Title: Flesh Belonging
Category: X-Files
Genre: Supernatural/Adventure
Author: Beguile
Author's page: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/188008/
Written: 11/10/2003
Words: 32153
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Doggett and Reyes are pursued by a dangerous spirit prepared to kill them.

Author's Note: Yeah, it's a repost. I took it off to revise it and make it better. After about the fourth chapter it became...well in a mix of ego, pride and some other stuff, the story no longer seemed like it was my characters. Phoebe is emotionless and a Tylenol eater, Brian is a heroin addict and a sociopath, and Joe actually hates his perception. No offence to Chris, but I went the way of the X-Files. Once charismatic and actually worth watching to having guest stars like Burt Reynolds! Grrrr.....

Disclaimer: The characters Doggett, Reyes, and Scully are not mine, but the property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. There was no financial gain in the writing of this story and it is for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: In roughly about Season 9, sometime after Burt Reynolds' uber (such a funny word)-crappy guest appearance, a serial killer commits suicide, but that doesn't stop him from reaping havoc upon the two Agents that had nothing to do with his case. Without a clue as to why he's trying to end their lives, they recruit the aid of three teens who can see the dead to hunt him down and end his reign of terror forever. But things aren't too great with the teens they hire, and with harsh decisions from one's parents, they too have their work cut out for them.

"Wake me up inside, wake me up inside, call my name and save my soul tonight. Bid my blood to run, before I've come undone, save me from the nothing I've become."

~Evanescence, Bring Me To Life

Chapter 1: Second Opinions

He became so accustomed to it he could smell the blood on his hands. The small pieces of flesh from where he had drawn the line over the person's stomach were littered on the tiled floor. He stared at it with a certain fascination, almost as if it consumed him. He had no regrets. He had done the job he was meant to.

He stood up from the stool he was sitting on and looked at the bathtub. The water he had cleaned her with was crimson, her pale and tortured eyes staring out from under it. They pierced his soul, screaming with so much force his head began to ache from looking, and he turned away. Her hair floated endlessly in the water, the blond locks dyed red from the blood, her blood. Her flesh was bathed in it. She appeared alive, yet he knew what he had done. He knew he had killed her.

Turning away he walked from the blood soaked bathroom, his right hand still carrying the kitchen knife he'd done it with. He dropped it, the point striking the hard wood floor and sticking upward. Blood trickled from his fingers, leaving a path from the bathroom to the bedroom. He didn't move, trembling softly as he reached to his back pocket and pulled the gun from it.

He opened the clip. One more bullet, he thought, and grinned softly. Just enough. He stopped in the centre of the room, the woman's eyes still screaming at him from the bathroom. Without another word he rose the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

Phoebe awoke with a start, gasping as she sat up in bed. Her bedroom was freezing, half from her blankets being kicked to the base of the bed and the other half from the window being open. She shivered slightly, her bare legs pale and luminous in the moonlight streaming from the open curtains. Damn, she thought, and went to the window, catching her breath. Her pyjama pants fell down from her thighs and hit the floor, and she slammed the window shut, locking it with the latch. Brushing a hand through her chestnut hair, she walked back to the bed, her bare feet protesting in soft stings to the chill on her floor. She sat on the edge of the bed, collecting her thoughts before she heard a creak behind her door, and light streamed from the crack between it and the floor. A chill spread through the already frigid bedroom, signalling an instinctive alarm. She opened the night table drawer and pulled a video camera into her hand. Checking the tape, she hit the record button and walked to the door, placing her hand on the knob. She was taken aback by the cold. It was like dry ice, and nearly burned her if she hadn't swung the door open quickly. Walking softly, she moved around the corner to the kitchen, looking with the camera first.

Saying nothing, she flipped out the viewing screen. There was nothing of any importance. It was a breeze, she thought, unlike herself. Just a breeze. Joe or Brian might have left the window open. She moved to the window, checking it. It was latched and shut. Okay, she thought.

The bedroom door slammed. Great, Phoebe thought. You forgot to lock the door. Now your rooms crawling with them. You'll be having no sleep for a year. She moved quickly back to her bedroom, trying to open the door. A cold mist moved from the crack at the bottom to her feet. She grabbed the key from around her neck and slid it into the lock before opening the door.

The window slammed, and then silence fell on the house. She sighed deeply, feeling the temperature return to normal. She turned off the camera and went back to bed.


Agent John Doggett hated early morning phone calls, especially one pertaining to the supernatural. So, this morning he became unusually cranky when the perky and annoying voice of Leyla Harrison appeared on the opposite line and wished him a, "VERY GOOD MORNING AGENT DOGGET!" He practically hung up there, but, being courteous, he continued.

"Good morning Agent Harrison," he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Do you have nay idea what time it is?"

"Actually, yes." Agent Harrison looked up at the clock in the airport, seeing the number change from 6:57 to 6:58 am. "It's just about 7:00."

Agent Doggett groaned and sat up, the cold air embracing him and making his shiver softly. He returned to the warmth of his blankets for a second. "Is there any special reason you're calling me this early on a Sunday Agent Harrison?"

"Once again, Agent Doggett, there is. You know my friend in Homicide, Agent Jason Sharp?" John sighed and gave a small, "Hmmm." As a response. She continued giddily. "Well he came across a case he's completely stumped on, and I mentioned a bit about you and your department, and immediately booked two tickets for you and Agent Reyes to get check it out!"

"Can you repeat that?" he asked, a little shocked. Agent Harrison gave a small giggle. "San Francisco?"

"Homicide's been following a case for months about a Serial Killer who has a habit to drown his victim's before removing their inner organs and dumping them over the city. They were all but out of answers until they found the murderer, dead in his apartment. He'd committed suicide just last night." Agent Doggett swung his legs out of bed and stood up on the floor.

"What does this have to do with Agent Reyes and me going to San Francisco?" he asked, still lost in Agent Harrison's never-ending circle of questions. The woman was an X-File in herself, and it was one case that John wanted to leave unsolved.

"Well, I figured you two would want to check it out, so I've got the tickets here and your plane leaves at noon," she said, looking at her watch. "You have plenty of time to get here and get on the flight."

"Agent Harrison, I appreciate your enthusiasm once again. But Agent Reyes and I can't just drop everything and go to California because your friend needs a hand. Besides, we've got Skinner and Kersh breathing down our necks as hard and as close as they could be and..."

"Say no more Agent Doggett. Don't you think I thought of that? I already arranged it with them. They're fine about it. They even said your last case wasn't going anywhere, you know, about the ghost of Elvis haunting his museum?" Agent Doggett groaned, hearing Agent Harrison laugh again. "They want you out there and solving cases. Alright, so maybe they don't approve of your department and would sooner close it down then support you, but they were fine with the situation."

"And why can't you go?" he asked, far less happy then Agent Harrison. She breathed deeply and answered.

"My schedule's booked Agent Doggett. I've got some many bed credit option from Agents, I'm swamped till next Century, but I do wish you and Agent Reyes the best of luck." The phone went click and John Doggett stood in the centre of his room, suddenly loathing early morning phone calls even more.

Brian turned around the living room corner, looking at the floor. Phoebe was asleep in front of the television, under a thin blanket. She was curled in an awkward position, her hand resting limply on the remote as the DVD of Due South played over on the TV. "How many times have I seen you like this?" he asked himself, and flicked off the DVD player. The sun was coming in through the windows now, the clock reading a nice and healthy 9:34 am. He gently removed the remote from under her hand, and set it on top of the TV, before shaking his roommate gently on the shoulder.

"Phoebe?" he asked quietly, in almost a whisper. Her eyelids flickered and she sighed deeply, stretching out her legs painfully. Brian watched her through his contacts, the lenses appearing frightening if you hadn't seen him before. She looked at him and smiled softly, pulling the sheet closer.

"Morning," she said in a dry voice. The two looked at each other for a second before she continued. "Why'd you turn off Due South?"

"Haven't you watched enough of the Mountie?" She glared at him, her green eyes vivid with life. The electric blue ring around her pupil began to flare again. He laughed and helped her up, watching her stagger a little before stretching out her back. "Besides, he'll always be there when you turn it back on."

"Shut up and go make me some breakfast." She demanded playfully. He grinned and bowed to her.

"I apologize your Majesty. Would you like eggs this morning? Or a healthy serving of Kiss my Ass?" She laughed and poked him in the side, getting his skittish reaction and smiling.

"Both please," she said. "And sausages. I wasn't up all night chasing to not have a good breakfast."

"How many?" he asked, walking back into the kitchen, getting a frying pan out of the cupboard.

"13." She replied, slumping on the couch and snatching the TV remote from the table. She listened to Brian retrieve things from the fridge and cupboards more. "I got some good film, although, the damn thing trashed Joe's room."

"He's gonna be pissed when he gets up." Brian retorted. "What was it?"

"Female, teenage, killed herself over a guy." Phoebe reported without remorse. "She didn't like Joe because he was a pretty boy." She turned on the TV and started channel surfing.

"That's the same reason I hate him." Phoebe laughed at that, and he had to smile when she laughed. It was rare when Phoebe was actually happy. But morning rituals with Brian seemed to cheer her up.

"So..." She turned off the TV, unsatisfied with the selection and walked into the kitchen. "You woken up by any strange noises last night?"

"Nope, none whatsoever." He replied, cracking eggs into the frying pan as they started to sizzle. "Although I did hear you come out to the kitchen. What's up with that? I thought we were protected." Phoebe shook her head and shrugged.

"Probably a new one." She replied. "Just some guy who still thinks he's alive."

"You know, if murder wasn't illegal I'd kill her right now." Reyes replied sarcastically, shoving her bags into the rental car. Agent Doggett had to admit that Agent Harrison's case was worth seeing Agent Reyes cynical. Her brown eyes were flustered in rage and her hair was going crazy on top of her head, not brushed and styled properly, she appeared mildly humorous. She had said several little quick things in Spanish, most likely cursing. She took a deep breath and sat in the passenger's seat, breathing deeply.

"You going to be alright Agent Reyes?" he asked politely. She sighed deeply and nodded finally, forgetting all about being angry. "I agree though, I'd kill her too right about now. This is a solved case."

"Actually, Homicide has been having trouble finding motive and several other aspects, so technically this is a partially open case, although I fail to see how opinions on it matter too much." Agent Reyes calmly explained. "Homicide has all the people they need."

"It's just a second opinion Monica. What were you going to do today that was so important you scolded yourself in Spanish over." A blush started to develop on her cheeks and she looked at her lap, then back at Agent Doggett.

"I was looking forward to being Case Free." She replied.

"We work on the X-Files," he said sarcastically. "We are and never will be case free."

"Good point." She replied. Agent Doggett started the car and pushed on the gas pedal.

"So, we have to second opinion this?" Agent Reyes asked as she opened the file and looked at the full colour photos. The shot of the man with the gun in his hand made her wince, the blood splattered across the floor and dripping from the gaping wound.

"Guess so. Name's Harvey Lloyd, resident of San Francisco his whole life. Middle child of four sisters, two older, two younger. And the murdered of 3 innocent women." He looked over at Monica. "I studied the file on the way here while you slept."

"Well, at least one of us did." She replied, looking at the pages of information. "How did he..."

"Choose?" Agent Doggett asked. Reyes nodded. "He picked women that would have been dubbed outstanding. Every feature, every grade, everything was picked like they were dolls or something. Then he'd drug them, drag them to his apartment and cut them all over in a bath tub full of water before drowning them." Reyes found the bathtub pictures next.

"Nice guy." She replied quietly. Doggett sighed.

"Nobody knows why he did it," he said. "What drove him to do it."

"Well, the sister thing is a little weird." Reyes responded. "It was probably brought on by him growing up always between them and never better or worse then any."

"You think he did this because he was becoming better?"

"I think he was doing this maybe to control them instead of them controlling him. It talks about several psychological disorders-including depression-which was brought on by family." Reyes studied through the file more so. Doggett pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

She closed the file and looked at him. "Are we going to the crime scene?" He nodded, watching the road. "The press are probably going insane." He nodded again.

"You guys are insane." Phoebe said as they walked her to the top floor of the apartment building, somehow planning to get onto the crime scene. "They're never going to buy that we're photographers."

"Why not?" Joe asked. He held up their forged ID's and Phoebe groaned, heaving her camera bag up the stairs. She looked at him with a glare. "Besides, you owe me. You messed my room!"

"I told you, I didn't do that. I was chasing and they got a little psycho. And I apologized, made you breakfast, and helped you clean it."

"Yeah, until that guy came back and you were out on the fire escape." Brian jumped in from the back of the slow moving line. Phoebe smiled at him, laughing. Joe grinned and laughed a deep resounding laugh.

"Hey, that was good footage," she said in her defence.

"You know, we really have to get our house blessed again." Joe sat down on the landing, taking a breather from heaving up their cameras 14 floors already.

"The Priest doesn't come to Atheist's house." Phoebe said laughing softly, slumping next to him. "Remember last time? He actually sent the devil into my room."

"That guy wasn't the devil." Brian corrected her. "He was actually a murderer who was shot by some FBI Agent."

"You talked to him?" Phoebe looked surprised. As far as she knew, the subjects only talked to her.

"No. But while he was whipping pillows at you he was shouting something about some Special Agent."

"Hey, those pillows hurt."

"Not as much as you getting thrown into a china cabinet I'll bet." Joe said. Phoebe gave him a sarcastic glare.

"It was four HEAVY books to the head, tossed into a china cabinet and then had a bookcase nearly fall on me, thank you very much. I don't think I'll ever forget the diagnosis. Severe concussion and 29 shards of glass impaling my back while another million or so were embedded in every single cut." She reported, remembering the doctor's voice despite not being able to remember anything else. "They had me on morphine for a freaking month. Saw the best subjects though."

"Maybe we should all become morphine addicts." Brian suggested.

"If my parents had anything to say about it, I would be a morphine addict and living at home, probably married and with four kids," she said cynically. Neither of them made any comments. Both knew Phoebe's parents were a conversation going to only one thing: Phoebe getting into that silent mood she has and smiling like she had been injected with steroids and going to bed, mumbling stuff about how she'd kill them.

"So, shall we continue?" Brian changed the subject quickly. Phoebe nodded and smiled, getting up and following them. They were always in the same line up. Joe went first, being the biggest and the strongest. Then Phoebe, the smallest and youngest; and then Brian, who wasn't muscular or a good chaser, but it was more of protection for Phoebe.

Doggett and Reyes walked through the crowded hallways. Luckily the Press was gone for now, having been thrown out by the gruff voiced and shouting Sheriff in the room. Brushing her dark brown hair to look half presentable, and the two held out their ID for the guard. He nodded them through.

"What the hell are you Feds doing here again?" The Sheriff barked angrily, looking like he was about to explode. He was red in the face, and with the weight he had on, he looked actually quite bad.

"We're Agents Dog...."

"I don't care who the hell you are." Reyes gave a shocked look to Agent Doggett. "I've got two divisions. Why are the Feds still trying to make this national?"

"Actually I..."

"Look, I don't care. I've told you guys everything you need to know. Just take a look around and get off my crime scene." He stalked off, leaving the two Agents speechless. They looked at one another and walked into the Apartment, glancing into the bathroom where three photographers were snapping photos a mile a minute. One of them retreated from there.

"Excuse me," she said, walking into the bedroom, with her camera bag bouncing against her thigh. The two Agents looked into the bedroom and bathroom, unsure of where to go, Every place seemed to be claimed by other Agents of the San Francisco PD.

"Well, looks like we got here right when we were needed." Reyes commented on the situation. "So he shot himself in the bedroom." A nod was all she received. "And the girl was in the bathtub?" A second nod. "And there's nothing else?"

"I think I found something." The girl photographer said loudly, to whoever was listening. Nobody seemed to notice. She groaned and started snapping pictures anyways, and Agent Doggett and Reyes came over, looking over her shoulder. "Could you not do that? Makes me nervous."

"Sorry." Reyes said.

The girl looked, up, brushing brown hair over her shoulder. Her eyes radiated an electric blue in the emerald green irises unlike anything Agent Doggett or Reyes had seen. "It's something carved into the floor. I just thought it might mean something but they can't hire good police work here." She sighed again. 'Sorry, I meant no offence."

"None taken." Agent Doggett said, looking where her gloved fingers were pointing. Engraved in the floor was an odd symbol, carved with some form of expertise. She flashed another picture.

"Well, if you'll excuse me again," she said, getting up. She turned quickly and left to the bathroom again. Agent Doggett and Reyes looked back at her for a second but then at the symbol in the floor.

"What do you think it is?" she asked him. He shook his head.

"Guess someone will have to translate it." He replied. "Nothing I've ever seen before."

There was a flash of the camera. The girl was back for another shot for a moment. The two Agents looked up at her as she took another shot. "Sorry. It means Never End."

"You take Japanese or something?" Agent Doggett asked. She shook her head and looked away from him, her eyes moving over the wall.

"No. I've seen it before." She replied simply. "It's in a book I read. Reincarnation for Atheists. Actually kind of stupid because they got the criteria of reincarnation all wrong."

"You believe in reincarnation?" Monica asked the eccentric girl. She shrugged.

"Not really. I believe are spirits come back, but they're just spirits." Phoebe didn't like the way these Agents were looking at her. She knew her eyes were burning again. Damn my freaking 'gift of sight'! She cursed her parents for not killing her and sparing her the life. "Good day," she said quickly and left the room, going back to the bathroom.

"Have you seen her before?"

"Must be on the San Francisco PD." Doggett replied.

"John she wasn't even taking pictures of the symbol." Monica stated clearly. "When she came back she was aiming for over here, like she was taking pictures of us."

Doggett looked strangely at Monica. They got up and walked to the bathroom, where the two male photographers were taking pictures. The girl had left. They looked to the entrance, where she was stepping over the tape and walking down the hall.

Phoebe walked quickly. Lord, she hated direct conversations. She surrounded herself with Joe and Brian so they could answer the nuisance and bombardments of questions she often received. "Why do your eyes glow blue?" "Why are you taking pictures of nothing?" She only hoped Joe and Brian would stop observing so they could just go. She really didn't like people, especially when she didn't have sunglasses. Her last pair broke in an unfortunate chasing accident. She'd dropped them in a mad dash to grab her camera and then Joe ran over them. They'd cost her 50 bucks and she never replaced them since, figuring no one would care about the weird swirl thing in her eyes. If it never moved, she could say it was contacts. But whenever some subject came into her view it exploded like it was on fire.

"Hey! Phoebe!" Joe ran down the hall after her. Brian trailed behind, heaving all the equipment with him. "Why'd you leave?" Phoebe looked back, seeing the Agents still watching her. She opened the doors to the stairs and walked inside, nearly closing the door on her two friends.

"Those 2 Agents were looking at me weird." She replied, breathing deeply. "I hate confrontation! I panicked!"

"Well, we have to go back. There's definitely something going on." Brian said. "I saw something."

"This kid was following that Agent around," she said, holding up her camera. "I don't know, I got it but he gave me some weird look." Phoebe grabbed her bottle of Tylenol.

"What the hell are you doing?" She downed four dry and shoved the bottle back in her bag.

"I'm making everything okay," she said, and the four started down the stairs.

"We're coming back tonight." Brian announced, and Joe was the only one who nodded. Phoebe popped another pill into her mouth.

"We aren't going to get anything." Reyes commented as she and Agent Doggett walked down the hall. His hair shimmered blond in the harshly lit hallway. She looked at the floor.

"Let's just check into some motel and come back tonight." Agent Doggett said. "If they haven't gutted this place by the time we get back."

"Isn't this called breaking and entering?" Phoebe asked, a little unsure as she, Joe and Brian crossed over the Police tape. Her hair was combed back into a ponytail, and she shone the flashlight over the ground, careful not to step on any evidence.

"Technically, yes." Joe said, looking around with his camcorder. "However, for the case of...us, completely necessary." Brian looked around with his own camera, and Phoebe followed with hers. The three moved slowly.

"I'm in the bathroom." She announced, moving slowly past the two guys ahead of her and stepping into the room.

Doggett took the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. The two Agents looked upward to the apartment on the top floor. They both saw the light beams dancing around the windows. Flashlights were moving round in the apartment.

"Other Agents?" He suggested. Reyes shrugged, and they reached for their own flashlights and fire arms. They walked to the door and stepped inside quietly, careful not to alert the landlady. They moved to the elevator, forgetting about the OUT OF ORDER sign that had fallen off.

"Looks like we're taking the stairs," he said, and the two began the 15 story climb to the top.

"I'm getting nothing." Phoebe said through the house, looking into her camera. The blue circle in her eyes had faded to green, seeing no subjects. Brian looked into the viewing screen on his camera in the living room, while Joe searched through the bedroom.

"There's something here Phoebe." Brian replied.

"Brian, if I can't see something it's not there." She retorted, looking in the bathtub with video camera.

"There's something here." Joe said from the bedroom.

"Damn it guys, there's nothing here." She turned off her camera. The second she did so there was a rush of visions, with the subjects moving through the walls. She grabbed the camera but before she could a boy with blond hair grabbed her wrist and held it tight in his frigid hand.

"Guys?" She shouted. There was no reply. The boy disappeared, as did the rush of subjects. She looked around the bathroom. She turned and looked in the other direction, through the window at her reflection. The blue ring started to flare.

"Federal Agents." A voice said from behind her and a flashlight was on her back. Phoebe sighed and grinned softly. She turned off her camera.

"Joe, Brian. Take off that accent and stop trying to get me back. You guys suck." She turned and face the heavy glare of two flashlights and guns.

"Oh, shit."

Chapter 2: Interrogating Shadows

"Let down your defences, use no common sense. If you look you will see that this world is a beautiful accident, turbulent, succulent, opulent, permanent, no way. I wanna taste it, don't wanna waste it away."

~Avril Lavigne, Anything but Ordinary

"Ow." Phoebe said as she was cuffed, rather harshly by the male Agent from before. Damn you Joe and Brian. Where the hell are you while I'm getting arrested by the FBI?!

"What the hell is a kid like you doing on a crime scene after night?" Agent Doggett asked. The girl only looked about 15 anyways. She groaned.

"Anything I say or do will be used against me in the Court of law." She mimicked, and was pushed out the door by the Male Agent, who hadn't identified himself yet. "So far all you have to use on me is that it hurt when you put on my handcuffs."

"And that you were on a Police Crime Scene without ID or permission." Agent Reyes added in. She received a groan from the girl they were arresting who Doggett was pushing kind of gruffly down the hall. She was yanking on the tightened handcuffs a little more. Doggett shook his head. She glanced over her shoulder, the memorable blue ring still there, burning brightly. Joe and Brian were nowhere to be seen. They were probably hiding those bastards. She looked back to the ground and the boy who was clinging to the male Agent was there, walking next to her. She glared at him, the ring growing ever more evident that her green irises were lost to it.

Doggett slammed the car door on her as Phoebe struggled with the cuffs. He looked at Reyes and stood there, talking for a moment. "She's the photographer from today right?"

"Yep, and according to her wallet her name's Phoebe Nameth, she's 15-almost 16- and she can't drive yet." Reyes said, looking at the wallet with practically nothing inside it. Her Health Card was in the front pocket. Agent Doggett took the wallet from his partner and looked in where the bills were supposed to be. Instead, they were filled with business cards and napkins, covered in addresses and point form names.

"Mental problems?" He suggested, pulling the napkin out of the wallet and looking at it with the flashlight. There was a list there.

"Georgia. Blond hair, blue eyes. 14 tapes, 2 conversations. Father is or was a Marine. Murdered when he was 7."

"John," Monica said, as Agent Doggett read what she had written. "That sounds like..."

She didn't have time to answer. Agent Doggett opened the car door and showed her the napkin. "What is this?" He demanded, getting a slight sneer from the girl in the back. She opened her mouth to say something snotty, but Doggett stopped her. "Off the record. Who were you writing about?"

"A boy." She replied. "Blond hair, blue eyes. Says his father was or is a Marine."

"Who is it?"

"Who wouldn't give me a name!" She shouted back. "All he wants to do is follow me and ride a bike and tell his Dad something that's all!" She leaned back in the seat. Doggett looked at the list again.

"John." Monica interjected.

"You think this is funny?" He demanded her.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked him.

"My son!" He shouted at her. She opened her mouth softly, looking sincerely in his eyes.

"That kid has been bothering me for weeks!" She said to him.

"My son was murdered!"

"I know."

"So how could he have been bothering you?" Doggett demanded. Her mouth shut and she looked ahead, tired of this conversation. John Doggett breathed deeply as she defiantly didn't answer him. "How?"

"I'd like to go to prison, now." She replied, and Doggett didn't say another word. He slammed the door and walked to the driver's seat. Monica finally got the chance to say something.


"What?" he asked. Reyes sighed deeply, seeing him flare with anger. The girl in the back seat watched them, her now blue eyes piercing. The boy sat next to her, watching her with his vivid eyes. She whispered softly to him, receiving a nod.

"Calm down," she said softly. John shook his head, looking into the car. He glanced into the back seat, where Phoebe was seeming like she was having a conversation with herself.

"A minute. That's all." Doggett shoved Phoebe into the seat at the front desk. She moved groaned and shook her hands, as he re-cuffed them to the front of her body.

"Thank you," she said quietly, taking the receiver from the phone and dialling the number. He watched her and she covered the receiver for a second. "Can I make this privately please?" He glared. She sighed and smiled softly. "Guess not." She looked at the desk. Come on Joe, please have your cell phone on.

Joe grabbed his phone and responded, "Phoebe?"
"Hey!" She said. "Where are you guys?"

"Home. Where the hell are you?" Phoebe looked around the Police Department, and before she could think of a suitable lie, she let it out. "I'm in jail. I'm in jail Joe because guess what? You're not allowed on a Crime Scene after dark!"

"Hey, you wanted to come. Oh, here, Brian wants to talk to you." He handed the over to his gothic friend and Phoebe sighed deeply.

"Hey." Brian said. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was arrested by the FBI. I'm at the Police Department. They said my bail was...." Phoebe looked to John, who didn't seem like he wanted to talk, so she looked at the female Agent nearby. "What's my bail?"

"Ummm....Agent Doggett?" she asked. John looked at the girl and then back at his partner. Phoebe groaned and went back to her phone call. "Nobody knows what my bail is. You wonder what they pay these people for. So go into my room and under the floorboards you'll find a cigar box full of all that money my parents mailed me. No, I didn't lie to you or hide it, I was saving it for a rainy day. Well excuse me but it's not like you need money! Neither of you leave the house. Who cares how much? No, who cares how much? Well tell Joe it's none of his business."

"It's none of your business." Brian told Joe, covering the phone. Joe went into Phoebe's room and pulled up her floorboard. After digging through her secret possessions he found the cigar box and opened it.

"4000 dollars!" He shouted, and Phoebe heard him over the phone. She heard him run back in and a small fight between the two as they fought. "You saved up 4000 dollars for a rainy day?!"

"Yes," she said, and then Joe started yelling so loud Agent Doggett could hear. "My parents sent it! Well what do you expect me to do? Send it back?! My parents would kill me. No. Wait Joe what are you doing. Brian what is he doing? Hello?" Joe had dropped his cell phone and grabbed the house phone. The 20 year old was using the house phone and calling Phoebe's parents. "BRIAN TELL HIM TO DROP THE PHONE RIGHT NOW!" Brian and Joe had an altercation so loud the whole Department was looking in Phoebe's direction. She was slamming her head into her head as she helplessly heard Joe dialling her parent's number.

"Shit....bitch....damn....mother....shit." She slammed the phone receiver on the desk and rested her head in her hand. She heard Joe speaking with the receptionist at the Country Club right then. "Brian make him hang up. Please Damn it Brian!" Brian grabbed the phone.

"Look Phoebe, I would. But have ever been punched by Joe right in the jaw? He's just doing what's best for you."

"I'm sick of people telling me what to do!" She slammed the receiver on the phone again and buried her head in her hands for a second. Okay Phoebe, she thought. Just calm down. He's not really on the phone with Georgia and Peter. He's just kidding and making me angry.

"Come on." Doggett commanded. She got up and out of the chair and was pushed into the back.


"What the hell are you doing?" Brian asked as Joe hung up the phone with Phoebe's mother. "You know how much she hates them!"

"Hey. You know what? I'm not letting her handle this. Phoebe is 15 Brian. Or did you not realize that?" He shouted back, the two beating each other down with their stares. Brian's contacts flared, as Joe's brown eyes burned with rage.

"She is as independent and smart." Brian replied. "She's the best of the two of use! Where the hell would we be without her?"

"Look, moving her out of her home was wrong, especially at such a young age!"

"Oh what? Now you're getting all sentimental!" Brian shouted back, storming away. "Have you even met those people!? They are the most insane and controlling people you will ever meet!"

"Of course I've met them Brian! What do you think I wasn't there when we talked to them about taking her with us?"

"Well what are they going to do? Put her on a horse and shove her in a Catholic Uniform? Oh yeah, that'll really help. Especially if they shove her back in an institution!"

"They won't do that!"

"They will!" Brian shouted at him, grabbing his trench coat off the chair.

"Where the hell are you going?" Joe demanded as the 17 year old walked Phoebe's room, grabbing the cigar box and going back to the door.

"I'm going to get her the hell out of prison. Like a real friend. Not throw her back in another one." Brian stormed out of the house, leaving Joe alone at the phone.


"Look what I pulled up on our friend in jail." Monica was sitting in front of a computer screen, pointing at several details for her partner. Doggett stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. The documents she was looking at were medical records. "She's had more injuries in the past 6 months then I've ever seen. Concussion, broken ankle, thrown into a china cabinet."

"She some sort of Wonder Woman?" he asked, sipping his coffee. Reyes shrugged her shoulders.

"Her parents hospitalized her in a Mental Institution when she was 5 due to severe night terrors and paranoia schizophrenia." Monica added, looking at the page. "And she was taken out after a month and placed on several anti-psychotics."

"Since then she's been...?" Agent Doggett asked, drinking his coffee again. Monica looked at the address.

"She was placed with her parents up until she was 15, and then she moved out to live in her own apartment in the San Francisco area. No other records besides injuries were reported and she hasn't been on medication."

"Think she could have just lost it?" he asked.

"I don't think so. She's been off meds for a decade now. If she was going to lose it, she would have lost it a long time ago," Monica said, flipping through the pages of the Medical File on the computer. "She's also had treatment for a brain tumour." Her eye brows shifted in confusion. "That she stopped treatment for by choice."

"Brain tumour?" he asked in surprise. Monica nodded, looking at the Cat-Scan photos. He looked at it. Not being a Doctor, the tumour looked pretty bad, being the size of a chicken egg on screen. "I'm no Doctor but shouldn't she be dead by now?" Monica shrugged again.

"Actually, the tumour would have killed her before it got to be that size, if she was 5 when she had it." The two Agents looked to the door, where the red haired Agent Scully was standing. "Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes. Which one of you arranged for the pleasant phone call I received from Leyla Harrison?" The two Agent stifled a laugh as Agent Scully walked into the room. "Who's this?"

"Phoebe Nameth." Reyes said. "The girl we arrested for treading on our crime scene with a video camera."

"And she had this when she was three."

"Yes, as far as the records go." Reyes said. Scully leaned into the screen and got a good look, her doctor's mind making her stare in disbelief.

"This girl shouldn't be alive," she said, her mouth opening softly. "I mean, not even an act of God could have saved her in this stage of a tumour."

"Well, she looked pretty alive to me." Agent Doggett added. Reyes clicked back to the main screen, where the photos of the three year old girl were still looking out through the screen. Scully got closer, looking at the eyes especially.

"She looks to have some sort of discolouration of the eyes," Scully said, staring. "The report say she has green eyes, but this picture is showing blue."

"I don't even want to get into that." Doggett said, his anger from before at Phoebe's description of his son coming back. He walked out of the room. Scully looked at Reyes.

"What's that all about?" she asked.

"The girl had a description of Doggett's son in her wallet." She replied, receiving a nod from Scully. "She also said some absurd things about the boy bothering her."

"Old friend?" Scully asked.

"I doubt it. Doggett didn't seem to recognize her. And she was in San Francisco her whole life." Scully nodded again, Reyes closing the screen.

"She's here now?" Reyes nodded. "Could I talk to her?" Reyes nodded again.

"I suppose." Scully and Reyes got up and walked out of the room.

Phoebe pounded her head against the wall behind her, looking around the practically empty cell. Two prostitutes were in the corner, but they weren't bothering her. Another girl was in the corner, shaking softly. Phoebe had already recognized her to be suffering from a reprieve from cocaine. She closed her eyes, leaning back on the wall again, and glanced at her watch. It was after midnight.

"Phoebe Nameth?" Her head perked up at the sound of her name. The guard looked at her, obviously startled by her eyes and the soft glow. "Some Agents want to talk to you." Just great, she thought, standing up. No one looked at her as she walked to the guard, who followed behind her as she was lead to the only interrogation room in the building. The door was opened for her by a second guard, this one a woman with brown hair, and Phoebe entered the harshly lit room without complaint.

Immediately the boy looked up at her from his place at his father's side. She looked to the three Agents, Doggett and Reyes she knew, but the third, a red haired woman whom she hadn't seen before. Sighing, she supposed they wanted her to sit down at the opposite end of the room. She obeyed without a word.

"Phoebe Nameth?" Reyes asked her. She nodded softly. Scully took it from there, looking at the girl. She looked so young, pale skin with her eyes glowing with blue flame. Heavy brown hair hung messily from the ponytail she had pulled it into. The red haired Agent looked to be staring into her soul.

"What were you doing back on the Crime Scene?" Doggett questioned her. She looked at the table, folding her hands.

"I was getting some better footage."

"With who?"

"No one."

"You spoke to someone." Reyes added. "You mistook us for those people."

"I talk to myself in the dark. One of the many side affects of paranoia. As you no doubt already know." Phoebe was unnaturally calm, considering her mind was racing with thoughts of her parents bursting in with their million dollar lawyer and Court Order to make the Agents lose their jobs.

"You were also diagnosed with a brain tumour." Scully finally said. "Which was never treated but even when you were three years old, didn't kill you."

"I have strong faith."

"Strong faith wouldn't have saved you." Scully replied. She looked at the girl's throat, where a single key hung from a silver chain. "What is your faith, if I may ask?"

"I'm an Atheist," she said, her eyes flaring again. She looked at the boy and smiled softly, trying to reassure him. Doggett saw the gesture.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked. "In the car?"

"Myself." She replied. "I have a tendency to do that when I'm alone. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

"You were looking at someone," he said, crossing his arms. "Who were you looking at?"

"It's called faking." She answered him curtly. "I fake that there's someone with me so I don't feel so alone."

"You do this often?"

"I seem to be alone a lot nowadays," she said, leaning back in the chair. "Look if I'm not required to talk to you I'd just like to go back to my cell."

"Not just yet." Agent Reyes said. "You had a description of a boy in your wallet. Who was the boy?"

"A figment of my imagination. It's a coincidence that it happened to be the man's son."

"You make up murdered children?" Reyes asked with a look of seriousness in her eyes. You won't get away with this Phoebe, she thought to herself. She sighed and looked at the table, not responding.

"I don't have to talk to you without a lawyer do I?" she asked. She received a, "No." From the red haired Agent. "Then this interrogation is over." Phoebe closed her eyes softly and felt a tug on her sleeve. She opened them and the blue eyed boy faced her, his blond hair shimmering in the harsh light. She looked at Doggett. He stared at her movements strangely, and it appeared as if her eyes had become more blue, if it was possible.

"Who are you looking at now?" he asked, and Phoebe looked at him, the blue fading to normal. She opened her mouth, but never got a response when the door burst open.

"I'm sorry Agents." The guard said and three people burst into the room. Doggett saw Phoebe slam her head into the table repeatedly as she saw the faces of the man and woman. The man, tall and blond looked at his daughter while the woman, dark hair and tall hugged herself softly, while the man in the business suit looked at the Agents.

"Don't say anything else Miss Nameth. You three have no right to continue this interrogation with my Client."

"PHOEBE SWEETIE!" Her mother ran to her daughter and lifted her out of the chair. "Why didn't you call us if you needed help?"

"Mom..." She said. But never got to say anything.

"You're coming home and living with us. No more FBI meddling with our affairs." He looked sternly at Doggett, Reyes and Scully, and escorted his wife and daughter out of the room. Phoebe stayed for a moment, looking from the lawyer to the Agents. She looked at the lawyer.

"Off the record," she said. "The boy tells you to 'Come See." She walked out of the room and to the front desk. Doggett followed on her tail.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going!" The lawyer shouted at him, following his client and the Agent to the Department office. Brian walked into the office at the moment Phoebe's parents stormed out, and Phoebe was dragged with them.

"Phoebe!" He shouted after her.

"Ask Joe," she said angrily, and went with her parents. Brian watched from the glass in the doorway as his best friend was shoved into the family limousine and was driven off into the night.

"Hold it right there." The lawyer said, standing between Agent Doggett and the door. He looked at the Limo drive away, and then to the man with the cigar box. The two shared a look, before Agent Doggett stomped back to his partners.

"I'll be waving my hand, watching you drown, watching you scream, quiet or loud. Maybe you should sleep. Maybe you just need a friend, as clumsy as you've been. You will be safe in here."

~Our Lady Peace, Clumsy

Chapter 3: The Makings of a Valuable Partnership

John looked at Monica, who looked back at John. They'd been listening to the Nameth family lawyer babble on and on about the numerous amount of charges he was placing against the FBI. The lawyer had introduced himself only as Cochraine, but the Agents didn't need to know anything else. What Phoebe had failed to mantion in interrogation was that her parents were practical millionaires and they were sueing the FBI for something that neither of the Agents understood. Kersh was demanding they return to Washington, probably and most likely to be fired.

"Furthermore, Miss Nameth is and upstanding citizen with no criminal record and does not belong in a prison such as this. Have you understood everything I have told you?" He stood up straight, his hands folded behind his back. He litterally looked like a Politician. Agent Doggett nodded for the sake of him to shut up. The lawyer nodded and picked up his briefcase. "You'll be hearing from me," he said, and left the room. Agent Reyes dropped her head into her arms.

"You know she could have mentioned her parents had legal rights to sue the FBI," she said tiredly to Agent Doggett. He gave a weak laugh.

"That's the last time I arrest someone," he said, still laughing. "You can put the cuffs on her. I'd rather miss another freaking meeting like that." Agent Reyes smiled.

"That doesn't answer the question of why she moved out." Reyes said. "I mean, with all that protection she could murder someone and we'd have nothing on her." Doggett shrugged thoughtfully and looked back at his partner.

"True. But maybe that degree of protection is exactly why she up and left." Monica sighed again.

"So who are we investigating Agent Doggett? A man who kills women? Or a women who treaded on the crime scene?" Monica asked him. Doggett's eye brows lifted slightly.

"I think she knows more then what she's telling us. So I think we are just as much investigating her as we are everything else." He and his partner stood, but didn't get to leave the room, when the red faced Sheriff came back in, this time fuming.

"You two want to tell me what the hall happened here tonight?" He asked with his arms crossed. "Because I've got non-stop calls from the Nameths' saying you're arresting their daughter for things she didn't do."

"We caught her on the crime scene without any kind of permission, filming footage that wasn't hers." Agent Doggett stared him in the eyes as he said this.

"Have you two any idea the political power of the Nameth's? They are the highest ranking people in this city! They can crush people and whole businesses within 24 hours! I don't need you and your accusations disrupting this case any further." He started walking out of the room, and gave neither Agent time to answer. "Go back to Washington. We don't need you here anyways."

Brian walked to the front desk of the Police Department, getting weird looks from the Officers. The woman behind the desk, a tanned woman with black hair turned, her brown eyes tracing him over. The gothic look caught her surprise. "Yes?" she asked, and Brian smiled.

"I'm Brian Nameth, Phoebe Nameth's brother. I came by to pick up her things," he said, holding out the fake ID he had made. Best 20 bucks he ever parted with to have his last name being Nameth. The woman didn't look too convinced.

"You're the son of Peter and Georgia Nameth?" she asked, a little shocked. He smiled and cocked his head a little.

"What can I say? They don't talk about me much," he said with a smiled. The woman nodded, looking at his ID. His name said Nameth.

"Okay." She turned and looked through the items confiscated that evening. She found the one with the camera and Phoebe's other items, placing it on the desk. "I just need you to Okay them for me and you can go."

"No problem," he said politely, smiling again as the woman drew the items out on the desk. Phoebe came preapred.

"One Sony Digital Camcorder." He nodded and took Phoebe's all too familiar camera, holding it carefully in his hands. She continued. "1 wallet containing 40 cents and several napkins and business cards with information." He nodded, knowing the scent and feel of Phoebe's wallet. "One empty bottle of Tylenol. One full bottle of Tylenol." The box was now empty. Joe's eyebrows furrowed and the woman looked confused. "Anything I forgot?"

"A silver charm bracelet," he said. "Thick links with 16 Japanese charms on it." The woman looked in the box and turned to the other boxes, looking through them before back at Brian.

"I'm sorry that doesn't seem to be here. Are you sure your sister wasn't wearing it?"

"She never wears it. She carries it in her pocket," he said, knowing Phoebe like she actually was his sister. She always carried the bracelet in her pocket, calling it her, "Mayoke," or her, 'charm against evil." "I know she does. And it has a lot of sentimental value."

"Well I can check with the Agents who made the arrest," she said. "But as far as I know, this was all that was handed to me on the way in." Brian nodded.

"Thanks," he said. The Agent picked up the phone and was about to punch through to the back interrogation room, when the doors opened and the Agents walked out.

"Agents." The woman behind the desk said, and Agent Doggett and Reyes turned. "This is Phoebe Nameth brother. He's here to collect her things and complained about a charm bracelet that wasn't here."

"I don't remember removing a charm bracelet." Reyes said. "Was she wearing it?"

"Phoebe never wears it." Brian said, looking over the Agents. "She always has it in her right pants pocket."

"We didn't take anything else then what was there. And if she was wearing it, we would have seen it or felt it when we searched her." Brian looked at the ground. Phoebe always had it with her. Always. Even if there was nothing. Could someone have taken it? She never gave it away, even to her subjects.

"You're her brother?" The male Agent asked him. Brian nodded.

"Yeah. The resemblance isn't much and my parents are kind of ashamed of me but it's still there." The male Agent wasn't buying it, he thought. "Well, um, thanks for your time. I'll check and see if she has it. And I'll try to not let my parents find out. Bye." Brian left, shoving everything into the huge pockets of his trenchcoat. Agent Reyes looked after him as he went out the door, so did Agent Doggett.

"He's not her brother is he?" Doggett shook his head no. The two FBI Agents walked after him. Brian turned left, another thing they noticed. The Limo had in fact, driven off to the right. Doggett looked after him and shouted. "Hey!"

Brian turned, the two Agents looking at him. Damn, he thought, his cover blown, he took off running.

"Great." Agent Doggett said, and took off after him. Monica waited on the steps, watching in shock as he partner took off after the teenager. She groaned and leaned against the stone rail. Doggett had the car keys. She buried her head in her hands for a moment, when a second man walked up to the building and looked at her specifically. He was tanned and better built then the Goth, and finally opened his mouth.

"I'm looking for Phoebe Nameth." Joe said to the female Agent. "I'm her brother." Reyes groaned and dropped her head into her hand.

Brian dashed into the alley by their house, moving faster then was expected in his choice of clothing. Great, he thought. How did he know? It was fool proof! I mean, granted I don't look like the type to be the son of a millionaire, but hey! I could have been!

Agent Doggett followed him down the alley, the silhouette still ahead of him. Brian jumped up, grabbing the fire escape ladder and scaled it easily. Doggett grabbed his trench coat and yanked it, sending Brian flat on his back to the ground. He had a gun to his head before he could say anything else.

"Who are you?" Doggett asked him. Brian winced a little, his back aching and Doggett shook the gun. "Who?!"

"Brian Laurence," he said, groaning. "I'm a friend of Phoebe's okay? I came to get her stuff! I had to lie to get it."

"You were on the crime scene weren't you?" Doggett demanded.

"Yeah. So was my rommate Joe Hardy." He groaned again and Doggett lowered the gun, allowing him to stand. "Phoebe lives with us. I just came to get the camera."

"Why'd you break into the Crime Scene?" Doggett asked, his gun still on the boy. Brian sighed and breathed heavily.

"We wanted footage."

"Of what?" Brian didn't have an answer. Doggett shook his head. "What was she video taping?"

"Ghosts." Brian said loudly. "We were video taping ghosts okay?" Doggett watched his face. Brian shook his head as well. He held up the camera. "This tape is all I wanted okay? That and her charm bracelet."

"Agent Doggett." Agent Reyes and the second man stood and walked into the alley. Brian groaned as he and Joe looked at one another. "This is Phoebe's other brother Joe."

"Joe Hardy?" Doggett asked, getting a shocked look from the man. "And Brian Laurence. The two missing pieces to an already annoying puzzle." Reyes looked to the Goth, who had his hands in his pockets.

"You two were on the crime scene?" she asked. They both hesitated, and then nodded together, almost ashamed. "And you were who she was speaking to on the phone?" Another nod from the two men. Doggett looked from face to face.

"What's the deal with her parents?" he asked, curiously, remembering the distress Phoebe had displayed while speaking to them. Joe looked at the ground now, appearing ashamed. Brian spoke for him.

"Phoebe has hated her parents since she was born practically. They were afraid of her because when your rich and your daughter is different, you can't keep her different. You have to make her the same." Brian knew he had confused them, but he couldn't reveal Phoebe's secret. The secret she would most likely take to her grave. "It doesn't matter how many doctors you sent her to, Phoebe was different. No way around it."

"How was Phoebe different?" Reyes asked calmly. Joe shook his head at Brian, who also shook his head.

"She's the only one at liberty to tell you that." Brian said. And they stood there in silence, and John looked at Monica.

"Looks like we're paying a visit to the Nameths tomorrow," he said. Reyes nodded, and Joe and Brian looked between the two.

Phoebe downed four Tylenol that morning dry and without hesitation. Damn you Joe, she thought. Damn you for letting them know I was in trouble and giving them, without thinking, permission to re-enter and destroy my already dying life. Thank you for being such a good friend. She looked at the ceiling in her big room. Her parents lived on Country Club they owned. Granted there were plenty of excuses lying on the property to avoid them now, but she was still angry at them. Too angry. They had disposed of her clothes and ordered her plenty of new things, from Gucci shoes to Armani gowns. They were buying her off again. Just as they had when she was their daughter, and as they tried to do for the past 6 months.

She was wearing something as dark and as Gothic as she could find. A pair of black lowriser jeans she had objected to before now slimmed out her somewhat big thighs and butt, with a chunky silver belt around the waist. Her top was black, covered with a trenchcoat that was inspired by the middle ages. It had puffed shoulders, but Phoebe loved it because her parents hated it.

Deciding that lazing around her room was not going to help she left, playing unconsciously with the key around her throat. She wanted to be in her old room, in her bed with her old and somewhat vintage clothing. She didn't want these rich, pretty things. She wanted her camera and a flashlight and go chasing with Joe and Brian.

Avoiding her parents in their Private study, she slipped down the grand staircase and through the front doors, walking to the stables. Horseback riding was the only activity she loved to do. The trails were long and winding, giving her plenty of reasons to leave in the morning and not return till the afternoon. Phoebe moved through the doors and looked around for one of the stable worker usually marching around.

A familiar name caught her eye. She turned and saw him, still alive and kept, he own stallion with his brass nameplate Tempest. Phoebe's lips curled into a smile as her black beast recognized her, naying softly in recognition. Her lips parted at the sight of the stable and she extended her hand, touching his head softly. Immediately Tempest calmed, looking at the blue circles in her eyes, recognizing her as the girl who used to ride him.

"Hey," she said softly, petting his mane. She didn't notice the stable worker come in and set the bucket of feed and pitchfork down. He put his hands in his pockets, looking at the crazy girl petting the horse.

"Can I help you?" he asked, and Phoebe turned, looking at him. She knew him.

"Josh?" she asked in surprise. He eyed her strangely. "Oh my God! It's Phoebe. You know? Phoebe Nameth?" He suddenly recognized her, looking in shock at her. She giggled.

"My God Phoebe!" He said in surprise. She laughed again. "Where have you been? How have you been? It's great to see you!" She laughed and smiled softly this time.

"Good to see you too. I've been living with some friends. You know, getting away. But I'm back and I wanted to take him for a ride?" Josh nodded.

"Sure. He's probably happy to see you. Hasn't let a single person ride him since you left. Look at him! He's the quietest he's been in 6 months." He grabbed a lead rope and handed it to her. "You remember how to do this?"

"How could I forget?" she asked, and clipped the rope to his harness. Josh opened the stall and she lead him into the hall. Josh tried to give her a hand, but Phoebe was content doing it herself, as she clipped the ropes hanging from the aisle to her horse's harness, keeping him in place.

"So have you been taking care of him?" she asked Josh. He nodded.

"Yeah. Your parents have been a little pissed at him cuz the guests are scared to go near him. He only ever liked you." Josh joked with her by giving her a shifty look as she brushed Tempest down. He shook softly. Phoebe ran her fingers over his back, loving the feeling of him under her hands. "What is it with you and him? Something about you calms him down. It's like you and other people. Something about you calms people down."

Phoebe closed her eyes, laying her head on the rising and falling side of her horse. She grinned her herself and shrugged.

"As I said before, Miss Nameth has been forbidden to see anyone." The butler said primly.

"She'll see us." Brian and Joe said, leading the two Agents into the Club. The butler's lips pursed and he looked at the two. Brian was in black make up and trench coat, his contact lenses a 8 ball and a single black dot. Joe looked more normal, in a turtle neck and brown trench coat.

"Names?" he asked. Brian and Joe looked at one another.

"Brian Laurence and Joe Hardy." Joe said, looking at the butler. The butler, tall and thin with a small mustache over his lip looked at the list given to him by the girl's parents. He finally nodded, not seeing their names.

"Miss Nameth is in the stables," he said finally. "And if I hear of anything, I will report you all." The four nodded and walked out the front doors.

"And she wants to get away from this place." Reyes said in disbelief. Joe looked back at them and Brian shook his head.

"This place is only cool if you like golf and a certain....je ne sais quoi. You have to enjoy being rich, and Phoebe never did." They turned and walked around the main building, the two Agents listening to the information the men were giving them. "We met her when she 14. She went to this really upper class High School."

"And we mean upper class. The freaking Olsen twins couldn't afford a school like that." Joe replied cynically. "We met her in the movie store."

"Movie store?" Agent Doggett asked. The two men nodded. Brian continued.

"She was looking for the movie, what was it Joe? You always had the better memory." Joe thought about it hard as they walked. He remembered the day. He worked in the Blockbuster not far from her school. She rode a bike and came into the store, walked around. He was talking to Brian who had come by to visit him. She looked through the aisles and approached him in her uniform. She asked him for specific movies.

"Star Trek," he said finally. "She was looking for Star Trek."

"That's not true Joe!" Brian interjected again. "She was looking for Star Wars."

"Okay, now that is a lie. She was looking for every Star Trek movie to date, and Brian and I both went looking for them. She kind of followed me. I think she had a crush on me from the first moment she saw me!"

"That's not true!" Brian said, disgusted at the notion. "Phoebe was looking for Star Wars. So she was following Joe, but I found those quicker. So she actually followed me around the movie store!"

"You're lying!" Joe said.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Boys." A shadow loomed over them, a horse and rider watched them on the other side of the fence. Phoebe looked down from Tempest and smiled. "You're both wrong. I went into the movie store and asked the cute guy at the desk for all the episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. He didn't go look for them, and instead commanded that Joe do it. When Joe couldn't find them, Brian lead me right to them by accident. I followed no one and had a crush on no one." She spotted the Agents next to them and gave a small sneer. Doggett squinted as he looked up at her.

"Hello," she said meakly. "Pleasure seeing you again."

"What did you mean by 'Come see'." Agent Doggett asked. Phoebe kicked Tempest's flanks, rearing softly on the horse.

"Joe, Brian. Take Reyes for something to eat. As for you, John Doggett. Grab a horse. We're going for a small trail ride."

"So what were you two doing on the crime scene last night?" Reyes asked the two men as they walked around the back of the house to the direct door to the kitchens. Apparently the Club has exceptional coffee. Brian and Joe shared a look.

"We were acting upon something, a feeling of sorts." Brian said quietly, opening the door for Reyes, who thanked him and walked inside. Joe followed, and then Brian. The kitchen was small, obviously private. It was empty and the only ways in and out were a staircase and the door they had come in. "Welcome to Phoebe's private kitchen." Brian said.

"And she can cook." Joe mentioned, hoisting himself up on the counter. "There's coffee in the pot over there and mugs in that cupboard. Phoebe always has coffee brewing, all different flavours. She likes tea too. Never care for the stuff myself." Reyes looked around the kitchen, the white staircase and oak wood floors.

"The crime scene is...strangely energetic." Joe said, after Brian closed the door. Brian moved to the counter and leaned against it. "We were fanscinated by it because of that reason."

"Energetic? Like physically or..." Brian took a deep breath. Joe answered the question for him.

"It's amazingly kinetic. It has an aura to it like we've never seen." Reyes licked her lips softly.

"Why was it so fascinating?"

"Phoebe never told you why we were there did she?" Joe asked. Reyes shook her head. He looked at Brian. "How much did she tell you?"

"About as much as your telling me," she said. Brian and Joe shared a smiled, and then looked at Reyes.

"There's something about Phoebe, and us, that we've never told anyone." Joe said. "And we hadn't planned to. But it might help you understand a little."

John had only seen people ride horses, never actually ridden one himself. He had to admit, it was alright, but the saddle was uncomfortable and he hated sitting on it. Phoebe seemed to be an expert at it, but she had done this so many time before it astonished him.

"Your son wants to tell you something." They were on the empty trail, and Phoebe broke the silence to say that. "He keeps talking to me about having to show you something. Never understood what."

"Hold on." Agent Doggett stopped her. She looked at him with her green eyes. "Are you saying you've actually spoken to my son?" She nodded, her lips tightening a little as she looked back at the trail. "How?"

"It's confusing." She replied simply. "All I can really tell you is that he's a persistant little guy, and he's afraid of something."

"What could he be afraid of?" he asked. Phoebe shook her head, pulling on the reigns a little with her black leather gloves. Agent Doggett watched her actions as she looked him over. She rose a hand and brushed a chestnut bang from her face.

"It's something on his side of the universe," she said. "Not this one."

"Can you explain to me how you can see my son and I can't?" he asked her, almost pulling his horse to a complete stop. She sighed and looked at the ground, before looking back at him. "Because it's getting obnoxious not knowing what the hell is going on."

"Joe, Brian and I have this different...perception I guess." She began. "Imagine the whole world walking around in bright sunlight carrying around a flashlight. It's kind of like, our flashlights are turned on."

"What does that mean?" he asked, still confused. Phoebe came out with it.

"We can see the dead." She replied.

"The dead?"

"Like spirits," she said. "They appear like apparitions. You know the movie the Frighteners?" Agent Doggett nodded. "It's like that. And instead of running from them we catch them on film."

"So you chase spirits?" he asked. She nodded. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"You and my parents should have a conversation. I think they'd enjoy hearing your insights on my..."She thought about the proper word. "Perception."

"I thought you were going to call it a gift," he said. She shook her head.

"It's neither a gift, or a curse. It's just a way of seeing the world." Phoebe looked upward, her eyes flaring to life suddenly. It was a gut instinct, like everything else she felt, but something wasn't right. She pulled Tempest to a halt, sniffing the air. Doggett pulled his own horse to a stop. Phoebe looked around, the blue ring in her eyes burning and bursting like a firework.

"What is it?" he asked. Phoebe's eyes darted to him, just as a powerful force knocked him straight off the horse. She jumped down.

"Agent Doggett?" she asked him. He got up. Phoebe looked around. She could hear it maliciously laughing somewhere. She reached in her pocket, forgetting she had given her Mayoke to the kid.

"What the hell was that?" he asked. Phoebe's eyes opened wide as the apparition came back for another go.

"Get on the horse and get out of here!" She shouted, mounting up on Tempest. Her eyes burned like they never had before, and Doggett watched her stare off at something that was quickly moving towards them.

Chapter 4: Chasing or Being Chased?


"Let the rain come down, and wake my dreams. Let it wash away my sanity. Cuz I wanna feel the thunder, I wanna scream. Let the rain fall down, I'm coming clean. I'm coming clean."

~Hillary Duff, Come Clean

Phoebe reared on Tempest, tightening her calves on the saddle to hold on. The horse could smell it, the darkening cloud moving towards she and Doggett at amazing speed. The Agent turned. Phoebe jumped off Tempest and landed to the ground, fighting with something only she could see.

"Get out of here now Agent Doggett!" She cried. Doggett couldn't believe this. Go? Or stay? He wasn't sure anymore. Maybe he would take out his gun and use the hallucination for target practise. Phoebe was thrown off and with a hideous crack hit the ground behind her. She looked up with a horrified expression.


It was too late. Whatever she had just been fighting knocked Doggett off the horse with a crack and a bruise started to develop immediately. For a moment everything was bright, and then it was covered in a layer of darkness, blocking out everything.

Phoebe rubbed her head where the bleeding mark was sending warm blood dripping down her pale skin. This is perfect, she thought. Your parents are really gonna buy this. Say bye, bye! Phoebe. You're going back to the institution until you die.

"Agent Doggett?" she asked, wincing as a wave of dizziness came over her and she felt like she was going to puke. The Agent was standing, brushing himself off. "You okay?" she asked.

"I can't see." He admitted. Phoebe groaned.

"Perfect," she said under her breath. "Let's go." Phoebe added bluntly and grabbed Doggett's wrist in her hand, marching quickly. He didn't see her down another four Tylenol.

"Well, far as we can tell Phoebe's had it from birth. The tumour in her head proved it. The specific pressure on her brain in that area caused her eyesight to be affected by both this plain and what is known as the Astral Plain." Joe said flatly. Reyes looked at him seriously, and he gave a small smile. "There's four plains, that we know of. There's this one, the Real World Plain. Just beneath this one is the Astral Plain, spirits I supposed. Then there's the After Life, which is just a level beneath the Astral, and the fourth is Demon."

"Are these four various realities?" Monica asked. Joe nodded.

"I guess that's one way to put it. Phoebe calls it perception but it's not really like we can travel to their world. We can see them moving in our world. So it makes us think that their world might be the exact same as ours." Joe said. Brian nodded, holding a cup of coffee as he looked at the floor. Reyes sighed. This wasn't making any sense at all. A serial killer with some connection to these three who could apparently see the dead.

"It's not so bad. We've known people who get lost in the other worlds every time they see something. Phoebe's done it once." Brian lit a cigarette and sucked it slowly, sedating himself with the powerful rolls of smoke going down his throat.

"You can actually become spirits?" Reyes asked. "How's that possible?"

"Everyone thinks that it's some religious thing." Brian replied sadistically. "But there's no God or Satan involved. It's basically a state of mind. If you get really involved with a vision or are too exhausted to resist it, you could become a member of the spirit world temporarily."

"Do you die?" Reyes was scared to ask.

"If you're weak." Brian replied, smoking his cigarette. Reyes nodded, looking out the window. She gave a searching look as Doggett was practically dragged by Phoebe to the kitchen. She swung open the door.

"Watch your step," she said quietly and made sure he lifted his foot a little more then was necessary. He stumbled inside, looking around falsely to reassure Monica.

"What's wrong with him?" Brian asked, discretely putting out the cigarette in the sink and dropping the smouldered butt into his pocket after the danger had passed. Phoebe sniffed the air.

"He's doing better then you're gonna be after we get home," she said sternly, getting a laugh from Brian and Joe. Sighing, she turned to the incapacitated Agent. "He's blind."

"What?" Reyes asked in surprise. Phoebe sighed again and nodded. "John is that true?"

"Afraid so." He put it flatly. "Not so bad actually. Except when you decide to drag me over a log without telling me."

"I apologized for that." Phoebe snapped back. Reyes tried not to laugh with Doggett hearing, finding it nothing short of adorable Agent John Doggett, an ex-marine and cop with credentials as long as his arm was being dragged by a 15 year old girl. She left out a small giggle.

"I see nothing funny about this situation." He replied to the sound of her giggling. She subdued the sounds of laughing and came back to reality, in which her friend and partner was blinded by something.

"How did it happen?" she asked. Phoebe jumped onto her table and shrugged.

"Something dark." Was all she had to saw, looking at the Agent's blank eyes and seeing the abyss of a black stare.

"I can't find anything wrong with them." Agent Scully said as she put away the penlight. "They're still working, far as I can tell."

"That's a matter of opinion Agent Scully." Doggett said, standing up. Dana Scully had seen some things that baffled her. But nothing as much as her being able to shoot Agent Doggett right now without him seeing with his apparently working eyes. The light caused his pupils to contract. Everything was going as they should with eyes. But for some reason, the Agent was oblivious to everything.

"Do you have any idea how this happened? I mean, a head wound, a....an alien?" Doggett looked sternly at her for that one. Scully gave a gentle grin.

"I was pushed off a horse, but I don't think I was hurt by the wall...too much." He lied. His chest was throbbing from where a black and blue bruise was beginning to grow on his ribs. Scully sensed this and walked over to him, placing a gloved hand on his chest. He backed into the examination table. "Just a scratch." He assured her.

"I hardly think you're in the position to tell me what it is," she said, with an air to her as a mother would speak to a child. She unbuttoned his shirt and looked at the area of skin where the wound was already growing. "That's not a scratch, Agent Doggett, that a massacre." He groaned, pushing by her as he fumbled with his half open shirt.

"Put some ice on it at least, Agent Doggett." John groaned again, blinking his eyes as they started to burn.

"John?" Scully asked. He shook his head and walked out without another word.

Reyes was waiting outside the door for John to get out. He fumbled at the handle, waiting for her to take his hand or something. Monica carefully slid her slender hand in his and gave his palm a reassuring squeeze.

"What did the Doctor say?" Monica could tell John was angry.

"Nothing important," he said. "My eyes should be working but they aren't."

"Well, I got something else that may surprise you." Reyes said, cockily, leading her partner down the hall. She felt like a normal wife bringing her injured husband home in the middle of the day. It never would have occurred to her that nothing was looking out from the blues masses of his eyes. "The body of Harvey Lloyd recently disappeared from the morgue."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Not at all. The Doctors are all pouring through security tapes. Ne'er as they can tell, the body walked out." Nothing happened. Usually when something weird happened, Doggett would at least look at her. She realized given the circumstances this was possibly, even if he looked in her general direction. "What is it?" she asked finally, not liking the silence.

"Somehow, right now, that's not surprising." Monica gave a weak grin and the two walked into the parking lot to the car.

It was raining as Phoebe sat out on the fire escape back at her apartment. She had convinced her parents to let her go 'shopping with friends from school'. Roughly translated, she was going home for some pizza with Brian and Joe. They were out renting movies, while their youngest counterpart was on the metal stairs looking through the rain at the city.

Sighing deeply she got back up and walked through the window back inside her apartment. A stirring of breath caught her eye, and a frigid wind seemed to move through the kitchen. Phoebe looked around, walking to the table in the centre.

A glass fell off the top shelf of their door-less cabinet. Phoebe watched it, the pieces moving on the floor in the shape of the symbol, "never ending."

She turned fearlessly around. The demonic form was there, and he was staring back at her.

Doggett felt his eyes burn again. Monica looked over from the driver's seat as he rubbed them with a small moan. He moved his fingers away, as his cheeks were fluttered with small droplets of blood.

"John," Monica said and pulled over, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting a better look. John moved his hands back innocently, unable to tell what was happening. Monica took out a Kleenex and carefully wiped his eyes, looking at the traces of red liquid she found there.

"What?" he asked. Monica couldn't speak.

Phoebe stared back, showing nothing as the black form watched her with what resembled a smile. The brown haired youth didn't move, transfixed with the sight before her eyes.

The demon held out an arm, the end sharpened to a glossy point. She didn't react or move at all, even when it was driven into her heart.

Doggett coughed at the pain in his chest. Monica was getting worried now. She looked at him as he groaned.

"John, what's wrong?" He breathed slowly, trying to ease the growing pressure in his heart.

"John?" Monica asked frantically. Her partner gasps and reclaimed his breath, but not without a price.

"You have to go. Phoebe's in trouble." Monica didn't ask. She put her foot on the pedal and drove.

Phoebe held back, still breathing as the point moved inside her. It didn't hurt, it didn't even bleed. But an increasing amount of pressure was on her heart. A cold wind was forcing itself around the kitchen, moving over her wet limbs and causing her fingers to numb. Still she stared back at the figure before her, unafraid of everything that could happen to her.

The wind grew fiercer around her, causing her head to swim inside it. Come on Phoebe, focus. She willed herself closer, the pressure growing with every centimetre she moved. Their heads were so close together now, and Phoebe growled as she punched her own fist inside the inky substance.

A high pitched scream grew louder and louder in the small home. Phoebe drove her hand further with all her strength, grasping the tightened ball of hard, cold metal within him.

"You can't kill me, human." The demon impaled her on his sharpened arm, as Phoebe yanked the cold metal centre from him and dropped it to the ground.

"And you can't kill me," she said, holding her breath as the form pulled the spike from her chest and dropped her to the floor.

Phoebe coughed, looking around as the rain moved over her face. She went into the kitchen and looked around again.

The Mayoke Bracelet lay on the kitchen floor.

John breathed easily. Monica looked from the driver's seat. She too had been hyperventilating.

"John?" she asked cautiously, watching him closely. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes slightly. Monica pulled over to the side of the road and again and leaned to him. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, looking at her blankly. She hugged him softly, burying her head into his shoulder as they sat together. John couldn't see her, but he could move his fingers over her back carefully. Monica sighed and smiled, placing a small kiss on his cheek.

"Let's get out of here Monica." She grinned and smiled, and kissed him on the lips this time.

Chapter 5: A Nice Serving of Chaos With Destruction for Dessert

"There's gotta be more to life. Then chasing down every temporary high to satisfy me. Cause the more that I'm tripping up thinking there must be more to life. Well there's life, but I'm sure there's gotta be more."

~Stacie Oricco, More to Life (There's Gotta Be)

John opened his eyes and blinked, trying to see. Where the hell was he? He couldn't see, but the memories of yesterday were back, telling him that his lack of sight was somehow natural. Still, the darkness chilled him, scaring him like a child.

Consciousness came, bringing the feeling of warmth and something on his chest like a dead weight, constricting his breathing. The bruise from yesterday had swollen, becoming more blue and even black in the centre like some explosion on his skin. His fingers told him not to move, as he could feel the body of Monica Reyes on him.

Closing his unseeing eyes again, he sighed deeply, trying to breathe easier. Monica seemed to stir for a moment, before rolling back over.

"Hey," she said. John took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Morning." He replied. "I'm assuming."

"You still can't see?" she asked bluntly, waving a hand over his face. John shook his head, completely uncreative to her almost poking him. Monica sighed.

"So, what's happening today?" she asked, getting up and hugging a sheet to her chest. John groaned, sitting up as well.

"I think this case is closed. I mean, besides this." She knew he was emphasizing his eyes. Monica nodded and shifted closer, laying on his shoulder. "I think we should pay them just one more visit."

"You're serious?" she asked, getting a nod. Monica sighed again, nodding with him.

"I'm driving." She joked, and John kissed her.

"Phoebe!" Joe pounded on her door. She hadn't come out of that room all night. Her parents were doing everything but getting a court order to get her back. Joe had assured them he would have her back on the property after breakfast, but Phoebe wasn't being so cooperative. The girl hadn't left her bedroom since last night, mumbling something that was both incoherent and too quiet to hear. "Phoebe come on and get some food! You must be starving!"

"Not hungry, thanks Joe!" She replied, falling silent once again. Joe sighed deeply, walking back into the kitchen where Brian was sitting at the table with a slice of cold pizza going into his mouth.

"What's up with her?" Joe asked. Brian shrugged and bit off half the pizza slice, swallowing it in two bites before shouting.

"Phoebe! Get out here and eat something!"

"I'm not hungry. Thanks Brian!"

"Okay, there's something wrong with that girl." Joe added, eating a piece of pizza himself.

"This the place?" Monica asked, forgetting that John couldn't exactly identify where they were going. He tried to blink a few times and then replied.

"It's kind of hard to tell. Want to just wait here until my sight comes back?" Monica laughed a little.

"Well don't we have a sense of humour this morning," she said, getting a nod from her partner. Monica sighed deeply. "What are we doing here John?"

"Solving a murder case." He responded innocently. Monica shook her head.

"This doesn't look like solving a murder case John."

"You know, you're sounding an awful lot like Scully." He got back at her. Monica shook her head again.

"Fine. But I'm just telling you that Kersh was calling my cell phone non-stop yesterday. He's fully prepared to fire us."

"This is supposed to surprise me?" Monica laughed.

"Another one. My, John, you're on a roll. Perhaps you should become blind more often."

"This will go down in history as the only day John Doggett lost his sight. I assure you." Monica grinned and got out of the car.

Phoebe had been sitting with the blonde haired boy for the past 5 hours. She didn't know how she went without sleep. She just didn't need it. Her body betrayed her, feeling like she could just pass out at any time now. Still, the boy was curled up on her floor, colouring with a set of crayons she had kept under her floor and paper stolen off the printer.

"What's that?" she asked him about the picture.

"It's him." The boy replied quietly. He was clutching her bracelet in one hand, his fist clenched tightly so the knuckles were white. The other was making a blob of black on the paper. Phoebe had collected an assortment of pictures. Several of his father, his mother, who was blonde, and a dog who died when he was three. Phoebe liked children. They weren't angry so much of the time.

"He doesn't like Daddy." He replied quietly, stopping and placing his chin on his bent knee. Phoebe watched him with her vivid blue eyes, clutching her heart. "He says Daddy's mean."

"Why would he say something like that?" she asked with a smile.

"He says...he says...he says I can't talk to you."

"Why not?" she asked him, moving a little closer. Luke set down the crayon and handed her the bracelet.

"He wants this." Phoebe took the Mayoke bracelet back, holding it in the palm of her hand.

"Luke you don't have to be scared." She assured him. But Luke got to his feet and looked fearfully behind her. "What is it?"

The look of fear passed. Phoebe turned her head, but there was nothing there.

"Luke?" she asked again, but he ran through the wall and out the door.

"Phoebe?" Joe knocked on the door again, knowing there was no point. Phoebe was just going to give him another sugar sweet answer like she'd been doing all morning. "Phoebe? Agents Doggett and Reyes are here to see you?"

"Not in the mood. Thanks Joe!" She said, grabbing her coat off the desk chair and opening her window. "I'll be back in while. Tell them it was a pleasure to have met them."

"Phoebe?" John asked. Phoebe stopped halfway out her window. "I have to know why I can't see." The young girl sighed, fighting her conscience, but lost and moved to the door, opening it.

"You can't see because it covering your eyes. You have to get rid of it."

"How?" He demanded blindly, looking slightly over Phoebe's shoulder. She opened her door fully and ducked under Doggett, who stood blindly for a moment before realizing he couldn't hear her breathing in front of him anymore. Damn this! He thought, tapping his head a little. Phoebe grabbed the phone book off the coffee table, fidgeting with a bottle of her favourite medication as she did so. The cap came off but there was only one pill inside. Groaning, she dialled the number and listened to it ring. And ring. And ring.

"Alright." She announced, setting the phone down. "You're screwed. My good friend the Priest is gone."

"Priest?" Monica asked, unsure if he really wanted the answer to that question.

"Well you can't expect me to do an exorcism." John's eyes widened.

"Trust me. If there's one person who knows where to find Father Alex it's Phoebe." Brian assured the two Agents who were waiting in their kitchen. He reading the movies that week. Well, not really reading. Brian's definition of reading was simply stare at a piece of paper long enough and maybe the information will sink in. Something that didn't help him prepare for tests.

"Who is this Father Alex?" Monica had to pry. "Friend of yours?"

"He was the one who cleansed the house before we moved in. Phoebe's been pestering him for a while now to come back, but he's been a prick about it...as usual. Damn guy is the only Carolingian in the district."

"Carolingian?" John asked.

"Priest of the old order, trained in exorcisms and various other old order techniques. He's the best, well, second best if you count his mentor Father Geoffrey, and third if you could Father Dominic in Rome."

"And he can fix this?" Monica asked. Brian nodded. "Without hurting John?" Another nod. She sighed in relief.

"Death from exorcisms is painless and unlikely."

John suddenly looked very afraid.

Father Alex Cross was looming at the Alter, looking upward at the crucifix of his Lord. He didn't expect many people in today. Confession was being attended to by his Deacon, and he wasn't counting on there being any problems. He stood up, shocked a little by a female voice that came from behind.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been a lifetime since my last confession." He turned and face the half-amused Phoebe Nameth. "Hello Alex."

"Phoebe, I am not selling exorcisms today." He walked away, as Phoebe sighed and followed in protest. Alex groaned and turned. "Look, I am not going to be made a mockery of by an atheist who can see the dead. Can you please leave?"

"I didn't think a Priest could do that." She retorted, getting another amplified groan from Alex, who started walking again. She took off, tight on his heels. "Look I need your help. This friend, he's blind..."

"So take him to a optometrist."

"You didn't listen. He's blind due to a Demon."

"Once again, I am not here to be made a mockery of."

"Would you just...STOP!?" Phoebe asked loudly, her voice resonating into the church. Alex turned to face her. "Look, I need your help. So before you pull the whole holier then thou please listen?" He looked like he was thinking about it, an improvement for Phoebe who was usually shunned by the Man of God. Finally he sighed.

"I know I'm going to regret this." Phoebe gave a soft smile.

"There's nothing wrong with his eyes." Alex commented and walked to the door. Phoebe was on her feet in an instant, while John considered this to be an even worse idea then before.

"And I think this is stupid." Phoebe shot him a dirty glance. "You know for someone without religion you certainly believe in a lot of crap."

"Says the man who can't see." She retorted sarcastically and went after Alex. John sighed again and got to his feet, searching blindly for Monica who slid her hand in his.

"Look Phoebe, thank you but there is no way I getting someone to whisper mumbo-jumbo to cure me."

Brian and Joe left, murmuring something about 'having to do something'. Phoebe watched the door slam and Alex nearly get his coat tail stuck in the slammed surface. With a pound on the wall she regained composure.

"Alright, fine. Leave." She replied angrily, going back to her room and slamming the door. John looked at Monica.

"You certainly have a way with people, John."

"Says the woman who can see." He imitated Phoebe with a mild arrogance, something that made a plate crash to the floor and shatter in the kitchen, as if on cue. John looked in the direction of the smash, as Monica started to lead him to the door.

"Come on." She coaxed, the air of a mother with a child in her voice. John followed obediently.


Phoebe slumped on her bed, breathing deeply. The bruise on her chest was throbbing and an unnatural and unhealthy amount of pressure was pushing on her heart. She felt so helpless like that, and pathetic. It felt childish to storm off because things didn't go her way. She finally gave up on her naïve self-pity party and stood up, marching into the kitchen. She proceeded to make herself four waffles with ice cream and strawberries before plopping in front of Due South for 3 hours straight.

John hated not driving. He used to think he loved driving. And then he read in one of those sports magazines that driving was just another male testosterone rush. Or was that one of Monica's SELF magazines he had glanced at 'for amusement' while in her house one day? He didn't know. And trying to think about how it looked only reminded him once again that he wasn't able to see.

"Let's go home John," Monica said quietly as she started to drive. John sighed and breathed deep, and nodded with a imitation smile.

John was ignorant to the imaginary tug on his sleeve. And the boy in the back seat was crouched on the floor, huddling from the black form growing behind his father.

Chapter 6: The Helpless Asking for Help

"Let's do the time warp again! It's just a jump to the left. And then a step to the right! Put your hands on your hips. And pull your knees in tight! And it's a pelvic thrust that really drives you insane! Let's do the time warp again!"

~The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Time Warp

Luke opened his eyes wider as he tugged on his father's sleeve, trying to get the man's attention. He said nothing, slipping into a silent vigil intent on telling his father that he was in danger. Lifting his head up, he looked into the cold eyes of the black, inky form developing, with a giant spike for a arm and hand, getting ready to force it through the seat and murder his Daddy.

But Luke was on a rescue mission of his own, and with a large amount of bravery he forced the silver bracelet into his Daddy's pocket and shook it around, finally stirring something of attention from his father.

The Demon like thing shoved the stake through John's heart, and Luke moaned silently, but saw that the spike went straight through his father, and not touch him at all. The boy gave a triumphant grin and curled under the seat like a cat.

John looked behind him, wondering what had made that noise. He felt a dead weight in his pocket, shoving his hand inside and picked out the infamous charm bracelet that apparently belonged to Phoebe. The second the metal touched his fingers the blackness covering his eyes seemed to fade away, and small splashes of colour appeared. The boy under the seat watched the black form leave the car entirely followed by small pieces floating from his Daddy. John blinked and winced at the harsh light.

"What is it?" Monica asked, as her partner's eyes tightened so hard that tears formed and started to fall down his cheeks. John pulled the object from his pocket and looked at Monica.

"I think it's that bracelet Brian was looking for at the Police Station," he said, rubbing his eyes with a small laugh. "And it's a miracle worker."

"How do you mean?" He looked at her sincerely.

"I can see again." He replied, rubbing his eyes again. The boy grinned and sat on the back seat, swinging his legs. Monica grinned and sighed deeply.

"Why do I have a feeling we're turning around?" she asked, not expecting a response.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phoebe sat on the dining room table, cross-legged and staring at the wall. Brian was in his room, Joe was on the computer, and she was staring at a wall. She was holding her small tape recorder, hoping maybe some visitor would come by and she could do her thing. But the house was eerily silent, especially for one haunted by the dead.

"That was really smart of you." A cold voice said from behind her. Phoebe didn't turn or flinch; she was half expecting the thing to show back up. "Giving him the silly bracelet. You must think you're a regular hero."

"No." She replied simply, as the form floated over her and curled around her like a snake. It's head moved over her shoulder and looked her straight in the eyes, staring at her with its empty sockets. Phoebe stared back. "What do you want anyways? It kills you that you never finished."

"It was your fault too, a hundred years ago wasn't it? I can't remember. I've just been carrying on the good word. Through other people, that is. And your friend John Doggett should be one of them."

"Go to Hell." Phoebe commanded as the apparition tightened it around her, giving her Goosebumps. A cold chill ran up her spine slowly but surely, causing her to shake for a second or two. The Demon laughed.

"Would, but I've got work to do. Stay out of it." The black form flew off, leaving Phoebe alone in the kitchen again as she sighed and closed her eyes. The bruise on her chest pounded again, and she reached into her pocket for Tylenol.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

John knocked on the door, planning to make this a quick exchange of greetings, hand back the frigging bracelet, and get on the road before rush hour. But fate, as it had beautifully proven over the last day or so, was not on his side, and was somehow pushing for him to stay yet another night in San Francisco.

Joe answered after a moment.

"I thought you were going back to Washington?" he asked, getting a sigh from John who handed him the bracelet.

"Give this back to Phoebe." He replied. "I have to go."

"Sure." He replied, looking through the house again. Joe gave an odd look and a searching glance through the rooms of his home. "That's weird, she's not here."

"Well, just be sure that she gets that." John replied, walking away from the apartment. Joe nodded and looked through the rooms again. Where the hell did Phoebe go?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monica groaned, amplifying it as her frustration grew. This can't be happening, her mind told her. This can't be happening, the car was just working a moment ago!

She revved the engine again; pushing the keys so far ahead she thought she'd break something, namely the key. But the car that had worked all of about a minute ago was dead in the parking lot.

John walked back to the car, seeing his partner banging on the dashboard with her fists. He looked strangely at the sight, not sure whether it was healthy for Monica to show such violence to the rental vehicle. He quickened his pace across the lot.

Monica swung the door and said some harsh things in Spanish. He assumed they couldn't be good, considering the tone his female counterpart was taking with them.

"Ramera," she said under her breath. Doggett lifted a brow. Her understood that word (AN: Ramera is Bitch in Spanish). Monica lifted the hood and looked through everything. "Damn it there is nothing wrong with this car!"

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked, Monica pointing at it angrily.

"Maybe you could go get that bracelet back, because we need another miracle, John." He groaned too. "This car's not going anywhere. Damn it, I HATE LEYLA HARRISON!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phoebe walked back inside the Church of her 'dear friend' Alex Cross. Her lips were pursed, more from the anger of the fact that Alex stormed out on her then the growing pressure on her chest. According to Joe she had the pain tolerance of a rhino. She didn't argue. Damn it! She'd survived worse then a bruise.

The mass was close to done, and while everyone walked to receive communion Phoebe stormed up the aisle, butting a whole row of people without a conscience. Running to Alex, she left her arms at her sides.

"Your religion sucks, and you are a bastard." She whispered, getting some shocked looks from the Deacon next to him. Waiting longer, she continued. "And I think that if you had half a soul you would have stayed. But maybe you're not the guy I thought you were."

Phoebe turned on a heel and walked out of the church, half wishing for a movie ending to that moment, as if there was a chance Alex would run after her and kiss her.

~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The door opened and Phoebe threw her coat aside. John looked at her innocently from the kitchen, and she said nothing, slipping back under a mist of depression. Joe and Brian said nothing. Monica looked at them, as the closet door slammed.

"Great." Brian swore under his breath. He looked up. "Don't even bother her. She'll be in that damn room for a while."

"How long before they come to tow it?" Monica asked, wanting to get out of here before they got carried into something that was way outside their jurisdiction. She and John were already treading on the invisible line that meant the end of the X-Files.

"Give them 45 minutes. They're not quick but they're better then someone who'll cheat you out of a hundred before you even know the problem." Joe said. He gave a careful listen for Phoebe. An unnatural silence followed, shattered only by a shatter in the kitchen.

"That happens a lot around here doesn't it?" John asked, going to the window and looking outside. Brian got up from the table, just as Phoebe shouted from down the hall groaning.

"Joe, Brian. Open the door." She commanded loudly, the doorknob shaking. The room was colder now, her breath floating in white puffs of air. Her two friends walked down the hall. Phoebe began yanking on the handle harder. "Joe and Brian this isn't funny. Stop laughing and open the door."

"Phoebe we don't have a hold on the door." Brian said, trying to open it from his side of the room. Phoebe coughed loudly, turning around. The room was only getting colder.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kill her.

John sat up shocked at the whispery voice in his head. He turned, wondering if it was just some cheap joke by the residents in the home. But he was alone in the living room from the altercation in the hallway. The voice was breathing hoarsely.

Kill her. Make her bleed.

He looked around again, the voice creeping down his spine. With a glare, he searched the house again, going to the kitchen, moving to the shattered plates on the floor.

Take her now.

With a twang! A knife dropped from the shelf to John feet, sticking up in the tiles by its point. Doggett stepped back and moved into the hall, where Joe and Brian were still trying to get into their locked hallway closet.

"You okay John?" Monica asked, turning. John's eyes widened at Monica, who looked like a corpse. He stepped back again, blood moving from her body and crept across the floor to his. "John? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Phoebe stopped shaking the handle and started pounding on the door at hearing this. John looked at the door, then back at Monica.

The lights through the house flickered and died. Phoebe shivered, hugging her arms to her body in a desperate attempt at blocking out the cold.

"What's happening?" Monica asked. John looked around blankly, feeling like he was blind again. Phoebe replied, breathing heavily.

"He's trying to get John to kill you." She replied, shivering more as the cold wrapped itself around her and she fainted.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~




I might.



^ cough ^


Chapter 7: The Four Plains

You wouldn't kill me Gothic...would you? "hides behind a countertop with a water gun and a coconut as weapons." I wouldn't kill Monica. John, on the other hand...I've said too much. "Throws a smoke bomb to the ground and disappears"

"If you want to, I can save you. I can take you away from here. So lonely inside, so busy out there. And all you wanted was somebody who cares."

~Michelle Branch, All You Wanted

Chapter 7: The Four Plains

"Phoebe?" Brian asked the door, receiving no reply. He shook the handle. "Shit." He swore as he hurled himself against it. Joe heard an agonizing crack as Brian let out a cry in pain, clutching his left shoulder. The sharp corner of the wall had struck his collar bone, leaving him bleeding and with it most likely broken.

"Crap." Joe said, pounding on the door. "Phoebe?"

Come on John. The voice whispered again. John could practically hear the knife in the kitchen, ringing in his eyes with the raspy voice murmuring for him to kill his partner. You know you want to. Do it for me John. Take the knife and kill her. And then I'll make you immortal.

"Come on," John said, taking his partner by the hand. He was ignoring the amplifying voice with every ounce of his will. Monica looked at the door, the shocked faces of Joe and Brian as they tried to open the door following them as they continued with the attempts at helping their friend.

"John what's going on?" Doggett made a special look around the living room, walking at a heart racing pace. I'm not going to let you take her, he spoke to the invisible force through his head. "John?" He turned. "Where are you going?"

"We have to go, now." He replied. Monica looked back for a moment, just as John heard the tiles creak, and the knife lift from the kitchen tiles. It flew through the air.

"Monica!" He said in shock and pushed her out of the way. Blood splattered from his side as the knife impaled itself in his side.

Brian threw his good side into the door, holding back tears from his stinging shoulder. It was almost blinding, and tears were running down his cheeks from the burning moving up his neck. By far the worst injury I have ever had, he thought with a wince.

"Phoebe?" He called again, the female voice not answering from within. He groaned as he hurled himself into the door again, weaker this time. Joe twisted the handle as hard as he could, and finally broke it off completely. With a final push, the closet was opened. A cold chill moved from within, causing the two to shiver immediately. The shivers were also brought on by the motionless body of their friend.

"Oh my God." They dragged her into the hall, Joe looming over her mouth as he checked for breath. Brian pressed a hand to her wrist.

"Oh God." Joe said, and Brian nodded.

Phoebe was dead.

Monica got up off the floor and crawled to her partner. "John." She whispered, waving a hand in front of his face. Her eyes burned as her hand moved over the wound, touching his warm blood and nearly jumping back. "John?"

"Yeah." He whispered and coughed, lips covered in a small amount of blood.

"John," she said with a smile, but soon started sobbing. John lifted a hand and placed it on her cheek, feeling her tears. He seemed to cry as well.

"I love you Monica." He assured her with a nod, and as Monica sobbed, John's hand went limp and dropped from her cheek. She shook him, crying her heart out as her partner, her friend, her love, lay dying on the living room floor.

Phoebe awoke on her side, a bright light looming over her. She turned over, feeling completely empty. Her head was light and airy, and her whole body felt numb, like she was paralysed. Her limbs, however, could move, and she stood up.

Where the hell...? She asked, but found herself in the hall closet. The door was open. And there was Joe and Brian. And they're doing CPR? With a searching look she moved and her eyes widened as she found her body under Joe's hands.

Phoebe felt like fainting, but she refused to and stepped back into the room, the light above her vanishing. The tunnel, she thought. And I missed it.

Luke pulled on her pants.

"Hey, Luke," she said with a smile, bending down. Brian looked up and saw straight through her. Phoebe wasn't seen by Brian. She waved her arms like an idiot and then went back to Luke. "What's wrong sweetie?"

"He killed Daddy." Luke said. Oh shit, Phoebe thought, and ran to the living room.

John was praying what he was seeing wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He wasn't dead...was he? It wasn't possibly.

The pain was gone, something he was very happy about. But seeing Monica was killing him over and over again, as she fumbled with the phone to call 9-1-1.

"Oh great." Phoebe said, making John turn. They looked at each other for a moment, both a little frightened at the experience of being dead. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I could ask the same about you," John said. They stood there, lamenting the situation for a moment as Monica reached the ambulance. Phoebe started to get dizzy, seeing Monica fade from her vision. Vertigo passed over her as she closed her eyes and sighed. "What is it?"

"Just dizzy." She replied, as Monica completely faded from her sight. John seemed to experience the same thing as well. Phoebe looked down, but Luke was gone. "Luke?" Phoebe asked. The name hit John hard. A soft moan was heard from the kitchen and the two went to investigate.

The Demon sat on the table, holding a large spike to Luke's chest.

Brian and Joe were about to give up. In fact they were so close that they were starting to wear and cry over the body of their friend. When Phoebe's pulse suddenly started to come back to them, threaded and weak, but there.

Phoebe felt a cold feeling wash over her, like she was alive again. Not now, she thought. The irony pressed on her that she didn't want to come back to life at that instant. John's attention from the Demon was slightly torn, watching Phoebe stumble backwards and cough. The Demon laughed and Phoebe vanished from the kitchen, leaving John alone.

"Daddy." Luke gave a small cry from the arms of the beast. John couldn't believe it, and was slightly shocked at the image. Luke reached out as the point of the Demon pierced his son's chests, causing a bright light to erupt from the puncture. Doggett moved forward.

"Coming closer isn't in the best interest of your son, as I am seeing." The harsh, whispery voice of the Demon curling around Doggett like a snake. "Perhaps you should back off before I get angry."

"Who the hell are you?" John demanded. "And what do you want with my son?"

"Think about it John. This meeting of you and the three...kids was not a chance. This whole situation, albeit some events in this variation are askew, has happened before. You're spirit will remember." John didn't seem to care about this long history lesson. "London, 1899. Jack the Ripper?"

John had a small flash of memory, a gunshot and a slash of blood.

"New Orleans, 1927."

The same flash, and then a growing pressure on John's heart.

"I am no stranger to you, John. I have been doing this for a century."

"That doesn't answer my question!"

"I am Hell, John. The embodiment of Satan himself. And now I have your son."

Phoebe felt a pain in her chest and she tried to breathe, but had to cough violently before her lungs started to work again. Every muscle felt like it was on fire, and eventually became dull ache as her eyes opened and Brian and Joe came into view.

"Oh my God, Phoebe." Brian said, hugging her tightly with his one good arm. Phoebe moaned weakly in protest. Alright, this ranks very high on my injury metre, she thought and sat up, very dizzy.

"Are you alright?" Joe asked as Phoebe coughed again. All her strength returned.

"I have to go." She shouted and bolted to the kitchen.

Monica heard the commotion in the hall, but all her senses were focused on the dead Agent below her. Until Phoebe's irate shouting awoke her vigil, of course.

"Monica!" She shouted, and panted as she keeled over in the living room. Her chest was aching from the very bad CPR job Brian and Joe had done. "Monica. He's...not dead. I can...get him back...just...trust me." The female Agent got to her feet and Phoebe looked through the kitchen for John and the Demon, but there was nothing there. Great, she thought. Just perfect.

"What's happened to him?" She demanded. Phoebe caught her breath and lowered herself onto the couch weakly, leaning back as her strength slowly returned.

"He's trapped in a deeper plain then I can see." She responded to the Agent, as Brian and Joe appeared in the doorway. "Did they tell you about the plains?" Monica nodded shakily. Phoebe breathed heavily and continued. "John and I were on the Astral Plain, I'm assuming. But now they're deeper. So deep that I doubt even a out of body experience will save him. But he's not dead."

"How do you know?" Monica asked between sobs. Phoebe leaned over and nearly vomited on the carpet.

"Because that thing still needs John to kill you." Phoebe replied. Monica looked over at her partner. Perfect.

Monica was sure John was dead. He looked dead. He felt dead. True, he didn't smell dead but he still looked and felt it, and that was good enough for the rationality of the Agent.

Sighing in Phoebe's bedroom where they'd moved the evidence, Monica was keeping a constant vigil over her partner, sitting on the floor. She felt like half her life had gone by when shouting was heard from the kitchen. Crawling to the door while shaking, Monica listened.

"Phoebe this is crazy."

"Yes, it is but big deal! I can do it Joe!"

"You've already technically 'died' tonight Phoebe, and this is called suicide no matter what culture you're in."

"I know I can come back. I've experimented with this type of stuff before and..."

"Wait, hold on a second. You've done this and you haven't told us?" Joe demanded, hating the idea of Phoebe's already. Now it was just out of the question. Phoebe shrugged.

"Once..." The two glares pierced through her lie. "Twice?" Again, the glaring crushed her conscience. "Fine it was eleven times. But I swear that's it."

"That's it?!" Joe shouted. "That's it. This isn't something you screw with Phoebe. This isn't the Astral Plain this is deeper! We vowed from the beginning none of us would ever go that deep."

"Well, whatever cause I'm doing it." Phoebe dropped off the counter.

"Phoebe..." Brian protested.

"No. You two want to do what's best for me, then let me do this. Otherwise, I'll take up the razor blade again." A silence fell upon the kitchen as Phoebe walked to the bedroom door and nearly took Monica's head off as she swung it open.

"Hey," Monica said, recovering from the evening's events. Phoebe nodded. "What are you going to do?" The teen bit on her lip for a moment.

"It's a séance thing. It's like having an out of body experience but you're not really dead. You're just on another plain. And in this case you have to go extremely deep into the Plains. The Demon Plain is fairly hard to control and even the most trained of people don't usually come back."

"And you plan on doing it?"

"It's the only way to bring him back." Phoebe replied bluntly, looking at the Agent. She stood up again and walked for the door. Monica stood up.

"I can't let you do that."

"You can't? Or you won't?" The two stood there in silence as Phoebe walked to Brian's room and locked the door. Brian and Joe watched her, knowing it would probably be the last time they saw Phoebe alive again.

John walked down another corridor. Damn this place, he thought. If this was a dream, it was a nightmare. He had blinked and poof! Here he was in a giant maze, a labyrinth of sorts, listening to the sounds of Luke crying somewhere. If this was a game, it wasn't very funny at all.

Phoebe set her Mayoke on the floor in front of her and sat cross-legged. She didn't cry. Phoebe Nameth did not cry. Pieces of debris fell in her eyes, but she did not ever cry. With a final sigh she sank down deep into her mind, and just allowed the noise of life to continue.

She was used to this by now. The first thing was a cold rush of wind, and then a sensation of falling. The falling brought on dizziness and vertigo, making her head spin with agony. And then there was that empty feeling, and when she opened her eyes she would be waking amongst the dead.

But this wasn't the dead, she thought. You're going to Hell.

John grabbed a door forcefully and tried to open it. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. Every place he tried was locked.

There was a crack and he turned, facing the young teenager with a small amount of happiness. Phoebe sighed and went to him.

"We have to go." She ordered. "I can't stay long."

"We can't leave. My son's still here."

"That's sweet, John. But neither of us can stay here."

"I'm not leaving!"

"DAMN IT JOHN!" She shouted, her voice resonating.

"I can't and won't leave without him." Phoebe felt herself go cold again, as if she were rushing back to her body. She spun her head and concentrated, keeping her down in the Plain a little longer. John walked down the hall again as Phoebe ran from behind and grabbed his wrist again, pulling him back with her.

"Let go!"

"I hardly think he wants to lose you now come on!"



"You go back if you're so intent on it. I am not leaving my son!"

"But you'd leave Monica, wouldn't you?" Phoebe had struck a nerve, obviously, since John stopped shouting at her. The teen looked at him deeply, empathizing. "I'm sorry about your son Doggett, and I will come back for him. But right now, you have to go back to Monica."

John said nothing. In his heart he knew he couldn't leave his son, dead or living. But to live without Monica? He wasn't sure if this was Hell because there was no escape, or that she wasn't here. Finally, he did something he would regret.

Monica loomed over John's body, sniffling softly to herself. Finally, she picked his hand up in hers, as he suddenly coughed and spluttered, and a warmth moved through him again that Monica thought she'd always lost. With a new smile she waited for his eyes to open as he sat up and hugged her tightly. She sobbed.

"I thought I'd never see you again." Monica cried. John smiled softly to himself.

"I'd never leave you."

The events of the past few days told Monica that was true. John looked at the door, seeing Phoebe's electric blue stare come from the crack before she turned and walked away.

"I'm going to talk to Alex again." She told Brian and Joe. Brian was fidgeting in the sling around his arm.

"Phoebe, you've died twice today. You want a drive?" Brian offered.

"No thanks." She grabbed a piece of cold pizza from the fridge and munched on it as she walked out the fire escape. "But I want you to keep an eye out for a blonde boy. Don't let him get near the steak knives."

I just love happy endings, don't you? WELL IT'S NOT THE END (review permitting)! So go and click that button before I do something mean to Doggett! "holds the coconut at Doggett's head, who points gun at her." Meep. "drops coconut, licks Doggett's cheek and runs like mad"

Chapter 8: Let the Rain Fall

I'm sorry I made you cry Gothic! I swear I never meant to leave Doggett dead for a long time. Now it's off to the hospital for pain killers and surgery, whilst the rest of the new gang figures out a way to get Luke out of the clutches of Hell...and the answers to Satan's conviction with Doggett coming up! Did I mention that everyone reading this gets a free coconut?

"A pill to make you numb, a pill to make you dumb, a pill to make you anybody else. But all the drugs in this world, won't save her from herself."

~Marilyn Manson, Coma White

Chapter 8: Let the Rain Fall

It was raining. The splashes on the window was telling John a constant message in his drugged mind. He was alive.

Course he could have just trusted the agonizing pain building up in his right side. That too was a good indicator that life wasn't gone from the world of the living. A eternity talking through Phoebe? Please say he had a good little while left on his life.

He opened his un-cooperative eyelids, that hung down over his eyes from both exhaustion and artificial drowsiness brought on whatever had been pushed into his IV earlier. He had a vague memory of a mass amount of something being shoved into his system, swirling around his bloodstream and making him pass out.

Monica smiled at him.

"Morning," she said cheerfully. John coughed and smiled mildly, the best he could manage in such circumstances. Carefully she reached for the water on the table. "Thirsty?"

"No." He croaked, but like a mother again Monica forced him to down the whole glass while speaking.

"Phoebe stopped by." She made a small glance to the singular orchid on the bedside table. John placed a hand on it, feeling the petals under his fingers. "And Kersh is expecting our letters of resignation by the day after tomorrow."

"Nice thing to wake up to." John groaned again, laying back on the pillows. Monica sighed and smiled softly. "What are you so happy about?"

"Well, considering you just clinically died within the last 24 hours and I've had to listen to Scully lecture about the danger we put ourselves in the line of duty while you slept, I'd say that you regaining consciousness is a good reason to smile. John nodded and rubbed his eyes, making an imitation attempt at sitting up. Monica placed a protective hand on his shoulder. "And you're to stay lying down until your blood pressure comes back."

"Scully's orders?" Monica nodded with a smirk. "There's nothing I love more then word from Doctor Scully."

"Good, because your about to hear more of them." The red headed Agent Scully walked in, arms folded on her black suit. She looked like hell. Doggett and Monica decided that thought would never leave, but the single mother literally looked like she too had been to Hell and back.

"More Doctor's orders. Somehow, I'm wishing I had died yesterday." Scully bit her tongue.

"Well, you're very lucky, Agent Doggett, since you were in surgery for two straight hours, had to have your intestinal tract fixed and stitched and that you lost a hell of amount of blood." Good thing she's not using big words, Doggett thought with a sigh of relief. That whole statement would have flown right over his head. "But, since you're awake, I'd say you're on the mend."

"That's good news." Doggett replied. Scully seemed to nod. "But why do I think there's some bad news coming after it?"

"Not so much bad news. I'm just confused as to how you seemingly die on a living room floor and are alive and kicking today."

"I wish I could elaborate. But I don't think my explanation is going to make it any easier for you, Agent Scully." The red haired Agent nodded.

"Well, they want to keep you for one more day, observation."

"I hate observation."

"Well, if you don't stay I'll have no trouble in drugging you to your eyebrows." She threatened. Doggett gave a weak laugh.

"I think someone else already beat you to it, Agent Scully." She grinned and turned, walking slowly out of the room. Monica gave a small laugh. Doggett could see right through her. "What is it?"

"Nothing." She replied. Doggett kept his weak eyes staring until she finally broke. "Alright, it was just what Phoebe said yesterday, you know, about you killing me? I was just thinking about that and I found out some interesting info."

"Go on." He replied, trying to get comfortable. Monica opened the plastic bag at her side and pulled out a heavy book.

"You said that the spirit mentioned Jack the Ripper. I was fortunate enough to spend over an hour in Phoebe's room to find this." John looked at it, trying to wake up enough to clearly read the title. The Portrait of a Killer, Jack the Ripper, Case Closed by Patricia Cornwell. "Obviously it's pretty general and sketchy, but I did find something very interesting. This woman claims that Jack the Ripper was an artist named Walter Sickert."

"The Artist?" Monica looked a little surprised that John knew who she was talking about. "Sorry. I remember seeing a little of his work on vacation with Barbara," Monica said nothing, but, instead, continued.

"Sickert painted and drew pictures of women being mutilated for pleasure."

"Kind of sick, isn't he?" Doggett asked, looking at the open picture of Mary Kelly being shown to him. Monica nodded.

"Anyways. I used a couple of other books and pieced together this much. That Inspector Abberline, who investigated the murder, shares your birthday."

Quick Little Author's Note: That piece of information is fabricated. The book, Portrait of a Killer said nothing of the sorts, and I am simply manipulating some events to my advantage. Abberline did, however, exist (a small tidbit of info most likely cherished by those who have seen the movie From Hell).

"You're not saying..."


"I was afraid you'd say that."

"Well, there's too many coincidences to count. Abberline's birth date coincides with your birthday..."

"You're about to tell me one of his victims was on your birthday?"

"No, actually I was going to say that Walter's death day also falls on that day."

"Oh, well that's some form of relief."

"You're lying to me aren't you?"

"How could you tell?" he asked her coyly.

"Because you always do that thing when you lie."

"What thing?"

"That!" She pointed at him. "That thing!"

"You know sometimes I just don't get you." Monica laughed and sighed deeply. Doggett reached out a hand lovingly to her. She took it in her hand. They just looked at one another for a moment and finally he broke the silence.

"What thing?"

"Shut up, John."

Alex Cross locked the gates into the Church tightly, seeing the rest of his congregation go home. Usually at this time there were no people trying to get into the Church. But he didn't put it past the brunette that showed up on his steps that night.

Phoebe looked through the bars. The Priest turned inside.

"Alex, please don't do this. I'm really sorry." He turned back and let the anger get the better of him.

"Phoebe would you leave me alone!" He shouted, making Phoebe's eyes flare. "You pick me up and drop me for doing the things that I do and now you're back. Why does this look like a lose-win situation in your favour!?"

"Please Alex, I just need a little more of your time." Phoebe begged. Alex growled and turned back inside. Phoebe snatched him by the robe and flipped him to face her. "Please?" she asked gently. The Priest sighed, looking into Phoebe's giant green eyes as he sighed deeply. Finally he grabbed the lock and clicked it open and Phoebe walked in.

"What can I help you with?" The girl grinned and walked with him.

"I need some help with a Demon. And I need to see those Latin books on reincarnation you have."

Doggett awoke again, feeling a little more in with the program this time. The rain was still splashing on the windows, he noticed, but Monica wasn't in the chair next to him, something that scared him a little. And it wasn't any consolation that Phoebe was standing near the window. He gave a small cough, seeing the teenager turn and give a small smile.

"What news from the other side?" he asked with a sense of mild humour only achieved when you were on your last legs. The Girl grinned wildly and grabbed her chair.

"I have some news."

"Good or bad?" Doggett asked, wondering what was going on in the mind of Phoebe Nameth that day. She yanked out a frail book and opened it to a page showing a man with a upside down pentagram inside him.

"Recognize this?" she asked. Doggett shook his head. "This is a picture painted in the late 16th century, signifying the Devil within men. And this..." She pulled a rough photocopy, "Is a picture done by Walter Sickert."

"Jack the Ripper," John said lazily. "I hate to break it to you but I've heard this before."

"No you haven't, since I just found out that Walter had these things posted all over his Private Study."

Quick Little Author's Note: Yet another piece of fabricated info right there.

"Monica said you had mentioned something about Jack the Ripper, so I went looking for a little bit of stuff that wasn't mentioned in the book. And I found out that Walter believed himself to be possessed for the better part of his life. And that the symbol 'Never Ending' was tattooed on his lower back."

Author's Note: The tattoo is a total lie. I apologize that a lot of my info is fabricated, but I needed it to work with the story.

"So this thing that currently has my son is Jack the Ripper?"

"No. Because Jack the Ripper, Walter Sickert, was human, and no human can become that powerful. I'm saying that the thing that has your son also used the man Jack the Ripper to carry out his work on Earth. And I'm saying that this thing is trying to use you like Jack the Ripper."

"But that doesn't..." John was about to say something, and Phoebe was waiting for it, but suddenly it all clicked. Monica was insinuating that he was the inspector on the Jack the Ripper case. But what if he wasn't?

"Yes, John." Phoebe finally said. "You are Jack the Ripper. And if you look, today is the day you killed your last victim, Mary Kelly, also known as Monica Reyes."

Ha ha ha.

As Doggett would say, "Scared yet?" Lol. I loved that episode!

Okay. So now you can review. After I give a little bit of Author's Notes.

1) The Book, Portrait of a Killer, is available at local bookstores. I really recommend it especially if you have seen the movie From Hell, and even if you haven't and are looking for a good historical fiction.

2) I apologize for the large amount of facts that I simply plopped in there for correlation with my story.

3) That 'thing' Doggett does when he is lying will be answered in later chapters...if I feel like it.

4) Monica won't die. I've already caused Gothic to cry for him, and I apologize.

5) Thank you to all the reviewers of this story. You make my day. You really do. (sniff)

6) I should have mentioned this before, but Alex is a direct carbon copy of Heath Ledger's character in the movie The Order, which should be watched over and over because Heath is so hot.


Chapter 9: Why Can We Never Catch a Break?

Chapter 9...Will I become mean and simply leave you with nothing but a bitter cliffhanger? Or will I be nice and give you something to look forward to? Most likely a cliffy. Lol.

"Upside down, bouncing off the ceiling. Inside out, stranger to this feeling. I got no clue, what I should do. I'll go crazy if I can't get next to you."

~A Teens, Upside Down (Bouncing off the Ceiling)

Chapter 9: Why Can We Never Catch a Break?

Monica turned over again, unable to sleep in the motel room knowing John was in some hospital somewhere. She turned on the bedside lamp, dropping her head into her hands and sighing deeply as she slowed her heart rate. Something was causing her to be on edge. A sliver in her mind was telling her to be. And unconscious alarm in her chest was ordering her to be.

Something dropped in the room next door. The room that had formally been John's. Getting out of bed, her bare legs chilled by the air in the room. It was as if someone had just turned off the heat in winter in Alaska. She shivered, walking to the door, reaching a hand for the knob.

Luckily he didn't check out, she thought with imitation relief. It's probably just him. Couldn't wait to get out of the frigging hospital. She smiled softly and opened the door.

John's silhouette was in front of her, causing her to jump. Gasping, Monica caught her breath.

"John," she said, rubbing her eyes. She looked up, as her partner and friend pulled a knife from behind his back.

"Sorry," he said coldly, and thrust the blade into her stomach.

Monica burst awake, sunlight coming in through the windows. A pile of paper and folders lay under her head, covering her face with tiny carbon copy letters of ink that stained her dark skin. With a gasp she pushed herself off the bed, her heart racing. It was just a dream, Monica. Just a stupid dream.

She walked to the bathroom, running some water on her hands and rubbing her face gently. Somehow it felt like she was just running, breathing heavily with her heart pounding. Staring into the mirror she had a brief instant where she thought her face was falling apart with bleeding cuts. Jumping, startled, she walked out of the bathroom and hurryingly grabbed her coat, and ran out to her car.

Phoebe rose from the kitchen chair at the sound of a knife blade striking the floor. She thought it was some childish poltergeist, and cursed herself silently for not having the house blessed when she and Alex were on what could only resemble speaking terms. Now, however, it was useless to talk to the anal Priest without expecting to be insulted.

But the mischievous poltergeist wasn't what she saw. Inside, the cold and dead fingers curled around the handle of the knife blade. The stench of death was heavy in the air as the body and face of Harvey Lloyd rose to greet her with a sickening grin.

"Got myself a body. Now all I need is John Doggett and I'll be on my way." Phoebe opened her mouth a little, gaping slightly. Never had she seen something like this. Living with the dead made her desensitized. She stood slowly, watching the actual body cock it's head. "What are you looking at?"

"This. Can't. Happen." She told him sternly. Harvey laughed.

"You think you got it all figured out," he said with a cold laugh. "Well you're wrong. Walter may have been the Ripper, and John Doggett might have his soul, but I'm his flesh and blood. Great, great grandson. And now I've got enough strength to get rid of that foolish Mary Kelly for good."

"You can't get rid of Mary Kelly, moron." She swore at him angrily. Harvey just shrugged and walked to the fire escape. Phoebe ran jumping onto his back and wrapping her hands around his dying neck. Two cockroaches crawled out and over her fingers. Phoebe screamed, dropping onto the floor. Harvey laughed.

"Can't go anywhere without them," he said, as Phoebe shook them off her. They scampered back to Harvey. Chilled, but not beaten, she grabbed the cleaver from the knife block and chopped downward at him, just barely missing a thrust to her stomach.

"Just stop this, girl. Or I'll take your life too."

"That's not the way the story goes," she said, shaking her head. "You know that better then anyone. You can't simply kill of Mary Kelly. Doggett has to do it." Harvey growled and brought the knife down heavily, clashing with the cleaver and sending sparks into the air. Phoebe twisted just barely and thrust the cleaver into the rotting side, coughing from the odour.

Harvey brought the knife down on her back.

Kill her. Bleed her.

John shook his head, trying to clear it. Monica looked concerned.

"What's happening, John?" she asked, receiving no easy response from the Agent. "I don't know anymore. I had a dream you tried to kill me."

"I had a dream that I did kill you. How's that for coincidence?" John replied bluntly. "I don't know, Monica. There's definitely something weird going on."

"You're doing that thing again," Monica said flatly. Doggett sighed.

"Phoebe stopped by. She said that I was supposed to kill you within 24 hours."

An odd silence fell over the vehicle. Monica looked at her partner. He looked back sincerely, knowing the thoughts that were pouring over in her head. The chestnut haired Monica looked back at the road, sighing deeply. "Why'd she say that?"

"Jack the Ripper murdered his final victim today. Miss Mary Kelly. Jack the Ripper is Walter Sickert, who died on my birthday. And Mary Kelly happens to be you, apparently."

"So, you're supposed to kill me?"

"Technically, I smother you, then chop your body into pieces. Or that's how the story goes." Monica looked at him again, getting another adorable and sincere John Doggett glances. A shudder moved over her. "And this is ll supposed to happen by tonight."

Monica shook her head.

"You scared?" he asked her quietly. She nodded silently and he looked away, hearing her accelerate a little.

"Me too." He admitted. Monica looked back.

Phoebe dropped like a rock, rolling away from the approaching blade. Her skin prickled at the sensation of metal. She gripped the bracelet in her pocket and ripped it out, standing and punching the fist in his stomach. There was a crack as the skin split and the body began to burn. The beetles and cockroaches crawled over her arm, the body going limp and crashing to the floor, disappearing in a poof of ashes. The knife tumbled, slashing her down the forearm as the demon writhed in pain.

Phoebe withdrew her shaking hand, blood, moving over her fingers. The Demon growled, looming so close to her that goose bumps moved over her skin.

"Screw the rules."

"It doesn't matter. You're still bound to them. Why would you burn at this?" She held up the bracelet. The demon breath on her, the cold breath washing over her face and into her body.

"I'm going to kill her. That's the way the story goes."

There was a crack, and Phoebe was left alone in the kitchen.

"Brian? Joe?" She called. Two head emerged from the bedrooms. She clutched her bleeding arm and apprehensively approached them. "I need some help."

Kill her, John. Make her bleed. Bring her back to me. Keep it going. You know you want to.

John groaned, rubbing his temples as he sat on his bed. He was dressed at least, piling things into his suitcase. Monica was in the adjoined room, sorting out her thoughts.

Cut her, John. Bleed her. Slash her. Smother her. Chop her.

"Shut up." John commanded, as the door from Monica's room opened. Monica stepped inside his room, lowering her head.

"Hey," he said quietly. Monica nodded and quivered softly, and covered her eyes with her hand. She finally nodded, reassuring herself. "Monica, it's okay."

"I know." She replied. "I was just thinking..." The Agent had organized her thoughts. "This is all too weird. You're the soul of Jack the Ripper and I'm supposed to die by your hand. Correction, be massacred by you. As I sleep."

"I'd never hurt you Monica."

"I know, John. Believe me, I know. I just...I just don't know. Why does this happen? Is it just the universe or is it something else?"

"What do you mean?" He was curious to know what she meant all of a sudden.

"I mean, Walter Sickert made a choice to kill those women. Which means that you can make that choice too." She elaborated. "It's said that fate may not exist because you are in control of your own life. If this is true, then the only similarity between you and Walter Sickert is that you share a soul."

John looked at her, Monica appearing so wise for a moment.

"Or you could just go ahead and do it."

"Monica," he said, moving over and kissing her on the forehead sensually. Monica felt her eyes burn as John wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed her lips comfortingly. They remained like that for a moment, until he placed hands on her shoulders and pulled back, looking at her brown eyes while his blue ones pierced her soul. "I would never, ever, ever hurt you."

That did it. Damn it! I'm so sensitive! Monica was sobbing, holding John close as he suddenly tensed.

"What is it, John?"

"You're clutching my knife wound."

"Oh, sorry!" She released him, with a small laugh. He winced, tenderly brushing the tears from her face.

"Stop it." She demanded.

"What?" He inquired, clueless. Monica moved closer.

"Making me fall in love with you," she said quietly, kissing him again. John moved a hand to her neck.

"That's a bad thing?" He stopped a moment. "Because this is actually kind of nice."

"Kind of?" she asked, kissing him harder.

"Kind of." He assured her. Monica shook her head, pushing him back on the bed.

"Getting better yet?" she asked.

"I'll get back to you." He replied, wincing again from the injury in his side. Monica laughed.

The ashes were collected in a jar. Phoebe held her hand out for Joe to bandage it tightly, stopping the blood. She breathed deeply, the pain nothing to her almost. Compared to the heavy scar on her left wrist, it was nothing. Brian set the jar on the table as Joe finished.

"What's the next move?" he asked. Phoebe sighed.

"Getting rid of this thing. And to do that, we have to get rid of John Doggett."

His cell phone was ringing. Damn it! He shouted at himself. Probably Kersh. Just let it ring on the bastard. He thought, kissing Monica harder. They were laying on the bed now, his hand moving over her bare waist and up, under her blouse which was unbuttoned to her mid chest. The phone kept ringing, and Monica stopped, snatching it from his waist and answering quickly and breathlessly.

"Monica Reyes?" she asked.

"Agent Reyes?" Phoebe asked, flipping the business card through her fingers. The family lawyer had gotten them in case he needed to report any more lawsuits. "I need to speak to Agent Doggett."

"Sure." Monica handed it to him. John pushed it to his ear and didn't need to say hello.

"Agent Doggett?" she asked, knowing he was there. "I need you to tell me everything about Harvey Lloyd."

"This really isn't a good ti..."

"I know, I know. It's never a good time for psycho, little Phoebe. But I need to know who his parents were."


"Fine. Don't worry. But I think I figured out why that thing has Luke. And why Luke needs to stay away from steak knives."

"What about him?" The Agent asked, feeling that anger develop that always did when Luke was brought into the conversation. Phoebe exhaled deeply. And there was suddenly a cry in the background.

"Sorry, look. Problems here. Forget I said anything."

"Phoebe..." He was about to tell her to wait, but the other line clicked. He put the phone aside, just as it rang again.

"John Doggett." He answered it quickly. There was heavy breathing.


He looked shocked, at Monica who stood up.

"I need your help."

"Luke?" he asked.

"I need you to kill her.

John's eyes moved back to Monica, who was bleeding again.


"Kill her Daddy. Otherwise I can't see you ever again."

Chapter 10: The Taste of Tears

Almost done. That's all I'm saying.

"Could I hold you for a lifetime? Could I look into your eyes? Could I have this night to share this night forever? Could I hold you close beside me? Could I hold you for all time? Could I, could I have this kiss forever?"

~Whitney Houston feat. Enrique Iglesius, Could I have this kiss forever?

Chapter 10: The Taste of Tears

He could smell the blood. He had grown so accustomed to it, he could smell it all over his hands and fingers. The sound of her heart beating. The way she laughed. All just a memory as he stood there in the motel room and stared endlessly at her. His flesh and blood, the spirit of his happiness that had been murdered with Luke was asking him and willing him to massacre the woman he loved. The woman he took a knife for. The woman he would stand at the gates of Hell for. And he was being asked to kill her. To take her life without remorse.

Angrily, John Doggett refused with every fibre of his being.

He took the phone from his ear, the sobbing sounds of his son gripping him, making his break. So that was the plan. They would take the most important thing from him and make him destroy the other. That hiss that had run through him in the kitchen caused him to do this. Finally, after an eternity, he removed the phone from his ear and pressed End.

The hiss was breathing down his neck. If Phoebe had been there, her eyes would be burning violently with that blue flame that tortured him silently. Monica looked at him with concern as the icy waves of breath rolled down his back.

Do it John! Or I'll hurt your son.

It was killing John. It was hurting him, destroying him. So this is what death feels like? He asked himself, not receiving an answer.

"Monica," he said quietly as she stood up. The Agent was trembling almost. A cold shiver rolled down their spines as the room froze over like a snow storm. Their breath came out in white puffs.

"What's happening?" Monica asked, looking around as she rubbed her arms to keep warm. John shook his head.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the door. His hand burned on the knobs from how cold it was. "Damn it!"

Monica took out her weapon and fired three rounds into the door near the knob. She kicked the door open and the two emerged into the afternoon air, warmed and completely free. It billowed around them as the door closed.

"John what's going on?" she asked him as they got into the car. John reversed quickly and put the car into Drive.

"We have to go back to where this all started. And we have to finish it."

Monica didn't have a response. She placed a hand on John's shoulder and let him drive.

There was blood. All over the floor there was blood. And it was moving. As the puddle grew bigger someone was dying. The puddle spread across the floor.

She searched for the cause, but she knew the answer. It was lucid in the dream, keeping her in full knowledge of the events. There would be a gunshot. And there would be blood. And then there would be silence. And the frozen feeling would creep away from her dying insides.

Phoebe snapped awake from her dream as the car came to a halt outside the apartment. She hadn't expected falling asleep. The drive was short, but it gave her plenty of time to catch up on ten seconds of Z's as the guys got out and walked to the door. Phoebe followed, knowing they had protested against her coming. They had said it was too dangerous. They had said she was crazy. But who didn't mention those things to her in this day and age? Well there was her parents, who's philosophy was that their daughter should be institutionalized. Phoebe had openly told them to screw off that morning.

"We all ready?" Joe asked. Brian nodded and so did Phoebe.

"Let's chase." She announced, walking in the front, without waiting for the other two to protect her. When the time came, they wouldn't be able to anyways.

John walked to the door of the apartment, feeling some form of emptiness wash over him. He felt like he was at the gates of Hell, and that inside the apartment the Devil was waiting for him. Monica stood protectively at his side, gun in hand.

"I can't believe this." She murmured.

"Better start."

"I know. But this is just too insane." She replied. John nodded.

"Yep. But I guess that's why we're here," he said, getting a small smile. He reached for the door handle.

"What are you doing here?" Phoebe asked, coming up the stairs with camera in hand and Joe and Brian following. "I thought you were leaving?"

"I have to get my son back," John said, opening the door and finding nothing there. The house was empty, as he expected. "Although, your help could be nice."

"Sounds good to me." Joe said, walking in with Brian on his heels. Monica stepped inside the apartment as Phoebe held out her camera.

"Just shoot. And don't think," she said, stepping over the tape and into the house. Phoebe walked past Monica and said nothing more.

The door slammed behind him as he walked inside. John turned quickly, the door locking intricately with clicks and sounds that faded off into nowhere. He looked at Monica, who had fear written all over her face, as the sounds of movement interrupted them.

"Got a live one!" Joe shouted from the kitchen, as the cupboards opened and plates and dishes fell to the floor. Brian narrowly missed having shard of porcelain impale his face, as Phoebe dashed to the kitchen. The living room had other plans for her, as the rug pulled itself from under her and threw her to the floor.

"Whatever happens..." John said quietly, a sense of urgency in his voice. Monica watched him as he kissed her again and pulled back. "I want you to know that I love you."

"I'm not saying goodbye." She replied surely. There was the sound of growling and something hitting the floor heavily. John kissed her again before they started walking down the hall.

"You might have too." He warned. Monica shook her head no as they walked to the living room. She wouldn't say goodbye again. Never again.

The picture in the hall shattered as John stepped past it, the pieces hitting Monica and thrusting themselves into her skin. Doggett turned and threw the frame to the floor, hugging Monica slowly as she clenched her eyes at the stings of glass. John held her tightly.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." She murmured.

"I'm beginning to think you're right." Blood moved over his fingers and hit the floor. The house creaked and he looked around, seeing the hallway floor boards splinter and crack as the hall compressed itself on the two. They ran, turning into the living room, as the hall groaned and came back to normal size.

But things weren't much better.

Phoebe was in a corner, watching it with fascination even though a thin strip of blood was falling from her lip. Blue was dancing across her eyes as she looked at the two Agents.

"Agent Doggett!" She called, getting his attention as she tossed the bracelet to him. The second it landed on the floor the action in the living room stopped. John picked it up, the couch immediately throwing itself into a wall. Phoebe stood up, setting her camera to the floor and stepped into the living room, daring the couch to hit her.

"Just shoot." She murmured, her voice amplifying the memory in Doggett's brain. He took out his weapon, aiming it at the couch. Phoebe closed her eyes, drawing closer.

Monica felt something grab her around the waist and throw her to the floor, pushing her back into the living room.

"Monica!" John shouted, preparing to shoot at her. Phoebe looked from the couch to him. The couch dropped suddenly, and the black form moved to the spirit of Harvey, who was holding Monica still. Phoebe rushed forward, grabbing Harvey by the throat and crushing ghostly cockroaches out of him. Monica rolled over, retreating to Doggett as the black form swooped up on her and made a stab at her with his giant claw.

"Reyes duck!" Phoebe screamed, watching her drop to the floor. Phoebe ran forward and John shot. He shot blindly and for a split second, the black demon actually appeared in front of his eyes. Black blood splattered and Harvey disappeared, as the Demon tumbled to the floor in a flood of black and red.

"Just shoot." He mumbled to himself.

John opened his eyes. Monica stood up. And blood moved across the floor.

Phoebe got up, wincing as she gripped her side. A solitary tear slid down her cheek and more of her blood tumbled to the floor. Nobody moved. Phoebe could hear her heart beating in her ears, ringing her and begging her to come home.

"It's over," she said, staring at the black demon writhing on the ground. Her eyes were fading, the blue tumbling backwards into mists of green. She stared at the floor as Joe and Brian came from the kitchen, seeing their friend staggering and breathing rapidly. Phoebe grabbed a wall with her bloodied hand, a red hand print appearing on the white paint on the walls. She stared at the form.

"Phoebe." Brian said, rushing to her. John said nothing, the gun in his hands idle. Monica looked at the two boys as Phoebe sank to the floor. Brian pressed his palm to it, watching her mouth move.

"You know, in a lot of ways..." She began, breathing heavily. "I was never alive to begin with."

John looked away as Phoebe's eyes closed for the last time.

Last chapter is coming up next! Now Review!

Chapter 11: The End, I Suppose

Awww...thanks Gothic. But I hardly call this a masterpiece. It's confusing. I should repost...lol. Nah. Here's the final instalment of Flesh Belonging. Thanks so much to all my reviewers! I Love you ALL!

As for future stories? I will post that at the bottom so read onward!

"You can try to resist, try to hide from my kiss, but you know, but you know that you, can't fight the moonlight. Deep in the dark you'll surrender your heart, but you know, but you know that you can't fight the moonlight. No. You can't fight it. It's gonna get to your heart."

~Leanne Rimes, Can't Fight the Moonlight

Chapter 11: The End, I Suppose

It was cold at the hospital. John was just happy he wasn't in handcuffs. Phoebe, with some fast talking had dropped all charges against the Agents, and held herself responsible for the shot in her side. Considering he could be behind bars for murder with no one except Monica to vouch for him against the Nameth's ridiculous law suits, he was thinking he was pretty damn lucky.

Phoebe was smiling as he walked into her room. She set her copy of Requiem for a Dream on the night table and smiled softly at him.

"How you doing?" he asked her. She laughed a little.

"It's a flesh wound, believe me." Phoebe assured him. John shook his head.

"Now I know why no one believes me when I say that." He stated. Phoebe gave a small laughed. "You were pretty gone. Doctors are saying they lost you on the table."

"Twice, if you talk to the nurses." She added, leaning back on the pillows with a wince. "Believe me, I'll be up and walking around in no time." Phoebe almost said that like a promise. John didn't say anything. "Luke says you don't have a job to get back to."

"Perceptive, isn't he?" John asked with a smirk. Phoebe laughed lightly, wincing again.

"A little too perceptive, I think."

"He's right. That little episode with your parents caused a pretty big stir." Phoebe nodded, sighing deeply. "What do I care. I never liked my job in that department anyways."

"Yeah you did." Phoebe responded. "You found her again." John looked up at her. "Perceptive little brat aren't I?"

"A little too perceptive, I think." He mocked her a little. Phoebe grinned again, for the first time since she had met Doggett. And it looked real too.

"There's just one thing I don't get." John mentioned. "The bracelet." Phoebe nodded. "How does that fit in?"

"I got it as a birthday gift from my father, custom made from the bullets in Inspector Abberline's weapon." She turned her head to him. John tilted his head. "That's how I fit into the story. The three key elements. Walter, Mary, and Abberline...me. Why do you think I couldn't die by your hand?"

"So you're alive because I can't kill you?"

"You'll never be rid of me. I'll keep showing up and showing up until the end of time in your life." John gave a small grin. "So will she." There was an odd silence that followed that statement. Phoebe exhaled loudly.

"You love her?" she asked.

"I don't think this is your type of conversation. Not until I'm dead anyways." Phoebe grinned again.

"No. If you die before her, you'll be with her. And vise-versa." She seemed so sure. "It's where the term 'the dead never really die' comes from. You'll be stuck here, waiting for her."

"And if we die together?" He hated to ask. Phoebe closed her eyes wearily and opened them again, staring at him vividly.

"You'll be together forever, I suppose." She answered weakly. Doggett nodded, looking away. Phoebe stared through him, seeing him looking at the door.

"Take care of him." He turned back, surprising Phoebe a little. The teenager smiled.

"Am I going to get paid for babysitting?"

"That's not funny."

"I'm serious!"

Doggett shook his head. Phoebe laughed silently.

"Yeah. Sure. It'll be fun. Just in time for my Parenting Course." Phoebe elaborated. "I'm going back to school after Christmas Break. Part of my parent's and my new compromise."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah, I guess." She mumbled softly. "I get to hang out with Brian and Joe still. We get a bigger apartment. But I have to go to school and eat dinner with them."

"Sounds like you've got everything worked out."

"No. Nobody can be that in control."

"Yeah. Nobody. Not even anal FBI Agents who put on handcuffs too tight." Doggett laughed again. Phoebe smiled warmly, folding her arms over her waist. "Have a good life Agent Doggett."

"Thank you," he said, getting a smile from Phoebe again.

"First time anyone ever did. You're welcome." John stood up, walking out of the room. Luke looked at Phoebe from the foot of the bed where he was sitting. Her green eyes flickered blue again.

"Think he's happy?" he asked hopefully, coming closer to Phoebe and curling next to her like a cat. Phoebe nodded.

"He'll be fine." She assured him. "He'll be just fine."

"I brought by my letter of resignation as you requested Deputy Director," John said, setting the papers on Kersh's desk. The man pursed his lips in anger, looking at the two Agents in front of him. "Can you make this quick?" Doggett asked impatiently. "I have a 12 o'clock interview at McDonald's."

Monica resisted laughing at that one.

"Well, it seems you have this whole thing worked out, don't you John." The Deputy Director said, looking at the papers from both John and Monica. The two looked at one another and then back to their employer. "I just want to know, in full detail, what you two think you were..."

He never got to finish. The door opened and his secretary interrupted.

"Sir, I know you're in a meeting, but there's a call..."

"Hold it."

"I would but the Nameth's lawyer has threatened to sue me if I do." Kersh rolled his eyes, picking up his phone and pressed for the line.

"Hello Mr. Co..." He didn't finish that. The voice on the phone was so loud he had to pull the phone from his ear. John watched as the Deputy Director tried to slide in two words, but never got the chance to before there was a click on the other line. Regaining composure, their superior set the phone back down on the cradle.

"You two seem to have a guardian angel." He commented. "Since the Nameth girl put up such a fuss that the lawyer will sue me for false pretences and keep me in prison for fifty years." Monica's eyes widened and she and John stifled a laugh.

"So get out of my office and don't expect that you will get a reprieve next time."

They didn't. John and Monica practically skipped out of the office.

Joe set down the phone and rose slowly. Phoebe watched form the couch, Brian sitting on the coffee table intently waiting for what Joe had to say. After hearing him shout at the Deputy Director's secretary and the Deputy Director himself, they were practically pissing themselves.

"We did it!" he said loudly, turning quickly and grinning from ear to ear. Phoebe gave a small laugh from the couch, gripping at her bullet wound gingerly and Brian and Joe shouted carelessly. The two came back to the couch, sitting down next to her and stared at the TV, where a muted Due South was playing.

"You watch this too much." Joe commented.

"You're in my way!" she said loudly, trying to push them away.

"Aww, but we love you Phoebe!" Joe said, curling on her right side. Phoebe laughed as Brian curled up on her left. Tight fit for the three.

"This isn't going to get kinky is it?" she asked, as the two curled tighter. Neither replied as their breathing deepened and they clocked out. Phoebe smiled, relaxing as the throb of her wound ebbed. "Night guys."

"So is it over?" Monica asked, running her fingers through John's hair as her lay on her chest, running his fingers over her bare waist. Her partner nodded and she gave a relieved sigh as she stared off into the dark ceilings of her apartment. "I'm happy."

"Same here," he said. His partner smiled.

"Would you have done it?" she asked, making John turn over as he looked at her. "Killed me."

"We've been through this Monica."

"No, I mean if Phoebe and I had switched places. Would you have pulled the trigger?" John didn't have an answer. Monica wasn't expecting one.

"No. I don't think I could have brought myself to it."

Monica smiled softly, her eyelids drifting closed. She leaned up on her elbows as John kissed her, laying back on her bed with her. Monica opened her eyes for a moment.

"Neither would I," she said quietly. "In that same position."

"I promised you...over and over."

"Will you keep that promise?"



"Just kiss me." She grinned and laughed a little.

"Pushy, much?" John rolled his eyes. Monica kissed him again, moving hands down his waist on over his shirt. Something rough moved under her hand and she pulled it from John's pocket.

"Oh great," John said, taking the charm bracelet from her. "I am going to kill that kid."

"Well, considering we kept our jobs, I'd say this thing is pretty good luck." John looked at the bracelet, the Japanese symbols shimmering in the moonlight coming in from the window. He looked at Monica.

"I got you in bed. I'd say this thing is working miracles." Monica laughed again.

He set the bracelet aside and kissed her over and over. The bracelet shimmered on the table by the bed, watching them as the Never Ending charm broke off.

The story had changed. And somewhere in the darkness of oblivion, a black demon disappeared.

The End

Well, they yah have it folks! The final instalment of Flesh Belonging! I'm so proud of it (hugs her story tightly). Too confusing. Must stop writing stories as I go along. Lol.

Want a preview of what's next? Hmm... For Beguile (me!) that would be The Genesis Breed, which will have more Mulder and Scully in it.

Please stop by here to offer the author feedback https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1569649/1/

Return to Bump In The Night