John glanced at the rear view mirror for what had to be the seventh time since he had driven away from Bennett Avenue. For the past six days, he had spent almost every waking moment in that hospital, watching over Monica as she recovered, even as she was sleeping. There had never been a moment of doubt in his mind that he belonged there. Part of it was a kind of repayment, for the hours she had spent with him as he had been recovering the week before.
It was the rest of his reasons for watching over Monica that confused him. He had never questioned the fact that she was his friend, his most trusted confidante. She had been there, had shared in every horrifying moment of that discovery nearly five years ago. And while her departure from the New York office had come soon after his decision to join the FBI, they had stayed in contact over the years because of that bond. Her beliefs stood in stark contrast to everything he knew to be true, but even so, he trusted in her judgment more than anyone.
Only, it wasn’t that simple anymore. Working with her had been a matter of compromise, on more than one level. He needed someone he could trust to help him work on the X-Files and deal with the internal challenges that such work presented. At the same time, he needed someone who could make the kinds of theoretical leaps of faith that Mulder had always made. Monica had been the obvious choice. But her presence reminded him every day of the moment they had shared.
Ever since that night, coming home from Billies just to get that fateful call, he had been forced to consider that Monica didn’t have the same barriers to making their relationship something more. If anything, she saw his personal and spiritual growth as some kind of duty, an ongoing project or responsibility. And what better way to see to that, than to take on a larger role in his life?
Waiting in those desperate hours, searching for some sign of hope that she would recover, he had thought of what it might have been like, to respond to her advances, open himself up to what she offered. But looking into her eyes, he could see the price that would come with that choice, and he couldn’t make it. He had driven her home, watched her walk to her door, and acted as though every unspoken invitation simply didn’t exist.
Even now, he was torn, but he knew that the worst thing he could do was change his mind. Now wasn’t the time for making romantic advances towards a fellow agent, let alone Monica. Not when his own recovery was ongoing, let alone hers. Not when so many emotional wounds had been torn wide open. William’s abduction, Walter’s betrayal, Monica’s accident, his own apparent vision or sign from God, all of them one after the other in the space of a couple weeks. Adding a forbidden romance to the list was just about the last thing any of them needed.
Annoyed with himself, he switched on the radio, still preset to the local news station. The way things had been going lately, it was unlikely to soothe his mind, but at least it would prove a distraction.
“…today confirmed that there was another wave of the recent biological terrorist attacks on the nation’s infrastructure. Intelligence sources have matched the anthrax recently discovered at the State Department and Internal Revenue Service with the samples taken from the post office routing machines in Trenton, NJ and Manhattan late last year. This latest attack continues the reign of terror that has gripped the nation unabated since the events of 9/11. In response to the latest findings, the CDC and FEMA announced that research into a new method of vaccination against biological attacks is currently underway, and may yield results within the next several weeks.
“And now to update our lead story this hour, the Department of Justice has ordered federal intervention in the escalating situation outside of Denver, Colorado, where a small commune accused of holding small children against their will has successfully thwarted local law enforcement efforts to retrieve the alleged victims. A spokesman for the commune, which has not been identified, claims that the charges are a fabrication, and that all actions taken against them are an attempt by the federal government to…”
Doggett shut the radio off, rubbing his eyes, more tired than he thought was possible for this time of night. He turned onto his road just in time to see someone exiting an airport limousine about as far down the street as his house should be. He frowned, unable to make out the figure in the darkness of night. He didn’t remember hearing anything about visitors, and with everything that had been happening lately, unannounced guests weren’t exactly in fashion. As the figure pulled an overnight bag out of the trunk of the limousine, he pulled his truck to the curb in front of his neighbor’s house, kicking on the high beams as he came to a stop.
“Something I can help you with?” he called out of the window, peering through the mist on his windshield.
The figure turned, and dark curls spilled out from over a woman’s slender shoulders. Her lips curled into a warm smile. “Well, darlin’, I certainly hope so.” She lifted the overnight bag slightly in his direction. “Mind starting with my bag?”
John’s eyes went wide in shock, and he slumped back into his seat, unable to believe what he was seeing. Absently, he shut off the engine, sliding his keys into his palm, and then jumped out of the truck, almost running in her direction. He took her into his arms, pulling her tight to his chest.
“Mo Dannah,” he whispered in her ear, as her bag fell to the ground as she slid her arms around his back. “You are the last person I thought I would see right now.”
She pulled back slightly, looking him in the eye. “You mean...you didn’t get my message?”
“Message?” he glanced at the house, and then over his shoulder at the truck. “No...I’ve been spending most of my time at the hospital.” He scanned his addled memory of the last several days. “I’m sure I called you, told you about Monica.”
Mo nodded, her expression turning grave. “I got your message, darlin’, and you sounded like a wreck. And after everything you went through...well, I had a bit of time on my hands, and I thought you could use something more than a friendly voice on the other end of the line.”
John suddenly felt an odd tension in his gut, but he ignored it and nodded. “I’m fine, but it sure is good to see you right now.” He pulled her into another tight embrace, and then bent down to grab her bag, clearing his throat. He pulled out some cash from his pocket, checking to make sure that it would cover the fare and tip for a trip from Dulles, and passed it to the driver through the window. As the limousine sped off, John followed Mo up towards the front door.
“I’m glad my flight was a bit delayed,” Mo commented absently as he fiddled with the front door. “I would have been standing here for a while.”
He pushed the door open and moved to let her in, smiling up at her tightly. “Monica was just released a couple hours ago, and you know how it is getting into the city and back this time of night.” He saw her expression turn slightly concerned, and he forced his smile to become more genuine. “Uh...I imagine you must be tired. Dealing with the jet lag, all those security checkpoints, the ride over.”
She hesitated, as if she wanted to ask him something, but then she simply shrugged as she pulled off her coat. “I am a bit tired, but I figured I could sleep in a bit in the morning.” He offered to take her coat, and she passed it to him with a smile. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you would be going to the hospital or work, but either way...” She glanced around the house, looking at the unkempt appearance of every visible surface.
He smiled sheepishly. “I suppose it could use a woman’s touch.” Then he shrugged, shoving the coat into the closet. “As it turns out, I asked for the day off tomorrow, just in case Monica needed a hand. And I could use the rest.”
Her sea-green gaze lingered on his face, the tension in his shoulders, the stiffness of his posture. She took in a tentative breath, biting her lip. “John...are you sure this isn’t going to be a problem? You seem more tense now than you did when I first saw you.”
He let out a deep sigh, and then shook his head, placing his hands on her arms. “It’s not a problem, Mo. I promise. I’m just...I’m still dealing with a few things, and since I missed your message...well, I haven’t really had the chance to unwind.”
She could see right through him. He could see it in her eyes. But he could also see that she had resolved to come and help him work things out, regain some sense of balance, and for the moment, she seemed to let his concerns remain unspoken. She covered her own reaction with a long sigh of her own, glancing in the direction of the stairs. “Sounds like a good night’s rest is just the thing, then, darlin’.” She started walking. glancing over her shoulder. “Coming?”
Bending down to grab her bag, he forced another smile and followed her up to the bedroom.
****
Mo stirred as she felt John twitch under her touch. It wasn’t the first time he had done so, and just like the other times, he never fully wakened from his restless slumber. There was no denying the tension that had been stretched over every inch of his body since the moment he had seen her, but she had hoped that it would fade with a little rest and tender care.
Only it wasn’t that simple, was it? Even his sleep was tense, his bare shoulders tight and unyielding under her fingers. As they had slipped into a careful embrace, one without expectations, she had tried to soothe his aches and pains as best as she could. But he was holding so much back, more than usual, and that was defeating her efforts.
Not for the first time, she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, wondering if she had made the right decision. They had fallen into a comfortable pattern over the past few weeks, carefully dodging any deep discussions about where they stood with one another. Ever since his experience in Mexico and the renewed pain over the death of his son, he had needed someone to talk to, someone to help make sense of it all. And then there had been the frustrations over the lack of work, hints about tensions among his circle of friends…coming here had been a gamble, no matter what she might have told herself.
The past few weeks had been the worst. It was as if the ground had been torn right out from under him, and it was tearing her apart to hear the pain in his voice from so far away, yearning for some kind of solace. It had been too soon to come right after his release from the hospital, and as soon as that had been done, his partner had been similarly injured. Something had happened there, too, she knew, but John had been unwilling to say much about it.
All she could tell was that he had retreated into himself again. Maybe he wasn’t as isolated as he had been when they had first met, but whatever it was, it wasn’t something that she could easily put into words. He was genuinely glad to see her, happy that she was there. Only there was a sense of guilt, even dread. She knew that her presence would rekindle some of the latent emotions surrounding their last encounter, and she hoped that it was nothing more than what he said it was.
She closed her eyes and let out a frustrated breath, folding her hands over her stomach. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning, and fretting over it any more than she already had would just make it that much worse. Rolling over on her side again, sliding an arm around John’s chest, she pressed herself close and did her best to find some comfort.
****
MARCH 22, 2002
9:16 AM
Mo absently rolled over, reaching out for John with a weary arm. Her hand fell through empty space, and her eyes popped open immediately. She pressed her fingers against the pillow and bedspread, noting that they were still slightly warm. Wherever John had gone, he hadn’t been gone for long. Sitting up, she glanced around the room and saw that her clothing from the night before had been carefully folded and placed on top of his dresser.
The door was closed, but even so, the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee was cutting its way through the cobwebs, and she stretched, trying to work out the discomfort from a largely sleepless night. Not exactly the kind of sleepless night that she had been hoping for, but she had resigned herself to an awkward start to the weekend. Even so, she had no idea what to expect as she slid out of bed, retrieving her robe from the dresser and tying the black silk belt tightly as she opened the door.
She noticed the little things as she walked towards the stairs and then down to the ground floor. He had taken a little bit of time to straighten up here and there; nothing fancy, but the effort showed. She couldn’t be sure, but it left her with the impression that he had needed something to keep himself busy, distracted. There was just a bit less tension in the air then there had been the night before, but within, she was still unsettled.
She walked down the stairs slowly, and caught him sitting on the couch by himself, staring into a mostly full cup of coffee, his expression grim. He glanced up at the sound of her footfalls, and smiled slightly, an attempt of comfort that never quite reached his eyes.
“Good morning,” he said warmly, rising to his feet. “I figured we could use a little pick-me-up. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I could sleep the rest of the day and still be tired.” He walked towards the kitchen. “How do you want it?”
Whatever she had been planning to say, she abandoned it for the direct approach. “I’ll take it straight up,” she said firmly, leaning against the kitchen doorway as John fumbled in the cabinet for another mug.
Placing the mug on the counter, he turned towards her with an expression of apparent confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“Whatever it is you aren’t telling me,” Mo replied firmly, crossing her arms. Before he could reply, she arched an eyebrow. “Please don’t patronize me by telling me there’s nothing wrong. I know you better than that.”
“Yeah,” he said, nervously gripping the coffee between his hands before placing back onto the counter again. “Yeah, I guess you do.” He rubbed his forehead with his thumb for a second, thinking of the best way to say it. “It’s nothing much to worry about. It’s like I said last night. I’m still getting over some of the things that this whole mess with Monica brought up. The usual kind of thing.”
Mo shook her head. “Oh, darlin’, I very much doubt it’s the usual kind of thing.” She sighed, then batted a stray dark curl of hair out of her eyes. “So what are we talking about?”
His expression became hard, and his eyes filled with regret. “I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, after the last time, but maybe it’s better that we get it out in the open.” He sighed, and then gestured towards the side of his head. “When I thought…when Monica was in the coma, and it didn’t seem like she was going to make it…I guess I was regretting that I never let myself think about what we might have had together.” He saw the look on Mo’s face and quickly added, “If things had been different.”
“Different,” Mo repeated evenly. She let out a deep breath, suddenly feeling more than a little worn out. “Let me guess. She has feelings for you, and you don’t reciprocate.”
“That would just about cover it,” Doggett agreed. He smiled slightly, as if glad to have mentioned what was bothering him. “I don’t think it would have made a difference, if there had been time to work it all out on my own, but last night, after dropping her off…” He shrugged. “I could tell she was thinking about it, so it was on my mind.”
Mo seemed to consider that for a moment, and then started walking over to him. “Want to know what I think?” She snaked her arms around his neck, flashing him an easy smile. “Darlin’, you think too much. I can see why you would have been worried, but that was a long time ago, and we’ve both learned a few things in the meantime.”
He relaxed a bit, reaching an arm casually around her hip. “I thought you might think I was being…I don’t know…unfaithful.”
“Those kinds of thoughts are normal under those kinds of circumstances,” Mo pointed out. “Especially when you consider what the two of you have been through lately.” She sighed, her lips twisting into a rueful smile. “I will admit, it’s not the kind of thing a woman wants to hear after six months of being apart, but we’ve seen how these kinds of emotions can be twisted around and made to sound worse than they are.”
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” John replied with a wide grin. He looked down into her eyes, and his smile turned slightly wicked. “You know…it occurs to me that I never gave you a proper welcome, with all of these other things on my mind.”
“A proper welcome, hmm?” she murmured, as he pulled her in closer. He leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the cheek, then tracing kisses down under her ear towards the nape of her neck. In the same moment, his free hand slipped under her robe, his fingertips sliding over the silky material of her nightgown. She shivered at the contact, and let him press her hips against the edge of the counter as his kisses became more animated, her hands running through his hair. “And uh…what did you…um…have in mind?”
Without pausing, he answered, “Oh, I’m going to…”
And then the doorbell rang.
“…kill whoever’s at the door.” He looked up, glaring in the direction of the living room. Then he turned to Mo with an apologetic look in his eyes. “I really ought to find out who it is.”
“I know,” she replied, letting out a slightly disappointed huff. She lifted her hands so that John could disentangle himself, and then adjusted her robe as she reached for the coffee cup. As he reached the front door, she called out, “Oh, and darlin’, if it’s some insurance salesman, feel free to kick him for me.”
He turned back in her direction as he opened the door. “Oh, believe me, I’ll kick ‘em twice.” Then he turned to see who it was, and his eyes widened.
“Shit.”
****
He forced a smile as Scully looked up at him in surprise, her lips forming a tentative half smile as she adjusted William on her shoulder. “Good morning to you, too,” she said humorlessly. She glanced down at William as he shifted his head. “I thought I would stop by and see if you knew how Monica was feeling this morning. I tried calling her place, and she didn’t answer.”
“Oh…uh…good morning,” he muttered, pushing open the door.
She hesitated, her gaze falling on his hair, which was now sticking up at odd angles. She smiled knowingly. “John, is someone here?” She stepped in, her eyes going wide. “Oh…it’s not…Monica?”
“What?” Doggett replied, his own eyes widening in panic as Scully walked past him into the house. “No!”
“Then who…,” she asked, and then her words trailed off as she saw Mo standing in the living room, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand, staring at Scully and William with more than a little surprise.
Doggett stepped into the living room, running one hand through his hair, gestured towards Mo with the other. “Dana, you remember Morgan Dannah, right? From that case in Boulder a couple years back?”
Scully seemed to plaster a smile on her face as she figured out how she should react. In the end, though, she blinked furiously, blushing and thrusting out her free hand. “Of course. I should have remembered…good to see you again.”
Mo smiled, giving John a playful scowl as she shook Scully’s hand. “Good to see you, too. I assume this is little William?”
The uncertain look on Scully’s face dissolved as she beamed, turning so Mo could see William better. “Oh, yes, this is our good little baby…still a little tired from keeping Mommy up half the night, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at him.”
John closed his eyes, taking a long, cleansing breath before opening his eyes again. He placed a hand on Mo’s shoulder, smiling slightly. “I’m going to go throw something on. Can I leave you two…uh, three…alone down here for a few minutes?”
Mo’s playful scowl took on a bit more seriousness, but she covered it quickly with a smile. “Of course. We wouldn’t want you to be running around without a shirt all day.” She glanced at Scully with amusement. From Scully’s expression, there was a hardly a consensus on that statement.
“Right,” John muttered with a smirk, and he made for the stairs.
****
Mo went back to leaning against the wall by the kitchen, watching Scully as she settled in on the couch, balancing William on one knee. All else aside, she was happy for Dana. She knew personally the yearnings to have and to hold a child of one’s own, and the conflicting emotions that came with the discovery that such a thing is not meant to be. John had mentioned that there were some mysterious circumstances surrounding William’s conception, but he’d been uncomfortable speaking about it with her, and she hadn’t wanted to pursue the topic. However it had happened, she could see the love in Scully’s eyes, and it warmed her heart.
“He’s a beautiful boy,” Mo observed, watching as the toddler played with his mother’s shirt pocket.
Scully beamed again. “Thanks. He’s the best thing in my life right now.”
With the conversation now started, Mo walked over to one of the armchairs, folding her legs under her and adjusting her robe as she settled into the seat. “John hasn’t said too much about what happened, other than the fact that some cultists abducted William because they thought he was some sort of foretold savior. I’m not sure he was even sure of why they did it.”
Scully sighed, shaking her head, running her fingers through William’s hair. “I’m not sure that any of us really understand what happened. I’ve run it over a thousand times in my own mind since we brought him back home, and I still can’t conceive of it…why so many people want to make him out to be something more than he is.” Scully sighed again.
Mo stared at her half-full cup of coffee for a moment, and then glanced back up at Scully, uncertainly etched on her face. “I wasn’t sure how to bring this up with John, especially with everything happening all at once, and coming at what seems like a bad time…but he mentioned something about hearing a voice when he was unconscious. A voice that told him to warn you about the people who took your son.”
Scully nodded, her eyes slightly closed, as though she were reliving the memory. “Yes…that’s what happened. I was…I was praying for his life, and then he woke up. That was enough to stun me, believe me, but then he told me that he had heard this voice. It told him that they would contact me, but that they couldn’t be trusted.” Scully started brushing her fingers through William’s hair again, as if seeking some kind of distraction from the disturbing nature of her own words. “I’ve never seen him trust in something so…I guess the word is ‘irrational’.” She shook her head, smiling. “I guess it was just another part of the whole mess that didn’t make sense.”
Mo turned to look towards the stairs, her eyes full of worry. “He didn’t say much about it. Only that it had happened, and that he was having a hard time working through it. It’s part of why I wanted to come here, especially when I heard that Monica was hurt badly in that accident. It’s one thing to have someone to talk to, when something like that happens in your life, but to be alone…”
Scully’s good humor faded, and she looked down at William. “Alone…yes, that can be difficult.”
Mo caught the rush of heartache, and turned to Scully with concern. “Agent Scully…Dana…has something happened? It sounded like…”
“John didn’t mention anything?” Scully asked, and then she waved Mo’s reply off. “Of course not…he probably didn’t think it would matter, since we don’t know for sure.” She swallowed, biting back another rush of emotion, and then pressed on. “It’s Mulder…William’s father. The people who took William wanted Mulder dead, and for a while, it sounded as though they had managed to kill him.”
Mo closed her eyes, not quite believing what she was hearing. As bad as things had sounded, it was apparently much, much worse. “No, John hadn’t mentioned that. I’m sorry, Dana, I really am.” She flashed Scully a tentative smile. “But you said you didn’t know for sure?”
Scully blinked, obviously forcing away tears. “No…but I haven’t heard from him in weeks, since around the time the attempt was supposed to…” She stopped, pressing her lips tightly shut as she struggled for control. “Damn it.” She shifted William on her lap, again using the child as a kind of distraction from her own swirling uncertainties. “I keep promising myself that I won’t start losing it again, but it’s like there’s something new every day…”
Mo watched Scully slowly gain control over herself, and she wondered how she could ever have worried over John’s relationship with this woman. It was easy to judge when she was only dealing with one side of the story and John’s continual denial of his own inner demons, but it was clear that the situation in which John had become mired was beyond the pale.
“At least you have people like John and Monica to help you through it,” Mo observed.
Scully nodded tentatively, wiping at her eyes. “I know, but even so…I worry about that, too.” She looked at Mo with a troubled expression. “I really thought he was going to die, Mo. I don’t mean to hit you with that, because with everything being said about Mulder...but I have to say it.” She cuddled William close to her chest, and the young boy cooed. “I thought they were finally coming for us, one by one. First Mulder, then William, then John…” She stopped, kissing William on the top of his head. “It didn’t happen that way, thankfully.”
Mo wasn’t sure how to respond, and she glanced back towards the stairs, wondering what was taking John so long. She felt an incredible urge to run up those stairs, to wrap her arms around his neck and never let go. “Goddess,” she murmured finally, shaking her head. “I always knew that what John did for a living was dangerous. But this…Dana, what you’re saying…it sounds like it’s just a matter of time.”
Scully nodded absently, her lips still close to William’s head. “Sometimes I feel like there’s this knot of constant dread in my gut…for William, for Mulder…for all of us. And then things seem to calm down for a while, and I pretend that it’s not there.” She smiled ruefully. “But some nights, when I’m putting William down or when I’m lying awake in bed…”
Mo nodded. If this is what John had been facing down ever since he had started this assignment, then it was no wonder that he was unable to relieve the tension. And then adding everything that had happened to his son, and the constant reminders, and still trying to reach some sense of balance? Just thinking about it made her hands grip her coffee mug that much tighter.
Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of John bounding down the stairs, and she turned to look at him just as he stopped short at the obvious tension that had filled the room. He saw the somber expression on Scully’s face, and Mo’s overwhelming concern, and raised his eyebrows, not sure what to say. Finally, he seemed to find his voice.
“Sorry I took so long,” he muttered, pointing upstairs. “I was just calling around to see if anyone knew where Monica was.”
Her mind still reeling with the implications of what Scully had been telling her, Mo understood why Scully had come to John immediately upon learning that Monica was out of contact. “Did you hear anything?”
John nodded, and everyone visibly relaxed. “Craig said that he took Monica to get some of her prescriptions filled. Apparently Angel asked him to stop by.” With that, some of John’s tension returned. “Something about how she had the feeling the rest of us would be otherwise occupied.”
“That sounds like Angel, all right,” Scully said matter-of-factly. “Though to be honest, she did call me this morning, and I mentioned that William had been up part of the night.”
Mo caught some of what the others weren’t saying, and she frowned. “This friend of yours, Angel…how would she know that someone else would have to look after Monica?” She gestured towards John with her coffee mug. “I assumed John would be doing it, one way or another.”
“So did I,” Scully admitted. William wiggled on her lap, and she readjusted without missing a beat. “But Angel…well, let’s just say she has a way of knowing things.” Scully seemed to remember something, and turned to John with a smile. “Speaking of which, she mentioned that when I saw you today, I should convince you to stop by Billies tonight. To get your mind off things.”
Mo’s frown matched John’s as she considered what was being said. A way of knowing things. When Scully stopped by, not if. Things were getting more complicated and unusual by the moment, and Mo wondered just how much John had been holding back. “Who’s Billy?” she asked, starting with the obvious.
John blushed slightly. “Tell you what…why don’t we clean up and get out of here for a while? Get some fresh air?” He gestured towards the window. “I’ll explain everything then.”
****
NATIONAL MALL
1:09 PM
“So,” Mo asked, looking at the object stuffed into the paper wrap resting between her fingers, “this is supposed to be the best Polish sausage in town?”
John gestured for her to wait while he finished chewing and swallowing the bite he had taken a moment before. “Absolutely,” he growled, flashing her a quick smile. “I tried selling Monica on this months ago, but I don’t think she knows how to appreciate a good sausage.”
Mo had taken a small bite, and was now choking on it as she tried not to burst into laughter. Holding a hand to her chest, she nudged John in the arm. “And how would you know that, darlin’?”
John looked at her with a tolerant smile. “I guess I know what’s on your mind.” He laughed, looking around at the large crowd of tourists.
Mo followed his gaze, and then took a deep breath. “It’s amazing how warm it is.”
John laughed again. “Just your typical balmy March weather in Washington.” He took another bite of his sausage, wrapping his free arm around Mo’s shoulders. She settled in against him as they walked, and for a few moments, they were happy just to be in each other’s company.
“So,” she said, after they had both finished their lunch and were slowly walking alongside the reflecting pool, “who is Billy again?”
John smiled warmly. “It’s not a who. It’s a what. ‘Billies’ is a music club not far from here. The actual name is ‘Tripping Billies’. It’s a place that we go to after work sometimes.”
“Ah,” Mo replied with a grin. “Like the Dave Matthews song.”
John glared at her for a second, and then his smile returned. “Why does everyone recognize that song title but me?”
“Because all you listen to is Lyle Lovett, darlin’,” Mo deadpanned. “So you do get out on occasion.”
“Well, I try for once or twice a week, even if it’s just to see how Craig is doing.” He saw the question in Mo’s eyes, and added, “Craig Walden…he was involved in a case up in New Jersey, about a year and a half ago.”
Mo brought them to a halt, stepping in front of John to look in his face. “Wait…I remember that. This isn’t the same man who…”
“No, not him,” John reassured her. “His name was Thomas McShane. We haven’t heard a thing about him since the case, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s just fine.” He gently slid his arm around her waist and they resumed their walk. “Craig was his protégé…I guess that’s how you would put it. Once he knew how badly he’d been manipulated, he left town and eventually wound up in this area. He has a band, plays guitar and does vocals with a young woman named Elyssa.”
“And then there’s Angel,” Mo prompted.
“Right,” John replied, but the tone of his voice made Mo stop and look in his face again. He tried to hide the sudden tension, but he knew it was a lost cause. “Angel’s…well, that’s what she calls herself. She’s a young Asian woman who helped Craig through the rough part of getting over what he had done while running with McShane all those years.”
Mo wasn’t fooled; she could see that there was a lot more than what he was saying. “John…”
Before she could say more, he relented, holding up his hands in an appeal for peace. “All right, besides the fact that we don’t know who she really is, because Angel’s not her real name, there’s the fact that she apparently has some kind of connection to everything happening with William, she runs a store filled with antiques which supposedly hold memories from the people who once owned them or some such bullshit, and…” He stopped, shaking his head. “And plenty of other things that I’m not inclined at the moment to get into.”
Mo wanted to hear the rest, but she knew that if it was difficult for him to talk about, it had something to do with his son. At least, that was the feeling that she got from his expression and the tone of his voice. Filing that away for the moment, she simply nodded that she understood, then asked the natural question. “And that’s why you’re not so comfortable with the idea of Craig trying to start a relationship with her, or the fact that she knew somehow that you were going to be otherwise occupied today.”
“That’s about right,” John admitted. He ran his fingers over his face, fighting the impulse to change the subject. “I guess you could say that Craig…he’s like a younger brother. I feel a certain amount of responsibility for what’s happened in his life. I remember what it was like when I was on the force, with guys like Duke and even Tommy…we looked out for each other, made sure we kept our noses clean.”
“Oh, darlin’,” Mo said, sliding her arm under his, pulling him close. She ran her fingers over his cheek, admiring the roughness of the stubble that had begun to grow since the day before. “And here he is, going after a woman that you can’t trust. So you don’t know what to do.”
John shrugged, smiling ruefully. “Well, it’s just another thing on top of all the rest of the crap we’re dealing with lately.”
“You mentioned that she was involved somehow in what happened to Scully’s son?” Mo asked gently.
John nodded, as they turned the corner of the reflecting pool, walking the general direction of his truck, which was parked several blocks away. “In a good way, actually. She was going to help hide William from the cultists, but…well, you know the rest. And that just makes it harder to figure out how she fits into the picture.”
Mo looked at his pained expression, and closed her eyes, leaning against his arm as they walked. As bad as it had sounded on the phone, every time he had called, the reality was far more frightening. There wasn’t much that she could do about most of it, she knew, but the situation with Craig and Angel sounded like it was straightforward enough. And if she could do something, any little thing, to help lessen John’s load, then she was determined to make an honest attempt.
“I think we ought to go to this club of yours tonight,” Mo said finally.
“Really?” John replied, looking down into her sea-green eyes. He smiled wickedly. “I thought you might have wanted to stay in for the night. Maybe make up for time.”
Mo returned his smile with a predatory grin of her own. “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’, there’s plenty of time for that. But now I’m intrigued. And anyone you find fit to call a little brother? Him, I have to meet.”
John laughed, and then he leaned down to give her a tender kiss. “All right, Ms. Dannah,” he rasped. “A night on the town…”
****
TRIPPING BILLIES
8:53 PM
“This is the place?” Mo glanced at John with barely suppressed amusement. Ignoring his scowl, she nodded towards the sign. “Not exactly the kind of place I would have expected.”
“Yeah, well, I had my doubts,” John admitted, letting a slight smile touch his lips. “But I have to admit, I’m a lot more comfortable here than I am in a lot of places these days.”
Sensing the dark undercurrent in the tone of his voice, she slid her arm around his hip, pulling him towards the door. “Well, then, let’s not waste a moment...”
Gracing Mo with a wider smile, he opened the door and let her walk in ahead of him. She was wearing the same deep blue dress that she had worn the last time she had come to Washington to visit him. Looking at her now, it was hard to imagine how long ago that had been, all the things that had passed between them in the days between. Now that she was here, he wanted nothing more than to hold on as tightly as he could to this feeling, for as long as he could afford.
The music seemed to reach out and enfold them with its lush texture. He could see the surprise in her green eyes as she turned to him with a grin. He had tried to describe just how good Angel’s Flock had gotten over the past year or so, but in reality, it was impossible to convey the sheer emotive power of the music they created. No matter what kind of music they played, he couldn’t help but find something to appreciate and draw from.
Tonight, at least for this early set, they had settled on a dreamy, almost hypnotic sound. Elyssa stood right behind the microphone, her willowy frame sheathed in a deep blue gown, her naturally wavy, honey blonde hair pouring down her back. The stage was bathed in red, and the rest of the band wore black suit jackets over white. It was a stunning and evocative image, almost unreal, and it fit the soft and lingering quality of Elyssa’s voice.
In this world of many colors
The storms of life
The joys of life move by
The dark, the light
The day, the night
The river of our life flows
Mo stopped close to the bar, resting gently against one of the empty stools. The bartender noticed him and nodded, grabbing a bottle of Scotch absently as he glanced towards Mo with a questioning raise of an eyebrow. Before John could reply to the unspoken query, the bartender smiled knowingly, producing a bottle of wine. John nodded, wondering why he was surprised that the bartender would know what they might want. This was, after all, one of Angel’s places.
Through the changing waters
A shining truth we see
We will always strive to be
Friends...Friends for life...
John glanced over at their usual table, and noticed that Angel was sitting alone. He hadn’t been expecting anyone else to show up tonight, not with Monica still recovering and Dana needing some time with William. He was actually worried that Skinner would show, leading to an uncomfortable confrontation or worse.
We are friends
Friends for life...
Elyssa stepped back as the song slipped into an extended coda. Mo turned to him with a wide smile on her face, which faded slightly as she saw the look on his face. Glancing towards the table, she furrowed her brow.
“What? Is something wrong?”
John forced a smile, gesturing towards the glass of wine that the bartender had produced. “No, nothing wrong.” He nodded towards the table. “That’s Angel.”
Mo looked over just as the young woman turned in their direction. Angel smiled at them, her gaze lingering on Mo just a second longer than on John, and then she was looking back at the stage. “She’s beautiful.”
“Craig sure seems to think so,” John mentioned, taking a sip of his Scotch.
Mo followed Angel’s gaze towards the stage, noticing that Angel’s distraction seemed to converge on the strapping young man strumming expertly on the guitar. She assumed that the rugged and fit man that looked something like a younger version of John would be Craig. “You’re sure they’re not an item?”
As the song faded into a close to a smattering of applause, John let out a chuckle and pointed towards Craig. “He’d like nothing more, but as far as she concerned? That’s another story.”
Mo looked back towards the table, casually studying the look on Angel’s face, the way she absently sucked on her lower lip, shifting her weight in her chair. “You’re sure about that, darlin’?”
“Well, I’ve seen my fair share of friendly rejections,” John noted. He waved as Craig caught his eye, and the younger man smiled, quietly calling Elyssa over. They spoke for a moment, and as Elyssa smiled in their direction, Craig stepped up to the microphone.
“For our next song we invite all of our couples to step onto the dance floor.” He looked directly at John and Mo. “You know who you are.”
John snorted, reaching for his drink, but Mo took hold of his arm before his fingers could slip around the glass. He saw the playful look in her eye, and gave her an exasperated glare. “Now, Mo...”
“Uh uh,” Mo replied with a chuckle, pulling him towards the open space where a few other couples were converging. “No excuses.” She led him to the center of the floor, wrapping her arms around his neck as his arms circled her hips. As the music began to play, a deep bass rhythm sliding underneath gently insistent, overlapping chords, setting them into a natural sway as they circled each other.
The trees along the sidewalk
Are shadowing the light
Of distant stars
And tenderly
The night surrounds us
As we walk the quiet streets
While time is taken by the gentle wind
To make the space for love
The music took over as Elyssa’s voice faded, and Mo rested her head against John’s shoulder. He nuzzled his cheek against her forehead, a slight but tender touch.
The night surrounds us
As we walk the quiet streets
While time is taken by the gentle wind
To make the space for love...
All too soon, the song was ending, and Mo tilted her head up towards his, letting her lips trace across his. He kissed her deeply, his arms still tightly around her waist, and she returned the kiss with all of the passion that she had been forcing herself to resist since she had arrived. They lingered in each other’s arms until the music faded completely, finally breaking their kiss to avoid the awkward moment that would come if they were the only people standing in the middle of the room, locked in an embrace.
“We’ll be right back,” Craig breathed in the mike, holding up the guitar as the band was met with blanket applause.
“That was wonderful,” Mo murmured, as they walked back towards the bar.
“The music or the kiss?” John joked, and Mo gave him a knowing smile as an answer. He noticed that their drinks were no longer on the bar, but a look from the bartender told him that they had already been delivered to their usual table. John nodded, and he slowly steered Mo in the right direction.
Angel saw them coming, and reached for her own glass, which appeared to be filled to the brim with bourbon. John stood by his usual seat directly across from Angel, and Mo took what was usually Monica’s seat on his right. He slid her chair closer to his before waiting for her to sit, and then he sat down with his arm around her shoulders.
****
“So,” Angel said, before John could think to make the requisite introductions. “You must be Morgan Dannah.” She reached over the table with a warm smile. “I’m Angel. May I assume that John has covered the basics?”
“He’s mentioned a couple things,” Mo admitted, taking Angel’s offering hand. Angel’s skin was warm to the touch, but before Mo could take notice of much more, Angel pulled her hand back. On closer inspection, Mo could see that Angel was most definitely disturbed by something. Her expression was distracted, and she seemed to be flushed, though that could have been an effect of the crimson glow still coming from the stage.
“Mostly about the shop, our regular gatherings, that sort of thing,” John replied with what she thought was a forced grin. “Nothing specific.” That last, Mo noticed, seemed to be a slight warning. She couldn’t tell what was passing between them, but she was sure that this was a bit uncomfortable for both of them. She remembered John’s tension at the National Mall when he discussed all of the intrigue surrounding Angel, and wondered what could possibly have happened to rattle John so badly.
Angel, on the other hand, seemed to have barely paid attention to John’s words. “Well, it’s good to see the two of you here tonight.” She took a long sip from her glass, draining nearly a third of the bourbon in the process. “When I told Craig, he was nearly bouncing off the walls. He wanted to impress you, I think.”
“Well, he certainly did that,” Mo replied honestly. “That was gorgeous.”
“Yes,” Angel murmured to herself, biting her lip again. “Gorgeous.” She took a deep breath, smiling towards Mo and John again.
Mo saw concern in John’s eyes, and he glanced at her to see if she was noticing Angel’s condition. She nodded slightly, and John seemed to consider what they ought to do about it. Mo, on the other hand, took a deeper look at Angel, reaching out ever so slightly, trying to get a sense of what was happening. Immediately she could feel a sense of expansion, as though Angel’s energies were stretched wide throughout the room, touching every person there and out into the city beyond.
There was something binding Angel and John together. That much was clear. The tension that resonated between them was much older than she would have guessed, and where it seemed to connect with John, she recognized an all too familiar tension. John had mentioned that Angel had some connection to the dangers posing Dana and William, but now it was obvious that Angel also had some connection with the death of John’s son.
Mo took a deep and cleansing breath, reaching for her glass. That was a subject that she had approached with the utmost care. As much as she wanted to find out how Angel fit into the picture, she couldn’t ask under these circumstances. Besides, she had sworn to herself that she would do something to ease John’s burdens, and dredging up the most painful experience of his life was hardly the best means to that end.
No, she had intended to find some way to soothe John’s fears about Craig’s possible relationship with Angel. Taking a long sip of her wine, she tried to get some sense of the connection between Angel and Craig. She was truck immediately by a sense of confusion, mixed with regret and more than a little fear. But there was more to it than that, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Angel was certainly attracted to Craig, and part of her confusion came from the yearnings that came with that attraction.
Before she could press more, she noticed that Angel was staring at her, a look of slight disapproval in her eyes. As Mo found herself looking into that steady gaze, she felt a sudden wave of doubt. It was as though she were looking into something deep and vast and endless, yet at the same time, there was nothing threatening in that gaze. Instead, there was something that she almost recognized, before Angel looked away, shutting down Mo’s impressions in the same moment.
John finally seemed to notice the silence, and turned to her with concern. “Everything all right? I know we didn’t get much sleep...”
“No, I’m fine, darlin’,” Mo replied, taking another sip from her glass. “Just thinking.”
Angel cleared her throat, reaching for her own glass. She drained the rest of the bourbon in one gulp, and then glanced at John and Mo. “I’m sorry...I’m just not myself tonight.”
“Anything wrong?” John pressed. Mo recognized the hint of “detective” in the tone of his voice.
“No,” Angel said, but her expression was uncertain. “No, just distracted.” She swallowed delicately, and as the light from the stage faded as the band returned. Her gaze lingered on Craig as he appeared, and Mo was struck again by the intensity of what lay between the two of them. John swore that Angel wasn’t interested in Craig, not in that way, so what was happening here? Just looking at him, it seemed as though Angel was breaking into a sweat. The physical attraction between them was almost palpable, and as the music began, Mo watched as Angel seemed to hang on Craig’s every word.
The curtains are drawn
Now the fire warms the room
Meanwhile outside
Wind from the northeast chills the air
It will soon be snowing out there
And some there are
Cold, they prepare for a sleepless night
Maybe this will be their last fight
But we’re safe in each other’s embrace
All fears go as I look on your face
Better think awhile
Or I may never think again
If this were the last day of your life, my friend,
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?
Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you
Make the most of all you still have coming to you
Lay down on the ground and let the tears flow from you
Flowing to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees
Let me live again, let life come find me wanting
Spring will strike again against the shield of winter
Let me feel once more the arms of love surround me
Telling me the danger’s past, I need not fear the icy blast again...
John’s arm pulled her closer, and Mo leaned her head on his shoulder, thankful for how the music seemed to calm and soothe John’s fears.
Laughter and music
And perfume linger here
And there, and there,
Wine flows from flask to glass to mouth
As it soothes, confusing our doubts
And soon we feel
Why do a single thing today?
There’s tomorrow sure as I’m here
So the days they turn into years
And still no tomorrow appears
Better think awhile
Or I may never think again
If this were the last day of your life, my friend,
Tell me, what do you think you would do then?
Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you
Make the most of all you still have coming to you
Lay down on the ground and let the tears flow from you
Flowing to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees
Let me live again, let life come find me wanting
Spring will strike again against the shield of winter
Let me feel once more the arms of love surround me
Telling me the danger’s past, I need not fear the icy blast again...
Content to remain snuggled up against John, Mo almost missed Angel’s sudden but silent departure. She glanced in Angel’s direction when she realized that the young woman was almost running for the women’s room, and there was something in the way Angel was walking, almost stumbling, that alarmed her. Mo sat up, and John turned to her, his expression puzzled.
“What is it?” he asked, glancing in the same direction.
“It think something’s wrong with Angel,” Mo replied, pulling herself to her feet. The lack of sleep was starting to wear her down a bit, but so far the night had been so enjoyable that she couldn’t bear to have it end. “I’m going to go check on her.”
John scowled, glancing towards Craig. The band hadn’t resumed their new set yet, and Craig was staring towards the table, frowning. John sent him a reassuring nod, and then turned back to Mo. “You sure you want to do this?”
“What, are you going to run into the ladies room after her?” Mo countered with a grin. “Don’t you worry, darlin’. I think I’ve got it covered.” She stood, adjusting her dress slightly and flashing him a grin. “Don’t go anywhere, now…”
“Wouldn’t think of it,’ John replied, saluting her with his Scotch. As she walked towards the ladies room, she could feel his gaze from across the room, and like every other time, it sent shivers up her spine. It was simply amazing what a look from that man could do to her.
Pushing open the door, she stepped around the corner tentatively, not sure what she was going to see. To her relief, Angel was simply standing over one of the sinks, splashing water onto her face, idly rubbing it over the bare skin of her arms. In the brighter light, Mo could tell that Angel had been sweating, almost profusely. Her thin halter top was clinging damply to her body, and her skin was definitely more flushed than Mo would expect it to be normally. Even if she wasn’t ill, Angel was suffering from something unusual.
It wasn’t in her nature to stand by and let someone suffer. Pushing away whatever weariness she was feeling, she opened herself up to Angel, breathing deeply and focusing on giving the young woman as much of her own strength and healing as she could. She immediately felt something rush through her, an agitation, almost like an electric charge. Remarkably, she could tell that Angel was unconsciously holding her back, keeping her from connecting too deeply. Mo steeled her resolve, and stepping towards Angel, she reached out to place a hand on Angel’s bare shoulder.
Angel gasped as she noticed Mo standing behind her in the mirror over the sink, her eyes widening in what was clearly an expression of panic. “No!” she cried, trying to twist away. “Don’t!”
But it was too late. As soon as her fingers came into contact with Angel’s skin, Mo felt an overwhelming rush of heat and arousal course through her, almost bringing her to her knees at the sheer power of it. Every sense seemed to amplify beyond her ability to control them. She could see the sheen of sweat on Angel’s skin, the way her breasts shifted under the thin material of her clothing, every strand of fire-kissed hair that spilled down her back. She could smell, almost taste, the musky scent of Angel’s own almost uncontrollable desire, now mixing with her own. The slick feel of Angel’s sweat on her fingers made her want nothing more than to reach out and touch it again, to feel that sensual slide of flesh over flesh. Her own clothing felt rough, almost painful with every labored breath, and she wanted more than anything to rip it away from her skin. Almost as much as she wanted to reach out and pull Angel towards her, to do anything to help quench the fire coursing through her veins.
The room seemed unbearably bright, and as she closed her eyes, she moaned as she felt Angel’s hands take her by the shoulders. There was more, so much more than just the desire that she was feeling. It was as though reaching into Angel was reaching into the heart of the universe itself, an endless reach of mind after mind, a connectivity more infinite than anything she could have imagined. With each passing heartbeat, she was touching more and more of who and what Angel was, and she knew.
“Goddess,” Mo breathed past short and shallow breaths, her mouth falling open in ecstasy as another wave rushed over her. “How could…how could they not know…”
“Morgan…Morgan, listen to me,” Angel called, and it was as if her voice were in the distance, yet somehow also within her own thoughts. “You need to listen to me. You’re not meant for this. None of you are.” Angel’s voice seemed to cut through the confusion, reaching to what remained of her control and sanity. “You need to focus, Morgan. Listen and focus.”
“Good,” Mo groaned, trying to force herself past Angel’s grasp, to press herself against Angel. “So good…”
“Damn it,” Angel muttered, and Mo felt a numbing coolness wipe away the brunt of her arousal. “It’s not going to work as well for you, but I have to try. I’m taking it away, Morgan, do you understand? I’m going to try to make you forget this happened. You’ll still need to…work this out…but at least you’ll stay sane.”
Her rushing, almost fluttering heartbeat slowed to something approaching normal, and her skin was no longer quite so sensitive. She was still wracked with almost primal urges, as though she was in heat like some wild animal. But she was gaining some control over it, even if she still couldn’t bear to open her eyes or speak.
“Go find John,” Angel said, her own voice betraying the effort required to maintain some semblance of balance. “Ask him to take you home.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her lips curling into a sultry smile as she opened her eyes. They seemed to gleam with an inner fire. “John…”
****
FALLS CHURCH, VA
10:49 PM
As he brought the car to a brief stop, waiting for the light to turn green, John glanced over at Mo. Her own gaze was focused somewhere out into the night, if it was focused at all, and she was singing softly to herself. None of that was unusual. What was a bit strange was the way her hand was tracing lightly over her thigh, which during the course of their ride home, she had exposed with an almost absent slide of her own hand.
Noticing that the light had turned green, he took the left turn onto his street, wondering if Mo was trying to tell him something, or if it was more of the off-kilter behavior that she had been exhibiting ever since she had emerged from the ladies room. He had noticed how she was walking a little differently, almost more loosely, and she seemed to have been exerting herself. There was still the sheen of sweat on her face, over her skin.
Bringing the truck to a stop in front of his house, he sat for a moment, watching her tease a fingertip along her inner thigh. Her breath seemed to catch as she slowed her progress, the lids of her eyes closed ever so slightly, and then she turned to him, letting out a low and raspy laugh. There was an intent gleam in her eye that thrilled and frightened him in the same moment.
“Take me inside, John,” she said, her voice like honey. Her hand left her thigh and slid behind his neck, brushing gently against the short hairs on the back of his neck. Unclipping her seat belt with her other hand, she pulled herself across the seat, almost onto his lap. Pressed against his chest, she brought his lips to her mouth, letting her own slide against his. “Come on, John. Let’s go inside.”
“Well, now, someone’s getting impatient,” he breathed, his own breath coming as quickly as hers had been. He reached down and unbuckled his own seat belt, enjoying the way she moved against him. As he turned for the door, she slid a hand over his chest, kneading his muscles, her expression ravenous. This was definitely a side of her he hadn’t seen, but he was more than willing to see how far she was going to take it.
“Oh, my,” she murmured, as he slid out of the truck, reaching for her. The playful glint in her eye had been replaced with an almost predatory fire.
“You said it,” he muttered, taking her in his arms. She planted her lips hard on his mouth, sucking at his lips hungrily, her hands pulling at his shirt. He forced her back for a moment, not wanting to make a scene in the middle of the street. “Why don’t we get in the house now?”
She groaned in frustration, and then grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the front door with an amazing display of strength. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, not by a long shot. But how long had it been since he had felt like this? To know that there was a woman who wanted him, plain and simple, and more than anything else in this moment. A chance to forget about all the insanity that seemed to follow them around every single day. Just a chance to live. To want, and to be wanted.
Stumbling up the stairs, he pulled the keys out of his jacket, fumbling with the lock as Mo ran her hands over his chest. He just about managed to turn the key and force the door open by the time her hands had begin tugging at his belt, pulling it from his pants with determination. They pressed through the doorway, and she tossed the belt into the living room. The door slammed closed as she shoved him against it, sliding her hands up his arms, over his shoulders. She was practically purring, and her skin was glowing with desire. With little more warning, she pulled his jacket down and tossed it on the floor. In the same moment, she was kissing him furiously, almost violently.
When she paused to catch her breath, as well as she could, just long enough to take hold of his shirt and rip it open, sending buttons tossing to the floor. She burrowed her face against his neck, nipping and suckling at his skin. As she slid a hand down over his waistband, rubbing her fingers over his stiffened crotch, she began working her way farther and farther down his chest.
She lingered for a moment at one nipple, teasing it with her tongue. “John,” she moaned, looking up into his eyes. “I want you, John.” She caught him lightly with her teeth, making him suck in a quick breath. “I want you now.” She let her continued progress down his straining abs emphasize her wish.
“Hold on, now, sweetheart,” he said, putting her at arm’s length. He would have stayed right there, up against the door, but he wanted to move this to a more comfortable venue. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?”
She stepped back, her chest heaving with every breath, her face twisted in confusion. For a moment, he thought that he had somehow offended her by putting her off, but then her lips curled into a wolfish grin. “You want me, don’t you?” she cooed, reaching behind her back to unfasten her dress. From there, she stepped closer towards the staircase, standing in the middle of the living room. She slid a finger under each strap of her dress, teasing it down over her shoulder.
As the dress fell from her body, leaving her standing in nothing more than her bra and panties, he felt a rush of lust run through him. It always thrilled him, the way she held nothing back from him. But there was something about the vision before him that undermined his desire. Her skin was covered with sweat, practically coursing down her body, leaving her the lace of her bra almost transparent against her flesh. The dark contours of her nipples, hard and tight against the fabric, were plainly and tantalizingly visible.
But her breathing was too harsh, too quick, and he could see the strain on her body reflected in the red hot ardor in her gaze. Even as she slid her hands over her chest, reacting to the stimulation of her own touch, he could see that she was pushing herself to her limits. He forced himself to catch his own breath, and then he walked over to her, taking her by the shoulders with his steady hands.
“Mo, baby, is everything all right?” he asked, looking into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“Why, darlin’?” she murmured seductively, sliding her hand into his pants, her fingers coaxing his flesh back to hardness. “Aren’t you?”
“I could be,” he said, his voice low. He wanted nothing more than to toss her down onto the couch, hell, even the floor, and take her right there. And he knew that she wouldn’t resist one damn bit.
“Then come on, John,” she said, kneading him harder. “Take me, John. Do it now.”
Her voice was beginning to tremble, and her ministrations were becoming almost painful in their urgency. Under his hands, she was beginning to shake, her breath erratic. She tried to press herself closer, her eyes growing wild when she realized that he was holding her back. He tried to find her pulse, but it was difficult finding a spot where his grip wouldn’t slip away. Finally finding an artery close to the skin, he could feel the heat in her blood, and it sapped away his desire completely.
“Mo,” he said sternly, reaching down to extract her hand. “Mo, listen to me. Something’s wrong.”
Removing her hand left him unable to keep her at bay, and she pressed herself against him, biting at his chest. “I want you. I need you, John...take me! Come on, just do it...”
He staved off her attempts to reach back into his pants, taking a deep breath as he tried to push her away. “Mo, you need to stop...something’s happening to you. You’re not yourself.”
“Fuck me!” she spat out, her chest heaving. “Please, John, I need you now...just fu...just...” She lapsed into hyperventilation, gasping for breath as she slumped to her knees.
“Mo...Mo!” John dropped to the floor next to her, looking into her face. “Oh, God...Mo, can you hear me? Mo!” Her eyes were rolling back, and she was shuddering uncontrollably, no longer reacting to his attempts to reach her. She finally fell unconscious into his arms, leaving him almost too stunned to react. As soon as he was sure that her breathing was beginning to stabilize, he pulled her from the floor, carrying her in his arms up the stairs towards the bedroom.
“Daoine...Daoine...”
John heard Mo’s whispers, and as he laid her on the bed, he bent down to listen more carefully. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“Daoine,” Mo repeated, but then she was silent, no longer able to hold back the exhaustion.
John watched her for a long moment, convincing himself that she would be all right. Looking at her now, he would have thought that they had just finished a long night of vigorous love. But there was something more to it. That hadn’t been Mo Dannah. Not the woman he knew, anyway. Something had been driving her, and he was determined to find out.
Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed the phone and punched the speed dial. He let it ring several times, knowing that at this time of night, it would take some time for her to answer the phone. But Mo had asked for her specifically, and he had to admit that it was the right choice. Finally, after hanging up and making a second attempt, he got through.
“Dana? Dana, this is John Doggett.” He looked down at Mo, caught by a sudden stab of fear. “Dana, something’s happened. I need your help.”
****
MARCH 23, 2002
12:24 AM
Less than an hour had passed, but when John finally heard the sound of the bedroom door opening, he felt as though it had been an eternity. He stood, forcing himself into some kind of composure, waiting until Scully had closed the door behind her to let the torrent of words rush from his lips.
Scully beat him to it. “She’s fine. Resting.” She took a deep breath, taking in his expression with understanding in her eyes, and then gestured towards the nearest seat. She waited until they were at least sitting down in the chairs, if not comfortably, before continuing.
“She’s showing signs of extreme exhaustion and dehydration. That combination is what caused her to pass out.” Scully shifted in her seat, as if not sure how to approach her next statement. “Her heartbeat is still a bit erratic and her temperature is elevated. There is a noticeable dilation of the pupils and congestion in the sinuses, and to say that she is responsive would be a bit of an understatement.” Scully moistened her lips, gracing John with a tentative glance. “In short, she is exhibiting the classic signs of intense sexual arousal.”
John let out a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, willing the tight muscles to relax. “Well, I can’t say that’s surprising.”
“I know what you told me on the phone,” Scully asked, her tone of voice suggesting that she wanted to be talking about anything but the subject at hand. “But I have to ask again, especially after examining her symptoms…John, are you sure that this isn’t just a case of…”
“No,” John replied curtly, cutting her off. He looked askew, in the direction of the bedroom door. “I know what this must look like, Dana, but something’s wrong. She wasn’t herself when we left Billies, and by the time she passed out, she was practically…” He shook his head, his expression pained. “It just wasn’t like her.”
Scully thought to herself for a moment, and then sighed, rubbing her eyes. “OK, let’s run through this from the beginning again. Was there anything odd that happened before you went to Billies?”
“Nothing I can think of, besides what I told you,” Doggett affirmed. “Neither of us slept well last night. I was still too tense from everything happening around here lately, and I think I kept her up tossing and turning.”
“I remember something about that,” Scully reassured him. “But what about after I left?”
John shrugged. “We went into the city, got some lunch, took a walk down the mall. Nothing unusual. She wanted to know more about Billies, after you mentioned it, and so we decided to go out. We caught a short nap before getting ready, caught some dinner about an hour before we got to the club.”
“So nothing unusual before you got to the club?” Scully pressed.
“No, nothing,” John repeated wearily. “We danced a bit, then sat at the table. I remember Mo was tired, because she was leaning on me when the second set started. Angel was distracted, though, not herself, and when she left to hit the ladies room, Mo went after her to see if everything was all right.” John scowled again. “She came out a little while later, and asked to come home.”
Scully glanced at the bedroom door again. “And that’s when she started acting strangely?”
“Yeah,” John replied, his discomfort returning. “At first, just a bit keyed up. By the time we were here, she was definitely…” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of the delicate way to put it.
“Aroused,” Scully repeated, trying to keep her expression calm and collected.
John nodded, accepting the term. “Things escalated from there.” For just a second, Scully seemed to react to something, and he gave her a penetrating glare. “What? What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” Scully admitted, her brow furrowed in worry. “But this does remind me of a case we once investigated.”
“We?” It only took a moment for John to realize what she meant. “You and Mulder.”
Scully smiled, nodding. “It was about six months after I first started working with Mulder regularly. Maybe a little longer than that. We were investigating a series of deaths, all linked to what was apparently some kind of extreme reaction to pheromones. Sex hormones.”
“Deaths,” John repeated, his expression even more grim than it had been. “People were killed by this?”
“The victims were killed by the physiological response to a flood of hormones causing a rapid, involuntary aroused state,” Scully explained further. She hesitated, knowing what her words would suggest. “The case came to an abrupt end when the suspect, and the cult…he…was a part of, disappeared without a trace. Or close to it.” She grimaced when she saw the question in his eyes. “Don’t ask.”
“All right, but this suspect, he was a member of a cult?” John asked, raising his eyebrows. “What kind of cult are we talking about?”
“To be honest, I’m not even sure we discovered what it was all about,” Scully explained. “They called themselves the Kindred. They lived in a community like the Amish. Nothing modern permitted, isolated from the rest of the world. The suspect had been exposed, perhaps even addicted, to pornography.” Scully sighed. “I can vouch for whatever heightened pheromone levels they claimed to possess, first hand. Whatever it was, it was powerful.”
Doggett nodded to himself. “You said that this cult disappeared?”
“Yes,” Scully confirmed. “And there were never any deaths that matched the same characteristics since.”
John nodded towards the bedroom door. “But you said this reminded you of that…that it was similar.”
Scully gave him a guarded look. “Similar, yes. But I’m not suggesting that Angel is one of these Kindred, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Maybe not,” John allowed, “but you can’t say that for sure, can you?”
Shifting in her chair and letting out an irritated breath, Scully shook her head. “No, of course not. But what you’re suggesting doesn’t make any sense. You know that as well as I do. What could Angel possibly gain by attacking Mo like that?”
“I have no idea,” John replied honestly. “But something happened between them, Dana. You can’t expect me to just sit by and pretend it didn’t.”
“I know,” Scully said, rubbing her eyes again. “Under the circumstances, if it were me, I would probably feel the same way. But John, this just happened. Before you do anything, I think you need to get some rest and take care of Mo. Let a little time pass, and then worry about finding out what happened. Maybe Mo can tell you something that will answer your questions.”
“Yeah,” John muttered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He forced a smile. “Thanks. I know this was bad timing, with William keeping you up last night.”
Scully waved his concerns away, though she yawned as she was doing it. “Not a problem. My mother is going to kill me, one of these days, but this was an emergency. Though I’m not sure why Mo would have asked specifically for me.”
John shrugged as they stood. “I don’t know. Maybe she remembered you were a doctor.”
“I guess,” Scully murmured, but her expression was less certain. “You’re sure that’s what she said?”
John cracked a smile. “What else could she have meant?”
****
11:15 AM
Mo stirred, her eyelids fluttered open. She could tell immediately that she had been sleeping for much longer than usual, and the first attempts at movement sent stabs of pain through her joints. The pain quickly dissolved into a deep, penetrating ache, and she grunted as she twisted to glance at the clock. Her eyes widened as she realized how long she had been sleeping, and she tried to sit up. The movement sent her head spinning, and as she flopped her head back onto the pillow, she felt hands easing her back.
“Hey, careful there,” John said to her, and she glanced in the direction of his voice. He looked like hell. It was obvious that he hadn’t slept much himself.
As the haziness of slumber slowly cleared, she realized that she had twisted the sheets around herself in her sleep, and they were still damp with what she assumed was her own sweat. There was also a familiar scent in the air, and she tried to remember if there had been a good reason for her sleeping so late. It didn’t take long for the realization to set in.
John must have seen the panic in her eyes, because he quickly scooped her up and held her tightly against his chest. “God, Mo, I was thinking you would never wake up…how are you feeling?”
She rested her head against his shoulder, still trying to work out just how many parts of her body were sore and misused. “I’m OK, I think. I’m still a bit tired…and very, very thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water,” John promised, and then he held her by the shoulders, so he could look at her face. “Are you sure you’re all right? Do you remember what happened?”
She looked into his eyes, at the worry and the anger that she saw reflected there, and she nodded.
“Yes, John. I remember.”
****
She curled up her legs close to her chest, accepting the mug of cool water with a tentative smile. Just moving around seemed to work most of the kinks out. John had retrieved her robe from on top of the dresser, and she wrapped it tightly around her body, comforted by its warmth. John sat on the end of the bed with his own mug of coffee, watching her intently.
“It was Angel?” he asked finally, and she nodded.
“I guess that’s the easy way to answer the question,” she added. Faint snapshots of memory flashed through her mind, and for a moment she tried to make sense of them. “I’m not sure exactly. I know that I went after her, to see what was bothering her. She was standing by the sink, I think, and then I reached out and touched her on the shoulder.” She tried to make sense of what she was replaying in her mind, but she finally had to admit it. “Everything after that is a blank.”
John shifted, scratching by his temple, his expression pained. “You mean you don’t remember anything that happened after that?”
She shook her head, and then reminded herself not to do that anymore, when it sent a stab of pain down her neck. “I don’t even remember coming back to the house. Or for that matter, getting into bed.” She gestured at the pile of sheets, now conveniently balled up on the floor. “I assume we had an interesting night.”
John smiled slightly, but it was a rueful smile. “Not exactly.” He calmly explained what had happened the night before. As he told her what she had done, the memories began to slowly return. She could remember the intensity of her passions, the driving need to have him inside of her, ravaging her. He must have noticed her expression, because he paused in his account. “Are you all right?”
“I can hardly believe it,” Mo admitted. “But I’m beginning to remember, I think. Though I’m still not sure why this happened.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead as she closed her eyes, willing the memories to return. “And what then?”
“You collapsed,” John replied, and then he gestured towards the bed. “I brought you up here, so I could check you out. You kept asking for Scully, so once I was sure-”
“Hold on,” Mo said quickly, cutting him off. “I did what?”
John laughed, his own expression of surprise matching hers. “Believe me, I was just as shocked as you are.” His expression quickly sobered, and he sighed. “I don’t know…I thought maybe something had happened that you thought ought to be kept in confidence. With all the craziness around here, and what happened to Monica…well, I was a lot more inclined to call Scully over than take you to a hospital.”
She thought about the images in her mind, and the strong impulses that still came with the recollection, and she nodded. “Probably for the best. But it’s still strange that I would have asked for Dana.” Speaking the name forced something out of the muddled recesses of her mind, and she went still. “Wait…are you sure that I asked for Scully?”
“Absolutely,” John replied with a nod. He took a sip of his coffee, thinking it over. “You kept repeating ‘Dana’, over and over, until you finally just passed out cold.”
“I see,” Mo murmured. She was now beginning to remember much, much more from her experience, and she was positive that she had not been asking John to call Scully to the house to help her. That had been an unfortunate and potentially embarrassing misunderstanding, but for the moment, it didn’t concern her. She knew what she had really said, and who she had been referring to. “John…I want you to tell me what you know about Angel. All of it.”
“Angel,” John repeated, scowling. He took a long sip from his coffee, sliding off the end of the bed. “That’s a long story.”
“And if you want me to tell you something useful,” Mo observed, “then I have to know what I’m dealing with.” She gave him an amused glance. “You’re worried about how all of this might fit into the bigger picture, aren’t you? Then tell me what that is, and we can help each other through this.”
He regarded her with uncertainty, and then relented with a long sigh. “I know, I know. It’s just that I wanted to keep you away from all of this, Mo. You shouldn’t have to worry about this…this insanity.”
“No one should,” Mo agreed. “But darlin’, we’ve been over this too many times to go through it again now. I came here to be a part of your life, instead of someplace you go to escape from it. I never fooled myself into thinking it would be easy.” Or, she thought to herself, this damned hard.
John nodded, but his anxiety was apparent as he began pacing slowly back and forth at the foot of the bed. “I guess I ought to start at the beginning. About a year ago, Scully ran across this antique store in Georgetown. Angel is the owner. They became fast friends, and when Mulder left last summer, Angel started inviting us to Billies.” John hesitated, and then shook his head. “Anyway, that’s not as important as what everyone keeps saying about the items in her store.”
“What do they say?” Mo asked calmly, even though she already had some idea.
“That they retained some kind of copy or imprint of memories from the people who owned them.” John stopped for second, considering his words. “I know, it’s not anything new for you. I remember hearing something just like it from Vaia.”
Mo took a deep breath. “And this has something to do with William?”
“Not directly,” John replied. “More something to do with me. With Luke.” He placed the mug of coffee on the dresser, and ran his hands over his face, his eyes haunted. “Right after Luke was murdered, I wound up in a store just like Angel’s. Same kinds of items, even. I had this St. Christopher’s medal, I gave it to Luke when he was younger…and I just couldn’t hold on to it anymore. So when the woman running the store suggested that I give it to her, that it might help someone else…”
Mo nodded. Suddenly, so many of John’s comments over the past few months, the hesitations and obvious omissions, were falling into place. “Scully. It wound up with Scully, didn’t it?”
“Not just that,” John said, confirming Mo’s guess. “But when I found out that Angel gave it to Scully, about three months ago? We started looking into Angel’s past history. Turns out that Billies, Scully’s bedroom, Angel’s store, and all these other places related to us and the X-Files…all of them were protected from outside surveillance. Angel had us meet in Billies because that’s where we could gather safely. She knew about what we were dealing with, and made sure that we had a way to get around it, even just to talk things over.”
Mo raised her eyebrows. “Wouldn’t that be more of a help, than something sinister?”
“Depends on how you look at it,” John countered. “We found a connection between the two women running the antique stores, and we went from there. You know what we found? There’s been a store like this in a couple dozen places over the past fifty years, but never in more than one place at a time. And every time, it’s a different woman running the store. And every time…every time, Mo, the store closes shop and the woman running it disappears, just after a child is reported missing.”
“And this store that you visited after Luke died,” Mo asked tentatively. “It closed down?”
“Right after I was there,” he replied. He let out a disbelieving laugh. “And the craziest part of all? Angel goes by the name Angel Rose, but it’s short for Angela Rose Almazan. That’s the name of a young girl that was reported missing about ten years ago in the Philippines, close to where one of these stores happened to be.” John shook his head. “And there, in that store? She used the name Samantha Mulder.”
“Mulder?” Mo asked, and then she remembered. “Wait a second…that’s Dana’s old partner. William’s father. Who’s Samantha?”
“Mulder’s sister,” Doggett answered gravely. “She was reported missing back in 1973, from her home. Mulder started working on the X-Files trying to find out what happened to her. The last thing he heard, she had been part of some kind of government experiment for six years, and then she up and disappeared from a hospital room.” He laughed grimly. “He said she was made into starlight or some bullshit like that. Saved from a horrible death.”
Mo looked at the pain and anguish in his eyes, and she knew that talking about this, any of this, was like torture. But the story he was telling explained his reservations and his fears. “You wonder whether or not she had something to do with Luke’s death. Whether or not she knew it was going to happen.”
“She knew,” John said with certainty. “She knew something, whoever she really is. And from what the others say, that’s not all. She can get into your head, just like that Victor Rios or Thomas McShane. Make you forget things. Maybe even make you feel things.” He slid onto the end of the bed, his eyes blazing with intensity. “Can’t you see why I know she had something to do with this? Why it scares the shit out of me to think that she knew you were coming? And then for this…” He gestured towards her, and then ran his hand through his mussed hair. “I can’t let this go on.”
Mo could see the look on his face, the way he was steeling himself to act, and something gripped her cold in her heart. “John, wait,” she said, placing her mug on the nightstand and reaching out for him. Her sore muscles protested, but she forced herself to ignore them. “I know that you’re feeling threatened, and that you’re doing this because someone hurt me. But I don’t think it was intentional, John. You have to believe me when I say that.”
“You don’t think it was,” John retorted, “but you don’t know that it wasn’t, do you?” He stood, grabbing his mug of coffee and heading for the door. “But I’m tired of being manipulated by every God-damned maniac and conspiracy on the planet.” He pulled the door open, and then turned back towards her. “I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Not here,” Mo replied. “Not for me. I don’t want you to do this, John.”
“I know,” John said, and for a moment, Mo thought that he actually might listen. But then he just pressed his lips tight in anger. “I’m sorry. Get some rest, sweetheart. This shouldn’t take long.”
“John,” she called out, as he stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. “John!” She waited a moment for him to reply, hoping that he would find some sense of control, but it was too late. She knew him well enough to know when he was pushed to his limits, and his self-control had been crumbling under the rising pressure for weeks.
But if she understood his concerns correctly, he was risking more than just his own pride or safety by confronting Angel. If Angel was setting them up for something terrible, he could easily make it happen that much sooner. She could never forgive herself, if her decision to come to him now would end with people getting killed.
Only, she knew better, didn’t she? Maybe even John knew the truth, even if he couldn’t admit it. Angel was something other than human, and if what she had felt during their connection the night before had been any indication, she was something much more. There had been no malice involved in what she had experienced, nothing negative at all. Only a great deal of uncertainty and confusion, and a pervasive sense of dread.
Knowing that her time was short, Mo reached over for the phone, pulling it onto the bed. She glanced at the speed dial numbers, and thanked the Lady that the person she was looking for was listed.
“Craig?” she asked, as soon as someone answered the phone. “This is Mo Dannah.”
“Mo?” she heard, and there was a scuffling in the background as Craig moved around. “Sorry…I was grabbing a short nap…how are you doing, anyway? Angel said you weren’t feeling too well last night.”
“I wasn’t,” Mo admitted, though she knew that Craig hadn’t gotten the full story. “But that’s not important right now. Craig…John’s looking for Angel. He intends to confront her about what’s been happening.”
“Shit,” Craig breathed. “Sorry…it’s just that I’ve been worried that this was coming for a while now. To be honest, I’m surprised that it’s taken this long.”
“I know,” Mo agreed, and then she took a deep breath. “Craig, I need you to catch him before he gets to Angel. I need you to talk him out of this.”
“I think I can do that,” Craig replied. “What about you?”
“Me?” Mo asked, and she sighed, not quite sure she believed what she was doing.
“I’m going to find Angel myself.”
****
ALEXANDRIA, VA
12:57 PM
Craig was waiting on the steps outside of the apartment building when Doggett arrived. He could tell that John had seen him, because he sat in his truck for just a moment longer than he would have otherwise. Craig decided to consider that a sign of respect.
“Go home, John,” he called out, as soon as Doggett was out of his truck and stalking towards the building. He stood, holding up his hands in supplication. “You’re not going to accomplish anything here.”
“Get the hell out of my way, Craig,” John shot back. “This doesn’t have a thing to do with you.”
“Oh, I think it does,” Craig replied, stepping in John’s path. “And I think you know why.”
John glanced towards the front door, and then shook his head. “You know, I don’t understand you. More than anyone, you’ve got to know that she’s hiding something. Why are you protecting her, when you know what she’s done?”
“Because I love her, John,” Craig said simply. He saw the look on John’s face, and let loose his typical grin. “I’d think that was a good enough reason.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” John said, pointing up at the door. “Scully already told me that you know we’ve been investigating her. This is something I should have done a long time ago.”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Craig admitted, as his grin faded. He looked intently into John’s eyes. “So why haven’t you?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” John said, glancing up and down the street. “We’ve had a hell of a lot of other things on our minds, Craig. Like a child abduction, friends close to death? That usually takes priority.”
“Oh, I know it does,” Craig said, waving him off. “But I can’t help but notice how you conveniently forget how Angel was willing to put her own life on the line to prevent those things from happening.”
“I didn’t forget a damned thing,” John countered, but Craig could see that the certainty in his eyes was wavering. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Nothing she does makes sense.”
“And that’s a good reason to run up those stairs, question her like a common criminal?” Craig shrugged, and then started walking up the stairs. About halfway up, he looked back at Doggett. “Well, if that’s the kind of action you’re looking for, why not question me? You already know I committed murder.”
John let out a frustrated breath, glaring at Craig. “Damn it, Craig, have I ever held that against you?”
Craig stopped at the door, shaking his head, gracing John with a tolerant smile. “Not once, my friend. So why judge Angel, when you know even less about her?”
John laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. There are things you just don’t know.”
Craig pulled the door open, gesturing inside. “Then why don’t you come and explain it to me?”
****
GEORGETOWN, DC
1:14 PM
Mo stood outside of the antique store, staring at the arrangement of items in the window. There was nothing especially unique about them. A person could probably buy something similar cheaply enough, if that’s what they wanted. If what John had explained to her was true, though, that would explain why these things would hold a unique value. Fitting, she thought, that the sign over the door read “Things Remember”.
She pushed the door open calmly, glancing at the shelves with their arrangement of offerings with fascination. So many pieces of lives, slivers of memory, sharing a journey to another soul that might find some lesson or deeper meaning in reliving them. What kind of person would decide to keep watch over such things, see to their comings and goings, make certain that they arrived in the hands of those who needed them the most?
“They’re not for sale.”
Mo turned towards the source of the voice, and she saw Angel standing by the counter, her hair down over her bare shoulders. Mo noticed that Angel looked just as ragged as she had the night before, perhaps even more so, and a hint of fear rushed through her. She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat, forcing herself to ignore her instinct to run.
“It works on trade,” Angel continued, gesturing towards the nearest shelf. “People exchange their own memories, held within these cherished objects, for the memories and experiences that they think they need.” Angel looked back towards Mo. “In most cases, they choose what they are meant to choose.”
“So I’ve heard,” Mo said finally. She glanced at one of the displays by the door, at a black ribbon collar, wondering idly what might be held within that fabric, what sights and sounds might rush through her mind, were she to touch it, wear it.
“Yes, I thought you might have,” Angel replied. She stepped behind the counter, and then took a seat against the wall. “It’s good to see that you’re well.”
“Still a bit sore,” Mo admitted, “but otherwise, I’m feeling better, yes.” She took a few tentative steps towards the counter. “Can you explain to me what happened last night?”
Angel hesitated, licking her lips, as though not entirely sure how to put it into words. “You could say that right now I’m experiencing some...difficulty...maintaining control. When you touched my skin...”
“When I touched your skin, we connected somehow,” Mo surmised. “I shared your condition...became aroused.” She regarded Angel with awe. “Like I was in heat.”
Angel’s expression darkened, but she nodded slightly. “The effect is the same. But that’s not important. What’s important is that you were never meant to experience that.”
“None of us are,” Mo pointed out. She tapped herself on the chest. “None of us. That’s what you said to me.”
“You remember,” Angel said, smirking slightly. “I thought you would.”
Mo took a deep breath, fighting off the impatience that was beginning to rise. “Please. I just want to understand what’s happening here.”
Angel laughed. “You think it’s that simple?” She pointed to Mo, regarding her with sadness. “You touched a part of me. You must know that I’m not what I appear to be.”
Mo nodded, stepping closer to the counter. “I know you’re not human. I could feel that you were connected to...to everything. Reacting to wider impulses and instincts.” She tried to find the right words, but she could only shake her head. “I can still feel it, like in a dream.” She stared at Angel with fascination. “You’re ageless, timeless...”
“All life is connected, Morgan,” Angel said, gracing her with a smile. “You know that instinctively, more than any of the others. Even Craig, I think, hasn’t embraced that truth quite so much as you have. But then, he was taught to use his abilities to harm, not to heal.” She gestured towards the other end of the counter, where a table and chairs sat in the corner of the room. “Shall we sit?”
Mo considered the invitation, and then chose one of the seats, sitting where she could keep an eye on Angel. “What you say, I’ve heard many times before. But I’ve never felt anything like that before. As though I were...a single drop of water, suspended within an endless ocean. I was myself, and yet I was part of something vast. A single, guiding will.” She shook her head, overwhelmed by her own memory. “The sentience of the universe itself, expressing its will through a living being.”
“More than one, actually,” Angel replied, correcting her gently. She sat in the chair across the table from Mo, respecting her desire to maintain out of arm’s reach. “The universe exists on infinite levels, Morgan, on a multiplexity of interaction that you can only conceive of in your wildest imaginings. Interacting on a physical level requires physical form. Interacting in many places at once requires more than one form.”
Mo’s eyes widened. “Your people...what are they called?”
“We have many names,” Angel answered with a slight smile. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as though cleansing her mind of the distracting demands of her body. “We have been here for a very long time, Morgan. In every time, every place, we have been seen in any number of ways. Some people have thought us gods. Some think we are God. Others believe us to be the children of angels.”
“Yes,” Mo breathed, understanding now why she had repeated the name that John had thought was a request for Scully. “When I was affected by your condition, struggling with what I had touched, I recognized the hallmarks of what my ancestors would have called Daoine Sidhe. Children of the Goddess.” She placed her hands on the surface of the table, not caring that they were plainly shaking. “Why are you here? What do you want of John, or William?”
Angel leaned forward, looking Mo in the eye. “We are here, Morgan, to maintain balance. The balance between the desire to create a commonality, and the natural impulses to surrender to entropy. That balance is reflected in the evolution of all life, in every corner of creation. Intelligence rises from its childhood into the greater intelligence through the physical to the purity of consciousness.
“We guide the process.”
****
Craig reached into the back of the refrigerator, grabbing a couple bottles of beer. He glanced over at John, who was leaning against the door jam, and he sighed as he handed one of the bottles to his friend. John hesitated, as if aware that Craig was using the gesture as a delaying tactic. But he took the bottle and slumped onto one of the old wooden chairs sitting haphazardly around Craig’s tiny kitchen table. Craig pulled the bottle opener out of a drawer, tossing it to John once he was done with it. As John opened his bottle with a harsh jerk, Craig grabbed one of the other chairs. Turning it around, he straddled the seat, leaning against the chair’s back.
“So are you going to tell me what it is Angel has done?” Craig said, looking at John with what he hoped was a neutral and open expression. Inside, he felt as though his heart was being squeezed with every passing moment.
John took a long pull from his bottle, and then leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table as he rubbed his rough fingers over his chin. “She’s not who she says she is, Craig.”
“Then who is she?” Craig asked, but then he held up a hand, shaking his head. “Wait. Forget I asked. I don’t think that matters, does it?”
“Yes, no, maybe,” John replied, shrugging with a desperate laugh. “I don’t have a damn clue. I don’t know what it is she wants from us. Whatever it is, it has something to do with my son. She knows something, Craig, and she has some kind of plan for William.”
“I know.” Before John could demand more information, Craig quickly continued. “I don’t know what it is, but I am sure that she’s trying to keep him safe. And I would think that her efforts to keep all of us alive and protected over the past year ought to back that up.” He saw John’s doubt, and gave him a penetrating glare. “Damn it, John, if William needs to be protected, who do you think would do it?”
“Us,” John admitted. He placed his bottle on the table. “But if that’s the case, why not just come out and say so? Why the secrecy? And why not make all of her resources available to us, so we can strike back instead of constantly reacting to what’s done to us?”
Craig shook his head. “Now’s not the time. Even I can see that, John. Act now, go too far, while they have the upper hand...it would be suicide.”
“Better than sitting back and letting them pick us off, one by one,” John replied back angrily.
“Doesn’t that depend on your ultimate goal?” Craig countered. “I agree, if it’s just about exposing as much as you can in the time you have left.” He gestured towards John with the top of his bottle. “You already tried that tactic, last summer. Remember why that eventually came to a grinding halt?”
John nodded as he began to see Craig’s point. “William. Mulder convinced the others to sabotage the investigation, so he could keep William safe.”
Craig nodded with a knowing grin. “I may not have been in the Corps, John, but even I know that when you have a single asset that must be protected, it’s better to preserve as much of your defensive potential as possible, for as long as possible. In this case, that might just mean getting picking off one by one.”
“She should still have explained her reasoning,” John said, refusing to let the logic of the situation defuse his anger. “And it doesn’t even begin to explain half a dozen other things. Like why she’s using the name of a girl reported missing over ten years ago. Or how she’s connected to the women who ran the exact same kind of antique stores, using the names of other children abducted over the past fifty years, always in places where another child is abducted.”
Craig absorbed the information with a wince. So that was part of the secret. “I don’t know about any of that. But it does make a kind of sense.”
John peered at Craig, looking in his face as if the answers to his questions were written there. “Sense? How is that?”
Craig looked up at John with a rueful grin. “Did it ever occur to you, John, that all of those women are Angel?”
John blinked with surprise and confusion. “How is that possible?”
“It’s not,” Craig admitted, but his grin remained. “Unless, of course, Angel’s not human.”
****
“We first came here when life emerged on this world,” Angel said, her eyes slightly unfocused as she spoke, her words slipping dreamily from her lips. “We saw countless species rise and fall, over millions of years, until one day we recognized the first signs of the evolutionary path that would lead to humanity. We watched as life flourished and struggled, until the beginnings of the primal human intelligence began to shine through.”
She turned slightly to look into Mo’s eyes. “Being what you might call pure consciousness, only taking form when necessary, we exist outside of the boundaries of time as you perceive it. We know the possible futures, try to prevent the circumstances that will eventually break down the balance between dark and light. We saw the potential in the emerging humanity. We also knew that there would come a time, a critical juncture, when humanity’s potential would be unleashed.”
Mo saw something in Angel’s expression, and she shuddered, realizing what Angel was telling her. “It’s coming, isn’t it? It’s coming soon.”
“It’s happening now,” Angel said softly. Letting out a long sigh, she shook her head. “Like any young child, humanity is vulnerable to older and more experienced beings. Within the unity of the sentient, aware universe, the individual will remains. Individuals come together and represent a common impulse.”
“Impulses,” Mo repeated with a nod. “To preserve balance, or...”
“To break it down,” Angel finished for her. “And because breaking down that balance is itself an expression of entropy, the forces that oppose entropy work to retain that balance, as the ultimate expression of dynamic unity.”
Mo licked her lips, trying to keep track of her swirling and conflicted thoughts. So much of what Angel was telling her matched her own experience, everything that her intuition had revealed to her throughout her life.
“Why is humanity special?” Mo found herself asking, from among all of the possible choices. “What makes us different?”
“Because in your youth and arrogance,” Angel replied with sorrow, “those among your species who wish to control your evolution also believe that you are attaining perfection. A perfection that rises above all other life, and would eventually stand as the foundation to seek the extermination of all such life.”
Mo recoiled in horror, almost unable to believe that such a thing could be possible. “How could we do such a thing?”
“Out of arrogance, as I said,” Angel answered, “but also ignorance. Convinced, by a devious and ancient malevolence, that Purity is the most efficient means of enforcing unity.” Angel sighed. “When it was clear that humanity would be manipulated into tinkering with their own evolution, pushed by the apparent threat of invasion by outside forces, my people introduced subtle changes to the human genome. The bulk of humanity would never benefit from those changes, but select populations would intuitively understand and interact with the greater intelligence in all things.”
Mo nodded when Angel mentioned intuition. “If that’s the case, then why these people? Why William, or Samantha Mulder, or Luke Doggett? How do they fit into all of this?”
Angel smiled, and Mo knew that this was what she had been meant to hear. “Both sides in this conflict know that the only way to win is to exterminate the people who represent the pawns of the opposition. Those who serve chaos mean to force their genetic engineering on the world population. Most of those who exhibit the abilities that my people introduced will fall to that effort.
“We knew this would happen, and so we ensured that during every generation, several hundred men and women would be born with the potential for full awareness. They would reach that awareness when needed, when any of the spaces where the natural barriers between the physical and the ephemeral were thin or fractured. They have been called many things over the millennia...shamans, medicine men, seers, prophets.
“In this time, they call themselves sentinels.”
****
“Not human?” John repeated, cracking a wry grin. “What, you expect me to believe that she’s some kind of alien? Is that what you believe?”
Craig shrugged. “I have no idea what I believe, John. But no, I don’t expect you to believe it. At least, not so far as to admit it, even to yourself. But you know what else I think?” He tapped himself on the chest, over his heart. “In here? You already knew that Angel might not be human. And I think that’s why you waited until now, until something happened to Mo. Until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
John stared at Craig for a moment, as though the younger man had lost his mind. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” Craig pressed. “You may not admit it to yourself, my friend, but when push comes to shove, you believe and accept a hell of a lot more than you claim.”
“I think I know my own mind, Craig,” John snapped back, grabbing his bottle angrily and leaning back in his chair. “Do yourself a favor, and don’t try telling me that I don’t know what I’m really feeling.”
“All right,” Craig said with a curt nod. “Then why don’t you tell me why it took you all this time to confront Angel?”
“I already told you,” John growled, tossing back his beer before continuing. “We’ve had a hell of a lot more on our minds lately.”
“The past few weeks, sure,” Craig agreed. “But you’ve known all of this for a couple months, John. And we both know that most of that time, you had nothing better to do. When was the last time you were assigned to a case? The beginning of the year? Why not confront her then, if you knew just as much, and you were supposedly just as concerned for William’s welfare?”
When John didn’t answer, Craig pushed forward. “I’ll tell you why. Because somewhere, deep down, you knew that with all of her abilities and all of the questions and connections in her past, Angel couldn’t possibly be a normal human being. She represents everything that you’ve been trying so hard to deny.”
“Like hell,” John muttered, after a hard swallow. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s an unknown quantity. Confronting her without any kind of reason could have set her after William sooner rather than later, or taken away her protection needlessly.”
“So you’re after her now, because something odd happened between her and Mo?” Craig asked with a smirk. “Something that has nothing to do with William. But it does force you to face what you don’t want to admit.”
Craig saw the conflict in John’s eyes, and he leaned forward to look Doggett in the face. “You’ve seen things that would have challenged even the most hardened skeptic to reconsider his assumptions. Christ, John, you were there when they dug up Mulder after three months in the ground, and he’s alive right now. You saw what Thomas was able to accomplish with a thought. You’ve seen men survive being crushed, only to heal completely in hours. So why do you still hold back?”
“What would you have me do?” John rasped. Pain danced behind his eyes. “Damn it, if I admit that these things are possible, that anyone might be able to do the things these people do...” He stopped, looking away.
Craig sat and watched John struggle with his emotions, and remembered when he had struggled with his own doubts and recriminations. The two of them had each found a way to live for years within the illusion of control, blinding themselves from the harsh reality to which they had been introduced. Craig had spent nine years doing things that he had believed were for the greater good, but with John’s help, he had seen that his loyalty had been forced through disinformation and outright lies.
Ever since the death of his son, John had spent the past five years immersed in the comforts of a strictly rational universe, where all things could be explained through the laws of evidence and proof. But that house of cards had been built on a soft foundation from the very beginning. In Monica Reyes, John had a friend who believed in all of the things that he couldn’t accept or acknowledge, the only other person to share in his vision of Luke’s body reduced to ash.
“Why did you ask Monica to join you on the X-Files?”
John turned back towards him, surprised by the question. “What does that have to do with anything? She’s someone I can trust, Craig. And I knew that she would be perfect for those kinds of cases.”
“But also a reminder, both in person and in ability, of the things you cannot accept as possible,” Craig pointed out. “The one person, more than anyone, who could answer the questions about your son’s death.”
“You have a point to make?” John shot back.
“Just the same point I’ve been trying to make,” Craig said evenly. “You could have gotten yourself reassigned from the X-Files any number of times if you chose, but instead, you remained. You chose Monica to work on these cases. You consistently place yourself into situations where your apparent inability to believe must be challenged.
“John, a part of you wants to believe, the part of you that accepts that your son’s death was the result of something you couldn’t anticipate or prevent.” He saw John’s refusal on the man’s lips, and continued before it could be spoken. “With Monica so close, you have the best chance for finding answers sitting right next to you every single day.
“So why would you choose to confront Angel, when the only way she could possibly be connected to Luke’s death would be something you cannot accept?”
John looked as though he might answer, but then all of his anger and rage simply collapsed. “I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I don’t know what the hell is happening anymore.” He looked into Craig’s eyes, searching for some kinship and understanding. “I just have to do something.”
“I know,” Craig murmured. “But not this.”
“She knows something, Craig,” John said with resignation. “She knows what happened to my son.”
No longer worried about protecting Angel from John’s anger, realization dawned on Craig as he thought about what John’s repeated accusations really meant. He closed his eyes, unsure whether now was the right time to confront John with this damning truth. But he recognized that speaking the truth now would simply be the kind of repayment he had been searching for, a way to thank John for helping him find a new lease on life.
“Maybe she does know something,” Craig said finally. “But John...if she did know that it was going to happen, if she knew that your son was going to be taken and killed...why didn’t she prevent it from happening?”
“You see?” John said, his expression hardening, as though Craig had justified his earlier anger. “If she knew, and she can do all of this...” He gestured towards the walls, in reference to her ability to hide from outside surveillance. But before he could continue, he stopped, deep in thought.
“Yes,” Craig murmured, but not so loudly as to force John to answer. “With all of those gifts, and so much ability, so many resources, if she did know...what stopped her from preventing Luke’s death?”
****
Angel sighed, a sound of complete and utter weariness. “We’ve always had some of our own kind, hidden among you, watching and waiting for the signs that something might have changed. That the critical time was approaching. And that did come, just over fifty years ago. In a very short period of time, we determined where it would begin, and sent one of our people there. It was a mistake. He was killed, and nothing changed.”
She saw the confusion in Mo’s eyes, and then waved off the obvious question. “That’s not important, not now. In the wake of that incident, the seeds planted by Hitler and those like him around the world, the application of eugenics, all of that took on a much more dangerous direction. People were catalogued, abducted, subjected to experiments. Especially those whose DNA carried the markers of something extra...something more.”
She closed her eyes, reliving the moments as she recounted them. “We knew that the elder sentinels, the ones that had already been awakened, would be able to fight for themselves, or at least attempt a defense. But those who were just being born, identified before they could understand what they were and why they were being targeted...we had to do something. They had to be preserved.” She opened her eyes, and with a rueful smile, she looked into Mo’s astounded gaze.
“So we removed them.”
“Removed them?” Mo repeated, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“We took them out of this world, and into ours,” Angel explained. She saw that Mo didn’t understand, and she let out another weary sigh. “They were born with the potential to become like my people, beings of pure consciousness. We selected specific children, the ones with the greatest potential, and we made sure that if they were in danger of being killed before they could achieve that potential...”
“Made into starlight,” Mo whispered. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she realized what had happened. “Luke. Luke was one of those children.”
Angel nodded, her own eyes welling with tears. “I had been charged with the responsibility, since the death of my elder brother. It was my place to watch over the shifting strands of time, to make sure that I would be in the right place at the exact moment I might be needed. To make certain that all would come to pass as it had to be. Directing the critical people into the right places, saving those children that we needed and were threatened.” A tear traced down her cheek. “Once...only once did I fail to act, and Luke Doggett paid the price.”
Mo thought she had understood, but now she wasn’t so sure. “You didn’t know Luke was in danger?”
Angel smiled, but there was nothing but sorrow in her expression. “I knew. I was ready. But my mistake...” She stopped, closing her eyes again. “Sometimes...sometimes, Morgan, those with potential are out of balance in other ways. In those instances, it is my duty to ensure that the potential remains untapped. Even if that means letting them die. But I let one live. His potential was so great, and in my own arrogance, I was sure that I could control him.”
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward, holding out her hands. “I will show you. Take my hands. Don’t worry, I am under control for a time. Nothing will come through but the memory of what happened that day.”
Mo leaned forward, but she hesitated to reach out and make contact. “Why are you showing me this?”
“Because you need to understand, Morgan. I need you to understand why I am going to ask you to do something very difficult. Perhaps the most difficult thing you have ever done.” She held out her hands as far as she could. “Please.”
Mo saw the pain in Angel’s eyes, and realized that the woman was harboring a terrible pain. Angel needed to share it with someone, and she had been chosen for some reason. After all that she had heard, and seeing that pain, how could she even consider doing otherwise? Tentatively, trying to prepare herself for what might be coming, she reached out for Angel’s hands and took them tightly in her own. As she closed her eyes, the darkness began to swirl with color, and through the sudden rush of sensation and sound, she heard a voice.
“See, Morgan Dannah. See...and understand...”
****
LONG ISLAND CITY, NY
AUGUST 12, 1997
She closed her eyes as felt the familiar pang in her gut, that same reaction that she always had when the time was coming ever so close now. How many times had it been now? More than she could remember. But in a very short time, that number would be increased, and a father would be sent on a search that would lead him to places he had never dreamt of.
She took a deep breath to compose herself, and then reached out, using senses that she wasn’t even aware she had. It was on the level of pure instinct, touching mind to mind, as she had since the moment she was truly “born”, a new voice in the endless and infinite multitudes. She could feel his fear, his pain. He was lying on a dirty mattress, his hands bound behind his back, a rag tied tightly over his mouth. Light from a small window close to the ceiling revealed a bare and unkempt room.
Luke Doggett. Just as with so many others, the dark ones had recognized his potential, and they had wanted to twist it, destroy it, defile it. The man that had taken Luke from his neighborhood had been consumed by the fire of chaos. She could feel it now, saturating everything around the boy. She would have to go to him soon, open the gateway between the physical world and the ephemeral, take him to the space between where the others were also awaiting their rebirth. To wait until the day he could be returned to his father’s waiting arms.
Taking another calming, balancing breath, she walked over to the door of her shop and turned the sign. It was unlikely that anyone could enter this place without her knowledge. Those who were meant to come, she knew about long before they even realized that they needed her. Only those who had been unfettered of human limitations could possibly have the ability to circumvent her defenses, and they would know better. It wasn’t until she heard his voice, a moment later, that she realized how wrong she was in that assumption.
“Hello, Maureen,” he said, stepping out from behind one of the displays.
She turned, startled despite herself. “You.” She glared at him, glancing at the object in his hand. It was a wooden box, one that she recognized well. She had acquired it for her client several years earlier from the Waicha, one of the communities that she had fostered and preserved in seclusion for centuries. Inside would be a ceremonial knife, carved with glyphs and totems of protection and balance. “What do you want?”
The man smiled, holding up the box, giving it a shake. “Information. I need to know more about the people who made this. My own attempts to learn more have been limited in success. And as I cannot leave the people in my care for long periods of time, the time required to go and find these people myself...well, you see my problem.”
“Yes, of course,” she breathed, alarmed as she realized that her attempts to confirm his sincerity were being thwarted. “I told you. It comes from Mexico. A tribe called the Waicha.”
“I remember,” he replied, nodding slightly. He stepped away from the display, looking into her eyes impassively. “But you see, when I attempt to determine how this blade was meant to be used, I find that something is missing. A context, you might call it. The way the Waicha intended it to fit within their own rituals.”
She felt a rush of fear, and through her link with Luke, she could hear movement outside of the room in which he was held captive. She felt his dread, shared in his frantic struggles to free himself. Forcing herself to concentrate on ending this fruitless conversation, she gestured towards the door.
“Now is not the proper time for this,” she said as she reached to open the door for the man. “Perhaps tomorrow...”
The man reached out, grabbing her wrist, preventing her from unlocking the door. “Perhaps now.”
The contact of his skin against hers ought to have been more than enough to allow her to see his full intentions, but even now he was blocking her. She felt only a hint of his disdain, a cold and terrible sense of obligation and entitlement. In that moment, without anything more, she knew that he was aware of what was happening, and that he had chosen this exact time to make his demands.
“No,” she whispered. “No, you cannot do this. This is not our way!”
He let go of her hand, as if aware that she would not try to force him away, not with so much at stake. Any attempt to call on her full resources to fight him off now would only leave her with too little to save Luke. But as the sounds outside of that door came closer, she knew that time was running out.
“How many times have we played this game of give and take?” he said casually, as he slid a finger along the nearest shelf. “How many times have I come to you, offering something of value, just to get some small fraction of what you know I need to survive, to fulfill my purpose? Acting as though I were just another one of your ‘customers’, some poor soul in need of direction or revelation.” He waved a finger at her. “Not this time.”
“You of all people must understand that there is a larger balance to consider,” she said, pleading. “That lies at the very foundation of everything we’re working for.”
He laughed. “What does that have to do with us?” He shook his head, still laughing. “You made us to do whatever is necessary to prevent that future that shakes you to the core. Where was your precious sense of balance then? Where were you when I was a child, not much older than the one you’re spying on in your mind’s eye, with a madman trying to end my life?”
“I did what was needed,” she replied, remembering that night all too well.
“Ah, yes,” he murmured. “You woke me up, just in time to fight off my own attacker. And then left me to figure it all out on my own.” His smile faded. “No more of that. This knife is the weapon that we need to use, that much I am certain of. Without the proper ritual, it’s less than worthless.”
“And I can provide that information at any time,” she cried out, no longer worried about her own composure. She saw the door open through Luke’s eyes, felt the tearing in her own throat as he screamed in futility as his kidnapper stepped into the room. If she were to act now, it would be difficult to get Luke away without revealing the hidden place to the enemy. But it could still be done.
He smiled, as if knowing exactly what she was experiencing. “I don’t think so. You see, as much as I find your little rules convenient, I fully intend to keep to them.” He stepped closer, looking into her eyes. “Give me what I want, and in return, I will allow you to save the boy.”
“How dare you!” she hissed, pain ripping through her arms as Luke was pulled up by his bound wrists, tossed onto his stomach on the soiled mattress. “You would do such a thing? Be that boy’s executioner?”
“Don’t,” he warned, his expression darkening. “Don’t presume to dictate ethics to me, when you make those choices every single moment of every single day.” He chuckled derisively. “For every child you’ve saved, how many have you allowed to die? All because they didn’t meet your standards. Your needs.”
“Please,” she begged, barely grabbing for the wall as her legs lost strength, as pain ripped through her back and gut. What Luke was enduring now, she couldn’t even bring herself to put into conscious awareness. She could feel something inside of him giving way, hope shattering with his innocence. “Please, don’t do this!”
As she slumped to her knees against the wall, he knelt down, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Give me what I want. Agree to it, and you can save him.” He saw her hesitation, and then he huffed out a derisive sound. “So be it. His life is on your head.”
“No!” She felt a surge of hope rush through Luke as someone walked through the door, and for that shared moment, she wondered if someone had managed to intervene. But then she heard the shouts of indignation, and Luke was being tossed to the floor as his attacker left him to his fate. Knowing that this was the very last moment, her very last chance, she tried to take herself into that space, extend herself as much as possible, even if it was just enough to pull him out without preamble. But she felt something constrict around her, grounding her within her physical frame, and then he was gazing at her again, emerald eyes flashing.
“Do you know what your mistake was?” he whispered, as she sobbed against the wall. “Like so many of your kind, you allowed yourself to be seduced by our world. By the physical. How could I have ever believed that you could show me how to be something more?” He stood, and through the haze of pain, she could hear him roughly handling objects nearby, as if testing the knowledge contained within.
She began forcing herself to her feet, to stop him, but then she felt a lance of pain slice into her chest, and she fell to the ground. Even before she reached out to him, she could feel Luke’s light fading away. She cried out in agony, her eyes pressed shut, falling to the floor. Even now, if she had been able to act fully, she could catch him in between, help him, restore something of his fragile consciousness. But trapped as she was, all she could do is feel him slip into the abyss.
She lay there, sobbing, almost unable to comprehend what had happened. She wasn’t even aware of how long she had been there, when suddenly his eyes were looking into hers again, cold and unyielding. He waved a small piece of cloth in front of her face, inscribed with symbols like those carved into the wooden box he had been carrying.
“One way or another, you see?” He opened the box, placing the cloth over the ceremonial knife carefully before shutting it again. Then he turned back to her. “Consider this a lesson. The time has come for us to act as we were created to act. You exist to see to our needs now. Always remember that without us, the future is dead.”
Thomas McShane left her on the floor, stepping over her as he walked towards the door. “I’m sure you can find some way to salvage your plans for John Doggett. You can be sure that I will be watching him very carefully, just in case.” There was the soft click of the door being unlocked. “I’ll see myself out.”
And then there was only the silence.
****
Mo blinked away tears as she felt Angel pull her fingers away, the image of the wooden floor beneath her face fading quickly. She could feel the wet streaks down her cheeks, the traces of every other tears that she had shed. Simply thinking about it made her breath catch and the images return, the memories that she knew would haunt her forever. Just as they had haunted Angel.
“He was right,” Angel said softly, her voice full of regret. “Like so many of my kind, I had lost sight of my own purpose. I had embraced my role too completely. I had allowed human concerns to become my own, and in the end, I couldn’t even harness my own strength to defeat one of our own creations.”
She took a deep breath, forcing control. “I did what I could to salvage the situation, of course. When Luke’s body was found, I made sure that John saw the vision of Luke’s body turning to ash, just as Monica had seen. He was supposed to have taken a path like Fox Mulder’s, searching for his son through the years, opened to his own intuition and the truth. But he was wounded, gutted. He shut it out, all of it, even the vision. If there hadn’t been so many other forces converging...”
“He would never have been assigned to the X-Files,” Mo said finally, finding her voice. Through the remnants of her tears, she looked up at Angel. “He would never have saved my life.”
Angel nodded. “In the end, it became a difference in how he approached the work, little more. But he was still John Doggett. Whatever the conclusion, he follows the evidence until a solution is found.” She frowned slightly. “At least, most of the time.”
“Unless it forces him to accept the truth about himself,” Mo added. “Or to accept a world where those truths could possibly exist.” She sighed heavily. “My world.”
“He is at the crossroads, Morgan,” Angel said stridently. “Even after everything he’s seen, he resists. He unconsciously keeps that last bit of evidence and proof at arm’s length. So long as he has something he can use to steer his attention away from what happened to Luke, from his inability to prevent it, he’ll never reach his full potential.”
“Something,” Mo said, feeling a knot in her gut. “Or someone.”
“You’ve always known that he takes refuge in you,” Angel replied with a rueful nod. “You’ve accused him of it yourself. He comes to you, loses himself in you, when he wants to forget about his own life.” Angel laughed lightly. “Ironically, there’s never been a time when you’ve been together without something out of the ordinary happening, has there?”
Mo laughed as well, but the tight pull in her stomach remained. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because as I’ve told you, Morgan, the critical time is here,” Angel answered, her expression grave. “I know that Dana told you that everyone’s lives are in jeopardy. It will take every last bit of their strength and resolve to weather what is coming, to see and understand what it will be required for survival. Even so, I cannot say who will live or who will die. I only know that if John is unable to come to some sense of balance, there is no hope.”
“You’re telling me he’s going to die,” Mo said harshly, forcing herself not to tremble, losing to her own exhaustion. “If I stay with him, he’ll always be able to turn to me, escape with me. And so if I stay with him...oh, Goddess...”
“Then he will die.”
****
“What the hell do you want from me?”
Craig looked into John’s tortured eyes, and he knew he couldn’t do it. Not like this. No matter how obvious it was to him, even to everyone or anyone else, John had to come to that conclusion on his own. Instead, he had to find another way to defuse his anger and hopelessness.
“I want your approval,” Craig said, and to his own shock, there was more than a little sincerity in his words.
Caught off guard, John peered at him with a confused expression. “My approval?”
“Do you know, John, what it’s like to know that you have never been in control of your own life?” Craig replied, seizing on what he was feeling as it welled up within him. “I don’t mean in a religious sense. To be honest, I never had much patience for that. I get the sense that you haven’t, either.”
“Not a whole lot,” John admitted.
“When I was growing up, it was always about my sister, what she was doing, what she was going through. I didn’t even know the half of it, and when I did learn the truth, it was Thomas that provided it.” He held up his nearly empty bottle of Coors, staring at the slow movement of the liquid inside the glass. “All those years, and never once did I make my own decisions, not really. Not in the ways that matter. Not when it came to ending a man’s life.”
“Craig, I already told you, you’re not at fault,” John said before he could continue. “If that’s why you think you need my approval, to tell you that you’re innocent...”
“No,” Craig interrupted bluntly. “No, I’m not innocent. I’ve never had that luxury.” He saw John’s retort coming, and headed it off. “That’s not my point, and I’m not in the mood to argue over it. We both know that I had my doubts, even if I was never honest with myself about having them until it was too late. You showed me that I couldn’t trust Thomas to tell me everything, and that was enough for me.”
Craig sighed, placing his bottle onto the table with a loud clank. “I’m not a fool, John, I know that we never really live our own lives. But ever since I left Thomas and Kirsten and Rhia, all I’ve wanted to do is find a way to live the best life I can. At first, I thought it was about shutting it all down, denying what I had been taught to do.”
John frowned, glaring at Craig. “Look, if this is another attempt at a God damned lecture...”
“Will you just listen?” Craig snapped, cutting John off again. “You keep telling me all these reasons not to want Angel, to distrust her and suspect her motives. Do you know why I could never do that, John? Because after months of searching for something to believe in, for some reason to believe in myself...she showed me all of that.
“She took me in, showed me that all of those things that Thomas taught me to do weren’t tainted with the dark and manipulative motivations that he had placed around them. She showed me that those same abilities could be used to heal, to help, to save. That I could choose to serve a higher purpose, not because someone else demanded it of me, but because it was my choice.”
He could see that John understood, but then, of course he would understand. How long had he been wandering, straining to hear that one voice in the wilderness, the words that would wash his guilt and shame away? Years instead of months. And all that time had built wall after wall of resistance, something even love hadn’t yet broken through.
“She’s not what she seems, Craig,” John said finally. “If you don’t know what she wants, why she does what she does, how can you ever be sure that she’s not manipulating you just as much as Thomas did?”
Craig shrugged. “I don’t. We never really know, do we?”
“Maybe not,” John admitted. “But we learn to draw the line somewhere.”
“Then maybe we draw the line in different places,” Craig replied. He shrugged again. “I’ll never lead a normal life. If I can find someone to love in the same position, someone who understands this kind of life, is it so hard to simply trust my heart and try to find a little happiness?”
John looked like wanted to argue, but then he stopped, his expression softening. “No. No, I guess not. And maybe I understand how sometimes, you just have to trust in what you’re feeling, no matter what your head might be telling you.” He looked Craig in the eye. “So that’s what you’re after?”
Craig nodded. “I’m just asking you not to stand in the way. Whatever stands between you and Angel, let it go. At least, until you have a damned good reason not to.” He smiled.
“I don’t think you’d want someone to tell you not to care for someone, would you?”
****
“So that’s that, isn’t it?” Mo said finally, wiping at her eyes. “I guess I have no choice.”
“You have a choice,” Angel replied. “It’s simply not a very good one. Very few of them are in these times.” She regarded Mo with compassion, something that was very unwelcome at the moment. “If you leave him to face what’s coming on his own, then there is at least a good chance that he will survive it. And if he does, there is nothing to prevent you from returning.”
“And in the meantime?” Mo asked.
“I suspect that you will find yourself somewhat...distracted.” Angel sighed. “Your path crossed with John’s for a reason, Morgan. It wasn’t just a matter of helping him begin his journey towards peace. You have a part to play as well. Your survival is more likely, but not certain.”
“All I wanted was to be a part of his life,” Mo said softly. “I never asked for anything more.”
“Then this is your only chance to have it,” Angel replied, just as softly. “It’s all I can grant you. And even if everyone survives...I have to be honest. Should he find peace, then his reasons to hold back from the others will fall away. Fighting for survival, side by side...he might find what he has been seeking with you in another.”
Mo remembered what John had told her about Monica Reyes, and the feelings that she had all but admitted for him. And she recalled his feelings of guilt over wondering what he might have had with Monica, had things been different. Angel’s meaning was all too clear.
“You’re right,” she breathed. “It’s not a very good choice.”
Angel nodded. “But you will do what is necessary?”
“Yes,” Mo said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I will leave him.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Angel stood, turning in the same motion towards the space behind the counter. “If I’m not mistaken, Craig will have taken care of John, and-”
“No.”
Angel turned to face Mo, her expression confused but guarded. “I’m sorry?”
Mo stood, not quite believing that she was doing what she was doing. But just as she had accepted the price she would have to pay for John’s survival, she knew that she had to fulfill the promise she had made to herself. She had vowed to ease some small burden wearing John down, to do what she could to bring Craig and Angel together. She knew so much more now, more than she ever wanted to know, but she could see that she still needed to finish what she had started.
“You have asked something of me,” Mo said, as she walked towards the counter. “It’s only fair, I think, that you grant me something in return.”
“John’s life isn’t enough?” Angel countered, raising an eyebrow.
“You want that regardless,” Mo reminded her. “It’s not something you are granting me in return for this sacrifice.”
Angel considered Mo’s words, and then nodded. “You are right, of course. What are you suggesting?”
“Only balance,” Mo said, her confidence building. “You want me to step away, leave John alone. I understand your reasons, at least enough not to argue. But I think it only fair that you reconsider your decision about Craig.”
Angel’s expression hardened. “That is none of your concern.”
“Maybe not,” Mo acknowledged. “But I’m asking anyway.”
“You know what happened, what involving myself in human emotions cost me, what it cost John,” Angel replied angrily. “If there is one thing that our history has shown us, Morgan, it’s that nothing good can come out of embracing human existence. My elder brother wanted nothing more than to be human, to immerse himself in every emotion, and he was killed. Would you have me do the same? Risk my ability to help preserve lives, simply to make my own more satisfying?”
“You forget,” Mo said with a smile. “I still remember what I saw when we were joined last night, when I was struck with your impulses and desire. You want him. You want that connection, Angel. And you know it can happen, because not too long ago, your sister made the decision to become human.”
“To have a child,” Angel muttered, shaking her head. “Even knowing the possible future to come. Irresponsible.”
“No,” Mo countered, no longer caring if she was defying a power that she considered nearly divine. “She understood that there is more to what you embody than the simple task of restoring balance. You stand for life itself. What better way to honor and revere life, than to create it?” She felt the hard knot in her gut returning, but she pressed forward. “You were the one who made it possible for Dana Scully to experience that joy. Can you honestly say that you don’t understand the power and strength within the love that leads to such a desire?”
“Thomas McShane prevented me from saving Luke Doggett because I gave in to those impulses,” Angel reminded her, her eyes blazing. “You don’t know how easy it is to give in to it, Morgan. The lure of the flesh. My people have always known that the only way to stave off that seduction is to remain apart from the rest of the world. Deny ourselves.”
“John told me about one of the others like you,” Mo said with a sigh.
“Then you must see why I cannot allow myself to love Craig, no matter what,” Angel insisted.
“No, I don’t see that,” Mo persisted. “Thomas McShane didn’t succeed because of your weakness. At least, not your weakness on that day. He held the upper hand because he had made the decision, long ago, to give up his humanity. He had lost all of the things that make us human, that give us the strength to carry on.”
“I should have been able to save Luke,” Angel replied with a sigh.
Mo let out a mournful chuckle. “Isn’t that the kind of thinking that we keep trying to draw John away from? He denies himself what he needs to heal, and to give him the chance to find it, I’m willing to let him go. If you ask me to do this, then I ask you to do the same for yourself. End your own suffering, Angel.”
“Suffering,” Angel muttered.
Mo nodded. “This intense physical desire...it’s not the first time you’ve felt it. In fact, you’ve felt it every year, at this time. Haven’t you?”
Angel glared at Mo, but eventually she nodded. “Yes. Every year.”
“When you chose to become a part of this world, you remained connected to the entirety of nature,” Mo reasoned. “And part of the cycle of life on this world brings the desire to propagate. My ancestors, all of our ancestors, knew that it was this time.” She laughed to herself. “I should have realized. These are the first days of spring. Now would be the time for the rites of fertility. Beltaine.”
Angel smiled tightly. “Usually I would find someone that wouldn’t be missed, a vagrant, someone already half mad. When we feel desire, we become the desire, fully and completely. It’s more than any human is meant to bear.” She glanced at Mo with sympathy. “You know as much, I should think.”
“Only this year, it’s different,” Mo replied. “This year, you find yourself drawn to Craig. You can’t bear to give in to the desire to become more human, but at the same time, you suffer without the release you need. In more ways than one.”
“It could kill him,” Angel said plainly.
“Well, we’re already dealing in matters of life and death,” Mo reminded her, a slight edge to her voice. “Why should this decision be any different.” She leaned against the counter, looking Angel directly in the eyes. “I’ll let John go, to save his life. I demand equal risk on your part. Accept what Craig offers.”
When Angel didn’t answer, Mo simply sighed and turned towards the door. If Angel was unwilling to place herself in equal risk, that was not something she could enforce. It wouldn’t be the first time that something more than human had imposed its will on those less powerful. After all, there were countless tales of gods and monsters acting with equal caprice.
“Morgan.”
Mo turned, and for just a moment, she wondered if she had gone too far. She felt that familiar feeling in her gut again, and she grabbed at the frame of the front door to keep her balance. She was far too weary to take much more of this. But then she saw the look of acceptance in Angel’s eyes.
“Thank you. I think I already knew what I have to do.” Angel shrugged with a slight grin. “Maybe I just needed to hear someone else tell me that it was the right decision.”
She was a little surprised at how easily Angel had been convinced, but she had seen more than a few swift transformations in her time as an intuitive healer. “How long do I have?”
“You should leave in the morning,” Angel said with a sigh.
Mo nodded, happy to have even that much time. It would give her some time to rest, and then the chance to spend the night with him. Already, she knew how it would have to be done. “Then I wish you and Craig the best.”
“Morgan,” Angel called out, before Mo could reach for the front door. “I want you to know. If John survives, and he chooses to come back to you...there are larger issues of balance that would also need to be amended. Remember that.”
Mo didn’t know what Angel could mean by that, but she nodded anyway, eager to be done with it. She had done what she had set out to do. Now there was only the price to be paid.
****
GEORGETOWN, DC
3:55 PM
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light of the mid-afternoon sun. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes, and then cast a glance up and down the road. She had managed to hail a cab to get this far, but at the moment there didn’t seem to be anything available. She let out a hard sigh, suddenly very aware of the exhaustion that was weighing down on her shoulders.
She heard the truck pull up to the curb before she saw it. Even before John jumped out, she knew it was him. She saw the fearful and desperate look in his eyes as he rounded the front of the truck, piercing her with his gaze as if trying to pry out whatever she had learned. She wanted to tell him everything, but something told her that it wasn’t her place.
“Mo,” John said, taking her gently by the shoulders. He must have noticed the look of weariness and sadness in her eyes, because his eyes flickered towards the front door of the shop. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
“It’s fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “I’m just tired.” She reached up, brushing her fingers through the hair over his left ear. “I just want to get a little rest.”
“You’re sure?” Now he looked towards the store more pointedly. “If there’s anything that you still need...”
She shook her head, stepping into his embrace. “Just take me home,” she whispered, nuzzling against his chest with a sigh.
“Take me home...”
****
ALEXANDRIA, VA
4:29 PM
Angel wiped the back of her hand over her slickened forehead as she stepped into the air-conditioned corridor just inside the front door of the apartment building. Usually she wouldn’t need such a convenience for herself, but with most of her self-control dedicated to simply functioning, she couldn’t very well cool herself down on her own.
She hesitated by the door, taking a deep breath, her eyes closed. A noise by the stairs caught her unaware, and her eyes flashed open. Craig was standing there, watching her, his expression completely unreadable.
“I was waiting for you,” he explained, when it was clear that she wasn’t going to be the first to speak. “I assume you spoke with Morgan Dannah, settled your business with her?”
Angel caught the slight edge in his voice, and simply nodded. It would be best not to engage him in this moment, when her reactions to him were less than certain.
Craig smiled. “Yes, well, I spoke with John. He’ll let well enough alone, I think.”
Angel let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, and nodded her thanks. She decided that it would be best to let him work out his worries on his own, and started towards the stairs. He stepped aside to let her reach the stairs unimpeded, and she forced herself not to look at him, to peer into those brown eyes flecked with green.
“Angel,” he said softly, just as she was passing him. She paused, but she still couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“I told John that it didn’t matter,” Craig continued, staring down at the floor, as if understanding her wishes. “Whatever he had to say, I told him that I didn’t want to know. That no matter what you might have done, who you might really be...that it doesn’t change how I feel.” He paused, but she knew he wasn’t finished.
“But I do want to know, Angel,” he said finally. “One of these days, I want to know it all. No matter what it might be. I think you’ll find that there’s quite a bit I’m willing to forgive.”
He walked away from the stairs to his apartment door, stepping inside without looking back. She watched the door close, and then with a shuddering sigh, continued on her way to her home.
****
FALLS CHURCH, VA
8:17 PM
“You’re sure you’re up for this?”
Mo nodded, reaching up to adjust the collar of his light blue button-down shirt. “Yes, John, I’m sure. As much as I’d love to stay in for the night, I think that we owe it to ourselves to spend a little time out.” She ran her hands absently over her blouse, as if willing any wrinkles to disappear. “Besides, I hardly remember anything from last night, and I want to give Billies a fair chance.”
“I know,” John said, bending down to give her a quick kiss before stepping into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror. “It’s just that you slept like a log for three hours, and you look like you could have kept sleeping straight until morning. I don’t want to wear you out.”
“I just needed a little catnap,” she said with a sigh, forcing herself not to respond to the sudden urge to yawn.
“Well, at least you managed to sleep,” he replied, glancing at her in the mirror as he combed back his hair. “I look like something I would usually be investigating.”
Mo stepped behind him, taking him by the shoulders, resting her chin on one of them as he smiled back at her. “You look as handsome as ever.”
“Oh, of course I do,” he replied with a grin. “But I’m just as glad to know we’re going someplace with low lighting.” He sighed, giving her a frank smirk in the reflection. “You’re sure?”
“Sure,” she muttered, and then she grabbed his ears and pulled playfully. He winced, shrugging her off his shoulders as she laughed. She let go, walking out of the bathroom. “And if you don’t stop asking, you can stay home.”
He stepped out of the bathroom, watching the sway of her hips as she glanced over her shoulder at him. He smiled knowingly.
“Like hell...”
****
TRIPPING BILLIES
9:33 PM
John pushed the plate towards the center of the table, nodding towards the bar in thanks. Normally there wasn’t much in the way of food in the club, but apparently Craig had anticipated their arrival and had something special prepared for them. Mo had been even more pleased by the gesture, if he read her expression at all well. She hadn’t really eaten since the night before, and with the lack of sleep and lingering effects of dehydration, she was likely famished.
He reached for his bottle of beer, watching her pick at the remains of her chicken salad as she watched Angel’s Flock round out their early set. Most of the songs had been slow and soft, echoing the music from the night before. The theme seemed to be songs for the lovelorn, with Alyssa letting her voice linger over the words like Craig’s gaze towards Angel.
He found himself staring at Mo as he listened to the song, wondering how he could have managed to gain the love of a woman like her. For all that they had circled each other over the past year and more, he had been the one requiring patience and understanding. Even after what had happened last fall, she had been willing to help him, to listen to his fears, to come all this way to help him through the pain.
It’s funny how
Even now
You still support me after all of the things that I’ve done
You’re so good to me
Waiting patiently
And isn’t it sad that you still have to ask if I care?
That was the one thing he hadn’t told her, wasn’t it? Something he couldn’t even admit to himself most of the time. Not whether or not he cared, but that massive and crushing question of love. He knew how he felt about her, what he felt, but it was so difficult to simply say it. Because there was no going back, and it had been so long since he had been able to admit that he cared that much about someone without the fear of losing that again.
I never said I was perfect
But I can take you away...
****
Mo wiped at her lips, sighing contentedly at the full feeling in her belly, a wonderful sensation after the past day of almost nothing to eat. She knew that John was staring at her, but she didn’t want to look back just yet. She was still tired, still pushing herself to stay awake and energetic, but she also knew that she would soon have more than enough time to rest alone. She wanted to spend these final moments with him in pleasant happiness.
Walk on shells tonight
Can’t do wrong tonight
And you can’t say a word
‘Cause I’ll leap down your throat
So uptight am I
The way he was looking at her, she could see the tension still burning under his skin. After everything she had heard over the past two days, after everything she had seen, she could feel that tension as well. It hung in the air between them, stretching to envelope all of them, the knowledge that sooner or later everything would come crashing down.
I never said I was perfect
But I can drive you home...
****
Angel caught the look that John was casting at Morgan, the purity of the love that he felt for her, wrapped in the fear of losing something so precious. She had already been so responsible for so much of the loss in his life, even if her hands had not delivered the killing blow. Now, to have to take this away from him as well, it was almost too much to bear.
And then there was Morgan’s demand that she act against all of the instincts of her people, embrace the humanity that left them so unguarded and exposed. She knew it wouldn’t have to be to the extent that her siblings had taken that desire. She wouldn’t have to die a human being like her elder brother. She wouldn’t have to take her current actions one step further like her younger brother and play with humans like they were puppets. And she certainly wouldn’t go as far as her sister had, to become so fully human that she could bear human children.
No, she couldn’t go that far, not with so much responsibility still resting on her shoulders. But if Morgan had understood one thing, it was that she couldn’t simply choose to sate her hungers with a stranger anymore. She had come too far for that, given too much of herself to the lives of those needed for the future. Maybe now was the time to let someone share the burden. If only she could be sure that he would understand, once he learned the truth. Once he knew about the choices she had been forced to make.
I got down on myself
Working too hard
Driving myself to death trying to beat out the faults in my head
What a mess I’ve made
Sure we all make mistakes
But they see me so large that they think I’m immune to the pain
Looking away from John, she found herself staring into Craig’s eyes, feeling the full weight of his silent pleading.
****
Craig stared out into the audience as he strummed out the mournful chords, Alyssa’s resounding and soulful voice echoing around him. This is how he needed it to be, when he was there on the stage, tapping into the experience of others through the bond they shared in the music. What Angel had taught him over the past year allowed him to feel the reactions of the crowd to every note, every word. And Angel was a part of that crowd. She always had been.
He had felt her resistance to his advances, even though she had tried to hide it so well. Every so often, he had felt something more, the slightest hint of appreciation or desire, and it had fanned the flames of his own determination. That had grown into something else lately, wildly deviating between outright lust and the rejection of any emotions for him at all. He didn’t understand, and after everything that had happened with Mo and John over the past couple days, his patience was wearing thin.
Walk on shells tonight
Can’t do wrong tonight
And you can’t say a word
‘Cause I’ll leap down your throat
So uptight am I
Tonight, he knew, he would have to make one final attempt, try to reach out to the part of her that wanted to drop the façade and come to him bare. He would do it the only way he knew how, and maybe at the same time, he could ease some of the worry and tension between John and Mo. He had already sensed the painful decision that Mo had made, and if there was something he could do for them, to make this night magical, then he would do it.
But in the end, it wasn’t about John and Mo, not really. It was about Angel. And that was the soul he was trying to reach, as he drove the song towards its nearly silent ending.
I’m praying for a miracle
But I won’t hold my breath
I never said I was perfect
But can you take me home...
****
The set ended, leaving the room mostly silent for a brief intermission. With the lights brightening ever so slightly, John could see the sadness in Mo’s eyes. She covered it with a smile, but he had seen it all the same. He wondered what it was that had brought that sadness to her, what she could possibly be keeping to herself, but he knew better than to ask. Her attempts to mask the despair told him that she didn’t want it to affect their evening.
“Hey, you two,” he heard over his shoulder, and he looked up at Craig with a grin. Craig looked like he had something he was concealing as well, but he was doing a much less convincing job of hiding the excitement and fear behind his eyes.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m glad you could make it,” Craig continued, after a glance in Angel’s direction. He nodded towards the empty plates. “Everything was good?”
“Perfect,” Mo breathed, flashing John a smile as she gestured towards the remains of her chicken salad. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t mention it,” Craig said, waving it off. “The least I could do.” He turned back to John. “Listen, I just wanted to tell you that we’re hoping to wrap it up early tonight. One more song, but I wanted to save it for the end so you two could get the chance to enjoy it.”
John frowned, seeing the mischievous look on Craig’s face. “Are we going to regret this?”
“I hope not,” Craig replied, glancing once again in Angel’s direction. For her part, the young Filipino wasn’t responding to Craig’s attempts at gaining her attention. Craig seemed to be hurt by that, but he also seemed resolute to not let it bother him.
“Just take it as it comes,” Craig added as he started walking towards the stage.
“All we can do,” John muttered. He looked over at Mo. “You know what he’s talking about?”
Mo shook her head. “Darlin’, I haven’t a clue.” Then she smiled wickedly. “But I bet it’ll be an interesting show.”
****
10:27 PM
Craig stepped out onto the stage, slipping the strap of his guitar over his shoulder as he looked in Angel’s direction. From what he could tell, she was even more reserved than ever tonight, hardly even speaking to John or Mo the entire time they had been sitting at the table. For just a moment, he wasn’t sure that this was the right night. Once he made this final gesture, he knew he wouldn’t be able to put himself out on a limb so far again.
Alyssa must have seen the conflict brewing behind his eyes, because as she finished tuning her fiddle, she stepped close and regarded him with a smirk. “Having second thoughts?”
“Oh, yes,” he breathed, looking down at her with a nervous grin. “And third, and fourth...”
“Well, it’s not too late to change your mind,” she replied, sliding the fiddle under her chin. “We could always switch to ‘Billies’ or something else they could dance to.” She nodded towards John and Mo.
Craig looked towards his friend and the woman who loved him, and the shortness of their time together. Even if his own fortunes were destined to crash and burn, at least he could make certain that someone found happiness tonight.
“No,” he said, grabbing one last sip of cool water from the bottle he had stashed behind the bass drum. With a sigh, he nodded towards the rest of the Flock, and then turned towards Alyssa as the others began the song, working with a light beat through an improvisation. “Tonight’s the night.”
With a deep breath, he started working himself into the mix, giving himself over to the music. One way or another, there was no going back now.
****
The music was easy and carefree, with syncopation to the rhythm that practically screamed for dancing, and Mo felt the seductive power of it as soon as the song began in full. Craig stood before the microphone, gently strumming at the guitar, gracing the audience with a knowing smile as he began singing. The words seemed almost as aimless as the music itself, driving forward without the obvious need to come to some kind of conclusion or adopt a structure. But having a sense of what Craig was driving for, she could feel the purpose within the music, the natural pace of it.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing John’s hand as she stood.
“What?” he replied, as if stirred out of some restless reverie. He saw what she had on her mind, and sighed. “Now, hold on...”
“I intend to,” she breathed, pulling him to his feet with her insistence.
John relented, recognizing a lost battle when he saw one. He followed Mo out to the open space of the dance floor, and taking her in his arms, he let the music and the rhythm lead the way.
So here we are tonight
You and me together
The storm outside
The fire’s bright
And in your eyes
I see what’s on my mind
You’ve got me wild
Turned around inside
And then desire, see,
Is creeping up heavy
Inside here
And I know you feel
The same way as I do now
Let’s make this an evening
Lovers for a night
Lovers for tonight
From the corner of his eye, John noticed that Angel was standing by their table now, staring up at Craig with a look of curiosity and even a little wonder. She was moving ever so slightly to the music, and he forced himself to look away, not wanting to find anything of interest in someone other than the woman in his arms.
Stay here with me, love, tonight
Just for an evening
When we make our passion pictures
You and me twist up secret creatures
And we’ll stay here
Tomorrow, go back to being friends...
****
Craig watched as John and Mo settled into an unlikely circling, and he smiled at the thought of John Doggett getting on a groove. But then he saw Angel walking out onto the dance floor, her eyes just short of being closed, swaying and twirling and responding to the music like he had never seen before. It lent him strength and passion to his purpose, and he launched into the next verse with joy.
****
Go back to being friends
But tonight let’s be lovers
We kiss and sweat
We’ll turn this better thing to the best
Of all we can offer
Just a rogue kiss
Tangled tongues and lips
See me this way
I’m turning and turning for you
Girl, just tonight
Float away here with me
An evening
Just wait and see
But tomorrow go back to your man
I’m back to my world
And we’re back to being friends
Angel felt the raw fire of Craig’s emotion cascading through his words, and she let it fill her with its purity. She closed her eyes and felt her way through every step, every placement of her feet, tracing out unconsciously the sacred shapes that spoke of her own desires, weaving her own spell in response.
Wait and see me
Tonight let’s do this thing
All we are is wasting hours
Until the sun comes
It’s all ours
On our way here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
****
Mo felt John pull her close, and that same thrill that she always felt when she was in his arms rushed through her as he spun her ‘round, his eyes filled with a happiness and freedom that she couldn’t ever remember seeing before. Maybe he could feel it, maybe he understood, that this would be their last dance, one final night to give themselves completely. Or maybe he needed to forget everything else and pretend, just for one night, that there was nothing but the two of them in all the world.
Go back to being friends
But tonight let’s be lovers
Say you will
And hear me call
Soft-spoken, whispering love
A thing or two I have to say
Here tonight let’s go all the way then
Love, I’ll see you
Just for this evening
Let’s strip down
Trip out at this
One evening
Starts with a kiss
Run away...
****
Craig was no longer trying to control the course of the song, simply letting it move him as much as it was moving the others, letting his own intentions carry him down the same rushing torrent. And he launched into the finish, he watched as Angel cast her gaze towards him as she twirled in her secret ways, catching him fast in that moment.
And tomorrow back to being friends
But now, lovers...love you...
Just for tonight
One night
Love you...
The music that had been swirling through its joyful crescendo faded abruptly, returning to the easiness of the song’s beginning, leaving Craig to bring it home.
And tomorrow
Say goodbye
****
Mo looked up into John’s eyes, not wanting to believe that the dance was over so soon. But even as he drew her into a deep kiss, his lips pressing hard and passionately on her own, she couldn’t help but hear Craig’s soft but honest voice around them, as the song ended.
And tomorrow
Say goodbye...
****
Craig let the guitar slip from his shoulder as the audience broke into applause. To one side, John and Mo were still locked in an embrace and a deep kiss, but Craig was only concerned for the woman revealed before him. Whatever she had been holding back, now it was clearly revealed. Angel seemed more full of life than she had ever been before, like some quickening loosed in her veins, and he could feel the racing of his heart as he responded to her calling.
“Angel,” he murmured, as she stepped towards him, her eyes aglow. “I mean it. Even if it’s just this one night, I want to show you how I feel, what you mean to me...”
“And tomorrow?” she asked, flashing him a wicked smile as she raised an eyebrow.
“Well, as the song goes,” he replied, running his fingers through her flame-kissed hair, “tomorrow, if you want, we go back to being friends.”
“I see,” Angel said, her tone slightly serious. Then she smiled warmly. “But I remember another song you like to sing. How does it go again? ‘Now the days are turning to years, and still no tomorrow appears’?”
Craig felt a rush run through him. “So you were paying attention.”
“Always,” she whispered, as she let him pull her into an embrace. She felt warm to the touch, and his senses reeled as she moved against him.
“Always.”
****
John looked down into Mo’s eyes, surprised to find that something of that earlier sadness had returned. It put him off a bit, but then she looked away, nodding towards Craig and Angel. He looked over in their direction, smiling despite himself at the sight of the two of them locked in an embrace.
“Well, it looks as though things worked out, after all,” he grumbled, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “I hope he knows what he’s getting into.”
“Oh, I doubt it,” Mo replied with a husky chuckle, turning back in his direction. “But I’m sure he’ll let you know, if he makes it through the morning.” He wondered what that was supposed to mean, and Mo must have seen that in his expression. “Enough about them, darlin’. I think it’s time you took me home.”
“An offer I can’t refuse,” John replied, his voice deep with desire. “And tomorrow?”
Mo’s good cheer seemed to falter slightly, but then she recovered with a playful shake of her head. “Oh, no. No thoughts to tomorrow. ‘Until the sun comes, it’s all ours’...”
John chuckled, letting out a deep groan from his throat as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “You are going to be the death of me, you know that?”
Mo’s smile remained, but she said nothing as she let him lead her towards the door and into the night.
****
FALLS CHURCH, VA
MARCH 24, 2002
12:06 AM
Mo let him lead her into the house. His eyes never left her face as he slowly pushed the heavy front door closed. She felt a shiver as a snapshot of memory from the night before ran through her mind, how she had pressed him hard against the door, her pulse racing. For just a moment, she considered doing it again, to shock him with that kind of fire without the driving heat, but she pushed it away. That’s not how she wanted to fall tonight.
John was leaning against the wall by the door, staring at her still, and she wondered what had to be running through his mind. He suspected something. He had to have seen the shadows behind her eyes, the creeping despair that she had forced herself to ignore. But as well as he could read her, she knew he wouldn’t know what was wrong. And so she did her best to make it seem as though it was simple worry over the night before, mixed and melded with the desire to be with him, body and soul.
As he walked by her, he glanced at the stairs, a knowing smile on his lips. She shook her head, letting him know that she wasn’t in the mood to wait that long. They could end up in his bed, of course, but she had already made it clear that she wanted this to last well into the morning, so they could sleep under the dawning sun in each other’s sated arms. That much he seemed to understand, and he slid onto his armchair, beckoning her with his eyes. Her memory flashed to a night so many moons ago.
Whatever else remained hidden, that much he had seen. Not wanting to let the silent moment linger, he reached out and took her by the wrist, his eyes still locked on her gaze. His touch was gentle but insistent, pulling her close to him, and his thumb rubbed against the soft, smooth skin of her forearm, almost absently.
“Come here,” he murmured. She looked down at him for a moment, etching every last inch of him into her memory, and then she sat down of the arm of the chair, facing him. Still holding her arm, he reached around her neck with his other hand, caressing and teasing just below her hairline. He guided her over onto his lap as his hand pulled her lips to his, kissing her gently and slowly, as if he were savoring the taste of her. From there, he began tracing his lips over her cheek, then just under her ear, until he was kissing her passionately at the nape of her neck.
She sighed heavily, leaning into his movements until he pulled away from her neck and kissed her more insistently on the mouth hungrily. She opened her mouth to him, her hands finding each side of his face, then taking hold of his hair as their tongues touched, making her laugh and groan happily. His hands slid away from her arm and neck, caressing the small of her back and then pulling slowly but surely at her blouse.
It lifted away from her hips from under her skirt, and as she leaned back for him, he brought his hands forward to unbutton the blouse. His hands resting on the top button, he pulled her back towards his mouth, resuming his trail of kisses where he had left off at the nape of her neck. As he undid the first button, his lips replaced the fabric at her shoulder. The next button relented under his touch, and his lips slid further down. A few buttons later, and the blouse was on the floor, and his lips were tracing the swell of her breasts.
She moaned, feeling his smile against her flesh in response. His hands wrapped around her, deftly unhooking her bra, and then he traced his fingers along the straps, setting her to shivering as he pulled them from her shoulders. His lips left her just long enough to toss the unnecessary item onto the floor next to the blouse, and then he was kissing her on the right breast, licking at the tiny moon there before taking her nipple into his mouth.
She arched her back, pressing her eyes closed as he lingered there, nipping and suckling as her fingers gripped tightly in his hair. His hands found the small of her back again, supporting the soft curve of her spine. When she straightened again, pressing his face against her breast, his hands continued down until they were sliding under the fabric of her skirt, taking hold of her hips.
She straddled him then, pulling his head back so she could kiss his eyebrows, down over his cheeks to his mouth, her tongue lingering there as his hands found her breasts. She began unbuttoning his shirt, and just as he had removed her blouse, she began tracing her tongue down his neck, over his shoulder, onto his chest. Absently pulling the shirt completely away as she slid from his lap, she shifted her attention to his belt as her lips found his belly. Then, one hand sliding into her hair as the his other pulled his pants out of the way, she took him into her mouth.
She knew she couldn’t remain there long. His excitement had already grown to the point that he was responding to the velvet touch of her tongue and lips, sliding ever closer to the edge. Not willing to bring things to a conclusion so quickly, she let him pull her mouth up to his, and they kissed hungrily. He used his feet to toss off the rest of his pants, leaving him in nothing more than his socks. The thought brought a smile to her face.
Pulling her with him, John rose from the chair, his hands sliding under her hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she crossed her legs behind his back, letting him carry her towards the stairs. Her mouth found his neck, and she nibbled there as he pushed past his exhaustion towards the bedroom. He took a moment to recover from the exertion at the top of the stairs, pressing her against the wall, grinding his hips against her. Then he was easing her onto her back on the softness of his bed, stepping back so he could look at her as he removed the last of his clothing.
As he watched, she slid her thumbs under the hem of her skirt, pushing it down as far as she could. He removed it the rest of the way, and slowly and methodically rolled her stockings down from her hips. In another short moment she was exposed fully to him. He climbed onto the bed, and she opened herself to him, reaching out for the tight bundle of his shoulders to drive him down.
Just as his face was above her own, his gaze locked with hers, she hesitated. She had a sudden rush of uneasiness, as though there was something that she was forgetting, something vital. It nudged at the edge of her conscious mind, reflected somehow in his eyes as well, but she couldn’t bring it into the fullness of light. Not wanting to break the spell of the evening, and already seeing the seeds of doubt in his eyes, she pulled John’s lips to hers.
In one fluid motion, he was within her, and she let out a shuddering breath at the wonderful fullness of the feeling. Her arms wrapped about his shoulders tightly as they slipped into a passionate but measured rhythm. It wasn’t long before John’s thrusts became more insistent, and she remembered how close he had been earlier. His vigor was leaving her breathless, and she pressed a palm against his headboard, gaining some slight leverage for her hips as she drove them up to meet his.
Several moments later, she felt the delicious heat coursing inside her, as his quivering muscles tightened under her touch. She didn’t stop her own movements until his own trusting slowed to a relative stop, knowing that it would be that much better for him. She knew she was more conscious than usual of his pleasure, but she wanted this to be as perfect as it could be, within her power to make it so.
So she let him lay over her, holding her tightly against his sweat-laden flesh, until she could feel the stirrings of his interest returning. She had been tracing her fingertips lightly over his back, reveling in every little involuntary twitch, but as he began running his hand down towards her breast again, she rubbed his skin more intently. Before he could consider resuming where he had left off, she pushed him away slightly, and then pushed him until he relented and rolled onto his back.
Straddling him, sliding her slick opening over his length with that familiar rhythm, she graced him with a wicked smile. His own grin matched hers, and once again, she felt a pang of remorse and loss. All too soon, the night would end, and they would never know this easy and gentle healing again. The time that remained seemed all too fleeting.
But there were still some small hours left to them, and as she reached under her hips to slide him slowly inside of her, she resolved to savor every last second.
****
FALLS CHURCH, VA
MARCH 24, 2002
9:31 AM
John stirred as he became aware of the light shining through the window, and he rubbed his eyes as he did his best to adjust. Failing in that, he sighed heavily, reaching out for Mo, hoping to bury his face against her flesh. When his hand fell through empty air, resting on the plush pillow where her head should have been, he forced his eyes fully open despite the annoyance. Confirming that she wasn’t next to him in bed, he sighed again and glanced towards the bedroom door.
“Mo?” He pushed himself to a seated position, rubbing his face again. “Hey, sweetheart? Mo?” Something didn’t feel right, and he glanced around the room, trying to clear his mind from its desire to return to blessed unconsciousness. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, until he focused on the space over his dresser.
His eyes snapped fully open, and his senses went into overdrive. Her clothes were gone. Everything that he had placed there, two days earlier, was gone. Another quick glance towards the floor by the dresser confirmed that her bag was gone as well, along with whatever clothing he had removed from her the night before. A sudden fear clutched at his heart, and he pounded from the bed, not caring that he was completely exposed.
He made a quick check in the bathroom, and then ran into the rest of the loft, down the stairs. It took only a moment to realize that she wasn’t in the kitchen or the dining room, and the rest of her clothes had been recovered from the living room floor. Even her coat was missing from the front closet.
“Mo?” He ran towards the back door, hoping against hope that she would somehow be there. “Mo!” The only response was silence. He returned to the living room, scanning its contents for something out of the ordinary, something that would explain Mo’s absence. It didn’t take him long to find the short note sitting scrolled up on the coffee table.
He grabbed it quickly, scanning its contents with a rapidly drying throat. His expression fallen, he read it a second time, this time more carefully, to be sure that he wasn’t reading it incorrectly. But there was no mistake. She had made her intentions entirely plain.
The note still clenched in his hand, he ran for the door, grabbing the knob for the front door and turning it before realizing that he wasn’t ready to go chasing after her. Everything in his soul screamed for him to waste no time, but he knew that there was only one place she could be now. And with the current delays at Dulles, he would be able to take the time to get properly dressed before trying to find her.
Because one way or another, he couldn’t accept this. Not after everything they had been through. Not after the night they had spent, the love they had expressed time and again. He knew that she loved him, and she had to know that he loved her. For her to break it off, just like that, with no warning? No. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t something that she would have done, not on her own.
Running up the stairs, he was still whispering as much to himself, as if doing everything possible to will it to be true.
****
DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
10:20 AM
Mo glanced up at the clock on the wall, willing her nerves to calm, so she could stop her legs from being so restless. It had taken every ounce of her willpower to pull herself out of that bed, to pack her things and leave without a word. It went against everything that she would have wanted, had she had the choice. If nothing else were true, John Doggett deserved better.
But she had also realized, when faced with the decision, that she couldn’t leave him with any sense of hope for a future together. And if she had been forced to tell him that she was leaving, to try to put the reasons into words that he could understand and accept, she knew she would have failed. John would still believe that she was out there, waiting for him to call or visit and make things right. And under that kind of pressure, she wouldn’t be able to resist her own desires.
No, she knew that it had to be this way. She had to make this as hard for him as she could, no matter the pain in her own heart. If John were going to find his peace, it would be through the gauntlet of his own pain and anguish. Without an easy outlet, he would be forced into the crucible, changed within its heart, made whole again. And her leaving, she knew, had to be a part of that.
So she had left him lying there, seemingly peaceful in his sleep, more calm than he had been since she had arrived. That in and of itself was proof enough of her influence. She had wanted nothing more than to step to the side of the bed, to kiss his cheek, his lips, that one final time. But even that, she had to deny herself. She had left the room, her gaze lingering on his face until it was completely out of sight.
Her note had been brief. She had told him so many times that he had used her as a shelter too often, until she had no choice but to come to him and force her way into his life. And now that she had seen his life, she couldn’t bear to be a part of it. There was enough truth within the words to make it sound convincing. He would still question it, but with nothing else to reveal her thoughts and feelings, he would eventually come to accept it. If not accept it, then he would at least honor her apparent wishes to not try to contact her.
Even now, it was all she could do to keep from breaking into sobs. All her life, she had been drawn to the balance, to the guiding hand of the Goddess. Everything that Angel had said to her, she had felt through her intuition, or it had been revealed to others in the same fashion. Maintaining that balance, retaining that focus, had caused her pain more than once in her life, even forcing her to choose between life and death for another. But at the moment, she couldn’t remember a time when the personal price had been so high.
She was still willing herself to calm down, to avoid another mess of tears, when she heard someone take the seat across from her own. Not wanting to invite questions that she wasn’t ready to answer, she forced control and opened her eyes. She was shocked at who was waiting for her there.
“Dana?”
Scully smiled briefly, obviously ill at ease. She glanced down at Mo’s bag, and then forced another smile when she looked up at Mo again. “I wasn’t sure that I would find you here. I thought Angel had finally been wrong about something.” She glanced to either side. “Where’s John?”
“He’s not here,” Mo said evenly, trying to remove as much emotion from the words as possible.
Still, her meaning seemed clear. “You mean...he doesn’t know?” Scully’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “My God...did Angel know this would happen?”
Mo knew that if she confirmed it, John would find out sooner or later. And it was critical that John gain some kind of trust in Angel, if he was to find release from the burdens of his past. None of that would happen if her departure stood between them.
“No,” she said finally, shaking her head. “I mean, I was always going to leave today, so if she told you I would be here, that’s probably why.” She noticed something in Scully’s expression, and then it dawned on her. “You weren’t looking for me on your own, were you?”
Scully shook her head. “No. Angel called me a couple of hours ago. She asked me to meet you here. I still don’t understand why.” She regarded Mo with naked suspicion. “Do you have any ideas?”
Mo shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t know what we might need to talk about.” She saw the question in Scully’s eyes. “I don’t feel like talking about...this. Why I’m leaving. It’s personal.”
Scully nodded. “All right. I can respect that.”
They sat in silence for a moment, unsure of where they could go from there. Finally, Mo broke the subtle tension between them. “Dana...you’ve known Angel for a while now. What do you think about her?”
Scully’s eyes widened slightly, as if she were surprised by the question. “What do I think of Angel?” She sighed, a long and weary sound. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, to be honest. I’m not sure I’ve come up with any kind of answer.”
“Do you believe in the things she claims about herself?” Mo asked, not sure how much Scully had been told, but betting that it had been enough.
“I’ve seen and experienced enough to believe in it, yes,” Scully replied. She stared down at the floor, her expression unreadable. “I’ve lived the memories in many of the items in her store. I’ve seen the results of her work with John and Monica. I trust and believe in her enough that I would have given William to her care. So, yes, I believe.”
Mo nodded slightly to herself. It was undeveloped, but Scully had an intuition all her own. And that had led Scully to the same conclusions. “So do I. And it makes me worry about John.” She smiled at Scully. “About all of you, actually.”
“Maybe that’s why she wanted me to come here,” Scully observed. “Because I think we’ve heard some of the same things. And I believe that in the end, it’s going to be all right. We’ll get through it, somehow. I have to believe that.”
“Yes,” Mo said, smiling at the irony. “Yes, I believe the same thing.”
Scully continued as if Mo hadn’t spoken. “I guess it’s about faith. Faith that even if things are bad now, and it looks like there’s no way out of the darkness, there’s always hope that we’ll find a way. I’m not sure I fully understood that, until I chose this life. To commit myself to Mulder and his cause.” She chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe William is my reward for having faith, a miracle for believing, letting go of who I was and letting time and fate take its course.”
Mo smiled. “That’s a wonderful thought, Dana. That your sacrifice would be balanced with the ability to conceive a child out of the love you accepted.”
“I’m not always convinced that it’s so simple as that,” Scully replied. “But sometimes it’s the only way I can accept who I’ve become.” There was an announcement, and suddenly Mo realized that it was time to begin boarding her plane. “I guess that’s you. Anyway, Angel wanted me to pass something on to you, if I managed to catch up with you. She said, ‘Remember the larger balance. Restoration will be matched in kind.’ Hopefully, that means something to you.”
Mo nodded. “I guess it’s to remind me that there’s always a chance that I’ll be able to come back to him.” She sighed, taking one last look around the terminal. She had been hoping against all reason that John would arrive in time to stop her, regardless of the consequences. But if Angel had seen to it that Dana was here to pass on that final reminder, then she ought to have known that John was also being delayed.
Scully saw the sadness in Mo’s eyes, and graced her with a smile. “I know how you feel. Maybe not exactly, but letting go...that, I understand.”
Mo regarded Scully, and realized that they did have more in common than she ever would have thought. They were both forced to let go of the men they loved in order to save their lives. All to serve a larger balance that they could barely begin to comprehend. “Thank you. I hope, for your sake, and William’s, that Mulder is still alive out there. I hope you get to bring him home.”
Scully nodded silently, and then turned to leave. Mo watched her go, wondering how much more they would have in common. Would she be left without some idea of John’s fate, left waiting for some word that it was safe to go looking for him? Or would he simply appear at her door one day? Or would she eventually learn that he had been killed out there, never knowing that he was never truly alone?
The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes as she turned away from Scully’s receding figure, and walked in solitude towards her future.
****
11:13 AM
“Damn it, John, will you just stop and listen to me?”
Doggett didn’t slow down, but he did glance in Craig’s direction with a scowl. “What the hell are you doing here?” Then he waved off the question. “Never mind. Just go home. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Oh? And since when does that matter?” Craig rushed forward, stepping in front of John. “Just stop and listen to me for a moment.”
“What could you possibly have to say right now?” Doggett looked as though he were ready to knock Craig to the floor, but he stopped at the last moment. “What, do you know something about this?” He waved the note still clenched in his right fist towards Craig’s face. “Is this Angel’s little revenge?”
“This has nothing to do with her,” Craig said firmly. “But she did tell me what was happening, John, and that you were likely to do something very foolish.”
“Like what?” John insisted.
“Maybe go after her?” Craig replied. He shook his head. “Bad move, John. Don’t do it. This is not the kind of thing you can force. Whatever her reasons, if you love her, you know you have to respect them.”
“I can’t let her go like this, Craig,” John said, his angry mask breaking ever so slightly. “Not after everything we’ve been through. Not like this.”
Doggett pushed past him, towards the ticket counter. Craig glanced towards the nearest screen, and swore. There were still seats available on a flight to Denver, leaving within the hour. Angel hadn’t told him the full story, but he did know that she had made herself very clear. She had told him things that she had even kept hidden from Mo, decisions that would have to be made. John needed to survive long enough to fulfill his purpose. It was clear that Angel was willing to allow something terrible to happen, if necessary, to keep John on his path towards redemption.
Craig steeled himself, and ran forward to stop John before he could inquire about a ticket. “John, what are you going to do? Force her to understand, to accept the kind of life that you’re leading? Maybe she’s telling you the honest truth, John. Maybe she can’t handle this kind of life. Would you want her to live like this, even if it kills her? Inside, if not completely?”
“She said she loves me,” Doggett whispered, pressing his eyes shut. “And I know she knows I love her.”
“Then you need to let her go,” Craig replied softly. He looked at the conflict etched on his friend’s face. “Set her free, John. Until you and Monica and Dana can work all of this out.”
“That could take years,” John said past tightly pressed lips.
“Yes, it might,” Craig acknowledged. “But you need to have faith that she’ll be waiting for you.”
Craig could feel it. He hadn’t convinced him completely, but he had taken John as far as he possibly could. There was still a chance that it could all unravel, but he trusted John to do the right thing. When John opened his eyes, he saw that the choice had been made, and he nodded. “All right. I’ll leave you alone, then.” He stepped away, turning back after a few steps. “Call me if you need to talk.”
****
11:39 AM
John Doggett stood in front of the wide windows of the terminal, staring into the skyline. Planes came and went as the minutes ticked by, but he paid little notice to their movements. Not long ago, the woman he loved had boarded a plane just like them, never to return. And though his heart screamed for him to run after her, to hold on to her and never let go, he knew it would be the wrong thing to do.
For all the times he had hurt her, wronged her, let the thought of her pass by for days without a phone call, he could always take comfort in the fact that in the end, he had given completely of himself. Or at least, as completely as he was still capable. Maybe it hadn’t been enough. Maybe it really was that there was too much hanging over his head. He would always have his regrets, and he would always love her.
He opened the note, reading it again, word for word. His eyes lingered on the final paragraph.
Believe me, John, when I tell you that I’ll always love you. If there is ever a time when the danger’s passed, and you can just live again…come and find me. I’ll wait for you, John. As long as it takes. I love you always.
Yours forever, Morgan
As he read it, another memory flashed through his mind, something that had haunted his dreams more than once since he had seen her last. He saw Mo, older, her black hair shot with silver, the lines deeper in her face. She was in a room he didn't recognize, warm and full of books and pottery and other curious things he didn't recognize. Sitting in a big chair, a colorful Indian blanket thrown over her legs, she stroked the cat in her lap absently and turned the page of the book she was reading. Then, as if she'd heard something, she looked up. He could see a silvered scar that ran down her left cheek. Somehow it seemed that she was alone, that she'd been by herself for a long time, but the life in her eyes was as strong as he'd ever seen it. It was as if she'd become even more vibrant with age.
He stared at the page in his hand, and then he looked out the wide window one final time, his features still, until he turned away. Tossing the crumpled note to the floor, he stalked out of the terminal. He never looked back.
****
ALEXANDRIA, VA
11:50 AM
Angel stood behind her bar. It was still early, she knew, but she still felt the need for a stiff drink. In her mind’s eye, she knew that Morgan’s flight was approaching the critical point. If Craig didn’t arrive soon with the news she needed to hear, then she would have to let events unfold without her intervention. She could always reach out to him, find out more quickly, but that would mean letting go of Morgan. And right now, that was the last thing she wanted to do.
A noise by the door caught her attention. Craig was standing there, his expression worn and tired. He needed to sleep, she observed, and she wondered absently if she had been too liberal in her estimation of his endurance and strength. But he straightened finally, and she saw that it was simply the weight of his knowledge that burdened him.
“He stayed,” Craig said finally. “It might not change much, but he stayed.”
Angel said a thankful prayer, and quickly reached out towards the plane. She found the device that their enemies had planted within the fuselage, and with a subtle manipulation of energies, she disarmed it. Whatever message they had intended to send John Doggett, they would have to find another way. So long as it was within her power, Morgan Dannah would not be a viable target.
That work completed, Angel touched Morgan once more. She had strength, Angel mused, more strength than anyone could possibly know. She had done what needed to be done. And she would get the reward that she deserved. And even if she couldn’t promise anything, Angel vowed that she would do everything possible to make things right.
If John Doggett lived long enough.
****
30 MILES EAST OF DENVER, CO
MARCH 24, 2002
1:00 PM
Mo Dannah shifted in her seat as the announcement stirred her out of a sound sleep. She had been dreaming of being in John’s arms, dreaming that she had never woken up in his bed, never walked out of his life. She was struck with grief at the realization that she was still on the plane, on the final approach to an empty house and a suddenly more empty life, but she pushed it away. Angel had said that it would be a matter of weeks, no more than a couple months. As hard as it was, she could wait that long.
Yawning, she stretched slightly, then smirked with annoyance at the tight knot in her left calf. She reached down to rub it out, taking comfort in the feeling as her fingers kneaded her calf muscle back to feeling. She was still working at the muscle when she stopped, the sudden realization hitting her without warning.
She wiggled her toes in her left foot, then her right, and she found herself nearly breaking into sobs of joy. She could feel them. Not just in the distant and cold way that she had come to accept since she had been attacked that winter, but actual feeling. A part of her knew that it was far too soon to celebrate or even hope that it was more than fleeting sensation, but she couldn’t help but feel some sense of overwhelming happiness.
Taking a deep breath, she willed the familiar healing energies to flow through her, searching for something more substantial to pin her hopes upon. What struck her immediately was the heightened sense of complete balance. It was as though all of the artificial and imposed barriers had been lifted. She knew then, without a doubt, that in time, the damage to her nerves would be healed. The scars would remain, but they would be largely cosmetic.
She knew she was smiling in a way that would make little sense to someone looking her way, but she didn’t care. Not once had she hoped that something like this could happen. Marveling at the feeling, even as the energies slowly dissipated, she became aware that there was something more. A loosening of tension just above her hips, close to the energy center there, as if the flow had been stymied until the pressure had mounted high enough to force its way through. It was like nothing she had experienced before, and it worried her. And then something Dana Scully said ran through her mind.
“Angel wanted me to pass something on to you, if I managed to catch up with you. She said, ‘Remember the larger balance. Restoration will be matched in kind.’ Hopefully, that means something to you.”
Restoration. The larger balance.
Mo’s eyes went wide as she suddenly realized what had happened. She had fulfilled her promise to Angel by letting John go, and in turn, she had been rewarded. Angel had given something back to her that she had lost, just as she had done for Dana. And as she slid a hand over her belly, a tear running down her cheek, she realized just what Angel had been offering her. Offering her, and if her survived, John as well.
“Oh, Goddess,” she said, struck with mixed feeling of sorrow and elation. More than ever, she vowed that she would come back to him. If there were any chance, any hope, then she would make sure of it. She wouldn’t let this gift pass by unanswered. She would simply have to trust that fate would deliver him safely through the trials ahead.
