Title:  An Unexpected Delivery
Author:  Colleen
E-mail:  cwgirlup75@aol.com
Categories: DRR, baby-fic
Rating: NC-17
Author's notes: at end of part 2
Summary:  John gets an unexpected surprise....but it turns out 
to be just what he wants.


An Unexpected Delivery

Monica Reyes drove slowly down the street, carefully negotiating 
the icy terrain.  She was cold, tired, and at least an hour away 
from home.  She shifted in her seat, attempting to relieve the 
backache that had been steadily increasing since that morning.  
The snowfall was getting worse by the minute, and Monica quickly 
came to the realization that she wouldn't be getting home that 
night.  She sighed as she contemplated where to spend the night.  
After spending a week in Kentucky consulting on a case of 
apparent ritualistic murders with the local law enforcement, all 
she wanted to do was to soak in a hot bath, climb into her own 
bed, and sleep for two or three days.  She peered through the 
swirling snow at the street sign ahead of her and realized that 
she was within minutes of Mulder and Scully's new house.

"Thank goodness.  Dana won't mind me crashing there for the 
night," Monica thought to herself.

After a few moments, Monica pulled into the driveway and sighed 
with relief as she turned off the ignition.  Moving cautiously 
through the ice and snow to the back of the car, she opened the 
trunk, threw a few essentials from her suitcase into a small 
travel bag, and made her way to the front door.  Excited barking 
greeted her knock and footsteps approached the door.  When the 
door swung open, Monica stood frozen in place, staring at the 
figure before her.  After what seemed like hours, but was really 
only seconds, she pulled herself together enough to stammer, "J 
- John?  What are you doing here?"

Monica was overcome with memories, both good and bad, of the man 
in front of her.  In particular, she remembered their first, and 
last, night together.  They had been dating for a few months, 
sharing dinner together most nights, taking in an occasional 
movie, and just generally enjoying each others company.  That 
evening found them at Monica's apartment, relaxing in the glow 
of the television screen.  John sat on the floor in front of the 
couch, Monica between his legs, her back flush against his 
chest.  She rotated her neck from side to side, attempting to 
relieve the kinks that had built up over the course of the day.  
John noticed her discomfort and brought his hands to her 
shoulders, trying to massage away the pain.  After a few 
moments, it became apparent that the awkwardness of their 
position would not allow for an effective massage.

John reached around and retrieved a fluffy blanket off the 
couch, then instructed Monica to remove her shirt while he 
spread the blanket on the floor.  She lay on her stomach, 
pillowing her head on her arms while John straddled her lower 
back on his knees and began massaging the base of her neck.  His 
strong fingers kneaded her skin, skillfully unraveling the knots 
of tension he found there.  Monica's slight moans and her deep, 
relaxed breathing told him that she was enjoying his 
ministrations.  His hands left her shoulders and caressed the 
length of her back, pausing to flick open the back strap of her 
bra and stopping at the waistband of her jeans.  John turned his 
attentions to her arms, running his hands slowly from her 
forearms to her shoulders, enjoying the smooth feel of her skin.  
He reluctantly ended the massage and sat back on his heels, 
admiring the expanse of bare flesh before him.  She smelled 
faintly of lavender and something else that he couldn't quite 
identify - an enticing scent that was uniquely Monica.  John 
couldn't resist the urge to lean down and kiss the soft flesh at 
the base of her neck.  He smiled at the way her skin erupted 
into gooseflesh at the touch of his lips and continued to kiss 
and nip along her neck and shoulders.  After a few moments, he 
put his lips to her ear and whispered, "Turn over."

Monica rolled onto her back and stretched her arms above her 
head.  Her eyes locked with John's, and she shuddered at the raw 
need she saw in his gaze.  He lowered his head and met her lips 
with his, trying to convey in his kiss what he could not bring 
himself to say.  He shifted his hips, allowing her to feel his 
arousal, then raised his head and looked into her eyes.

"I want you, Mon, but I don't want to rush you into anything.  
Are you ready for this?"

A smile split her face as she answered.  "I'm more than ready, 
John.  Make love with me."

Monica's eyes drifted shut as John fastened his lips onto her 
neck and began to move down her body.  He pressed a trail of wet 
kisses between her breasts before affixing his mouth onto her 
left nipple.  His hand crept up to knead her right breast as he 
suckled on the left.  His pants grew uncomfortably tight as 
Monica's moans of pleasure filled his ears.  She brought her 
hands down to his head and tangled her fingers in his hair as he 
suckled at her like a hungry baby.  John moved his mouth to her 
right breast, lavishing it with the same attention as its twin 
until he felt Monica tugging at his hair.  He raised his head 
and smiled down at her.  She returned his smile and said, 
"You're overdressed, John."  She pulled his black T-shirt out of 
his jeans and pushed it up and over his head.  His upper body 
was toned from hours in the FBI gym and sparsely covered with 
light brown hair.  They separated long enough to finish 
undressing, pausing long enough to exchange a kiss that simply 
couldn't wait.  Monica took John's hand and led him to the 
bedroom.  She eased him down into a sitting position and 
straddled his lap, pulling him into a kiss that that made his 
blood race.  They had shared many different kisses over the past 
few months, but this one stood out because it marked the 
beginning of a new phase in their relationship.  They broke 
apart when their lungs began protesting the lack of oxygen, and 
John stood up, taking Monica with him.  He stepped away from her 
and drank in the sight of her nude body.  After a few moments, 
Monica broke the silence by asking in a hesitant voice, "What's 
wrong, John?"

He answered slowly, raking his gaze over her form before meeting 
her eyes.  "Nothing's wrong, Mon.  You're just so beautiful," he 
murmured as he pushed her down onto the bed and stretched out 
beside her.  She stroked his lower legs with her toes as his 
mouth fastened onto her neck, creating a mark that would force 
her to wear high collars for the next few days.  She arched her 
hips, a silent plea for him to relieve the sweet ache she felt 
building inside.

"John," she gasped, tugging at his arms.  He ignored her pleas, 
continuing to feast on her soft flesh.  "John," she said again, 
more forcibly this time.  After another moment, he raised his 
head to look at her.  "I want you inside me," she said.  "Now."

He grinned at her.  "Well, ma'am, I aim to please."  She spread 
her legs, inviting him in, as he took his hardened member in 
hand and caressed her wet folds.  They both groaned at this 
first intimate contact and locked eyes as John slowly began to 
push inside of her.  Her inner muscles stretched to accommodate 
him as he thrust, inch by inch, into her waiting body until he 
felt her hairs mingling with his.  He held himself still above 
her, fighting the urge to pound into her, determined to give her 
time to adjust to him.  She smiled up at him and shifted her 
hips.  He pulled back until just the head was still in her and 
drove forward, burying his length in her softness. Again and 
again he repeated this motion until her legs locked around his 
back and forced him to use short, quick jabs.  Her frenzied 
breathing and writhing beneath him told him that she was close 
to orgasm.  He felt himself swell within her and knew that his 
own release was near.  He worked a hand between their bodies and 
stroked her rhythmically.  Seconds later her entire body 
stiffened, and her head fell back as waves of pleasure washed 
over her.  The feel of Monica's inner walls contracting around 
him sent John over the edge, and he groaned as he emptied 
himself into her.  He collapsed against her, his strength spent.  
When he could move again, he rolled onto his back and attempted 
to halt his rapid breathing.  He opened his eyes a moment later 
to find Monica propped up on her elbow, smiling down at him.  He 
smiled back at her, and they kissed, long and slow and sweet.  
When their kiss ended, Monica snuggled down into his embrace as 
he tucked her fluffy comforter around them, and they sank into a 
sated, post-coital sleep.

Monica awoke hours later to find sunlight streaming through the 
window and an empty space where John had slept the night before.  
She yawned and stretched, grinning to herself as the events of 
the night before came back to her.  Climbing out of bed, she 
padded into the kitchen calling John's name, but received only 
silence as a response.  She opened the refrigerator and poured 
herself a glass of orange juice.  With juice in hand, she turned 
to walk into the living room when she spotted an envelope 
bearing her name propped up on the table.  She picked up the 
envelope with a strange sense of dread and withdrew the folded 
paper inside.  Her legs gave way, and she collapsed into a chair 
as she read.

"Dear Monica,

	I'm sorry.  I can't begin to describe how much I despise 
myself for taking the coward's way out like this, but I am a 
coward.  As much as I want to, I can't stay.  I realized last 
night that I've fallen in love with you, and I can't do that.  I 
can't do that to you, Mon.  I've failed every person I've ever 
loved, and I refuse to do the same to you.  You are so full of 
life, and if I stay here you will lose that energy and spark.  
You will be mired down by my life, and I can't let that happen.  
This is for the best, Monica.  Trust me on this.  I'll never 
forget you and what we have shared.  Please remember that I love 
you.

													
		John"

That was the last she heard from John.  He had handed in a 
request for re-assignment and no one knew where he had gone.  
She spent the following days and weeks trying to find him, but 
he had gone to great lengths to conceal his whereabouts, and her 
efforts were all in vain.  Within a matter of weeks, she 
discovered that John had left more than his friends and loved 
ones behind.  At first, she attributed the nausea and fatigue to 
the amount of stress she was feeling, but when she realized that 
her calendar contained no little red stars for the previous six 
weeks, she gathered her nerve and bought a home pregnancy test.  
As she perched on the edge of the bathtub and watched the two 
blue lines appear in the window of the test stick, she began to 
laugh and sob at the same time.  She couldn't help thinking how 
ironic it was that she had everything she wanted - a job she 
loved, good friends, and a baby on the way - and the man she 
most wanted to share it with had disappeared from her life.

A sharp bark jerked her out of her memories.  The small Jack 
Russell Terrier at her feet pranced and wagged his stubby tail 
in expectation of the treat she always brought him.  
Mechanically, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a few of 
the jerky bits she kept for him.  He snapped them from the air 
as she tossed them and sat at her feet.  John's voice broke into 
her trance-like state.

"Mulder and Scully asked me to dog-sit for Moby while they took 
William to visit her mother.  Why are you here, Monica?"

Monica stared at him for another few seconds before answering.  
"The storm...the storm is too bad to keep driving in.  I was 
going to ask Dana if I could stay here tonight."

John stepped back and waved her through the front door.  Monica 
stepped into the foyer and placed her bag on the floor while 
John closed the door behind her.  "I didn't think I'd see you 
again, John.  How long are you in town for?"

"Actually, I've been re-assigned to the X-Files.  I've been back 
for a few days now."

Monica finally gave in to the urge she had been fighting and 
looked into his eyes.  The look of loneliness she saw there 
mirrored her own.  "Why, John?  Why now?  After all these 
months....why did you come back?"  She turned away from him as 
she felt tears fill her eyes, and she had the fleeting thought 
that she was glad her oversized winter coat kept her condition 
from being immediately obvious.

John could feel each individual heartbeat in the silence that 
followed.  He had imagined this moment a hundred different ways 
- the moment when he would be reunited with Monica - but he had 
never imagined it like this.  For better or worse, the time had 
come to tell her what was in his heart.

"You, Monica.  I came back for you.  I spent every day of the 
past eight months missing you, wondering how you were, if you 
were thinking of me, if you could ever forgive me for leaving 
the way I did.  I was scared, Mon.  I know that's no excuse, but 
it's the only one I have.  I woke up that night and looked at 
you, sleeping so peacefully, and it struck me how completely and 
totally I had fallen for you.  I was so happy - and then the 
fear hit.  Just overwhelming terror, rising up and threatening 
to choke me.  Telling me that I was going to ruin your life, 
just the way I ruined Barbara's life.  That I would fail to keep 
you safe, just like I failed Luke.  So I ran.  I panicked, and I 
ran, and I have spent eight months regretting that.  I almost 
called you a thousand times, Monica, but I just couldn't get 
past my fear.  The urge to be with you finally got to be too 
much to ignore though, and I came home to see if I could make 
things right - if it's not too late."

Monica felt as if she was being pulled in two different 
directions.  Her head was telling her to leave - to let him 
suffer the way she had suffered.  Her heart was telling her to 
take him into her arms as she had wanted to do for months and 
accept his love.  She stood motionless, feeling the battle rage 
inside her.  In the end, her heart won out.  With her back still 
to him, she said, "I want to believe you, John.  I really do.  I 
want a life with you so much, but there is something you need to 
know first."  She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over 
the back of the sofa, then turned to face him.  Her right hand 
rested on her swollen belly as she stared into his eyes.

John Doggett had been left literally speechless very few times 
in his life.  Having worked as both a New York City police 
officer and a special agent for the FBI, he was not even fazed 
by most things that would stun the average citizen.  The sight 
in front of him, however, effectively reduced him to a 
stuttering, stammering mess.

"I....uh....how.....when.....I mean...wow....I'm sorry....I 
didn't know.....how long....Oh, God, Monica...I'm so sorry I 
wasn't here."

Monica gave him a half-smile, both amused by his reaction and 
saddened by the fact that he had missed so much.  "I'm sorry you 
weren't here too, John.  But you are now."

"How much longer do you have to go?"

"I'm due in three weeks and one day," she answered with a sigh.  
"Three weeks too long, in my opinion.  I'm more than ready for 
this pregnancy to be over with."

John took a step toward Monica and lifted a head to her stomach.  
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the bulge that housed his child. 

Monica smiled and took John's hand, placing it on her abdomen.  
The skin was warm and taut, and he could feel the baby shifting 
under his fingers.  The small movements mesmerized him, and he 
found himself remembering the earliest days of Luke's babyhood.  
He was suddenly seized by a deep sense of gratitude that he had 
returned when he did, and he vowed that this child would always 
know how loved he or she was.

"So," he asked, "do we know what it is yet?"

"Well, John, it's a baby," she replied with a grin.  "That's all 
I'm sure of.  My doctor didn't feel that an ultrasound was 
necessary for me, and I agreed.  We just have to wait and be 
surprised."  A huge yawn interrupted her train of thought, and 
she blinked her eyes to clear them.

"Mon, I can tell you are worn out.  Why don't you take Mulder 
and Scully's room, and I'll crash on the couch.  We can talk 
more tomorrow. Ok?"

"That sounds good, John.  I really am tired.  I'll see you in 
the morning."  She smiled at him as she picked up her bag and 
disappeared into the main bedroom.

John stood there for a moment, staring at the bedroom door, 
before grabbing some bedding out of the linen closet and making 
up the couch.  Hours later, he was still lying there, staring up 
at the ceiling.  His head was too full of thoughts to allow 
sleep to come.  He was mentally kicking himself for the 
hundredth time when he heard her calling him with what sounded 
like fear in her voice.  He got off the couch and hurried into 
the bedroom.  The bed was empty, but the bathroom light was on.  
He walked in to find Monica in what was obviously one of his old 
shirts, a puddle of water at her feet and unspoken fear in her 
eyes.

"Holy shit, Mon.  Are you ok?"

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it and bent forward, 
clutching at her thighs as a new wave of pain hit her.  She 
breathed deeply and managed to gasp, "Baby.  I think it's 
coming."

"God in Heaven," he muttered, as he crossed to her.  He held her 
arm as the contraction ran its course, then helped her into the 
bedroom.  "Sit here, Mon," he said, leading her to a chair.  
"I'm going to call 911."

John ran into the living room and punched 9-1-1 on the phone.  
"Come on, come on....answer."

The phone rang twice and a voice came over the line.  "911.  
What is your emergency, please?"

"I need help.  I have a woman in labor here."

"What is your location, sir?"

He began to rattle off the address when he noticed the crackle 
of static on the other end of the phone.  He punched the release 
button a few times, but nothing happened.  "Just fuckin great," 
he thought.

Monica's cry of pain floated down the hall.  Abandoning the 
phone, he ran back to where she sat, attempting to breathe 
through another contraction.  He crouched down and took her 
hands, looking directly into her eyes.  "That's it.  Just 
breathe."  He purposely kept his voice low and controlled, 
betraying none of the fear he felt.  He knew that he needed to 
act calm in order to help her stay as calm as possible.  When 
the spasm ended, he released her hand and checked his watch.  
This one had lasted for almost a minute, and as best he could 
figure, it had only been four or five minutes since the last 
one.  Shit.  "Monica," he asked, "how long has this been going 
on?"

"Well," she answered, biting her lip, "it's only been bad for 
about an hour, but I've had back pains since this morning.  I 
didn't think much about it because I've been having Braxton-
Hicks contractions for about a week now, and I didn't want to 
bother you for nothing."  She stared at him, and he saw tears 
well up in her eyes.  "I'm scared, John.  It's too early.  What 
if something's wrong?"

John wiped away the lone tear making its way down her cheek and 
kissed her forehead.  "Hey, now.  None of that kind of talk.  
This baby is going to be strong and healthy, just like its mom.  
He or she is just eager to get out into the world, also like his 
or her mom."  She smiled at that, and he grabbed his cell phone 
off the dresser.  "What are you doing, John?"

"Well, Mon, the storm knocked out the phones, and there's about 
a foot and a half of snow outside the window.  Even if we could 
get hold of emergency services, there's no way they'd get here 
in time.  Whether we like it or not, we are going to have to 
deliver this baby, and I think we need some help," he replied as 
he tapped out a number.  "Dana, it's John.  No...no...everything 
is fine with the house, Dana.  I need your help, and I don't 
have time for questions.  Monica's here, and she's in labor.  
Her water broke roughly ten minutes ago, and her contractions 
are coming about five minutes apart.  Aw shit," he said, 
glancing over at Monica, who was again grimacing in pain, "make 
that three minutes."

"Wow.  Ok, John, here's what you need to do," said Dana, in what 
John recognized as her 'Dr. Scully' tone.  "First, go into the 
storage closet in the hallway.  There's a plastic drop cloth in 
there from when Fox painted William's nursery.  Get it, strip 
the sheets off our bed, and put the plastic over the mattress."  
John hurried to do as he was told, awkwardly tucking the cell 
phone between his ear and shoulder.  "How are you doing, Mon?" 
he asked as he stripped the bed.

"I'm ok.  But I think we need to hurry."

"Stay with me, John," came Dana's voice.  "Grab a clean sheet 
out of the linen closet and run an iron over it."  

"What the hell," he thought.  "She's worried about wrinkles?"

"The iron is to kill germs, John," said Dana in answer to his 
unasked question.  "Turn it on high and run it over the sheet 
and a few of William's receiving blankets too."  John followed 
her orders as if his life depended on it.  Monica's might.  The 
thought sprang to his mind, and he pushed it away.  He didn't 
have time for thoughts like that.  He didn't have time for 
anything except the crisis at hand.  He returned to the bedroom 
and made up the bed.  "Ok, Mon, let me help you lie down now."

"Wait, John.  Ask Dana if there's a clean shirt I can wear 
somewhere around here."

He spoke into the phone.  "Dana, where are Mulder's shirts?  An 
extra large one would be best."  He reached into the dresser and 
handed it to Monica, then went into the kitchen to get scissors 
and thread as Dana instructed.  When he returned to the bedroom, 
he found Monica in bed.  She'd pushed the pillows into a pile 
against the headboard and spread the top sheet over her.  Her 
knees were drawn up, making a tent so he couldn't see her 
pumpkin shape.  Her hair was spread out across the pillow 
beneath her head.

The strangest feeling came over John.  For a split second, no 
more than the space between one heartbeat and the next, it 
seemed perfectly right that he should crawl into bed and make 
love to her.  He clenched his fists so hard that his nails bit 
into his palms, fighting the urge that was so strong, he feared 
he'd do it before he could stop himself.  He called himself a 
name, but couldn't stop that sensations flooding over him.  
Having this baby reminded him of making it, a very pleasant 
process, if he remembered correctly.

John broke out of his thoughts when he saw the telltale frown 
begin on her face.  Still holding the cell phone, he sat down on 
the bed and grabbed her hand.  "Look at me, Mon.  Focus on me.  
Take a deep breath.  Now let it out, nice and slow.  That's the 
way, baby.  You're doing great."

The sweat was standing out on her brow when it was over.  "That 
was a long one," she informed him.

Dana again spoke in his ear.  "How long was it, John?"

He glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed.  "A minute and a 
half."

"It shouldn't be long now, John.  Is everything ready?"

He glanced around.  "As ready as it can be, I guess."  God help 
him, this was really going to happen.  Any minute now, Monica 
would give birth to a real, live baby, and he was going to have 
to deliver it.  He suddenly felt a bit faint.

A minute later, the frown started on her forehead again.  "Take 
my hands," he said.  "Here we go."

She grabbed hold of him as if she'd never let go.  She breathed 
deeply, then started panting.  She released his hands and drew 
her knees toward her chest as he removed the sheet covering her.  
"Ohhhh," she moaned.  "I have to push, John."

"She says she has to push, Dana.  What do I do now?"

"Showtime, John.  Let her lead the way.  Her body knows what to 
do.  You just listen to me."

As if he could do anything else.  "Ok, Dana."

John glanced at Monica.  He could see her concentration focus 
inward.  She drew a long, deep breath and held it.  And held it.  
All at once, he could see her muscles clench in unison, 
straining with her efforts to expel the child from her body.

"Ok, John," said Dana.  "I need you to check her progress and 
tell me what you see."

He knelt down as gently as he could and looked between her legs.  
"I see it," he told her.

Monica began panting again, hard and fast.  "Damn, Dana....I see 
the head."  He fought against the knot in his throat.  He didn't 
have time for thoughts or feelings now.  "It's coming.  Here it 
comes."

Monica moaned and strained as hard as she could.  "That's it," 
he said.  Excitement crept into his voice.  "You're doing good, 
baby.  I love you so much.  Just a little more.  Ok, Dana, the 
head is out.  It's facing down."

"That's fine, John.  Make sure the cord isn't around the neck."

He looked.  "No. No, it isn't. I don't see it."  Relief swept 
over him.  Everything seemed to be going ok.  Minutes passed.  
He waited, unsure of what was supposed to happen next.  Monica 
shifted restlessly.  She grabbed at the sheets and began panting 
once more.  She gave another giant push and the child slid into 
his hands.  The baby let out an indignant yell, expressing his 
opinion of recent events.

"A boy!" he screamed.  "It's a boy!  Hot damn, Mon, we did it!  
We have a son!"

He heard Dana yelling on the other end of the phone. "It's a 
boy, Fox!"

Monica smiled tiredly.  "Let me see him."

He held the baby up.  "Everything's there.  Fingers, toes, eyes, 
ears.  All the right parts in the right places."  He was 
grinning like an idiot.

"Now finish," Dana instructed.

"Right."  He managed to sever the cord without fainting.  He 
wrapped the baby in one of the freshly ironed blankets and 
handed him to Monica.

"He's so beautiful, John," she said, tears streaming down her 
cheeks.

"Of course he is," he murmured, brushing the hair off her sweat 
soaked forehead.  "He looks just like his mother."

"Ok, John," came Dana's voice, "you aren't done yet.  You need 
to massage her abdomen to help expel the afterbirth."

His strong fingers gently massaged her abdomen.  He frowned a 
bit and said, "It feels like she's still having contractions, 
Dana.  Is that normal?"

"Yes, John.  Her body is pushing out the placenta."

Almost as soon as the last syllable left her mouth, Monica 
spoke, with shock in her voice, "John?  John, take him.  Take 
him now.  I need to push again."

"What?!"  He took the infant and ran into the nursery with him.  
He gently placed him in the crib and ran back in to Monica.  She 
was already pushing, and he could see the curve of a head 
between her thighs.  "Dana!  There's another head coming out!"

"Ok, John.  Just calm down.  Do what you just did.  She needs 
you to be strong right now."  

John took a breath and let it out slowly.  "Ok, Mon, here we go 
again.  Looks like our son had a playmate in there with him."  
The head appeared as he spoke, and the rest of the body slid out 
with the next contraction.  The baby let out a mewling cry as 
John held her up for Monica's inspection.

"It's a girl, Monica!  A daughter.  We have a son and a 
daughter," he laughed, tears of joy and relief making their way 
down his face.  He wrapped their baby girl in another of the 
blankets after cutting the cord and gave her to Monica, then 
retrieved their son and rested him in Monica's other arm.

"Thank you for all your help, Dana."

"No need to thank me, John," she said with a smile in her voice.  
"Fox was able to get through to 911, so the paramedics should be 
on their way.  We'll see you all in a day or so.  Take care of 
them, John."

"I will, Dana.  Always.  Bye."

John glanced over at Monica and leaned into her.  The kiss was 
slow and sweet.  John pulled away, licking his lips.  "I missed 
that, too," he said smiling.  He removed the used sheet, 
replacing it with a fresh one.  "You are one of the bravest 
people I have ever met," he said in reverent tones before 
heading for the washroom.  When he returned, Monica had her eyes 
closed.  He gently took the babies and nestled them beside her.  
They'd be on their way to the hospital before long, but for now 
he'd let them rest.

Fatigue washed over him.  He opened the front door and stepped 
out onto the porch.  Damn.  He couldn't believe he'd just 
delivered two babies, both of which seemed to be ok.  So many 
things could have gone wrong.  Sinking down onto the cold wood, 
he quit fighting and let his emotions wash over him, unable to 
hold them back any longer.  Hot tears coursed down his cheeks as 
his body shook with sobs.  When he was drained, he walked back 
into the house.  He made his way to the bed and stretched out 
beside Monica, their children between them.  Within minutes, the 
little family was asleep.

John awoke to the sound of knocking on the door.  He opened it 
to find two paramedics on the front porch.

"We got a call about a woman in labor here, sir."

"You're a little late, boys.  They're right down this hall," he 
said, leading the way into the bedroom.

The younger, sandy-haired medic let out a low whistle.  "You did 
this by yourself?"

John nodded, a feeling of pride bubbling up inside him.

The older medic was all business.  "Ok, let's get them bundled 
up and to the hospital."

The two carefully loaded Monica onto the stretcher while John 
followed, cradling an infant in each arm.  Soon they were all in 
the ambulance and heading for the hospital, where they were 
separated for the first time since everything began.  Monica and 
the babies were sent to the obstetrics ward to be checked out, 
and John stayed behind to fill out the myriad of necessary 
forms.  He impatiently scrawled his way through them, eager to 
get back to Monica and his children.  When he finally walked 
into Monica's room, he saw her lying in bed in a semi-reclining 
position, eyes closed.  Beside her bed were two clear plastic 
isolettes, each bearing a card on the end.  Baby Girl Reyes-
Doggett and Baby Boy Reyes-Doggett.  Tears came to his eyes as a 
smile the size of Texas split his face.  She had given them his 
name.  Just then, she opened her and smiled sleepily at him.  
"Hi, John."

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty.  How are you feeling?"

"Good.  Tired and sore, but good.  Thank you for helping me 
through tonight.  I couldn't have done it on my own."

"Hey, all I did was catch.  You did the hard part."  He brushed 
a piece of her off her forehead and looked into her eyes.  "So, 
do you have names for these two?"

"Well, I had a boy's name and a girl's name picked out, since I 
didn't know the sex.  I guess we can use them both now," she 
said with a grin.

"Well, are you going to keep me in suspense or are you going to 
tell me?  No, wait.  I'll just call them 1 and 2."

Monica reached out and bopped him on the arm.  "Hand them to 
me."

John carefully placed one baby in each of Monica's arms.  "Ok, 
Daddy.  I want you to meet Jonathan James Reyes-Doggett, and 
Katherine Angela Reyes-Doggett."

John touched the soft little caps on their heads and stroked 
their cheeks.  "Those are big names for little people.  How bout 
we call them J.J. and Katie for now?"

"J.J. and Katie Reyes-Doggett.  Sounds good to me."  

"I'd like to make one change though," John said, digging into 
his pocket.  He pulled out a small jewelry box and removed a 
stunning emerald ring.  "I think it should be J.J., Katie, and 
Monica Reyes-Doggett."  He dropped to one knee beside her bed.  
"Monica, will you make my life complete and marry me?"

She glanced down at their babies and back at him with tears in 
her eyes.  "Yes, John.  We will."

THE END

Author's notes: This story was actually going to be a short D/R 
married fic, but Mon and John jumped me and demanded that I 
write this story, so here it is.  I am not a doctor or nurse, 
and my only knowledge of childbirth is what I could dredge up 
from when my son was born five years ago, so any medical stuff 
could be totally wrong.  This is probably going to be the first 
of a series, depending on what kind of feedback I get.  (Hint, 
Hint)  Thanks for reading :)

PS: The origin of their son's name is fairly obvious, but 
chocolate covered Doggetts (or Reyes') go to anyone who can 
guess where the baby girl's name came from. (And no, it is not 
Scully's middle name)