Pravus Semper Livet By: Bobbi < smberens1013@aol.com > Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, with the exceptions of James Reyes, Derek Rivera, and Niles the cat. Summary: Monica Reyes answers a personal ad, and trouble ensues. Apperances can be deceiving, and even the most unsuspecting exteriors can contain the interiors of evil. Rating: R Category: R, A; story; R/other UST; DRR Archive: Only if I submit it. ~ Part One ~ Tea and a Newspaper Monica Reyes flipped through the newspaper slowly, sipping her peppermint tea as she did so. Peppermint tea was the only kind she drank. Monica was not a coffee person, because she knew what coffee could do to you-- it slowly drained the calcium out of your bones, making them more susceptible to breaks and, later on in life, osteoperosis. The tea looked almost green, and that was the kind Monica liked. She didn't like it weak, she liked it strong. If you were going to do something, you had to do it all the way. Sure, it was a little bitter... but it wasn't anything that she couldn't handle. She didn't even know why she got the newspaper anymore. It was the same thing every day. A report on the evil in the world that she really didn't want to hear about. Killings, kidnappings, robberies, terrorism, rape. A reflection of today's society that spoke for itself. She heard about enough of it and saw enough of it firsthand to really care to read about it. But she did, because she didn't have anything better to do. She didn't have anyone in her life, as much as she might like to. She set the 'metro' section down. She didn't really want to read it. Her gaze fell to the 'accent' section as she took her last drink of peppermint tea. It was all gone. She'd have to go to the organic store down the street soon to get some more, because it was the only place in town that carried the kind she liked. She began aimlessly thumbing through the accent section. What a vacation this was turning out to be. She'd been ordered to take a break from work, because she hadn't taken one in years. And here she was. Bored out of her mind, without a thing to do. She'd rather be at work more than anything else, working with John. But if she went to work now, she knew that she would catch hell from Brad for doing so. Nothing interesting in the accent section. Just like the rest of the paper. Maybe she'd have to cancel her subscription. After all, who wants to read about the evils of the world when you can witness them first hand? Then her gaze fell to the page which contained the personal ads. 'Heart to Heart', the local company who put them out was called. They guranteed a happy, successful date to their customers within two months of the first run of their ad, or else they would return your money, no questions asked. They hyped it all up so much that they even occasionally ran a guest spot on television to promote it, sending their cameramen on dates with their customers and the people who saw the ads and responded. Without knowing why she was doing it, Monica started reading through the 'men seeking women' section of the personals. The first few didn't catch her interest... they just bored her even more than she already was. 'Computer genius seeking computer babe' Gag. Sounded like Frohike. And God knows that her date with Frohike had been a disaster. She had accepted it just to be nice. And it had been the most boring time of her life, and that was putting it gently. She continued reading. One of the ads caught her eye. 'Could it be you? Dark, handsome Latino seeks a soulmate to share eternity with' Eternity was a long time. But a dark, handsome Latino? Who could resist? Not Monica. ~ Part Two ~ Dark, Handsome, and Mysterious Monica Reyes smiled in anticipation as she finished putting her red lipstick on, admiring her reflection in the full length mirror in her room. She really was gorgeous. John Doggett didn't know what he was missing out on. She had responded to the personal ad; against her better judgement. She really didn't know why she had responded to it, it had just been one of those things that you do on a sudden impulse and say 'hell with it, if it's bad, I'll deal with it later'. Besides, she really had nothing better to do. This couldn't be any worse than the last few days had been. Granola bar wrappers and empty bottles of Evian bottled water lay strewn across the floor of her living room. She was usually prim and proper, but not today. She was nervous about her date, although she really didn't have the slightest inclination as to why she was nervous. It might have had something to do with the fact that she hadn't been on a date in years. Come to think about it, that might actually make sense. That must have been the reason. Straightening out her long, sleveless, low-cut black dress, Monica gave herself the seal of approval. She was ready, and Derek should be there any minute. She was excited, more than she had been in years. Almost as excited as... That time her and John had gone out to the opera. But that was a long time ago, and she would most likely never have that chance again. Why couldn't she just forget that, why did she compare everything and everyone to John? It bothered her that she did that. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop. It was almost like a bad habit or an addicition. If it was an addiction, John was the drug. Once she'd had a dose, she had always yearned for more. Whatever had happened between them, she hadn't been sure... but she did know that it had been something, something that she had not been able to forget. Maybe, just maybe, if she got lucky... which she never did.... maybe this Derek Rivera would be able to help her to heal and move on and forget about John. But then the question remained, did she WANT to forget about John? Deep down in her heart, she knew she didn't want to. But she wasn't about to admit that. The only way that she had been able to come up with the courage to respond to the personal ad was by denying herself that, by denying herself her true feelings for John. And she must continue to do so if she didn't want to make a fool of herself that night and act like she was still hanging on to a thread that she had been hanging on to for years now, a thread that had gotten her attached after one incident. Monica remembered it like it was yesterday, though. Her and John had had sex that night, but then they had both convinced each other that it was a mistake, that neither of them knew what the other was doing, that neither of them knew what they themselves were doing. Ha, what an excuse. Both of them had known damn well what they were doing, they just weren't sure where to go with it afterward. Monica was jolted out of her reminisicing by the loud ringing of the phone on her bedside table. She walked over and picked it up. "Monica?" Came John's voice from the other end of the line. John-- what did he want? Why would he be calling when he knew she was on vacation? "Yeah?" She asked. "It's me, John..." he said slowly, trying to detect the strange tone of her voice. "Yeah..." She said distantly. "What do you want, John?" He was surprised at her tone of voice, at the way she seemed almost demanding. She was never this way with him. Maybe he took her for granted sometimes, and it was something he didn't realize until that moment. "Well, I, uh... I know you're on vacation, and I was wondering if you'd well, like to go out to dinner or somethin'..." Monica was, at the least, very surprised by his offer. The smile that had lit up her face just moments earlier as she had eagerly been anticipating Derek's arrival now ceased to exist. There was no denying it, she would much rather be with John. Just then, the doorbell rang. "Hey listen, it'sokay if you've got other plans, I totally understand..." came Doggett's voice. "Um, can I call you right back John?" Monica asked, honestly intending to do so. "Ok, sure," John replied, hanging up the phone and sitting back in his chair, sighing. He had finally gotten up the courage to call her up and ask her, and now she had other plans? Just his luck. Monica placed the phone in its cradle, staring at it for a moment... the sound of an impatient knocking at the door got her attention, and she got up from the bed and walked out to answer the door. Derek Rivera stood there in front of her, clad in black pants, a dark brown silk polo shirt that complimented his hair and skin tone perfectly, sunglasses, and a leather coat. He pulled his sunglasses down, giving Monica an approving glance and handing her a single red rose. "Pleasure to see you like this... Ms. Reyes..." Derek said in a low voice, his eyes taking her in. "It's nice to meet you in person, Mr. Rivera," Monica replied, smiling at him... intoxicated by his deep, intense brown eyes at the moment, stuck in them. His were eyes unlike any other eyes that she had ever seen. Even though John's were way better. Shit, why was she doing this again? Couldn't she ever just forget about comparing everyone to John? "Your mind is preoccupied..." He started, looking deeply into her eyes, an almost eerily analytical glance overtaking his eyes. "Um..." Monica started nervously, wondering how he knew. "Hold on, just a second..." She stepped in the house, leaving the door open, and ran back to her bedroom to get her leather coat and cell phone, turning her cell phone off and unhooking her answering machine, totally forgetting about John for the moment. Derek took a deep breath as she came back out to the door, breathing her in. "Strawberries and champagne," he said, looking at her. "What?" She asked. "That's the fragrance you're wearing, correct me if I'm wrong?" He almost stated more than asked, giving her that analytical glance again. "Uh... yes..." She replied, smiling, trying to hide the fact that he was unnerving her greatly, even though she didn't know why. There was just something about him that didn't seem right... Just then, the phone rang again. "Need to get that?" Derek asked, breaking the silence. "No, it's nothing important..." she said, not even entertaining the possibility that it might be John. "You sure?" Derek asked again. Politeness. A quality that was definitely a plus. But Monica really didn't want to answer the phone. She just wanted to get this evening done and over with, as fast as she could... without letting Derek know how much he was unnerving and disturbing her. "Yeah nothing, let's go.." Monica said, stepping out and closing the door behind her and locking it, turning her gaze back to Derek. He took her hand and led her to the car, looking back at the house and giving it one long, last glance. ~ Part Three ~ An Evening With Evil "Monica Reyes..." Derek drawled, enunciating each syllable of her name with astounding and remarakable perfectness, savoring each part of her name on his tounge as if it were his last words. Monica peered up at Derek Rivera over her menu. Her curiousity was reaching its peak. He had told her little about him, and said she really didn't need to know anything about him, that he wasn't interesting enough to know about. He wanted to know about her, he had said... the beautiful woman who he was, in fact, quite pleased to spend an evening with. The way he said her name, though... it spent chills down her spine for some reason that was not known to her at that moment. She was not too comfortable with this. Whenever she looked at him, she found herself wishing that it was John in his place-- not to mention the guilt that was slightly overcoming her moment by moment for turning her cell phone off and never giving John an answer. Guilt can be such a nasty little creature. We never realize its presence at first because we simply refuse to, possibly even because we just don't want to acknowledge the proposition that we may have done something wrong. We can't keep denying it though, it eventually surfaces itself, sometimes in the least expected way. It can be the smallest incident that reminds us what we have done wrong, but until we admit it to ourselves and acknowledge what we have done wrong and the fact that we need to right that wrong, then that guilt eats away at us and reduces us to a mere shadow of ourselves, causing us to do things that we would never normally consider, act on sudden and irrational impulses, to do things we might later regret. Monica Reyes was reaching that state, but she hadn't quite reached it. "So you work for the FBI," Derek said. "Yeah... how do you know that?" Monica asked distractedly. "Guess you could say I've done my homework," he replied smugly. "I guess so," Monica replied with an uneasy smile, setting her menu down so that her gaze was even with Derek's. They were eye to eye, and everything around them seemed to silence as they stared at each other across the table for that moment. It was then that Monica noticed there was something... well, different about Derek. It was in his eyes. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul, and they really are. Monica's were a deep, hazel, feeling brown... reflecting her ability to be compatible with almost everyone, and her warm personality. Derek's were brown, but a different type of brown. Derek's eyes were feeling, but a different type of feeling. They were feeling, yet they were devoid of feeling. There was an intensity, but more like fire than ice. John's eyes were intense like ice, and Derek's, like fire. At that moment, they reminded Monica of the fires of hell. But that sensation was gone as soon as it flickered before her eyes. When she looked back, the fire did not look as intense and unforgiving as it had a moment ago. She could have just been imagining things. She hoped she was just imagining things. But that's probably all it was... just another man that, her subconscious was thinking, could never measure up to John Doggett. God, why couldn't she stop this? So much for breaking the addiction. "You're still in love with him, are you not?" Derek suddenly asked, breaking the silence. "Excuse me?" Monica asked, her eyes widening as she looked into Derek's. He had no business asking her this. None. And anyway, how could he know? Maybe it was more obvious than she wanted to acknowledge. Or maybe, just maybe, she was right... and there was indeed something terribly wrong with this Derek Rivera... something not normal. "Listen Monica," Derek said, reaching his hand across the table and grabbing hers, stroking it reassuringly. Monica pulled it away. Derek gave a small laugh. "Listen, I'm sorry if you get the impression that I'm being too forward, or getting too personal, but..." Derek lowered his voice and looked into her warm brown eyes. "I like you a lot." "How can you like me when you just met me?" Monica asked. "Do you believe in love at first site, Ms. Reyes?" Derek asked. "No I don't, Mr. Rivera," Monica answered uncomfortably. "Well maybe you should," he replied. "I don't, Mr. Rivera, and don't think you can change that." "Please, call me Derek." "Derek, you can't change that." "It doesn't mean I can't try." "What do you see in me?" She asked, letting her guard down just a bit. "I see a lovely woman on the inside and the out, everything I could ever want. I see a woman who is stuck in the past, stuck on a person who she loved very much at one time, on a person who loved her back at one time. She still loves that person very much, she can't let go of him... but he doesn't love her anymore. He's moved on." The stark, bitter realization hit Monica like a ton of bricks. Derek was so right. Or so she thought at the moment. "Her name's Dana..." Monica started, feeling like she could tell Derek everything. "I know," he said softly. "What? How do you know?" She asked, her eyebrow furrowing in confusion. "There's a lot of things I know that you don't know I know..." Derek said. "How?" "Well sometimes I just feel things..." "You too?!" Monica exclaimed. She was beginning to warm up to this Derek Rivera character a bit, which could be a good or a bad thing. That guilt was still there in the back of her mind, though... Derek and Monica chattered on through dinner about various things, and after they had both finished their dinners, Derek ordered a bottle of expensive champagne. Monica eyes it as the waiter placed it on the table, looking over at Derek skeptically. "Listen, I'm not sure this is such a great idea, this is only the first time I've seen you-" she started. "Ah ah ah, I'm not that type of person Monica, please know that I wouldn't do that to you..." Derek said. "Well... ok, but not too much," she replied. "Ok, great." Derek motioned to the waiter to pour two cups of champagne, and then smiled over at Monica before picking up his glass. "I propose... a toast," he said. "To us." "To us?" Monica echoed timidly, almost stunned. "To us," Derek repeated, holding up his glass. "I'm not so sure I can drink to that..." she replied. "I didn't say 'to us' as lovers, or as friends... I just said 'to us'. No matter what happens between us, I think we should stay in contact, we have a lot in common and could really help each other out..." "Okay, okay," Monica agreed, finally relenting as she held her glass out and clinked it with Derek's, then smiling at him as she brought it back toward her and took a long sip of her drink. Derek Rivera smiled silently to himself. Monica Reyes didn't know that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life, and now there wasn't a thing she could do to fix it. She belonged to him. Not just now, but forever. He hadn't been lying in his personal ad, not at all. When he said 'eternity', that was what he had meant. He took a long sip of his champagne, drinking to them. Forever. ~ Part Four ~ A Little White Lie Monica was back at work. Her vacation was over. When she walked in, she felt Doggett's eyes on her. She could always feel those eyes on her. Those eyes were amazing, penetrating, the most intense eyes she had ever seen... well, the most intense icy eyes. And she preferred the ice over fire, but she hadn't admitted that to herself yet. "You didn't call back last night," was the first thing John said as Monica sat down in a seat, his eyes steady with his. "Well no, I didn't-" Monica started. She hadn't expected this. "Why not?" John asked. For a second, she thought she saw a hint of hurt and dissappointment in his eyes. But then again, she could have just been imagining it for some reason that she herself was not aware of at that moment in time. "I completely forgot," the lie slid out of her mouth so easily, and she wished that she could take it away as soon as she had said it. She had never lied to John, not once. Why should she lie now? Why couldn't she just be truthful with him about how she had actually gone out on a date last night? Because something was holding her back from doing so. She just didn't have a clue about what that something was. She usually felt comfortable about telling John anything, but not this. After all, he hadn't expressed a concern in her personal life in years, so why should he suddenly start to now? It wasn't like he actually cared. "You forgot?" John asked, the dissappointment just barely detectable in his voice. Monica wouldn't have noticed that dissappointment if she didn't know John as well as she did, but she did. For a moment, she pondered over whether to comment on it or not, but decided that it was probably best not to. After all, things had been tense enough between them lately. She wasn't about to contribute to the whole mess. Or maybe... it was because she was feeling guilty about not calling him last night, and then lying about it. "Yeah, I forgot..." Monica finally repeated. "No you didn't," John shot back. The reply did not cease to amaze Reyes. How he had known this was a total mystery to her. She hadn't told him, and she hadn't written it on her office calander or left a message on her answering machine that said where she was going... and she knew that she hadn't mentioned it around the office, and that was the only place that her and John had really talked lately. So how did he know? The answer to this temporarily perplexing question eluded her. "What do you mean, I didn't forget?" She finally asked, taking her gaze away from his. "Look, you don't have to lie about it," John replied, staring at her. "I'm not lying about-" "Yes you are," John interrupted her. "Okay, okay... so I'm not being exactly one hundred percent honest," Monica gave in, meeting John's eyes again. "Derek Rivera," John said, laying down a file on the table with Derek's picture on the front. Monica stared at John strangely. "Look, your personal life is none of my business, at least not anymore-" "It's all of my business when you don't know what you're getting into, and you're just setting yourself up to hurt yourself," John replied. "What... how do you mean, John?" Monica asked, letting her anger fall aside for a moment. "Rivera has been under FBI surveillace for a month now," Doggett exclaimed. "No way!" Reyes exclaimed, honestly having trouble believing it. She had known that there was something strange about Rivera, but had not really wanted to admit it to herself. After all, he was everything that John wasn't, and seemed like he could give her everything that John would not give. "Yes way," Doggett replied, his gaze penetrating Reyes' again. "Why?" Monica asked. "Because he came into the US by unknown means, appears to have citizenship without applying for it, is a multimillionaire who has no record of how he got his money, and the fact that all the women that he has been seen with over the past six months have turned up dead." Monica swallowed, her face turning a lighter shade than normal. "That's not true," she said. "Oh yes it is-- read it and weep," Doggett said, handing her the file and letting her read it for herself. It was indeed true. Everything that John had said was right there in that file. "Ok, so, your point being..." Monica finally said, setting down the file on the desk. "It was my turn to keep watch on him last night, and I saw you two together," John replied. "So?" Monica asked. "Every woman, Monica." "Listen John, that's just a coincidence, it's-" "Listen to yourself, Monica," John snapped, perhaps too harshly. "Can't you see what you're doing?" "I know what I'm doing," she said. "No you don't," he replied. "Listen John, just butt out." "Monica, I'm doing this because I care, I don't want to see you like the rest of these women. To be honest with you, I really couldn't handle that." Monica's eyes softened for a second, as she tried to tell if he was being honest with her or not. He was, and she knew it... but something wouldn't let her let go of Derek at the moment. "John, just stop," she said, getting up out of the chair. "I don't have to listen to this, this is my life-" "Yeah it's your life, and I'm trying to make sure that's what it remains. You won't have a life if you keep hanging around this man. He's bad news Monica, I'm telling you..." "John, I'm a big girl now. I think I can watch out for myself. I think I know who cares and who doesn't." "Are you saying I don't care?" "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that-" "Fine Monica. Don't say I didn't tell you." "Fine, John-- if you're going to have that attitude, so be it." They were acting like petty little children again, but both of them were too immature to admit it. John was just watching out for Monica's best interests, though... and whether she stood for it or not, he wasn't about to abandon her. "I didn't even really have to come in this morning, I just came in to file a report. So while you sit here and spy on me and try to think of more things that I shouldn't do and turn yourself into my father, I'm going home. Have fun, John. I know you will." Monica walked out of the office, almost slamming the door behind her. John watched her walk out, putting his head in his hands, sighing, and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Women. Monica. Why? ~ Part Five ~ What You Don't See Monica turned the key in the door of her house, unlocking it and stepping in. She felt more guilty than she had realized she would; but she didn't want to admit that she had done the wrong thing. It was more of a reflex than anything. Eyes. She felt eyes. Not the icy eyes that she had grown fond of... But the firey eyes that intrigued her, yet eerily perturbed her because she didn't know what to make of them. Derek's eyes. But Derek wasn't there, was he? Nonsense, she was just feeling things. It wasn't like he had a key to her house, and besides, everything looked the way she left it. What would he want with her, anyway? There was nothing in her house to steal, and besides, why would he want to steal anything? He was a frickin' millionaire, for God's sakes. Millionaires didn't steal. At least not any millionaires that she knew. But wait, she didn't know any millionaires. Ah well-- she may have been a little afraid at that moment, sure... but it was an irrational fear. There was no way, just none, that Rivera could have gotten into her house without her knowing. But... her intuition was contradicting what her mind was telling her was irrational. And Monica had learned to go with her intuition over the years, no matter how irrational it seemed at that time. Rivera wasn't neccessairily in her house as a technical person in the physical form, but she definitely felt him there. She set her briefcase down and took her gun out, not exactly sure why she was doing so. She was on edge, that was for sure... but irrationally so? Maybe, maybe not. "Derek...." Monica whispered into the eerie silence of her house, not expecting to get an answer. There was nothing. "Derek!" Monica whispered louder, more demanding. Still no reply. And then the loud 'meow' of her cat, Niles, as it came bounding out of Monica's bedroom, looking quite perturbed, her back arched up perfectly as it always was when she got angry. "Nice kitty.. good kitty..." Monica said, kneeling down next to her cat and stroking back its calico fur, trying to get it to calm down. But the cat just hissed loudly. "What is it, Niles, baby?" Monica asked, starting to pet her cat again. It slowly started back to her bedroom. Keeping her gun drawn, Monica followed. She had to grab the doorknob to steady herself at what she saw. Her whole room looked as if it had been hit by a pretty severe tornado; articles of clothing and jewelry were scattered everywhere, her bedsheets pulled back. On the side table by her bed where she kept the photograph of her and John... the photograph was no longer there. It had been reduced to a pile of ash. "Oh.. my..." Monica whispered, her face turning white. Then her gaze fell to the vanity, and scrawled across the mirror in what looked like blood were the words, almost illegible, 'U R THE DEVIL'S OWN' She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She felt a hand clamped over her mouth and then... nothing, and the most darkest darkness that she had ever known. ~ Part Six ~ Care For Another John wasn't going to let go of this so easily. Although he couldn't admit it to himself so easily, he couldn't afford to lose Monica. She had helped him when he had needed her most, had been the only one who had stood by his side... so he owed it to her to help her now, whether she saw it that way or not. He grabbed his jacket off the back of the seat and threw it on, not knowing exactly where he was going, but knowing that he had to go somewhere. He wasn't going to sit around and watch Monica become this jerk's next victim... he wasn't about to do that. He couldn't do that; wouldn't let himself do that. And if she was pissed off at him for that later, that was her problem. He knew of one person that could help him with this. Not that that person would necessairily help him, but it was worth a shot. He wouldn't even try the phone, because he knew that that person would hang up on him if he called. They didn't exactly get along. John made his way out to the parking garage, practically running. Something was telling him that there was not much time, although he did not have the slightest clue what that something was. He quickly unlocked his car and got in, speeding out of the parking garage and driving to the residence of Monica Reyes' brother, James Reyes. He reached there faster then he ever had before-- less than ten minutes, and he was running on pure adrenalin that whole time. He quickly shut off the car and ran up the driveway, pushing the doorbell, and when there was no answer, furiously knocking the knocker. "I'm coming, I'm coming..." James said, finally reaching the door and opening it, frowning when he saw it was John Doggett. "What do you want?" "It's Monica," John said. "What about her?" James asked, still frowning. "I told you to leave her alone. You've put her through enough, hurt her enough. You agreed to keep your distance." "I never agreed to such a thing," John shot back. "Well I told you to-" "Doesn't matter what you told me to do. You need to listen to what I have to tell you, James," John said, pushing past him and stepping into the house behind him, waiting for him. "You comin' in, or ya gonna make me pull you in?" "I'm coming..." James said grudingly, slamming the door behind him and turning around to face John. "So what brings me the honor of your presence, Mr. Doggett?" He asked in his sarcastic tone that John Doggett had come to despise so much. "It's about your sister, Mr. Reyes," Doggett replied, looking into James' brown eyes. They were eye to eye, James Reyes and John Doggett. This wasn't the first situation like this, as a matter of fact, there had been another one, years ago... and it had not been pretty. So both parties were quietly hoping that it wouldn't get to that again. After all, black eyes are not the most becoming. "When is it not?" James replied. "She's gotten herself into some trouble James, and I need your help-" "Trouble?" James scoffed. "What kind of trouble?" "She's seeing this guy, and-" "This guy?!" James boomed, his eyes flashing with anger. "Oh John Doggett don't even start, I know what this is all about-" "No Mr. Reyes, I don't think you do," John replied, his eyes flashing in return. "Yes I do. It's about your jealousy, and your being unable to let go even when my sister has. It's all about you." "It's not about me. If it was all about me, do you think I'd even be here?" John shot back. "You always have ulterior motives, so it's not even worth a guess..." James replied. "Just listen to me, damn it," John said. James silenced. John held out the file folder to him, the photograph of Derek Rivera on the front of it. "Who's.... this?" James asked, taking the folder and sifting through it. "Name's Derek Rivera. Appears to be of some Spanish or Latino descent, there's no record of how he got here or his past, even though he is apparently here legally. He's a millionaire, but no one's got any clue where the guy gets his money." "So he deals a couple drugs, Mon'll find out that soon and get out of it..." James said slowly. "No, that's not all," John said, taking the folder and flipping it to the next page, then handing it back to James. "All the woman he's been seen with recently have disappeared," James read from the file. "Are you saying this is going to happen to my sister?" "I'm not sayin' anythin' ; I'm sayin' it could, is all I'm sayin'," John replied, his forehead creased with worry. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Would you stop that?!" James snapped. "Stop what?" "Stop pinching your nose like some idiot." "Well.. sorry, it's just a bad habit," John said defensively. "Oh. Yeah. Right," James replied sarcastically. "Are you with me on this or not?" John replied. "I've already talked to her, and she won't listen to me a bit. I've told her she's gotten into something bad here, something that may cost her her life, and she accuses me of getting into her personal space." "With every right," James snarled. "Lemme guess... this means you're not with me." "Well genius, it might mean that..." James said, bringing his fingers up to his nose and pinching it, mocking John. "Fine. I didn't expect you to be. You don't care about your sister, you never have." "That's not true!" James shouted. "If you cared, you'd help me." "No- if I cared, which I do, I'd let her handle this herself. Monica's a big girl, she-" "Listen James, I'm not dropping this. I think I know her better than you do. She talks to me, she trusts me, she's my partner... and regardless of what you want, I'm not dropping this. I care for her." "Care for her, BS," James said. John turned around and started out the door. "Then I guess BS prevails, Mr. Reyes." John slammed the door behind him and drove to Monica's house. ~ Part Seven ~ In the Presence of Evil "Monica? Monica?!" John Doggett exclaimed, pounding on the door when she didn't answer. Something was not right, and he knew it. Even when Monica was pissed off, she always answered the door. She was not, so to speak, one who let the sun set on her anger, and she always gave everyone their second chance. "MONICA?!" John yelled again, louder this time. Still no answer. Something was definitely amiss. It was not only the fact that Monica was not answering the door, but it could almost be felt that there was something in the air. And even John felt it. It made him shiver for a moment. He couldn't take this not knowing anymore. The worry and uncertainty was building up inside him, threatening to explode at any given moment. He couldn't sit around while God knows what could be happening inside. He was wasting time as each second ticked by. John pulled out his gun, swung open the screen door, and hit the door as hard as he could. He got lucky-- the door fell down to the ground with a heavy thud. He'd have to remind her of that later, that she needed to get a new door, that that was dangerous, anyone could break in with how weak that thing was... If there was a later. "MONICA!" John shouted again, his gun still drawn as he stepped into the house, looking all around him. No sign of Monica, and John didn't have the slightest idea where she could be. Unless, of course, she had gone off with Derek Rivera again... which he had warned her not to do, but then again, when did she ever listen to him? Monica was an independent thinker, had a strong mind of her own... which could be a good and a bad thing, depending on the time. He continued walking through the house; no trace. Monica's only half eaten tofu soup on the table. He walked over to it and dipped a finger in it. Cold. She had left, and unexpectedly... and apparently, quite awhile ago. Derek. The word came to John's mind so easily. Who else could it be? Monica was going to be his next, the next... he had to stop it. He couldn't let this happen to the only person he cared for in the world, the only person who really truly understood him. He wouldn't stand for this. Hell, he'd die for her if he had to... but no matter what, he was not going to let her die. John broke himself out of his daze and walked back to Monica's bedroom, where he smelled the unmistakable smell of smoke. There had been some kind of fire here. Her clothes were strewn all over the place, and on her vanity mirror were the words 'U R THE DEVIL'S OWN' John shivered slightly. It wasn't like him, wasn't like him at all to grow scared or weak... but there was just something that he had never felt before here. Something he couldn't begin to explain, no matter how hard he might try. Hell, he was beginning to think like Monica. Doggett walked up to the mirror. The blood now appeared to be dried. He took gloves out of his pocket and a small knife to scrape off blood with, but when he brought it up to it, it started bleeding again. Violently bleeding. Bleeding so much it was like a huge surge of something. John stepped away, his eyes wide. Mirrors didn't just bleed. He heard something crackle, and then turned around. Derek Rivera was standing behind him. "Rivera, you sonofabitch!" Doggett yelled, aiming his gun at him. "Where is she?!" "Not here," Derek explained, flashing John a smile. "I knew that you asshole, but I don't have time for your mind games, and I need to know where she is!" "Why, Mr. Doggett? You seem to think you have me figured out so well..." "Mr. Rivera, I'm going to have to place you under arrest..." John said, taking a step toward him. Rivera's eyes flashed all of a sudden, turning a bright red. More blood poured out of the mirror. John blinked. "Seeing is believing, isn't it, John?" Derek sneered, his eyes still red. "What is this? Who are you?!" John demanded, staring at the blood seeping out of the mirror. "I'm everywhere and everyone, Mr. Doggett. You read about me in the newspaper everyday. You see me in every man, woman, in child. No one is pure these days. You see me in the face of the insane who know no better than to scream their loud cursings out on the streets, and in the sane who do the same things for reasons unknown to man. You see me in these criminals you work so hard to catch, the evil you work to keep off the street..." John stared at Derek Rivera as if the man were insane. "And I... I see me in you." "What do you mean?" John asked. "I see me in you." "Evil you mean?" John asked again, growing a bit curious. "You killed your son..." ~ Part Eight ~ Diabolus "I suggest you tell me where Monica Reyes is and shut the hell up about now," John said coldly, somehow managing to keep his composure. However the hell this Rivera person knew about Luke was beyond him; he'd find out that later though. Luke was the past and could not be saved; Monica was the present and must be saved. "You want to know the truth but now you're afraid to," Derek continued. "Is that so, Mr. Rivera?" Doggett asked coldly, keeping his tone nearly emotionless. "It is so, Mr. Doggett." "How would you know what I want and I don't want?" John snapped. "Oh because I know everything. I'm no stranger to the desires of the human heart, believe it or not. The desires of the flesh, of the soul, of the heart, of the spirit... I know what you want and can never have. I know your fears, what makes you happy, your tears, your shoe size, boxers or briefs...." Derek gave a sly grin. "Everything." "I suggest you stop it now, Mr. Rivera, before you get me even more pissed off than you already have and your brains are all over the nice white carpet here." "Is that a threat, Agent Doggett? Because I believe that threats are against FBI code, you're not supposed to threaten your suspects..." "It's whatever you want it to be, Derek Rivera," John said, spitting his name out. "You can't handle the truth, Mr. Doggett..." Derek started again. "Because you never stopped to think the obvious, did you? Never stopped to think it might be you, never could stop to think it might be you, because you're just little Mr. Perfect- the same Mr. Perfect who had the perfect marriage and then left it for the office slut." "Stop-- stop now," John said. "Make me stop, Agent Doggett," Derek taunted. "You can't deal with the devil, if you are what you say you are and I've gotten my facts straight." "I haven't said what I am," Derek replied. "I've implied at what I am, but I haven't told you what I am." "Then why don't you just tell me, Mr. Rivera?" Doggett snapped. "I have many names, actually..." "Tell me one, then." "I am Diabolus." "Dia-bo-what?" Doggett asked, looking confused. "Why don't you ask Agent Scully? I'm sure she'd know, she knows Latin, took it in medical school so she could keep up with the terms..." "Why don't you just cut the crap and tell me?" "Satan, Lucifer, however you want to say it." "So you're the devil?" "Yes," Derek said, scratching his ear. "At least I think so." As he scratched his ear, two short horns began to protrude from either side. "Nice costume, Mr. Rivera, but it's not gonna get ya off by insanity, you do realize that-" "Get off? Oh, I always get off..." "Not this time," John replied. "This time, just another time to add to my list..." "Where is she, Derek?" John asked. "Doesn't matter where she is." "Yes, it does." "Where she is, you'll never get her back," Derek replied smugly. "Oh? Mind explainin' to me why? You have ten seconds, or I blow your brains out." "I thought we already discussed this." "I thought we did too, but you remain uncooperative, so again, we just go around in this damn circle." Niles the cat came in the room, running up to Derek and jumping on him, causing Derek to fall over from the shock. He really didn't like cats, not at all. "Get off of me!" Derek yelled at the cat, attempting to push it off. Niles meowed loudly and dug his claws into Derek's forehead. Derek finally managed to throw Niles off, but when he did, the mark that Niles had left on Derek's forehead eerily resembeled an 'M'. "Listen Mr. Doggett, it was really nice knowing you, but I've gotta jet, so..." Derek clapped his fingers together once, and the whole room was engulfed by fire... and he was no longer there. ~ Part Nine ~ Dancing With the Devil Monica Reyes had a vague memory of being in her own house, finding something that had shocked her, and then losing consciousness. She didn't remember anymore than that when she woke up and stretched herself across the king size bed, pulling the lacy coverlets up to her face even more. The room she was in was pretty much completely dark, except for the light of a few red candles. She was just coming out of her deep, dark sleep when she felt the brush of hair against her forehead. "John?" She muttered instinctively, hopefully. "Not John..." came the voice beside her. If it wasn't John, who else could be lying beside her in bed? Monica sat up, squinting her eyes, desperately hoping that they would adjust to the darkness soon. Powerful, not gentle in the least bit, hands shoved Monica back down on the bed. Not John's hands. Not familiar hands, not warm, welcome hands.... rough, powerful, greedy hands. "Who are you?" Monica suddenly asked, a trace of panic in her voice that was barely detectable. She knew damn well that losing her cool would get her nowhere, so she was trying her best to retain it. "Doesn't matter who," the voice replied. "Just that we're together..." "Let me up," Monica said, a sense of urgency in her voice. "No," the voice replied simply. "Derek..." she finally said, the puzzle piecing together. "Yeah?" He asked. "Where am I?" "You're with me and all is right-" "Derek, I want to go home," Monica said, attempting to push him away. But his strength was too much for her, and he held her down. "Derek, please..." He was not just leaning over her now, but on top of her. Monica fought back the urge to scream, vomit, or bite this man. She knew how strong he was, and the fact that she was unarmed terrified her. But she wasn't about to give up. Derek Rivera was not going to win... he'd learn not to mess with Monica Reyes. She had too much to live for. She had John Doggett to live for. "I have somewhere I have to be," she started. "I love you..." Derek muttered, starting to run a hand through her hair. Again, Monica had to fight back the urge to retalliate. "And someone else to love, please, Derek, I mean, you've got a great personality, good looks, everything almost every girl would want, but I can't, please..." Derek ignored her, brushing her hair back from her neck and starting to cover her neck in kisses. "Please, I can't do this--" Monica protested. "It's not what you can't do, it's what I can do. You know you can't resist me, you couldn't even if you tried," Derek whispered in her ear, taking the silver ring off of her finger and throwing it down on the floor. Monica swallowed. She knew what was coming, and she should have seen this at first. She was always able to sense evil, so why hadn't she seen this. "Derek..." she said in a warning tone. "Monica..." he whispered in return in her ear. "I can't stay here with you.." She knew that there was no use in trying to talk sense into this man, it was just something that she had gathered... but she was buying time, and there was really no harm in it. She felt his hand find its way to the back of her shirt and pull it off. She kicked him as hard as he could where it counted, and stood up in the darkness, her eyes finally fully adjusted to it. Derek roared loudly in something between pain and exclamation; but the roar almost didn't sound human. Monica ran over to the door and pulled at the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. Derek laughed; his laugh sounding eerily evil. She kept frantically pulling and turning on the doorknob, but it would NOT budge. "Damnit!" Monica exclaimed, not near ready to give up. Derek's eyes suddenly turned a dark red, and the door handle grew startelingly hot, causing Monica to lose her balance and fall backward on the floor. Derek got up from the bed and walked over toward her, standing over her when he reached her. "Thought you could get away, did you?" Monica groaned softly, in pain from the fall. Her kick had angered Derek and temporarily phased him, but clearly, not for long. Now, she really had no idea what to do. Her back hurt like hell as she lay there on the floor, the door wouldn't work, the room was windowless, she was unarmed, and she had no backup. If she was going to find a way out of this one, it was going to have to be by herself. For the first time in her life, Monica Reyes found herself thinking about dying. Death was so... so final, so bleak, so uncertain. Monica had always told herself that she believed that death was just the next stage in the journey, but when faced with it herself now, she really wasn't ready to go onto that next stage of the journey. There was so much left to do, so much left to say. It couldn't end like this. Not now. "Mr. Rivera... tell... tell me what you want and I'll give it to you if you let me go," Monica managed, breathing hard. "You see Miss Reyes, that's just the thing. Because I can tell you what I want and you can give it to me, but then I still can't let you go." "Why is that?" "Because what I want is.. you." Derek then knelt down on the floor and leaned back over Monica, unbuttoning his polo shirt and throwing it aside. Now they were both shirtless. His eyes were still burning that awful, evil red color. Monica just stared into them. "Please don't... don't do this to me..." She saw the red 'M' on his forehead, and carefully traced it with her hand, trying to make her eyes look like they honestly cared. And for a millisecond, they may have. For the briefest part of a second, Monica Reyes found herself caring for Derek Rivera. He was, after all, seductively handsome, irresistable almost. But that didn't accound for the whole attraction. Monica felt sorry for him for just a splitsecond. It was something about him she couldn't explain, but for a second, she longed to... To make everything right, even though she didn't know what she herself meant by that. "Do you want to make love to me...." Derek whispered in Monica's ear. Something in Monica's eyes changed at that moment, but they quickly returned to normal. "No.. no I don't you sick sonofabitch!" She shouted as loudly as she could, slapping Derek Rivera's face with her palm. As soon as she slapped him, she screamed in pain as she quickly pulled away her hand. It burned. He was hot. Very hot. She stared at her hand in the darkness, and suddenly Derek clapped his hands, and a light came on. Monica's hand was on fire. She screamed and blew on it, not knowing what else to do. Derek laughed. When he stopped laughing, the fire stopped. Monica stared at her hand. It was not burnt. The only thing abnormal was that there was a deep imprint that looked as if it had been cut into her hand, of a ram. "What did you do to me?!" Monica screamed into his face. "Hush my darling, don't say a word..." Derek sang into her ear softly. "I said, what did you do to me?!" Monica yelled again, nearly hysterical. "Shhhh now..." Derek said, covering her mouth. Monica bit his hand. Blood started pouring from it. More blood than would have normally emitted from a small wound like that. Monica turned her gaze away, suddenly feeling naseous. As she did, the walls around her turned to blood, and then the bed, and floor. Everything. It was like she was swimming in blood, almost being consumed by it. She opened her mouth to scream, but found that again, she couldn't. ~ Part Ten ~ An Unlikely Alliance For a Common Goal Flames. Licking at everything in the room. An inferno. Consuming him. He didn't know how he could get out, if he could get out. He saw the window, but the flames seemed almost more fierce over there. Just his luck. The heat seemed to be growing, intensifying by the second, if that was at all possible. The flames crackled all around him; it seemed too much like a dream to be real. It looked like one big bonfire. Monica's bed was on fire, her side table was on fire, her closet was on fire... everything was on fire. There was going to be so much damage to this after it was finally put out, that her house might not even be salvagable. The only thing that was not on fire was the vanity mirror that had had the words 'U R THE DEVIL'S OWN' scrawled on it before. The words were no longer there, and the mirror wasn't 'bleeding' as it had been before. John probably shouldn't have been taking detail of little facts like that at the moment, wasting precious little time... but he was. Just then, the sound of the breaking of glass pierced the air. John looked up. James Reyes was standing in front of him, staring at him oddly. "What are you doing, lying on the floor of my sister's bedroom?" He asked suspiciously. "What the hell are YOU doin' here? You better get out, we gotta get out before this whole place goes down..." John said. "What? What are you talking about?" James asked, looking at John Doggett as if he had totally gone off the deep end. John looked up, bringing his face up from the floor. Amazingly enough, the fire had... stopped? Holy shit, what was going ON here? Mirrors didn't bleed, and fires as intense as that sure as hell didn't just put themselves out like that. Speechlessly, John stood up, looking around in disbelief. "What the hell is going on here..." he whispered under his breath. "That's what I'm hoping you're going to be able to tell me," James snapped back. "Rivera was here, he... as irrational as this sounds, as impossible as I know it is, the guy clapped his hands or something and the whole place was on fire," John explained slowly. "Bullshit," James replied. John looked up to the vanity. Again, it said 'U R THE DEVIL'S OWN'. It wasn't obvious that it had bled as it had before, and nothing in the room looked as if it had been burnt. Everything was intact, back to normal. Everything was back in place, except for that writing on the mirror. "What the hell did you do to my sister's mirror?!" James yelled, grabbing John by the collar of his shirt. "And where the hell is she?!" "Listen, I'm here for the same reason you are," John said coldly, wrestling out of James' grasp, his ice blue eyes glaring at him. "I care for her, and I want to find her, but I don't know where she is. He took her." "Rivera?" "Yes, Rivera. She's gonna be just like the rest because she wouldn't listen. Goddamnit, why does she have to be so stubborn?!" "Where would he have taken her?" James asked, scratching his head... finally starting to accept the fact that John might be right and they might just have to work together to find Monica in time if they were going to. John looked back over to the mirror. "I don't know, but he thinks he's the devil or somethin', when he was here earlier, he said he was 'Diabolus', which is the Latin word for Satan, so apparently, this psycho is running around thinking he is Satan and-" "Well, what if he really is Satan?" James asked. "That's not possible," John replied. "And why not?" "Because Satan is a figment of imagination that civilization has created over the years to tell themselves that they have a reason for committing their evils, something to blame them on." "God didn't create humankind like this, to be evil... God is good. There is something that is the root of all evil, and who are we to say that this man is not it?" "It's just... no," John said, shaking his head. "John, I know you've seen the evil in the world in your line of work, in the murders of innocent people you see, people going off the edge and having no explanation why... the death of your son, for God's sake." "Don't bring Luke into this," John said harshly. "I will bring Luke into this if it's the only way to make you see what's going on." "Listen to yourself... you have no idea about the background of this guy, no idea what we're messing with, and you rush in and call him the devil?!" "He said he was Satan..." "People say things they're not all the time. It's part of human nature." "John, what if I told you that I know for a fact that Derek Rivera is Satan?" "Then why wouldn't you stop Monica when I told you to stop her? From seeing him?" "Because maybe I was afraid." "If what you're saying is true, then I'd say you're a coward," John replied simply. James glared at John, for the upteenth time. It was seeming that these two would never get along. "Listen, no matter what it is, we gotta stop him..." John suddenly said, the urgency in his voice increasing. "We're wasting time that we don't have to waste." "We?" James asked, eyeing John warily. "We," John confirmed. "Nuh-uh, no, non-negotiable, just... no. There's no way I'm working with you." "You will if you want to save your sister, James." James was silent for a minute. "Or are you just going to prove my coward assumption..." John taunted. "Oh, shut up already! Ok, what do you want me to do?" ~ Part Eleven ~ Appearances Can Be Deceiving Just when she thought she was dead, Monica Reyes' eyes fluttered open. Hell, what was this? She was in a different room than she had been in before. The room was spacious, large, and lighted by several chandeliers. There were no tables, seats, or anything. It almost looked like a ballroom. Pushing herself up with her arm, Monica stood and looked down at herself, surprised to find that she was now fully clothed in a very long, low-cut, v-necked red dress, which had long ruffled sleeves. "Hello?" She called out, her voice echoing around her. No reply. "Hello?" She called out again. A sharp pain shot through her hand. Crying out in pain, she turned her hand so that she was looking down at her palm. The ram was... glowing, almost. Red. She quickly turned it away from her, not wanting to look at it. One of the doors opened, and Monica was surprised to see Derek Rivera walk through, dressed in formal evening wear, a black suit with a white button down shirt underneath. He was holding a rose, and it looked like the same one that he had given her the first night he had taken her out. His dark hair was slicked back, and his skin seemed to glow under the intensity of the lights. But the fire in his eyes burned even brighter than it had before. Monica shuddered, taking a step away from him as he walked toward her. "Hello, milady..." He said, finally reaching her and taking her hand, bending down and kissing it. The sharp pain from her hand came once again, but this time Monica just winced, vocally supressing the pain that it brought to her. "What do you want with me?" She asked sharply. "I'm here tonight because we have a deal to discuss. A little offer, if you will." "What kind of offer?" Monica asked suspiciously. "An offer that will change the rest of your life, no matter what you choose. You have two choices." "Go ahead and lay it out on the table for me then, why don't you..." Monica retorted dryly. She knew she was still grabbing for time, and, luckily for her, it seemed to be working for her at the moment. One of the problems was, she didn't know what she was grabbing for time FOR. Did he want to kill her, or just have sex with her? If he just wanted to have sex with her, she didn't have to worry all THAT much, she could resist him, that she knew... all those hours of training in the gym were bound to pay off somehow. Now if he wanted to kill her, on the other hand... that could be a problem. But he hadn't exhibited any signs that he did want to kill her, so she really didn't know. For all she knew, maybe he wanted to kill her and screw her, regardless of the order. He was messed up -- really messed up, and that was one thing that she had figured out. "First, a drink..." Derek said, snapping his fingers. A bottle of champagne appeared on a small table for two, two glasses eagerly waiting to be filled. "No," Monica replied. "Oh, going to play difficult, are we?" Derek asked with a laugh. "Okay, we can handle that." "Just go ahead and tell me about this deal so I can get the fuck out of here." "My my, quite a temper..." he chuckled. "DO IT!" Monica screamed. "Alright already... so much for our little party I had planned. I do believe that the guests are already on their way." Derek looked toward the door, and it opened. John Doggett walked through, but he wasn't John Doggett. His eyes were cold, emotionless, empty. It looked like someone had tried to sketch him and had messed up terribly on the eyes. Besides that, everything looked perfect, to the T. "John!" Monica exclaimed, running over to him, her arms outstretched. "I'm so so sorry, I promise I'll never not listen to you again..." John, or at least the thing that looked like John, slapped Monica. She stepped back, looking shocked. "John, what was that-" "I told you he doesn't like you like that anymore, but you just wouldn't listen, would you..." Derek started. "STOP!" Monica yelled in frustration. Derek snapped his hands, and John disappeared right before her eyes. "Where have you taken him!" Monica shrieked. "That's for me to know and you not to know," Derek said quickly. The door opened again, creaking as it did so. Monica watched it carefully, wondering who would be their next 'guest'. Luke Doggett walked through, looking lost. "Luke?!" Monica exclaimed, walking up to the child and kneeling down. He walked up to her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Where's my daddy? They said I'd see my daddy here..." he said. Monica just stared at the child in disbelief for a second. "Luke, sweetie, I'm not sure where your daddy is, but I'm sure we can make arrangements to see him..." she started, her eyes growing slightly watery. For all these years, she had believed that Luke Doggett was dead... and yet here he was, standing there in front of her. Or so she thought. The eyes can be deceiving. "No I want to see him NOW!" Luke demanded. "I'll get him as soon as I can, Luke, I promise... where have you been? We.. we found you and...." "That's quite enough," Derek interrupted, snapping his fingers. Luke disappeared just as John had moments earlier. "You send that boy back here right now!" Monica yelled. Derek chuckled. "I'm afraid it's not so easy, love..." "Don't call me 'love'!" Monica yelled. "Well, back to that deal..." Derek started. "You can have Luke back, he can be with his father again..." "He can?" Monica asked, her eyes widening. "Please oh please... I'd do anything...." She said, thinking about how much the loss of Luke had hurt John so over the years, and how much this would heal him. "On one condition." "Anything," Monica pleaded. Derek's eyes lit up. "You stay with me. Forever." "Forever?!" Monica exclaimed, her face paling. "Forever," Derek repeated. "I... I can't..." "Then NO MORE LUKE!" Derek thundered. "But, I..." "It's really a small thing for such a large thing you know, Ms. Reyes... you getting the better end of the deal. John Doggett will be happy, and you will remain here for eternity, with anything you want..." "But you can't give me the only thing I want," she responded, her eyes and face solemn. "What's that?" "John." "Oh don't be stupid. You'll never have him, anyway," Derek laughed. Monica's eyes grew pained. "If I can't, at least I can try." "Yes, but you're being greedy..." "No I'm not." "Yes you are, think of what you can give him so easily, in giving me your forever..." Derek said, staring into her eyes. Monica stared back into his eyes, almost as if in a trance. "Repeat after me," Derek started. Monica just nodded. "I...." "I," Monica repeated. "Give," Derek continued, still grinning. "Give," Monica replied, that far off look in her eyes. "You," He continued on. "You," Monica repeated. "My forever," he finished, his eyes glowing, greedy, waiting. "I don't give you my fucking forever!" Monica screamed, standing up and kicking him again. "Ow.... Ms. Reyes.." he said, still smiling. "I have to say, I thought you were different, but you're just like the others... down you go." The floor slid open, revealing an incomprehensible depthness, fire. The whole room burned brightly, the reflection of the flames dancing across Monica's face. "Welcome to... hell," Derek said, pushing her over the edge. ~ Part Twelve ~ See No Evil "Oh, my God..." John Doggett exclaimed as Monica Reyes seemed to fall from the middle of nowhere on the floor in front of him and James Reyes, up on the altar. John dropped his rosary and ran up to her. She looked pale, ghostly -- almost like she had been to hell and back. There was a loud hissing sound from her palm, and the smell of smoke. John panicked and grabbed her hand, feeling for a pulse. He detected a quite strong one. He turned over her palm to look at it. Nothing abnormal. "Monica..." he whispered in her ear. "Please wake up..." James ran up beside John, looking at his sister in disbelief. John had called together a special task force to head up the search for Derek Rivera, so he could stay here as long as he needed or wanted to. John had thought the whole thing was irrational BS; coming to a church to find Monica in the first place. But James got those feelings like Monica, and he was just as persistant as she was, and had convinced John that they had to go to the church and pray, that it was the only way to resist evil. John had felt like an idiot walking in there, with the mindset that nothing was going to happen... and then it had. It was like a miracle. She had just... appeared. Maybe sometimes, prayer is the highest power. Monica stirred slightly, started coughing loudly, and then sat up in John's arms, looking around and rubbing her eyes. "Where... where am I?" She asked, staring into John's eyes. "It'sokay Monica, you're safe..." He whispered into her ear, stroking her hair. "Monica, thank God..." James said, watching her... actually smiling at her and John. "Fire.." Monica muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "Are you okay?" John whispered, still cradeling her in his arms. "No, not really... I've been to hell and back," she responded seriously. John forced a laugh, trying to bring some light to the situation, but James' eyes widened. "What happened Monica?" "I don't remember, but..." She turned toward John, staring into his eyes. "Forgive me." "Forgive you? For what?" "Everything..." she murmmered into his ear. "Monica, please... all I want is for you to realize that... that you mean the world to me and it just... hurt me to see you run off with him like that, and hurt me even more when you wouldn't listen to me." "I know," she whispered. Monica turned around her palm. The ram was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, but then started to cry. Going through that much emotional and physical turmoil in the time she had... she just really needed to cry. "It'sokay..." John whispered in her ear again. "No, it's not," she whispered back. "Yes it is, we have you back and that's all that matters." Eyes. Monica felt... eyes. The eyes would never stop watching. They would always be there, no matter what. Sure, she'd never see them, but she'd feel them. When she was an old lady with grandchildren, she'd feel them. They'd still be watching. "John?" Monica asked. "Yes?" He asked, still holding her tightly. "Will you spend the night with me tonight?" There was an awkward pause, and James got up and left the church, genuflecting as he did so. He knew this wasn't his place anymore. "Yes," John replied, his hand firmly placed on Monica's shoulder. The eyes. They were there, watching. Always. No matter what they did, they wouldn't leave. Monica started to cry again, and John brought a hand to her face, brushing away a tear. Pravus semper livet. Evil always lives. But love.... always prevails.