Almost done. That's all I'm saying.
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"Could I hold you for a lifetime? Could I look into your eyes? Could I have this night to share this night forever? Could I hold you close beside me? Could I hold you for all time? Could I, could I have this kiss forever?"
~Whitney Houston feat. Enrique Iglesius, Could I have this kiss forever?
Chapter 10: The Taste of Tears
He could smell the blood. He had grown so accustomed to it, he could smell it all over his hands and fingers. The sound of her heart beating. The way she laughed. All just a memory as he stood there in the motel room and stared endlessly at her. His flesh and blood, the spirit of his happiness that had been murdered with Luke was asking him and willing him to massacre the woman he loved. The woman he took a knife for. The woman he would stand at the gates of Hell for. And he was being asked to kill her. To take her life without remorse.
Angrily, John Doggett refused with every fibre of his being.
He took the phone from his ear, the sobbing sounds of his son gripping him, making his break. So that was the plan. They would take the most important thing from him and make him destroy the other. That hiss that had run through him in the kitchen caused him to do this. Finally, after an eternity, he removed the phone from his ear and pressed End.
The hiss was breathing down his neck. If Phoebe had been there, her eyes would be burning violently with that blue flame that tortured him silently. Monica looked at him with concern as the icy waves of breath rolled down his back.
Do it John! Or I'll hurt your son.
It was killing John. It was hurting him, destroying him. So this is what death feels like? He asked himself, not receiving an answer.
"Monica." He said quietly as she stood up. The Agent was trembling almost. A cold shiver rolled down their spines as the room froze over like a snow storm. Their breath came out in white puffs.
"What's happening?" Monica asked, looking around as she rubbed her arms to keep warm. John shook his head.
"Come on." He said, taking her hand and leading her to the door. His hand burned on the knobs from how cold it was. "Damn it!"
Monica took out her weapon and fired three rounds into the door near the knob. She kicked the door open and the two emerged into the afternoon air, warmed and completely free. It billowed around them as the door closed.
"John what's going on?" She asked him as they got into the car. John reversed quickly and put the car into Drive.
"We have to go back to where this all started. And we have to finish it."
Monica didn't have a response. She placed a hand on John's shoulder and let him drive.
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There was blood. All over the floor there was blood. And it was moving. As the puddle grew bigger someone was dying. The puddle spread across the floor.
She searched for the cause, but she knew the answer. It was lucid in the dream, keeping her in full knowledge of the events. There would be a gunshot. And there would be blood. And then there would be silence. And the frozen feeling would creep away from her dying insides.
Phoebe snapped awake from her dream as the car came to a halt outside the apartment. She hadn't expected falling asleep. The drive was short, but it gave her plenty of time to catch up on ten seconds of Z's as the guys got out and walked to the door. Phoebe followed, knowing they had protested against her coming. They had said it was too dangerous. They had said she was crazy. But who didn't mention those things to her in this day and age? Well there was her parents, who's philosophy was that their daughter should be institutionalized. Phoebe had openly told them to screw off that morning.
"We all ready?" Joe asked. Brian nodded and so did Phoebe.
"Let's chase." She announced, walking in the front, without waiting for the other two to protect her. When the time came, they wouldn't be able to anyways.
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John walked to the door of the apartment, feeling some form of emptiness wash over him. He felt like he was at the gates of Hell, and that inside the apartment the Devil was waiting for him. Monica stood protectively at his side, gun in hand.
"I can't believe this." She murmured.
"Better start."
"I know. But this is just too insane." She replied. John nodded.
"Yep. But I guess that's why we're here." He said, getting a small smile. He reached for the door handle.
"What are you doing here?" Phoebe asked, coming up the stairs with camera in hand and Joe and Brian following. "I thought you were leaving?"
"I have to get my son back." John said, opening the door and finding nothing there. The house was empty, as he expected. "Although, your help could be nice."
"Sounds good to me." Joe said, walking in with Brian on his heels. Monica stepped inside the apartment as Phoebe held out her camera.
"Just shoot. And don't think." She said, stepping over the tape and into the house. Phoebe walked past Monica and said nothing more.
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The door slammed behind him as he walked inside. John turned quickly, the door locking intricately with clicks and sounds that faded off into nowhere. He looked at Monica, who had fear written all over her face, as the sounds of movement interrupted them.
"Got a live one!" Joe shouted from the kitchen, as the cupboards opened and plates and dishes fell to the floor. Brian narrowly missed having shard of porcelain impale his face, as Phoebe dashed to the kitchen. The living room had other plans for her, as the rug pulled itself from under her and threw her to the floor.
"Whatever happens…" John said quietly, a sense of urgency in his voice. Monica watched him as he kissed her again and pulled back. "I want you to know that I love you."
"I'm not saying goodbye." She replied surely. There was the sound of growling and something hitting the floor heavily. John kissed her again before they started walking down the hall.
"You might have too." He warned. Monica shook her head no as they walked to the living room. She wouldn't say goodbye again. Never again.
The picture in the hall shattered as John stepped past it, the pieces hitting Monica and thrusting themselves into her skin. Doggett turned and threw the frame to the floor, hugging Monica slowly as she clenched her eyes at the stings of glass. John held her tightly.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." She murmured.
"I'm beginning to think you're right." Blood moved over his fingers and hit the floor. The house creaked and he looked around, seeing the hallway floor boards splinter and crack as the hall compressed itself on the two. They ran, turning into the living room, as the hall groaned and came back to normal size.
But things weren't much better.
Phoebe was in a corner, watching it with fascination even though a thin strip of blood was falling from her lip. Blue was dancing across her eyes as she looked at the two Agents.
"Agent Doggett!" She called, getting his attention as she tossed the bracelet to him. The second it landed on the floor the action in the living room stopped. John picked it up, the couch immediately throwing itself into a wall. Phoebe stood up, setting her camera to the floor and stepped into the living room, daring the couch to hit her.
"Just shoot." She murmured, her voice amplifying the memory in Doggett's brain. He took out his weapon, aiming it at the couch. Phoebe closed her eyes, drawing closer.
Monica felt something grab her around the waist and throw her to the floor, pushing her back into the living room.
"Monica!" John shouted, preparing to shoot at her. Phoebe looked from the couch to him. The couch dropped suddenly, and the black form moved to the spirit of Harvey, who was holding Monica still. Phoebe rushed forward, grabbing Harvey by the throat and crushing ghostly cockroaches out of him. Monica rolled over, retreating to Doggett as the black form swooped up on her and made a stab at her with his giant claw.
"Reyes duck!" Phoebe screamed, watching her drop to the floor. Phoebe ran forward and John shot. He shot blindly and for a split second, the black demon actually appeared in front of his eyes. Black blood splattered and Harvey disappeared, as the Demon tumbled to the floor in a flood of black and red.
"Just shoot." He mumbled to himself.
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John opened his eyes. Monica stood up. And blood moved across the floor.
Phoebe got up, wincing as she gripped her side. A solitary tear slid down her cheek and more of her blood tumbled to the floor. Nobody moved. Phoebe could hear her heart beating in her ears, ringing her and begging her to come home.
"It's over." She said, staring at the black demon writhing on the ground. Her eyes were fading, the blue tumbling backwards into mists of green. She stared at the floor as Joe and Brian came from the kitchen, seeing their friend staggering and breathing rapidly. Phoebe grabbed a wall with her bloodied hand, a red hand print appearing on the white paint on the walls. She stared at the form.
"Phoebe." Brian said, rushing to her. John said nothing, the gun in his hands idle. Monica looked at the two boys as Phoebe sank to the floor. Brian pressed his palm to it, watching her mouth move.
"You know, in a lot of ways…" She began, breathing heavily. "I was never alive to begin with."
John looked away as Phoebe's eyes closed for the last time.
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