Part II Lieutenant John McClane's Apartment New York City, New York June 6th, 2002 "Agent Reyes what the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "Oh God…" she moaned. "I'm such a slut…" "What?" "Nothing." Then the two people in the room there felt their throbbing headaches and Monica mumbled, "I have a headache." "You have a hangover, sweetie." He mumbled, staggering into the kitchen where he started to make a pot of coffee. "Now can we please try to remember what happened last night?" Monica's thoughts traveled back about 6 days… --------------- 6 days Earlier John McClane's Apartment New York City, New York May 31st, 2002 John McClane stood in the shower, letting the water stream down his muscular, athletic body. *She's so beautiful* he thought. *Oh God, what am I thinking? I still love Holly!* As he stepped out and dried himself, he realized the facts that he had to face. *I love Holly, but I'm not in love with her any more* he thought. *Monica is different…she's like me.* He wrapped the towel around his waist as he brushed his teeth and shaved for the first time in about three days. As he splashed on after shave, he wondered Monica's feelings about her partner, John Doggett. John McClane was a very intelligent man, he wasn't stupid. He saw the way Agent Doggett looked at Monica Reyes. And he couldn't get the thought out of his head that he saw the Lieutenant kiss the gentle, female agent on the cheek. His cell phone rang suddenly (his apartment's phone line wasn't hooked up) and he caught a glimpse of his bad ass tattoo on his right bicep as he exited the bathroom to answer it. "Hello?" he asked, picking it up. "John?" He choked. "H-Holly?" "Yeah…Hi." "Uh…hi…what do you need?" "Umm…I have a uh…question. It's going to sound incredibly stupid but…just answer it anyway, alright?" John shook himself out of the small trance he was in. It was amazing to hear her voice again, despite the feelings for Monica that were becoming very palpable to this tough looking, but poignant man. He hadn't heard from Holly in so long. She hadn't called him, and he'd been too obstinate to call her. "Okay…ask away." "Have you uh…*been* with anyone?" "What do you mean by 'been'? Like, sex, or a relationship?" "Uh…both." "No…but…" He sighed. He couldn't lie to Holly. Not anymore. Not after all they'd been through. "Holly, I can't lie to you. I've had *feelings* for someone else, but we aren't in a relationship…yet." He could hear his non-wife turn aggravated. "Yet?" "Yes…yet. She's an Agent who I'm working with on this case." "For the FBI?" "No, for the Homeowner's Association," McClane stated, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he pulled on boxers and a pair of cream colored slacks. "Of course the FBI!" "Okay…I was uh…just wondering." "Look, I'm sorry. But I can't…We're too different Holly. And even after all we've been through together, and after all I've been through *without* you, I just can't go to LA. And you…you have a great career there. You can't leave. And I can't leave. My work is here, I'm a New York City Cop, there's too much crime to be fought." "I know…look…I'm just gonna go, okay?" "Okay." "John?" "What?" "Nothing." "Holly?" "What?" "I love you too. But I think…no, I *know* we're not *in* love anymore." "I know. Bye John." She hung up before had the chance to say goodbye. His thoughts traveled to Monica and John and their relationship as he splashed some Aspen on. "Oh well." He said, looking at his reflection. "You're such an ass," he told himself. "You're smart, but you're an ass. You're not a fuck-up, but you wish you were in LA sometimes, and you know it. But you're not. You're too stupid to talk to her. Now…now you have Monica. And despite her feelings for this Doggett, despite his feelings, you're going to get her." ---- John Doggett had never seen his partner this chipper. She was always an excessively cheery person, but as they sat in some cute little café that morning, he had to wonder what had her so...up. She drank coffee and talked about miscellaneous stuff, stuff that didn't matter, but stuff that put a smile on John's face when it came from Monica Reyes' lips. A cell phone rang, and Monica and John instinctively grabbed for theirs. It was Monica's. "Reyes." She answered happily. Her face turned from a girlish, goofy smile, to a pleasure-filled, sexy grin. "Hi Lieutenant." *Oh God.* John sipped his coffee to keep from throwing up. "Really? Okay. We'll be right there." ---- NYC County Medical Examiner's office "There's something I forgot to tell you before." Lieutenant McClane told Monica Reyes. "About the victims?" Monica asked, glancing at John who was sitting in a chair next to the black man, (who was established as Sergeant Michaels) as were Monica and McClane. They were waiting to see the Medical Examiner. "Yeah," McClane said. "They all had sex before they died." "You mean like…raped? But…there were four victims, and one was a guy." Monica said. "Yeah…but isn't it possible it's a group of people?" "True…why didn't you tell me, though? I mean, it's not like this was a minor detail." "I know. I'm sorry…I've had a lot on my mind lately." Monica enthused in closer and put her hand on his. "Like what?" ---- Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent of her. Herbal Essence shampoo and cherry almond lotion. God, it was good to smell a woman again. "My wife called me this morning." He said, keeping his eyes shut. "Oh…" he could sense the disappointment in her voice. He squeezed her hand. "She just wanted to know something." Before McClane could tell the agent what, John announced that the threesome could see the Medical Examiner now. "I'll tell you later." McClane whispered, his lips at her ear then slowly tracing down her jawbone and neck. They never touched. They barely lingered her skin. She leaned into his presence and he did as he'd done times before. He kissed her cheek lightly. ---- John Doggett was obviously awestruck by the Medical Examiner. She was short and spunky and young, with a great smile, which was unusual for this line of work. Usually these people had pasted on smiles, but this girl seemed to enjoy life very much, even though there was the shit out there that depressed most people. She had layered, curled strawberry blond hair and sparkly green eyes. She had black jeans and a white T-shirt that said "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful; hate me because your boyfriend thinks I am" on underneath her lab coat. She was too young for John Doggett, but he found himself wanting her anyway. She obviously found him attractive, too. She found herself checking him out. "I'm Agent Monica Reyes and this is Agent John Doggett. This is Lieutenant McClane and this is Sergeant Michaels, who are in charge of the case," Monica said, motioning to everyone as she spoke. "I'm Dr. Whitney Medina," she said, shaking everyone's hands. "And I must say, I've done autopsies on all of these victims. And I find this case extraordinary. The strength needed to kill a person in the manner that these people have been killed…" she trailed off. She was certainly pleased with this thing. John noticed how close the Lieutenant and Monica Reyes were standing. He listened to Dr. Medina talk, but watched Monica and McClane closely. "So, Dr. Medina, could you tell us exactly what has happened to the victims?" the sergeant asked, noticing how close his Lieutenant and the female agent were standing. "Yes," Dr. Medina said, opening a clip board. "This is my theory on how the person or persons kills their victims. I mean, in the order. I've discovered that first, the person that committed these homicides breaks the person's nose first. The cartilage goes into the victims' brains, and they die an immediate death. But then, using blood from the victims' noses, the person, or persons, draws that little Satan heart there. I thought it would have been drawn with a finger, so we took a test on it. No fingerprints. But they found little hair strands, from a paint brush. The paint brush is a child's, from the tests we took. Most likely found in those little cases of water color paints you buy at a local K-Mart." "Anyway, after the person, or persons, draws the heart, they have…uh… sex, with the victims. Which would make them-" "Necros." The Lieutenant said disgustedly. "Necrophiles," Dr. Medina said. "You're correct, Lieutenant." Monica was obviously disgusted by this. John watched as her fingers linked themselves through Lieutenant McClane's. The sergeant and John glanced at each other. "Anyway, after they do…that…they carve the numbers in the victims' chests. Now, that's just an estimation from authorities and myself. We're probably dealing with a group of necrophiles." "So what's with the numbers, Doctor?" Lieutenant McClane asked. "These are the numbers so far; 6, 50, 1, and 5. If you add those together, Lieutenant," Dr. Medina said, sending vibes to John Doggett that said purely 'I want you'. "What do you get?" The Lieutenant answered immediately. "62." Monica smiled, thinking, *He's so smart.* "How many victims have there been, Lieutenant?" Dr. Medina asked, licking her lips as she looked at John. Her desire for him was obvious, but he made no moves to do anything about it. "Four." "What's 62 + 4, Lieutenant," she asked, looking at John desirably again. Her craving for John was now visible to everyone in the room. "Doctor, this isn't 4th grade math class. Get to the point." "If you add 4 to 62, you get 66. Which is the first two digits of 6 hundred and 66. 666. Do you read the bible, Agent Doggett?" "No," John croaked, feeling himself growing in his pants. Monica stifled a laugh. *What a slut* she thought. "Well, in the bible, 666 is the sign for-" "Satan." Monica said. "XES, in Greek numbers." "Exactly, Agent Reyes." Her smile changed from sexy to bright as she looked at the female agent and the man who stood by her. Their hands were now linked, but neither Monica or the Lieutenant seemed to notice. And if they did, they didn't care. "You think these people are trying to spell out the number of Satan?" the Sergeant asked. "Well, it's one theory. But it could be wrong. Could be right. I mean, think about it…Necrophilia has to be one of the worst sins, along with murder. Murder + Necrophilia=Satan. And, there could be worse things to these that we don't see. Maybe the people that did this are on your records for doing the worst possible things…do you people know what I'm saying?" John Doggett knew, but he was watching the Lieutenant's hand slide behind Monica and stop on her ass. This was certainly an unprincipled way to be acting. As the law filed out of the room, Dr. Medina stood on her tip toes, up to John's ear and whispered, "2 AM. 445 Main Street. Go into the building. Trust me." ---- The Agents, the Sergeant and the Lieutenant ate lunch in the same café the agents had eaten breakfast. The *should have* been talking about the case, but they weren't. They were just allocating an imminent tête-à-tête, and Monica found herself lost in the Lieutenant's conspicuous hazel green eyes. They some how got on the subject of their worst cases ever. "My worst case was playing Simon Says with a psycho asshole who's brother I killed." The Lieutenant said. Monica knew what her worst case was. But she couldn't say it. Not out loud. Not with John right there. How uncouth it would be to say, 'My worst case was working to find out who murdered Agent Doggett's son"! Monica shifted in her seat, looking into those eyes. He drank some coffee and looked at Monica. Monica had no idea how attractive she was to him. He wanted her there and then. God, it'd been so long. So long since he'd been with a woman. So long. He watched as she licked foam from the cappuccino from around her mouth. He longed silently for him to be the one licking that foam off of other places on her body, other than her mouth. ---- 2:00 AM Monica Reyes stirred in her bed. She couldn't sleep. That old feeling was coming back. She knew now what it was. Not a crush, not obsession, but between. Love. She was falling in love with John McClane, and she knew it, even if only two days had passed since she met him. Monica Reyes was not one to hide from feelings, especially if they were her own. Laying there thinking about the Lieutenant made her realize how horny she actually was. She hadn't…*been* with a man in a long, long time. And the last man it was…was…*Brad.* She shuddered in repugnance at the thought of it. All she wanted now was to have meaningless, animal sex. That's why it couldn't be with John. Or the other John. She already knew she had feelings for her way-ward partner, and her feelings toward the Lieutenant were becoming unambiguous to her now. She smiled to herself. John Doggett? Way-ward? John was such a rule follower. He was the total and complete opposite of way-ward. She tugged the cold, cottony white sheets and the aqua green and pink comforter up to her chin, wanting the FBI to spring for better rooms. The darkness of the room was so loudly quiet that she couldn't sleep. And when the knock sounded at the door, she thought *I hope that's a male wanting to have meaningless, animal sex.* She stood up, and walked to the door in her black Ecko sweatshirt. She opened the door and gasped in surprise. "Lieutenant?" ---- 2:00 AM John Doggett stood in front of the unmarked door, that was on the unmarked building, that was behind the Virgin Super Store, and what the girl last night had said. "It's a strip club, you know. And those 13 year old girls go in there and sell their bodies." He paused for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. He took a deep breath and remembered the appearance of Dr. Whitney Medina. Then he turned and pushed, and when he saw what was in there, he quickly slammed the door behind him. He stood surveying the scene around him. The place was lit by pink lights, giving everyone a reddish pink glow. There were women up on a stage in the middle of the room where John Doggett was standing. They were dancing topless, and were about to lose the bottoms of their skimpy outfits. On the floor, people were dancing to the hard rock music, grinding with people they probably didn't even know. Girls that looked way younger than 18 would disappear into another room with older guys, and it made John Doggett cringe. He hated this scene. He heard moans of pleasure and moans of pain from rooms as he stood there stock still, very out of place here. He was in the same brown suit from work, while everyone else was wearing mini skirts and tube tops or no tops at all (the women) or leather pants and baggy tank tops (the men). "John!" He looked around as he heard his name, and almost didn't recognize Whitney Medina. Her strawberry blond hair that had been curled to her shoulders earlier that day was now straight and stringy looking, because it was wet with what John identified as sweat. Her face was heavily made over with blue eye-shadow up past her eyebrows and lots of mascara and eyeliner. Her lips were a cherry red, and instead of jeans, a T-shirt and a lab coat, it was a black mini skirt and a tight, hot pink tank top. On her legs were fishnet stockings and black high heels. She looked, for lack of a better word, evil. But good evil. Sexy evil. "Dr. Medina?" he yelled over the loud beat. "John! Come on!" he followed her through the crowd of dancing people into one of the rooms that the girls were going into. She closed the door and John looked around them. It was sort of hellish. The room was cold and made of metal. There was a mattress in the middle of the floor, with years bodily fluids perceptibly on it. It was positively sickening, those teenage girls having dirty sex with 40 year old men on come-stained sheets. "You didn't bring your badge did you?" Dr. Medina asked. "No, why?" John asked. "Because. I shouldn't be telling you this. I'm risking my life, but these girls need saved." Dr. Medina said. "What the hell is going on? This is illegal, do-" "Call me Whitney, please." "This is illegal, Whitney. Those girls are pre-teens." "I know. Let me tell you something. Sit dow-…um, you can sit on the floor." John sat as Whitney started her story. ---- 1:30 AM John McClane sat on the edge of his bed. He had his boxers on and that was about it. He stood and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair was starting to gray in little barely noticeable places. He needed someone. He knew who that someone was. But he needed Holly more. God he loved her. She was special to him. And he'd only known Monica for two days. But he still felt like he was ready to go propose to her. Well, not propose, but he felt that he honestly loved her. She was special to him, too. Maybe not as much as Holly, but still…. He glanced at his cell phone and the thought passed through his head only a moment before deciding against it. What good would it do to call Holly and say "I'm gonna go ask someone if they want to have sex with me."? He slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt and grabbed the keys. He splashed some more cologne on and paused for a moment, before realizing what he needed to get. He opened the bathroom door and opened the cabinet, feeling around on the top shelf. There. The small box. He pulled it down and looked in it, pulling one of the tiny paper packages out. He checked the expiration date. "One more year to go, boys," he mumbled and tucked the condom in his pocket. Halfway to The Ramada, he started to think. *What if she doesn't want to have sex? What if you're going there for nothing?* It wouldn't be for nothing. He didn't want just sex. He wanted to talk to her. Get to know her better. He didn't know her at all, in fact. Telling the person behind the desk that he wanted to see Monica Reyes in room 114, she let him go. He found the room and took a deep breath. Then he gently knocked on the door. ---- 2:07 AM "I was going through college without very much money," Whitney said, sitting next to John. "My parents didn't support my idea of becoming a medical examiner, so they were of no help. So I tried to get a job. No places that had enough money for me to work with were hiring, so I was at a loss. "Then one day I was in a bar and I met this guy. He was a few years older than me, and he was very attractive. We started talking, and I told him about my little problem. He told me he had the perfect solution to it. He took me to…this place. It's 75 bucks an hour. He wanted me to become one of his whores, but I didn't want to be. So he hired me as a stripper. Once I got through college and got this job, I had more than enough money to continue with this job. I didn't need to become a medical examiner. "But I wanted to. It's my dream. So I told Eddie, that's his name, that I didn't want to work here anymore, but he told me that if I quit, something bad would happen to me. So I got too afraid to leave. But there were others that wanted to leave. Do you want to know their names? One was Christopher Larkin, another was Jill Scott, and another was Tina Reverie. Then there was the latest one, one of his whores, that wanted out. Miss Hilary Sanchez." "Those are all the victims." John said breathlessly. "Exactly," she said. "They got sucked into this underworld of drugs, prostitution and dirty sex. It's terrible. One of those girls out there, Agent Doggett, is 12 years old. She's in one of those rooms, one just like this, doing something nasty, wrong, with an older man. I can't go to the police. It's gone beyond that now. It'd take the FBI. That's why I asked you. You, and that woman, and Lieutenant McClane…I know you three are the ones to stop this." "Why us?" "Well, you, because you're understanding, and you care about these kids, your partner because I can tell she has the training to deal with this shit, and Lieutenant McClane because…well," she snorted. "It's John McClane." "What?" "You know what he's done in his years as a cop…don't you?" "Ummm…" John Doggett was embarrassed. "No." "Check up on him," Whitney said. "You'll see. Anyway…" she sighed. "We need your help. And you have to do it as an underground investigation. Undercover." "That's where Monica comes in." "Exactly. She could come in and say I sent for her…you know what I mean?" "Yes." John said. "Please help me John…I want out. I didn't realize how bad this place was. I need your help." She kissed him on the cheek and tousled his hair. She tore his jacket down over one shoulder and loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt. Then she took out a stick of cherry red lipstick and smeared it on his chest, face, shirt and pants. Then he walked out, looking like she'd had her way with him, and he whispered he'd call her. ---- 2:19 AM She answered the door in that black Ecko sweatshirt, which was baggy, but still exceedingly short on her, revealing her long, tan, athletic legs. "Monica," he said, taking a deep breath. "I mean-Agent Reyes…I…" McClane couldn't seem to spit it out. "Maybe you should come in, Lieutenant." She sounded concerned, as if there was something wrong with him. Maybe there was. He sat on the bed and she said, "Lieutenant? What's the matter?" "I…Monica, I don't…I don't even know why I came here. I just had to see your face again. I think-" Monica leaned in and looked into his eyes. *She's so beautiful,* he thought. *I don't deserve her.* Then her lips gently pressed against his. At first, John wasn't sure and he held back, but then he fell into it, and the kiss turned from a brush against each other's lips to a make out session. Eventually, Monica prodded his mouth open gently with her tongue and explored the rest of his mouth. Each person in that room thought it tasted wonderful. Minty, like toothpaste, as they'd each just barely brushed their teeth to go to bed. There would be no sleep in that hotel room that night, though. ---- 2:30 AM John Doggett sat in the rental car, cell phone in hand. He was completely baffled. What he'd just heard…this thing was terrible! And he still didn't quite get why he, the Lieutenant and Monica were the ones to stop this thing. He dialed the number and listened. "Scully." "Agent Scully, it's me." "Agent Doggett? What's wrong?" "Can you pull up some files for me?" "Uh…sure. On who?" "This Lieutenant I'm working with on this case. John…McClane. Yeah, that's it. Lieutenant John McClane." "Uh…sure. I'll call you as soon as I get them." "Thanks." "Sure." "Bye." He shut off his cell phone and tucked it in his pocket as he started to drive back to the hotel. He was too tired to think about anything else right now. ---- 2:12 AM As Monica lay there, happily in his arms, she felt her sanity oozing away. His lips and tongue were so amazing…the feel of them against her neck and chest… It wasn't long before clothes littered the room's floor. John's fingers were now tracing little circles around her slender, tan stomach. His kisses fluttered down her neck and chest as he fumbled to remove her panties, which were the only thing stopping them from going all the way. She caught site of his tattoo in the midst of fondling and teasing, and felt a sudden rush of pleasure. She never realized tattoos were such a turn-on for her. *John has a tattoo* she thought, then thought again, *Why am I thinking of John right now?* She concentrated on the strong masculine hands touching her, making her ache for his hands all over her body at once. John McClane, too, was very aroused by this woman beneath him, looking up at him with sweet brown eyes, with a look of innocence that was amazingly sexy, and her fingers on his back. "John…" she said breathlessly. "I can't take it anymore. I need you in me." "Are you sure you want this?" he whispered hoarsely as he ran his conversant tongue all over her hard nipples. She arched her back and moaned beneath him, and when he showed no mercy, her pitiful little grunts made him give in. "Go slow, go slow." She whispered as he slid his arms around her and prepared to enter. She felt a sudden rush in her head as his extensive shaft slid easily into her, and he felt the walls of her center close in around him. He started in a smooth pattern, in and out, in and out, slowly, like she'd commanded, but the impact was a phenomenal feeling. Tiny little groans escaped from each person's mouth into the other's ear, and John was now whispering tauntingly, "You like that? Huh? You like that?" His cock lightly flicked past her clit, she could feel it, and she knew he wouldn't let her fly higher until she answered. She couldn't answer. This was so agonizing, yet she didn't want it to end… "Y-y-yes!" That was enough for him. He continued until he came and she screamed one deafening, "OH GOD! JOHN!" in his ear, and then they collapsed beside each other. "That was amazing." She puffed. He held her close, there under the covers, and they dozed away, and the Lieutenant forgot that they didn't bother to use the condom that had been tucked in his jeans pocket. ---- 3:00 AM John Doggett fell into his bed, wondering what he'd find out about John McClane. This could be very interesting. He pulled the sheets and comforter up around him, too fatigued to brush his teeth Tomorrow, after Scully called with the information on the Lieutenant, he'd tell Monica and McClane, and they could decide how to go about the undercover work. He realized that they'd probably include Follmer in on this, which slightly infuriated John, but he knew it came with this job. The job that he lived for. God knows he had nothing else to live for. He wondered if Monica was still awake or not. Maybe it'd be best to tell her tonight. Maybe not. He felt an uncomforted feeling around Monica now, one that he didn't much like, but one that he *knew* what it was. He'd seen the way that the Lieutenant looked at Monica, or worse, how she looked at him. He knew there was *something* going on…but he didn't know quite *what* yet. Sighing, he rolled over and soon drifted off to sleep, too tired to worry about his partner tonight.