Title: Night For Romance (2/?) [previously untitled] Author: Nichole Leigh Rating: PG Classification: DRR Spoilers: None, just a general knowledge Summary: It was a night for romance, but what does it lead to? Archive: Please! I got XFMU and The Vision, anywhere else let me know so I can visit and be all proud like. :-) A/N: Hey, I might actually finish this one! ::knocks on wood:: Thanks to Mariel for the feedback- you made me a very happy little girl. :-) Anyone else who wants my undying gratitude can e-mail Geekette12@aol.com or NLeigh1013@yahoo.com. ****** Maybe that's why I am invited him here tonight. To cure some of the melancholy creeping through my veins. It's not fair to me, nor to him, especially now. I sometimes think I'm falling in love with him. ****** "It would never work," I mumble, but I don't mean to say the words out loud. "What would never work?" he asks. I broke the silence, I realize then, but I can't take back the words. "I've never been in love," I say. John only looks slightly confused- he's used to me oblique connections- so I push forward. "Even in high school, when it seems that everyone is falling in and out of love. Some said that I intimidated the boys, scared them off. I think that's a problem I never really managed to overcome. That, and I could never let myself trust anyone enough to love them." "You trust me." Not a question. Funny how he always seems to already know that I'm just figuring out. "Yeah, I guess I do," I smile. "Then why wouldn't it work?" I frown. "Why wouldn't what work?" And how did I become the one being interrogated? He looks at me for a long moment and I silently dare him to answer. Of course, he doesn't. "Nothing," he says. "Forget it." But I can't. Suddenly, I am damn sick of our games. A never ending round of Mother May I? The same childish stubbornness and aggravation. Mother May I fall in love? No you may not. We've been stuck in the same spot, and even though the view is nice, it's getting boring and faded. "John-" But he just keeps looking at me with that steady gaze, and I force myself to bite back my cry of frustration. I just smile at him a little, and sip my beer. I'm annoyed with John, but with myself as well. I'm sick of this standstill, but I can't shake it. I know John loves me, if he would only admit it to himself. I wish there was a way for him to see me sitting right next to him. But he preferred blindness. "Why did you transfer to New Orleans?" John asks. Off my surprise he adds, "You're not the only one who can ask those random questions you know." "I know," I say, but I'm lost in thought. The unexpected question has grabbed my attention. What *was* the reason? I told myself then it was because of Brad, and maybe I even managed to be convinced of that, but sitting here with John, I wonder if I had managed to fool even myself. "Because of Brad," I answer. "I think." "You think." "Yeah. I mean, things weren't working, and I didn't think I could work with someone who I thought I had once loved." All of a sudden, I expect to see a little light bulb to ding above my head. John notices too. "What?" I replay in my head. And everything starts to make sense. Things I never even considered before become a blinding flash of the obvious. I never doubted my decision about leaving New York. Now, it makes sense. I couldn't stay because I was in love with John. Even then. "Monica?" He touches my knee and I'm forced to look at him. "You," I say recklessly. "What?" My heart is playing hopscotch, but I can tell that my voice is steady. "You're the reason I transferred to New Orleans," I explain. "I thought it was because of me and Brad, but it wasn't. I don't think I even realized it until now. I knew if I stayed, at some point we would be assigned to work together again. We were friends, and I was scared of what would happen to that if we were pushed together in a case and I couldn't risk it. I told everyone it was Brad, but it never was. It was you." "And yet here we are," he says. But his voice is cold, and though his eyes meet mine, they seem to look right through me. "I better go," he says. "It's getting late, and I gotta be up tomorrow." "John, tomorrow's Sunday." I smile, but I'm lost. "What's going on?" "Nothing. I'll see ya Monday, okay?" He doesn't even look at me when he dismisses me. He leaves his beer on the coffee table before heading towards the door, leaving me alone on the couch, pissed and confused. I hear him undo the dead bolt, and the sound forces me to stand and follow. "John." He stops, faces me. Before I lose my nerve, my arms are around his neck, my lips on his. He responds almost immediately, his arms finding their way around my waist. He pulls me up against him, almost violently so, and I can't fight the shudder that courses through me. In that instant, he pulls away, leaving me breathless and unable to do anything even as he leaves. The slam of the door breaks whatever state of shock I was in. Inexplicably angry, I go back into the living room, determined to read my book, but I can't sit. The novel is between the two drinks and the sight depresses me. I have no idea what just happened. Suddenly empty, I look out at the night and shut the window. ----- A/N II- If you need the first part, just e-mail me, or you can read it at The Vision (http://www.geocities.com/visionjdmr/index.html)