Thanks to everyone who responded with the positive feedback. It's very much appreciated. Now, here's part two...
Two days later, John sat by Ricky Bilston's bed, out of ideas, out of options, and completely stumped. Monica's neighbour had been, if not in the best of health, at least reasonably well. There was no history of illness, either physical or mental, and like Monica, nothing to account for his sudden lapse into unconsciousness. He had however, been a man on the edge, and John would not have been surprised if thoughts of suicide had been contemplated in his darkest hour. Ricky had lost his wife and two young children in a house fire five months ago, and had been in a self-destructive spiral ever since. He had moved into Monica's building seven weeks ago, bringing with him a bed, an old TV, and a running account at Bob's Discount Liquor. Although he still held his job as a chartered accountant, he had stopped turning up for work and instead drank his days away in a lonely, empty apartment. Ties with friends and family had been all but severed, and the only person he saw with any regularity was the deliveryman from Bob's.
The woman who had stayed with Ricky whilst waiting for the paramedics, Brenda Grubbs, had been too hysterical to offer much help with the investigation. All she could tell them was that Monica had forced another neighbour into her apartment at gunpoint. She never saw Geoffrey Lindridge leave the building, and didn't know anything had happened to Monica until the police rushed out calling for help.
John cursed this mysterious Geoffrey Lindridge, not for the first time since Monica had been admitted to hospital. He wanted to find him and hurt him. But more than that he wanted answers. He wanted to know…he needed to know that there was a way back for Monica. His mind refused to accept that she might be in that bed forever. His heart refused to accept that he'd never hear her laugh again. And his cop instinct refused to accept that they wouldn't find the bastard responsible.
XxX
Monica closed her eyes and expelled a contented sigh. "Mmmm, that feels wonderful."
She was lying on the couch, her feet in John's lap after a busy day at work, and an even busier night at home.
"I've got talented fingers."
"You surely have." she agreed, as his hands continued applying soft pressure to her feet.
"Maybe I should consider hirin' myself out to over-tired, over-worked career women."
Her eyes opened and narrowed, and she prodded him in the chest with her foot."Oh no you don't. Those hands don't touch any other woman but me. Ever."
"My little spitfire." He chortled, nonetheless pleased by her possessiveness.
"You just behave yourself, John Doggett."
"Yes ma'am."
They settled into silence, only broken by the occasional moan from Monica.
"Oh, right there. Yeah, that's the spot."
John worked his thumbs into the arch of her foot, kneading and stroking and watching as he eased all the tension from her body. His fingers grew bolder, and began a light trek towards her ankle. When he encountered no protest he continued his journey, paying special attention to the well-defined shape of her calf muscle.
"That's not my foot." Monica finally objected.
"It's attached." He protested, wide eyed with innocence.
"Hmmm."
"Kids are asleep." He ventured.
"They are."
"So…"
"So?"
Monica couldn't believe it. She'd been in this world only three days and so far they'd made love four times. Once on Saturday, twice on Sunday, and once this morning in the shower, before work. She'd wondered briefly if this side of Fantasy John was in any way indicative of Real John, but quickly pushed that thought aside. She was here, she was happy, and that was all that mattered.
"So I was thinkin' we could go upstairs and get down to business."
"Get down to business? Way to woo me, John." She prodded him again.
"It's wooing you want? Okay then." And he bent down to kiss her bare leg. His voice was low and husky as he said, "Come upstairs Mon, and I'll make you shiver."
"Shivering is good." She agreed, goose pimples rising already in anticipation.
"For starters…" he promised.
So unable to resist, she went.
And he did indeed make her shiver.
And then some.
XxX
Monica hummed happily to herself as she rode the elevator down to the basement. Some things never change, she thought, as she descended down into abyss that housed the X-Files. Mulder and Scully were already at their desks, although work seemed to be the last thing on their minds.
"Good morning." She smiled, interrupting their animated conversation.
A guilty flush rose in Scully's face. "Monica…we thought it was your turn to drop the kids off today."
"I wanted to come in early to finish some paperwork." She looked from one to the other, noting their apparent unease. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
"I think we should tell her, Scully."
"There's nothing to tell, Mulder. It's crazy."
"Just because it's crazy, doesn't mean that she shouldn't know."
"Would one of you please tell me what's going on?"
Scully glared at Mulder as he chose to answer her. "We had a visit from someone last night. He came to the house."
"Are you all right? Is William all right?" Monica asked, concerned that although in this reality William was a normal, healthy child, something may have spilled over from her reality when she came crashing in.
"We're fine. He wasn't interested in us. He was interested in you."
"Me? Why me?"
"We were hoping you could tell us."
"I don't know why anyone would approach you about me."
"So you don't know anyone by the name of Geoffrey Lindridge?" he pressed.
Monica paled.
"Geoffrey Lindridge? He was here?"
"So you do know him?" Scully asked.
"I…I did. In another lifetime." She replied honestly. She collapsed into a chair, suddenly terrified beyond reasoning that he was coming to take her back home. She didn't want to be snatched away from her newfound happiness. Away from children who had stolen her heart. Away from friends who were happily married, with a healthy, normal son. Away from a place where alien invasions were the things of science fiction movies, and the good guys always won. Away from a John who loved her. She couldn't leave all this. She wouldn't. She belonged here.
"Were you lovers?"
"Mulder!" Scully rebuked.
"No! Of course not." Monica protested at the same time.
"Then why the interest?"
"How should I know?"
"Monica, if you're in trouble we can help you."
"I…no one can help me." She whispered.
"Does John know about this man?"
"No! You can't tell John."
"But he can –"
"No. Mulder, promise me you won't tell John anything."
"I really think that –"
"Please." She begged.
"We promise." Scully interjected. "As long as you promise to come to us if you find you can't handle things on your own."
Monica weighed up her options. In all likelihood, she would need help at some stage. She needed to figure out a way she could stay here permanently, and it was Mulder's field of expertise.
"Okay."
Mulder frowned in disagreement, but accepted her decision for the time being. "He said he'd be in touch. That he had some business to take care of, and then he'd be back for your decision."
"Those were his exact words? That he'd come back for me?"
"Yes."
"And he specifically mentioned my decision?"
"Yeah."
Monica brightened. Chose freely, and choose well. Those had been Geoffrey's exact words. She smiled up at her friends, and laughed at their confusion. Everything was okay. She wouldn't have to leave here, and she wouldn't have to leave her family. She'd made her choice, and she wasn't going back.
Xxx
"Geoffrey Lindridge, you are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say can and will be used in evidence. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, Agent Doggett. Perfectly."
XxX
Forty minutes later in the interview room John was fast losing patience with his suspect. He was getting no information out of him except for nonsense theories that Monica was happier where she was, and that she wouldn't be thankful if he brought her back. Scully was in the room not only as the voice of reason, but to ensure John didn't give into his urges and do something drastic.
"Why wouldn't she want to come back, Mr Lindridge?" she asked, playing along with his hypothesis.
"Because right now she has everything she's ever wanted. What does she have here?"
"She has friends and family who care for her, you son of a bitch!"
"Does she, Agent Doggett? When was the last time you told her you cared? Or the last time you invited her over for nothing more than the pleasure of her company, Agent Scully?"
John glared at him, all the more defensive because he had touched on a nerve. "This isn't about us. This is about you and what you did to Monica."
"But of course it's about you. If not for you, I wouldn't have been able to take her."
"What do you mean?"
"I've said enough." Geoffrey replied, nonplussed at John's anger. "It's not my place to betray her secrets."
"What the hell do you mean? Are you sayin' this is my fault?" John practically screamed.
"Agent Doggett!" Scully tried to calm him. "You need to calm down and regain perspective."
"I don't need to calm down. Listen, this arsehole did something to Monica, and now he's playin' games with us. He *knows* how to bring her back. And I'm not lettin' him out of this room until he tells us how he did it, and how I can get her home."
Geoffrey watched this interaction with interest, paying special attention to John's slip of the tongue regarding Monica's homecoming. It wasn't, 'how *we* can get her home', it was 'how *I* can get her home, indicating stronger feelings than he had read in Monica's memories. Maybe she didn't belong where she was. She was undoubtedly happier there, at least, she had been when he looked in on her yesterday, but she had possibilities here too. Possibilities that she should be aware of, if she were to make her choice freely and wisely. Although he was loathe to think that he had made a mistake, he was beginning to feel that a grievous error had occurred. Maybe he had over reacted due to the strength of her loneliness. He sighed into his cuffed hands. He didn't like mistakes. They were messy and time consuming, and had a way of coming back to haunt you. But the truth was, he had been sloppy. The pressure of imminent discovery had meant that instead of allowing the subject to choose to go with him, he had simply taken. He had allowed self-interest to exceed his objective of the subject's fulfilment and growth. He had been blinded by the darkest road, which suddenly didn't seem so dark any more.
And he had broken the cardinal rule; he hadn't taken the time to check out the facts.
"This is bad." He muttered.
"I'm glad to see you finally comprehend the depth of trouble you're in." John retorted sarcastically.
"I'm sorry, Agent Doggett. It was an error of judgement. But the offer was made in good faith, albeit a little unorthodoxly, and I can't just rip her out without considering her wishes."
"Mr. Lindridge –" Scully began, but stopped when she realised his hands were suddenly free from the cuffs and were reaching across the table for hers. They grasped hers and squeezed gently.
"Sleep." He commanded, and she did.
"What the hell-" John jumped from his seat with his gun drawn and pointed it at Geoffrey.
"Calm down, John. May I call you John?"
"Scully? Can you hear me?"
Geoffrey's voice held a tinge of amusement. "Of course she can't hear you, she's asleep."
"What did you do to her?"
"Are you this dense all the time? She's just asleep. She'll wake when I tell her to. Really, I'm beginning to wonder what Monica sees in you."
"Put your hands where I can see them." John ordered, torn between re-cuffing the suspect and getting help for Scully.
"Must I go through this again? Look, I want to help you. That's all."
"You can help me by un-hypnotising Agent Scully."
"Hypnotism? A little trite, don't you think?"
"Hands where I can see them." John said again.
"Look, do you want Monica back, or not?"
This got John's attention, as it was intended too. "Then sit down and listen carefully. I can't bring her back without her consent. No matter that she doesn't belong there. That's just the way it goes. But you…you can go in and convince her to come home."
"An' how exactly do I do that?" John asked, not caring at that moment where she was, just that there was a possibility of her waking up.
"By being honest."
...to be continued... the more feedback I get, the drippier the ending will be...;)
Two days later, John sat by Ricky Bilston's bed, out of ideas, out of options, and completely stumped. Monica's neighbour had been, if not in the best of health, at least reasonably well. There was no history of illness, either physical or mental, and like Monica, nothing to account for his sudden lapse into unconsciousness. He had however, been a man on the edge, and John would not have been surprised if thoughts of suicide had been contemplated in his darkest hour. Ricky had lost his wife and two young children in a house fire five months ago, and had been in a self-destructive spiral ever since. He had moved into Monica's building seven weeks ago, bringing with him a bed, an old TV, and a running account at Bob's Discount Liquor. Although he still held his job as a chartered accountant, he had stopped turning up for work and instead drank his days away in a lonely, empty apartment. Ties with friends and family had been all but severed, and the only person he saw with any regularity was the deliveryman from Bob's.
The woman who had stayed with Ricky whilst waiting for the paramedics, Brenda Grubbs, had been too hysterical to offer much help with the investigation. All she could tell them was that Monica had forced another neighbour into her apartment at gunpoint. She never saw Geoffrey Lindridge leave the building, and didn't know anything had happened to Monica until the police rushed out calling for help.
John cursed this mysterious Geoffrey Lindridge, not for the first time since Monica had been admitted to hospital. He wanted to find him and hurt him. But more than that he wanted answers. He wanted to know…he needed to know that there was a way back for Monica. His mind refused to accept that she might be in that bed forever. His heart refused to accept that he'd never hear her laugh again. And his cop instinct refused to accept that they wouldn't find the bastard responsible.
XxX
Monica closed her eyes and expelled a contented sigh. "Mmmm, that feels wonderful."
She was lying on the couch, her feet in John's lap after a busy day at work, and an even busier night at home.
"I've got talented fingers."
"You surely have." she agreed, as his hands continued applying soft pressure to her feet.
"Maybe I should consider hirin' myself out to over-tired, over-worked career women."
Her eyes opened and narrowed, and she prodded him in the chest with her foot."Oh no you don't. Those hands don't touch any other woman but me. Ever."
"My little spitfire." He chortled, nonetheless pleased by her possessiveness.
"You just behave yourself, John Doggett."
"Yes ma'am."
They settled into silence, only broken by the occasional moan from Monica.
"Oh, right there. Yeah, that's the spot."
John worked his thumbs into the arch of her foot, kneading and stroking and watching as he eased all the tension from her body. His fingers grew bolder, and began a light trek towards her ankle. When he encountered no protest he continued his journey, paying special attention to the well-defined shape of her calf muscle.
"That's not my foot." Monica finally objected.
"It's attached." He protested, wide eyed with innocence.
"Hmmm."
"Kids are asleep." He ventured.
"They are."
"So…"
"So?"
Monica couldn't believe it. She'd been in this world only three days and so far they'd made love four times. Once on Saturday, twice on Sunday, and once this morning in the shower, before work. She'd wondered briefly if this side of Fantasy John was in any way indicative of Real John, but quickly pushed that thought aside. She was here, she was happy, and that was all that mattered.
"So I was thinkin' we could go upstairs and get down to business."
"Get down to business? Way to woo me, John." She prodded him again.
"It's wooing you want? Okay then." And he bent down to kiss her bare leg. His voice was low and husky as he said, "Come upstairs Mon, and I'll make you shiver."
"Shivering is good." She agreed, goose pimples rising already in anticipation.
"For starters…" he promised.
So unable to resist, she went.
And he did indeed make her shiver.
And then some.
XxX
Monica hummed happily to herself as she rode the elevator down to the basement. Some things never change, she thought, as she descended down into abyss that housed the X-Files. Mulder and Scully were already at their desks, although work seemed to be the last thing on their minds.
"Good morning." She smiled, interrupting their animated conversation.
A guilty flush rose in Scully's face. "Monica…we thought it was your turn to drop the kids off today."
"I wanted to come in early to finish some paperwork." She looked from one to the other, noting their apparent unease. "What's going on?"
"Nothing. It's nothing."
"I think we should tell her, Scully."
"There's nothing to tell, Mulder. It's crazy."
"Just because it's crazy, doesn't mean that she shouldn't know."
"Would one of you please tell me what's going on?"
Scully glared at Mulder as he chose to answer her. "We had a visit from someone last night. He came to the house."
"Are you all right? Is William all right?" Monica asked, concerned that although in this reality William was a normal, healthy child, something may have spilled over from her reality when she came crashing in.
"We're fine. He wasn't interested in us. He was interested in you."
"Me? Why me?"
"We were hoping you could tell us."
"I don't know why anyone would approach you about me."
"So you don't know anyone by the name of Geoffrey Lindridge?" he pressed.
Monica paled.
"Geoffrey Lindridge? He was here?"
"So you do know him?" Scully asked.
"I…I did. In another lifetime." She replied honestly. She collapsed into a chair, suddenly terrified beyond reasoning that he was coming to take her back home. She didn't want to be snatched away from her newfound happiness. Away from children who had stolen her heart. Away from friends who were happily married, with a healthy, normal son. Away from a place where alien invasions were the things of science fiction movies, and the good guys always won. Away from a John who loved her. She couldn't leave all this. She wouldn't. She belonged here.
"Were you lovers?"
"Mulder!" Scully rebuked.
"No! Of course not." Monica protested at the same time.
"Then why the interest?"
"How should I know?"
"Monica, if you're in trouble we can help you."
"I…no one can help me." She whispered.
"Does John know about this man?"
"No! You can't tell John."
"But he can –"
"No. Mulder, promise me you won't tell John anything."
"I really think that –"
"Please." She begged.
"We promise." Scully interjected. "As long as you promise to come to us if you find you can't handle things on your own."
Monica weighed up her options. In all likelihood, she would need help at some stage. She needed to figure out a way she could stay here permanently, and it was Mulder's field of expertise.
"Okay."
Mulder frowned in disagreement, but accepted her decision for the time being. "He said he'd be in touch. That he had some business to take care of, and then he'd be back for your decision."
"Those were his exact words? That he'd come back for me?"
"Yes."
"And he specifically mentioned my decision?"
"Yeah."
Monica brightened. Chose freely, and choose well. Those had been Geoffrey's exact words. She smiled up at her friends, and laughed at their confusion. Everything was okay. She wouldn't have to leave here, and she wouldn't have to leave her family. She'd made her choice, and she wasn't going back.
Xxx
"Geoffrey Lindridge, you are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say can and will be used in evidence. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, Agent Doggett. Perfectly."
XxX
Forty minutes later in the interview room John was fast losing patience with his suspect. He was getting no information out of him except for nonsense theories that Monica was happier where she was, and that she wouldn't be thankful if he brought her back. Scully was in the room not only as the voice of reason, but to ensure John didn't give into his urges and do something drastic.
"Why wouldn't she want to come back, Mr Lindridge?" she asked, playing along with his hypothesis.
"Because right now she has everything she's ever wanted. What does she have here?"
"She has friends and family who care for her, you son of a bitch!"
"Does she, Agent Doggett? When was the last time you told her you cared? Or the last time you invited her over for nothing more than the pleasure of her company, Agent Scully?"
John glared at him, all the more defensive because he had touched on a nerve. "This isn't about us. This is about you and what you did to Monica."
"But of course it's about you. If not for you, I wouldn't have been able to take her."
"What do you mean?"
"I've said enough." Geoffrey replied, nonplussed at John's anger. "It's not my place to betray her secrets."
"What the hell do you mean? Are you sayin' this is my fault?" John practically screamed.
"Agent Doggett!" Scully tried to calm him. "You need to calm down and regain perspective."
"I don't need to calm down. Listen, this arsehole did something to Monica, and now he's playin' games with us. He *knows* how to bring her back. And I'm not lettin' him out of this room until he tells us how he did it, and how I can get her home."
Geoffrey watched this interaction with interest, paying special attention to John's slip of the tongue regarding Monica's homecoming. It wasn't, 'how *we* can get her home', it was 'how *I* can get her home, indicating stronger feelings than he had read in Monica's memories. Maybe she didn't belong where she was. She was undoubtedly happier there, at least, she had been when he looked in on her yesterday, but she had possibilities here too. Possibilities that she should be aware of, if she were to make her choice freely and wisely. Although he was loathe to think that he had made a mistake, he was beginning to feel that a grievous error had occurred. Maybe he had over reacted due to the strength of her loneliness. He sighed into his cuffed hands. He didn't like mistakes. They were messy and time consuming, and had a way of coming back to haunt you. But the truth was, he had been sloppy. The pressure of imminent discovery had meant that instead of allowing the subject to choose to go with him, he had simply taken. He had allowed self-interest to exceed his objective of the subject's fulfilment and growth. He had been blinded by the darkest road, which suddenly didn't seem so dark any more.
And he had broken the cardinal rule; he hadn't taken the time to check out the facts.
"This is bad." He muttered.
"I'm glad to see you finally comprehend the depth of trouble you're in." John retorted sarcastically.
"I'm sorry, Agent Doggett. It was an error of judgement. But the offer was made in good faith, albeit a little unorthodoxly, and I can't just rip her out without considering her wishes."
"Mr. Lindridge –" Scully began, but stopped when she realised his hands were suddenly free from the cuffs and were reaching across the table for hers. They grasped hers and squeezed gently.
"Sleep." He commanded, and she did.
"What the hell-" John jumped from his seat with his gun drawn and pointed it at Geoffrey.
"Calm down, John. May I call you John?"
"Scully? Can you hear me?"
Geoffrey's voice held a tinge of amusement. "Of course she can't hear you, she's asleep."
"What did you do to her?"
"Are you this dense all the time? She's just asleep. She'll wake when I tell her to. Really, I'm beginning to wonder what Monica sees in you."
"Put your hands where I can see them." John ordered, torn between re-cuffing the suspect and getting help for Scully.
"Must I go through this again? Look, I want to help you. That's all."
"You can help me by un-hypnotising Agent Scully."
"Hypnotism? A little trite, don't you think?"
"Hands where I can see them." John said again.
"Look, do you want Monica back, or not?"
This got John's attention, as it was intended too. "Then sit down and listen carefully. I can't bring her back without her consent. No matter that she doesn't belong there. That's just the way it goes. But you…you can go in and convince her to come home."
"An' how exactly do I do that?" John asked, not caring at that moment where she was, just that there was a possibility of her waking up.
"By being honest."
...to be continued... the more feedback I get, the drippier the ending will be...;)