He noticed that she wasn't her usual perky self, But John Doggett wasn't all that worried about his partner. She had cried sometimes after an unusually gruesome crime scene, and although never imediatly after viewing the body, he understood why. The victim was a young girl, only 16 years- old. She had ran away from home a few weeks before with her boyfriend, who turned up hours later in a video chatroom, attempting to seduce another young girl. The worst thing about it was that the girl was the daughter of Maryland's governor. The guy had beat her within inches of her life, then left her to die a slow, painful death. His claim was that she deserved it, she was a whiny, demanding little bitch, and that was when Doggett noticed Monica chewing her bottem lip so ferociously it started to bleed. She ended up walking out on the questioning, claiming to be fine when Doggett asked her about it later. He knew better, but he also knew not to persue it. Monica was a stubborn woman, and continuing to bother her would've only succeeded in pissing her off.
Her eyes were glazed over, so he knew that she had been drinking the night before, but she was perfectly functional now, so he didn't question her about it. She accidently brushed his hand when she was looking at the girl's morgue photos, and John felt that familiar feel of butterflies explode through his chest. Ever scince the X-files had been closed a few months ago, and the partners weren't faced with running for their lives from ghosts and goblins, john had been feeling funny feelings in his abdomen when ever Monica touched him, much less smiled at him. Then his stomach did an outright flip, almost jumping through his esophagus. He wondered momentarilly about Monica's feelings, and what she waould say about his mental ramblings about her, then noticed as a tear dropped on the photos, still in her hands.
"Monica, What's the matter? Tell me what's wrong." He took the pictures from her and guided her slowly to his chair behind his desk. He took a moment to notice the way her back seemed to have been molded for his hands, then focused on her tears, she wasn't a crier, and only reacted this strongly to a case that had personnal rings to it.
"She's like me...Or like I was, only I made it." Monica's tears flowed freely know, and even with as much as he knew about her, he still did'nt know what to do. so he kept his hand on her back, and tried as hard as he could to comfort a pain he didn't understand, "Well, Monica, maybe-uh- maybe it's that- uh- that you were lucky, or-a- something like that."
She chuckled an unhappy laugh, trying to stop crying, but not quite succeeding, "Luck sucks. Some people have it, some people don't. I was one of those people lucky enough to have never known their parents, and lucky enough to get a couple of other parents who had 6 other kids, and barely enough to feed them. Not to metion the fact that i was lucky enough for every godamn relationship I've ever been in to fail miserably, or worse. Maybe now it's time for me to realize all that extra luck in my life, right John? I'm alive, not happy, drinking myself into a stupor 4 nights a week, when the TV doesn't do a good job of feeding my brain with enough shit to keep me from jumping out my damn 8th floor apartment window!!!! Wow!! Look at all of that unrealized luck lurking right out the fucking widow...laughing at me."
Doggett didn't know what to say, afraid that if he said something, she would run off into another tangent that he didn't know what to say after, so he just rubbed her back, trying awkardly to comfort her still sobbing body, wanting nothing more than to kiss the tears and bitterness away from her, and to show her that luck really was alive, hell, he had found her, right?
Her eyes were glazed over, so he knew that she had been drinking the night before, but she was perfectly functional now, so he didn't question her about it. She accidently brushed his hand when she was looking at the girl's morgue photos, and John felt that familiar feel of butterflies explode through his chest. Ever scince the X-files had been closed a few months ago, and the partners weren't faced with running for their lives from ghosts and goblins, john had been feeling funny feelings in his abdomen when ever Monica touched him, much less smiled at him. Then his stomach did an outright flip, almost jumping through his esophagus. He wondered momentarilly about Monica's feelings, and what she waould say about his mental ramblings about her, then noticed as a tear dropped on the photos, still in her hands.
"Monica, What's the matter? Tell me what's wrong." He took the pictures from her and guided her slowly to his chair behind his desk. He took a moment to notice the way her back seemed to have been molded for his hands, then focused on her tears, she wasn't a crier, and only reacted this strongly to a case that had personnal rings to it.
"She's like me...Or like I was, only I made it." Monica's tears flowed freely know, and even with as much as he knew about her, he still did'nt know what to do. so he kept his hand on her back, and tried as hard as he could to comfort a pain he didn't understand, "Well, Monica, maybe-uh- maybe it's that- uh- that you were lucky, or-a- something like that."
She chuckled an unhappy laugh, trying to stop crying, but not quite succeeding, "Luck sucks. Some people have it, some people don't. I was one of those people lucky enough to have never known their parents, and lucky enough to get a couple of other parents who had 6 other kids, and barely enough to feed them. Not to metion the fact that i was lucky enough for every godamn relationship I've ever been in to fail miserably, or worse. Maybe now it's time for me to realize all that extra luck in my life, right John? I'm alive, not happy, drinking myself into a stupor 4 nights a week, when the TV doesn't do a good job of feeding my brain with enough shit to keep me from jumping out my damn 8th floor apartment window!!!! Wow!! Look at all of that unrealized luck lurking right out the fucking widow...laughing at me."
Doggett didn't know what to say, afraid that if he said something, she would run off into another tangent that he didn't know what to say after, so he just rubbed her back, trying awkardly to comfort her still sobbing body, wanting nothing more than to kiss the tears and bitterness away from her, and to show her that luck really was alive, hell, he had found her, right?