Title: Chicken Soup for A Special Agent's Soul
Author: Cerasi J.
Rating: PG
Summary: Crop circles, agents with the flu, and rude waitresses. Told from Monica's
POV.
Spoilers: DRR (The best kind!)
Disclaimer: I don't own John Doggett, Monica Reyes or anything X-File-ish. CC is da
man, and 1013 owns it all.
Author's Note: Apoligies to any Iowans I might have offended. :)
~*~*~
Ugh. Iowa, I hated this place. I raised a hand to my face to shield my eyes
from the late afternoon sun. Why am I here? I thought miserably to myself. I could be
at home… watching TV… or folding laundry… or something else.
"Monica," John said from someplace behind me, "Why are we here?" A smile touched
my lips as his words echoed my own thoughts. "Investigating crop circles, John."
"Yeah, but why?" He whined. I glanced over my shoulder at him and my smile faded;
he looked pale and cold, even through it was 90-something degrees and we were
standing in a sweltering cornfield. He looked that way on the plane out here, too.
"John," I questioned, turning to meet his eyes. "Are you all right? You look a bit pale."
He waved a hand and dismissed my question, "Fine. Why?" His voice sounded
scratchy, like he hadn't had a drink of water since Christ was a child.
I arched an eyebrow at him; "You… look sick. Are you sure everything is all right?"
"Fine Moncia, everything is fine," he looked down a file in his hand, "Okay… farmer
reports strange noises, goes outside to investigate, and finds crop circle."
His ice blue eyes flicked from the report to the pictures paper-clipped to the inside of the
file folder, "Hmm, the circle looks a bit lop-sided, what do you think?" He held the
picture up so I could see.
I examined the "circle," it did look strange… like someone took a lawn mower into a
cornfield and attemped to mow a smiley face. "Well, it might be the work of teenagers,"
I said, trying to hide a yawn.
John nodded a bit, his eyes looking at every possible nook of the picture. "How?" His
question caught me off-guard. "Uh, well. A weedburner maybe…" I almost said
"weedeater," I bit my lip to keep myself from giggling.
He shook his head stubbornly; "There's no evidence of fire here…" He walked past me,
disappearing in the forest of corn stalks. I sighed. It was going to be a long weekend.
~*~*~
I walked around the "crop circle" for the fifth time in an hour. I yawned, I was hungry,
tired, hot and I had a weird urge to go swimming. In water, not corn.
John seemed hell-bent on getting this case done with. The only thing I couldn't figure
out was, where's all the evidence?
Finally, fatigue reared its ugly head and I sat down in the middle of the circle, watching
John pace around, looking for evidence. I yawned again, and wondered if the bureau
had booked a hotel with a pool.
John seemed to take interest in something near the ground. "Monica… c'mere, you
gotta see this…" Repressing my sigh and the urge to roll my eyes I stood and walked
over to my partner. "What is it?" I asked.
"Tell me," he said, bending down to examine a corn stalk, "What does that look like?" I
bent down too, my eyes scanning the middle of the stalk. "It… looks like… teeth
marks?" I glanced at him, "Teeth marks? In a cornfield?"
He stood, "They must have some damn big grasshoppers out here."
~*~*~
After that, we left the cornfield and drove into town. "I'm hungry," I complained
as we drove past a diner called The Coffee Pot. "Yeah," John mumbled. He still looked
cold and pale, and oddly… very weak. Which scared me.
We turned around, parked on the street and walked across to the diner. We entered. It
contained your usual small-town diner crowd. The old farmers sitting at the bar, the
group of church-women out for a nice salad and maybe an iced tea, the group of out-
cast teenagers from the local highschool.
A petite looking blonde woman in her early 20's with a name tag reading "Tiffany"
grabbed two menus, shot a coy look at John and said, "Y'all want a booth or a table?"
John shrugged, "Booth," I said. The blonde girl chomped loudly on her gum as she led
us to our table. I sat, she tossed a menu in my direction and said to John, "Can I…
hehe… get you anything, darlin'?"
I smirked as I read over the list of sandwiches. "Uh," John cleared his throat, "A cup of
coffee, Monica?"
I looked up; "I'll have the BLT, with fries, and a glass of water." The waitress
wrote it down, John stared at his menu, "I'll have the same." I handed my menu back.
She smirked at John, "Sure thang, honey."
She planted a spiked heel into the floor, turned and minced back into the
kitchen. I bit my lip hard to keep myself from cracking any rude comments.
John rolled his eyes and gave me a look that said, "Why me?"
I couldn't stand it any longer, I leaned over the table, took John's hand to get his
attention and mocked quietly, "You want…" I licked my lips, "…fries with that, darlin'?"
He burst out laughing, causing people all over the diner to look in our direction. His
laughter subsided into a coughing fit. "Are you okay?" I asked, still grinning at my own
joke.
He looked up and smiled fakely at me, "I'm fine." I stared at him a minute longer,
"You're lying."
John rolled his eyes at me, "Fine, fine, I think I'm gettin' the flu… no biggy." I shook my
head, "John, if you're getting sick you should have stayed home."
His eyes were wide, glassy with a slight fever, clear as blue crystal. "I wanted to be
here with you." A look of surprise found it's way to my face, "John, I-…"
He interruped me, "What do you think about this case? Is it kids out having fun
or is it Agent Mulder's little green men?"
I blinked, my mind switching mental gears to keep up with the conversation. I
shrugged, "It might be kids. That's what I think it is."
"Yeah, but… how do you explain those teeth marks we found?"
"If you want to call them teeth marks," I cornered, "It might be kids with a lawn-mower,
out joyriding in Farmer Walden's field."
He set his jaw, the way he does when he wants to win an argument. "How
would you get a lawn-mower into a corn field, Monica?"
"It's a just an idea, I-…"
The waitress sauntered over to our table. She set my plate in front of me, and John's
she still held in her hand. "What'll 'ya give me if I give you your plate?" She said to
John, ignoring the fact that I asked for a BLT, not a Reuben. She winked at him and
held his plate up high like it was an Olympic gold medal.
Crystal blue fire sparked in John's eyes, he looked like he wanted to snach the plate
away from her and beat her over the head with it. "A tip," he growled.
This seemed to infuriate the waitress. "Hummph!" She slammed John's plate
down onto the table, spilling his coffee and knocking over a bottle of ketchup. She
stomped off into the kitchens, her nose in the air.
John glared bullet holes into the woman's back. Another waitress came over and
helped us wipe up the mess, "Damn that Tiffany," she complained. "That girl is
useless."
I grinned to myself, she should know better than to flirt with a guy who was
already taken. I blushed at my selfish thought.
We finshed our dinner in peace, once in awhile Tiffany, the ditzy waitress, would walk
past our table and glare at me. I ignored her; I was more concerned about John.
He seemed to grow worse; he coughed a lot, one minute he would be shivering, the
next sweating. Twice I leaned over the table and asked if he was all right and if he
wanted to leave.
Of course, both times he replied that he was fine and hurry and eat, we have a case to
crack.
By the time we finshed eating, it was growing dark outside and John looked even
worse. I insisted we go back to the hotel. Finally, I got him to agree. I drove and John
sat in the passenger's seat, looking miserable.
I had to half-drag him to his room, which was next door to mine. I fumbled with
the key in the dark; John leaned against the wall. I looked up at him, "Hey," I said,
"You okay? You wanna find a doctor or something?"
He shook his head and coughed, "No… I just need a good night's rest." I
pushed the key into the lock, "What you need is some medicine *and* a good night's
rest."
He glared at me; I pushed open the door and went inside. I crossed the room
and quickly turned on the lights, then the heat. "Oh, for crying out loud, Monica," John
exclaimed. "You're acting like I have cancer or something. I can take care of myself,
you know."
I had no idea why I felt hurt, but I did. "I know, John. I'm just trying to be
helpful," I murmured quietly. He removed his jacket and threw it onto the bed; I
practically bolted for the open door, hoping John wouldn't think I was too strange.
"Night, Monica."
I threw him a glance over my shoulder, resisting the urge to tell him I was right next
door if he needed me, of course he wouldn't. "Night John."
I shut the door quietly behind me, why did it seem I was always a flop with
guys?
~*~*~
I lay in my bed for a long time after I left John's room. Thinking to myself,
wondering if I would ever have any luck with any guy. Or if any guy would like me. I
thought of Brad and cringed, boy what a mistake he was.
I peeked at the clock next to my bed. 11:16 p.m. I sighed, and rolled over. I
closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Two hours later, at 1:24 a.m. I heard a tapping at my door. I bolted upright in
bed and reached for my gun on the nightstand. The tapping became a knock, I heard a
voice on the other side of the door, but it was muffled.
I crept out of bed, holding my gun tightly by my side. The person knocked
again, I had reached the door. I called out, "Who is it?"
I heard a cough, "Monica, it's me."
I unlocked the door and opened it, John stumbled in. "Ugh," he groaned, "I
don't feel well." I switched on the lights and blinked at him. Great, just my luck, when
I wanted to baby him he wouldn't let me, now when I am tired and don't want to, he
wants me to take pity on him. I just can't win. He coughed again. I shut the door and
locked it again, returning my gun to it's holster, I asked, "What's the matter?"
He crashed sleepily onto my bed, not answering. I cocked my head to the side,
watching him. He looked cute in his t-shirt and sweatpants, all tangled up in the bed
covers. I smiled at him. John opened one eye and said again, "I don't feel good."
I felt like screaming, "WHAT DO YOU WANT *ME* TO DO ABOUT IT?!" But instead I
only nodded at him. "Can I stay in here tonight?"
His question caught me off guard; I opened my eyes very wide. "Um… uh, I,
uh… sure, I guess." He smiled his thanks at me, and returned to looking cute and lazy.
My eyes returned to their normal size, and I arched one eyebrow. Great. Now where
was I supposed to sleep? I looked at the floor, then realized how cold it was on my
bare feet and ruled that opinion out.
John opened his eyes again, "What are you standing there for, Moncia?" For a
brief moment I wanted to tell him to get back to his own room so I could sleep, but I bit
my tongue. "Um, well, just wondering where I am going to sleep."
He gave me his "Are you freakin' crazy" look and said, "Why can't you sleep here?" He
pointed to the spot beside him.
I made a noise that sounded a bit like, "eep." I cleared my throat, "Erm, uh..."
He grinned rogueishly, "C'mon... I don't bite." I played with my hair nervously, "I just...
don't wanna get sick too..."
He climbed under the blankets, "That's a lame excuse, Monica." I made a face
which resembled: -_- It was worth a shot. I was just trying to be modest.
I climbed under the covers next to John and just layed there. Should I hold him or
something? "Monica."
"What?"
"Turn off the lights."
I sighed and got out of bed, switched out the lights, and crawled back in bed. My head
touched the pillow and my eyes fluttered closed.
John's hand snaked out and caught mine, my eyes flew open and my breath
seemed to be stuck in my throat. "Thanks for letting me stay here," he whispered. He
stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.
"N-no problem," I whispered back.
John shifted and moved closer to me, he rested his head on my shoulder. "This
okay?" He asked. I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me nod in the dark, so I
answered, "Yes."
"Good." He wrapped his arms around my waist, and snuggled real close to me.
I could hardly contain my excitement. I felt like giggling.
I brushed back his hair and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, John." He
was already drifted off to sleep; his breathing was soft against my cheek. He replied,
"Mm... night Monica..." He shifted a bit, then said, "Love you..."
My eyes shot open, did he just say... what I think he said? "John... what did you
say?" The only reply I got was a soft snoring. ARGH!! He was probably lethargic and
didn't mean it anyway.
The thought brought tears to my eyes; he probably didn't love me. I was just
his partner. I closed my eyes, held him close and drifted off to sleep.
~*~*~
I awoke at 7:00 a.m. the next morning. John still had his head on my shoulder
and was snoring loudly. But I didn't mind it really; I liked it as a matter of fact…
I yawned, I was warm and comfortable and still very sleepy. I closed my eyes
joined in on John's snoring.
~*~*~
8:42 a.m. is the next time I woke. I opened my eyes and John was staring at
me, "Mornin' Sunshine," he quipped.
This time I did giggle, "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he lied. "Good as new." I placed my hand on his forehead. "You have a
fever," I announced.
John rolled his eyes at me, "Yeah, yeah. But we have a case to crack." I sighed,
"You're not going to make me get up, are you?"
"Yes, I am."
"So move so I can get up."
He rolled over and I swung my feet over the bed. I yawned, my eyes were still fuzzy
from sleep.
I gathered up my clothes and headed to the bathroom. It was going to be
another long day.
~*~*~
It was another long, hot, miserable day in the cornfield. It was around the same
time in the day and I sat in the middle of the crop circle again. The sun pounded on my
back, and I had the weird urge to go swimming again.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Ew. What was that smell?
"Hey John! You smell that?" I shouted over to him. He looked at me, "Monica, I have a
cold, I can't smell anything."
"Oh… oopsy."
"What's it smell like?"
I sniffed the air. "Cow pies."
He wrinkled his nose, "Cow pies?"
"Yeah," I said. I got to my feet and an idea slapped me in the face, "John! What
if there were cows in this field?!"
He stared at me like I was insain, so I went on, "John… if there were cows in this
field and they ate the corn… that would explain the teeth marks, the funny smell and
the reason the "circle" is in such a weird shape."
After that we spent the rest of the afternoon gathering information about the
farmer's cows and whatnot.
It turns out I was right… (For once! Yay!) and the cows were let into the corn
field by a bunch of kids, the cows ate in the big circle we found, and the farmer's son
rounded them up and put them back in the field and never told his father because he'd
get in trouble.
John and I figured the case was solved, and we were leaving the next morning.
As I drove back to our hotel rooms I thought about John coming into my room last night
like a scared little boy.
He'd never said a word about it today… so I figured I'd just let it go.
I parked, and we walked to our rooms. This time I didn't go into John's. "Night
John," I said.
He walked over to me and hugged me. I blinked, and hugged him back. He let
me go and looked into my eyes, "Mon… last night, when I said I loved you…" He leaned
down slowly and kissed me on the lips, "I meant it."
I was shocked, "I-… I love you too, John." I smiled up at him. He grinned at
me, "Mind if I, uh, sleep in your room again? I'm still not feeling well." John winked at
me, opened the door and pushed me inside.
Author: Cerasi J.
Rating: PG
Summary: Crop circles, agents with the flu, and rude waitresses. Told from Monica's
POV.
Spoilers: DRR (The best kind!)
Disclaimer: I don't own John Doggett, Monica Reyes or anything X-File-ish. CC is da
man, and 1013 owns it all.
Author's Note: Apoligies to any Iowans I might have offended. :)
~*~*~
Ugh. Iowa, I hated this place. I raised a hand to my face to shield my eyes
from the late afternoon sun. Why am I here? I thought miserably to myself. I could be
at home… watching TV… or folding laundry… or something else.
"Monica," John said from someplace behind me, "Why are we here?" A smile touched
my lips as his words echoed my own thoughts. "Investigating crop circles, John."
"Yeah, but why?" He whined. I glanced over my shoulder at him and my smile faded;
he looked pale and cold, even through it was 90-something degrees and we were
standing in a sweltering cornfield. He looked that way on the plane out here, too.
"John," I questioned, turning to meet his eyes. "Are you all right? You look a bit pale."
He waved a hand and dismissed my question, "Fine. Why?" His voice sounded
scratchy, like he hadn't had a drink of water since Christ was a child.
I arched an eyebrow at him; "You… look sick. Are you sure everything is all right?"
"Fine Moncia, everything is fine," he looked down a file in his hand, "Okay… farmer
reports strange noises, goes outside to investigate, and finds crop circle."
His ice blue eyes flicked from the report to the pictures paper-clipped to the inside of the
file folder, "Hmm, the circle looks a bit lop-sided, what do you think?" He held the
picture up so I could see.
I examined the "circle," it did look strange… like someone took a lawn mower into a
cornfield and attemped to mow a smiley face. "Well, it might be the work of teenagers,"
I said, trying to hide a yawn.
John nodded a bit, his eyes looking at every possible nook of the picture. "How?" His
question caught me off-guard. "Uh, well. A weedburner maybe…" I almost said
"weedeater," I bit my lip to keep myself from giggling.
He shook his head stubbornly; "There's no evidence of fire here…" He walked past me,
disappearing in the forest of corn stalks. I sighed. It was going to be a long weekend.
~*~*~
I walked around the "crop circle" for the fifth time in an hour. I yawned, I was hungry,
tired, hot and I had a weird urge to go swimming. In water, not corn.
John seemed hell-bent on getting this case done with. The only thing I couldn't figure
out was, where's all the evidence?
Finally, fatigue reared its ugly head and I sat down in the middle of the circle, watching
John pace around, looking for evidence. I yawned again, and wondered if the bureau
had booked a hotel with a pool.
John seemed to take interest in something near the ground. "Monica… c'mere, you
gotta see this…" Repressing my sigh and the urge to roll my eyes I stood and walked
over to my partner. "What is it?" I asked.
"Tell me," he said, bending down to examine a corn stalk, "What does that look like?" I
bent down too, my eyes scanning the middle of the stalk. "It… looks like… teeth
marks?" I glanced at him, "Teeth marks? In a cornfield?"
He stood, "They must have some damn big grasshoppers out here."
~*~*~
After that, we left the cornfield and drove into town. "I'm hungry," I complained
as we drove past a diner called The Coffee Pot. "Yeah," John mumbled. He still looked
cold and pale, and oddly… very weak. Which scared me.
We turned around, parked on the street and walked across to the diner. We entered. It
contained your usual small-town diner crowd. The old farmers sitting at the bar, the
group of church-women out for a nice salad and maybe an iced tea, the group of out-
cast teenagers from the local highschool.
A petite looking blonde woman in her early 20's with a name tag reading "Tiffany"
grabbed two menus, shot a coy look at John and said, "Y'all want a booth or a table?"
John shrugged, "Booth," I said. The blonde girl chomped loudly on her gum as she led
us to our table. I sat, she tossed a menu in my direction and said to John, "Can I…
hehe… get you anything, darlin'?"
I smirked as I read over the list of sandwiches. "Uh," John cleared his throat, "A cup of
coffee, Monica?"
I looked up; "I'll have the BLT, with fries, and a glass of water." The waitress
wrote it down, John stared at his menu, "I'll have the same." I handed my menu back.
She smirked at John, "Sure thang, honey."
She planted a spiked heel into the floor, turned and minced back into the
kitchen. I bit my lip hard to keep myself from cracking any rude comments.
John rolled his eyes and gave me a look that said, "Why me?"
I couldn't stand it any longer, I leaned over the table, took John's hand to get his
attention and mocked quietly, "You want…" I licked my lips, "…fries with that, darlin'?"
He burst out laughing, causing people all over the diner to look in our direction. His
laughter subsided into a coughing fit. "Are you okay?" I asked, still grinning at my own
joke.
He looked up and smiled fakely at me, "I'm fine." I stared at him a minute longer,
"You're lying."
John rolled his eyes at me, "Fine, fine, I think I'm gettin' the flu… no biggy." I shook my
head, "John, if you're getting sick you should have stayed home."
His eyes were wide, glassy with a slight fever, clear as blue crystal. "I wanted to be
here with you." A look of surprise found it's way to my face, "John, I-…"
He interruped me, "What do you think about this case? Is it kids out having fun
or is it Agent Mulder's little green men?"
I blinked, my mind switching mental gears to keep up with the conversation. I
shrugged, "It might be kids. That's what I think it is."
"Yeah, but… how do you explain those teeth marks we found?"
"If you want to call them teeth marks," I cornered, "It might be kids with a lawn-mower,
out joyriding in Farmer Walden's field."
He set his jaw, the way he does when he wants to win an argument. "How
would you get a lawn-mower into a corn field, Monica?"
"It's a just an idea, I-…"
The waitress sauntered over to our table. She set my plate in front of me, and John's
she still held in her hand. "What'll 'ya give me if I give you your plate?" She said to
John, ignoring the fact that I asked for a BLT, not a Reuben. She winked at him and
held his plate up high like it was an Olympic gold medal.
Crystal blue fire sparked in John's eyes, he looked like he wanted to snach the plate
away from her and beat her over the head with it. "A tip," he growled.
This seemed to infuriate the waitress. "Hummph!" She slammed John's plate
down onto the table, spilling his coffee and knocking over a bottle of ketchup. She
stomped off into the kitchens, her nose in the air.
John glared bullet holes into the woman's back. Another waitress came over and
helped us wipe up the mess, "Damn that Tiffany," she complained. "That girl is
useless."
I grinned to myself, she should know better than to flirt with a guy who was
already taken. I blushed at my selfish thought.
We finshed our dinner in peace, once in awhile Tiffany, the ditzy waitress, would walk
past our table and glare at me. I ignored her; I was more concerned about John.
He seemed to grow worse; he coughed a lot, one minute he would be shivering, the
next sweating. Twice I leaned over the table and asked if he was all right and if he
wanted to leave.
Of course, both times he replied that he was fine and hurry and eat, we have a case to
crack.
By the time we finshed eating, it was growing dark outside and John looked even
worse. I insisted we go back to the hotel. Finally, I got him to agree. I drove and John
sat in the passenger's seat, looking miserable.
I had to half-drag him to his room, which was next door to mine. I fumbled with
the key in the dark; John leaned against the wall. I looked up at him, "Hey," I said,
"You okay? You wanna find a doctor or something?"
He shook his head and coughed, "No… I just need a good night's rest." I
pushed the key into the lock, "What you need is some medicine *and* a good night's
rest."
He glared at me; I pushed open the door and went inside. I crossed the room
and quickly turned on the lights, then the heat. "Oh, for crying out loud, Monica," John
exclaimed. "You're acting like I have cancer or something. I can take care of myself,
you know."
I had no idea why I felt hurt, but I did. "I know, John. I'm just trying to be
helpful," I murmured quietly. He removed his jacket and threw it onto the bed; I
practically bolted for the open door, hoping John wouldn't think I was too strange.
"Night, Monica."
I threw him a glance over my shoulder, resisting the urge to tell him I was right next
door if he needed me, of course he wouldn't. "Night John."
I shut the door quietly behind me, why did it seem I was always a flop with
guys?
~*~*~
I lay in my bed for a long time after I left John's room. Thinking to myself,
wondering if I would ever have any luck with any guy. Or if any guy would like me. I
thought of Brad and cringed, boy what a mistake he was.
I peeked at the clock next to my bed. 11:16 p.m. I sighed, and rolled over. I
closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Two hours later, at 1:24 a.m. I heard a tapping at my door. I bolted upright in
bed and reached for my gun on the nightstand. The tapping became a knock, I heard a
voice on the other side of the door, but it was muffled.
I crept out of bed, holding my gun tightly by my side. The person knocked
again, I had reached the door. I called out, "Who is it?"
I heard a cough, "Monica, it's me."
I unlocked the door and opened it, John stumbled in. "Ugh," he groaned, "I
don't feel well." I switched on the lights and blinked at him. Great, just my luck, when
I wanted to baby him he wouldn't let me, now when I am tired and don't want to, he
wants me to take pity on him. I just can't win. He coughed again. I shut the door and
locked it again, returning my gun to it's holster, I asked, "What's the matter?"
He crashed sleepily onto my bed, not answering. I cocked my head to the side,
watching him. He looked cute in his t-shirt and sweatpants, all tangled up in the bed
covers. I smiled at him. John opened one eye and said again, "I don't feel good."
I felt like screaming, "WHAT DO YOU WANT *ME* TO DO ABOUT IT?!" But instead I
only nodded at him. "Can I stay in here tonight?"
His question caught me off guard; I opened my eyes very wide. "Um… uh, I,
uh… sure, I guess." He smiled his thanks at me, and returned to looking cute and lazy.
My eyes returned to their normal size, and I arched one eyebrow. Great. Now where
was I supposed to sleep? I looked at the floor, then realized how cold it was on my
bare feet and ruled that opinion out.
John opened his eyes again, "What are you standing there for, Moncia?" For a
brief moment I wanted to tell him to get back to his own room so I could sleep, but I bit
my tongue. "Um, well, just wondering where I am going to sleep."
He gave me his "Are you freakin' crazy" look and said, "Why can't you sleep here?" He
pointed to the spot beside him.
I made a noise that sounded a bit like, "eep." I cleared my throat, "Erm, uh..."
He grinned rogueishly, "C'mon... I don't bite." I played with my hair nervously, "I just...
don't wanna get sick too..."
He climbed under the blankets, "That's a lame excuse, Monica." I made a face
which resembled: -_- It was worth a shot. I was just trying to be modest.
I climbed under the covers next to John and just layed there. Should I hold him or
something? "Monica."
"What?"
"Turn off the lights."
I sighed and got out of bed, switched out the lights, and crawled back in bed. My head
touched the pillow and my eyes fluttered closed.
John's hand snaked out and caught mine, my eyes flew open and my breath
seemed to be stuck in my throat. "Thanks for letting me stay here," he whispered. He
stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.
"N-no problem," I whispered back.
John shifted and moved closer to me, he rested his head on my shoulder. "This
okay?" He asked. I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me nod in the dark, so I
answered, "Yes."
"Good." He wrapped his arms around my waist, and snuggled real close to me.
I could hardly contain my excitement. I felt like giggling.
I brushed back his hair and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, John." He
was already drifted off to sleep; his breathing was soft against my cheek. He replied,
"Mm... night Monica..." He shifted a bit, then said, "Love you..."
My eyes shot open, did he just say... what I think he said? "John... what did you
say?" The only reply I got was a soft snoring. ARGH!! He was probably lethargic and
didn't mean it anyway.
The thought brought tears to my eyes; he probably didn't love me. I was just
his partner. I closed my eyes, held him close and drifted off to sleep.
~*~*~
I awoke at 7:00 a.m. the next morning. John still had his head on my shoulder
and was snoring loudly. But I didn't mind it really; I liked it as a matter of fact…
I yawned, I was warm and comfortable and still very sleepy. I closed my eyes
joined in on John's snoring.
~*~*~
8:42 a.m. is the next time I woke. I opened my eyes and John was staring at
me, "Mornin' Sunshine," he quipped.
This time I did giggle, "How are you feeling?"
"Better," he lied. "Good as new." I placed my hand on his forehead. "You have a
fever," I announced.
John rolled his eyes at me, "Yeah, yeah. But we have a case to crack." I sighed,
"You're not going to make me get up, are you?"
"Yes, I am."
"So move so I can get up."
He rolled over and I swung my feet over the bed. I yawned, my eyes were still fuzzy
from sleep.
I gathered up my clothes and headed to the bathroom. It was going to be
another long day.
~*~*~
It was another long, hot, miserable day in the cornfield. It was around the same
time in the day and I sat in the middle of the crop circle again. The sun pounded on my
back, and I had the weird urge to go swimming again.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Ew. What was that smell?
"Hey John! You smell that?" I shouted over to him. He looked at me, "Monica, I have a
cold, I can't smell anything."
"Oh… oopsy."
"What's it smell like?"
I sniffed the air. "Cow pies."
He wrinkled his nose, "Cow pies?"
"Yeah," I said. I got to my feet and an idea slapped me in the face, "John! What
if there were cows in this field?!"
He stared at me like I was insain, so I went on, "John… if there were cows in this
field and they ate the corn… that would explain the teeth marks, the funny smell and
the reason the "circle" is in such a weird shape."
After that we spent the rest of the afternoon gathering information about the
farmer's cows and whatnot.
It turns out I was right… (For once! Yay!) and the cows were let into the corn
field by a bunch of kids, the cows ate in the big circle we found, and the farmer's son
rounded them up and put them back in the field and never told his father because he'd
get in trouble.
John and I figured the case was solved, and we were leaving the next morning.
As I drove back to our hotel rooms I thought about John coming into my room last night
like a scared little boy.
He'd never said a word about it today… so I figured I'd just let it go.
I parked, and we walked to our rooms. This time I didn't go into John's. "Night
John," I said.
He walked over to me and hugged me. I blinked, and hugged him back. He let
me go and looked into my eyes, "Mon… last night, when I said I loved you…" He leaned
down slowly and kissed me on the lips, "I meant it."
I was shocked, "I-… I love you too, John." I smiled up at him. He grinned at
me, "Mind if I, uh, sleep in your room again? I'm still not feeling well." John winked at
me, opened the door and pushed me inside.