Title: Horizon By: Alycia Rated: R, for language, disturbing images, and some...who am I kidding? LOTS of sexuality Summary: I could tell by the look on his face I was teasing him. He didn't know what I was going to do. Neither did I. Would I kiss, or back off now, while I still could? I decided. Spoilers: None that I know of Feedback: aly_spook@hotmail.com Disclaimer: Reyes, Doggett, Mulder, Scully, Skinner and Follmer aren't my characters. The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and those of Fox, and I was not given permission to use the characters, the plot, or The X-Files themselves. ~*Reyes*~ "Aunt Monica," Brittany Ashcroft yelled over the sound of screaming, yelling children. She approached me, her curly blond hair blowing in the slight breeze. She held her hot pink saucer sled in a hot pink-gloved hand, and tucked a curl into her hot pink hat. "Come down with me, Aunt Monica," she said, motioning toward Rawlings Hill. "Britt, you know I can't stand cold weather...the snow's three feet deep! I'll freeze my a-" I stopped talking, seeing Brittany give me one of her infamous looks. This one was known as 'The Look', with those pretty green eyes that you can't resist. "Brittany, come on," I begged. "You have those nice, hot pink snow pants on. I have these j-" 'The Look' remained on her face. "Oh, alright." I sighed, sitting in the saucer. She sat in my lap, very light and dainty for a 10 year old. The weight of the sled and the steep slope of the hill joined forces and made us go zooming down the second she was situated in my lap. She shrieked with delight as we spun down the hill, nearly running into three other children and a tree. The snow, which was about up to Brittany's knees when she stood, gathered in the sled. It was cold against my legs, since I had been completely stupid and wore jeans. We rose about an inch off of the saucer as we went over the drop-off, which was a small drop onto the bottom of the hill. It went right into someone's backyard. All it took was that inch to make the sled fall to the bottom of the hill, causing me and Brittany to fall in the snow, laughing and covered in the powder. I love my niece. I wish I were a parent. *~Doggett~* I turned the windshield wipers on, struggling to see through the heavily falling snow. I wondered if they'd even help. Why the hell is Monica at Rawlings Hill in Boise anyway? I wondered, approaching the huge, steep hill. A part of me, deep down where I didn't know it, or wouldn't admit it, was excited to see Monica. She was on vacation, and had been for a week. On Friday, her vacation would be over. Then after a week and a half, we'd get Christmas and Christmas Eve off. I came bearing important news for her, though, that would probably destroy her vacation. I parked the car, got out, locked it, and looked on the hill. There were tons of people with snowboards and sleds... Monica's sledding? I shrugged and peered through the huge groups of people, hoping that she'd be near the top so I didn't have to walk to the bottom in three feet deep snow. I remembered her black leather Fubu jacket with the white fur lining the hood. It was very tight and made her look incalculably sexy. There! Standing with a little girl dressed completely in hot pink, with her dark hair in a ponytail, with the ear mufflers on. At the bottom of the hill. Great. I started to walk to the hill. Then when I got closer, I saw Monica carrying a hot pink sled. She was laughing. I smiled. Seeing her laugh or smile always made me smile, or depending on how big her smile, even laugh, which I didn't do much anymore. I watched her take the little girl's hand with her right hand and the sled in her left, then start up the hill, talking to the child as they walked. I continued to smile, but shook myself free of it as I walked down the hill to meet her halfway. ~*Reyes*~ I felt that something good was approaching as Brittany and I started walking towards the top of the hill. I looked around to find the source, hoping maybe John was here. Yeah, right. I wish. John was going to come to Boise just to see me. I continued looking anyway, though. I spotted lots of kids Brittany's age, and wondered why she wasn't with them. "Britt, why aren't you playing with your friends? It's a snow day, and you're hanging out with your aunt!" I cried. "You're only here for a few more days, Aunt Monica," she reminded me. "If I see someone incredibly important, I'll go with them, but for now, I'm sticking with you." My niece is the most intelligent 10 year old I know. I smiled and focused on the top of Rawlings Hill. It was so freaking steep. Your legs started aching by the time you reach the top. Then I spotted him. He seemed to stand out in the midst of brightly colored name brand jackets. He looked very professional as always, in a black suit with a red tie. He'd added slightly to the outfit with the black trench coat, though. It seemed to me that he was trying to look like Agent Mulder. I didn't care, though. I almost started running, but I remembered that Brittany was holding my hand and she'd probably fall down the hill if I didn't hold on. So we walked at a steady pace and met him about halfway up the hill. "John," I said, smiling. "What are you doing here?" He had a slight, amused smile on his face. It probably amused him that I was just down rolling around in the snow with a hot pink child. "Hi Monica," he said. "Who's this?" "This is Brittany Ashcroft, my brother in law's daughter," I said. "Brittany, this is John Doggett. She's very pleased to meet you." I teased, as Britt didn't even acknowledge John. She was staring at a group of kids. I nudged her and she looked at me. "Oh, excuse me. I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Doggett. But..." she looked urgently at the group of kids. "Aunt Monica, those are the popular kids. And Richie, you know that guy I was telling you about when we were talking about the guys we liked, well, he's motioning for me to go over to him!" "Go on, Britt," I said, blushing. Britt was really close to me and we'd talked last night about guys we wanted the night before. That's how she knew John was Mr. Doggett. "Remember what we talked about, though." Brittany nodded. "Laugh at everything he says and be cutsie." She ran off to the bunch of kids and I smiled. "Isn't that the cutest thing in the world?" I asked John. *~Doggett~* This was rather amusing, even though my news was grim. "Is that how you seduce guys?" I asked Monica. "Laughing at everything he says and being 'cutsie'?" She sort of blushed, but kept her cool. "I wouldn't give my niece advice that I don't believe works," she said, glancing over at Brittany, who was talking to the blond guy who I assumed was Richie. I shook my head. "Anyway, I have some n-" "How'd you find me, John?" she asked suddenly. "Well, you gave me your brother in law's number in case of an emergency. I came into town to talk to you, and I called him. He said that you and Brittany went to Rawlings Hill. Then he gave me directions and here I am." "What's the emergency?" Monica asked, not moving her eyes from Brittany. We started walking up the hill. When we reached the top, we glanced down at Brittany, who was now in a big black sled with the 'popular people'. I spotted her sitting in front of Richie, who leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek as the group of screaming kids went down the hill. Since I was watching them, I slipped and fell flat on my ass in the cold, deep snow. ~*Reyes*~ I tried not to laugh and humiliate John any more than he already was, but I couldn't help it. I burst out giggling. I held my hand out, though, and he grabbed on. I pulled him up, unaware of my own strength. I pulled too hard and then I went flying backwards in the snow and he landed on top of me, holding him above me with one hand on the ground. We were so close. Closer than I think we've ever been. Not to mention in a sex position. I looked into his eyes for a moment, than closed mine and started laughing uncontrollably. I heard him start laughing as well, something he didn't do often, and when he did, it was like sweet music. This time he stood up and left me lying there in the snow. I looked up at him, smiling. He held out his hand and I grabbed it. He pulled me up, and we came close. Dangerously close. We were almost kissing. He broke the tension by saying, "My hands are freezing. They're covered in snow." As he started to brush the snow off, some irrepressible feeling came over me and I stopped him. I didn't even think. I wasn't thinking. I took one of his hands and held it up, close to my face, and put one of his snow-covered fingers in my mouth. I removed the snow with my tongue and it melted immediately in my mouth *~Doggett~* I was incapable to stop Monica. She was sucking my fingers. I couldn't move. So I did what any other red-blooded guy would do-I let her. It was heating up all of a sudden. I was surprised there was snow to lick off. She dropped my right hand, and, grinning like a Cheshire cat, picked up my other hand. I felt her warm tongue slide up and down each finger, and then when all the snow was gone, she licked snow from her lips. This was driving me crazy-a good kind of crazy. I glanced down at her snow-covered body, wondering for a split second if I should return the favor. Then she started giggling. "Usually guys thank me for that." she said, and I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. So I joked back, "You do that to a lot of guys?" She laughed. Then, looking sort of uncomfortable, she turned and spotted Brittany and her group of sled friends. "Come on, John," she said, picking up the saucer. "Let's go." I turned to go back to my car, thinking we were going to where she was staying to talk about 'the emergency', but she called, "Where are you going?" "My car." She shook her head and motioned for me to go to her with her finger. I caught on. "No," I said. "I'm already wet enough." "We can go back to Richard's to talk about this emergency after, and I need to take a shower. I'm sure Rich wouldn't mind if you took one too." she said. I secretly liked the idea of taking a shower in the same house as Monica-or being in the same house as her when she's taking a shower. But I gave her a hard time about going sledding anyway. She begged me and I gave in. ~*Reyes*~ The saucer was barely big enough for one adult, much less two adults. The only way we fit in was if I sat on his lap and we sat face to face. I smiled as I sat in his lap. We immediately started going down the hill. We were halfway down and I was leaning to the left, to avoid hitting the tree on the right. But something went wrong. Probably that there was too much weight on the sled. So we went right, and were about to hit the tree. John pushed me out of the sled and I wrapped my arms around his neck. We couldn't stop. We were rolling down the hill in thick snow and ice. When we reached the bottom, I realized that I'd stopped breathing and squeezed my eyes shut. I was practically strangling John with my arms. Again we had landed on top of each other. I think God is trying to tell us something. "Aunt Monica!" Brittany's voice cried. I looked up and saw her. Then I looked at John and started laughing. He had this terrible, hard ass expression on his face. That was fun. When we were both standing up, I leaned down and scooped some snow into my hands, rounding it behind my back. John still looked a bit miffed. "Oh lighten up John," I said. "its just snow." Then I moved closer and smashed the snowball in his face. *~Doggett~* I was cold and snow-covered...again. But Monica started laughing and I lightened up...a bit. Then she said, "Lighten up, John." And smashed the snow in my face. Irritated but amused, I brushed snow out of my eyes and grabbed some snow. I chased Monica up the hill. It was really difficult running up the hill, especially with the snow being so deep. But I caught her, tackled her, and gave her a powder donut treatment. I do not know what came over me when I did that. I think it was the first time I let myself express my feelings for Monica, instead of bottling them up. By rolling in the snow with her showed how she brings out my inner child. But we got up and I got back to the real reason I had flown to Boise. "Monica, we need to go back to where you're staying...we need to talk." "Why?" she asked. "Brittany's having fun, I'm having fun..." I was having fun, too. A little too much fun. I didn't want to be attracted to someone that I worked with. "It's very important...it involves your birth parents." ~*Reyes*~ I let this sink in. "M-my birth parents?" "Yes." "D-did you find them?" I whispered. He looked at me, then guiltily down at the snow. "Sort of." "What do you mean by 'sort of', John?" "Let's go to your brother in law's." I managed to pull Brittany away from Richie and we started walking towards our cars. As John followed us home, I thought about what this news could be. Had they found my real parents? Were they dead? Were they living? So many questions.... I glanced in my rearview mirror back at John, who had this grim, sad expression on his face. That couldn't be good. ****At Richard's House**** Brittany offered to make hot cocoa while we took showers. "You need to take a shower," she urged, obviously having an ulterior motive other than us warming up. "You can use Richard's bathroom and I'll go in the small bathroom," I told John, glancing at Brittany, who looked thwarted. "I think that the towels are under the sink. After you're done we can talk." "Thanks." John said, walking into the room I motioned to. "Aw, Aunt Monica! I was trying to get you some action!" "Britt, even if John had gone for taking a shower with me, I wouldn't have gotten any 'action', not with you and your father in the house." She shook her head. "You just stop complaining and make some hot cocoa," I smiled. She was acting how I felt-let down. I wanted desperately to take a shower with John. "And why are you worrying about me? You've got you and Richie to worry about. I saw you two-in the sled." She turned as hot pink as her saucer sled. "Don't tell Daddy!" she blurted. "I promise I won't." I said. "Good." I left her sitting the teapot full of water on the stove and taking the canister of hot chocolate out. Does John even like hot chocolate? I wondered, peeling off my wet clothes once I was in the bathroom. I turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. Then I stepped in, closed the curtain, and let the water stream down my body. I wondered what news John held about my parents. It obviously was important, otherwise, he wouldn't have flown all the way to Boise to tell me. *~Doggett~* I turned the water off, standing in the shower of the empty bathroom with only my thoughts. To tell you the truth, the only reason I was in the shower was because of my thoughts. They jabbed at me. And I needed some time with them before I could talk to Monica about her parents. The water dripped tiny drops of water from the showerhead, a sound that I never really appreciated until then. In a way, it sort of helped me think. I wasn't into taking showers at other people's houses. But I needed that thought time, as I said. I needed it. I stepped out of the shower, closing the blue curtain behind me. I opened the cupboard, looking for those towels Monica said would be there. I pulled out a slightly faded red one. I didn't want to use Richard's best towel. I dried myself off, still thinking about how I should tell her. I wasn't really the 'touchy-feely' type of person. Only on some occasions did I come in physical contact with anyone. To comfort women, I hugged them. Or in Monica's case-I held them. I loved her too much (even though I wouldn't admit it to myself back then) to use the phrase 'hugging'. There's a difference, you know. After I was dressed, I walked into the kitchen to find Monica in a baggy black sweater and jeans at the table with Brittany. Each held a cup of hot chocolate. Brittany offered me some, but I declined. "Uh, Britt..." Monica said. "Why don't you go find Dapples. He's probably freezing out there." Brittany got the message. She pulled on her coat and gloves again, and stepped onto the back porch. "Now what's this news about my parents?" Monica said, looking at me seriously, with her deep Sherry brown eyes, for the first time that day. ~*Reyes*~ I knew that this news would not exactly be pleasant. I wasn't expecting it to be when John sat down at the table that day. But after Brittany went outside to find her dappled brown and white kitten, Dapples, and John looked down at the table with that look, I knew that it would be worse than I expected. "John I-" "A Mr. Bryan and Mrs. Tessa Harper were found dead a few nights ago. It appeared to be a suicide, each had a gun wound in the heart, and Tessa Harper had a note in her hand. The note..." John reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a large, clear plastic bag marked 'Evidence'. There was a piece of paper inside, square with neat, black writing. He laid it in front of me: "To whomever finds this: I, Tessa Harper, have done some things in my life that I was not especially proud of. For instance, the time I got high. Or the time I committed adultery upon my husband. But the thing I've done that is by far the worst, is that I gave up my daughter. I was 18. I was scared. I found out later that a Mexican family adopted her. Took her into loving arms, where she'd grow into a healthy, beautiful young woman. I found out only weeks ago where she was and what they'd named her-Monica Marie Reyes. She apparently became some sort of FBI agent. She had two sisters growing up, both older than she. They both married and one was killed in a tragic car accident. But enough about that. If you are reading this note, then it means that you found my husband, and me with gunshots to our hearts. Find my daughter, I urge you. But please remember-nothing is all that it seems. There are things that go deeper than the surface. Tell that to her. Tell that to Monica, and also tell her I love her. Sincerely, Tessa M. Harper *~Doggett~* The expressions on Monica's face changed as her eyes moved further and further down the note. By the time she shoved it away and looked up at me, she had this look of pure innocence in her eyes. Her eyes were watery, but the tears dare not spill over. The look was enough to make anyone cry. Enough to break anyone's heart. I felt terrible, and also pissed at Skinner, who was the one to assign me to show this note to Reyes. He meant well...he knew that she'd rather hear it from me, an old friend, than some cop working on the case locally. "W-why do you think it was a murder?" she asked obviously trying not to cry. I couldn't look at her. Her face was tearing me apart, leaving me dejected. I looked down at the table. "There," I cleared my throat. "There were other fingerprints on the gun other than your mother's." "Who's?" she asked, her tone shaky. "The results from the lab test aren't back yet." I dared to look up at her, just in time to see a single tear drop slide down her cheek. I reached out and placed my hand on hers, hoping it was of some comfort. ~*Reyes*~ I couldn't stop the tear from falling. And I knew more were coming. John's hand on mine was a comfort. It was warm and strong, not to mention considerably bigger than mine. "W-where were they um...found." I stated more so than asked. "In their split level house in Texas." "Where in the house." "At the bottom of the stairs. A...an employee that Tessa worked with came by to see how she was doing and...found them there." "Has an autopsy been done yet." "I...I think it's being done as we speak." I collapsed. I buried my face in my hands and started bawling. Not crying-bawling. "Why John. This is so unfair! I didn't even know them! They were my parents. Why?" I was going past bawling and on to hysteria. "WHY!?" I suddenly felt arms around me, strong and muscular. I felt safe and I didn't want to go. I didn't want to face the hell that was the cold reality called life. "Monica, I'm sorry. I don't know why this had to happen...sometimes these things just...happen. There's nothing we can do about it. All we can really do is get to the bottom of this...find out what happened." I sniffled and not moving from my warm comfortable place, mumbled, "Is this an x-file?" I felt John hesitate. "Well, yes. I suppose, in a way. We don't have to work on it, though. This is very personal, I'm sure Skinner will understand-" "I want to work on it." This surprised him, for some reason. "Are you sure?" "I want to go to the house. I want to see if I can sense anything." "Alright. Do you want to finish your vacation, though?" "No. I want to leave...tonight. We can go to DC and check out the lab results, and then fly to Texas to see the house the next day." *~Doggett~* I was so different from Monica. If my birth parents were dead, and I never got to see them ever in my whole life, I would just assume stay away from going to Texas. Not only would it be murder on your feelings, it'd be hard to work the case. Just then, Brittany entered the door holding a small, brown and white dappled kitten, which I assumed was Dapples. A man who I assumed was Richard came in after her. Monica wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Then she walked into the kitchen and shooed Brittany away. I heard them mumbling to each other than saw them hug, and then Monica went into her room. I threw my hands over my face. God, this was hard. I didn't like being the one to break her heart. This was too damn difficult. I knew it was more difficult for Monica, though, so I told myself to shut the hell up and stop being an insensitive ass. I was waiting about ten minutes when Brittany whispered, "Her room's down the hall," then ran off running. I stood up and walked down the hall, just outside her room. I leaned against the wall and peered in at her. She was standing in front of the mirror, whining a low, sad whale song. I could hear her audibly, even though she was being very silent. She stopped singing and looked at herself. She moved her hands down and they unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. I looked away. Yikes. I was very tempted to look back in. But something kept saying, 'No, John, you pervert. It's just wrong.' But my conscience didn't matter. I looked back in. She shouldn't be undressing with her door open anyway, should she? When I looked back in, she was unhooking her lacy black bra. I longed to be in that room with her, unhooking her bra for her. And as I watched her drop the garment on the ground and in between the time that it took for her to put a new one on, I found myself thinking thoughts I knew were wrong to be thinking. I looked away as she slipped off her panties. I couldn't watch this. It was wrong. And why was I watching her anyway? She's my freaking partner. I never had feelings for her before, why were they coming on so strongly now? Well, I suppose I had feelings for her before. I knew I did, later. But then, I didn't want to believe I was falling for someone I worked so closely beside. ~*Reyes*~ As I dressed into black dress pants, a white, low-cut blouse, and a black dress jacket, I felt eyes. I glanced cautiously in the mirror, suddenly realizing I'd left the door open. I saw those baby blues all the way from over here. Why the hell was John watching me dress? I reminded myself that I was already dressed and he was probably just peeking in to see if I was okay. I grabbed my suitcase off the bed and walked into the hall brusquely. "Ready?" he asked me. I nodded. ****ON THE PLANE**** I sat with my forehead against the cold window, watching clouds and patches of baby blue sky as the plane moved along. I listened to John, dozing beside me. I memorized his sleeping pattern. Breathe in, breathe out, Breathe in, breathe out, Shift positions. I sighed, feeling my eyes start to shut to the peaceful movements and noises. I slowly drifted away... I was on a cloud. Very fluffy, white clouds all around me. My pants suit disappeared and was replaced by a white halter dress. Suddenly, I felt strong arms around me, and I turned to see John. His lips were getting closer... "We're now arriving at Ronald Reagan National Airport," a deep voice boomed. "Please buckle your seatbelts for the landing." *~Doggett~* We drove to the J. Edgar Hoover building to check the results of the lab test on the finger prints. A doctor by the name of James Prescott had run it for me. "Agent Doggett," he mumbled, flipping through some papers. "The fingerprints seem to belong to a man by the name of Alan Merchant." I sensed Monica stiffen beside me. "However-this, this Mr. Merchant has been in San Francisco county Mental Hospital since he tried to rape and murder his daughter," Dr. Prescott continued. Monica's face remained calm, although I could tell she was starting to freak out. "San Francisco?" she repeated. Dr. Prescott nodded grimly. "And he's never escaped from this hospital?" I asked, noticing Monica's breathing speeding up. "No sir," Dr. Prescott assured me. "So how did he get his fingerprints on the gun?" I asked, annoyed. "Your guess is as good as mine," Dr. Prescott sighed. "I wish I could help further but...I'm really not ready to go do any work 'in the field'." Monica nodded sympathetically. "Thank you, Dr. Prescott. I greatly appreciate it." We left, not saying a word to each other as we climbed into the car and drove to the County Medical Examiner's Office. ****The Examiner's Office**** The old medical examiner had retired, leaving a young, spunky, just out of college woman whose nametag read "Rosie K. Blanthorn". She started talking to Monica about how her perm was coming our two days after it was done, how George Harrison's death had saddened her deeply. "I appreciate your effort," Monica interrupted when Dr. Blanthorn took a breath. "But could we cut the amenities and see the x-rays?" Dr. Blanthorn smiled and tucked a strand of ear length blond hair behind her ear. Then she took two X-rays out of a file and held them to the light. It was of the neck down to the abdomen of the Harpers'. I glanced at Monica, wondering if she'd be alright. On each, there was the place where the bullet went through. But on one picture, where it said "Harper, Tessa Miranda", the ribs were broken. "What's this?" I asked, running my finger on the broken ribs. "It would appear that when she shot herself, her ribs broke when she fell on the ground," Dr Blanthorn said. "But look at this." She held up the X-rays for the two skulls. One was bashed in terribly in the back, and the other, the nose appeared broken in a manner that the cartilage was shoved into the place where the brain would be. "Both of these show damage to the head that would be fatal," Dr. Blanthorn explained. "It's possible, that the one with the broken nose, Mr. Harper, was caused by falling when he was shot. But he was found by authorities face up. And we all know, Agent Reyes, that the nose cannot physically break from behind." Monica nodded. "But what about the woman, with the crushed skull?" she was staring hard at the photos. "The floor they were shot on was wood," Dr. Blanthorn said. "But...the wood floor couldn't have caused the impact that was put upon this woman's skull. It had to have been a baseball bat, or probably more like a hammer. There's something very strange about this 'suicide', Agent Reyes." ~*Reyes*~ "Do you have any theories?" I asked her. "I have plenty. But I'm just a doctor. My theories don't matter. The question is: do you have any theories?" Dr. Blanthorn said, putting the X-rays back in the file. She ran her fingers through her short blond hair. I nodded. "Yes, I have about half of one. But I can't back it up until we investigate this case further. We need to go to San Francisco, Agent Doggett." "We can catch the nest flight to San Francisco," John said. "After I stop at my house and pack." I nodded weakly. We reached his house and he went into the bedroom. I sat on the couch. I couldn't hold it any longer. The tears came, falling fast. I had my face in my hands, whimpering and shuddering violently. It wasn't long until I felt his hands on my shoulders. And the feelings came all at once. I pulled back and looked at him, into his penetrating blue gaze. He was so good to me. But I knew he'd never share my feelings. Although I knew this, the urge to kiss him was too powerful. I was fighting it, but I was not winning. The urge completely overpowered me and I moved in close. I now had the urge to back off. But I fought this urge off easily. I could tell by the look on his face I was teasing him. He didn't know what I was going to do. Neither did I. Would I kiss, or back off now, while I still could? I decided. Then softly, tenderly, my lips closed in on his. At first he didn't respond in any way. He didn't kiss me back. But he certainly wasn't pulling away. I opened my eyes at one point, to see him-closing his eyes. He was sitting there, with his hands to his sides, like I was. I kept my eyes open long enough to see him put his hands on my cheeks. And then I closed my eyes again and he moved deeper into the kiss. He gently prodded my mouth open with his tongue. And before we went any further, before his tongue went totally in my mouth, I pulled away *~Doggett~* Oh dear God, I thought. What'd I do wrong? I screwed up. Sh!t...this was wrong... She stood up and smoothed her outfit down. "Well," she said. "We better get going." She checked her reflection in the mirror hanging in my hall. She fluffed her hair and I stared down at my suit case. What the hell had just happened? She was going to pretend like it never happened, like she hadn't made that move. Like we hadn't just had the most wonderful kiss. Well, that was fine as far as I was concerned. Maybe she wasn't saying anything for the same reason I wasn't saying anything...maybe she felt it. That small, but conspicuous spark. I knew I felt it. I was trying to tell myself I didn't, but it was obvious to me, deep down, that I wanted her. Physically, emotionally, all the way. I picked up my suitcase and we walked out to my car. I wondered when the next flight was. ****In the Flight**** I didn't know what Monica was thinking while we waited for our flight to leave, but I was thinking about what had happened years earlier, just after Luke's death. We were discussing it. I remember I was on the brink of tears. She obviously sensed that, because she'd placed her hand on my arm and let it stay there. She just stared at me, sort of sympathetically. Then she gave me a huge hug, and when she pulled away, we had a moment. That moment lasted for what seemed like less than a moment before we were locked tight at the lips. I couldn't remember who kissed who, or who accepted the kiss, I just remembered the kiss. How she tasted...not of lipstick, but kiwi lip gloss and spearmint toothpaste. We hadn't gotten far into the kiss before I broke it and did exactly what she had done minutes earlier-ignored it. Then, I didn't feel the spark. But this time...definitely, yes a spark. I told myself it was nothing, just a little bit of electric shock. Then I rolled my eyes at myself An electric shock, John? Damn you're lame. Just admit it. You want her. You felt it. She felt it too. You're both ignoring it. ~*Reyes*~ "Flight 101 leaving to San Francisco is leaving in ten minutes. All passengers please board the plane." someone's voice said. I looked at John. He was staring at something. I glanced in the general direction he was looking, and saw nothing. He must be deep in thought. "John, we better go. It's leaving in ten minutes." He shook himself free of what I assumed was some sort of trance and picked up his luggage. We dropped it on the baggage thing and showed our passports to the woman who waved us through, onto the plane. We sat in our seats, and I looked out the window, thinking about that kiss. Just wipe it from your mind, I told myself. "Wipe it from your mind." I flipped absentmindedly through some magazine, but it got to me and I wanted to throw something. Instead I did how I was taught, took in deep breaths. Counted to ten. I didn't even know what this anger was over. I suppose I was angry at myself for causing such a sexual tension between us. It was all myself. I screwed it up. I'd watched Mulder and Scully though...their sexual tension was probably more than John and mine would ever, ever be. They seemed to turn out okay in the end, right? ****San Francisco**** By the time we reached California, it was dark, we were tired, jet lagged, and lacking patience. We went into the Motel 6 and asked for two rooms. The woman behind the desk shook her head, her long blond hair fanning around her shoulders. Her nametag said "Sarah Preston". "We only have one room left." "Are there two beds?" I groaned. She checked in a computer. Biting her lower lip, she shook her head. "No, sorry," she said. "It's a one bed." I glanced at John. I was too tired to go anywhere else. "We'll take it." I said finally. She handed us keys and we walked to the room. *~Doggett~* I watched as Monica removed a quilt from her suit case and pulled a pillow off the one bed. She fell on the floor and said, "You can have the bed." "Are you sure?" "John, I really don't care where I sleep. I'm tired as hell. I just need sleep." "All right. Sleep well." I watched her pull the quilt up to her chin and lay her head on her pillow. "Monica, that doesn't look very comfortable..." "It's fine...just shut up and let me sleep." I smiled slightly. "Goodnight." I walked into the bathroom and pulled off all my clothes but my t-shirt and boxers. When I came out, Monica was completely asleep. She had a peaceful smile on her face as her chest rose up and went down. I smiled and noticed how chilly it was. I turned the heater up a bit and slipped under the sheets. ****The next morning**** I woke laying on my right side, facing the door and window, which was pouring in bright sunlight. I closed my eyes and turned so my back was towards the window. But I felt the presence of someone next to me. I opened my eyes and saw her laying there, the same peaceful smile on her face, snuggled under the covers. It was completely against FBI regulations to be in even the same room, much less the same bed. But I kissed her on the forehead anyway. Little did I know she was awake the whole time. ~*Reyes*~ A kiss on a forehead was nothing. I should of thought nothing of it-and I did think nothing of it. But this was all slowly piecing together...the kiss yesterday, the watching me dress...hmm. Maybe it was a conspiracy. ****San Francisco County Mental Hospital**** Dr. Jenny Medina tucked her hands into the pockets of her white coat. She blew a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. She seemed frustrated. Dr. Prescott hadn't told anyone about the fingerprints. He swore it, no one besides us...and Dr. Medina had been getting calls all week, since she was the person who treated Mr. Merchant. "Agent Reyes, Agent Doggett," she said. "I can't answer any of your questions. I don't know how Mr. Merchant's finger prints got on that gun." "We were wondering if we could just speak to Alan Merchant," John said, glancing around him. I could only imagine what he was thinking...he was probably remembering that hellish time at Chessman, when all the daemonic killings were going on. Dr. Medina led us over to the man's room-which, really, to me, seemed more like a cell. It didn't have the cold, metal feel of a cell to it. It was a Pillow Room, which was the worst cell, in my eyes. A guard let us in, looking at us as though we were crazy. Alan Merchant wasn't doing anything. He was sitting there, which, I guess is all you can do in a pillow room. "Hello Mr. Merchant," I said, sort of nervously. "I'm Agent Reyes, and this is my partner, Agent Doggett." He sort of acknowledged us with a nod. "Do you know Tessa and Bryan Harper?" John asked, and I could see him straining to see his face Mr. Merchant shook his head slightly. "Did you know that your fingerprints were found on the gun at the scene of their deaths?" He nodded. I glanced at John. His blue eyes were focusing on Alan, nothing else. I licked my lips, realizing I hadn't put on any lip gloss this morning. "We may not have any hard evidence, Mr. Merchant," I said. "But you're still a prime suspect." *~Doggett~* Mr. Merchant chose to speak at that moment. His voice was low, raspy. Eerie. "Agent Reyes, I believe the Harper case was a suicide." "Did you know, Mr. Merchant," Monica was struggling to keep her cool, and I could see it. "That there was fatal damage to the Harpers' heads that couldn't have been cause by hitting the floor? Did you know that? Did you know what happened to them?" "Yes, I've heard things," he said calmly. "I know." "So how did your fingerprints get on that gun, Mr. Merchant?" I interrupted. "Do you know about sleepwalking, Agent Reyes?" he asked. His voice was starting to freak me out. "Yes," she said. "But that's beside the point-" "There have been some cases, where people wake up the next morning on the other side of the United States, you know that?" "Y-yes." "Are you saying you could have sleepwalked to Texas, Mr. Merchant?" I asked. This was ridiculous. "I'm not saying that at all, Agent Doggett," he said. "I was just making sure Agent Reyes knew what people could do-what they are capable of, even in their sleep." I sensed Monica stiffen. She took in a deep breath. "Mr. Merchant," she said. "Did you kill my pa-Mr. and Mrs. Harper?" "They're your parents?" "That's also beside the point. Now I'm asking you a goddamn question. Did you kill them?" "I'm not saying I did, and I'm not saying I didn't." "God damn you! Tell me the f*cking truth!" I'd never seen her like this. She was all riled up, and judging by the look in her eyes, she was ready to kill this guy, whether he was guilty or not. He seemed to be really getting to her. "I'm not saying I did." Monica clenched her fists and started to walk towards the ass hole. I grabbed her by the wrist. "Monica, come on. He isn't worth it." I whispered, pulling her close enough to hear. I saw the tears starting to gather in her eyes. "No need to cry, Agent Reyes," Mr. Merchant said calmly, his back still to us. "It'll all be okay soon. Soon." She threw open the door and ran out. I followed her. I saw her figure storming down the hall and out the doors. I chased her all the way to the car and found her leaning against it, her face in her hands. I put my hands on her wrists and she pulled away. I'd never known her to do that. "I didn't even know them, John. Why am I crying over it? Why?" she sobbed in a choked whisper. "Maybe that's why you're crying over it," I said, wishing I could hold her. "Because you didn't know them." She burst out a loud, pitiful break-your-heart-sob and I wrapped my arms around her. She didn't object. "I got bad feelings about him," she whispered. "I know." "I felt it...the evil..." "I know. I've never heard you yell like that." She sort of sighed and giggled lightly at the same time. "I know. But he was pissing me off. This is all I care about...I need to know what happened. Th-" She stopped talking abruptly and pulled away from her spot buried in my chest. "What?" I asked. "This isn't much on who killed them," she said. "But...what if...well, you know about the damage to each of their heads?" "Yeah..." "What...what if they were dead before they were shot?" ~*Reyes*~ It was an odd thought, but it helped...in a way. In college I read a book by Christopher Pike. I don't remember the exact name, but it was a murder mystery, about a guy who filmed the cheerleaders in the girls locker room, and caught a murder on tape. But that girl was in a 'car accident', later that night. It reminded me of that. She was dead before she was in the so-called car accident. Someone had murdered her and pushed the girl's car off the cliff to cover her ass. John seemed to be considering this. "So..." John said slowly. "If...*IF* they were dead before they were shot, then...someone had to have known about that suicide note...they couldn't have faked it. It was Tessa Harper's handwriting...that was analyzed. But...that person that murdered them, crushed their skulls or broke their nose in that way, then took Tessa's hand and put the gun in it..." I nodded excitedly. It was sort of making sense. "But who..." I said thoughtfully. "We don't have much on this Merchant guy, besides the fact that his fingerprints were on the gun..." I licked my lips again. Checking my watch, I sighed. "John, I'm worn out. Can we go get something to eat or go back to the motel or *something*? I want to solve this case, but I'm so tired..." "Monica, you can sleep and eat on the plane. We're going to Texas." *~Doggett~* "What?" Monica asked. "We need to go to Texas...look closer at that house." "John, it was just a hunch...I mean, it could be wrong, you know." "But...we...Monica, I want to solve this case...for you. Give you a little justice. You deserve to know what happened to them. They're your parents." I said without thinking how obtuse I probably sounded. Her smile broke through all the previous fallen tears and I saw that she'd melted. "All right. I appreciate this greatly, John. You have no idea..." I smiled and walked around to the driver's side. ****ON THE PLANE**** I watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall. Her lips were slightly curved upwards, her eyes closed peacefully. It was peaceful enough to make me fall asleep, watching her. She seemed to be shivering, and I wondered why they kept these planes so damn cold. I took off my jacket and covered her with it, watching her snuggle under it. I decided I better get some shut-eye before we arrived in Austin. We had some work cut out for us. ~*Reyes*~ My peaceful slumber broke when John told me I better put my seatbelt on. I woke slowly and sleepily buckled it. Once we retrieved our luggage, John and I got a sporty black rental car and drove to the house. It was a brown split level, with trees surrounding it and small evergreen shrubs by the front door. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the hell I'd probably face when I stepped through the door. John brushed past me, onto the front steps. He placed his hand on the doorknob and glanced back at me with a look that plainly said, "You gonna be okay?" I nodded as if to answer him and he turned and pushed on the door knob. He held it open for me, and, licking my lips, I stepped in. *~Doggett~* I don't now what Monica was expecting to see, hear, smell...because the look on her face when she glanced around her parents' old house was a disappointed look. I hurried her up the stairs, wondering whether or not I should mention that we'd been standing where the bodies had been found. I watched her look around the living room, where we were now standing. She walked to the fireplace and carefully removed a picture from the mantle. I watched her run her fingers around the brown, flower decor frame. She moved them onto the picture. "Is this them? My parents?" she asked in a choked, almost sobbing voice. I walked over to her and placed my hand on her shoulders. "Yes," I whispered. "My mother...that's her, right there with the dark hair and the blue vest? With the dark eyes?" she whispered. "Yes." "She's beautiful." "You look just like her." The sexual tension hung in the air for a moment, lingering around like the overpowering smell of too many wild flowers. She turned to face me and I thought she'd actually kiss me again. But instead, her arms wrapped around me. I quietly inhaled the scent of her hair. Thermo silk, heat activated. It smelled wonderful. ~*Reyes*~ I knew he was trying to be unnoticeable, so I didn't mention it when I felt him inhale the scent of my hair. I pulled away, reluctantly ending the hug and said, "Show me where they were found." He led me to the spot, at the foot of the stairs. "Exactly, where were the bodies?" I asked. "Monica, y-" "John, please tell me." I whispered. He put one hand on the hard wood floor. "You're mother was here." I knelt at the spot. "You're father was here." he put his other hand on a spot about a foot away from the other. I placed my hand over his, on the spot where my mother was. Closing my eyes, I felt it. Evil. Bad. Sin. "Monica," John said. I heard him, but I was being pulled into some sort of trance. My brain wanted to acknowledge John, but my body did not move. "MONICA?" I started to see it. Two bodies falling to the hard wood floor. I tried to look closer, to see my parents when they breathed their last breath. But it wasn't my parents. It was two people I was very familiar with-a woman and a man, one with a slit throat and the other with a broken neck. The woman was me, and the man was John. *~Doggett~* I was sort of afraid for Monica. She was down on her knees, with her eyes closed, and all these expressions were passing her face until she finally fell backwards and looked like she was having a heart attack. "Monica!" I yelled. She had her mouth open, as though she wanted to scream. A noise came out of her. She stopped shaking. "John," she said meekly. "I...I had a vision." I knelt beside her. This couldn't be good. Every vision she had before hadn't shaken her up at all. This one must've scared her. "You have a fever," I said, feeling her forehead and cheeks. "We ought to go check into a motel." I pulled her up and guided her to the car. She seemed...not there. Distant. Dissipated. "Are you okay?" I asked, glancing over her. Her eyes were dilated and she was hyperventilating. "I'm fine," she stated indignantly. "I just....just had a vision..." "Yeah, I know...it shook you up so much, though. What was it?" It was probably not any of my concern, but she was starting to worry me. She looked ready to pass out. "It was my parents, my real parents, falling to the wood floor. But they weren't my parents. They were...they were you and me." I wondered why this shook her up. But I guess that it could have been more frightening than she made it sound. "Monica..." We stopped at a Motel 6 and I guided her out, into the front office, where we found that two rooms were available...but they weren't side-by-side. We took them, and I helped Monica to hers before going to my own. She was walking fine, but the way she was breathing... In her room, she laid on the bed and closed her eyes. "Monica, are you sure you're okay...I mean, you just don't look well..." "I'm fine, John. I need to rest." "Can I get you anything?" "No...wait, yes. Could you hand me my walkman?" "Of course." Reaching into her bag, I moved my hand around for the walkman. I something hard and pulled it out...her walkman wrapped in pink silk panties. I shoved them back in quickly and handed her the walkman. "Thank you, John." she smiled, drifting to sleep. "You're welcome." I whispered, closing and locking the door behind me. I walked to my room, about three doors down. ~*Reyes*~ I opened my eyes to find myself in a motel room, on a lumpy bed in the dark. My head throbbed and the tape was hissing in my ears. My whale songs had ended. I remembered what had happened, and I rolled over and looked at the clock. 2:05 AM. Sighing, I stood up and immediately regretted it-because of the hellish head rush I got. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and remembered John-how good he had been to me. I was no longer tired. The wheels in my head were turning. I was about to do something drastic. Glancing at my outfit, I opened the door and tried to remember which room was his. He was three doors down from me, I remembered. On the left or the right? I counted one, two, three, and knocked on the door. I heard a loud, sleepy voice. "Yeah? Who's there?" John's voice. "John, it's Monica." He opened the door in two seconds flat, looking sleep tousled. "Is something wrong? Are you sick?" I choked. I'd had the words all played out in my mind, ready to say them. But I didn't. I couldn't. I started to feel very sick. "Y-yes." I said. "Come in." I stepped into his room, suddenly very aware of a splitting headache and a pain in my chest. I clutched my chest suddenly. "Monica?" John cried. "Are you okay?" "I..." I breathed. "I think it's an anxiety attack." "Monica," he said, handing me a glass of water. "What are you stressed ab-" He stopped talking, as if he knew the answer to his question already. "This is really getting to you, isn't it? This case?" I nodded miserably. "We can get another agent on this, you can go home." "No." "Monica, please, this is tearing you apart, and I understand that, but if you're working on a case, you have to be focu-" "Is that all you care about, the stupid case?" I cried angrily. I didn't know where that came from. "Monica, no. Please. I care about how you feel, that's why you shou-" "There's more to life than fighting crime, John. This isn't some country couple who were murdered. It's my parents! My birth parents, who I never met. And there's something weird about this case. I want to get to the bottom of it, too. But there are feelings involved and I don't know about you, but I-" "Monica! Calm down! Please!" I took a few deep breaths. "Sorry." I whispered, and stormed out of his room. *~Doggett~* I debated whether or not to go after her. Then I decided not to. I loved her, but everyone needs their space. Plus, she probably needed to go pop a Midol. I mentally kicked myself for thinking so hostile towards her. She lost her parents, her real parents whom she's never met. I had to cut her some slack. Rubbing my eyes, I laid back down, but couldn't sleep. It ate at me. Where was she going? I hoped she wasn't going to do something stupid. The thought passed my mind-for one split second-if she was going to go put a knife to her wrists, or jump off a cliff. But I knew it wasn't like Monica to do something like that. She always told me, while working on suicide cases, that 'Death is not an answer'. I stood up and decided to go see if she was in her room. I slipped on some shoes and walked out. It was chilly out, but not so cold that I couldn't be out in my boxers and a t-shirt. I walked briskly to her door and knocked. "Monica?" I called. "Are you decent?" I stepped in when she didn't answer, and she wasn't there. I checked the bathroom and under the covers. No Monica. I told myself she probably went out to catch a breath of fresh air. As I was pulling her sheets and blankets back up, I noticed something, a small black object. I picked it up. Her walkman. I put the headphones on and pressed play. It needed rewound. I switched sides and pressed play. Then I heard it-a soft, mournful call. Whale songs. It made me smile. I listened carefully to it and laid on her bed. ~*Reyes*~ I knew I shouldn't have been doing what I was doing. But I was doing it. I should have at least notified John. Or taken some form of a weapon. No. I couldn't fear it. It was just an old house. 'Where your parents were murdered a few nights ago' I reminded myself. I stopped the car in front of the house and stepped out. I breathed in the crisp night air...I loved that smell. It smelled like the sky. I was reminded of something... Luke's death had gotten to me. Eaten at my heart and soul. It made me cry. 'Don't get emotionally involved' I remember telling myself. Involved. Emotionally. I remembered how the words echoed in my head as John and I locked lips in front of the police station in New York after Luke's death. That smell...his manly cologne mixed with that smell of the sky. The words always echoed in my head when I saw him. When I thought about doing things...bad things. Well, not necessarily bad, but I guess...politically incorrect, is that the term? Wrapping my arms around me, I stepped up to the front door and placed a hand on the doorknob. I turned and pushed and stepped in, inhaling the scent of the house. Musty. But good. Good. I explored it on my own this time. I walked into my parents' bedroom and looked around. On the cherry oak dresser, I saw a small leather book. In gold letters, it said "Journal", swirled, pretty letters. I gasped. It wasn't from surprise. Mostly happiness. I could look in this...I could see my mother's life. A pain in my heart hit me. Oh God, why did this have to be so damn painful? And what the hell is with those people trying to comfort you? "They're at rest now," "They're in a better place," "Some things are just meant to happen." Why couldn't anyone just say the truth? Death sucks, and it always has. Always will. I tucked the journal in my inner jacket pocket and stepped out into the living room where I took the picture from the frame and put it with the journal. I stepped lightly down the stairs, and felt an arm go around my waist and a hand go over my mouth. Then I felt the switch blade being held to my neck. *~Doggett~* Always, since that night in front of the police department, I'd forgotten something. Something about it, that I felt was imperative to remember. Sometimes, it came to me in dreams. I knew it. But I never remembered it. This time...I did. Something about the way she felt, or smelled, or looked, or tasted. I remembered it that night, curled in her bed, whale songs in my head. It was the way she felt. I remembered it. We just came together in a kiss, a strong, passionate kiss. But none of that tongue stuff. Wet, sloppy, but no tongue. Wet and sloppy was good. And while she did it, my hands traveled from my sides to her breasts. I remembered resting my hands there, for some reason, and moving my hands over to unbutton her blouse. I woke up in a cold sweat, drowsy and wondering. So many questions welled up in my head. Where was Monica? If she hadn't pulled away from that kiss, would we have gone further? Second base? Third? Home run? I disgustedly shook my head. I couldn't think about Monica as some sex toy. I cared about her way too much. I remembered her deep sherry brown eyes boring into me and I shivered. She made me hurt so good. Oh swell. I'm using lines from Melencamp songs. I wrapped the blankets tighter around me, smelling that smell that was just...Monica. She has her own damn smell. I tried to sleep. But I remembered some more. What I thought that night. 'You don't. You can't. You won't be happy, not when Luke is gone...' I then remembered what she once said to me, about Mulder and Scully. They fell for each other, and Scully was heartbroken when Mulder disappeared. They got "Emotionally involved." Involved. Emotionally. Such strong words. But descriptive. ~*Reyes*~ "Hey Agent Reyes, weren't expecting me." I recognized the cold, hard, yet calm and raspy tone of Merchant's voice. He moved his hand so I could answer. "No Allan, I wasn't." I was reminded of Lukesh. That hellish case. I felt his tongue, slippery and disgusting, like a snakes, slip up my neck and my cheek. He turned my head closer toward him, so I was facing his face, which the moon shone in on, giving him the perfect effect to terrify me even more. 'He's going to rape me,' I thought as his tongue slid, snake-like all over my face and neck. It was so disgusting. "You're partner, where is he? Is he here to rescue you?" His tongue moved inches in front of my face in a disgusting motion that made me cringe. "Answer me, Agent Reyes." "No." I said, feeling the hot tears stinging my eyes. "Good. I see the way he looks at you. He thinks about it, Agent Reyes." "He thinks about what, Allan?" "F*cking you." "You're a disgusting pig." "You think about it too, you know. F*cking him. Who do you think your fooling, you little skank?" "F*ck you, you little prick. Murderer." "Thanks." he whispered, his tongue sliding down my shoulder. His hand ran up from my waist and tore off my blouse. He removed my bra. I felt the tears coming. I choked them back. I couldn't give him this satisfaction. He turned me roughly to face him. He licked his lips, *trying* to be seductive. "Well, that little ass hole, your partner. He isn't here. He can't save you." He touched me. That did it. I checked where the switch blade was. No longer against me. By his side. "Go f*ck yourself, Merchant!" the tears came and I was screaming. "He's gonna come cut your little 2 inch dick off! Get your hands off me!" I kicked the hand that held the switchblade and kneed him where it hurt. Then I grabbed him in a death-lock. If he moved his arm would break. "Agent Reyes, don't use that mouth. It's not very lady like." I was getting pissed. It was so not like me to talk like this, but this guy.... "F*ck you. You move, you little dick head, your arm breaks." "Agent Reyes, that's no way to talk to a man as dangerous as me." "You're not dangerous. You're a f*cking coward. You raped my mom, didn't you? My dad caught you, you killed them both. You f*ck head. Did you do that to your little girl before you hacked her too? It's perverts like you that makes a woman afraid to go out alone at night." He caught me by surprise. He turned sharply, releasing his arm with a loud crunch. With the other arm, he grabbed my wrist and started twisting it. He bruised my lips with his tongue and teeth. He turned me so that my back was to him. Remembering my self defense class, I hit all the right spots. Instep, stomach, nose, groin. Then I started running. By now, the rain was falling and mud was all over. It splashed on me, making me dirtier than I already felt. My blouse was unbuttoned, and the little ass hole took my bra. I buttoned it up as quickly as possible. I didn't jump in the car. I just ran. All the way to the motel. *~Doggett~* The serenity of my dream made me wake four more times. Each time, Monica was not back. By the fourth time, I started to worry. I sat up and stumbled into the bathroom. I got a drink of water and looked at myself in the mirror. That-staring at my disheveled reflection, looking at me, it hit me. "You love her you dumb ass," I said to my reflection. "You love her and you have to admit it. You have to admit it to her. To yourself." I rubbed my eyes again and swept a hand through my messy hair. I thought about going back to my room, but her bed looked too welcoming. The smell of her was luring me closer and closer to the bed. I finally fell into it, sheets and blankets and the feeling of Monica drowned me. When I couldn't sleep anymore, I clicked on the TV. Late night TV...nothing but Infomercials. I watched one about a pill you could take to lower your metabolism, and one about something called the "Ab Energizer" before slipping away into slumber. I was awoken by a sound outside. I glanced at the clock. It was 4:00 AM. Monica's door opened and I heard quiet whimpering. I heard a sniffle. I heard a few swear words..."Damn this mud...damn the rain...all to hell!" Then I heard more whimpering and the bathroom door open and close. Monica's shoes-caked with mud-sat in front of the door, and a trail of muddy, wet clothes were leading to the bathroom. It didn't occur to me why she was crying, or where she had been. All I knew now...was what I had to do. ~*Reyes*~ Upon reaching my motel room, I leaned against the wall outside, rubbing my face. I was tired. Achy. And there was one spot on my side that especially hurt. I took in a breath of rainy air and walked into the room, trying not to cry. I opened the bathroom door and went in after leaving a trail of wet, muddy clothes behind me. I turned on the water as hot as it would go. Then, stepping in, the water that streamed down my body was murky brown, dirty, like I felt. I stared at the white shower floor. That was when I saw the red liquid streaming down the drain. I tried to find where I was cut. I found the cut. Visible, but small, on my side. Blood dripped from it. 'The switch blade.' I thought. I cleaned the cut and washed my face. No matter what I did, I still felt dirty. I shut the water off, being as clean as I was going to get, and fell on the floor in front of the toilet. I threw up. I slumped back after I was done and wondered if I was getting sick or if I was depressed. Judging by the recent crap in my life, I'd assume the latter. I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. Then I tugged a robe on. 'Swell' I muttered. It was tight against me, and extremely short. I sighed and stepped out of the bathroom, turning the fan on. Then someone's arms, strong, manly arms, wrapped around my waist and pulled me to him. I thought it was Merchant again, but these arms...they felt good. Was it...John? *~Doggett~* The moment she stepped out of the bathroom, I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me, spinning her so she was face to face with me. We were dangerously close yet again, and the peacefulness in her eyes was simply beautiful. "John, what are you doing?" she asked finally. "You scared the-" I put a finger on her soft lips, hushing her. She looked terrified but thrilled at the same time. She didn't make a sound as I leaned in closer, opening my mouth and moving my finger from hers. She slipped her mouth open too, and our lips came together, this time in a way that I knew we were meant to be. This was meant to be. I slipped my tongue in and stroked hers with mine. At first, after that very apprehensive kiss, we fell into it. Her hands rose up to my head and she ran her fingers through my hair, gently at first, then harder and harder the deeper we got into the kiss. It felt so marvelous to have a woman's finger's through my hair again. I cupped her face in my hands and pulled away, looking into her eyes. She looked so innocent, so beautiful. "Monica, no matter what I feel. No matter what you feel. No matter what we did...this is wrong." "I don't care." she whispered. Her mouth trailed down my neck and I felt her dexterously fingering my chest, and her hands moving lower, and lower, and lower.... Her touch against me made me jump slightly, and I sensed her smile as she continued kissing my neck. Her hands trailed gently back up, under my shirt. She lifted my shirt off of me and began carefully kissing my chest and abs. I pulled her up so I could look in her eyes again, and I kissed her mouth softly as I led her over to the bed. I didn't lay her on it yet, though. Instead, I moved my hands from my sides up her soft legs, up her thighs, and on the soft terrycloth robe, on her breasts. Then I moved my hands back down and I promptly, proficiently untied the white terrycloth rope keeping the robe closed. I took it off and kept kissing her as I rested my hands on her shoulders. Then I slipped the robe off and dropped it on the gray-blue carpet. I pulled away from her mouth and looked at her standing there, her naked body bathed in moonlight. We were standing right in front of the open window. The neighbors were probably getting quite a show. She moved in close to me and slipped her fingers under the waste-band of my boxers. She gently slipped them off and brushed her lips against mine. Then I wrapped my arms around her, and her hair was wet and warm against my bare skin. She felt so warm and soft...it was perfect. I doubted any other woman would feel how her body felt against mine. ~*Reyes*~ I was energetically charged. The second that John's naked body was against mine, I was ready for anything. We fell on the bed in a heap of sweat, kisses, and years of sexual tension disappearing. I forgot what Merchant had done to me earlier, and the pain in my side departed instantaneously...his arms were around me and that was all that mattered. His tongue explored my mouth and explored the rest of my body, making me let out small groans. John was giving me a pleasure that I'd never experienced with another man. When his tongue found its way back up to my mouth, I whispered, "John, please. Don't tease me. I need you...in..." I need not say more. He obeyed me. It appeared he was as ready as I was. He thrust, and with that one motion, we became one. One person-yearning for the love, warmth and protection of a true love. I opened my eyes. My hair rested on his shoulder, my head resting lightly on his masculine chest. My arm was on his tight, muscular abs, and the sun was barely starting to rise. I saw this through the open window. 'The neighbors probably got quite a show last night,' I thought. First of all, the window was open. Second, we must have been screaming as loud as is humanly possible. That was the best sex I'd ever had. All early morning it had been, "John! Oh...yes! John! There!" or "Oh...Monica. Oh! Oh! MONICA!!!" I felt John slowly rousing beneath me. I kissed his neck softly, waking him the rest of the way. He smiled at me. "That...that...Monica, you're an amazing lover." that didn't seem like the kind of thing John Doggett would say. So I took it as a compliment. "Thanks. You are too. John, that was wonderful." I sighed happily, remembering the night. The screams. The pleasure. How he felt inside of me. I loved him so. I glanced out the window again. The sun was peeking above the horizon. It looked like something from a storybook. It bathed us in a small pool of dark orange light. We lay in our pool of horizon, melted into each other forever. We each now had a piece of each other-a piece of each other that went deeper than sex. Deeper than the love that was already deep. We now shared the melted horizon. I closed my eyes briefly, remembering... It was my Senior year in high school. My friend, Josephina Chavez and I stood in front of a mirror, examining our long, flowing prom gowns. We'd told our parents that we'd be spending the night at the other's house. I didn't know why, but then, in front of the mirror, Josephina told me. She was doing my hair, which was difficult for her since she was so short. That was one think that always sucked about being raised in Mexico. I was tall and peach skinned, and, what I considered to be a flat chest. But all my friends were short and dark skinned with big boobs. "Jo," I said calling her by nickname as I smoothed my shiny blue dress. "Why are we lying to our parents?" "Didn't Jose tell you about the motel room?" Ah. Jose. My horn-dog prom date. Also shorter than me. "No, he didn't." I said, a bit peeved. "Oh...well, tonight's the night, Monica. We're going to lose it." "Lose what?" "You know...our virginity..." "Oh...Jo, I don't know..." "Listen, Mon, about the Horizon. My Tio Dolores told me about the Horizon once. If you wake up after a night of passion, and the horizon has melted on you and your lover, that means he's your true love." I slept with Jose, much against my will. And I remembered waking in the morning, looking all around me, finding that the Horizon had not melted upon us. I opened my eyes. A sudden pain in my side hit me. I looked down, and saw John's hand there, over the cut. He was rubbing it gently. "Mon...what..." I was going to have to tell him what happened. *~Doggett~* After she woke me, she looked out the window and all around us. Then she closed her eyes. I watched her lay there-in a state, I decided, was somewhere in between siesta and consciousness. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. I sighed. That was the best damn sex I'd ever had. Ever. Period. We were not just making love, or having sex...if I weren't a gentleman, I'd say we were f*cking. Monica was it for me. Mentally, physically, sexually...I didn't know what I was going to do. This was so wrong...why did it feel so right? Her right leg was swung over my legs under the sheets. I reached under and ran my hand up her leg, up her side. She suddenly cringed and looked down where I was massaging, a spot on her right side. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." I said, pulling my hand away. "Mon, what...what happened?" "Last night..." she gulped, burying herself deeper into my chest. "I went back to my parents house. And...Merchant was there. He had a switch blade...he tried to rape me, John." "Tried?" "Didn't succeed. I kicked the crap out of him. But he did touch me...and offend me verbally. B*stard still has my bra...I thought I got away clean. But apparently..." She glanced helplessly down at the cut. "Mon..." I hugged her. "I am so sorry. I should have gone after you." "It's okay, John." "No it's not. Whatever ass hole has the nerve to overpower a woman to have sex with her deserves two broken legs and to get his dick cut off. But the ass hole that has the nerve to try to take advantage of you, Monica...I'll kill the little f*cker." "John, really...he's not worth it-" "Monica, how can you be saying that? He tried...did he...where did he...where did he put his hand?" "Nowhere but my breasts, John. Okay? If you're finished playing father, we can get back to what's important." "Sorry," I said. "I really am. But that guy..." "I know what you mean," she said. "But we can't give him the satisfaction of getting to us. That's what he wants." "I know..." "John," she whispered suddenly, wrapping her body around mine. "Look out the window." "Yeah. That horizon is beautiful in Texas." "John...have you heard the story about the melted horizon?" "No..." "It says, that when you wake up after a night of passion, and you're laying by your lover, if the horizon has melted upon you, making you dark orange and yellow, warm colors, than it means you're truly in love with each other." I looked on our bodies...dark orange. Yellow. Warm colors. "I love you, Monica." ~*Reyes*~ The words were there. I knew I had to say it. But I choked on the words for one reason-this was wrong. No matter what we did, it was wrong. "I love you too, John..." I said. "But we...this is wrong, as you said. If Skinner ever found out, and Brad..." I trailed off. His hand settled on my cheek. "I know." he said, almost inaudibly. "It's going to be so hard to just pretend like this never happened, though." I said. "John...that was..." "Life altering sex?" he supplied. I laughed. "That too. But what I was going to say was...well, it was expressing love. You can't forget love. That's all I've ever known to be truly impossible to forget." He started kissing me again. "I hate it when you do that." I whispered as he pulled away. "I rather enjoy it." I laughed. "That's not what I meant. I meant...you just...when you kiss me, I enjoy it so much, that I want to have more of it. I really do. But I know...John, I know...this can't happen. Brad...and Skinner...." His hand moved all over my body, caressing me softly. 'Oh God...he's driving me insane. I want to...' "John..." I said breathlessly as he continued touching me. "John...we...ohhh..." I put my hands on his shoulders and moaned softly in his ear as he teased me in the most intimate ways. His adept, strong, experienced hands worked me all the way into a sweat, and a state of pure ecstasy. My pleasure caught up with me, and John felt it. He removed his hands and watched me lay there, breathing heavily, getting over the thrill he'd just given to me. I wanted to cry. John gave me pleasure-inside and out. And I knew I couldn't have him, no matter how quickly he gave me orgasms. "John," I said, catching my breath. "You have to...we can't." "Monica...I know. I'm going to go take a shower. And I think...I think I have the solution to the case." "John," I said, watching him stand and get dressed. "What about..." "Let's pretend like it never happened the best we can, alright?" ~*~*~EPILOGUE~*~*~ John and I flew to San Francisco the minute we got our rental car back and returned it. At the Mental Hospital where Merchant was living, we discovered Merchant had been discovered dead in Austin from internal bleeding. I'd hit him pretty bad in two places-the groin and the stomach. We explored Merchant's room and discovered a manilla envelope containing an empty shaving cream can, two newspaper clippings, and a picture of my real mother. By reading my mother's journal, I discovered that my father might not be my real father. Merchant, very well could have helped to create me. My mother had been having an affair with him. No one knew how Alan Merchant ended up in Austin Texas and returned to San Francisco in one night. But now we know how he escaped. He sprayed Shaving Cream on the lenses of the security cameras. Security at the hospital admitted to knowing this and telling the hospital's owner, but the owner didn't mention this to the FBI. The hospital is being sued for withholding evidence. And as far as me and John, well, things will never be the same. I don't know how I can look in his eyes every day after seeing him naked. After him seeing me naked. After making love to him. But I do. And now we smile at each other like we know some deep, dark, secret. We do. We both know that we are meant to be together. We both know that we will end up together when it's all over. We both knew that when we lay together in the Horizon.