Ficcidy fic fic.
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Title: Until the End of the World
Author: cataclysmiic
Disclaimer: It’s all Chris Carter’s, yo.
Characters: Doggett & Reyes.
Rating: PG
Words: 674(ish)
Notes: Set directly after ‘’The Truth’’.
Summary: Monica closed her eyes. John began to open his mouth slightly after a few minutes, but again, she spoke first. “Don’t ever apologize.”
“In waves of regret, waves of joy
I reached out for the one I tried to destroy
you said you’d wait
until the end of the world”
-- U2
The thin white fabric of her tank top stuck to her skin from the sweat, a guaranteed side effect of the southwestern heat. She felt the moisture rising from her arms, her face, and every other part of uncovered skin. Her jeans were still dirty with sand and clay and dirt from the desert. They sat low on her hips as she lay on the clean, generic motel bedding. Her bare feet dangled from the edge of the mattress.
She was staring unblinkingly out of the windows, which were half covered by curtains that made the dark room even darker. The air was bursting with humidity even inside this room, and the bit of sky she could see from between the slips of stiff white fabric was a gentle but threatening blue-grey.
A storm should have been coming, but maybe it never would.
Electricity, the uncertainty of what might come, hung invisible and woven into the air like static.
Brown eyes darted towards the heavy door in the corner. It was locked with both chain and deadbolt. Already it seemed that the paranoia was settling in to cover up any real feeling not stolen by the knowledge they now had.
Her ears picked up the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.
John.
Breathing out slowly, she closed her eyes. They stung from dryness.
So this was it, she thought. This was running away. This was having gotten lost in the game and never being able to escape. This was life waiting for it all to come crashing in, a life constantly running, knowing you couldn’t do a damn thing to stop any of it. This was the beginning of uncertainty, of inevitability, of surrender and of war. This was the beginning of everything.
This was life knowing how the world would end.
The shower stopped suddenly.
Monica ran a hand through her damp hair, and a few moments later he came out of the bathroom in a pair of worn down jeans, pulling that dirty blue t-shirt over his head. The clothes they wore, a spare set in the car and the weapons sitting on the bedside table were now their only possessions in the world.
Monica caught John’s eye, and they stared across the room at each other in silence. Monica looked away first.
A moment later she felt the mattress sink under his weight, felt his body move close to hers. He breathed out deeply.
Silence.
Thunder finally cracked outside the motel walls.
She spoke finally, in a soft tone. “We’re in this together, right?”
John nodded. “’Course,” he whispered. “’Til the end.”
Monica swallowed. She watched a raindrop hit the window. Her eyes had lost their softness over the course of the last twenty-four hours.
They were both scared like hell, but they were also determined. They had picked sides a long time ago.
“I love you,” she said suddenly, quietly, though her voice was surprisingly strong. Her steely eyes were still fixed on that window.
It was John’s turn to swallow. There was another silence.
“I love you too, Mon.”
He put one arm around her, and a moment later the other. She wove her fingers with his and they lay quietly, counting the raindrops as they fell onto the glass, the future too expansive to grasp and so they stayed inside this moment a little while longer.
Monica closed her eyes. John began to open his mouth slightly after a few minutes, but again, she spoke first.
“Don’t ever apologize.”
Heavy raindrops were pounding the window like lost souls, and again they collapsed into a fragile and precious silence.
Together they would wait until the end of the world.