Title: Wednesday Happy Hour (Say Goodbye)
Author: Annie Wright (AnnieW177@aol.com)
Rating: PG
Category: Pre XF, DRR, some angst
Spoliers: none really
Disclaimer: No profit, no lawsuit.
Summary: "Every time we do this, it hurts a little less, and I walk outta here and drive out to Long Island feelin' a little more human than I did when I walked in here. And it's because of you."
Recommended Listening: 'Say Goodbye' by Dave Matthews Band (lyrics at the end)
Author's notes at the end.
Late August, 1997
7:42 am
As he knotted his tie, John Doggett felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was too soon to be going back to work and he knew it, but he had to get out of this house before he went mad. Sighing, he threw his suit coat on and headed down to the kitchen.
His wife sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper. She looked up only briefly, her eyes accusing and her face set in a look that had become all too familiar over the past several weeks. He knew why she was pissed off, and in all honesty he couldn't really blame her. They'd been drifting even before all this happened and this latest fight-about him returning to work three weeks after his son's murder-was just the latest in a string of increasingly bitter, hostile, petty arguments they'd been having. She said it was too soon, that he hadn't had time to mourn. He felt that no matter what, there'd never be enough time to mourn so he might as well suck it up and go back to work, do something more than sit and home and tinker with the lawnmower or the truck and feel useless.
"Mornin'."
Her smile was cursory at best, a tight, false smile. "Morning."
He took a mug out of the cupboard and filled it with coffee before sitting down at the table next to her. She didn't even look up as he sat.
"Barb?"
"Hm?"
"Look, I know you don't agree with my decision to go back to work…."
Her voice was curt. "Not like you even consulted me about this decision."
"Look, I explained to you, I have to get out of the house. I feel useless, not bein' at work." He sighed. "I know you don't understand, but don't be mad at me for not wantin' to sit around and mope."
Her silence was her reply.
"Fine." He got up and dumped his coffee in the sink, and grabbing his car keys, slammed the door behind him as he left.
12:45 PM
There was a knock on his office door, snapping him out of his daze. "C'mon in."
"Detective Doggett?"
He looked up and was surprised to find Special Agent Monica Reyes standing in his door. "Agent Reyes." He hadn't expected to see her again, although the surprise was not entirely unpleasant. She was a nice enough woman, a bit flaky but not malicious or mean or stupid, just different. "Come in."
She came in and sat down across from his desk, and he couldn't help put look at her long legs as she crossed them, her short skirt riding up her thighs.
"What can I do for the FBI today?" he asked. "Wasn't really expectin' to see any of you guys again."
"Well, I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."
"I'm fine."
Monica nodded. "I also wanted to let you know how incredibly sorry I am for your loss."
"Thank you."
After a pause, she spoke again. "And I also wanted to tell you that if you want to talk about it, I'd like to listen. I know that working on the case, we weren't exactly.…friends. But I know that a loss like yours can be devastating and quite often its hard to talk about to people who are experiencing the same loss." She sighed. "I know I must sound terribly forward, but I just wanted to let you know that if you want to talk, I'll listen." She stood and took a card out of her pocket. "That's my card, I put my home phone number on the back. Feel free to call anytime."
He took the card, fingering it for a moment before tucking it into his shirt pocket. "Thank you, Agent Reyes."
"Monica, please."
"Okay.…Monica." He paused, and then looked at her. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why you bein' so nice.…you don't even know me."
At that she shrugged, smiling. "I don't know. Does it bother you?"
John chuckled. "No…it's probably the best offer I've had since …." He let his voice trail off.
"Well, when you're ready to talk, call me." She smiled once more before walking out, shutting the door softly behind her.
Not a minute after she'd left, Duke knocked on the door. "Hey.…wasn't that the FBI chick?"
"Yeah."
"What's her name again? Ramos?"
"Reyes."
"Yeah, that's it." Duke sat down. "What did she want?"
John shrugged. "Offer condolences, the usual."
"She seems awfully….friendly." Duke waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Ah jeezus Duke, she's just bein' nice," John said, rolling his eyes. "She's a little young for me, don't ya think?"
"I dunno, Johnny.…she's not bad to look at. And she's gotta be smart, bein' in the FBI an' all."
John sighed. "Look, Duke, no offense but I'm really not in the mood for this."
Duke sighed as he stood. "Okay, Johnny. We're headin' to lunch in a bit, you comin' with?"
"Yeah, I'm in."
The moment Duke left, he took out Monica's card and looked at it for a moment before tucking it away in his top desk drawer.
Two Weeks Later
6:22 PM
"I have to admit I was surprised to hear from you," Monica said as she sipped her martini. "I didn't think you'd call."
"Me neither." John avoided her eyes as he sipped his beer.
"So why did you?"
"Dunno."
"That's not an answer." She lit a cigarette. "You called me to talk, so let's talk."
"'Bout what?"
"Hey, you called me. That's up to you."
He looked over at her, taking her in. He hadn't noticed before that she was pretty-as a rule he preferred blondes. She was pretty, though, with long dark hair and big eyes that weren't quite brown. She laughed under his scrutiny, and he noticed that her smile lit up her face and made her something more than just pretty, it made her lovely.
"Tell me about yourself, Monica."
"Me?" She chuckled. "What do you want to know?"
"Start at the beginning."
"Well, I was born in the US but adopted by a Mexican couple, who took me back to Mexico City with them. I was the youngest of three and the only girl. I attended Brown University, where I got my bachelor's and master's in religion with a specialization in cults, and was recruited by the FBI at graduation to work in the Behavioral Sciences Unit." She smiled. "That enough?"
John laughed. "I suppose."
"What about you?"
He sighed. "Born in Georgia, oldest of three boys. My dad was a native New Yorker, so we moved up here was I was about eight. Dad was a cop, Mom stayed at home. Joined the Marines, went to college on the GI Bill, married my college sweetheart, became a cop."
"College sweethearts?"
"Yeah. She was in my freshman Western Civ class. Got married right after graduation, then I went back to school and she started workin'." He gave her the once over again. "What about you? Married?"
Monica gave an unladylike snort. "Hardly."
"But you have a boyfriend." He thought for a moment. "That blond guy, looks like a Ken doll."
She blushed, and he knew he was right. "Yes."
"Figures."
"What figures?"
"You'd be with that guy."
"That guy has a name."
"Lemme guess, something outta some soap opera, right? Roman? Logan?"
She grinned. "Brad. But nice try."
"Brad. That fits."
"Why do you say that?"
"All pretty boys have names like that."
"Sissy names, you mean."
"You said it, not me."
She laughed again. "He's not a sissy, you have my word on that."
"What is it about guys like him?" John asked, more to his beer than to Monica.
"What do you mean, guys like him?"
"Oh come on, Monica, you know what I mean." He looked at her with a wry smile. "Good lookin', suave, soap opera name."
"I like to think I like Brad despite all those things."
"Well then, I guess I've been told."
"He's….I dunno. There's just something about him…a charisma, I guess."
"Right."
"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, John?"
"Maybe."
She burst out laughing. "Okay then, tell me what you have against guys like Brad."
He took a long swallow of beer before speaking. "Guys like that are always captain of the football team, they always date the head cheerleader, and they drive a sportscar. They go to college on some scholarship, where they date the most popular girl on campus, and then graduate and end up in some city with some job with a fancy title but no real work and sleepin' with the boss's wife."
"You sound jaded."
John laughed sadly. "Yeah.…I guess I am."
She sighed. "I'm sorry….that came out wrong."
"No…you're right. I am jaded. Bein' a cop will do that to ya." He gave her a look. "You're what, 25?"
"Twenty-eight, actually, but thank you for the compliment."
"I've been a cop for well over ten years now, and trust me when I tell ya that after a certain amount of time, bein' a cop will make you jaded. Even you, Miss Reyes. Ten years from now you're gonna wonder when you got so hard, so cynical. And you're gonna think back to this evening and say, well I'll be damned if that sonofabitch Doggett wasn't on the money."
Monica smiled. "I'd hardly call you a son of a bitch. Jackass, maybe."
He burst out laughing, and it felt good. But a wave of guilt washed over him and he stopped short, turning away from Monica's beautiful smiling face and back to his beer.
Monica put her hand on his arm. "It's okay to laugh, John."
"Doesn't feel that way."
"It will, eventually. It takes time to heal, to grieve. Give it some time, John."
He nodded. "I know."
She looked at her watch. "You'd better get going, don't want your wife to worry."
He laughed sadly. "Now that's funny." She gave him a quizzical look, and he shook his head. "That's a story for another night."
"Okay."
They stood, and he walked her outside. "Do you need a ride?"
"No, I live a few blocks away, I'm okay walking. But thank you." She smiled at him, and he noticed again how lovely her smile was. "I had a nice time tonight. I'd like to do it again."
"Me, too."
She touched his arm again and then walked down the street, her big bag slung over her shoulder. He watched her walk to the end of the block, then turned and walked to where he'd parked his car.
September 17, 1997
"Does your boyfriend know you're out with me?" John asked with a wry smile, sipping his beer.
"Does your wife know you're out with me?" she retorted, lighting a cigarette.
"Now that's a loaded question."
"You started it."
"Doubt she'd care." He was almost flippant about it.
"Now that I don't believe." She took a long drag before continuing. "It's another night."
"I was wondering when you were gonna get around to that."
"I'm all ears. If you want to talk about it."
He sighed. "We'd been drifting even before Luke was taken. She was sick of bein' a cop's wife, didn't like the danger. Wanted me to quit, go work in private sector. I didn't want to. She said I wasn't taking her needs into consideration, she didn't want to end up a widow with a young son. I said I provided for them, that I wasn't doin' beat work anymore an' my chances of bein' shot were low and that I wasn't quittin' my job because I loved it. She said I loved it more than my family."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. We don't even really talk anymore. All we do is fight."
"I'm sorry, John."
"Me, too."
"What are you going to do?"
"I know she's talked to a lawyer, I guess I'm just expectin' to go home from work one day and find her gone."
"That's so sad."
He looked up and saw real compassion in her eyes, and was moved. "Yeah, it is." He took a long swallow of beer. "Let's talk about somethin' else, okay?"
"Sure."
"How's things with Brick?"
"Brad." She gave him a look, but smiled. "Fine, thank you."
"Doesn't the Bureau have some kind of anti-fraternization policy or somethin'?"
"Yes." Monica smiled sheepishly.
"Well then, that can't be good."
She sipped her martini before lighting another cigarette. "Sometimes I wonder if it's the secrecy that makes it so exciting to be with Brad."
"Look at what it did for Romeo and Juliet."
"You're a help."
"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em."
"Seriously, though, I do have to wonder if that's part of the draw to him. We're not supposed to be together, and keeping it secret makes it that much more exciting."
"Suppose you get caught?"
"We'd probably be reassigned."
John nodded. "What is it about him that you like so much?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
She sighed and thought for a moment. "He's got this charisma about him, he's very self-assured. He's got this demeanor about him, like he's in charge all the time and he's always in control."
"And you like that."
"It's not bad."
"If you're describin' someone you're sleepin' with as 'not bad' then that is most definitely bad."
She laughed. "I didn't mean it that way. What I meant is…I tend to like authoritarian men, men who are in control. He fits the pattern."
"Oh, so he's part of a pattern."
"Come on, everyone has a type."
"Fair enough."
"Don't you."
He nodded. "Sure do."
"What is it?"
"I like blondes, long hair, blue eyes, in just about any size or shape God makes 'em."
"You like blondes, I like authoritarian men. What's so bad about that?"
"Likin' blondes is a world apart from likin' men who have power issues."
"Why?"
He smiled. "Preferrin' a hair color….that's nothin'. It just means I happen to like blonde women better than redheads or brunettes. It has nothin' to do with personality or psyche or anything else. I'd rather date a woman with a good personality but pink hair than a blonde with the personality of the Newark sewer system."
"And how is that different from me liking authoritarian men?"
"Because that's a personality trait, and preferrin' a personality trait like that is only gonna lead to one thing."
"What's that?" She was grinning now, clearly enjoying the conversation.
"Trouble."
"How do you figure?"
"He likes power…fair enough assessment?"
"Yeah."
"So one day bein' powerful at work ain't gonna be enough. He's gonna wanna feel powerful somewhere else. So he finds someplace else….could be the bedroom, could be in the car. He'll become manipulative, controlling. He'll get hostile, maybe violent. He'll start controllin' you….callin' all the time, wantin' to know where you are at all times, wantin' you to always be at his beck and call."
"Brad's not like that."
"You say that now, but mark my words.…it'll happen."
She fidgeted with her lighter. "No, he doesn't know I'm out with you."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's none of his business." He gave her a look and she chuckled. "Brad and I have our own lives, our own friends. Me being his girlfriend doesn't mean I can't meet a male friend for drinks if I choose."
"Fair enough."
She grinned. "I know what you're thinking."
"And what's that?"
"That this relationship is in trouble."
"You said it, not me." He turned to her. "Do you love him?"
She looked surprised, then sheepish. "I.…I don't know."
"You don't know if you love him?"
"I….I don't know if I've ever been 'in love'."
"Tell me something."
"John, I pretty much tell you anything you want to know."
"If you aren't sure you're in love with him, why are you with him?"
She picked up her martini, finished it, and signaled to the bartender for another, then lit a cigarette. "Because it's comfortable."
"In what way? Mon, it's gotta be a better explanation than that."
"It's comfortable in that we have a nice time together….he likes the theater, opera, museums, culture. He doesn't balk if I want to go to the ballet, he enjoys foreign films and Indian food and has interesting stories about his life." She took a long drag off her cigarette. "We have a lot in common."
"Familiarity breeds contempt."
"He treats me pretty well."
"Pretty well? Lemme guess.…pays when you go out, occasionally buys you something pretty or sexy or expensive, and has a pet name for you. Am I right?"
"And is any of that bad?"
"Mon, if you're with him because the sex is good and he treats you okay, you are sellin' yourself very short. You gotta have more than sex."
"We do."
"Likin' curry and foreign films is nothin'. My partner and I both like steak and 'Die Hard' movies and ya don't see me out screwin' him."
She laughed. "John, stop."
"What? I'm serious." He finished off his beer in one long swallow. "It's what you have in common that counts. It's how you deal with things, with adversity. My wife and I have a lot in common but we discovered too late that we don't have the right things in common." He saw she was upset, and mentally he kicked himself. "I'm not tryin' to be a killjoy, Mon. I just don't want you to go through what I'm goin' through now."
"I know. And I appreciate it."
The bartender came by, and John asked for the check.
"Can I ask you a question, John?"
"Yeah."
"How do you know….when you're in love?" She bit her lip anxiously. "I mean, I think I've been in love but I don't know.…I'm not sure I know what it feels like. I don't think I'd know I was even if I was in the throes of it."
He placed a wad of bills under the ashtray and turned to her, his face serious. "It's different for everyone, Mon. But trust me when I say that you'll know."
She nodded. "Okay."
"Not much help, I know."
"No….more help than you think." She smiled. "Thanks for the drinks."
"My pleasure. Next week's on you."
"Deal."
He walked her out front, and as always, watched her walk to the corner. But instead of turning around and walking towards his car, he watched her disappear into the darkness until she was unrecognizable to him before turning and walking away.
October 15, 1997
"She's gone."
Monica stopped, her cigarette halfway to her mouth. "When?"
"Last Thursday. I got home and there was a note." He took a long swallow of beer. "I knew it was comin', I just didn't think it would be this soon."
"Oh, John," Monica said, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you call me?"
"Figured you'd be out with Brick."
"I was, but I would have talked to you."
"You must really be worried if you aren't even gonna correct me for gettin' his name wrong."
"Yes, I am." She sighed. "What did the note say?"
"The usual…'We're not working out, I need some time' blah blah blah."
"Do you know where she went?"
"Yeah….her folks live out near Jones Beach. She went there."
"Are you okay?"
He shrugged. "I can't say I didn't see it comin' a mile away."
"That's not what I asked. I asked if you were okay."
"I guess."
"That's the John Doggett way of saying 'no'."
At that, he chuckled. "You catch on quick, FBI."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's left to say? It's been comin'."
Monica lit her cigarette. "How do you feel about it?"
"I don't even know." He took her pack of cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it, inhaling deeply. "Sad. Angry. Hurt."
"Why angry?"
"'Cause my wife seems to think she's the only one who's sufferin'."
"Why do you say that?"
"When I decided to go back to work, she got mad at me, was sayin' I hadn't had enough time to…mourn. But I was so sick an' tired of sittin' around the house eatin' all this food people had brought-most of which was awful-and tryin' to make myself feel useful. I needed to be workin', needed somethin' to put my back up against. So we fought about that. She seems to think I'm not sad because I want to work, but she doesn't understand that me workin' is givin' me somethin' more to focus on that the fact that my son is dead." He took a long swallow of beer. "My son is dead. That's not somethin' I can fix, and it's somethin' I'll think about every day for the rest of my life. But I need to deal with it my way, and she doesn't seem to understand."
"Are you sure you are dealing with it?"
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to not feel?" The tips of his ears turned red, and she mentally cringed. "Not that you don't feel it, but is going back to work, immersing yourself in it, a way to numb the pain instead of working through it?"
"I'm gonna be real honest with you, Mon, so I hope you don't get all upset on me, but seein' you hurts like a bitch. Seein' you is a constant reminder that my son is dead, because you're the one who found him. But I do it because it helps me, because I know it's somethin' I need to feel, and because in some twisted way, bein' your friend even though you are a constant reminder that my son is dead is the best therapy for me." He took a long drag off the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "Seein' you reminds me that life goes on, with or without my son. And it's somethin' I need to be reminded of as often as possible."
Monica bit her lip. "I didn't know seeing me was so painful. Maybe we'd best not meet again."
"No, you misunderstand. I need to see you, even though it hurts. I'm workin' through the pain by bein' here, by seein' you." He turned to her and for the first time in their friendship, he touched her, his hand grasping hers. "Every time we do this, it hurts a little less, and I walk outta here and drive out to Long Island feelin' a little more human than I did when I walked in here. And it's because of you." He smiled at her. "I look forward to Wednesday nights because you are the only person who doesn't treat me like I got some kinda disease, who will ask me how I feel and want the whole truth. It's almost like I need these Wednesday nights with you, because it's the only way I get through the week sometimes."
"Wow." Monica laughed embarrassedly. "I had no idea."
"Now you do." He let go of her hand and lit another cigarette.
"I think that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"Then your man Brick needs some help."
"Brad." She grinned. "Will you ever get his name right?"
"I know what his name is just fine. I choose not to use it."
"Why not?"
He turned to her. "You ready for this?"
"More honesty? Don't know if I can handle it. You're pretty brutal, John."
"Tell me now or forever hold your peace."
"Go ahead, I can take it."
"I never get his name right because callin' him somethin' else makes you laugh, and I like seein' you laugh because you have a beautiful smile."
Monica sat frozen for a moment, stunned. "Now that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Damn, and here I was, hopin' to leave you speechless."
"Are you flirting with me?"
"I'm a married man, Agent Reyes. And you have a Ken-doll boyfriend."
"You are." Her grin was as wide as her face. "John Doggett, you're a big flirt!"
"It's been a long time, I'm afraid I'm kinda rusty."
"Rusty my ass."
"And that's my cue to leave." John stood. "I make a comment about your ass and they'll be takin' me home in an ambulance, am I right?"
"Probably." Monica paid the bill and they walked through the bar to the street.
"See ya next week," John said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.
Monica turned to go, but turned back around and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm so glad we're friends," she whispered to him, before taking off down the street.
Stunned, John stood there, still able to feel her lips on his cheek. "Me, too," he said to himself. "Me, too."
October 22
"I have a proposition for you."
John laughed. "The FBI not payin' you enough you gotta moonlight as a hooker?"
"Shut up!" Monica reached into her big bag and pulled out a dark blue folder. "Can we please be serious for a moment?"
"Sorry, go ahead, I'm all ears."
Monica grinned. "Not a truer word was spoken."
"I asked for that."
"You did." She set the folder down on the bar. "Have you ever considered becoming an FBI agent?"
"What?"
"The FBI is looking for people, and you've got all the qualifications. Former Marine, college educated, law enforcement experience. The FBI would kill to have you."
"I dunno, Mon."
"For what it's worth, I think you'd be a great agent. And I think you should apply."
"Why's that?"
"Change is good, John." She nudged him playfully with her foot. "Besides, it's a hell of a lot more exciting than the NYPD, and much better pay."
"And I don't have anything tying me down anymore."
"Well, yeah. Look, John, it's like being a cop on a much larger scale. I think you'd like it. Will you at least think about it?"
"I guess."
She sighed. "I don't like to play this card, but I don't see that you've left me any choice. In the FBI, you can catch people like the one who killed Luke. You can help prevent what happened to you and to your son on a much larger scale."
His eyes narrowed. "Ah Mon, why'd you have to go there?"
"Because the FBI needs you, John. And I think you'll find that you need the FBI."
"You really think I should do this?"
"I don't think it, I know it." She grinned. "I brought you some paperwork, if you fill it out now I'll take it to my AD in the morning and we can set you up an interview."
He chuckled. "Why do I have a feeling this was all a giant ploy to get me into the FBI?"
"Damn, you figured me out." She handed him a pen. "Now let's get going on this, John. We don't want to waste any more time."
November 7
8:30 pm
"A Friday night happy hour….what, Brick outta town and you can't find another date?" John asked with a smile.
"Shut up."
"Did I hit a nerve?"
She laughed. "He is out of town, yes. But I felt bad about missing Wednesday." She sipped her martini. "How was your interview?"
"I think it went well. That background check is gonna be a bitch."
"I don't think it will take that long for you, considering you're already a cop. I bet you'll hear before Christmas." She held up her glass. "Well, here's hoping."
They clinked glasses.
"Drink up, it's a celebration," she said, draining her martini.
"I gotta drive home, remember."
"You can sleep on my couch." He looked hesitant, and she sighed. "What do you have to be on Long Island for? Come on, it'll be fine, you can drive home in the morning."
He nodded. "Deal." He drained his beer and signaled for another.
Monica's Apartment
2:30 am
A loud rumble woke John out of his alcohol induced slumber and he sat bolt upright, looking around confusedly for a moment. Then he remembered he was at Monica's apartment-they'd both had a lot to drink and she'd offered to let him sleep on her sofa. Through the window he could see the flashes of lightening, and seconds later the claps of thunder so loud the shook the building. He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, now wide awake.
He heard a noise and turned his head slightly. Monica stood by the window, watching the storm. Her arms were folded in front of her and she leaned against the wall, staring outside intently, shivering in only her dark satin nightgown. Every flash of lightening lit her face briefly, and John could see that she was deep in thought.
He didn't know what possessed him, but he rose and went over to her, standing on the other side of the window. "Penny for your thoughts."
She smiled. "I love storms. I always have."
"You look sad."
She shook her head. "No, just.…pensive."
"Brad?"
"Yeah."
"What about him?"
She smiled sadly. "I don't even know."
"Do you miss him?"
"Not really." She looked at him, and her dark eyes glinted in the dim light. "I was just thinking about how I had a better time with you tonight than I have with Brad in a very long time."
"I think that's a sign, Mon."
"I think you're right." She turned back to the window.
Without thinking, John reached out and pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, tracing her ear with his finger. She turned to him, her eyes wide, and stepped forward. "John…."
"You're so beautiful."
A lone tear fell down her cheek. "You know how you told me I'd know when I was in love?"
He nodded, wiping her tear away.
"I know," she whispered, rising up on her toes and kissing him. "I know."
November 8
8:45 am
Monica rolled over, surprised to find John still in bed. He was wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
"I didn't think you'd stay," she said.
He turned his head to look at her. "I didn't wanna leave. I couldn't do that to you." She smiled, and he rolled over and touched her face. "Darlin', this was bad."
"I thought it was pretty fantastic, myself."
He laughed. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." She sighed. "Things won't change, John. We're still friends. We just…needed each other last night. And it's okay."
"It was wrong of me to let it happen. I don't want you to think I used you."
"I don't."
He sighed. "Let me take you to dinner tonight."
"Why do I sense a scene from When Harry Met Sally coming on?"
John smiled. "No, not at all. I just….I want to."
"Okay."
He stood and walked to the living room, and she heard the faint sounds of him dressing. He reappeared by the bed a few moments later, suit coat thrown over his arm. "I'll be by around 7, okay?"
She nodded.
He kissed her forehead tenderly, then turned and walked out.
She waited until she heard the front door close before bursting into tears.
9:45 pm
He put the car in park and got out, walking around to open the car door for her.
"Thank you for dinner," she said, smiling up at him. "Went better than I expected."
"Same." He sighed. "God, Mon, I'm a jackass."
"No." She reached out and stroked his face. "You're human."
"I used you."
"I don't feel used." She smiled. "We're still friends, John. Nothing's changed. We'll still meet on Wednesdays for drinks, you'll still call Brad Brick and I'll still correct you every time. We're still John and Monica, we're still friends."
He pulled her into a tight hug. "Brick doesn't know how good he has it, havin' you."
"I know." Her voice was muffled by his coat.
"I just….I'm not ready, Mon. It's too soon."
"I know."
His hand went to her hair and he stroked it, placing kisses on top of her head. "I'm a jerk, Monica, and I can't bear the thought that I've hurt you."
"It's okay, John."
"No, it's not."
"It is." She pulled back to look at him, and he could see tears streaming down her face. "It's okay. I'm okay."
"Then why are you cryin'?"
"I don't know."
He wiped her tears away with his thumb. "I never meant for this to happen."
"I know. It was just the wrong time."
"That's an understatement." He sighed. "We'll be okay."
"Yes. We will."
"What will you tell Brad?"
"Nothing."
He nodded. "Good idea."
She smiled at him. "I should go."
"Yeah."
"See you Wednesday?"
"Wouldn't miss it." He kissed her forehead. "You're an amazin' woman, Monica Reyes."
She smiled before turning and walking inside her building.
December 17
"I got good news."
Monica set her bag down, grinning. "What?"
He held up a letter from the FBI. "Go ahead, read it."
With a grin she grabbed the envelope and read the letter. "You got it! I'm so happy for you!" She enveloped him in a hug. "I told you. Let's celebrate."
"Thanks for all your help," he said, sipping his beer. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Nonsense." She smiled. "When do you leave for Quantico?"
"I report January 5,but I'm leavin' the second to see if I can find a place to live when I get out of the Academy."
"That's not much time."
"Yeah, I know."
Her eyes clouded over briefly. "I won't get to see you before you go."
"Why not?"
"My flight leaves on the 22nd. I won't be back before you leave."
"Oh."
Her smile was sad. "I guess this is goodbye then."
"Can I take you to the airport, or is that honor reserved for Brick?"
Despite herself, she laughed. "No, Brad's already left for England."
"So then I can take you?"
"No, don't worry about it, I don't want to put you out."
"I want to." He reached out and took her hand. "It would be a pleasure."
"Nobody thinks going to the airport is a pleasure, John." She grinned. "But if you want to yes, I'd like that."
"Then it's a deal."
Kennedy International Airport
December 22
11:32 am
"Flight 331 to Mexico City will begin boarding in five minutes." The voice boomed over the loudspeaker and John and Monica exchanged glances.
Monica stood. "That's me."
"I, uh, I've got somethin' for ya." He pulled a package out of his pocket, wrapped in bright red paper. "It's not much…."
She smiled. "I'm sure it's perfect, whatever it is. Can I open it now?"
"Wait for Christmas."
"Spoilsport." She laughed. "Yours will be arriving any day, so keep an eye on the mail."
"Will do."
Her eyes filled unexpectedly with tears. "Try and have a good holiday, okay? You have plans?"
"Yeah….my folks live out in Westchester County, I'm gonna go there."
"Good." She paused. "I guess this is goodbye then."
John swallowed hard, then pulled her into a hug. "Not goodbye. We'll keep in touch."
"Wednesdays are going to be dull without you."
"You'll find some other cop to annoy."
She laughed. "I'm going to miss you, John."
"I'm gonna miss you too, Mon." He kissed her cheek before letting her go. "Take care, you hear me?"
She nodded. "You too." She reached out and stroked his cheek gently before walking to the gate.
He stood there until the plane took off, watching it taxi down the runway with a sad, hollow feeling in his stomach. He waited until the plane was a dot in the sky before walking back to his car, unwilling to believe she was gone.
When he slid into the driver's seat, the smell of her perfume wafted over him. Suddenly he was filled with a gaping sadness, and unable to stop himself, he wept.
Christmas Day
9:30 am
He was just about to walk out the door when the phone rang. He debated whether or not to answer, but decided to answer it.
"Merry Christmas." Monica's voice greeted him, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Monica?" The long-distance crackled over the phone line. "Whaddaya doin', callin' from Mexico?"
"I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I wanted….to know how you were doing. Did you get your gift?"
He laughed. "Very creative. I assume that the martini glass is to be saved for your use only."
"Damn right." He could hear her smile over the phone line. "And I love my book, John. I had no idea you knew who Khalil Gibran was."
"What, ya think just 'cause I'm a cop I'm ignorant?"
"John, you have unsuspected depth."
"I try."
"Well, it's perfect. I love it."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"I, uh, I gotta go.…but I just wanted to say Merry Christmas."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"It's good to hear your voice."
A lump filled his throat. "Yours too."
He hung up, sighing heavily, and stared at the phone a moment before picking his keys up and leaving.
June, 1998
Quantico, VA
She spotted John at the other end of the room-she'd know those ears anywhere. Squeezing between people, she approached him from behind and whispered in his ear, "Buy me a martini?"
He spun around, grinning. "What are you doin' here?" He pulled her into a hug, inhaling her scent deeply. She felt familiar, fit in his arms the way she always had.
"I came to see you graduate. I hid in the back so you wouldn't see me."
"It worked. God it's good to see ya again, Mon."
"Good to see you too."
He pulled back. "Can I buy you dinner?"
"I wish." She smiled sadly. "I have to be back in New York tonight…I promised my AD I wouldn't be gone more than a day."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I know. My flight leaves in two hours, so I can't even really stay. I just.…I wanted to say congratulations. I'm proud of you."
"I'm glad you could come."
This time it was she who pulled him into a hug. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, John." She kissed his cheek. "I miss you."
"I miss you, too."
"Do you know what office you'll be at?"
"They're puttin' me at headquarters."
"Not New York?"
"No, said they wanted me to work out of Washington."
"Well now I have an excuse to come to Washington more often."
"You'd better."
"I gotta get going." She smiled at him. "Call me."
"I will."
He watched her walk away again….he felt like all he had ever done was watch her walk away. But this time, instead of feeling a gaping sadness, he felt something he thought he had long forgotten how to feel.
Loved.
Say Goodbye-Dave Matthews Band
So here we are tonight, you and me together
The storm outside, the fire is bright
And in your eyes I see what's on my mind
You've got me wild, turned around inside
And then desire, see, is creeping up heavy inside here
And know you feel the same way I do now
Now let's make this an evening
Lovers for a night, lovers for tonight
Stay here with me, love, tonight, just for an evening
When we make our passion pictures
You and me twist up, secret creatures
And we'll stay here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Go back to being friends
But tonight let's be lovers, we kiss and sweat
We'll turn this better thing to the best
Of all we can offer, just a rogue kiss
Tangled tongues and lips, see me this way
I'm turning and turning for you
Girl, just tonight
Float away here with me
An evening, just wait and see
But tomorrow go back to your man
I'm back to my world
And we're back to being friends
Wait and see me, tonight let's do this thing
All we are is wasting hours until the
Sun comes up, it's all ours
On our way here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Go back to being friends
Tonight let's be lovers, Say you will
And hear me call, soft-spoken whispering love
A thing or two I have to say here
Tonight let's go all the way then
Love I'll see you just for this evening
Let's strip down, trip out at this
One evening starts with a kiss
Run away
And tomorrow back to being friends
Lovers…love…lovers
Just for tonight, one night-love you
And tomorrow say goodbye
Author's Notes:
Damn, this is one long story. And I am so glad it's done. :)
Before you all get nit-picky, I know that an FBI background check takes at LEAST 6 months. However, for my own personal timeline's sake, I shortened it. I have three words for you if you have issues with this-suspend your disbelief. You can do it!
I have no idea how long the training at the FBI Academy is, so I'm assuming it's roughly six months. See above if you have issues with this.
If you haven't heard 'Say Goodbye' by the Dave Matthews Band…go download it. It really fits John and Monica (so I think) and I found it really inspiring. 'Crash' is just a kick ass album anyway, but this song especially.
Many thanks to my wonderful betas, Sarah and Lisa…your help is invaluable. Also thanks to the people who send feedback, it really keeps me going. :) Watch for the sequel (tentatively titled 'Least Complicated') coming soon to a fic site near you!
Author: Annie Wright (AnnieW177@aol.com)
Rating: PG
Category: Pre XF, DRR, some angst
Spoliers: none really
Disclaimer: No profit, no lawsuit.
Summary: "Every time we do this, it hurts a little less, and I walk outta here and drive out to Long Island feelin' a little more human than I did when I walked in here. And it's because of you."
Recommended Listening: 'Say Goodbye' by Dave Matthews Band (lyrics at the end)
Author's notes at the end.
Late August, 1997
7:42 am
As he knotted his tie, John Doggett felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was too soon to be going back to work and he knew it, but he had to get out of this house before he went mad. Sighing, he threw his suit coat on and headed down to the kitchen.
His wife sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper. She looked up only briefly, her eyes accusing and her face set in a look that had become all too familiar over the past several weeks. He knew why she was pissed off, and in all honesty he couldn't really blame her. They'd been drifting even before all this happened and this latest fight-about him returning to work three weeks after his son's murder-was just the latest in a string of increasingly bitter, hostile, petty arguments they'd been having. She said it was too soon, that he hadn't had time to mourn. He felt that no matter what, there'd never be enough time to mourn so he might as well suck it up and go back to work, do something more than sit and home and tinker with the lawnmower or the truck and feel useless.
"Mornin'."
Her smile was cursory at best, a tight, false smile. "Morning."
He took a mug out of the cupboard and filled it with coffee before sitting down at the table next to her. She didn't even look up as he sat.
"Barb?"
"Hm?"
"Look, I know you don't agree with my decision to go back to work…."
Her voice was curt. "Not like you even consulted me about this decision."
"Look, I explained to you, I have to get out of the house. I feel useless, not bein' at work." He sighed. "I know you don't understand, but don't be mad at me for not wantin' to sit around and mope."
Her silence was her reply.
"Fine." He got up and dumped his coffee in the sink, and grabbing his car keys, slammed the door behind him as he left.
12:45 PM
There was a knock on his office door, snapping him out of his daze. "C'mon in."
"Detective Doggett?"
He looked up and was surprised to find Special Agent Monica Reyes standing in his door. "Agent Reyes." He hadn't expected to see her again, although the surprise was not entirely unpleasant. She was a nice enough woman, a bit flaky but not malicious or mean or stupid, just different. "Come in."
She came in and sat down across from his desk, and he couldn't help put look at her long legs as she crossed them, her short skirt riding up her thighs.
"What can I do for the FBI today?" he asked. "Wasn't really expectin' to see any of you guys again."
"Well, I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."
"I'm fine."
Monica nodded. "I also wanted to let you know how incredibly sorry I am for your loss."
"Thank you."
After a pause, she spoke again. "And I also wanted to tell you that if you want to talk about it, I'd like to listen. I know that working on the case, we weren't exactly.…friends. But I know that a loss like yours can be devastating and quite often its hard to talk about to people who are experiencing the same loss." She sighed. "I know I must sound terribly forward, but I just wanted to let you know that if you want to talk, I'll listen." She stood and took a card out of her pocket. "That's my card, I put my home phone number on the back. Feel free to call anytime."
He took the card, fingering it for a moment before tucking it into his shirt pocket. "Thank you, Agent Reyes."
"Monica, please."
"Okay.…Monica." He paused, and then looked at her. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why you bein' so nice.…you don't even know me."
At that she shrugged, smiling. "I don't know. Does it bother you?"
John chuckled. "No…it's probably the best offer I've had since …." He let his voice trail off.
"Well, when you're ready to talk, call me." She smiled once more before walking out, shutting the door softly behind her.
Not a minute after she'd left, Duke knocked on the door. "Hey.…wasn't that the FBI chick?"
"Yeah."
"What's her name again? Ramos?"
"Reyes."
"Yeah, that's it." Duke sat down. "What did she want?"
John shrugged. "Offer condolences, the usual."
"She seems awfully….friendly." Duke waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Ah jeezus Duke, she's just bein' nice," John said, rolling his eyes. "She's a little young for me, don't ya think?"
"I dunno, Johnny.…she's not bad to look at. And she's gotta be smart, bein' in the FBI an' all."
John sighed. "Look, Duke, no offense but I'm really not in the mood for this."
Duke sighed as he stood. "Okay, Johnny. We're headin' to lunch in a bit, you comin' with?"
"Yeah, I'm in."
The moment Duke left, he took out Monica's card and looked at it for a moment before tucking it away in his top desk drawer.
Two Weeks Later
6:22 PM
"I have to admit I was surprised to hear from you," Monica said as she sipped her martini. "I didn't think you'd call."
"Me neither." John avoided her eyes as he sipped his beer.
"So why did you?"
"Dunno."
"That's not an answer." She lit a cigarette. "You called me to talk, so let's talk."
"'Bout what?"
"Hey, you called me. That's up to you."
He looked over at her, taking her in. He hadn't noticed before that she was pretty-as a rule he preferred blondes. She was pretty, though, with long dark hair and big eyes that weren't quite brown. She laughed under his scrutiny, and he noticed that her smile lit up her face and made her something more than just pretty, it made her lovely.
"Tell me about yourself, Monica."
"Me?" She chuckled. "What do you want to know?"
"Start at the beginning."
"Well, I was born in the US but adopted by a Mexican couple, who took me back to Mexico City with them. I was the youngest of three and the only girl. I attended Brown University, where I got my bachelor's and master's in religion with a specialization in cults, and was recruited by the FBI at graduation to work in the Behavioral Sciences Unit." She smiled. "That enough?"
John laughed. "I suppose."
"What about you?"
He sighed. "Born in Georgia, oldest of three boys. My dad was a native New Yorker, so we moved up here was I was about eight. Dad was a cop, Mom stayed at home. Joined the Marines, went to college on the GI Bill, married my college sweetheart, became a cop."
"College sweethearts?"
"Yeah. She was in my freshman Western Civ class. Got married right after graduation, then I went back to school and she started workin'." He gave her the once over again. "What about you? Married?"
Monica gave an unladylike snort. "Hardly."
"But you have a boyfriend." He thought for a moment. "That blond guy, looks like a Ken doll."
She blushed, and he knew he was right. "Yes."
"Figures."
"What figures?"
"You'd be with that guy."
"That guy has a name."
"Lemme guess, something outta some soap opera, right? Roman? Logan?"
She grinned. "Brad. But nice try."
"Brad. That fits."
"Why do you say that?"
"All pretty boys have names like that."
"Sissy names, you mean."
"You said it, not me."
She laughed again. "He's not a sissy, you have my word on that."
"What is it about guys like him?" John asked, more to his beer than to Monica.
"What do you mean, guys like him?"
"Oh come on, Monica, you know what I mean." He looked at her with a wry smile. "Good lookin', suave, soap opera name."
"I like to think I like Brad despite all those things."
"Well then, I guess I've been told."
"He's….I dunno. There's just something about him…a charisma, I guess."
"Right."
"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, John?"
"Maybe."
She burst out laughing. "Okay then, tell me what you have against guys like Brad."
He took a long swallow of beer before speaking. "Guys like that are always captain of the football team, they always date the head cheerleader, and they drive a sportscar. They go to college on some scholarship, where they date the most popular girl on campus, and then graduate and end up in some city with some job with a fancy title but no real work and sleepin' with the boss's wife."
"You sound jaded."
John laughed sadly. "Yeah.…I guess I am."
She sighed. "I'm sorry….that came out wrong."
"No…you're right. I am jaded. Bein' a cop will do that to ya." He gave her a look. "You're what, 25?"
"Twenty-eight, actually, but thank you for the compliment."
"I've been a cop for well over ten years now, and trust me when I tell ya that after a certain amount of time, bein' a cop will make you jaded. Even you, Miss Reyes. Ten years from now you're gonna wonder when you got so hard, so cynical. And you're gonna think back to this evening and say, well I'll be damned if that sonofabitch Doggett wasn't on the money."
Monica smiled. "I'd hardly call you a son of a bitch. Jackass, maybe."
He burst out laughing, and it felt good. But a wave of guilt washed over him and he stopped short, turning away from Monica's beautiful smiling face and back to his beer.
Monica put her hand on his arm. "It's okay to laugh, John."
"Doesn't feel that way."
"It will, eventually. It takes time to heal, to grieve. Give it some time, John."
He nodded. "I know."
She looked at her watch. "You'd better get going, don't want your wife to worry."
He laughed sadly. "Now that's funny." She gave him a quizzical look, and he shook his head. "That's a story for another night."
"Okay."
They stood, and he walked her outside. "Do you need a ride?"
"No, I live a few blocks away, I'm okay walking. But thank you." She smiled at him, and he noticed again how lovely her smile was. "I had a nice time tonight. I'd like to do it again."
"Me, too."
She touched his arm again and then walked down the street, her big bag slung over her shoulder. He watched her walk to the end of the block, then turned and walked to where he'd parked his car.
September 17, 1997
"Does your boyfriend know you're out with me?" John asked with a wry smile, sipping his beer.
"Does your wife know you're out with me?" she retorted, lighting a cigarette.
"Now that's a loaded question."
"You started it."
"Doubt she'd care." He was almost flippant about it.
"Now that I don't believe." She took a long drag before continuing. "It's another night."
"I was wondering when you were gonna get around to that."
"I'm all ears. If you want to talk about it."
He sighed. "We'd been drifting even before Luke was taken. She was sick of bein' a cop's wife, didn't like the danger. Wanted me to quit, go work in private sector. I didn't want to. She said I wasn't taking her needs into consideration, she didn't want to end up a widow with a young son. I said I provided for them, that I wasn't doin' beat work anymore an' my chances of bein' shot were low and that I wasn't quittin' my job because I loved it. She said I loved it more than my family."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. We don't even really talk anymore. All we do is fight."
"I'm sorry, John."
"Me, too."
"What are you going to do?"
"I know she's talked to a lawyer, I guess I'm just expectin' to go home from work one day and find her gone."
"That's so sad."
He looked up and saw real compassion in her eyes, and was moved. "Yeah, it is." He took a long swallow of beer. "Let's talk about somethin' else, okay?"
"Sure."
"How's things with Brick?"
"Brad." She gave him a look, but smiled. "Fine, thank you."
"Doesn't the Bureau have some kind of anti-fraternization policy or somethin'?"
"Yes." Monica smiled sheepishly.
"Well then, that can't be good."
She sipped her martini before lighting another cigarette. "Sometimes I wonder if it's the secrecy that makes it so exciting to be with Brad."
"Look at what it did for Romeo and Juliet."
"You're a help."
"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em."
"Seriously, though, I do have to wonder if that's part of the draw to him. We're not supposed to be together, and keeping it secret makes it that much more exciting."
"Suppose you get caught?"
"We'd probably be reassigned."
John nodded. "What is it about him that you like so much?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
She sighed and thought for a moment. "He's got this charisma about him, he's very self-assured. He's got this demeanor about him, like he's in charge all the time and he's always in control."
"And you like that."
"It's not bad."
"If you're describin' someone you're sleepin' with as 'not bad' then that is most definitely bad."
She laughed. "I didn't mean it that way. What I meant is…I tend to like authoritarian men, men who are in control. He fits the pattern."
"Oh, so he's part of a pattern."
"Come on, everyone has a type."
"Fair enough."
"Don't you."
He nodded. "Sure do."
"What is it?"
"I like blondes, long hair, blue eyes, in just about any size or shape God makes 'em."
"You like blondes, I like authoritarian men. What's so bad about that?"
"Likin' blondes is a world apart from likin' men who have power issues."
"Why?"
He smiled. "Preferrin' a hair color….that's nothin'. It just means I happen to like blonde women better than redheads or brunettes. It has nothin' to do with personality or psyche or anything else. I'd rather date a woman with a good personality but pink hair than a blonde with the personality of the Newark sewer system."
"And how is that different from me liking authoritarian men?"
"Because that's a personality trait, and preferrin' a personality trait like that is only gonna lead to one thing."
"What's that?" She was grinning now, clearly enjoying the conversation.
"Trouble."
"How do you figure?"
"He likes power…fair enough assessment?"
"Yeah."
"So one day bein' powerful at work ain't gonna be enough. He's gonna wanna feel powerful somewhere else. So he finds someplace else….could be the bedroom, could be in the car. He'll become manipulative, controlling. He'll get hostile, maybe violent. He'll start controllin' you….callin' all the time, wantin' to know where you are at all times, wantin' you to always be at his beck and call."
"Brad's not like that."
"You say that now, but mark my words.…it'll happen."
She fidgeted with her lighter. "No, he doesn't know I'm out with you."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's none of his business." He gave her a look and she chuckled. "Brad and I have our own lives, our own friends. Me being his girlfriend doesn't mean I can't meet a male friend for drinks if I choose."
"Fair enough."
She grinned. "I know what you're thinking."
"And what's that?"
"That this relationship is in trouble."
"You said it, not me." He turned to her. "Do you love him?"
She looked surprised, then sheepish. "I.…I don't know."
"You don't know if you love him?"
"I….I don't know if I've ever been 'in love'."
"Tell me something."
"John, I pretty much tell you anything you want to know."
"If you aren't sure you're in love with him, why are you with him?"
She picked up her martini, finished it, and signaled to the bartender for another, then lit a cigarette. "Because it's comfortable."
"In what way? Mon, it's gotta be a better explanation than that."
"It's comfortable in that we have a nice time together….he likes the theater, opera, museums, culture. He doesn't balk if I want to go to the ballet, he enjoys foreign films and Indian food and has interesting stories about his life." She took a long drag off her cigarette. "We have a lot in common."
"Familiarity breeds contempt."
"He treats me pretty well."
"Pretty well? Lemme guess.…pays when you go out, occasionally buys you something pretty or sexy or expensive, and has a pet name for you. Am I right?"
"And is any of that bad?"
"Mon, if you're with him because the sex is good and he treats you okay, you are sellin' yourself very short. You gotta have more than sex."
"We do."
"Likin' curry and foreign films is nothin'. My partner and I both like steak and 'Die Hard' movies and ya don't see me out screwin' him."
She laughed. "John, stop."
"What? I'm serious." He finished off his beer in one long swallow. "It's what you have in common that counts. It's how you deal with things, with adversity. My wife and I have a lot in common but we discovered too late that we don't have the right things in common." He saw she was upset, and mentally he kicked himself. "I'm not tryin' to be a killjoy, Mon. I just don't want you to go through what I'm goin' through now."
"I know. And I appreciate it."
The bartender came by, and John asked for the check.
"Can I ask you a question, John?"
"Yeah."
"How do you know….when you're in love?" She bit her lip anxiously. "I mean, I think I've been in love but I don't know.…I'm not sure I know what it feels like. I don't think I'd know I was even if I was in the throes of it."
He placed a wad of bills under the ashtray and turned to her, his face serious. "It's different for everyone, Mon. But trust me when I say that you'll know."
She nodded. "Okay."
"Not much help, I know."
"No….more help than you think." She smiled. "Thanks for the drinks."
"My pleasure. Next week's on you."
"Deal."
He walked her out front, and as always, watched her walk to the corner. But instead of turning around and walking towards his car, he watched her disappear into the darkness until she was unrecognizable to him before turning and walking away.
October 15, 1997
"She's gone."
Monica stopped, her cigarette halfway to her mouth. "When?"
"Last Thursday. I got home and there was a note." He took a long swallow of beer. "I knew it was comin', I just didn't think it would be this soon."
"Oh, John," Monica said, placing her hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you call me?"
"Figured you'd be out with Brick."
"I was, but I would have talked to you."
"You must really be worried if you aren't even gonna correct me for gettin' his name wrong."
"Yes, I am." She sighed. "What did the note say?"
"The usual…'We're not working out, I need some time' blah blah blah."
"Do you know where she went?"
"Yeah….her folks live out near Jones Beach. She went there."
"Are you okay?"
He shrugged. "I can't say I didn't see it comin' a mile away."
"That's not what I asked. I asked if you were okay."
"I guess."
"That's the John Doggett way of saying 'no'."
At that, he chuckled. "You catch on quick, FBI."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"What's left to say? It's been comin'."
Monica lit her cigarette. "How do you feel about it?"
"I don't even know." He took her pack of cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it, inhaling deeply. "Sad. Angry. Hurt."
"Why angry?"
"'Cause my wife seems to think she's the only one who's sufferin'."
"Why do you say that?"
"When I decided to go back to work, she got mad at me, was sayin' I hadn't had enough time to…mourn. But I was so sick an' tired of sittin' around the house eatin' all this food people had brought-most of which was awful-and tryin' to make myself feel useful. I needed to be workin', needed somethin' to put my back up against. So we fought about that. She seems to think I'm not sad because I want to work, but she doesn't understand that me workin' is givin' me somethin' more to focus on that the fact that my son is dead." He took a long swallow of beer. "My son is dead. That's not somethin' I can fix, and it's somethin' I'll think about every day for the rest of my life. But I need to deal with it my way, and she doesn't seem to understand."
"Are you sure you are dealing with it?"
"Whaddaya mean?"
"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to not feel?" The tips of his ears turned red, and she mentally cringed. "Not that you don't feel it, but is going back to work, immersing yourself in it, a way to numb the pain instead of working through it?"
"I'm gonna be real honest with you, Mon, so I hope you don't get all upset on me, but seein' you hurts like a bitch. Seein' you is a constant reminder that my son is dead, because you're the one who found him. But I do it because it helps me, because I know it's somethin' I need to feel, and because in some twisted way, bein' your friend even though you are a constant reminder that my son is dead is the best therapy for me." He took a long drag off the cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "Seein' you reminds me that life goes on, with or without my son. And it's somethin' I need to be reminded of as often as possible."
Monica bit her lip. "I didn't know seeing me was so painful. Maybe we'd best not meet again."
"No, you misunderstand. I need to see you, even though it hurts. I'm workin' through the pain by bein' here, by seein' you." He turned to her and for the first time in their friendship, he touched her, his hand grasping hers. "Every time we do this, it hurts a little less, and I walk outta here and drive out to Long Island feelin' a little more human than I did when I walked in here. And it's because of you." He smiled at her. "I look forward to Wednesday nights because you are the only person who doesn't treat me like I got some kinda disease, who will ask me how I feel and want the whole truth. It's almost like I need these Wednesday nights with you, because it's the only way I get through the week sometimes."
"Wow." Monica laughed embarrassedly. "I had no idea."
"Now you do." He let go of her hand and lit another cigarette.
"I think that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"Then your man Brick needs some help."
"Brad." She grinned. "Will you ever get his name right?"
"I know what his name is just fine. I choose not to use it."
"Why not?"
He turned to her. "You ready for this?"
"More honesty? Don't know if I can handle it. You're pretty brutal, John."
"Tell me now or forever hold your peace."
"Go ahead, I can take it."
"I never get his name right because callin' him somethin' else makes you laugh, and I like seein' you laugh because you have a beautiful smile."
Monica sat frozen for a moment, stunned. "Now that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Damn, and here I was, hopin' to leave you speechless."
"Are you flirting with me?"
"I'm a married man, Agent Reyes. And you have a Ken-doll boyfriend."
"You are." Her grin was as wide as her face. "John Doggett, you're a big flirt!"
"It's been a long time, I'm afraid I'm kinda rusty."
"Rusty my ass."
"And that's my cue to leave." John stood. "I make a comment about your ass and they'll be takin' me home in an ambulance, am I right?"
"Probably." Monica paid the bill and they walked through the bar to the street.
"See ya next week," John said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.
Monica turned to go, but turned back around and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I'm so glad we're friends," she whispered to him, before taking off down the street.
Stunned, John stood there, still able to feel her lips on his cheek. "Me, too," he said to himself. "Me, too."
October 22
"I have a proposition for you."
John laughed. "The FBI not payin' you enough you gotta moonlight as a hooker?"
"Shut up!" Monica reached into her big bag and pulled out a dark blue folder. "Can we please be serious for a moment?"
"Sorry, go ahead, I'm all ears."
Monica grinned. "Not a truer word was spoken."
"I asked for that."
"You did." She set the folder down on the bar. "Have you ever considered becoming an FBI agent?"
"What?"
"The FBI is looking for people, and you've got all the qualifications. Former Marine, college educated, law enforcement experience. The FBI would kill to have you."
"I dunno, Mon."
"For what it's worth, I think you'd be a great agent. And I think you should apply."
"Why's that?"
"Change is good, John." She nudged him playfully with her foot. "Besides, it's a hell of a lot more exciting than the NYPD, and much better pay."
"And I don't have anything tying me down anymore."
"Well, yeah. Look, John, it's like being a cop on a much larger scale. I think you'd like it. Will you at least think about it?"
"I guess."
She sighed. "I don't like to play this card, but I don't see that you've left me any choice. In the FBI, you can catch people like the one who killed Luke. You can help prevent what happened to you and to your son on a much larger scale."
His eyes narrowed. "Ah Mon, why'd you have to go there?"
"Because the FBI needs you, John. And I think you'll find that you need the FBI."
"You really think I should do this?"
"I don't think it, I know it." She grinned. "I brought you some paperwork, if you fill it out now I'll take it to my AD in the morning and we can set you up an interview."
He chuckled. "Why do I have a feeling this was all a giant ploy to get me into the FBI?"
"Damn, you figured me out." She handed him a pen. "Now let's get going on this, John. We don't want to waste any more time."
November 7
8:30 pm
"A Friday night happy hour….what, Brick outta town and you can't find another date?" John asked with a smile.
"Shut up."
"Did I hit a nerve?"
She laughed. "He is out of town, yes. But I felt bad about missing Wednesday." She sipped her martini. "How was your interview?"
"I think it went well. That background check is gonna be a bitch."
"I don't think it will take that long for you, considering you're already a cop. I bet you'll hear before Christmas." She held up her glass. "Well, here's hoping."
They clinked glasses.
"Drink up, it's a celebration," she said, draining her martini.
"I gotta drive home, remember."
"You can sleep on my couch." He looked hesitant, and she sighed. "What do you have to be on Long Island for? Come on, it'll be fine, you can drive home in the morning."
He nodded. "Deal." He drained his beer and signaled for another.
Monica's Apartment
2:30 am
A loud rumble woke John out of his alcohol induced slumber and he sat bolt upright, looking around confusedly for a moment. Then he remembered he was at Monica's apartment-they'd both had a lot to drink and she'd offered to let him sleep on her sofa. Through the window he could see the flashes of lightening, and seconds later the claps of thunder so loud the shook the building. He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, now wide awake.
He heard a noise and turned his head slightly. Monica stood by the window, watching the storm. Her arms were folded in front of her and she leaned against the wall, staring outside intently, shivering in only her dark satin nightgown. Every flash of lightening lit her face briefly, and John could see that she was deep in thought.
He didn't know what possessed him, but he rose and went over to her, standing on the other side of the window. "Penny for your thoughts."
She smiled. "I love storms. I always have."
"You look sad."
She shook her head. "No, just.…pensive."
"Brad?"
"Yeah."
"What about him?"
She smiled sadly. "I don't even know."
"Do you miss him?"
"Not really." She looked at him, and her dark eyes glinted in the dim light. "I was just thinking about how I had a better time with you tonight than I have with Brad in a very long time."
"I think that's a sign, Mon."
"I think you're right." She turned back to the window.
Without thinking, John reached out and pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, tracing her ear with his finger. She turned to him, her eyes wide, and stepped forward. "John…."
"You're so beautiful."
A lone tear fell down her cheek. "You know how you told me I'd know when I was in love?"
He nodded, wiping her tear away.
"I know," she whispered, rising up on her toes and kissing him. "I know."
November 8
8:45 am
Monica rolled over, surprised to find John still in bed. He was wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
"I didn't think you'd stay," she said.
He turned his head to look at her. "I didn't wanna leave. I couldn't do that to you." She smiled, and he rolled over and touched her face. "Darlin', this was bad."
"I thought it was pretty fantastic, myself."
He laughed. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do." She sighed. "Things won't change, John. We're still friends. We just…needed each other last night. And it's okay."
"It was wrong of me to let it happen. I don't want you to think I used you."
"I don't."
He sighed. "Let me take you to dinner tonight."
"Why do I sense a scene from When Harry Met Sally coming on?"
John smiled. "No, not at all. I just….I want to."
"Okay."
He stood and walked to the living room, and she heard the faint sounds of him dressing. He reappeared by the bed a few moments later, suit coat thrown over his arm. "I'll be by around 7, okay?"
She nodded.
He kissed her forehead tenderly, then turned and walked out.
She waited until she heard the front door close before bursting into tears.
9:45 pm
He put the car in park and got out, walking around to open the car door for her.
"Thank you for dinner," she said, smiling up at him. "Went better than I expected."
"Same." He sighed. "God, Mon, I'm a jackass."
"No." She reached out and stroked his face. "You're human."
"I used you."
"I don't feel used." She smiled. "We're still friends, John. Nothing's changed. We'll still meet on Wednesdays for drinks, you'll still call Brad Brick and I'll still correct you every time. We're still John and Monica, we're still friends."
He pulled her into a tight hug. "Brick doesn't know how good he has it, havin' you."
"I know." Her voice was muffled by his coat.
"I just….I'm not ready, Mon. It's too soon."
"I know."
His hand went to her hair and he stroked it, placing kisses on top of her head. "I'm a jerk, Monica, and I can't bear the thought that I've hurt you."
"It's okay, John."
"No, it's not."
"It is." She pulled back to look at him, and he could see tears streaming down her face. "It's okay. I'm okay."
"Then why are you cryin'?"
"I don't know."
He wiped her tears away with his thumb. "I never meant for this to happen."
"I know. It was just the wrong time."
"That's an understatement." He sighed. "We'll be okay."
"Yes. We will."
"What will you tell Brad?"
"Nothing."
He nodded. "Good idea."
She smiled at him. "I should go."
"Yeah."
"See you Wednesday?"
"Wouldn't miss it." He kissed her forehead. "You're an amazin' woman, Monica Reyes."
She smiled before turning and walking inside her building.
December 17
"I got good news."
Monica set her bag down, grinning. "What?"
He held up a letter from the FBI. "Go ahead, read it."
With a grin she grabbed the envelope and read the letter. "You got it! I'm so happy for you!" She enveloped him in a hug. "I told you. Let's celebrate."
"Thanks for all your help," he said, sipping his beer. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"Nonsense." She smiled. "When do you leave for Quantico?"
"I report January 5,but I'm leavin' the second to see if I can find a place to live when I get out of the Academy."
"That's not much time."
"Yeah, I know."
Her eyes clouded over briefly. "I won't get to see you before you go."
"Why not?"
"My flight leaves on the 22nd. I won't be back before you leave."
"Oh."
Her smile was sad. "I guess this is goodbye then."
"Can I take you to the airport, or is that honor reserved for Brick?"
Despite herself, she laughed. "No, Brad's already left for England."
"So then I can take you?"
"No, don't worry about it, I don't want to put you out."
"I want to." He reached out and took her hand. "It would be a pleasure."
"Nobody thinks going to the airport is a pleasure, John." She grinned. "But if you want to yes, I'd like that."
"Then it's a deal."
Kennedy International Airport
December 22
11:32 am
"Flight 331 to Mexico City will begin boarding in five minutes." The voice boomed over the loudspeaker and John and Monica exchanged glances.
Monica stood. "That's me."
"I, uh, I've got somethin' for ya." He pulled a package out of his pocket, wrapped in bright red paper. "It's not much…."
She smiled. "I'm sure it's perfect, whatever it is. Can I open it now?"
"Wait for Christmas."
"Spoilsport." She laughed. "Yours will be arriving any day, so keep an eye on the mail."
"Will do."
Her eyes filled unexpectedly with tears. "Try and have a good holiday, okay? You have plans?"
"Yeah….my folks live out in Westchester County, I'm gonna go there."
"Good." She paused. "I guess this is goodbye then."
John swallowed hard, then pulled her into a hug. "Not goodbye. We'll keep in touch."
"Wednesdays are going to be dull without you."
"You'll find some other cop to annoy."
She laughed. "I'm going to miss you, John."
"I'm gonna miss you too, Mon." He kissed her cheek before letting her go. "Take care, you hear me?"
She nodded. "You too." She reached out and stroked his cheek gently before walking to the gate.
He stood there until the plane took off, watching it taxi down the runway with a sad, hollow feeling in his stomach. He waited until the plane was a dot in the sky before walking back to his car, unwilling to believe she was gone.
When he slid into the driver's seat, the smell of her perfume wafted over him. Suddenly he was filled with a gaping sadness, and unable to stop himself, he wept.
Christmas Day
9:30 am
He was just about to walk out the door when the phone rang. He debated whether or not to answer, but decided to answer it.
"Merry Christmas." Monica's voice greeted him, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Monica?" The long-distance crackled over the phone line. "Whaddaya doin', callin' from Mexico?"
"I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I wanted….to know how you were doing. Did you get your gift?"
He laughed. "Very creative. I assume that the martini glass is to be saved for your use only."
"Damn right." He could hear her smile over the phone line. "And I love my book, John. I had no idea you knew who Khalil Gibran was."
"What, ya think just 'cause I'm a cop I'm ignorant?"
"John, you have unsuspected depth."
"I try."
"Well, it's perfect. I love it."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"I, uh, I gotta go.…but I just wanted to say Merry Christmas."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
"It's good to hear your voice."
A lump filled his throat. "Yours too."
He hung up, sighing heavily, and stared at the phone a moment before picking his keys up and leaving.
June, 1998
Quantico, VA
She spotted John at the other end of the room-she'd know those ears anywhere. Squeezing between people, she approached him from behind and whispered in his ear, "Buy me a martini?"
He spun around, grinning. "What are you doin' here?" He pulled her into a hug, inhaling her scent deeply. She felt familiar, fit in his arms the way she always had.
"I came to see you graduate. I hid in the back so you wouldn't see me."
"It worked. God it's good to see ya again, Mon."
"Good to see you too."
He pulled back. "Can I buy you dinner?"
"I wish." She smiled sadly. "I have to be back in New York tonight…I promised my AD I wouldn't be gone more than a day."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I know. My flight leaves in two hours, so I can't even really stay. I just.…I wanted to say congratulations. I'm proud of you."
"I'm glad you could come."
This time it was she who pulled him into a hug. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, John." She kissed his cheek. "I miss you."
"I miss you, too."
"Do you know what office you'll be at?"
"They're puttin' me at headquarters."
"Not New York?"
"No, said they wanted me to work out of Washington."
"Well now I have an excuse to come to Washington more often."
"You'd better."
"I gotta get going." She smiled at him. "Call me."
"I will."
He watched her walk away again….he felt like all he had ever done was watch her walk away. But this time, instead of feeling a gaping sadness, he felt something he thought he had long forgotten how to feel.
Loved.
Say Goodbye-Dave Matthews Band
So here we are tonight, you and me together
The storm outside, the fire is bright
And in your eyes I see what's on my mind
You've got me wild, turned around inside
And then desire, see, is creeping up heavy inside here
And know you feel the same way I do now
Now let's make this an evening
Lovers for a night, lovers for tonight
Stay here with me, love, tonight, just for an evening
When we make our passion pictures
You and me twist up, secret creatures
And we'll stay here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Go back to being friends
But tonight let's be lovers, we kiss and sweat
We'll turn this better thing to the best
Of all we can offer, just a rogue kiss
Tangled tongues and lips, see me this way
I'm turning and turning for you
Girl, just tonight
Float away here with me
An evening, just wait and see
But tomorrow go back to your man
I'm back to my world
And we're back to being friends
Wait and see me, tonight let's do this thing
All we are is wasting hours until the
Sun comes up, it's all ours
On our way here
Tomorrow go back to being friends
Go back to being friends
Tonight let's be lovers, Say you will
And hear me call, soft-spoken whispering love
A thing or two I have to say here
Tonight let's go all the way then
Love I'll see you just for this evening
Let's strip down, trip out at this
One evening starts with a kiss
Run away
And tomorrow back to being friends
Lovers…love…lovers
Just for tonight, one night-love you
And tomorrow say goodbye
Author's Notes:
Damn, this is one long story. And I am so glad it's done. :)
Before you all get nit-picky, I know that an FBI background check takes at LEAST 6 months. However, for my own personal timeline's sake, I shortened it. I have three words for you if you have issues with this-suspend your disbelief. You can do it!
I have no idea how long the training at the FBI Academy is, so I'm assuming it's roughly six months. See above if you have issues with this.
If you haven't heard 'Say Goodbye' by the Dave Matthews Band…go download it. It really fits John and Monica (so I think) and I found it really inspiring. 'Crash' is just a kick ass album anyway, but this song especially.
Many thanks to my wonderful betas, Sarah and Lisa…your help is invaluable. Also thanks to the people who send feedback, it really keeps me going. :) Watch for the sequel (tentatively titled 'Least Complicated') coming soon to a fic site near you!