, why isn't he moving?"

"He's probably just sleeping," her husband said calmly.  "Don't
borrow trouble, Maria."

Seeing his mother-in-law's distress, John shook William awake,
causing William to let out a loud wail.  "He's fine," John
shouted over the din.

William put up no struggle as Mama Reyes grabbed him and hugged
him to her bosom, nearly suffocating him.  "Oh little William,"
she sighed.  "Your abuela was so worried!"  She rocked him from
side to side, oblivious to her husband and John.

"Where's Monica?" John asked.  "She okay?"

"She's on her way.  The Coast Guard picked her up," her father
answered without a trace of concern.  As if to justify his
nonchalance,  the Coast Guard arrived and John could see Monica
looking for him.  After they docked, Monica grabbed William from
her mother, and John couldn't help chuckling at the way she
hugged William to her breast.  It was as if she were
intentionally mimicking her mother.

"Let's get you back to the hotel," her father suggested.  "Have a
massage, spend some time in the sauna."

"Let's go to our own home," John retorted.  "She needs some dry
clothes.

"It's okay, John.  I want to go with them."  Monica kissed the
top of William's head then smiled at her mother.

John pursed his lips and studied Monica's face.  Something was
wrong.  She didn't want to be alone with him.  But he needed to
be alone with her.  Besides restoring normalcy to their routine,
he wanted to tell her about William and Shannon, and about A.D.
Skinner's offer-by-proxy.  But he knew when he was being
out-voted, and besides, going to the hotel would give him a
chance to check up on Gibson.

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

John should have known the hotel would have clothes for Monica
and him, courtesy of an advance call from his father-in-law.  He
hoped that they would be able to change together in the spare
bedroom, but Monica dashed into the bathroom and slammed the
door.  He continued to the spare bedroom, where Mama Reyes was
diapering William.

"What's with Monica?" he asked.

Mama Reyes looked at him with a combination of pity and disgust.
"She almost lost her baby!"

"I know, but..."

Leaving William half-diapered, she turned and put her hands on
her hips.  "I thought you knew my daughter.  If she needs to cry
give her a place to do it."  When John didn't answer, she clucked
her tongue then added, "If she needs to be alone, let her be
alone."

John sighed.  Yes, he did know that.  Monica cried so rarely that
she felt uncomfortable doing it in front of others, even him.  He
went to the dresser that was serving for William's changing
table.  "Here, let me."  He started pulling William's diaper up,
and as he bent over William peed right into his face.  He sighed
and grabbed a baby wipe.

"Why don't you take a shower," Mama Reyes suggested, trying
valiantly to suppress a chuckle.  "You smell like fish."

"Thanks.  I think I'll go to the showers downstairs." He gave his
mother-in-law an awkward smile, then went back toward the living
room, passing the guest bathroom on the way.  He slowed when he
got to the door, cocking his head to listen despite Mama Reyes'
advice.  He heard Monica crying, then something that sounded like
it might be retching.  She shouldn't be alone, he thought.  He
tapped on the door then said, "Monica?  Monica honey?"

"Go away!" her muffled voice said through a stifled sob.  The
next sound John heard was more retching.

"Monica?"

"Go a-WAY!" she repeated.

Chastened, he went to the living room, grabbed the bag with his
new clothes, then looked at his father-in-law, who nodded
knowingly.  "I'll be in the shower next to the pool," he
announced.

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

Monica listened for the sound of the outer door closing, then
flushed the toilet.  How could she tell him?  How would she even
start?  Honey, while fantasizing about our next baby I almost let
our current one die?  And by the way, even if I was pregnant
before, I'm not now...  A knock on the door interrupted her.  "Go
away!" she shouted.

"Hija, it's me," her mother said.  "I know what you're feeling."

Yes, of course she would, Monica realized.  She always had.
Every childhood and adolescent trauma that Monica had wanted to
keep private would be drawn out by her loving Mama's warm
embrace.  Mama, who knew her daughter's mind better than she knew
it herself, would ask just the right questions, say just the
right things.  And then, after having a good cry on Mama's
shoulder, all would be right with Monica's world.

"I know you do, Mama," she sniffled.  "But give me a minute,
okay?"

"I have something for you," her mother said.  "I had Pedro bring
it up."

Monica grinned and reached for the doorknob.  Could her mother's
psychic ability be that good?  She opened the door a crack then
grabbed the box of tampons her mother passed through it.  Yes, it
could be that good.  It was even the right brand.

She found her mother in the bedroom, pulling the last of
William's limbs through a dinosaur jumpsuit.  Mama Reyes put
William on the floor then held out her arms for her daughter.
"Hija," Mama said in the low, comforting voice that Monica had
almost forgotten.

Monica went to her mother, then let loose with a torrent of sobs.
Even though she suspected her mother knew everything, she still
felt the need to tell her.  "I let it happen...  I wasn't paying
attention...  And William crawled away..."  She opened her eyes
to check on William, who was on the floor looking up at her.  "I
was thinking... I was thinking about..."  A new wave of sobs
shook the resolve out of her, and her voice squeaked out, "Oh,
Mama..."

Her mother patted Monica's back, and she started rocking her from
side to side just as she had when Monica was a child.  "I know, I
know..."  She led Monica to the bed, and sat her down.  "You
couldn't have helped it."

Monica sniffled, taking deep breaths in a futile attempt to
regain control.

Her father appeared at the doorway.  "I think William needs to
spend some time with his abuelo," he said stiffly.  He picked up
the confused child and as he left they could hear him cooing,
"Let's watch some soccer, Guillermo."

After her husband shut the door, Mama snorted.  "He thinks
listening to us will make the child too sensitive. Men!"

Monica laughed in spite of herself. Her mother always knew how to
make her smile. It was times like these that she'd missed her the
most since moving to the states.  And now, when she needed her
most, she was right here, willing to listen.

"Now, hija," her mother started, taking a box of kleenex from the
dresser.  "Tell me everything."

"You already know," Monica said.  "Don't you?" She dabbed the
tears from under her eyes then gave her nose a very unfeminine
blow.

Maria Reyes stroked her daughter's back.  "You want another
baby," she said.  "The natural way."

Monica nodded and took another kleenex.

"What you don't know, hija, is how many times I went through this
before adopting you.  I *do* understand, hija."

She'd never thought of that before.  Well, she'd never thought
about her parents having sex when she could help it, either.
"I'm sorry, Mama.  How did you stand it?"

"The first time was hardest," her mother conceded.  "Let's hope
that for you it will be the only time."

"Can you sense it?  Whether I was pregnant?"  Monica pulled on
her mother's hand, placing it over her abdomen.  She needed to
know.  She needed to know if she was grieving for a hope or for
an actual baby.

"No, hija, I can't tell," her mother said, pulling back her hand.
"And you shouldn't worry yourself over it.  Just put it behind
you and try again."

"But we weren't trying," Monica whined.  "If I tell John... Mama,
when we left Frank's motel, I forgot to pack my pills.  We
figured we'd find a doctor soon enough..."

"And you just haven't gotten around to it yet?"

Monica nodded.

"And John hasn't mentioned it?"

Monica nodded again.

"And he hasn't bought any condoms, has he?  Why do you think that
is, hija?"

Monica gasped.  "We haven't discussed it."

"Well?"

"I don't know, Mama.  The nuns, they wanted us to have a child
because we'd add to the Via.  John was against it then."

Mama Reyes stood up then reached out her hands to help Monica up.
"But now you're here.  And you're crying in the bathroom and your
husband doesn't know why."

"I know, Mama."  Monica let her mother help her up, then she
grabbed a kleenex and wiped the remnants of her tears.

Mama Reyes led her daughter into the hallway.  "He was worried
about you.  He didn't know if you were with William in the sea."

Monica's knees threatened to give out beneath her.  "Oh gawd,
Mama!  I didn't realize..."

"I know you didn't.  But now that you do, promise you'll tell
your husband everything?"

Monica nodded eagerly.

"Now let's get you something to settle that stomach."

***********
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

John took a long shower then dressed and went to the pool in
search of Gibson.  He found him at his post:  the storage area to
the rear of the pool.  He was sitting in a deck chair, intently
studying a plumbing diagram that he'd spread on his lap.

"Hello?"  John interrupted.

Gibson flushed and pulled the diagram further up over his lap.
"Hi," was all he said.

"Can you come up to the Reyes' flat for a break?"

"Now?" Gibson's voice cracked.  He glanced at his lap, shifted
his diagram, then looked back up at John.  "Can we wait a few
minutes?"

John pulled up a chair.  "Something you want to talk about?"

"Um, no," Gibson said.  He looked down, but John could see the
boy wasn't paying any attention to the diagram.

"You're sure?"  John studied Gibson's face, what he could see of
it, then looked over his shoulder.  On the opposite side of the
pool three beautiful young women in string bikinis lay on lounge
chairs.  Considering the effect the sight was having on him, he
could only imagine what it was doing to a sheltered 16-year-old
boy.  "Want to talk about baseball?"

"Baseball?  Why?" Gibson glowered at John, who was smirking
shamelessly.

John nodded, signaling toward the women.  "Looking at women in
bikinis doesn't bother you?"

"Um..." Gibson stammered.  "Do we have to talk about this?"

This was one of those conversations John had planned to have with
Luke.  He would be the understanding father, gently and patiently
leading his boy into adolescence, and from there into adulthood.
Luke would have been misinformed by his friends, of course, and
would need his father to set him straight.  And unlike his own
father, John would never balk at his boy's questions.  His boy
would be able to ask him anything.

Gibson obviously hadn't read the script.

"So what do you want to talk about?  Chess?" John smirked.

Gibson rolled his eyes.  "They know we're thinking about them.
They're laughing about it."

"Those girls?"  John looked over his shoulder, and one of the
girls waved.  He blushed and waved back.  "I think they're
flattered."

"I knew you wouldn't understand," Gibson said, pushing himself
lower into his chair.

"Oh, but I think I do," John said.  "I understand about having my
most private thoughts being overheard by psychics, at least."

Gibson scowled. "This is different."

"Look at it this way.  They already know, so why not just get up
and walk over there?  Go talk to them," John urged.

"What?" Gibson squawked.

"They won't bite."

If Gibson could have slunk lower in his chair he would have.  "I
don't think so."

"I think you want to."  John glanced at the unfolded paper in
Gibson's lap.  "Are you worried about what they'll see?"

"Well DUH!  That's why I'm not standing up," Gibson snorted.

"So you're going to stay here all day?"  John tried to hide his
amusement but after the day's ordeal it was a relief to encounter
such an ordinary problem, or as close to an ordinary problem as
Gibson was likely to have.

"I have a girlfriend, you know."  Gibson crossed his legs then
uncrossed them just as fast.

"It's natural to have thoughts about other women," John said.
Now we are back on the script, he thought. "I find those women
attractive too, but it doesn't have anything to do with Monica."

"So *you* talk to them!" Gibson said.  "I'll just stay right
here..."

John looked around.  There were a few other bikini-clad women
sitting alone, and several affectionate couples. "So this why you
wanted this job?  Eye candy?"

"Did you just come here to torture me?  Because if you did..."

John leaned back in his seat.  "No, actually.  I came here to
tell you that your foster brother nearly drowned today."

"What?" Gibson sat up, letting the paper slide off his lap.  "Is
he okay?"

Keeping his mind as blank as he could in case the sunbathers
couldn't be trusted, John said, "He's fine."

"And Monica?  She's upset, isn't she?" Gibson stood up.  "She was
crying."  Suddenly, he didn't have any problems walking in front
of the girls.

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

Back at the Reyes' apartment, John saw that Monica's emotional
outburst seemed to have subsided.  She sat near the window,
looking out at the sea, her face as calm as the blue surface
below.  But Gibson went to her and threw his arms around her
neck, ignoring William, who was in a playpen at her side.  "I'm
so sorry," he whispered.

Monica blinked back tears.  "It's okay, Gibson. It all worked
out."

But Monica could tell Gibson wasn't fooled.  It hadn't occurred
to her that he had been aware of her secret thoughts.  She had
tried to keep them at bay when he was near, but then there were
her dreams...

"If you say so."  He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a
gentle squeeze.

His sympathy flooded her mind.  She covered his hand with hers
and smiled gratefully, touched that he would be so understanding.
She had fretted so much about his happiness that it hadn't
occurred to her that he'd return the concern.  "You're a good
person, Gibson," she said, squeezing his hand.

He blushed, then turned and picked up William.  "You little
devil," he snickered.  "What did you do?"

Monica related the story of the wave and the trail of
disappearing bubbles, then John told the family about Shannon and
her dolphins, and how William could survive underwater.  In the
comfort of the luxury apartment seemed quite surreal to John, but
Gibson listened attentively, taking it in stride.

"There have been rumors about an underwater group," Papa Reyes
said thoughtfully.

"I heard about the sirenas from Lita," he said.  "They're part of
her history."  He pointed to his head then explained, "In her
mind.  It's all there."

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

At dinner, John could feel the tension around the table.  All
minds were focused on Monica, especially her mother's, and she
seemed nervous under their scrutiny.  John tried focusing his
mind but he wasn't able to eavesdrop.  The distractions of
dinnertime activities  interfered with his modest ability.
Seated next to her, it was hard for John to get a good look at
Monica, but he could see wasn't eating much.  Well, he reasoned,
someone who'd recently been throwing up wouldn't be hungry...

Then he suddenly lost his own appetite.  Could she be pregnant?
He consulted his mental calendar, which was a little jumbled.
Yes, she could be, he reckoned.  But why the crying?  Why so
nervous?  Didn't she know he'd be delighted?

He stood up and held out a hand to help her to her feet.
"Monica, it looks like you've eaten all you can.  Let's take a
walk on the beach."

All eyes were on Monica, even William's, as she accepted her
husband's invitation.  She followed him to the door, then turned
and took one last look at her mother, who gave her an encouraging
smile.  Yes, she would tell John everything, she decided.

The sun had just set, leaving the sky a luminous deep blue that
threw everything else into high relief.  They walked
hand-in-hand, silent for several minutes until John could feel
Monica's hand relaxing.  He stopped her and cupped her chin in
his hands.  "You can tell me anything," he said in a low voice
that was almost lost in the sound of the lapping waves.  "You
know that, don't you?"

Tears welled up in her eyes.  "I know."

"So...?" he prodded.

Instead of answering, she threw her arms around his waist and
hugged him tightly.  "Sometimes it's just too much."

He stroked her hair with one hand and made soothing circles over
her back with the other.  "How about starting with just a
little?" he whispered.  "How about starting with what you think I
already know?"

She laughed.  He probably knew it all, at least subconsciously.
Taking strength from her husband's gentle touch, she told him
everything and finished with the last piece, the one that
frightened her.  "I never realized how much I wanted a baby until
today."

Yes, it was what he'd suspected, at least over dinner.  He slid
an arm to her waist and guided her as they resumed walking along
the beach.  "I feel the same way about it," he said, choking back
tears.  "If you had been pregnant... and I don't think you
were... I'd have been delighted."

"You don't think I was?"

"No, I would have recognized the signs."  He looked up to the
stars that were becoming more numerous as the sky darkened.
"Barb had a lot of false alarms, especially when we were
trying... before Luke died..."

She let out a relieved sigh.  "Sometimes it's good to be the
second wife."

"Did you know how much we'd wanted a second child?" he asked.
"When you were investigating us, did that come up?

She shook her head.  "No, but seeing how devoted you were to
Luke..."  Luke. The ghost that had brought them together yet
always seemed to push John away.  She never brought him up,
always afraid of rubbing salt into a wound that would never heal.
And whenever John brought him up, Monica measured her response.
"I was afraid you wouldn't want another child *because* of him.
Especially now, with our situation being what it is.  You know,
money and all."

She paused, giving him a chance to reply, but he remained silent,
listening attentively.  He knows there's more, she realized.  Now
confident that he was receptive to the truth, she continued.
"And when we found out the Via *wanted* us to procreate, you were
against it."  Tears threatened to return as she thought about the
child she'd seen disappear into a wave.  "And you didn't want me
to get too attached to William."

"I thought we'd be delivering him to Mulder and Scully when we
got here."  He pulled her a little closer then said, "But a baby
of our own?  It's a little soon, but if it happens..." He kissed
her on the cheek.  "If it happens because *we* want it, that's
different."

"So you wouldn't mind if our child should grow up as a member of
the Via?"

Now it was his turn to gauge her willingness to hear the truth.
"Monica, what do we really know about them?"  He paused, studying
her reaction.  Her lips trembled slightly, but her eyes probed
his as if eager for more.  Yes, he decided, she was ready to hear
it all.  "We know what they want us to know.  They have the upper
hand, and they've made us indebted to them.  If they're up to
something, how would we find out?  How would we figure out the
truth?"

"Gibson trusts them," Monica said.  She couldn't help getting
defensive.  He wasn't just criticizing a group of odd nuns now.
He was now casting suspicion on her parents, both adoptive and
biological, and her biological brother.

"But Gibson has his own agenda.  True, he thinks of us as parents
now, but how many times now have we found out that he knows more
than he's letting on?  He knew about the sirenas, Monica."

They stopped walking and John put his hands on her shoulders.
"Do you know why Mulder and Scully weren't here when we arrived?"

Mulder and Scully?  What did they have to do with this?  Monica
knit her brow in thought.  "What are you getting at, John?"

"You know what I think?  I think they're dead.  I think that's
why William was brought to us and not to them."  He paused to
give his theory time to sink in, then said, "And if they're dead,
who's going to find out what the government's up to in
Washington?"

"A.D. Skinner?" Monica suggested, much like a child putting
forward a sketchily reckoned answer to a math problem.

"If they haven't gotten to him too.  But how will we find out?"

"We could send a message..."

John sighed.  This was going to be more difficult than he
thought.  "Wouldn't it be better if we could find out for
ourselves?  And not just take someone else's word for it?"

"You mean leave the Via?  Go back to Washington?"  She blinked
back tears at the thought of leaving her many families,
biological, adoptive and foster.  But if it came to it, she knew
that she would follow John anywhere, even if it meant leaving
everyone else she loved.

"That's exactly what I mean." John answered.

They circled the tiny island twice, discussing A.D. Skinner, the
Via, their future children, and their future children's future
with the Via.  And by the time they arrived back at the entrance
to the Reyes' hotel, they'd come to a conclusion:  They would
return to D.C. to search for the truth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Monica's parents were not happy with the news. Neither was
Gibson.  He wanted to stay on the island, even if it meant losing
his foster parents.  They hadn't expected that.  They assumed
he'd want to go to Washington and live with them.

William was scooting around the Reyes' apartment, trying to get
into everything, but being thwarted at every turn by his foster
brother.  Gibson scooped up the holy terror just as he started
going for a large potted palm, and held the squirming toddler
tightly.  "And William wants to stay here too," Gibson announced.

"Come on," John snorted.  "He can't possibly--"

"It's true," Papa Reyes said.  He moved behind Gibson and put an
arm around him.  "The boys are better off here, with their own
kind."

Their own kind.  Monica felt as if she'd been punched in the
stomach.  Wasn't being loved more important?

John, sensing his wife's distress, reached for William.  Gibson
let go of the child, but William set up a squawl and tried to
extricate himself from John's grip.  John passed him to Monica,
who had no more luck than he had in calming the child.  She put
him on the floor, then watched in dismay as the child crawled
back to Gibson and reached out his arms to be picked up.

"Ebba!" William said.  "Ebba!  Ebba!"

"Do you know what he means when he says that?" John quizzed
Gibson.

Papa Reyes answered on the boy's behalf.  "It's his own word.  It
means people like himself."

"So, when he said 'ebba' as he was going toward the ocean--"
Monica gasped.

"Yes, he sensed Shannon and her group."  Gibson picked up
William, then cooed at him.  "Ebba, ebba, ebba."

Monica's mother went to Gibson and easily took William from him.
She turned to face her daughter and said, "You can leave, of
course.  But if you take him, can you really guarantee his safety
the way we can?"

"And can you stay one step ahead of him the way I can?"  Gibson
asked.

Monica's knees began to give way.  She knew what Gibson meant.
He could have kept the child away from the ocean, and she
couldn't.  What other trouble would William get into, especially
after he started walking?

"You love these boys like they were your own," her father said,
in a gentler voice than she'd ever heard from him.  "You want
what's best for them, don't you?"

"Of course, Papa," she said, holding onto John's waist for
support.  John responded by draping an arm over her shoulders and
giving her a reassuring hug.

"Before you make up your mind, there's something else you should
see," her father said.  "You want the truth about the Via?  Come
with us tomorrow and we'll show you something that will change
your mind."

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

That night, Monica and John agreed to stay at the hotel.  They
insisted on keeping William with them, but relented when Gibson
said he wanted to stay in the Reyes' penthouse.

"Gibson's making his choice," John said as they shut the door
behind them.  "He wants to stay with them now."

Monica carried William to the crib that had been set up for them.
"William seems to want to, too."

John locked the door then went to the crib and ran a hand over
William's head.

"Papa," William said.

At the sound of this magical word, John picked up the child and
held him close.  "You calling me Papa?  After the way you acted
before?"

William giggled.  "Papa!"

John paced the length of the room, stroking the child's back and
talking baby-talk to him.

"Manipulative little bugger, isn't he?" Monica scowled.  "I'll be
in the shower if you need me."

Before John could answer, she'd shut the bathroom door behind
her.  "Well, William, it's just you and me while Miss Hormones
gets ready for bed.  What do you want to talk about?"

"Ba!" William cried out.

"Ball? You want your ball?  Or your bear?"  John called down to
the gift shop for a stuffed animal then set William on the bed.
"You want to play?"

He took off his socks, put them over his hands, then started a
sock-puppet play for the child.

"I dunno, Monica, William seems to like us," the left hand said.

The other hand answered in a high-pitched voice.  "Yes, he does.
Let's stay here with him."

The left hand answered, "On the other hand, William likes *your*
parents too."

"Who wouldn't?" His right hand answered.  "I had a very happy
childhood with them, you know."

"They have money and they own this fabulous hotel and they can
read minds.  What child *wouldn't* want to live here?" The left
hand added.

The right hand gave William a pinch on the cheek and said, "I wuv
this widdle guy just wike he was my own!"

The left hand gave the child an equal pinch on the other cheek
and answered, "Me too."

The two hands then proceeded to tickle William, who laughed and
kicked until they heard a knock at the door.  "There's your bear,
little man," John said.

He went to the door and accepted the stuffed teddy bear.  As he
turned around he felt William's hands on his legs, pulling
himself up to reach for the bear.  "How did you get over here so
fast?" John asked.

"Ba!" was all William said.

John pulled the tags off the bear then handed it to the child,
who stood unsteadily to take it.  "You ready to walk?  I think
you are!"

John set the tags on the dresser then took one of William's
hands, leaving the other free to grasp the teddy bear, and walked
him back to the bed.  "You faker! You've been ready to walk for
weeks!"

William giggled and held out the bear for John to take.  Then,
just as he had most afternoons while Monica was at work, John put
William in his crib and held the bear over him, putting on a play
and telling stories until William fell asleep.


When Monica emerged from the shower she found John asleep on
their bed and William sleeping soundly in his crib, nestled
against a new bear.  She smiled.  Her father thought of
everything.  Wondering what else her father had ordered, she
pulled on the dresser drawers, and found his and hers flannel
pajamas.  Papa, she scolded.  Your little girl likes silk!  As
she set John's pajamas on the top of the dresser, she noticed the
tags from the bear.  She was about to toss them into the trash
when she noticed something written on one:  "W.S. 202-555-1013."

She knelt on the bed and shook John's shoulder.  "John?  Did you
call someone in Washington?"

"Wha--?"  It took him a moment to realize where he was, but he
woke up when he saw the number on the tag.  "What's this?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."  Monica sat back,
cross-legged, letting the towel she'd wrapped around herself sag
until it barely covered her breasts.

John sat up on one elbow then took the tag from her hand.  "W.S.?
Walter Skinner?"

"You didn't call?"

"No, I didn't even see this," he said.  "Should I?"

"Why would Papa want you to call him?" Monica wondered aloud.
"He doesn't want us going there."

John shook his head.  "I ordered the bear myself, from the gift
shop."

"Someone in the hotel wants us to leave?"  Monica couldn't
believe her parents could be fooled by a traitor.  "Who?"

"One way to find out," John said, reaching for the phone.  He
dialed the number, then held the phone so Monica could listen
with him.

They heard a mechanical voice reading an answering machine
message: "You have reached the offices of Investigative Services,
Inc.  Our private detectives are all former members of the FBI,
CIA, and police forces across the country.  If you have an
on-going case, please press one.  If you know your party's
extension, please press two.  If you have a question about..."
John sighed and pressed zero.

An operator's voice came on the line.  "Answering service, can I
help you?"

"Yeah, does Walter Skinner work for your outfit?"  John demanded.

"I can't tell you that.  I'm just the answering service,"  The
voice responded coldly.

John hung up.  "Yeah, he works there."

"So what do we do next?" Monica asked.

"It seems that someone here wants us to leave."  Now fully awake,
John couldn't help noticing the cleavage showing above Monica's
fluffy white hotel towel.  He tugged on the towel, hinting at
what he thought they should do next.  "Or wants us to think
someone wants us to leave so we'll stay out of spite."  He moved
his hand away from the towel and moved it upward toward her neck
then pulled her toward him for a kiss.  "Either way, there's
nothing we can do about it tonight.  Might as well just..."

She pushed him away.  "I'm not in the mood, John."



CHAPTER THIRTY

The next morning they joined a tourist bus headed to the
mainland.  Monica's parents refused to tell them where they were
going, and Gibson kept mum as well.  When they reached their
destination Monica recognized it instantly:  Chichen Itza, one of
the most famous ruins of Mayan civilization.  She'd been here
years ago on a class trip.

(Quotations taken from:
http://www.internet-at-work.com/hos_mcgrane/chichen/chichen_index
.html)

The tour guide's voice came on the bus's P.A. system:  "Our first
stop will be the Ossuary, built 800-900 A.D in the Maya Toltec
Architectural Style. Like the Pyramid of Kukulcan there are four
sets of steps with large serpents' heads resting on the ground
and atop the pyramid is a high temple decorated with Chaac masks
on its walls. There are pillars with masks of the rain god found
at the base of the pyramid."

"This structure covers a deep cavern which leads to another urban
center outside of Chichen Itza. There is a shaft cut into the
center of the pyramid which archeologists say represents the
entrance to the World of the Dead--where both the Maya paradise
as well as its inferno were represented."

"Several tombs with rich offerings of precious stones and copper
have been found inside the shaft."

The bus pulled to a stop and the tourists disembarked.  "Well,
here we are," Papa Reyes said proudly.  "Your friend Rosalita's
ancestral home."

John thought back to what little Lita had told them, or rather
what Gibson had said on behalf of the reticent teen.  "Toltecs."
The name sounded familiar.

"They were brutal," Monica reminded him.  "Cruel overlords."

Gibson read from a book handed to him by the tour guide:  "The
divine leader of the Toltecs had been a legendary chieftain.
Generations of later Toltec chieftains used the name Quetzalcoatl
to mean 'wise leader who enjoys the favor of the Gods.' Part of
the Quetzalcoatl legend claimed that he promised to return and
restore the Toltec kingdom of Tula one day."

"Let me guess," John snorted.  "2012?"

Gibson shrugged.  "Who knows?"

John held his hand out for the book then read aloud, "The
Platform of Skulls, a T-shaped stone structure sixty meters long
and twelve meters wide, was dedicated to the glory of military
conquest and ritual sacrifice. It was here that prisoners' heads
as well as those of other sacrificial victims were displayed for
all the inhabitants to view."  He lowered the book then said,
"These people were Lita's ancestors?"

Monica grabbed the book and read to the end of the page:  "During
the excavation of the platform several human skulls as well as a
statue of the Chac-Mool were discovered."  She looked up.  "They
sound charming."
Gibson grabbed the book.  "Lita's trying *not* to be like them.
That's the whole point."

Papa Reyes put an arm out as if to embrace the whole group.
"Let's go.  They're waiting for us."

Monica looked over at the tourists gathered around their guide
and started in their direction, but her father ushered them
towards the opposite direction. They entered the pyramid then
descended down a series of small steps.  Both John and Monica had
to bow their heads as they wound their way down.  At a landing
Papa Reyes pressed on a panel, opening a dimly-lit passageway
going the opposite direction from the main tunnel.

At the bottom they came to a large cavern that had a familiar
smell.

"Magnetite smelting," John said.  "How many of these operations
are there?"

"Need to know, John.  Need to know," Papa Reyes said.

John shivered.

"Cold?" Monica asked, rubbing his arm.

John took her hand.  "No, just...  Let's see what we came here
for."

"Nobody in the Via knows everything," Papa Reyes said.  "Don't
take it so personally."

They wended their way through a series of tunnels, coming at last
to a large  cavern, decorated with brightly painted carved Mayan
symbols on all the walls.  Discreet lights placed at regular
intervals near the ceiling cast a warm light over the occupants.
At the center of the room stood a bank of computers set into a
circular console.

Gibson broke from the group, shouting, "Lita!"

A high-back chair at the center console swivelled, and the short,
shy girl with the heavily Mayan features smiled at her boyfriend.
But instead of running to greet her, Gibson stopped in his
tracks.

Lita stood up with difficulty, then came toward them with the
characteristic waddle of a very pregnant woman.

John shot Gibson an accusing glance.

"What?  It's not mine!  I swear!" the boy said.

"No," Lita said, patting her swollen belly. "It's mine."

"Oh no, not this again," John grumbled.  Another William?
Conceived through some unnatural intervention?

Monica thought the same thing, then instinctively hugged William
closer to her.  As wrong as this genetic manipulation was, she
couldn't help loving the child it produced.

"Gibson wanted to," Lita said proudly.  "But he wouldn't, out of
respect for you."

"He should have been restraining himself out of respect for you,"
John retorted.  "And for himself."

"I knew you wouldn't want me to make a baby just for the Via,"
Gibson explained.

Lita pulled up a seat.  "I hope you don't mind. My feet are a
little swollen."

Gibson bent to kiss her cheek then whispered, "I was so worried
about you."

She squeezed his hand.  "We were worried about you, too."

Monica hoisted William onto her hip then put her free hand on
Lita's belly.  "We're even more worried about you now."

"Don't be," the girl said.  "All is as it should be."

The others gathered around her, then Mother Catherine appeared
from around the console.  She laid a comforting hand on the
girl's shoulder then said, "I know you think she's too young, but
we have so little time, and Lita's so special."

John's eyes narrowed at the thought of intentionally impregnating
a teen, especially this shy, special teen.  "So you did what? You
cloned her?  Inseminated her?  I thought all that stuff was
against the church's teachings."

"We did what we had to."  Catherine gave Lita's shoulder a
squeeze then moved to hug Monica.

Monica took a step backward.  "What have you done?"

Catherine smiled benignly at William but kept her distance.  "We
knew we'd made the right choice.  You're the perfect mother for
him."

"And what of Lita's child?  Will she be growing up in a nunnery?"
John asked.  He put a protective arm around Monica's shoulders
and glared at the mother superior.

Mother Catherine bristled.  "That's entirely up to Rosalita."

"I'm happy where I am," Lita said, patting her belly.  "And so is
my baby."

John was furious.  The veins in his neck throbbed to the surface
as he asked, "How could you do this?  She's a child herself!  How
could you--"

"I'm eighteen," Lita interrupted.

"What?" Monica gasped.

"She's always been a little sheltered for her age," Mother
Catherine said with obvious affection.  "And very innocent."

"Is she still innocent?" John asked pointedly.

Before anyone could answer, William started to squirm in Monica's
arms.  "Ebba!" he cried out.

Lita reached for the child, but Monica held him tightly.  "Ebba?"
Monica asked William.  "Lita is an ebba?"

"Ebba!" William repeated.

"She won't hurt him, if that's what you're thinking," Gibson
said.

Monica had to admit to herself that protecting William had become
an instinct for her.  She hadn't been thinking anything.
Reluctantly, she let Lita take William, then watched as William
looked into Lita's face with the same bliss he used to reserve
for Scully.

John gave her waist a tug, prompting to sigh and rest her head on
his shoulder.  "How could something that looks so right be so
wrong?"

"I don't want to take your place," Lita assured them.  "My own
baby needs me more."

"If there's no father, I'd say so," John snorted.

"There's a father," Gibson said defensively.  "And she has me."

This is too much, John thought, knowing full well that Gibson and
the others would overhear him.  Gibson playing papa?

"She will grow up knowing who her father is," Lita assured them.
"She will know everything about her ancestors."

"So that's what this is about?  Preserving your heritage?" John
asked, looking from Lita to Mother Catherine to Monica's parents
for answers.

"Preserving our future," Mother Catherine insisted.  "The future
of mankind."

Mama Reyes noticed her daughter's reaction and reached for
William.  "Come to your abuela, William."  She bounced William in
her arms and smiled at him.  "The next generation of the Via,
they have a special destiny."

"William too?" Monica glared at her mother.

Mother Catherine clasped her hands, adopting the preaching pose
they'd seen many times at the monastery.  She cleared her throat
to get everyone's attention, then began her sermon.  "The people
who created him and the others like him, they had other plans for
these children.  They want them to collaborate with the enemy, to
form an alliance with the devil.  But under our guidance, they
will understand right from wrong, good from evil."

"And impregnating virgin teens is right?" John screeched.

"John," Monica warned, but Mother Catherine waved her hand
dismissively.

"It's all right, Monica.  We knew he wouldn't understand.  It's
why we kept this secret from you, why we've kept the secret from
almost everyone, even some people of the Via."  Mother Catherine
stroked the top of William's head, her gnarled fingers passing
over his downy hair with the affection she seemed to reserve only
for children.  "And now that you know, you must realize how much
William needs you to stay here with him.  He needs to grow up
here, protected by magnetite and surrounded by people like
himself.  But he needs parents too.  Righteous parents with sound
values."

Monica fought back tears.  "Like himself?  You don't mean us, do
you?"  She clutched John for support and glared defiantly at
Mother Catherine.

"You belong here, too, daughter."  Mother Catherine left William
and stood before John and Monica.  "You are both welcome to stay
with the Via as long as you wish.  We will never reneg on that
promise."

"But we can't take William if we leave, is that it?" John asked.

Mama Reyes kissed the top of William's head then looked into her
daughter's tearful eyes.  "The question for you is whether
staying here is what's best for you.  The Via will watch over you
in Washington, and we could use another contact there, but
William..."  She smiled and looked down at William's face.  He
smiled in return as if understanding everything.  "William must
stay here.  We'd be happy to keep him with us."

Lita returned to the computer console, hit a few buttons then
moved aside so her guests could see the screen.  "See that light?
The blinking red light?"

John and Monica leaned over the screen.  They saw a map of the
Yucatan, with a red light blinking over Chichen Itza.  "What's
this?" John asked.

"It's this cavern?" Monica looked over the rest of the console
but nothing stood out.

"It's William," Lita announced.  "He's been microchipped."

"What?" John leaned closer to the screen, as if it might give
away its secrets.  But it only continued blinking.

Mother Catherine followed them to the console then stroked
William's cheek.  "He got it when he received that shot.  The
other babies from the project were microchipped too, one by one."

"I've hacked into the GPS system," Lita announced proudly.  "From
here we can track William or any of the others."

"And so can whoever microchipped him," Papa Reyes said, a stoic
sadness in his voice.

Monica looked from Mother Catherine to John to her parents, then
asked the obvious.  "Can't you remove it?"

"That would require a complete blood transfusion," Mother
Catherine answered.  "And his blood type is *quite* rare."

John snorted. "Part alien, you mean."

"Yes, that's what she means," Papa Reyes said.  "And that's why
he must stay here, where he's surrounded by people dedicated to
protecting him."

"He and the others like him," Monica's mother added.

John looked steadily at Monica's parents. "And if we take him
with us anyway?"

Mother Catherine fingered the cross that hung around her neck.
"Whoever has been doing this, they know that the Via has been
rescuing these babies and they've used the microchips to find our
hide-outs."

"So isn't keeping him here a big mistake?"  John's brows narrowed
as he tried to figure out the logic of these mysterious people.
"Wouldn't everyone be better off if he were in Washington?"

"This hide-out won't be attacked," Papa Reyes assured them.
"It's a national treasure, and then there's the island...  It's
well defended."

Mother Catherine interrupted before Papa Reyes could elaborate.
"We watch out for ourselves," she said.

John grinned, remembering the day Mother Catherine shot a super
soldier in the forehead.  That had been the first time he'd seen
what a magnetite bullet could do, and the first time they
realized how well-defended the Via was.  Behind the monastery's
magnetite-laced iron gate, they were safe from the super
soldiers.  Later, they discovered the smelting operation and the
Via's distribution network for bullets.  Now John wondered what
else the Via was capable of.

"Well, I think Washington is the best place for William right
now," John said.  "If they won't attack landmarks here, they
won't attack them there."

The room went silent except for a loud sigh from Papa Reyes.
"John," he said finally.  "Do you have *any* idea how many super
soldiers live in Washington?"

Monica's mother slid her hand along William's spine then added,
"If they could find him in Montana..."

John and Monica both blanched at the thought.  As long as the
implant was in his spine, William's pain had been intense and
devastating for them to see.  Would whoever did it try it again?

"Yes, they will most certainly try again," Mother Catherine
answered their thoughts.  "If not that, then some other
technology to turn him to their side.  So you see, he must stay
here."


CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

"But we must leave you now," Papa Reyes announced.  "We have to
catch up with our tour group."

Gibson looked longingly at Lita until John said, "Go ahead. Kiss
her!"

The boy blushed then gave his girlfriend a kiss on the cheek.
"See you soon?" he whispered.

She patted her belly then smiled up at him, communicating with
her mind instead of with words.  He seemed satisfied with the
message then joined his foster family as they made their way
toward an exit.

Monica was waiting by the door, looking over the hieroglyphics on
the walls.  "Do any of you know what these mean?" she asked.

"No," her father said, waving her toward the door.

Resisting his attempt to usher her out, she studied the pictorial
writing, her brow knit in concentration.  "It says here that the
Toltec people are the special ones, that they are destined to be
the rulers over..."

Her mother gave her a shove from behind.  "Our bus must be
waiting for us."

They moved quickly but silently through the tunnel, its low
ceiling forcing John, Monica, and Papa Reyes to duck.  Finally,
they climbed to the surface and found their group standing near a
natural pool surrounded by lush vegetation.  Their guide said,
"It would seem that the early inhabitants preferred to offer
semi-precious stones, metal and clay objects to the gods of
water. All of the offerings which were found were either broken
or damaged as a part of the sacrificial ceremony. The objects and
the occasional human victims (young girls, boys or warriors) were
thrown to the cenote from the platform next to the altar."

The little group was silent on the way back to Isla Mujeres,
Gibson sitting between the Reyes in the back seat of the bus.  In
front of them,  Monica leaned her head against the window,
sighing periodically over William, who slept in her arms.  Next
to her, John mulled over the implications of this latest news.
William's microchip.  Could it be removed with dialysis?  And if
his blood type is so rare, why wasn't it an issue when his
implant was removed?  Had they just let him bleed in surgery?
And if he and Monica could have it removed, how long would it be
before someone implanted a new one?  Could they avoid all
vaccinations?  They'd have to home-school him.  And if they kept
him at home, how normal would that be?  John would have to find
some magnetite fencing.  Where could he find it?  And money.
Could they survive on one salary?  If he went to work for Skinner
what would his income be?  Maybe he should be the one to stay at
home, and Monica should take Follmer's offer to work in the
Crimes Against Children division, if the offer was still open.
If Follmer was still alive.

When they arrived back at the Reyes' hotel, John saw he needn't
have worried about Follmer.  His former rival was sitting in the
lobby, his lanky legs thrown over an ottoman in a studied casual
pose.  But as soon as he saw the newlyweds and their family,
Follmer was on his feet.

"Brad," Monica gasped.  She handed William to her mother, sending
the silent command for her to take William and Gibson to the
apartment.  When her foster children had disappeared into the
elevator, she turned and glared at her former lover.  "What are
you doing here?"

Brad glanced toward the elevator then said, "Why do you think I'd
want to hurt them?  I've only ever helped you."

"Have you?" Monica countered, taking John's hand.  Though Brad's
expression seemed sincere, she felt the need to show him she was
John's wife now, and didn't need his help.

"When you let me, yes," Brad eyed John, as if he were the sole
source of Monica's mistrust.  "And I'm here to help you now."

"Another job offer?" John sneered.  The last time they'd seen him
he had offered John a job at Quantico and tried to convince
Monica to take a position in the D.C. field office.  Neither job
would permit them to spend much time at FBI headquarters.  John
was still suspicious that whatever job Follmer might offer them
would be designed to keep them from finding out the truth they'd
been searching for in the X-Files office.

Brad nodded to the desk clerk, then glanced at the security guard
and bellhop who were standing nearby.  "Can we talk someplace
else? Away from prying minds?"

Monica looked to John, silently asking his permission to hear him
out.  John rolled his eyes but couldn't resist his wife's silent
plea.  "Let's take a walk on the beach," he suggested.

They started from the fancy hotels of North Beach, walking
southward toward the island's tiny town and their cottage.

"This certainly is idyllic," Brad mused.  "I can see why you took
so long returning our call."

"*Our* call?" John repeated.

Monica knitted her brow and asked, "When did you call?"

"You didn't get the message?" Brad asked.

John and Monica exchanged cautious glances.  They knew the Via
had a leak somewhere, but they didn't think information might be
blocked.

"Uh-oh," Brad said.  "Trouble in Paradise?"

"Mind if we ask the questions," John snapped.

Brad held out his arms in a gesture of openness.  "Ask away."

Monica stopped walking, which caused the two men to stop walking
too.  "We already did," she said, shooting him a withering glare.

Brad took a deep breath.  "Okay.  Walter Skinner and I sent you a
message via the private detective your parents hired."

"How long ago?" John demanded.

"Two weeks.  Maybe longer," Brad guessed.

"And the message?" Monica crossed her arms then stepped away from
a wave that washed over her feet.

Brad resumed walking, leading them away from the water's edge.
"Walt and I took early retirement... Well, *Walt* retired," Brad
corrected himself.  "I was terminated."  He chuckled slightly,
though his discomfort at the admission was obvious to the two
investigators.  "Mis-use of agency funds.  Seems someone in the
travel office couldn't help mentioning that we were searching for
Agents Mulder and Scully... and you two of course."

John shook his head.  "Agent Harrison."

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

"I'm sure she meant no harm," Monica said.

Brad smiled at his former lover's charitable attitude, a look
that was not lost on her husband.  "She got fired too.  Loose
lips sink ships and all that," Brad said.

"Poor Leyla!" Monica pulled on John's hand as if he could fix the
situation.

Brad snorted.  "Poor Leyla is doing just fine.  I found her a new
job, and she's getting even more money now."

Monica heaved a sigh of relief.  "That was big of you, Brad."

"She's my assistant now," he said, blushing.  "At Walt's agency."

Monica understood his blush instantly.  Still Brad, she thought.
Getting involved with a subordinate.  She suspected subordinates
might be the only kind of woman Brad could ever relate to.  She
gave John's hand a squeeze.  Unlike Brad, John could appreciate
an equal.

"And have her lips tightened up?" John couldn't resist asking.

Brad smirked.  "I can see why you were fast-tracked at the
bureau.  It's your tact."

Monica silenced both men with a glance.  "Can we get back to the
message?"

"The message was," Brad said.  "Call us when you're ready to come
back.  You can work for us, at Walt's agency."

Monica looked anxiously to John for guidance, but he merely
pursed his lips in thought.

Brad continued, "When you called, we thought you were ready.
You're not?"

John brushed a few stray strands from Monica's face, then when
they blew back across her eyes he tucked them behind her ear.
She leaned her cheek into his palm, and her eyes searched his.
Were they ready?  The day before they thought they were.

Brad looked away, still uncomfortable around the newlyweds
despite his own newfound happiness.

"You want both of us to work there?" John asked, checking his
rival's expression carefully.

"Both, or just one.  It's up to you," Brad kicked at a piece of
driftwood.  "Both of you are still on the FBI payroll, you know.
Officially, you've been detailed to long-term undercover
assignments."  He arched an eyebrow then added, "Which isn't
entirely false, n'est pas?"

Monica wondered how much Brad knew.  Many times she'd seen him
elicit confessions with just this sort of tactic.  It was he who
had helped her hone her own investigative techniques.

But before she could answer, John interrupted.  "We're taking
care of a couple of endangered children.  Something I'm sure you
can appreciate."

"Indeed I can," Brad answered, making no sign that he understood
John's underlying message.  "I admire what you're doing, and if
you want to continue... But you should know, that as far as the
Via is concerned, your job here is finished.  And you have to
admit, those kids hardly need your protection now."

Monica bristled at the suggestion.  "They need parents," she
insisted.  "Loving parents."

"Yes, they do," Brad agreed.  "But are you sure you're the
*right* parents for them?"

"If the Via agreed with you, we would have gotten your message,"
Monica protested.  "They think we're the right parents."

Brad cut her off with a wave of his hand.  "I can see you're very
comfortable here, and with two children to care for..."  His
expression softened as he looked into Monica's eyes.  She
blushed, knowing he would remember their conversations about
children.  "It's what you've always wanted.  I understand that."

"Why do I hear a 'but' coming?" John interjected.

"But," Brad drawled.  "Have you considered that this was all a
little too easy?  A little too pat?"

"And your job offer isn't?" Monica retorted.  She knew where this
was going, and she didn't like it.  This tack would strike a
nerve with John, and somewhere under layers of maternal
affection, she had the same nerve.

"If you don't want to work with me, I can help you can go back to
the bureau.  Not the X-Files office, of course, but I still have
friends in the Crimes Against Children division..."

"How convenient," Monica sneered.

"I'm offering you a way out," Brad said.  "No strings attached.
Has the Via done that?"

She had to admit it.  The Via had sucked them in further and
further until they weren't even in the U.S. anymore.  They
followed of their own free will, but only because they felt they
had no other choices.  "No strings attached?"  She didn't buy
that promise.

Brad nodded as he watched her face tell him all he needed to
know.  "And you can bring the children with you.  My contacts can
help you with the adoptions."

John scowled. "And what do you get out of it?"

"A good investigator, maybe two," Brad said.  "And the
satisfaction of knowing I've helped out some old friends."

John snorted.

"And contacts in the Via," Brad added.  "We need them.  They need
us.  We have a common enemy."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Monica sighed heavily,
suspecting more machinations in Brad's devious mind than he was
letting on.

"You might say that," Brad answered.  "And we're both looking for
Mulder and Scully."

At the mention of their friends' names, John and Monica exchanged
glances.  The Via was looking for them?  Why hadn't anyone
mentioned it to them?  Or was Brad fibbing... again?

"Give us a minute," John said, leading Monica toward the water.
When they were out of earshot, he whispered, "Think he's telling
the truth?"

"He's fooled me before, John," Monica reminded him.  She glanced
over her shoulder, eyeing him warily.  He was toeing the sand,
his hands casually thrust into his pants pockets as if their
conversation had no more import than a sidebar at a church
social.  "But to quote John Doggett, there's only one way to find
out."

John nodded.  "Go to D.C."  He took a deep breath then asked the
$64,000 question.  "With or without the children?"

Monica choked back tears and when her lower lip trembled, she
pulled her lips together into a long tight line.

John wiped his nose as he fought back his own tears.  "It's up to
you."

"I think it should be up to Gibson," she said.  "But as for
William...  John, there's a disorder that babies get when they
are separated from their parents, or go through a series of
foster homes."

"What's that?"  John asked.  Despite his years of training, he'd
never heard of this.

"It's called Attachment Disorder.  They lack that stability, so
they grow up either clingy and looking for love everywhere, or
they fail to develop attachments..."

"Ahhh," John said.  He didn't know the diagnosis but he knew the
profile.  "They become sociopaths."

Monica nodded.  "And considering William's abilities and his
status within the Via..."

John looked at her in horror.  Either she was correct in fearing
this baby's potential or she was rationalizing herself into
endangering him unnecessarily.  Neither possibility was very
comforting.

"And Gibson can stay one step ahead of him," she added, smiling.
"I think between us we can keep him out of trouble, at least
until he's old enough to go to school."

"So it all hinges on Gibson?"  John wasn't sure he'd leave a
toddler's future in the hands of a teen, but considering recent
developments, it seemed to be the Via's way.

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

Gibson agreed to meet them at their cottage, and as Brad stood
outside, John and Monica explained their dilemma.  By now it was
dark, and Gibson listened intently under the light of the bare
bulb hanging over their kitchen table.  From the outside it might
have looked like Gibson was being interrogated, but it was the
reverse.  He asked the questions, especially about attachment
disorder.

"So you see, Gibson," Monica concluded.  "We want to take William
with us, but we can't do it without your help.

Gibson tried to avoid her eyes by looking into John's, but he
found no comfort there either.  John said, "I know you can tell
what we hope you'll say, but we want you to consult *your* heart
Gibson.  We're asking a lot of you..."

Gibson interrupted, "I want to go with you."

Monica looked into John's smiling face then turned toward Gibson.
"You've made us so happy..."

"But William has to stay here," Gibson announced.

"But..." John began, but Gibson cut him off again.

"I want to help you find Mulder and Scully.  And how can you do
that when you can't even tell who the aliens are?"  Gibson paused
to let his news sink in, then continued, "And I don't think your
parents will let William grow up to be a sociopath.  They didn't
let that happen to you, did they?"

John smiled and glanced appreciatively at Monica.  "No, she's
quite the opposite."

"They were wonderful parents," Monica admitted.

"William needs to be with the others of his kind," Gibson said.
"All those children will grow up together and be the leaders of
the Via." He packed his gun and laptop in his backpack then
walked to the door. "But they don't need us here.  Our place is
in Washington."

"What?  Now?" Monica gasped.  "Don't you want to say goodbye?"

Gibson shook his head.  "I don't think that would be a good
idea."

"But what about our stuff?" Monica started looking around the
cottage, which she'd done her best to make homey.  But after
taking a mental inventory, her gaze returned to John's face.
"It's not really ours, is it?"

"It's ours," John assured her.  "But we can leave it behind."  He
reached into their secret compartment, where he kept the computer
disk with the names of the Via members.  "It's gone," he said,
looking accusingly at Gibson.

"I don't have it," Gibson said.  "And anyway, we shouldn't take
it with us.

Monica put a hand on Gibson's shoulder. "He's right, John.  We
can't risk letting it get into the wrong hands."

John nodded his head as he thought over the risks, then opened
the door.  "Well then, let's go."

When Brad saw them he arched his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Just us," John announced.  "The three of us."



CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

They followed Follmer to a small dock, where a boat awaited them.
They could barely make out the figures on the boat's deck, but
one was unmistakable.  A large wolf was silhouetted in front of
the rising full moon and was soon joined by a tall lanky man.

Monica rushed to the boat, crying out "Frank!"

Her brother ran to meet her and took her into his arms.  "I'm so
glad you made it here," Frank said.  He pulled back, smiling
broadly, then addressed Follmer.  "So this is why you called to
ask us to wait?"

Brad nodded.

The boat's captain hollered from the deck, "No time for this!
They're coming!"

Once on board, Brad asked, "What did you hear?"

But the captain and Frank refused to answer his question.
Instead, Frank passed around life vests as the captain steered
the boat away from the dock.

"The sirenas," Gibson whispered to John.  "They sent a warning."

Less than a mile from shore, the pilot cut the engine, then the
lights.  "What the--" John demanded, but the captain shushed him.

"They're coming," the captain whispered.  "Wait..."

At first the only sounds were the gentle laps of the waves that
slapped the side of the boat, but gradually they could make out
another sound.  One that sent a shiver down their spines.

Helicopters.

Monica grabbed John's arm.  "We have to go back!" she whispered.

"NO!" John hissed, and when she tried to make a break for the
side.  He held her by the waist as the helicopters gradually came
into view.  "There's nothing we can do," he whispered.  "And
remember Lita.  She survived.  So did Catherine."  Monica
remained rigid, a slight sniffle the only indication of her
emotions.  John added, "He'll be fine.  *They'll* be fine."

Then suddenly, from the top of the Reyes' hotel, they saw a
bright burst of orange light.

The flash illuminated the night sky, revealing three helicopters
racing toward Isla Mujeres.  And just as the darkness returned,
they saw the first helicopter explode, then hang motionless for a
long moment before crashing to the water.

Another flash of light from the hotel brought down the second
helicopter.  Its burning fuel illuminated the third helicopter as
it made a desperate attempt at a U-turn.  A final round of
whatever weapon the Reyes were firing brought it down as well.

Then all was silent.  In the distance they could see three
flaming oil slicks and fiery debris spread out between them.

"Monica," John whispered.  "See?  Everything's going to be
alright."

"I hope you're right," she answered.

They heard Frank's voice calling out, "Gibson?  Still got that
gun?"

Gibson pulled his gun from its box, loaded it with magnetite
bullets, then said, "I'll take the front."

"I'll take the rear," Frank said.  "John?  You good to cover the
middle?"

"Huh?" John said, reaching for his gun.

"I think one of them bailed," Frank explained.

"He's out there," Gibson announced.  "And so is Shannon."

Monica drew her gun and stood next to John at the bow.  Suddenly
they heard a frantic splashing a few feet away.  The pilot turned
on a spotlight and trained it on the sound.  There, amidst the
frothy green sea, they could see the long tendrils of Shannon's
dark hair as she wrestled with a man in a military uniform.

"Shannon!" John shouted over the barrel of the gun.  "Get out of
the way!"

At the sound of her name, Shannon raised her head and looked in
their direction, but she was blinded by the light.  Her opponent
took the opportunity to grab her by the neck then force her
downward.  The onlookers on the boat watched helplessly as the
pair disappeared in the depths of the sea.

The formerly calm waters were now rocking the boat as the dueling
super soldiers kicked up wave after wave.  Grey wolf paced
nervously, his paws barely able to keep a grip.  He took up a
position on the opposite side of the boat then let out a low,
throaty growl.

"This side!" Frank called out, and he rushed to the opposite
side, grabbing a harpoon-like weapon as he rounded the cabin.  He
took aim, waiting for the captain to find the pair with the
searchlight, but as the boat continued rocking more and more
violently, the light never found them.  Frank waited for the boat
to tilt downward on his side, then jumped overboard, weapon in
hand.

"Frank! NO!" Monica shouted, running to the side.

John caught up with her and yelled, "Hang on!  If he can't stop
them we're all going overboard!"

Monica got to her knees, wrapped one arm around a pole, then
raised her gun.  Pointing it toward the sound, she concentrated,
her finger on the trigger, waiting for her moment.  Gibson
imitated her, kneeling at the next pole and taking aim himself.

When the light caught the supersoldiers, it was obvious that
Shannon was just barely holding her own.  Neither she nor her
opponent seemed to have notice Frank treading water nearby,
waiting for his opportunity just as the agents on board were.
Suddenly, the soldier grabbed Shannon in a headlock, and with a
violent thrust, pushed her downward, then leaped over her
descending body toward Frank.

Frank took pulled the trigger on his harpoon, sending the sharp
blade into the center of his chest.  But after a momentary look
of surprise, the super soldier swam toward Frank, overtaking him
with a few powerful strokes.  He caught Frank in the same kind of
headlock he'd put Shannon in, then gave his head a forceful
twist.

On shared instinct, Monica and Gibson fired simultaneous shots,
hitting the man in the head.  The man's headless body, now
disintegrating from the magnetite harpoon shot, lay on the
surface of the water, its sizzling flesh floating toward Frank's
lifeless body.

"Frank!" Monica called out, even though her instinct told her it
was hopeless.  Desperate to share a final word with her brother,
she started to climb over the bow until John pulled her back.

"Look!" John pointed to the light, which now shone on the
familiar figure of Shannon, swimming toward Frank.  Seemingly
unharmed, she grabbed Frank and pulled him toward the boat.

Though her hands were shaking, Monica managed to get a grip under
one of Frank's armpits, and when John took the other they lifted
him out of the water.

Frank's head was still turned to the unnatural angle the
supersoldier had put it in, and his eyes stared unblinkingly up
at Monica.

"Frank," she sobbed.  "You did it.  You saved us. Vince will be
so proud!"

Grey Wolf approached carefully, then sat by Frank's side and let
out a howl that could be heard on the island.


*******************************
EPILOGUE

- Three weeks later -
Falls Church, Virginia

Gibson scraped the food off the dinner dishes, as he had every
day since they'd arrived in his new home, then loaded the
dishwasher.  Monica watched with pride, thinking that she was
lucky to have such a good son.  When she returned to the FBI she
found that she'd accrued several weeks of vacation time, and that
by adopting Gibson she was entitled to family leave as well.  For
the past three weeks the two of them had worked together to turn
John's house from a bachelor pad into a true family home.  Then,
every day when John arrived home from his new job, they gave him
a run-down of the day's decorating changes.  John had been
pleased with most of them, but there were a few things he refused
to change.

Monica looked up at the NASCAR calendar hanging in the dining
room, one of the few decorating concessions John had demanded.
She noted the date, thinking that hanging a calendar was a small
sacrifice in exchange for the big one he was making.  Most new
husbands would be less understanding of Monica's sudden refusal
to have sex.  But John understood.  At night, after the
distracting activities of the day, she couldn't help thinking of
William and of the baby of her own that might have been.  She
turned her back on her husband, but let him spoon himself behind
her.  She knew he was pretending not to know she was crying
herself to sleep, and she suspected he was shedding a few tears
himself.  But as she stared at the calendar, she found herself
calculating the date of her next fertile period.  Maybe then, she
thought.  Maybe then she could think about a new baby instead of
the one she'd left behind.

"I know you have doubts about the Via," Gibson said, interrupting
her thoughts.  He was talking to John.  How long had they been
talking?  Was John lost in his own thoughts while she was lost in
hers?  She stirred her tea absently, barely paying attention to
Gibson as he puttered in the kitchen.

"But you have doubts about the FBI too."  Gibson went to the
cupboard where he stored his gun, took out the box and showed it
to them as a reminder.  "I found out who owned this gun before
me.  His name was S.G.B. Spender," Gibson announced.  He took out
the gun and held it out for their inspection.  "He was the first
member of the Via to infiltrate the government.  He's the one who
tipped them off about Roswell and the coming invasion."

"Don't you mean *C* G. B. Spender?" John asked.

The name grabbed Monica's attention.  "That's the man who
threatened your life, Gibson!"

"Not that man.  This man died in the 1950s."  Gibson put the gun
back in its box.  "He died because of what he knew, and because
of who he knew.  But he never gave up the Via to anyone."

Monica pursed her lips as she considered this news.  It raised a
lot more questions than it answered.  And when she looked at John
she could see he was as puzzled as she.

"If it weren't for him we wouldn't have magnetite bullets!"
Gibson said.  "He wasn't a bad man!"

"What's his relation to C.G.B. Spender, Gibson?" John asked,
pushing aside his rising anger.

"No relation.  It's not either one's real name," Gibson answered.
"C.G.B. just stole the idea. S.G.B. was Shadow Government Big
Spender, and the man you knew was Central Government Big
Spender."

"Well *that's* comforting," Monica snorted.

"And who are you going to be?  Puppet Government Big Spender?"
John asked.

Gibson stared at his new parents with defiance they'd never seen
before.  "He made up the name as a joke.  He never gave the Via
any money.  He just helped them out."  After reading their
thoughts, he continued, "The Via isn't lying.  And you're wrong
about them turning against us."

"Who?" John asked.

"The Via.  They won't let us down.  When the aliens come, they'll
be ready, and they'll save us all," Gibson said with assurance.

"And what if the aliens never come?" Monica asked.

"Then they'll just keep watching out for each other, and for us."
Gibson put the box back in its cupboard, keeping his back to his
parents.

"Gibson, there's a principle you may not have learned yet, and I
hope you never see the truth of it," John said.  "Absolute power
corrupts absolutely."

THE END