Absence Is To Love
By: Olivia
A few hours later found CSU investigators searching for clues, invading Monica's apartment.
John could only glare at them. He wanted to yell at them to leave her stuff alone, to stop invading her privacy. It was all so impersonal. Even after all his years on the force, in the Marines, in the FBI, after all his share of invading people's privacy, he still couldn't stand this. The only thing holding him back down from going off was that he needed these people. He needed them to give him some clue, some lead, some starting point with which to start looking for Monica.
The door had been open when John had arrived, but it had not been forced open or damaged in any way. There was no other obvious entry point which led John to believe that Monica might have known her attacker. Besides co-workers at Bureau headquarters, who for the most part avoided the two of them and their office like the plague, John couldn't think of anyone that Monica knew in the City. He was angry at himself for not knowing if she had friends here outside of work or not. But then he reasoned it could have been any one she might have ran into during her daily routine. Someone at say the grocery store or the laundry mat.
Interviewing the neighbors for clues had proved useless and frustrating. After years as a in the NYPD and FBI he knew the creed well even before he had read about it in David Simon's book about Baltimore's Homicide Detectives. Everybody lies. Witnesses lie because they don't want to get involved. John hadn't expected help from them, but still he had hoped that someone had seen or heard something and that he or she would come forward. There had been a struggle; there had been a shot fired. The apartment walls just were not that thick. Somebody had to have witnessed something.
A hand on his shoulder interrupted John's thoughts. He looked up to see his own fear and concern mirrored in Skinner's face. "I just got of the phone with one of the labs," he said. "This is their top priority. Turns out the blood's not Monica's."
"Excuse me?" John was confused. The blood had to be Monica's.
"Like I said, the blood didn't come from, Monica."
John felt his heart rise a little. "Then maybe she's okay. Maybe it's the killer's blood. The bastard may have just kidnapped her."
Skinner nodded. His thoughts exactly.
"Whatever happened," said John with a tinge of pride, "Monica didn't go down without a fight."
Skinner said, "The shell casing we found, came from Monica's gun. Right now it looks like she shot her attacker. We also found this note." Skinner held up a piece of white paper in an evidence bag.
John reached for it. He turned the bag over to see what was written. He read aloud, "The Fox may have left but the hunt still continues.'" John looked at Skinner for an explanation. "Who is this?! What does it mean?! Obviously Fox would be Mulder but what does the rest of it mean?!" John was frustrated, angry. He felt like he was playing catch-up with this job and he was nine years behind. And here some psycho from some past X-File had kidnapped his partner.
Skinner took a deep breath. "I think I know who it might be."
By: Olivia
A few hours later found CSU investigators searching for clues, invading Monica's apartment.
John could only glare at them. He wanted to yell at them to leave her stuff alone, to stop invading her privacy. It was all so impersonal. Even after all his years on the force, in the Marines, in the FBI, after all his share of invading people's privacy, he still couldn't stand this. The only thing holding him back down from going off was that he needed these people. He needed them to give him some clue, some lead, some starting point with which to start looking for Monica.
The door had been open when John had arrived, but it had not been forced open or damaged in any way. There was no other obvious entry point which led John to believe that Monica might have known her attacker. Besides co-workers at Bureau headquarters, who for the most part avoided the two of them and their office like the plague, John couldn't think of anyone that Monica knew in the City. He was angry at himself for not knowing if she had friends here outside of work or not. But then he reasoned it could have been any one she might have ran into during her daily routine. Someone at say the grocery store or the laundry mat.
Interviewing the neighbors for clues had proved useless and frustrating. After years as a in the NYPD and FBI he knew the creed well even before he had read about it in David Simon's book about Baltimore's Homicide Detectives. Everybody lies. Witnesses lie because they don't want to get involved. John hadn't expected help from them, but still he had hoped that someone had seen or heard something and that he or she would come forward. There had been a struggle; there had been a shot fired. The apartment walls just were not that thick. Somebody had to have witnessed something.
A hand on his shoulder interrupted John's thoughts. He looked up to see his own fear and concern mirrored in Skinner's face. "I just got of the phone with one of the labs," he said. "This is their top priority. Turns out the blood's not Monica's."
"Excuse me?" John was confused. The blood had to be Monica's.
"Like I said, the blood didn't come from, Monica."
John felt his heart rise a little. "Then maybe she's okay. Maybe it's the killer's blood. The bastard may have just kidnapped her."
Skinner nodded. His thoughts exactly.
"Whatever happened," said John with a tinge of pride, "Monica didn't go down without a fight."
Skinner said, "The shell casing we found, came from Monica's gun. Right now it looks like she shot her attacker. We also found this note." Skinner held up a piece of white paper in an evidence bag.
John reached for it. He turned the bag over to see what was written. He read aloud, "The Fox may have left but the hunt still continues.'" John looked at Skinner for an explanation. "Who is this?! What does it mean?! Obviously Fox would be Mulder but what does the rest of it mean?!" John was frustrated, angry. He felt like he was playing catch-up with this job and he was nine years behind. And here some psycho from some past X-File had kidnapped his partner.
Skinner took a deep breath. "I think I know who it might be."
