Monday morning, John Doggett sat in Assistant Director Skinner's office. His face was tired from 
lack of sleep, but also with dread. He was anxious about telling Skinner what had happened to 
Monica, for fear of compromising her privacy. Still, it had to be done.

Skinner noticed that John was not wearing his usual suit and tie, but faded jeans and a plain gray 
t-shirt.

"You wanted to see me, Agent Doggett?" A.D. Skinner said, sitting down at his desk.

"Yes, Sir. I need to request a leave of absence, for both Agent Reyes and myself."

Skinner folded his hands together. "Alright...but may I ask why both of you need a leave?"

John swallowed hard and sighed. "Monica was...attacked on Friday night." he began.

Skinner's eyes narrowed. "Attacked?"

John nodded. "She was raped, Sir."

Shock burst over the A.D.'s expression. "My God. Is she alright?"

John shrugged. "As well as can be expected. She's staying with me."

Skinner reflected on this for a moment. "Do they know who did this?"

John shook his head, no. "They've got nothing so far. There wasn't much left in the way of 
evidence."

Skinner nodded, his face still showing shock. "I can't believe this. I feel...terrible for her."

"You're not the only one."

Skinner nodded in acknowledgement when he saw John's expression. "I'd like the FBI to be involved 
in this case, John."

John looked up, but didn't seem surprised by the A.D.'s suggestion. "Monica may not be comfortable 
with that."

"We can be discreet."

"I don't think she would want anyone to know about this...especially Deputy Director Kersh, and 
A.D. Follmer."

Skinner took this into consideration. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try and keep them out of 
this as long as I can. It's nothing against the local P.D...I just think that we can't afford to 
take the bureau's resources for granted...for Agent Reyes' sake."

John nodded in agreement. "I want to know everything that you find."

"Of course." Skinner said. "And I'll make this my first priority, Agent Doggett."

"Thank you, Sir." John said, and then got up from his chair, and began walking to the door.

"Agent Doggett?"

John turned.

"Take care of her."

John nodded slowly, and then left the office.

The drive home was a much-needed break for John. He hadn't slept much in the last few days, and 
all of his efforts were concentrated on Monica. He'd barely had a moment to take a shower.

Of course, he wouldn't have had it any other way. He needed to help her. To think of doing 
anything else was impossible.

He hadn't been gone long, but he worried that she would feel uneasy about being alone in his 
house, even though he'd personally locked every door himself, and it was a bright Monday morning. She 
had insisted that he go alone, that he could use a break from her. She told him she was going to 
soak in the bath for a while, and try to read. Something to take her mind off of 'things'.

She was being so brave. She'd had her ups and downs over the past seventy-two hours, going from 
soft smiles to silent crying in the bathroom.

But he was waiting for the big one.

She would be hysterical. She would cry and scream and feel like the pain was going to destroy her. 
Her vocal chords wouldn't be able to express the anguish she would feel. She would collapse to the 
floor, and she would feel like giving up.

But she wouldn't give up.

And then, the healing could begin.

He knew all about despair. The weeks after his son's death, it was all he'd known. But he'd gotten 
through it, and he knew that Monica would too.

He pulled in front of his house, and quickly went inside. He announced his presence as he walked 
through the door. Monica heard him, and walked down the stairs slowly. Her hair was wet from her 
bath, and she was dressed in sweatpants and one of John's USMC t-shirts. He noticed her tear-stained 
cheeks immediately.

"Hi..." she said to him. She stopped just in front of him. She had been crying again, but he was 
used to that by now.

"Monica...what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's so stupid."

He lifted her chin up to meet her eyes. "What?"

She sniffed. "The UPS man came to deliver a package to you. I saw him out of the window. He rang 
the doorbell, and I..." she shook her head. "I couldn't open the door. I was too afraid."

She bowed her head. It was hard for her to be like this...so weak. He opened his arms out to her, 
and she didn't hesitate. She needed the hug.

He held her tightly and smoothed her hair back. "It's no big deal, Monica. It's natural to feel 
that way."

"Am I always going to be like this, John?"

"'Course not."

She sighed, feeling better now that he was home. "What did Skinner say?" she asked. She hadn't 
wanted John to tell anyone about her...situation, but seeing as though it was Monday morning and they 
were not at their desks, Monica knew that they owed their superior an explanation. She also knew 
that she would need some time off work. And so did John, for the time being.

"It upset him a lot, I think. He wants the bureau involved in your case."

Monica pulled away from John. "What? I thought we were going to keep this between us and Skinner 
only?"

John looked at her. This was the reaction he had hoped not to get. "He's going to try and keep 
it...discreet. But Monica...we can't just NOT take advantage of the bureau's resources. That would be 
insane. I'm sorry." John said, feeling that maybe he had not done the right thing in telling 
Skinner.

Monica turned away. "He'll have to tell Kersh and Follmer...Jesus, John...the whole damn bureau's 
going to know about this." Monica hung her head in shame, even though she knew there was nothing 
that *she* had to be ashamed of. She also knew that letting the FBI take over her case was the best 
thing that she could do to catch the man who had done this to her. She sighed as John put his 
hands on her shoulders and began massaging them.

"It's going to be alright, okay?" John said to her. It was all he could say. He couldn't guarantee 
that Kersh and Follmer wouldn't know about this, nor could he say that a half a dozen people in 
the bureau that would be investigating the crime wouldn't know who she was and what had happened to 
her. But what could he do about it? Was he supposed to stand idly by and wait for the local PD to 
find this guy?

***

"He came in through the window. I heard it break."

The woman, who's nametag said 'Rachel', sobbed as she spoke to the group. She took a moment before 
she went on. Monica sat across from her and listened.

"I was too afraid to get out of my bed...I just laid there...hoping he'd take what he wanted and 
leave. But he came into my room. He held me down. He had a knife."

Rachel put her hand over her mouth and cried. "I thought it would never end. It must have been 
thirty minutes. I couldn't even feel the lower part of my body anymore. Finally, when he was done, he 
left. I called the police." She paused as she tried to contain her tears again, but failed. "He 
gave me hepatitis."

Monica closed her eyes and sighed.

The leader of the group, a lovely blonde woman named Sara, spoke gently to Rachel:

"That must be very hard for you, Rachel. Having to cope with the attack as well as a disease. But 
know that we will be here for you, whenever you need us."

Rachel nodded gratefully and wiped her eyes. Then, she looked over at Monica. "Wanna tell your 
story, Monica?"

Monica straightened, and looked around at the group.

"This is only her first group." Sara said, and then looked at Monica. "You don't have to, if you 
don't want to. Most people just watch and listen for a few sessions. That's fine."

Monica shook her head. "That's okay. I'll...I'll share." Monica said, and swallowed as she looked 
around at the waiting group members. She told herself that they had heard it all before, and that 
nothing she could say would be new to them. She looked down.

"I was sleeping. A sound woke me I guess. I just...opened my eyes, and there he was. He pointed a 
gun at my head. It was my gun."

They all listened intently.

"I'm a Special Agent with the FBI, that's why I have a gun. But that night, I didn't put it away. 
Since I'd moved to D.C., I haven't been putting it away at all. And he got it. He raped me at 
gunpoint."

No one said a word for a moment, until Sara spoke up. "You're angry with yourself, aren't you?"

Monica looked up. "With myself?"

Sara nodded. "You feel that...you should have been able to stop him, because your an FBI agent? 
You feel like it was almost your fault that you were raped because you think you should have been 
able to stop him."

Monica thought on this for a moment. "Well...yes...I should have been able to stop him."

"But he had a gun." said one woman from the group.

"...and you were sleeping. You weren't prepared." said another.

"It wasn't your fault, Monica."

Monica looked around at the faces that stared at her. Sara smiled at her. "You can't blame 
yourself, Monica. And just because this happened to you doesn't mean that you're any less than you were 
before."

Tears came to Monica's eyes, and she knew that she had not made a mistake coming here.

***

Two weeks later, things were pretty much the same for Monica. She still had trouble sleeping, and 
every night she would come to John's bedroom. And every night he would let her crawl in next to 
him, and they never spoke of it.

The investigation hadn't turned up much. There just weren't any clues left behind at the scene. 
John and Skinner both had a hard time believing that they might not ever catch this man, but still 
they refused to give up. Skinner made phone calls and reviewed information every day, hoping for 
some kind of break.

John returned to work, staying only a few hours each morning. Cases were slow anyway, and there 
wasn't much else that John could think of besides Monica and her state of affairs. Most of the time 
he spent in the office was reviewing her case. So far, Skinner and Doggett had been able to keep 
Kersh and Follmer from finding out about the rape.

Monica had felt better once the second week winded down. She started to go outside again, taking 
short walks. She had thought about calling her mother many times since the incident, but decided 
against it. Her mother would take it hard, and insist that she come up to Virginia to see her, and 
Monica didn't want that. Not because she didn't want to see her mother, but because she didn't want 
her mother to be troubled about her. She was such a worrier anyway.

Emotionally, Monica was improving. She cried less, and started eating more. The nightmare still 
came, almost every night in fact, but they had lessened in intensity. When she woke up from one of 
these dreams, she found that she could simply just go back to sleep, most of the time. When she 
couldn't, she'd lie awake and watch John.

She thought about her relationship with him a lot during those times, when she would watch him 
sleep. She imagined that she was in his bed because she was his wife, because he was her husband. 
This made her smile. She fantasized that this was her home that she shared with John, and that just 
down the hall, one or two children lay sleeping in their beds. A boy and a girl, perhaps. The boy 
would have John's eyes and a few missing baby teeth; the girl would have Monica's sleek, dark hair 
and good complexion. They would go places on some warm Saturday, strapped in their mini-van, and 
when the kids got out of control, Mom would threaten to turn the car around if they didn't stop it 
right now, and boy would they get it when their father got home.

When Monica imagined the man she would hopefully marry someday, she always compared her fantasy 
man to John Doggett. John was caring, honest and trustworthy. He had never talked down to Monica, 
even when it was clear that he thought her ways of thinking were ludicrous. He had always been there 
for her, when she needed help on a case and when she just needed to have a quiet drink with a 
friend. He was obsessed with justice, obsessed with always doing the right thing, even if it meant 
going out of his way. And, though it was somewhat shallow, she never could ignore his masculine good 
looks, his well-trimmed body, or his strong, but sexy voice.

And those blue eyes.

She knew that he must have been a good husband and father, even though she'd never really 
witnessed it herself. She did know that he had loved his son more than anything else in the world. She had 
never asked John about his separation from his wife, but she knew that they had divorced six 
months after Luke's death. Statistically, Monica knew that a lot of marriages go bad when the death of 
a child occurs, especially when it's an only child, and that fact made her believe that losing 
Luke was probably the reason for their divorce. Maybe someday he would tell her about it.

She compared every man she met to John, and found each and every one of them severely lacking. 
Only one man possessed all of the qualities that John Doggett possessed, and that was John Doggett. 
That was when she realized that she was in love with him, and she had spent many nights trying to 
figure out a way to tell him.

Of course, she'd never gotten the courage, and now a relationship with him seemed so far away. But 
she would never give up hope.

***

Before the receptionist could stop him, Assistant Director Follmer burst into Skinner's office.

"Just when the hell did you plan on telling me about this?" Follmer demanded. He tossed a file 
onto Skinner's desk, and the A.D. looked up at him. Skinner recognized the file; it was the file on 
Monica's rape. He didn't open it.

Skinner took off his glasses and laid them on the desktop. "They didn't want you to know about it, 
Assistant Director. That is why you weren't told about it."

Brad Follmer squinted. "They?"

Skinner cleared his throat. "Agent Reyes and Agent Doggett."

Follmer glared at the mention of John's name. His jealousy of the man was no secret to anyone. 
"What's Doggett got to do with this?"

Skinner cocked his head to the side. "Doggett's been...caring for Reyes since the incident two 
weeks ago. She's been staying with him."

Follmer clenched his jaw and nodded. There wasn't much he could say about it.

"I have asked you, Assistant Director, to keep me informed of all cases investigated by the unit. 
Do you recall?"

Skinner shook his head and looked annoyed. "This isn't an X-File, Follmer. This is a rape case."

"I'm well aware of that, Assistant Director, but this involves one of our agents and you are using 
our bureau's resources to solve this case."

Skinner glared. "Would you rather we let the local P.D. handle it? And risk letting Reyes' 
attacker go free?"

Follmer shook his head. "Of course not, but-"

"Why don't you just admit that you're pissed off because you weren't the one she called for help?"

"What?" Follmer demanded.

Skinner stood up. "I'm well aware of your history with Agent Reyes, and your resentment for John 
Doggett, and so is Agent Reyes, which is precisely why you were not told about this."

The two men stared at each other.

"That is ludicrous and irrelevant. I have nothing against Agent Doggett. But I do care for Agent 
Reyes and I am offended that you have not involved me in this case."

Skinner sighed. He knew that Follmer would never openly admit his bitterness towards Doggett, but 
it didn't matter. He had to involve him now that he knew.

"Fine," Skinner said, "but Reyes would prefer to keep Deputy Director Kersh out of this...can you 
handle that?"

Follmer glared but nodded reluctantly.

"Good." Skinner said. "You and I can start going over our findings tomorrow."

***

When Monica awoke at eight o'clock in the morning, John was gone.

He left a note, saying that he'd be back around noon with lunch. Monica sighed and got out of bed. 
She'd been having the dreams again, always the same every night. Sometimes they weren't bad, other 
times they were especially vivid, and she would wake up with tense muscles, and tears in her eyes.

By the time she'd showered and made herself a cup of tea, she'd shaken off the nightmare. Though 
it was always there, in the back of her mind, she found it easier and easier each day. She had 
decided that she would go back to work as soon as the cut on her face was completely healed. That was 
the best way to avoid unwanted questions.

The phone rang about nine, and it was John on the other end. They spoke for a few minutes, and 
John asked her how she had slept. When she told him it was 'the usual', he sighed and asked her if 
she'd like to catch a movie later. She replied that she would. As soon as Monica hung up the phone, 
the doorbell rang.

Monica froze, but forced herself to go to the door and see who was there. She looked out the side 
window, and was surprised to see Brad Follmer on the doorstep. She sighed heavily and opened the 
door.

"Monica." Brad said with a smile.

"Brad." Monica returned, faking a smile.

Follmer searched her eyes for a moment, and then said:

"I just dropped by to...see how you were doing."

Inwardly, Monica just wanted to shut the door in his face, but rudeness wasn't one of her better 
traits.

"Come in, Brad."

Follmer stepped through the open door of John's home, and looked around. He looked as though he 
could comment on the house, since it was a pretty nice place, but he didn't. He turned around to 
face Monica, but didn't say anything to her. It was the first time she'd seen Brad Follmer a loss for 
words.

"I'm okay, Brad." Monica said, rolling her eyes.

Follmer bit his lip. "I...I just heard last night. I couldn't sleep. I thought about it all 
night."

"I'm really okay. I'm...dealing with it."

The pair went silent for a moment, until Follmer quietly asked:

"Why didn't you call me, Monica?"

Monica looked downward. Why? Why does he have to do this, she thought. She sighed heavily and 
cursed herself for opening that door.

"Because...because you're not...a part of my life anymore, Brad."

He looked hurt, and she somewhat regretted what she had said. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, and looked back up at her. "I care about you. I just...want to help you, that's 
all."

She smiled. "I appreciate that, Brad. But I've got...support here. He's taking good care of me." 
she said gently.

Follmer looked saddened. "I'm glad to know that."

"You don't have to worry, okay?"

He nodded. They regarded each other for a short while.

"Well...I guess I'll...get back to the office. But if you need anything...anything at all...just 
call me." He said. She smiled at him, and told him 'thanks'. She saw him to the door, and he 
stepped out onto the porch. Before he walked away, he turned around and looked as though he may say 
something to her. But he didn't. He smiled weakly and walked to his car.

Monica closed the door gently behind her as she went back into the house. Later, when John came 
home, she didn't tell him about her visitor.

***