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Author's Note: These characters are not mine. Well, Doggett is mine...but not in the copyright sense of the word...anyway, leaving my dirty mind behind, CC (the Great!) owns these characters. I just play with them. (Get your minds /out/ of the gutter!) Without further ado, here's the story. "Coming, John!"...
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*click* The car door shuts firmly behind you, and I lean against the seat for support. Damnit, how much more obvious can I be? I practically throw myself at you, and you don't do anything, save stare at me longingly, and then tell me that you'll see me Monday. I want to slam my foot onto the gas pedal in frustration, hell, I nearly do. Instead, I just drive off, leaving you standing there in the crisp air.
Monday, damnit. I want to see you now, tonight...maybe even the whole night. What more could I have done? I can't think of anything, save telling you straight out that I sure as hell wanted you.
And I was stupid enough to think that I'd gotten through to you - that you'd finally figured it out. Damnit John, you never figure it out. When we were sitting there I watched your face, heard your voice, and knew it mirrored what I wanted. I really thought you were going to take me then...give me a kiss, and perhaps a hell of a lot more.
Out of nowhere you turned into my partner again, and not a would-be lover. Maybe you thought I was drunk. Yeah, that's it. You're too damn chivalrous to make love to a woman when she's drunk, just 'cause she might hate you for it in the morning. Damn you, John Doggett! Damn you for your morals, and your control, and for being so damned wonderful!
I sigh. "John, John, John." Monica, Monica, Monica. Honestly, what am I turning into? One of those meek girls who start swooning whenever they're approached by a handsome man? What's next, doodling 'I love you' on the corner of my case reports? Bet Kersh would appreciate that.
For some reason I glance over to my right. There's something coming on fast - a car? There's no time to react, no time to change course or speed. It's coming, coming, going to hit me and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. My arms go up to protect my face, and then we collide. At first there's just shock, and the sensation of spinning wildly out of control. I can't tell my head from my feet - hell, I can't define anything. A thousand blind sensations run through my mind. Light. Heat. Dark. Cold. Silence. Shock. Noise. Acceptance. And then…
Pain, agony, all over. It has to end, has to. I can't think, I can't move, I can't breath. And where the hell are you? Damn it John, if you'd just made your move...but it isn't your fault. I'm to blame as well...why the hell didn't I do anything? It echoes through my numbed mind. My fault. All is lost. All over.
Goodbye, John...
Author's Note: These characters are not mine. Well, Doggett is mine...but not in the copyright sense of the word...anyway, leaving my dirty mind behind, CC (the Great!) owns these characters. I just play with them. (Get your minds /out/ of the gutter!) Without further ado, here's the story. "Coming, John!"...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
*click* The car door shuts firmly behind you, and I lean against the seat for support. Damnit, how much more obvious can I be? I practically throw myself at you, and you don't do anything, save stare at me longingly, and then tell me that you'll see me Monday. I want to slam my foot onto the gas pedal in frustration, hell, I nearly do. Instead, I just drive off, leaving you standing there in the crisp air.
Monday, damnit. I want to see you now, tonight...maybe even the whole night. What more could I have done? I can't think of anything, save telling you straight out that I sure as hell wanted you.
And I was stupid enough to think that I'd gotten through to you - that you'd finally figured it out. Damnit John, you never figure it out. When we were sitting there I watched your face, heard your voice, and knew it mirrored what I wanted. I really thought you were going to take me then...give me a kiss, and perhaps a hell of a lot more.
Out of nowhere you turned into my partner again, and not a would-be lover. Maybe you thought I was drunk. Yeah, that's it. You're too damn chivalrous to make love to a woman when she's drunk, just 'cause she might hate you for it in the morning. Damn you, John Doggett! Damn you for your morals, and your control, and for being so damned wonderful!
I sigh. "John, John, John." Monica, Monica, Monica. Honestly, what am I turning into? One of those meek girls who start swooning whenever they're approached by a handsome man? What's next, doodling 'I love you' on the corner of my case reports? Bet Kersh would appreciate that.
For some reason I glance over to my right. There's something coming on fast - a car? There's no time to react, no time to change course or speed. It's coming, coming, going to hit me and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. My arms go up to protect my face, and then we collide. At first there's just shock, and the sensation of spinning wildly out of control. I can't tell my head from my feet - hell, I can't define anything. A thousand blind sensations run through my mind. Light. Heat. Dark. Cold. Silence. Shock. Noise. Acceptance. And then…
Pain, agony, all over. It has to end, has to. I can't think, I can't move, I can't breath. And where the hell are you? Damn it John, if you'd just made your move...but it isn't your fault. I'm to blame as well...why the hell didn't I do anything? It echoes through my numbed mind. My fault. All is lost. All over.
Goodbye, John...