Part 5.

Later that evening Monica did as she promised herself earlier that day and jogged to the beach. She could hear the seagulls soaring overhead, and the screams of excitement as a young child dipped her toes into the water. When she neared the rolling waves, she slipped off her running shoes and socks. The water felt glorious between her toes and she could feel herself finally begin to relax. She began to walk at a leisurely pace and took in the wonderful aroma of the salty air. Up ahead she could see a young couple obviously in love. They huddled together as they strolled, every now and again leaning in and kissing sweetly. Monica could feel the sadness role over her as she couldn't help but watch. That had been one of her dreams. To be able to stroll with John on a beach, with water lapping at their feet and a gorgeous sunset casting beautiful warm colours everywhere. She would be holding hands with him and then John would lift her into the air and pretend to drop her headfirst into the currents. She could feel the tears threatening again and forced herself to clear her head. Now was not the time for this. She must think of the events that had happened today and what she should do about this case that she had been assigned too.

She could tell Agent Ryan was going to be a problem. He was a damn good cop, but he was also damn good at getting what he wanted. Too cocky, Monica thought to herself as she kicked a pebble into the retreating waves. He was going to make things difficult for her, she could already tell. She knew she had gotten her message across when she gave him an icy look while he tried to flirt with her during lunch. Well, it had to be stopped. No only was it against Bureau policy but she was not interested, period. At least he had taken it well and they had been civil towards each other the rest of the day. It was so unlike her to shut people out. But this was not a typical situation for her, and she was trying to handle it all the best way she could.
Also not typical was this case she had been assigned to. But this not typical' she could handle. With all of her experiences in the X-Files, hardly anything came as a shock anymore. Even though she knew she could handle it professionally, this case was such a heartbreaker. A young girl was being accused of stealing jewellery in five jewellery stores, yet her parents say she could never have done it. The-thirteen-year-old was sound asleep during each break in. The jewellery store owners all identify her as the culprit, yet the young teen has strong alibis for the time of each crime. Well, maybe not so strong. Parents had lied before in order to keep their children from going to jail. Yet, Monica had a strong instinct that this young girl was not their suspect. And she knew that it was the best to trust her instincts when she had nothing concrete to go off of.

When Monica felt the wind chill suddenly rise, she glanced around and realized it was growing dark rapidly. No one else was on the beach and the seagulls were beginning to settle down for the night. Well done Agent', Monica thought, anyone could have jumped you with a gun and you would have been no match because you were in your own little world.' With one last look out into the vast ocean, she turned around and jogged back to her apartment.

Part 6.

John pulled himself out of his bed and had to take a minute to unravel the sheets that were bunched all around him. It had been another sleepless night and he could feel a migraine brewing inside his head. Going into the bathroom, he downed two aspirin and stared at himself in the mirror.

You're a sorry looking son of a bitch.
With that, John turned around and got ready for work. He didn't have to be into work, technically, until tomorrow but he had to go in. He had to continue his search for Monica.

When John got to work, he went directly to the basement office without stopping to chat with any fellow agents. He had a goal and was determined to get it. He got onto the FBI database immediately upon entering the office and, like yesterday, he began to type in Monica's information. And like yesterday, he was denied access.

Damn it! John got up and walked around the office. Where the hell would they send her? Maybe it's not the where' he should be looking for, but the why'. If he could find out the why', then he might find out the where'. But where was he suppose to start? Apparently only Skinner and Kersh knew why she had been transferred. And Skinner was sure as hell not going to tell him. He made that crystal clear. And he wasn't even going to attempt to question Kersh. So John was just going to have to find it himself.

Since it was Sunday afternoon, very few agents were in the building. Going up to Skinner's office, he could see immediately that Skinner was one of the few agents that just might have a life outside the FBI. With a small chuckle, John whipped out his pen knife and kneeled down to try and work the doorknob.

You're never going to get in there with that pathetic piece of metal.
John whirled around and knocked his shoulder against the secretary's desk. Grimacing, John shot Mulder a lethal look. What the hell are you doing here?

Well, I thought you might need some help, and well, it looks like you do, Mulder kneeled down in front of the door and whipped out a little tool case he had zippered in the side pocket of his jacket.

I don't need your help, and as you and Scully have already said, you don't want to help me. John gritted his teeth and was forced to watch as Mulder worked his magic. Three seconds later and the agents were walking into the office.

In about 6 minutes a guard will be making his way down this hall. After him another guard will follow in four minutes. The second one is the one to watch out for because he makes it a habit to check each office on this floor.

Glaring at him, John pulled open the top drawer to Skinner's desk. I don't even want to ask how you know that. Hell, I don't even want you here.

Maybe not, but you would never have gotten in here in time with that wimpy boy scout knife if I hadn't happened to stop by with my bad boys. Mulder padded his jacket pocket and began to look on top of Skinner's desk.

Without a reply, John continued to rifle through the top drawer. Seeing nothing, he went for the second drawer. When he saw it was locked, Mulder whipped out his tools again and was about to go to work when John grabbed them out of his hand.

Give me that. I can do that.

Backing off, Mulder put both hands up jokingly and then started to pace around the office, checking his watch.

John slid the drawer open and as Mulder looked on, began to rifle through the contents. Just when he thought he had turned up another dead end, he came across a small torn slip of paper with Monica's name on it and half of a word that had been torn off. The word was . What the hell does this mean? Before John could ponder over it, Mulder clasped his hand on John's shoulder.

We gotta split, NOW! John slipped the paper into his pocket and they quickly put everything back, locked the drawer and shuffled the top of Skinner's desk back to what it originally looked like. They turned off the lamp and walked towards the door. As they neared the door, they could see the door knob began to turn.