PART THREE �Come in John.� Monica�s face showed the smiling expression I had imagined on the way over and my heart lifted. What she did next was another sign that our relationship was moving on. She took my hand in hers and led me to the livingroom. �Coffee, John?� �Yes Monica, black.� As she floated to the kitchen and then came back with two coffees I noticed her for the first time as a woman and not just a partner. She was beautiful. Her radiant face lit up against her jet-black hair. Her eyes sparkled as she sat down next to me, looking into my eyes. �What John?� She gave a small puzzled shake of her head. How could I tell her what I was thinking? What would she think of me? This was not the right time. �I better tell you about this new case Monica.� I took a sip of my coffee so I could divert my eyes from hers. Could she tell what I was thinking? I know that women can be pretty accurate with how men think sometimes. She shifted in her seat and then sat back while I explained about the Bowmans and their haunted house. �So John, how do you feel about staying there a whole night with me?� �You sound as though we�re going to sleep in the same bed.� I said this then immediately regretted it. I think I embarrassed her. Her face flushed and she hung her head. I lightly placed a hand on her shoulder. �It was just a joke Monica.� She smiled and placed her hand on mine. Reyes: I left my hand on his for a moment, feeling the warmth on my hand, but the shivers down my spine. Was that sparks? I brushed the feeling away. "What should I bring, John?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee, which I'd added Irish Cream to. "I guess an extra pair of clothes and a toothbrush or whatever...y'know, an overnight bag." "Okay. John, do you have any silver?" "What?" "Silver, jewelry. Ghosts are attracted to silver." He sort of shook his head and let out a small snort. "Monica, you aren't taking this seriously, are you?" "Why not?" "Well, I mean, it doesn't surprise me that *you* think ghosts are real." "Thanks." "No, no. I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant, that...you believe in this stuff, but these people...I don't know..." "John, have you ever seen The Amityville Horror?" "You mean that corny, stupid movie based on real happenings? Yes." "That was a hoax. You're right. It was stupid. Corny. Come on, a demonic pig? But...did they describe what's been going on?" "Yeah...sounds after midnight and lights going on and off...whatever..." "Poltergeists." I whispered. "What?" "Poltergeists, German for 'noisy spirit'." "Yeah, they're said to throw stuff, start fires...basically very havoc wrecking ghosts." There was a tone of amusement in his voice. "Is this all a joke to you, John?" I asked. "No...but, come on. Spirits hanging around to haunt?" "They don't necessarily haunt, John. They have unfinished business." "Like what?" I was going to win this argument, dammit. I knew John didn't believe in this stuff, but I had to show him the idea wasn't so far out there. "What if you loved someone and you never told her how you felt? And you died tomorrow? Eh? That's unfinished business." He was silent. Wow. He didn't put up much of a fight with that one. I felt the vibes...no, it wasn't sexual tension. Something else...guilt? Embarrassment? Coming from....John? I sighed. "Look, I have my beliefs and you have yours. No need to argue." "Yeah," he said. "Anyway, we're supposed to go over there today to look at the house by day." "Okay." "I'll come by later, when you're dressed." I realized I was still in my pajama pants and a tank top. "Alright. About noon?" "Sure. See you at noon." Something was up with John Doggett. My little comment had gotten to him. Was he in love with someone? If he was, I got the feeling it wasn't me. Doggett: Why did she have to go and say that? <<What if you loved someone and you never told her how you felt? And you died tomorrow? That's unfinished business.>> Why did she have to dredge up the feelings I�ve been trying to lock deep inside me? Am I wrong in keeping my feelings for Scully to myself? Should I tell her and risk my friendship with her and with Mulder? I could tell Monica knew something was different with me. Her smile had dimmed and she was almost pushing me out the door. I wish I knew what she was thinking, one moment joyous to see me then the next quiet and guarded. �John, you better go now. I need to shower and prepare for our investigation. You can find your own way out.� What I felt like doing and what I did do then were very different. I wanted to hold her chin gently in my hand, guide her face to look into mine and ask her to confide in me. I wanted to know her mind. What I did do was watch her walk away from me towards her bedroom and I left her apartment with no more words. All the way home it bothered me. I wish I could read women better. I knew I felt good when Reyes was happy and it made me feel insecure when she was sad. If only I knew what to do to make her happy all the time. Today and tonight would be like a test. This would be the longest time we had spent together as partners. What would the next twenty-four hours hold? Whatever it did hold was certainly not pre-planned by fate, not if I could help it. �������� I was actually surprised by my reaction when Monica opened the door for me just after midday. She looked beautiful. Her hair was tied back loosely and she had on a pale blue buttoned up blouse with a little darker blue linen pants. I wondered if she saw the look of awe on my face. Her face was certainly back to its happy self. Then I noticed her Bob the Builder overnight bag and I just laughed. �John, it was a present from my niece, okay.� Monica smiled at my reaction and brushed past me grabbing my hand on the way. She was certainly more forward than Scully ever was, and she was certainly not embarrassed to draw attention to herself. I like that about Monica. It�s not often that my sense of humor surfaces but around Monica it floats more often than it used to. Reyes: John looked genuinely surprised when I opened the door. Maybe it was because I hadn't blow-dried my hair, or maybe it was because I was wearing blue, but he looked nothing but surprised. I closed and locked my door behind it, Bob the Builder bag in hand. "Ready for me to prove you wrong?" I asked, jokingly. John shook his head. "I really think this is all a big, big joke, Monica," he said. "We'll just see about that." "I guess we will, won't we." I smiled. It was great to play competition with John. He was so cute while trying to be competitive. PART FOUR Reyes: At the Bowman house, I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't a twenty-year-old, white and green split-level. Maybe I thought it would be some huge mansion. But ghosts haunt everywhere, not just the cliche mansion. It was big and dark inside, with six bedrooms and two bathrooms. There was a fireplace in one of the lower floors, and I sighed. It was a very magical place to be. John wasn't buying the ghostly atmosphere. Mr. and Mrs. Bowman had gone to a motel for the night, and left a note on the table for us. "Agents, we really appreciate this. You can sleep in the upstairs bedroom on the left. That's where the most activity goes on. And don't worry about the silk. It doesn't seem to stop these ghosts-The Bowmans." I smiled. They seemed pretty frazzle minded, just by reading this person's handwriting. I walked into the bedroom where the note said we could stay. And upon entering I gasped. The bed was covered entirely in black silk. The sheets, the pillowcases, the blankets, silk. All silk. It was said that ghosts didn't like silk. They stayed away from it. But apparently this ghost didn't mind it. "There's only one bed. I'll sleep in the other bedroom." "No," I said, a little too quickly. "I don't mind. Really. Besides, we should both be in the room in case something happens." I didn't mention the fact that the thought of sleeping in the same bed as John Doggett wrapped in black silk aroused me very much. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It's against policy." "Screw policy. This is a must-do. In case something happens, we both have to see it." I said matter-of-factly. "Alright...but I get the left side of the bed." Doggett: She seemed a little too eager for me to sleep in this bed with her. I wondered whether this *screwing of policy* would continue with her and how often had she flaunted the regulations in the past. �Okay Monica, I can see where you�re going with this but you must know what being in bed with a beautiful woman does to us hot-blooded males.� I said this as a joke but the look on her face surprised me. �You really think I�m beautiful John?� I�d really put my foot in it this time. There was no escape. I just had to come out with what I�d been thinking. I moved up closer to her and spoke softly. �Yes, you�re beautiful Monica.� The way she looked at me then melted my heart. It was as though I had just told her the revelation of a lifetime. Surely she knew that she was very attractive. Didn�t every woman know her assets? She moved her hand up to my face and gently caressed my cheek with her thumb. I felt myself lean into her hand. What was happening here? I was feeling twinges of desire for this woman that I couldn�t understand. My body was telling me to kiss her but my conscience was holding me back. I moved away before my body took over. �Ah, Monica. I think we should take a look around. You know, get used to our surroundings. Maybe we could think about dinner tonight?� Reyes: The feel of his face leaning in my hand was amazing. I never wanted to move from that position. But I had to. I cleared my throat. "For dinner, we can just eat something they have in their kitchen. We're trying to solve these peoples' haunted problem, they should at least supply us a meal." I smiled. John smiled back. "We could even find candles..." I trailed off, and turned to examine the living room further. I walked over to the fireplace, where there were several pictures of the same two little girls-one looked about 5, the other 16. The 16-year-old had black hair and pale skin, with mascara and eyeliner thickly applied. In all of her pictures, she had the slightest of smiles. The five-year-old had curly blond hair and was always in a dress or skirt. She always had a bright, freshening smile that might get annoying once in a while. "Monica, come look at this." I turned and saw John, examining a family portrait. I looked at it and saw Mrs. Bowman, Mr. Bowman, and the two girls from the fireplace. And another girl standing there, she looked about 14, and she was a mix between the other girl�s blond hair, but lots of makeup and no smile. "So?" "Do you see that other blond in any of the pictures here?" "No, I guess not...but what if she's at college or something? What if she wasn't here for all the rest of these pictures?" "Monica, she looks 14." "So?" John sighed. "Whatever. I was just bringing that to your attention." "Thank you." I smiled. John looked at me strangely. He had a goofy half grin on, and it made me wonder what his looks were going to make me do in that bed later tonight. Doggett: There was that look again on Monica�s face, half laughing, half thoughtful. I�d seen it a lot lately. It�s funny though, I never remember seeing it when we were working on that case in New York. Maybe it was just that she was happy with her life now. After all this was her dream job. I looked at my watch and realized it was already 6 pm. The afternoon had flown by. I found Monica rummaging around in the room they would probably call the library. It was a magnificent room, plush red carpet, mahogany furniture, antique furnishings and walls lined with bookcases. The Bowmans were obviously collectors of old books. I spied a very old copy of Homer�s Odyssey remembering having read and enjoyed that back in my college days. In one corner was a small open fireplace set with logs. In front was the most comfortable looking sofa I had ever seen. It was set with plump red cushions to match the carpet. I imaged that this room would have a romantic glow to it at night as the fire blazed. Coffee and cognacs in front of that fire with the girl of my dreams was a very pleasant notion. A thought just occurred to me. I usually had Dana on my mind constantly lately but today I�d only thought of her momentarily. What had happened to distract me? Monica turned around from her perusal of the non-fiction book section to see my pensive face. �John, you�re deep in thought. Want to tell me?� Of course I didn�t want to tell her. �Monica, I was just thinking about dinner,� I lied. �How about I cook.� She smiled as she approached me. �You can cook John?� �Why is that so hard to believe? I have my specialities.� She slowly nodded approval. �Okay John, you cook and I�ll look after the table setting.�

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