Title: Full Circle

Author: Traci (traci_ann@yahoo.com)

Disclaimer: Not mine.  ‘Nough said.

Rating: R for gore and violence

Category: Case involving Doggett and Reyes

Spoilers:  Nada really – only mild references to
Doggett’s son in relation to the story.  Oh, and a
brief mention of the mysterious necklace Monica was
wearing in ‘Sunshine Days.’

WARNING:  This is a murder case.  There are many
GRAPHIC descriptions of various crime scenes of murder
and mutilation (not done for shock value however).  If
you are sensitive to such matter please don’t torment
yourself by reading it.  Trust me.  Some of the scenes
turned my stomach and I’m writing the thing!  Also
involves child murder victims.

Notes:  I should NOT be allowed to read FBI profiling
books.  Oh, wait, my psycho uncle fits most of the
profiles in that book and oh, wait, thanks to the
stupid laws he’s out on the streets no matter what he
does!  It’s lovely, really.  The laws suck bigtime! 

Thanks to Tracy (aka Dragon Queen) for suffering
through my writer’s block and insecurities with this
one heheheh.  And Kelly for reading it and, though
sickened by it, still wanted more!

Feedback greatly acknowledged at traci_ann@yahoo.com


‘Full Circle’


“One of the bodies is in here, Sir.”  The young
officer stepped aside to let Sargent Mark Armend in
the bedroom.  “They’re still searching for others,” he
added quietly.

Armend took in a sharp breath then nearly gagged.  The
stench of decaying flesh assaulted his nostrils.  The
sight before him turned his stomach.  In all his
fifteen years on the Boston police force, he had never
seen anything quite like what he was witnessing at
that moment.  On the floor beside the bed lay the
mangled remains of a woman.  Barely out of her
twenties, all features were unrecognizable.  Streaks
and spots of blood covered all four walls as well as
the ceiling and the puddle on the floor beneath the
victim had nearly dried to a sticky goo.  

The young officer gave him time then told him, “There
are two more victims in the shed and a fourth, a
child, in the basement.  The attic and surrounding
yard is presently being search, Sir.”

Nodding, Armend carefully stepped over to the body and
crouched beside it.  “What kind of… animal can do such
a thing?”  Glancing up, he saw a framed portrait on a
nearby dresser.  “This her?” he asked.

“We believe so.  The hair color matches and the height
seems about right from what we can tell.”

“Any leads yet?”

“Numerous fingerprints.  But which belong to the
family and which, if any, belong to the killer we have
to wait for the reports.”

Slowly, he stood up.  “Good work.  I’ll be at the shed
if you need me.”

Once outside, Armend inhaled deeply but nothing was
going to remove the smell.  Taking a deep breath and
holding it, he approached the officers who were
investing the crime scene at the shed.

“Um, Sargent,” one of the officers began.  “If you
thought what you saw in there was bad…”

He merely nodded in understanding so the officer
stepped aside.  Turning his flashlight on, Armend
stood outside the shed door and shone the light in. 
Inside lay two bodies, far beyond recognition.  Were
they also family members?  Friends?  Strangers in the
wrong place at the wrong time?  There was no way to
tell by sight if they were male of female.  In one a
pitchfork had been driven through the chest and drawn
down as if someone were raking leaves in the backyard.
 The other had been skinned by a chainsaw.  On both a
sandblaster had been used to do away with any
recognizable facial features.  

Silently he made his way back to the house.  There was
still one more known body that he had not yet taken a
look at.  One victim he had been trying to forget
about.  His feet felt like lead as he descended the
creaky, wooden basement steps. 

The officers down there stopped what they were doing
and stepped aside to let him see.   His heart pounded.
 He swallowed hard.  Before him, pinned up by a number
of hunting knives against the far wall was the body of
a fourth victim – a six-year-old boy.  The killer had
brutally gutted him like an animal and had placed his
internal organs neatly in a row beneath him.  Turning
his head for a moment, Armend noticed the other
officers on the case had not faired much better with
the scene either as a bucket of vomit sat off in the
corner.

“I want this monster,” was all Sargent Armend hissed
before leaving the basement.

****************

“Good morning, John,” chirped Monica Reyes from her
desk in their basement office.

“Dare I ask how many cups of coffee you’ve already
had?” he asked, hanging his jacket up behind the door.

“Uh, two.”

“So far,” he added with a smile.

Smiling at his comment, she turned her attention back
to the report on her desk.

“Anything good?” he asked, getting his own cup of
coffee.

“Nah, typical report stuff.  No new cases.”

For the first time in a long time the X-Files division
of the FBI had been quiet… too quiet.  Not even a UFO
sighting.  In the nearly three years that Special
Agent John Doggett had been assigned to the division,
he never recalled a dull moment but now it was going
on three weeks with nothing.  He sighed loudly.

“Bored?” Monica asked with a chuckle.

“A little, I guess.”  He watched her as she typed up a
report.  Being so close to the holidays, she had taken
to dressing comfortably since most people were on
vacation from the bureau anyway.  Her shoulder-length
chestnut hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she
wore glasses instead of contacts.  One thing, however,
always remained the same with her – her air of
confidence and her sense of calmness.  Two things that
had gotten him through more than she’d ever know. 
Suddenly he found himself looking into her warm, brown
eyes.

“You must be bored if you think watching me type is
interesting.”

“Wanna tell me why we’re still stuck here at work when
so many of our loyal co-workers have the next week
off?”

“We’re gluttons for punishment?” she offered. 
“Dedicated to our jobs?”

He laughed out loud.  “Yeah, that’s it.”  His phone
rang.  “Doggett.”

Monica went back to typing.  She was determined to get
all their reports done and turned in before Christmas.
 John sinking down into his chair, however, got her
attention and she walked over to his desk.

“Do they have a motive?”  He remained silent as the
other party spoke.  “Any suspects?”

Monica tried to find out who it was but he held up his
finger telling her to wait.  She sat on the edge of
his desk.

“I’ll look into it and see what we can do.  I’ll be in
touch.”  Hanging up the phone, he sighed and ran a
hand over his face then looked up at Monica.

“John?”

“We may have ourselves a case, though not an X-file.”

“What?”

“That was an old friend of mine.  Sargent Mark Armend
up in Boston.  He was hoping he might be able to use
your expertise on ritual murders.”

“Okay, what’s the case?”

John shrugged.  “He’s faxing over the preliminary
reports now.  But he sounded pretty shaken so it must
be bad.”

The fax machine rang and within moments they were
stooped over John’s desk with the report spread out.

Monica stood staring at them in disbelief.  Her face a
cross between shock and disgust.

“Well?”

“I don’t think this is ritualistic in the sense of
satanistic or cultist.”

“Alright, I’ll call him back and tell him we can’t
help.”

“No, John.  I think we do have to help on this.”

“But you just said…”

She turned to look at him.  “I said it’s not satanic
or cult related.  But… I just think we need to help on
this.  I can’t explain it.”

“Another feeling?” he asked in a voice that was
crossed between accusing and understanding.

She merely nodded.  

“Means we have to go to Boston.  And may mean we’re
away for the holidays.”

“I know.”  She hesitated, and then added, “If you’d
rather not, I understand.  It can’t be easy seeing
that boy… But I have to.”

His crystal blue eyes searched hers for any sign of
doubt or hesitation but he found none.  She had always
been one to follow her heart and her inner feelings
and over the years he had come to trust her, maybe not
her feelings, but her and her passion.  “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll let him know we’ll be up later this
afternoon.”

However, her attention had already returned to the
report before her.  Something was drawing her to it
and she needed to know why.  The thought of dragging
John into a case involving the murder of a young boy
after what had happened to John’s own son so many
years back upset her but she knew he needed to be
there too.

Mark Armend sat in his office staring into space.  The
images of the murder victims played in his mind like a
slide show.  Why them?  Why that way?  A knock on his
door startled him.

“I’m sorry, Sarg, but there’s been another one.”

“Same signature?”

The officer nodded.

Armend grabbed his coat and followed him to the scene.

It was a fifteen-minute ride to the latest crime
scene.  Mark sat in his car outside the cozy suburban
home taking in the serene image before stepping into
the horrors that awaited him just beyond the white oak
door.

“We’ve found six victims here,” the pathologist told
him upon stepping through the threshold.  Camera
flashes were going off in three nearby rooms
simultaneously.  “Four adults and two teenagers.”  The
pathologist followed Armend into the living room where
two of the victims were.  “We believe two of the
adults are the parents of the two teenagers due to a
family portrait on the wall in the other room but we
do not know about the other two.”

Nodding, Armend stared at the couch.  Once a pastel
blue, it was now soaked through with blood.  Two
victims lay sprawled out, their abdomens sliced open
yet their faces were untouched.  Two pairs of cold,
empty eyes stared up at the ceiling.  “What did you
see?” he quietly asked.

All the people in the room jumped when his cell phone
rang.  Wordlessly he stepped outside the house to
answer the call.  “Armend.”

“It’s John.  We’re checking into the hotel now.  Do
you want to meet us at the station?”

Mark sighed.  “You may as well come out to 769 Shiley
Lane.  There’s been another attack.  I’m warning you
and you’d better warn your partner, it’s not a pretty
sight here either.”

“How many this time?”

“Six.  Four adults and two teens.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour.”

**********************

Monica and John showed their badges and went around
the police barricades to the house.  Mark met them
outside.  

“Hi, John,” he said, extending his hand.  “Sorry we’re
not seeing each other under better circumstances.”

John shook his hand and nodded.  “Mark, this is my
partner, Monica Reyes.  Monica, Mark.”

The two exchanged greetings.

“Have either of you eaten recently?” he nonchalantly
asked, leading the two agents inside.

“No,” Monica answered.

“Good.”  He led them first to the living room.

Monica immediately turned away for a moment to regain
her composure.  A chill ran down her spine.  

“You alright, Monica?” John asked.

She turned back and gave him a small smile.  “Yeah.”

Armend handed them both a pair of latex gloves.  “We
aren’t sure who these two are yet.  The other four we
have managed to identify as the occupants of this
house.”  

Crouching before the bodies, Monica carefully looked
over them while John and Mark discussed the reports. 
“Was this found at the other scene?” Monica asked.

Armend and John stood behind her.

“What are you looking at, Agent Reyes?” asked Armend.

“This.”  She pointed to a small burn mark found on
each of the bodies just above what appeared to be the
initial incision.

But both Doggett and Armend shook their heads.

“I don’t see anything, Monica,” John told her.  

She looked up at the two men.  “These two burn marks. 
They look like tiny circles?”

Again both men shook their heads.

“I’m sure you’re both tired from the flight and such,”
offered Armend.  “Why don’t you go back to the hotel
and I’ll send a copy of the file over in a little
while.”

Monica’s jaw dropped.  How could they not see the
marks?  She shook it off.  “Actually, I’d rather take
a look at the other victims.”  Standing up, both men
knew better than to argue with her.

Leading them into the upstairs bedroom, he stepped
aside to let them in.  On the bed lay what appeared to
be the wife/mother.  She had been neatly cut in half
across the torso with another vertical cut down the
middle where the skin had been pulled aside exposing
her insides.  The husband lay face down on the floor
in front of the bed, having been killed in much the
same fashion.  

Again, Monica noticed a tiny burn mark above the
initial incision on each body but said nothing more
about it.

Once they were outside, Sargent Armend turned to
Monica.  “Well, do you think I’m dealing with a cult
or something here?”  

Knowing he was tired and stressed, she tried not to
take offence to the tone he used.  “As strange as it
sounds, no I don’t.  I’m not sure what you’re dealing
with but it doesn’t seem to have the same M.O. as a
cult type killing.”

“Great.”  He paused.  “As sad as this sounds I was
really hoping it was.  At least then we’d have
something to go on.”

“Any help we can offer…” John offered.

Mark smiled, probably for the first time that day. 
“Thanks, John.  I’m probably going to take you two up
on that offer.”  He turned to Monica.  “And thank you,
Agent Reyes.”

“Monica.”  Off his expression, she added, “If you call
him John, you have to call me Monica.”  She gave him a
warm smile.

“Monica it is.  I’ll call you guys later tonight after
I get back to the precinct.  Go get dinner.”  Glancing
back that house, he added, “or maybe not.”

“We’ll get this guy, okay?” John assured him.

“I just hope he doesn’t get many more before we find
him.”

***************

 The drive back to the hotel was a quiet one.

“You hungry?” John finally asked.

“Not really, but if you want to stop somewhere…”  She
continued to look out the passenger window wondering
how two crimes so horrific could happen in such a
quiet, middle-class suburb.

“After that I don’t think I’ll be eating for awhile.” 
He paused.  “What are you thinking?”

She turned to him and smiled.  “Nothing really.  Just
how safe all these people feel out here and then
something like this happens.”  Monica shrugged.  “I
dunno. Stupid really I guess.”

“No, not really.  That was the reason Barbara and I
moved out to Long Island.  We didn’t want to raise…” 
His voice caught slightly.  “Luke in the city.  We
thought the ‘burbs’ were safer.”  Quickly, he fell
silent.

Monica watched him without saying a word.  She had
known this case was going to hit a little too close to
home, but she had never known John had purposely moved
to the suburbs to keep his son safe only to have him
brutally murdered – taken from his own block. 
Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back outside
of the window.

John sat up abruptly.  Sweat covered his face and then
he realized the phone ringing had awakened him from
his nightmare.  

“Doggett.”  He glanced at the clock to see it was only
four-thirty in the morning.

“It’s me.”  Mark sighed. 

“Another one?”

“Yeah.  A block away from the scene earlier today. 
Two victims this time.”

“We’ll be right there.”  He hung up and took a moment
to collect himself.  Sliding on his suit pants, he
knocked on the connecting door to Monica’s room.  When
she didn’t answer, he slowly opened it and peered in. 
A small smile formed on his lips upon seeing her
sleeping soundly.  Softly he walked over to her
bedside and shook her gently.  “Monica, get up.”

She mumbled something and turned away from him.

“Monica.”

“What?”

“There’s been another one.”

Yawning, she turned to face him, her sleepy eyes
finding his.  “How many?”

“Two.  I told Mark we’d be right there.”

Sitting up, she yawned again and looked at the clock. 
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours!”

He merely nodded and went back to his room to finish
getting dressed.

***********

The partners arrived at the crime scene just after
5:00am.  They were met by Sargent Armend.  

“Sorry to call you in so early.”

“It’s alright,” Monica said.  “The sooner we get this
monster the better off we’ll all be.”

“Same brutality?” John asked.

Mark shook his head.  “Actually, no.”

Monica looked at him.  “Then are you sure it’s the
same killer?”

He nodded and led them to the living room.

There on one of the empty walls was a note and diagram
of a dissected human body written in the victim’s
blood.

		 ‘I am invincible.  Fear me for I cleanse the
unclean.’

“It could be a copycat,” offered John.

“Could be,” agreed Mark.  “But it’s not.  Our
pathologist has already confirmed the same weapon was
used.”

Monica, meanwhile, had gone off to examine the bodies.
 Again, she saw a tiny, burned circle on each victim. 
Why could no one else see it?  Again, she said nothing
about it.  When she re-joined Doggett, Armend was
telling him they were pushing all forensic tests
through quickly since the murders were occurring so
often.  

“There’s really nothing more you two can do here at
the moment,” he told them.  “Why don’t you see what
you can find out through your FBI channels and we’ll
get together later this morning to compare notes.  The
results should be back around eleven.”

Doggett looked at Reyes.  “You ready?”

She only nodded and followed him out to their car.

Once away from the scene, John looked over at her. 
“Okay, out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“You’re keeping something from me.”

She glanced at him, then looked away.  “You wouldn’t
believe me if I told you.”

Pulling off the road, he parked the car and turned to
her.  “Come on, Mon, it’s not like you to keep things
from me.”

Her eyes met his.  “Remember yesterday when I
mentioned the circle marks on the victims?”

“The ones I didn’t see?  Yes.”

“It wasn’t just on those two.  I saw the same mark on
the other victims at the scene and then again just
now.”

He stared at her.

“See, I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that.”  He hesitated before continuing. 
“Over the time we’ve been partners I’ve learned not to
write off your… intuition or whatever it is.  But I’m
just having a hard time accepting you’re seeing
something no one else can.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not easy for me having you and
Sargent Armend thinking I’m hallucinating,” she
snapped. 

They sat in silence for a moment.  

“Giving you the benefit of the doubt that you are
actually seeing this, what do you think it means?”

Monica shook her head.  “I don’t know.  Maybe I was
wrong and it is somehow tied into ritualistic
killings.  I’ve just…”  Her eyes met his once again. 
“I’ve just never seen anything, not matter what the
ritual was, this extreme.  If I didn’t know better I’d
almost say we were dealing with the devil himself.”

“Do you want off of this?”

“No.  Whoever or whatever this is needs to be stopped.
 If we can help at all…”

He nodded and started the car again.  “Why don’t we
grab something to eat and head back to the hotel."  We
can check into any past X-File cases and see if
there’s ever been anything similar and if not, maybe
someone at the bureau knows something that can help.”

“Sounds good.”

*************************

Nursing his third cup of coffee, Armend sat at his
desk staring at the forensic reports before him. 
“There has to be something you missed,” he finally
said.

“I’m sorry, we went over everything twice.”  Forensics
expert Sally Kaufield sat across from him.  Pushing a
lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she leaned over
his desk.  “See this here?” she asked, pointing to the
report of the young boy who had been hanging on the
basement wall.  

“Yeah, but I’m not seeing anything that will help.”

“That’s just it.  His wounds were the same, yet there
was a slight difference.  So slight that it seems
insignificant but, I don’t know, maybe it’s something.
 All the other cuts were in straight lines, whether
horizontal or vertical.  His were that but also
included three diagonal cuts.”

Armend shrugged.  “Maybe the killer was in a rush at
that point.  Maybe the boy was the first victim and he
was taking his time but then someone upstairs got up
and spooked him.”

Kaufield sat back.  “Maybe.  I really don’t know.  My
team is working overtime on this.  We’re running
another group of tests but I doubt we’ll find anything
different.”

“Great.”  He looked up when there was a knock at his
door.  “Come on in,” he said to Doggett and Reyes. 
Motioning over to Kaufield, he said, “This is our
forensics expert, Sally Kaufield.”  He looked at
Sally.  “These are the FBI agents I was telling you
about.  Agent John Doggett and Agent Monica Reyes.”

They exchanged greeting then sat on the couch in the
office.  

“Sally was dropping off the reports.”

“And?” asked John.

“And nothing,” Sally offered.  “I was just telling the
Sarg here we’ve gone over each victim at least twice
and we’re doing a third go-over but nothing.”

John glanced at Monica then turned his attention back
to Sally.  “What about any burn marks?”

Monica looked at Doggett and inside smiled.

“Burn marks?”

Armend jumped in.  “The other day, the case on Shirley
Street, Agent Reyes thought she noticed some marks on
the victims.”

She shook her head slowly.  “No, not that I noticed.” 
She turned to Monica.  “Where were they? I’ll look
again.”

“They varied, but they were all right above what
appeared to be the initial incision in each victim. 
They’re tiny circles.”

Sally shrugged.  “I’ll let you know what I find.” 
Standing up, she turned back to Armend.  “I’ve got to
head back.  I’ll send over the next report as soon as
I get it in.”

He nodded then turned his attention back to the
agents.  “Anything?”

John shook his head.  “Nothing.  But we’re still
looking into it.”  If there had ever been a time he
wished he could call upon the expertise of Dana Scully
it was now.  Being an experts at autopsies, he was
sure his former partner could offer some help but,
with her life in danger, she had been forced into
hiding with her former partner, Fox Mulder, and there
was no way to contact them.

Almost as if reading his mind, Monica said, “Doctor
Kaufield is doing her best, John.”

For a brief moment, their eyes met.  It always
unnerved him how well she knew him.

“I’ll get a copy of this made up for you guys,” Mark
told them, leaving the office.

“How’d you know what I was thinking?” John asked when
they were alone.

She smiled.  “If I told you then what fun would I
have?”

Smiling back, he said, “I’m sure she’d be able to pick
up on something we’re all missing though.”

“I know.  But that’s not an option right now so we’ll
have to do our best.  We still have a number of X-file
cases to look at. Are there any cases you worked on
that might resemble what’s going on here?”

“Don’t you think I’d remember if I had?”

“Yeah, I suppose that wouldn’t be something you’d
forget.”  She fell silent.

“Monica?”

“Yeah?”

He stared at the floor and his voice remained quiet. 
“We have to get this guy before… before he puts
anymore parents through what I had to go through.”

Without a thought, Monica reached over and covered his
hands with her own.  “We will.”  She withdrew her hand
quickly when Armend walked back in the room.

Handing the report to John, he sat back at his desk. 
“No reason for you guys to hang around here.  Call me
if you find anything.”

The agents stood up, walking to the door.  

“We will,” John told him before closing the door
behind them.

******************

Dusk was descending upon the quiet suburban town.  A
light snow had begun falling.  There were only three
days until Christmas.  Only three days for the world
to be rid of the unclean.  

Inside a worn out, warped old shack he sat, waiting
patiently.  The small fire in the fireplace had begun
to simmer out.  It was almost time again.  This night,
he would have to work quickly.  Too many unclean still
lived

“Hey, John?”

“Yeah?”  He looked up from the desk in Monica’s room.

“What about this case?”  She sat with her legs crossed
on her bed skimming through their files on her laptop.

Walking over, he sat on the edge of the bed.  “Which
one?”

“One you and Dana worked on about two years ago. 
According to her report, it involved a… human bat?”

John let out a chuckle.  “That was *her* report.  I
never did buy into it.”

But Monica persisted.  “According to this, the bat
sought out his victims and would tear them apart.”

“Monica, assuming it was a.. .human bat… his victims
were chosen for revenge purposes.  Not at random and
he certainly didn’t dissect them.”

She sat up and stretched.  “Well, that was my
last-ditch effort.  I’ve gotta take a break.  The
words on the screen are starting to blur.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he teased.  “You’ve only been at
it for the last six hours straight.”

“Six hours?”

He nodded and stood up.  “Want room service or want to
go out and grab something to eat?”

“Let’s go out.  I could use the break.”

“I think there’s a small diner-type restaurant around
the corner.”

“Sounds good.”

****************

Monica ran down the dark alley, gun drawn.  Her heart
pounded.  They had just found Sargent Armend – what
was left of him – but John was still missing. 
  She stopped near a group of
dumpsters.  

A foot.  

Blood.  

Tears streamed down her cheeks.  “John?”  

No answer.

She stepped closer, carefully.

A gasp.

A flood of tears.

Kneeling beside him, she reached out and touched the
only part of his hand that was still covered with
skin.   “No, John!  I need you.  JOHN!  JOHN!”

She was shaking.

“Monica!”

His voice.  She could still hear his voice.  

“JOHN!”

“Monica, wake up!”

Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up, nearly
knocking John over.  Her cheeks were stained with
tears.

“You were having a nightmare.”  He sat on the edge of
the bed and immediately found her wrapped around him. 
Rubbing her back, he whispered, “It was only a
nightmare, Monica.”

She looked at him.  “You… Mark… You…”  She couldn’t
finish.

John got up and got her a glass of water and held it
as she drank.

“I’m sorry,” she sheepishly told him.  “It’s just… it
was so real.”

“Maybe we should pull out of this.”

Shaking her head, she pulled the blankets closer. 
“No.”

“Okay, but if this gets worse, I’m not taking no for
an answer.”

Nodding in agreement, she laid back down.  “I’ll be
alright, John.  Like you said it was only a
nightmare.”  

He watched her for a moment then returned to his own
room, leaving the adjoining door ajar.

**************

He could smell the uncleanness surrounding the house.

He laughed at the fence and security system – like
that could keep him out.

With one swipe of his hand, the German Shepard was
silenced.



In deafening silence, he slipped into the house
un-detected.

In the dead of night, he slipped back into the
darkness.

John knocked on the adjoining door.

“You can come in, John, I’m not going to bite.”

“Pity,” he muttered loud enough for her to here. 
“Mark called.  Another killing last night. Family of
eight this time.  Happy Christmas Eve.”

“Let me grab my coat.”

“He actually said there was no point to going over. 
It’s the same thing.  He was hoping we’d be able to
spend the time working on our end.”

Monica sighed and sipped her coffee.  “I think we
should go to the Boston office and use the resources
there.  I’ve reached the limits of access here.”

He nodded.  “How are you doing?”

She looked up at him from her chair and smiled.  “Much
better, thanks.  I’m really sorry about last night.”

“It’s okay.  I’m sure I’ll be having nightmares of my
own at some point.”

Placing his hand on t he small of her back, he
followed her out of the room.

*************

Doggett paced the floor of the research room at the
Boston Bureau office.  “Why can’t we get a break?”

Monica said nothing while searching through the
various books.

Sitting beside her, John ran his hand over the back of
his neck then watched Monica before reaching over with
one hand to massage her shoulders.

“You keep that up and I may have to hire you
full-time.”

“I’m sorry, Mon.”

“What for?”

“Ruining your Christmas.”

She turned her head to look at him.  “You didn’t ruin
anything.  It would have been ruined if you had come
here and left me in DC, however.”

He smiled and looked down at the book she had. 
“Religious Massacres?”

She shrugged.  “We’ve exhausted all other avenues.”  

His hand slid from her back and he reached for another
book.  “Vlad Dracul?  Monica, it’s Christmas, not
Halloween.”

Giving him a humored smile, she flipped through the
pages.  “Obviously it’s someone who believes he is
cleansing the world.  That plays into the religious
part.  And his obvious fascination with blood and
anatomy plays into a much darker side.  There should
be one about Jack the Ripper in here too.”  She
stopped.  

“Mon?”

Sorting through the various books, she grabbed hold of
the Jack the Ripper one.  

“You don’t think..?”

“Think about it.  He knows how to dissect like a
trained physician.  While he’s not taking organs with
him, he has a fascination with them, judging by the
way he left that boy… I think we’re dealing with
someone who idolizes Jack the Ripper only with a
religious cleansing twist.”

Doggett pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to
Armend.  “I think we have something.  We’ll be right
over.”  Hanging up, he stared at Monica.  “I have no
idea how you figured that one out, but I think you may
be right.”

Getting up and grabbing her coat, she said, “Figuring
it out is one thing, catching the monster is another.”

******************

Armend peered at the partners over the stack of files
on his desk.  “I hope it’s what we need,” he said as
they sat.

Monica and John looked at each other and John nodded
for her to begin.

“When we couldn’t find anything in our files, I
chanced looking over ritualistic killings and such and
that’s when I thought of it.”  She paused, gauging his
reaction.  “I think we are dealing with a copycat
killer of sorts.  He obviously has a knowledge of
anatomy – a very in-depth knowledge at that.  He
dissects them much in the same manner as Jack the
Ripper, though not as messily.  Yet at the same time,
with that message, he is telling us that what he is
doing is actually a good thing.”

Mark stared at her.  “Go on.”

She shrugged.  “That’s really all I have.  I think we
should look into doctors, forensic specialists,
whoever may have this type of training.  Maybe start
with ones with a history or treatment of mental
illnesses.  I really don’t know.”

Mark looked to Doggett.  

“It’s sounds reasonable to me,” John admitted.  

Glancing at the files next to him, he sighed.  “It
does make sense.  And at least it gives us some angle
here.  Think you two could help us in that department?
 The more people working on narrowing the list down…”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Doggett said.  

Armend nodded and reached for the phone as it rang. 
He closed his eyes as he listened.  Upon hanging up,
he said, “A sorority this time.”

Arriving at the scene of the latest attack, Monica
stopped after taking three steps towards the house.

“Monica?”

“I…”  Fear filled her eyes.  “I can’t go in there.”

Forgetting everything else, John’s full attention
turned toward his partner.  Touching her arm, he
forced her to look in his eyes.  “Why not?”

“I… I just can’t, John.”  She began shaking beneath
his touch.  “I… It…”  

In the next instant, John caught her as she passed
out.

*************

Standing outside the hospital room, Doggett
practically assaulted the doctor as he emerged from
Monica’s room.  “How is she?”

“She’s fine,” the doctor said.

“Fine?  She fainted.  People don’t normally do that…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Doggett.  We have run ever test and
there is nothing wrong with her.  Not even a fever. 
She did admit to being under a lot of stress recently
so my guess is it caught up with her.”

He nodded.  “Can I see her?”

“Yes.  I’m releasing her later this evening.  I’m
assuming she will have someone to look after her?”

“Yeah, she will.”  Taking a deep breath, John opened
the door to her room.

Her eyes immediately locked with his.  “It’s not the
stress, John.”

“They said there’s nothing wrong with you.”  Standing
beside her bed, he looked down when he felt her hand
touch his.

“I felt something back there.  Something… evil. 
Whoever or whatever did that was still in there.  Not
in the house, but watching.”

John stood in silence for a moment.  “I’m taking us
off this.”

“What?  You can’t.”

“I’m not risking your health or mine over this.  We
did what Armend asked us to do now it’s up to the
local officials to solve it.”

She stared hard into his eyes.  “You don’t believe
that for one second, John Doggett.  What is it?”

“I do…”  He stopped.  “Alright.”  Sitting on the edge
of the bed, he looked at her, unsure if he should tell
her the truth.  At the very least, however, she
deserved to know.  “The night before you’re
nightmare…”

Her nod urged him to go on.

“Well, I had one too.  It was dark.  There was an
alley.  I had already found Mark, or what was left of
him.  I called out to you – you had gone down the
alley…”

“And you saw a foot and a pool of blood,” she
finished.

“How…?

“That was my dream.  Only it was you, not me.”  The
lights reflected off the unshed tears in her eyes.  

“Then that settles it.  I’m not putting either one of
us at risk.  We’re going back to DC and I’m not taking
no for an answer.”

“John…”

But he shook his head.  “I’m calling Mark now.”  He
stood up but her hand held his.   “Monica, it’s not
worth it.”

“Not even if we can save people?  Prevent others from
dying?”

“And how have we done that up to this point?  We don’t
have anything more to go on other than your profile –
and we don’t even know if that profile fits!”  Letting
go of her hand, he paced the room.  “I don’t want
anymore to die, no.  But least of all I don’t want you
to die.”

She laughed.  “I’m not dying, John.  I fainted.”

“This time.”  Returning to her side, he stared at her.
 “I may not believe, but I do know that you have some…
weird… ability to sense things.  What if the next time
it’s not just fainting?”

“So what are you going to do, John?  Lock me up in a
box where no harm can reach me?” she asked bitterly.  

He ran his fingers through his hair and counted to
ten.  In a softer voice, he said, “I’m sorry, Mon,
that’s not how I meant it.”

“I know.  I’m sorry too.”

“The doctor said he’s going to release you later. 
I’ll hold off on calling Mark until then and when we
get back to the hotel we can discuss this.”

She nodded in agreement, though both knew ultimately
they would not be returning to DC until the case was
solved.

*************

Just before nine o’clock that night, he received a
call from Mark.  John sat on Monica’s bed as she took
a shower.

“How’s Monica?” Mark asked.

John looked towards the bathroom door.  “She’s fine. 
The doctor couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“That’s good.  Look, John, if this is getting to be
too much… well… I’d understand…”

He shook his head.  “We discussed that earlier and
mutually agreed we need to help you on this.”

“Okay.  But if at anytime…”

“I know, thanks.  Any news?”

“No.  But we’ve been finding new victims all day.  In
all my years I have never seen anything like this. 
Could never have imagined anything like this.  We have
a total of twenty-one new victims from today alone.”

John remained silent.

“That brings the total to nearly forty,” Mark said in
just above a whisper.

“Please tell me Massachusetts has the death penalty.”

“Personally and off the record, I don’t think that
will matter.  There is not one officer who won’t shoot
first and ask questions later on this and let me tell
you, I’ll be the first to look the other way – if I
don’t kill him first.”

Hearing the shower turn off, John said, “I’m going to
go.  Meet you at the station first thing?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.  Tell Monica I hope she feels
better.”

“I will. Thanks.”  Not wanting anymore phone calls for
a while, John turned off his cell phone completely and
ran his hands over his face.

“Was that Mark?” Monica asked, emerging from the
bathroom in a t-shirt and pajama pants.

“Yeah.  He said they found twenty-one more today.”

She sat on the bed and sighed.  “How is he able to
kill them all without being seen?  And so many at one
time?”

He turned his head towards her.  “I don’t know.”

“Why are we going on the assumption it’s only one
person doing this?” Monica suddenly asked.

John moved back and propped himself up against the
headboard while Monica lay on the pillow beside him. 
“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise.  Other than
the number of victims that is.  Are you thinking it’s
more than one?”

“I don’t know.  It doesn’t seem likely given the
extreme similarities in all the killings but…” 
Pausing in thought, she added, “What if it’s clones. 
Or those Super Soldiers?”

He shook his head.  “Doesn’t seem to be how they’d
work.”

“I know.  I guess I’m just desperate for anything at
this point.”

“Yeah.”  Glancing down at her, he said, “Why don’t I
go and let you get some sleep.  We’ve got a lot of
research tomorrow.”  

She nodded into the pillow.  “Thank you for everything
today, John.”

Resisting the urge to touch her, he merely smiled, got
up from the bed, and returned to his own room – once
again leaving the door slightly ajar.

****************

He paced back and forth restlessly in the worn down
shack.  It was Christmas Eve.  Only a few more hours
until sunrise and then it would be too late.  But now
he knew.  He knew what he had been looking for was
there.  The end to it all.  He had felt it near
earlier.  Tonight he would seek it out and end it.

John had just turned out the lights when something
inside nagged at him to look in on Monica.  Quietly,
he slid out of bed and opened the connecting door. 
She was still as he had left her, sleeping soundly and
looking more peaceful than he had seen her in a long
time.  Hesitating briefly, he walked over to her and
watched – assuring himself she was still breathing.

Slowly her eyes opened.  “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he whispered.  “Just checking up on you. 
Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” she mumbled.

Taking a deep breath, this time he did reach out and
run a finger down her cheek before leaving.

***************

He had driven around town for nearly an hour.  

Looking.

Searching.

Finally finding.

Standing outside of his car, he looked up.  

Third floor.

Fourth window from the left.

This was it.

*************

Monica’s eyes flew opened.

Her heart raced inside her.

A cold sweat covered her.

Her body shook.

It was there.

“John!” she tried to call but had no voice.

Willing herself to get her gun, she found her body
would not move.

It was there.

He was there.

Tears ran down her face.

Evil.

Pure evil.

A cold hand around her neck.

“I knew you’d arrive,” he whispered into her ear.

“H…how?” she choked out.

“You could never resist me.  You foolishly could never
let it be.”

Monica managed to turn her head and look into the
cold, empty eyes of a killer.  “Why did you do it?” 
She was still unable to get her voice above a mumbled
whisper – something John would never hear.

“You know.  You brought it.  The evil.  I had to
cleanse the evil you brought.  By cleansing you all
the evil will end.”  He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a long, sharp scalpel.

“I didn’t bring anything,” she pleaded against her
better judgement.  From her FBI training she knew
pleading was really the last thing to do, but she was
still human.

“You did, but no more.”  

His hand tightened around her neck and she could feel
herself losing consciousness.  Then a tinge of pain
where the first incision had been made.  ‘John!’ she
called out in her mind.  ‘Help me!’

“Wh.. why… the…children?”

He stopped after the first, shallow incisions and
looked at her.  “I had to prevent the evil from
entering them like before.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“You should know.  The last time we met was in a small
village outside of Dublin.”

“Ireland?”

His hand loosened its grip slightly.  “Of course.”

“I’ve… never been to… Ireland.”  Her abdomen was
growing warm from the blood seeping out through the
cut but she had to take her time.

He stared at her for a moment almost as if believing
her.  Believing he had been mistaken.  It quickly
passed and he violently pushed her head against the
headboard.  “You lie.  Evil lies.  No more questions. 
It is time to purge the world.”  He lifted the scalpel
and was slowly lowering it when suddenly he was pushed
from the bed.

It took less than thirty seconds for John to have the
killer unconscious and handcuffed, a call made to the
police, and for him to be on the bed holding Monica in
his arms.

“The ambulance will be here soon,” he whispered,
rocking her as she cried.  “Why didn’t you call for me
sooner?”

She pulled back, still holding him, and met his eyes. 
“I tried.  My voice… I had no voice.”

Placing one hand on her tear-soaked cheek, he pushed
her dampened hair from her eyes.  “At least it came
back in time.”

“What do you mean?  I couldn’t call you.  I tried up
until you came in here.”

“I heard you, Monica.  You asked me to help you.”

Being too drained to discuss it further, Monica merely
nodded.  

It was then that John saw the red seeping through her
nightshirt.  Lifting her shirt slighting, he gasped. 
“Why didn’t you say anything?”  He ran to the bathroom
and returned with a towel, holding it firmly over her
abdomen.  When he looked at her, he found her staring
down on the floor at their prisoner.  “He won’t be
hurting anyone else.”

After that it was a whirlwind of activity between the
police, including Sergeant Armend, and being rushed
off in the ambulance.

****************

The same doctor who had treated Monica earlier, met
Doggett in the waiting room.  “She’s going to be fine.
 The incision was not that deep.  She will have to
take it easy, however, for a few days so the stitches
don’t come out.”

John nodded, finally releasing the breath he had been
holding.  “No offence, but I really don’t want to have
to see you again anytime soon.”

The doctor smiled.  “No offence taken.  The feeling’s
really mutual.  She’s asking for you. I am assuming
you won’t want to leave tonight so I had one of the
nurses set some blankets and a pillow in there for
you.”

“Thank you,” he said, shaking the doctors hand.

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours,
John found himself opening the door to a hospital room
when his partner lay.  “Hey again.  Want to just rent
this room?” he asked with a grin.

“No, thanks.”  Her expression turned solemn.  

Taking her hand, he said, “It’s over, Monica.  He’s in
prison and he won’t ever be getting out.”

“I know.”  She tried to sit up but cringed in pain. 
“It’s just going to take time, I guess.  I have never
felt so much pure evil like that.”  She paused.  “What
time is it?”

Looking at his watch, he sighed.  “Four fifteen.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

Squeezing his hand, she forced a small smile.  “It’s
not your fault.  You saved me.  We got the guy.  I
guess in a way that was the greatest gift a lot of
people around here will get this year.”

“I’m going to see if they’ll let you go later today. 
That way we can at least be back home for some of
Christmas.”  He left to find the doctor, returning
fifteen minutes later.  He stopped in the doorway
watching her. Her eyes were closed and he was not sure
if she was asleep or not.  Quietly, he closed the
door.

“What’s the verdict?” she whispered.

“Says you can go.  I already booked us a flight out
which would get us back home by noon.”  Sweeping some
stray strands of hair out of her face, he smiled down
at her.  “Why don’t you get some sleep.  I’ll go back
to the hotel and pack our things and see you back here
soon.”

Already near asleep, she mumbled something and nodded.
 
Their flight back to DC had been uneventful and Monica
had slept most of the way.  John drove her back to her
apartment and was about to leave when she took his
hand.

“Why don’t you stay for a little while.  I, uh… well,
could use the company.”

“Nightmares?” he asked.

She nodded.  “I know it’s silly but…”

John took her in his arms and held her tight. 
Thoughts of how he nearly lost her again ran through
his head.  “It’s not silly.  I’ll stay as long as you
want me to.”

The afternoon was spent watching classic Christmas
movies, talking about Christmas memories from their
childhood and just being friends.  Neither one
mentioned anything about the case, figuring it could
wait until the next day – until John’s cell phone
rang.

He looked at Monica and she knew right away it was
Sergeant Armend.

“No, we haven’t been to the office,” John told him. 
“Is it really that important to do today?”  He sighed.
 “No, you’re right.  I’ll get them and fax them back
to you.”  He smiled at Monica.  “Yeah, she’s fine.” 
He listened again.  “You really don’t have to…
alright, if you feel you need too.  I’ll see you
then.”  Clicking his phone off, he turned to face
Monica on the couch.  

“What is it?”

“He said he faxed the report over and needs us to look
it over and sign it right away.  He also said he’s
flying in later to personally pick it up.”

“What time?” she asked, yawning.

“Around ten.  You don’t have to go.  I’ll meet him and
give him our signed reports.  I’m sure he’ll
understand.  Besides, I don’t think he’s staying.  I
sort of got the impression he was planning on catching
the red-eye back.”  He paused.  “I’m gonna run over
and get the reports.  I’ll be back soon.  Do you want
or need anything?”

“To not see that monster every time I close my eyes?” 
With a small smile, she shook her head.  “No, besides,
it’s Christmas, John.  Nothing is open.”

Standing up, he nodded in agreement.  “Alright then. 
I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Did Mark… um, give any reason why this monster did
what he did?”

John shook his head.  “Other than what we already
knew, no.  I guess it’s all in the report.”

She nodded and watched him leave, quickly locking the
door behind him.

***********************

Monica looked over at the clock on the wall.  John had
been gone for well over an hour.  Slightly worried,
she picked up the phone and dialed his cell number.

“Doggett.”

“It’s me.  I was just wondering where you were.”  She
heard a frustrated grunt on the other end of the line.

“Paper jammed in the fax machine.”

She tried to hide her laugh.  “Oh.  Need any help with
the great technological advancement of society?”

“HaHa.  No, I think I can handle this.  I just have to
wait for them to resend it.”  He hesitated then asked,
“You alright?”

“Yeah.  I just…”  She sighed.  “I guess I never
realized how empty this place can be.  Nothing really.
 I’ll see you when you get here.”

There was no reply.

“John?”

“Huh?  Oh, sorry.  Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”  With
that he hung up.

**********************

Another hour had passed before there was a knock on
her door.  Still slightly on edge, Monica’s heart
pounded and she instinctively reached for her gun. 
“Who is it?”

“John.”

Smiling to herself, she laid the gun on the table and
unlocked the door.  “’Bout ti… John, what is it?”

Lifting his eyes from the report, he looked at her and
handed the stack of papers to her, locking the door
behind him.

Sitting on the couch, she looked over the report twice
then over at John.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He shook his head.  “I’m sure Mark will explain it all
when he gets here.”

“I’m going with you then.  This doesn’t make any
sense.  He was there.  So was most of the police
force.  How can he possibly make up a report that
states the killer was unaware of his actions and that
not all the deaths were related?!”  She began to read
over it again when John took it from her.

“I don’t know, but the last thing you need to do is
give yourself a headache by reading it again.”

“John…”

“No.  The doctor let me bring you back only with the
promise I not let you get stressed out from anything. 
And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”  He sat beside
her.  “Neither one of us is signing this thing until
we straighten it out with Mark, okay?”

“Yeah.”  Monica sat back on the couch.  “I still can’t
believe that report, though.”

Picking up the remote, John turned on the television. 
“Mark’s plane should be here in a few hours.  Why
don’t we just relax and wait.  I’m sure there’s a good
explanation.”

**********************

The time had come for them to head out to the airport.
 However, Monica had once again fallen asleep on the
couch and John, not having the heart to wake her, left
her a note and drove to the airport.

Within minutes, Mark emerged from the plane and
immediately spotted Doggett.  “Where’s your partner?”
he asked.

“Resting,” John responded, taken aback by Mark’s
appearance.  His normally well-dressed, clean-cut
friend looked as if he hadn’t been home in days.  John
convinced himself it was probably the stress of the
last few days catching up to him.  

Upon deciding on a diner that was open on Christmas,
the men placed their order and John pulled out the
report.

“What is all this, Mark?”

“What?  It’s the report.  I need both your signatures
to finally close this case.”

“This is the report?  Haven’t you left out a few
things?  You were there too.  What’s this about this
guy not being responsible?”

Mark shrugged.  “Not enough evidence.”

John studied his expression.  Something was wrong. 
“What aren’t you telling me?”

Just then their food arrived.  

Waiting until the waitress had left, Mark sighed.  “I
can’t exactly put it out to the public that we let one
man murder that many people in that short of a time
and couldn’t catch him, can I?”

“So this is all about how you look?  How the
department looks?”

“Come on, John.  You were NYPD.  You know how it
works.”

“That was a long time ago.”  

But even while they ate, something still didn’t sit
right with John regarding Armend’s answer.

John went outside to wait while Mark paid the bill. 
Pulling out his cell phone, he pushed the automatic
dial button.

It rang three times before, “Hello?”

“Hey.”  He smiled.  He loved the sound of her voice
when it was still sleepy and groggy.

“Thanks for deserting me.”

“Sorry.  Look, Mark’s here with me.  We’re at the
Potomac Diner.”

“Has he given you an explanation yet?”

“Not one that I like.  Would it be alright to swing by
your place?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.  We should be there in about fifteen minutes.” 
He hung up just as Mark approached him.

“Was that Monica?”

He nodded.  “I told her we’d be right over.”

“Is she nearby?”

“Not far.  In Georgetown.”  John unlocked the doors to
his truck and was about to step in when suddenly his
world faded to black.

Monica took the teapot off the burner and set up three
mugs.  She knew it was going to be a long night. 
Pouring herself a cup, her hand shook uncontrollably
as she lifted the mug to her lips.  The next moment it
crashed to the floor.

She froze.

There was a knock at her door.

“Agent Reyes?”

It was Sergeant Armand’s voice.

“Agent Reyes, are you there?  There’s been an
accident.”

John.

Picking up her gun, she carefully opened the door. 
Her fingers shook and she was barely able to undo the
chain.

In an instant the door flew open, knocking the gun
from her hand.

“You never were too smart,” Mark hissed yet his voice
was different.  

“What did you do to John?”

He shrugged.  “Even the rats deserve something at
Christmas.”  He forced her back into the far corner
and wrapped his hands around her neck.  “I will not
let you get away this time.”

Tears filled her eyes and she managed to push him
away.  “It’s you.”

An evil grin grew on his lips.  “You didn’t really
think a mortal body could keep me, did you?”  He
laughed.  “Thought you would have remembered that too.
 As I recall, that was how I escaped from you in
Dublin.”

She shook her head, still managing to keep out of
reach of him.  “I still don’t understand.  You keep
saying we met in Dublin, but I’ve never been there.”

He stared at her.  There was no need to rush.  John
had been taken care of.  “We have.  Under much the
same circumstances.”

She continued to look at him.

“Eighteen thirty-two.  Small town.  Not too many
people.”  He chuckled.  “None by the time I was
through.”

“I…”

“You were the only one to escape the cleansing and I
barely escaped you.  I never thought you’d come back. 
You’re family was full of witches.  You were the
strongest of all.  I had to eliminate the evil.  But
with your magic you escaped.  I made it my life to
hunt you down.”  He approached her again.  “With you
gone there will be no more evil,” he hissed then
reached for her.

Monica’s thoughts, however, were not on finding out
about re-incarnation or ghosts; her thoughts were on
John.  “Where is he?”

“They’ll find him soon enough.  What’s left of him
anyway.”

Taking a chance, she said, “If you take me to him, you
can do what you want with me.  I just need to see
him.”  Somehow she had managed to keep her voice from
quivering.

Mark thought for a moment then, with a nod, led her
out the door.

In silence, Monica rode in the passenger seat of
John’s truck with Mark being the driver.  He turned
down a dark road near the diner and pulled up in front
of an alley.

Her heart stopped.

The nightmare.

John lying in a pool of blood.

She turned to face the entity beside her.

“He’s somewhere down there.”

Slowly, she opened the door and stepped out only to
have her arm jerked harshly.  

“I told you I’d take you to him.  I said nothing about
letting you go.”

“I said I wanted to see him,” she hissed.

“No.  You will, however, be joining him.”  Pulling out
a long knife, he dragged her down the dark alley.

She had no weapon.  He had already proven himself to
be stronger than her.

Looking down, she gasped.

Beside the dumpster, she saw a shoe. 

And blood.

“John,” she whispered.

Searing pain.

She looked at her arm.  Blood.

Backing away, she frantically glanced around for
anything to use as a weapon.

“You’re not getting away from me this time,” the
killer told her, raising the knife again.  “It ends
now.”

Whether it was a Christmas miracle or just plain luck,
Monica got her chance to escape when Mark was
distracted for a second by a large alley cat that had
jumped out of the dumpster.

She ducked around him and ran back to the deserted
street.  

Mark was catching up fast.

Opening the driver’s side of John’s truck, she reached
beneath it.

An arm snaked around her waist and pulled her away.

She turned.

One shot.

Her hands shook.

Blood pooled at her feet.

His cold eyes stared into her.

“The next life,” he whispered before collapsing on the
ground.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, she felt for a
pulse but found none.

“John!”  Running around the truck, she stopped just
short of the dumpster.  Afraid of what she might find.

Monica jumped upon hearing a pained groan.  Quickly
she whirled around with John’s back-up gun aimed high.
 

No one.

“Mon…”  It was barely above a whisper.

Without further hesitation, Monica ran to the other
side of the dumpster and found John lying on the
ground.  A large gash in his head and an obvious stab
wound near his heart.  “John?  Can you hear me?”

Struggling to open his eyes, he finally looked at her
and tried to smile.  “Been worse.”  He coughed.

“Don’t try to move.  I have to find a phone to call
for help.”

“Mark.  He’s not…”

“He’s dead, John.  It’s finally over.” 

*********************

With the stab wound not being serious, John had been
released from the hospital the following day.  They
filled out what paperwork they needed to for both the
Boston and the D.C. police and were told by their
superior to take a full week off.

Not wanting to face the demons at her own apartment
quite yet, John had suggested Monica stay at his house
in the extra bedroom. 

She agreed quickly, packed a few things, and had been
at his place for two days.

“Some Christmas that was.  Can we never repeat it
please?” she commented, watching the blinking lights
on his tree.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he watched her.  “No
problem.”  

She tilted her head and smiled at him before returning
her attention back to the tree.

“How are the nightmares?”

“Better.”  She shifted uncomfortably.  “I still see
him.  I can still hear him.  But… I guess it takes
time.”  She paused.  “There’s still one thing I don’t
understand.”

“What?”

“The burn marks.  The ones I saw but no one else did.”
 Monica shook her head.  “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know if Mr. Skeptic is the one you should be
asking that one to.  Maybe… maybe it was there to tell
you we were dealing with only one killer.  Maybe… I
don’t know.  I really don’t know, Monica.”

“I guess we never will either.”

He merely nodded, not knowing what to say.  “Oh, hey,
I almost forgot.”  He got up, went over to a nearby
desk, and pulled a wrapped present from one of the
drawers.  Returning to the couch, he handed it to her.
 “It’s a little late, but Merry Christmas, Monica.”

Taking the present from him, she sat back and smiled. 
“Wait here.”  She, too, got up and ran up the stairs,
returning moments later with her gift for him.  “It
wasn’t what I had planned on getting you but after…
well… I’ll explain if I need to.”

He smiled back.  “You want to go first?”

“No, you.”

With care, he unwrapped the gift and stared. 
“Superstars of the Superbowl?  Monica, you really…”

She quickly grabbed it back.  “That wasn’t yours.” 
Running back upstairs, she returned with a similarly
wrapped gift.”  “Sorry, this one is yours,” she
laughed.

“Uh… then who…”  Had she been seeing someone and he
wasn’t aware of it?

“My cousin.  He’s going to Georgetown this year and my
uncle told me he really wanted it.”

“Ah.”  Once again, he unwrapped the gift.  He bit his
lower lip.

Monica’s heart pounded.  “If I’ve overstepped the
line…”

When his eyes met hers, they were filled with tears. 
“No, it’s wonderful.”

“Are you sure?  I just… I don’t know what I was
thinking.

He held up the frame.  “How did you find this?”

“It wasn’t easy.”

Before him, he held a gold-trimmed frame.  In the top
center was a picture of his son, Luke, followed by an
engraved poem describing him perfectly.  “Where is
this poem from?”

Monica hesitated.  “Me,” she whispered.

He turned to her.  “You wrote it?”

She nodded.  “I thought after you and Barbara were
able to let go that day on the beach that maybe you’d
want something…”

Pulling her to him, he whispered.  “Thank you.  It
means so much to me.”

“You’re absolutely sure I didn’t bring back bad
memories?  But when I saw that boy a few days ago… I
just thought maybe…”  Realizing she was babbling, she
stopped talking.  Her eyes searched his for the truth
about his feelings.

“Monica, you were there too.  I know you never really
said anything to me about it, but I could see his
death affected you too.  To tell you the truth, his
ashes were all I had in my house to remind me of him. 
This is something I think I needed.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

He smiled.  “I’m sure.  Stop worrying.  I admit, had
it come from anyone else, no, I probably wouldn’t have
appreciated it.  But coming from you – it means a lot.
 Now, open your present.”

With almost child-like enthusiasm, she ripped off the
paper to reveal an oblong box.  Quizzically she looked
at him then opened the box.   Inside lay a tin
bookmark with Hedwig, the snowy owl from Harry Potter.

“I know how much you love Harry Potter, and it, I
don’t know, it looked like something you might like,”
he said then waited a few seconds before adding,
“However, your real present is underneath the tissue
paper.”  He grinned at her, knowing she hadn’t been
sure what to say.
 
Lifting the paper, she gasped.  Attached to an
envelope was a silver, heart-shaped pendant on a
chain.  “John, where did you find it?”

“You didn’t lose it in the desert.  Turns out it was
just underneath the edge of the rug by your desk. 
However, the chain is new, I couldn’t find that.”

She leaned over and hugged him.  “Thank you so much. 
I thought I had lost this forever.”

“You’d better open the envelope too.”

Letting him go, she carefully opened the envelope and
grinned.  Inside was a note that said:  Good for one
dinner and a restaurant of your choice.  “Are you
insinuating I don’t get out enough?”

He laughed.  “I’m insinuating neither one of us do. 
And I mean it.  You deserve a nice night out. 
Something other than Polish Sausages that is.”

Her eyes sparkled.  “But what if Polish Sausages are
what I really want?”

“You know I’d get them for you anytime.”

Their eyes locked.

They both knew it wasn’t about sausages or dinner.

A yawn from John broke the moment. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “Guess these painkillers
are really working.”

She smiled.  “Why don’t you get some sleep.  That was
doctor’s orders after all.”

He stood up and had just reached the steps when he
turned back.  “Monica?”

She looked over at him.

Holding up the frame, he said, “Thank you.  Thank you
for everything.”  Then he went up the stairs.

Sitting on the couch, she stared at the heart pendent
in her hand.  He had given it to her as a friendship
gift a few months back.  Though she suspected it was
also a thank you for being there for him through
everything with Luke.  When she had lost it, she had
been heart-broken.  But here it was back in her hand. 
Given to her once again by John.  She smiled as she
latched it around her neck.  Life was full of circles
and, though she couldn’t quite figure it out, she was
sure that somehow life had just come full circle for
them.



The End