Title: Means to an End
Author: Lisa
Email: lc7685@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don't own the show, the characters, or anything like that :)
Rating:
Summary: Monica finds herself in a dangerous position after events take a
turn for the worse. Set after Sunshine days, Pre-Truth. Please R/R this is
a WIP :)
Category: DRF/DRUST/DRR...just-all-DR :P Drama, Angst
A/N: Thanx for all the feedback everyone - and just to clear things up, this story started in a backward kind of format. Monica didn't wake up from a dream at the start of chapter two, that was just something I used as an entrance to the whole "previously" thing. Starts Monday night, goes back to Sunday morning and continues from there. Sorry if I mislead anyone, I should've made it clearer. Hope some stuff in this chapter clears that up. Thanks again and keep the reviews coming! :)
*
"Seattle," Monica sighed as she buckled into her seat. "Jesus."
"Now you see why I'm unhappy? We fly all the way across the country, no stops, for apparently little reason."
"Yeah, I see. Can you see him?"
"Yeah," John replied, leaning his head left. Monica was sitting at the window and she moved right to see also. Their temples almost touching, Monica noticed a crop of dark hair in the window seat two rows ahead of them. "That's him," he stated plainly. "With the spikes."
"Yay," Monica replied sarcastically, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Is it just me or does this seem more cramped than usual." The words were fresh out of her mouth when the passenger in front of her, an elderly man, pushed his chair back, almost locking her legs in their position. At least she hadn't crossed them at ankle or knee, otherwise there would be even more movement restrictions. John smiled knowingly.
"There are some days you wish you were as small as Dana Scully eh?" he chuckled. Monica glared at him, though her eyes were smiling.
"You just wait," she stated. "This is a long flight. By the time we get off, you'll be so sick of listening to me complain- Now give me the files or I'll have to entertain you with my dream." John was looking through the gap between the seats again and reached absent-mindedly for his briefcase, pulling it onto his lap.
"You remembered it?"
"Yep." It was the truth. She had. In the shower just as the damn phone rang.
"So, what's the predictions?"
"What?" Monica asked, forgetting about the files for the time being.
"You know-"
"John, my dreams aren't psychic. Not unless you think I was kidnapped as a kid about five times over."
"What?" It was John's turn to be curious.
"It's a recurring dream I've been having for months now. I'm six years old, and someone breaks into the house and nicks off with me. I was remembering what happens next but the call to come into work disrupted me."
"Oh," was all John said. Must be some kind of subconscious link to Luke, he realised, knowing that he'd experienced similar dreams. He nodded and they both fell into silence. Oh God I've upset him, Monica thought to herself. However, he leaned closer to her and whispered.
"Since he moved the seat back I've got an even better eye on the suspect." Monica rolled her eyes.
"That's great John," she replied, also whispering. "All I have is a better eye of this guy's bald head!" John started laughing as he sat back in his place. The plane's engines had started and all were told to buckle up. John put his briefcase back on the floor and waited until they were in the air. As soon as the seatbelt sign clicked off, Monica unbuckled, turning her back further to the window so that she could look at John as he talked her through the files.
"Missing persons files," John began, handing all three to her. Monica glanced at a couple and one jogged her memory.
"These all bank managers?"
"Head of security at three major financial institutions." He continued to list them off and Monica nodded. A smirk pulled at her lips.
"Were they abducted by aliens?" she asked. He rolled his eyes, chuckling, and continued to explain.
Half way there, Monica touched John's arm briefly and leant closer to him. He obliged, tilting his head so she could speak.
"Is he asleep? I think I can hear him snoring." John smiling, leaning forward conspicuously. He smiled as he sat back.
"Yep." Monica groaned. "Suspect's still there. Why don't I go for a walk to check him out?" Monica nodded as John left his seat and made his way to the toilet, walking past the suspect on the way. Monica, taking the chance, shifted into John's seat and stretched her legs. Momentarily she thought about refusing to move again, but that wouldn't really be fair. Monica watched as John returned minutes later, glancing freely around the passengers. He stopped at Monica and she smiled innocently up at him. "Oh all right," he started, but her face suddenly changed.
"Oh no, it's okay. I was only kidding." She slid back over into her place.
"You sure?" John asked as he sat down. She nodded.
"Yeah. Not too much longer."
"Mon-"
"John, I was joking. What's he doing?" She leant over to see and John felt her loose hair brushing against the top of his hand. He inhaled deeply to stop himself reaching out and touching her.
"He's just sitting there. I don't think he suspects anything."
"So what's going to happen?"
"There'll be FBI waiting at the other end to pick him up."
"They really thought he was going to disappear on an aeroplane?"
"I don't think so. That's why I got those files before we left."
"What about them? They're missing persons-"
"Just, little things. I was told by Follmer to stay out of it, but Skinner got the files for me, and told me to make sure I didn't go into it alone."
"Why would you?" John didn't reply. "John, what's meant to be in these files that isn't?"
"There's a slight inconsistency."
"Like?"
"Like the dates on those folders are wrong. The first one, Margaret Thong, actually disappeared two days after the date last seen recorded. The others disappeared two days after their file states also. They were in their homes and with their families at the time these were filed."
"Someone made a mistake?"
"It's impossible. Those reports really were filed those days. Skinner signed one of them - see?" He pointed and she nodded.
"So what's your theory?" Monica asked John. She was waiting for some long explanation about fraud, but she was shocked by what she heard.
"Well which dates do you think are correct? The days the families say they disappeared, or the days these reports say?" Monica thought.
"What kind of families?"
"A husband, a mother, and a son. Who do you choose? A victim's family or well-respected officials who would have had to research each case?"
"The victim's families," Monica replied. "Why would they lie?"
"That's my thoughts exactly. When I called them Friday before I left, they corrected me on the dates. That means someone's screwing with us."
"How did you get the files?"
"They were on my desk when I got back from lunch on Friday."
"Did you ask Dana?" Monica asked. John nodded.
"Yeah, she had no idea."
"So why are the dates wrong?"
"What I was going to look into before we got called away, was if anything happened at those banks the days the families say they disappeared. Something maybe someone doesn't want us to know."
"But someone put that file on your desk."
"Like I said back at the office, we're being set up."
"For what?"
"I don't know Mon. But we'll find out."
*
Category: DRF/DRUST/DRR...just-all-DR :P Drama, Angst
A/N: Thanx for all the feedback everyone - and just to clear things up, this story started in a backward kind of format. Monica didn't wake up from a dream at the start of chapter two, that was just something I used as an entrance to the whole "previously" thing. Starts Monday night, goes back to Sunday morning and continues from there. Sorry if I mislead anyone, I should've made it clearer. Hope some stuff in this chapter clears that up. Thanks again and keep the reviews coming! :)
*
"Seattle," Monica sighed as she buckled into her seat. "Jesus."
"Now you see why I'm unhappy? We fly all the way across the country, no stops, for apparently little reason."
"Yeah, I see. Can you see him?"
"Yeah," John replied, leaning his head left. Monica was sitting at the window and she moved right to see also. Their temples almost touching, Monica noticed a crop of dark hair in the window seat two rows ahead of them. "That's him," he stated plainly. "With the spikes."
"Yay," Monica replied sarcastically, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Is it just me or does this seem more cramped than usual." The words were fresh out of her mouth when the passenger in front of her, an elderly man, pushed his chair back, almost locking her legs in their position. At least she hadn't crossed them at ankle or knee, otherwise there would be even more movement restrictions. John smiled knowingly.
"There are some days you wish you were as small as Dana Scully eh?" he chuckled. Monica glared at him, though her eyes were smiling.
"You just wait," she stated. "This is a long flight. By the time we get off, you'll be so sick of listening to me complain- Now give me the files or I'll have to entertain you with my dream." John was looking through the gap between the seats again and reached absent-mindedly for his briefcase, pulling it onto his lap.
"You remembered it?"
"Yep." It was the truth. She had. In the shower just as the damn phone rang.
"So, what's the predictions?"
"What?" Monica asked, forgetting about the files for the time being.
"You know-"
"John, my dreams aren't psychic. Not unless you think I was kidnapped as a kid about five times over."
"What?" It was John's turn to be curious.
"It's a recurring dream I've been having for months now. I'm six years old, and someone breaks into the house and nicks off with me. I was remembering what happens next but the call to come into work disrupted me."
"Oh," was all John said. Must be some kind of subconscious link to Luke, he realised, knowing that he'd experienced similar dreams. He nodded and they both fell into silence. Oh God I've upset him, Monica thought to herself. However, he leaned closer to her and whispered.
"Since he moved the seat back I've got an even better eye on the suspect." Monica rolled her eyes.
"That's great John," she replied, also whispering. "All I have is a better eye of this guy's bald head!" John started laughing as he sat back in his place. The plane's engines had started and all were told to buckle up. John put his briefcase back on the floor and waited until they were in the air. As soon as the seatbelt sign clicked off, Monica unbuckled, turning her back further to the window so that she could look at John as he talked her through the files.
"Missing persons files," John began, handing all three to her. Monica glanced at a couple and one jogged her memory.
"These all bank managers?"
"Head of security at three major financial institutions." He continued to list them off and Monica nodded. A smirk pulled at her lips.
"Were they abducted by aliens?" she asked. He rolled his eyes, chuckling, and continued to explain.
Half way there, Monica touched John's arm briefly and leant closer to him. He obliged, tilting his head so she could speak.
"Is he asleep? I think I can hear him snoring." John smiling, leaning forward conspicuously. He smiled as he sat back.
"Yep." Monica groaned. "Suspect's still there. Why don't I go for a walk to check him out?" Monica nodded as John left his seat and made his way to the toilet, walking past the suspect on the way. Monica, taking the chance, shifted into John's seat and stretched her legs. Momentarily she thought about refusing to move again, but that wouldn't really be fair. Monica watched as John returned minutes later, glancing freely around the passengers. He stopped at Monica and she smiled innocently up at him. "Oh all right," he started, but her face suddenly changed.
"Oh no, it's okay. I was only kidding." She slid back over into her place.
"You sure?" John asked as he sat down. She nodded.
"Yeah. Not too much longer."
"Mon-"
"John, I was joking. What's he doing?" She leant over to see and John felt her loose hair brushing against the top of his hand. He inhaled deeply to stop himself reaching out and touching her.
"He's just sitting there. I don't think he suspects anything."
"So what's going to happen?"
"There'll be FBI waiting at the other end to pick him up."
"They really thought he was going to disappear on an aeroplane?"
"I don't think so. That's why I got those files before we left."
"What about them? They're missing persons-"
"Just, little things. I was told by Follmer to stay out of it, but Skinner got the files for me, and told me to make sure I didn't go into it alone."
"Why would you?" John didn't reply. "John, what's meant to be in these files that isn't?"
"There's a slight inconsistency."
"Like?"
"Like the dates on those folders are wrong. The first one, Margaret Thong, actually disappeared two days after the date last seen recorded. The others disappeared two days after their file states also. They were in their homes and with their families at the time these were filed."
"Someone made a mistake?"
"It's impossible. Those reports really were filed those days. Skinner signed one of them - see?" He pointed and she nodded.
"So what's your theory?" Monica asked John. She was waiting for some long explanation about fraud, but she was shocked by what she heard.
"Well which dates do you think are correct? The days the families say they disappeared, or the days these reports say?" Monica thought.
"What kind of families?"
"A husband, a mother, and a son. Who do you choose? A victim's family or well-respected officials who would have had to research each case?"
"The victim's families," Monica replied. "Why would they lie?"
"That's my thoughts exactly. When I called them Friday before I left, they corrected me on the dates. That means someone's screwing with us."
"How did you get the files?"
"They were on my desk when I got back from lunch on Friday."
"Did you ask Dana?" Monica asked. John nodded.
"Yeah, she had no idea."
"So why are the dates wrong?"
"What I was going to look into before we got called away, was if anything happened at those banks the days the families say they disappeared. Something maybe someone doesn't want us to know."
"But someone put that file on your desk."
"Like I said back at the office, we're being set up."
"For what?"
"I don't know Mon. But we'll find out."
*