Title: After
Author: Asta Luna.
Rating: PG.
Spoilers: The Truth.
Distribution: Anywhere - just alert me, please. 
Disclaimer: They're not mine. But hey, I guess they're not anybody's 
anymore, huh?

Summary: Only hours before we had left Mulder and Scully behind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Monica's head was resting on my lap as we drove through the hot, dry
desert. Only hours before we had left Mulder and Scully behind. 
Thoughts of them ran through my head. I hoped to God they'd made it
out of there.

Monica was so tired, and morning sickness had already begun. She'd
thrown up twice out the passenger's side door. Eyes bleary and red,
she put her head into my lap. I stroked her hair with one hand, the
other hand on the steering wheel. She had been two months pregnant
then. Hiding our little secret.

We drove on for hours. Days. Desert turned into mountains. The hot
climate turned moderate, then downright cold. We made our way up to
British Columbia. Disheveled, starving and exhausted, we crossed the
border.

We pulled into a motel parking lot. The Shady Acres Motel, nine
ninety-nine a night. I shrugged. As long as it had a bed and a
shower, I was there. I nudged Monica. She grunted softly, and rubbed
her sleep-laden eyes. "Where are we?" She asked hoarsely.

"Shady Acres Motel. Green Mills. British Columbia," I said.

She ran a hand through her hair. "Does this place have cable?"

I chuckled. "Let's go see."

We checked in at the front counter. An overweight, middle aged man
wearing a flannel shirt and filthy jeans carried our two suitcases for
us. He held out his hand, and I begrudgingly shoved five dollars
American into it.

Monica was so tired, she could barely stand upright. She stumbled
onto the bed, using me as a crutch. "God, I need sleep." She said
softly, rubbing her face with her hands. She glanced over at me. 
"Come keep me warm."

"I need a shower before I do anything. Care to join me?" I asked. 
Monica yawned, then nodded. I pulled her to her feet and began
stripping off her clothes. It wasn't as sexy as it should have been
-- we hadn't showered or brushed our teetth in a very long time. We
neither smelled nor looked very nice.

After twenty minutes under a hot, steamy shower, Monica looked about
ready to pass out from lack of sleep. I carried her to the bed and
pulled the covers over both of us. The last thing I remember thinking
before I drifted off to sleep was "Just seven more months. Please
God, just give us seven more months . . ."

End.