Absence Is To Love 8
By: Olivia
John, back at his house, was fuming. He angrily paced back and forth. He would have admitted that he was angry at himself for losing his control back there in the interrogation room if he wasn't fueled with anger at Skinner for taking him off this case.
Sure Skinner had officers and agents to handle the case. Sure he hadn't gotten any sleep since Monica had been kidnapped. Sure he was emotionally involved. But that was the point wasn't it? He could still be objective couldn't he? This case needed passion. There was, he hoped, a living breathing woman out there who needed help. But to the others except Skinner, that's all it was, just another case, another person. To John, it was his partner, his friend, his....
They didn't know the person behind the FBI photo. John did, or at least he had been finding out. John pulled the FBI photo out of his pocket, the one that had been circulating around, the one he had kept in his pocket ever since Monica disappeared. He gazed at it. She was smiling slightly in the picture. But it wasn't her real smile, the kind he saw when she was truly happy, the smile that he found she had when she looked at him sometimes. The smile that lit up her eyes.
John plopped down at the sofa, still staring at the photo. He admitted that he was angry at himself for getting kicked off the case when Monica needed him. He was angry at asking Monica to join him on the X-Files. He had put her in danger. He had been selfish. It was ridiculous for him to think that way he knew. Their jobs were dangerous, X-Files or no. Hell, life was dangerous. There were no guarantees. And yet he could not stop himself from feeling guilty. Partners were supposed to watch each other's backs and he had been doing a real bang up job so far. He felt himself filled with sorrow at the thought of what Monica must be going through or feeling right now.
He thought of Monica's feelings for him. He knew that she loved him. At first he hadn't been sure. There had been little hints he and there when he had suspected that she might, but he had always dismissed it. They were so different, such opposites, that he didn't really believe that she would ever, could ever view him as more than a friend. But she did. That inner voice inside of him had told him as much that night in the car.
And his feelings for her? His feelings toward her had been so jumbled, so mixed, so confusing. He had always deeply respected her and cared about her, even when they disagreed strongly about a case. From the moment John had first met her, when his son had disappeared, he knew that she would do everything in her power to find his son, which she did. In Monica's effort, he had not been disappointed. Out of that tragedy a friendship had been born. It was a friendship that time and space had made to burn a little less brightly over the years, but burned it still did. Monica joining him on the X-Files had cemented their friendship as shared tragedy and danger often does to people.
But love? He thought of the women he had loved throughout his life. Barbara had been his high school sweetheart. They had married young. She hadn't liked being the wife of a marine, a cop, a detective and all the baggage that had gone along with it. They stayed together for their son, for Luke, whom they both adored. And when he was gone, there was nothing left to hold them together. They still spoke occasionally. He still cared about her. Certainly not love, but he cared. But that was the way he was. Once you were his friend, you were his friend.
And then he had been assigned to the X-Files and was partnered with Dana. He knew from the first that her heart would never, could never, beat for him. She loved Mulder. Always had and always would. If Mulder hadn't been returned, maybe one day she would have allowed herself to love another, but she would have always compared her new love to him. And John knew whoever that was, he would never measure up.
And yet despite all this, John grew to care about her. He could see himself in her-a parent desparate to protect her child, a person longing for a missing loved one. These things he could understand, because he too had been in her shoes once. And Dana was different than Barbara in that she too was on the job. She understood the job, she loved the job, in a way Barbara could never understand or appreciate. John and Dana were alike in that they were skeptics in a unit that called for the open mindedness to possibilities beyond the realm of science. For this and for so many other reasons, he had fallen for Dana. And yet he would never intrude on her love for Mulder. He respected her, and yes he even respected Mulder, too much. There was safety in this unrequited love.
Then Monica had come back into his life full time to be his partner after Dana left. Yes they were opposites, yes they didn't really see eye to eye on their cases as skeptic and believer. And yet somehow they complemented each other. Somehow they wouldn't be able to do this job without each other. Monica had always been there for him-helping him, watching his back, loyal to him like no other. And yet she never hesitated to let him know her opinion. She was strong, independent, open minded, compassionate, and yes beautiful. Even after all the years of seeing the worst humanity had to offer, she still somehow kept her sunny disposition, her optimism, intact. She kept the ugliness, the darkness, that surrounded them at bay, from seeping into her heart. She would purse justice, purse the truth, no matter what the personal cost to herself. It was as his partner that John got to see this everyday. His admiration, his respect, his friendship towards her had grown into love.
Love. There he had thought it. He loved Monica. Of course he had known it for awhile. He had kept her at a distance. He had thought that she could do better than him and he hadn't allowed himself to be happy, to truly be happy, until they had found Luke's killer a couple of months ago. Since then, he had allowed her in more, a little at a time. They had spent more time together outside of work and yet he still hadn't told her that he loved her. She knew. She had to know didn't she? Still....
A phone was ringing which interrupted John's thoughts. At first he thought is was his home phone but after a few minutes he realized it was his cell. "John Doggett."
"Hello, Agent Doggett," said an unfamiliar female voice.
"Linda Bowman is that you?" demanded John angrily.
"Very good," said Linda smugly. "You really are an ACE detective aren't you."
"I wanna speak with Monica!"
"Yes, and I'm sure she'd love to speak with you too, but I'm afraid she's quite tied up right now. If you want to see your partner again I suggest that you meet me at the abandoned warehouse in the District on the corner of K and 20th. You should come alone."
"We've got yer cousin. We've got Robert. Monica better be alive or else....."
"Robert knew the risk of going to the hospital. You've got thirty minutes, Agent Doggett. The clock is ticking."
"How do I know you haven't hurt her?!"
"You don't. But you'd better hurry or else I just might." Bowman had ended the call.
By: Olivia
John, back at his house, was fuming. He angrily paced back and forth. He would have admitted that he was angry at himself for losing his control back there in the interrogation room if he wasn't fueled with anger at Skinner for taking him off this case.
Sure Skinner had officers and agents to handle the case. Sure he hadn't gotten any sleep since Monica had been kidnapped. Sure he was emotionally involved. But that was the point wasn't it? He could still be objective couldn't he? This case needed passion. There was, he hoped, a living breathing woman out there who needed help. But to the others except Skinner, that's all it was, just another case, another person. To John, it was his partner, his friend, his....
They didn't know the person behind the FBI photo. John did, or at least he had been finding out. John pulled the FBI photo out of his pocket, the one that had been circulating around, the one he had kept in his pocket ever since Monica disappeared. He gazed at it. She was smiling slightly in the picture. But it wasn't her real smile, the kind he saw when she was truly happy, the smile that he found she had when she looked at him sometimes. The smile that lit up her eyes.
John plopped down at the sofa, still staring at the photo. He admitted that he was angry at himself for getting kicked off the case when Monica needed him. He was angry at asking Monica to join him on the X-Files. He had put her in danger. He had been selfish. It was ridiculous for him to think that way he knew. Their jobs were dangerous, X-Files or no. Hell, life was dangerous. There were no guarantees. And yet he could not stop himself from feeling guilty. Partners were supposed to watch each other's backs and he had been doing a real bang up job so far. He felt himself filled with sorrow at the thought of what Monica must be going through or feeling right now.
He thought of Monica's feelings for him. He knew that she loved him. At first he hadn't been sure. There had been little hints he and there when he had suspected that she might, but he had always dismissed it. They were so different, such opposites, that he didn't really believe that she would ever, could ever view him as more than a friend. But she did. That inner voice inside of him had told him as much that night in the car.
And his feelings for her? His feelings toward her had been so jumbled, so mixed, so confusing. He had always deeply respected her and cared about her, even when they disagreed strongly about a case. From the moment John had first met her, when his son had disappeared, he knew that she would do everything in her power to find his son, which she did. In Monica's effort, he had not been disappointed. Out of that tragedy a friendship had been born. It was a friendship that time and space had made to burn a little less brightly over the years, but burned it still did. Monica joining him on the X-Files had cemented their friendship as shared tragedy and danger often does to people.
But love? He thought of the women he had loved throughout his life. Barbara had been his high school sweetheart. They had married young. She hadn't liked being the wife of a marine, a cop, a detective and all the baggage that had gone along with it. They stayed together for their son, for Luke, whom they both adored. And when he was gone, there was nothing left to hold them together. They still spoke occasionally. He still cared about her. Certainly not love, but he cared. But that was the way he was. Once you were his friend, you were his friend.
And then he had been assigned to the X-Files and was partnered with Dana. He knew from the first that her heart would never, could never, beat for him. She loved Mulder. Always had and always would. If Mulder hadn't been returned, maybe one day she would have allowed herself to love another, but she would have always compared her new love to him. And John knew whoever that was, he would never measure up.
And yet despite all this, John grew to care about her. He could see himself in her-a parent desparate to protect her child, a person longing for a missing loved one. These things he could understand, because he too had been in her shoes once. And Dana was different than Barbara in that she too was on the job. She understood the job, she loved the job, in a way Barbara could never understand or appreciate. John and Dana were alike in that they were skeptics in a unit that called for the open mindedness to possibilities beyond the realm of science. For this and for so many other reasons, he had fallen for Dana. And yet he would never intrude on her love for Mulder. He respected her, and yes he even respected Mulder, too much. There was safety in this unrequited love.
Then Monica had come back into his life full time to be his partner after Dana left. Yes they were opposites, yes they didn't really see eye to eye on their cases as skeptic and believer. And yet somehow they complemented each other. Somehow they wouldn't be able to do this job without each other. Monica had always been there for him-helping him, watching his back, loyal to him like no other. And yet she never hesitated to let him know her opinion. She was strong, independent, open minded, compassionate, and yes beautiful. Even after all the years of seeing the worst humanity had to offer, she still somehow kept her sunny disposition, her optimism, intact. She kept the ugliness, the darkness, that surrounded them at bay, from seeping into her heart. She would purse justice, purse the truth, no matter what the personal cost to herself. It was as his partner that John got to see this everyday. His admiration, his respect, his friendship towards her had grown into love.
Love. There he had thought it. He loved Monica. Of course he had known it for awhile. He had kept her at a distance. He had thought that she could do better than him and he hadn't allowed himself to be happy, to truly be happy, until they had found Luke's killer a couple of months ago. Since then, he had allowed her in more, a little at a time. They had spent more time together outside of work and yet he still hadn't told her that he loved her. She knew. She had to know didn't she? Still....
A phone was ringing which interrupted John's thoughts. At first he thought is was his home phone but after a few minutes he realized it was his cell. "John Doggett."
"Hello, Agent Doggett," said an unfamiliar female voice.
"Linda Bowman is that you?" demanded John angrily.
"Very good," said Linda smugly. "You really are an ACE detective aren't you."
"I wanna speak with Monica!"
"Yes, and I'm sure she'd love to speak with you too, but I'm afraid she's quite tied up right now. If you want to see your partner again I suggest that you meet me at the abandoned warehouse in the District on the corner of K and 20th. You should come alone."
"We've got yer cousin. We've got Robert. Monica better be alive or else....."
"Robert knew the risk of going to the hospital. You've got thirty minutes, Agent Doggett. The clock is ticking."
"How do I know you haven't hurt her?!"
"You don't. But you'd better hurry or else I just might." Bowman had ended the call.
