Perfect
By:  Bobbi  < smberens1013@aol.com >
Summary:  Sometimes, I wish I could tell her.  How I felt.  How I still feel.  
Archive:  Yes, just please let me know where.  
Disclaimer:  The characters aren't mine, duh.  That's old news.  
Keywords:  D/A;  Doggett POV;  DRR
Rating:  PG-13 for language



Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, help me.  I'm all alone in this world.  
And a fucked up world it is too.  The world's not the place 
it was made to be.  But then again, who am I to say it was 
made for anything?  My beliefs in any higher being, a God 
that was there to listen to my prayers and answer them, were 
diminished a long time ago.  

If there's a God, why doesn't he hear our prayers?  Why does 
he let little boys like my own die?  It doesn't seem right, 
fair, or just.  And God is supposed to be a symbol, the 
moral embodiment, of those three things.  I tried so hard.  
I tried the hardest I knew how.  I still do try the hardest 
I know how, even though I'm not all that sure of what I'm 
trying for.  

I know I'm not perfect.  I'm far from perfect.  I tried to 
be perfect, but it just didn't work.  I shouldn't have 
fallen for her when I was still married.  Shouldn't have 
fallen for Monica Reyes.  I tried so hard not to.  It just 
didn't work.  I tried to tell myself we were complete 
opposites, that we could never work.  That didn't work.  If 
anything, it just tempted me more.  

I've put up with so much shit in this life.  If there really 
is another afterward, I think I deserve a quiet, peaceful 
one.  

Sometimes I still see him when I dream.  See Luke, that is.  
It's been awhile since I've seen him wandering around the 
neighborhood.  But Lord, he's still here.  Not just in my 
mind, either.  I know this sounds irrational, especially 
coming from me, but there are times I swear I feel him 
watching me.  

But as quick as I turn around, he's gone.  Maybe I'm going 
crazy.  Maybe I'm not.

There's only one thing that keeps me sane in this world, and 
that's her.  

Her, as in Monica Reyes.  

Sometimes I wish I could tell her.  How I felt.  How I still 
feel.  But there's something that won't let me.  If I knew 
what it was, I'd be able to overcome it, and I would tell 
her... I would.  It's not that I don't want to tell her, 
it's that I can't.  

I would have at one time.  I did at one time.  

She's so perfect, and I'm not.  I'd have to be a blind man 
to say I didn't see the way Brad Follmer looks at her, to 
say that there's nothing between them.  Maybe that's one of 
the reasons he despises me as much as he does, because he  
thinks I want what he has.  He's right.  

He has it all.  He has the perfect life with her that I once 
tried to create for myself, despite the fact that I was 
married and had my own son.  

Maybe, just maybe-- I brought my own destruction upon 
myself.  Maybe losing Luke was my punishment for my marital 
infidelity, for my wanting something that I could never 
have, something that was never supposed to be mine.  

It's been awhile since I've seen that child walking through 
the neighborhood.  

And it's been awhile since I've cried, or thought about how 
much I really took for granted, the small time that she 
actually did belong to me.  

I envy him, I'm going to be truthful with you.  I envy him 
for what he has, that I can't have.  I hate him for it.  One 
of the many reasons I hate him.  

He seems to be what I never can.

Perfect. 

She doesn't realize how lucky she is to be what she is.

Perfect.

You don't know how lucky you are to live the life I've never 
lived.

Perfect.