Title: Retrospect Author: RPcrazy [holosweet@yahoo.com.au] Category: DRR, romance, casefile Rating: NC-17 sexual situations, graphic violence. Summary: Doggett and Reyes follow a case based on recurrent nightmares of an eighteen-year-old girl. The case hits closer to home when Doggett begins lucidly dreaming his own thriller involving love, lust and infidelity. Are the two situations connected in some way? Chapter One Agent John Doggett had an uneasy feeling about the whole meeting. In his office were two people he'd never met before until that morning, telling him a wild story at which he didn't know whether to inwardly snigger or feel serious. Since joining the X- Files and especially since his partnership with Agent Monica Reyes he had learnt to approach each case with his usual scepticism to tease out the facts but then use his newly gleaned flexible skills to make small leaps that would usually turn out to be either be right or partially correct. Taking some personal leave, Monica had been unavailable for the past few days, so he had the X-files office to himself unless something `unexpected' turned up at which he could make the judgement whether or not to call her in. She said she'd wanted to pursue a short course in `Our Inner Psyche'. John recalled himself smirking at the thought of her having asked him along to something he would probably find boring but then went thoughtful remembering the sad look she'd had on her face the last time he had seen her. "John, the X-files can do without us for a week," she had given him one of those gentle touches and that pleading look of hers that usually had him caving in. "It's beautiful up there this time of year and we can get to know each other more as friends." The offer had been more than tempting, John had wanted just that, there were many times he had wanted to become closer to his partner, but it wasn't the right timing. If he went away on a social week with his partner tongues would surely wag. He had lost a few friends by taking on the unwanted basement office job he didn't want to lose more to false speculation. It had taken him a while of mulling over the consequences in his head and finally coming out with, "See you next week." In retrospect that had been quite harsh of him but he knew Monica, if there were any room for persuasion she would take it. At times he needed to be brutal to be kind. He just hoped she'd understand in time. "My sister wouldn't lie to you Agent Doggett." The young man before him snapped him back to reality. "I'm sure she wouldn't Mr. Carpenter." John leant back on his chair a little. "Please call me Ray." John nodded, keeping his straight face. "Ray," John turned his attention to the man's younger sister who must have been all of eighteen years if that. "So let me get this straight. You have been having these recurring nightmares where you see a man at the top of some stairs, he violently gets his throat cut by an unknown assailant and, clutching his neck, he falls down the stairs into the basement of a house." "Yes, and then I...," she stammered, clearly finding the repetition of her story quite disturbing. "I creep down the stairs after him and with my flashlight I comb the dark basement and then I see him." She choked, not able to say more. "Then in her nightmare Leanne sees the man on the ground clearly dead with blood all around him," her brother continued on her behalf. "So you think this is more than just a dream? This really happened? People can have vivid dreams and it can still come from their imaginations." John assured. "I know there is more to this!" she snapped frustration. "Leanne has been to a dream analyst who suggested to go to the police." Ray answered again on behalf of his sister. "The police wouldn't do anything until we had some evidence that these nightmares were based in reality." With beseeching stance he sat forward in his chair. "Agent Doggett, you and the x-files are our last hope that my sister can get some peace." John nodded and stood. "Alright, I'll see what I can do." John didn't hold much hope of solving this but his time in the basement office had shown him that anything was possible. "You said that you see the dead man's face?" Leanne Carpenter nodded. "Then we'll need to get a composite and we'll work from there." "Thank you so much Agent Doggett." Actively Ray shook his hand and then exited with his sister. John turned back towards his desk, sighed and shook his head, "What have I got myself into?" He rolled his eyes and went to record the present facts onto his computer. ......... Chapter Two John's eyes fluttered open to see his room still dark and the night somehow sharing an eerie calmness. He had been sweating from the excess heat so wearily and shakily he got up to turn down his central heating thermostat. After reducing the temperature by six degrees he swallowed, feeling his parched throat. Without flicking on a light switch he padded down the stairs to the shadowy kitchen and went to retrieve some bottled water. As the light from the open refrigerator door caught his eyes his world transformed before him. Was he dreaming? He had clearly got out of bed and come downstairs. He remembered that quite clearly and yet he was suddenly in an unknown place. His fingers felt over his face then he looked to his hands and turned them one way and another. Rotating in a slow circle, under him he felt his bare feet slip over some plush soft floor covering instead of the cool linoleum tiles of his kitchen. "What the hell?!" John whispered to himself. His thoughts immediately returned to the case involving Anthony Tipet and how that mad man had somehow got into his consciousness and made his dreams seem real. Tipet was dead and so John thought his nightmares would also be gone. Was this some kind of residual effect from that experience? That thought had plagued him from time to time. Nerves began to get the better of him as he turned in a circle to take in more of his changed surroundings. He was in what looked like a vast mansion. Around him was opulence. Gold, burgundy, lavish furnishings, expensive paintings, antique furniture and there were rooms that seemed to go endlessly both to his left and right. Before him was a flight of stairs that led to a landing and to another flight that swept up to the second level. Right before him on the landing was a large stained glass window with blues, rich reds, yellows, greens and gold showing some sort of biblical scene. At the base in a scroll were some words that John made out to be Latin. "Meum pactum dictum." Committing the phrase to memory he spoke slowly and softly in case anyone should hear. He wanted to make more sense of where he was before having to confront anyone. Walking to the right, his bare feet slid along the carpet and into another vast room. It looked like the library with three walls of books of all shapes, kinds and ages on shelves reaching up to the lofty ceiling. There was an enormous desk in the center of the room with an antique lamp that illuminated the rich red, gold outlined leather inlay. Scatterings of book and files lay strewn on part of its surface. There was no sign of modern day living or technology but to John that didn't mean signs wouldn't be found elsewhere in the manor. Further to his right were at least three more large chambers and to his left a similar number. This was more that just a mansion it seemed like a castle. "Steven, is that you?" A faint voice called from upstairs. Immediately John felt a pulling and spinning sensation and when he came back to his senses he was suddenly in another room. It was a bathroom but not his own. Pink marble and gold were everywhere. There was a massive spa bath with gold fittings and a two-person shower recess. The gold towel racks displayed many soft peach coloured towels giving the room a snug feeling of comfort. Looking up to the high ceiling he saw a trompe l'oeil blue sky with scattered white fluffy clouds and hidden lighting that suggested sunshine. The whole room would have been double the size of his bedroom. "What's taking you so long?" There was the woman's voice again and this time from the next room. What could he do? He was in someone's residence not knowing how he got there or how he would leave unnoticed. Coolness crossed his chest making him look down. Whereas before he was in T-shirt and boxers, he was suddenly bare-chested with a towel around his waist, seemingly just having taken a shower of which he had no recollection. Looking in the gold-framed mirror he saw himself, that same look of disbelief written all over him. It could not be real and yet it was. He was seeing it all with his own eyes. ...... "I'm waiting for you," came the pleading voice from the next room. John looked for a way out other than the door but there was none, only a small skylight too high up to reach. There was no escaping the inevitable; he had to face the music. Tentatively leaving the bathroom he found himself in what looked like the master bedroom. Even before he could look further, what caught his eye was the large four poster bed with a beautiful blond woman with blue eyes that tantalizingly reached out and touched his own. The sheets draped delicately around her middle accentuating her perfect golden bare breasts. John was about to apologize until he noticed that she seemed not to be phased by his presence. "Come here," she smiled seductively and patted the bed beside her. "Um," he let out a small grunt, not knowing how he should react. "You're not having second thoughts now?" She pouted and crooned and again patted the bed beside her. One part of him said to let out the truth but another made him stay quiet. Yet another shifted his feet for him and he found himself moving over to the bed and getting under the covers. "That's better," A lone finger lazily traced down his bare chest and rested on the rim of the towel. "Now let's take this off and I'll show you that touch I've perfected." She pulled where it was knotted on his abdomen and easily slipped it off leaving him totally bare with the unknown seductive woman. It was as if he were entranced and under some sort of spell and yet he was still John. His body responded to her every move. Any thoughts of Monica and what she would say about what he was doing were only slivers of recollection in his mind. His being told him he would go all the way with this woman no matter what `John's' conscience told him. "Hmm, you're even better bare than clothed," she purred as she perused his naked flesh. As her lips transcended to his he smelt her perfume. He would not know the name but he knew he'd smelt and experienced its aphrodisiac qualities before. Their lips touched but so did their warm flesh. The blond's body gently writhed on his as she hummed into his mouth. "I've wanted this for so long." Her kisses became hungrier and John found himself responding and enjoying the sensation his body was feeling. He hadn't been this aroused in many years, his every pore was wanting to experience the ultimate sexual union could give. She slipped on top, taking more control but there was something wrong. John's ears made out a far away ringing sound and then a few moments later there was a faint knock at the door. With a look of frustration and biting her lower lip she slipped off John and took a breath, "Yes?" "Madam, there's a phone call for you." A young woman's voice came from behind the door. "Mary, I told you not to disturb me," she called back with even more frustration and a look of opportunity lost. "It's the man of the house, Madam." Whatever that meant made her slide over to the phone beside her bed and answer. With a worried look she glanced over to a very confused John. Immediately he felt that familiar pulling and spinning sensation and he was thrust into darkness and standing upright. Blinking slowly and deliberately his eyes adjusted to the dark and he knew he was once again in his own kitchen, leaning over the bench for support. His whole body ached with unresolved energy both physically and mentally. Looking down to his clothes he knew what he would find, he was once again wearing his T-shirt and boxer shorts he'd worn to bed that evening. "Monica," he whispered to himself and lifted the phone receiver. ............ There was the familiar dial tone but with each ring John regretted have even thought about ringing Monica. How could he possibly explain about his dream? How could he tell her he was about to make love to a beautiful blond stranger without a second thought? For the sake of his embarrassment, even though she would be accepting of what he had experienced, he would be forced to leave out vital parts. "Monica Reyes." The sleepy voice came from the other end adding another layer of John's guilt. In his haste to tell someone, he had neglected to check the early hour of morning. Without thinking further he replaced the receiver and then dropped his head in his hands. It was only moments later when the shrill sound of the phone filled his ears. He knew who it would be and sighed knowing how she could read him like a book. "John?" She still sounded sleepy but a little more awake than before. "Monica," he waited, not knowing what to say. "What's wrong?" He hadn't realized until then how much he had missed her voice, had missed her presence. "Who says anything's wrong?" John stood upright and turned to lean on the kitchen bench. "This phone has caller ID. You don't often ring me then hang up like that." She paused but John was not sure how to begin. "You want me to come home?" He did but he also didn't want to disturb her time away and he certainly didn't want to appear weak. "Monica, enjoy yourself there and I'll handle things this end. I was going to talk about a new case but I've changed my mind okay?" "Okay, if you say so." John heard her yawning. "You know you can talk to me about anything, John." "I know." He spoke softly and then hung up the phone. He could talk to her about anything but not when it came to his sex life. "What sex life." He gave a small chuckle and made his way back up to bed. .............. Chapter Three "Doggett," John clutched the phone to his ear as he paced the office floor the following morning. "John, it's Charley." The familiar voice came from the other end and his mood lightened. "You got something for me man?" "Yes and no." Charlie paused. "We have a composite of the man Miss Carpenter had in her dream, a very clear picture." "I can hear a `but' coming." Doggett's eyes were losing hope. "That's right, I ran it through the computer and came up with nothing, no match." He seemed apologetic. John's immediate thought was that the dreams were just that and not based on reality. He would have left it at that except for what he had experienced the previous night. He didn't know whether the two incidences were connected or not but it had piqued his curiosity. If Monica were there she would also have urged him to take it further. "Yeah, I know, that doesn't mean he doesn't exist, his face just isn't on our records." "Look John, this girl seems intelligent and genuine. I'd run with this. See you can find anything else that would assist this case." "Thanks man, I will. Fax me that composite, will you?" John hung up the phone looking pensively around the room and then picked up the phone again, and checking his computer screen he dialled a new number. "Hello?" A small voice answered. "Miss Carpenter? It's Agent John Doggett." "Yes?" "We came up zilch with that composite of yours, so I wondered if there was anything you'd forgotten to tell me?" John was hopeful that there would be something that would give him a further lead. "Um, I've told you everything I know." "You say that it's you in the dream then can you perhaps remember what you're wearing?" John recalled his dream and that he knew how he'd been clothed, or unclothed. A lump formed in his throat at the recollection. "Yes." Her voiced sounded a little more animated. "I was wearing an apron." After the final word, John felt himself go dizzy and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. When his eyes opened he was not in his office but once again in bed with the attractive long haired blond, seemingly beginning where the previous night's experience left off. Trying to hide his panic he held his breath and listened in to the phone conversation. "Yes honey, I'm alone." She looked across to her bed partner with a mixture of lust and concern. "I missed you too." She sat up further letting the sheet fall from her chest. John couldn't get his eyes off the exquisite form of her breasts and how they moved as she spoke. "Love you too." When she hung up the phone she hurriedly got out of bed and fetched a black lace negligee. The rest of her body was just as alluring and golden as what John had already seen. Even though it must have been a dream, how could he conjure up such a vision of loveliness? "Quick, he'll be home in about ten minutes." The black lace fell over her breasts and then she pulled it over her hips. "Here." She threw him some jeans, a t-shirt and briefs that she retrieved from a nearby chair and he knew he would have to wear. Conscious of his nakedness in the stranger's presence he tentatively left the bed and dressed. "Um," John wasn't sure what he should say. The woman clearly knew who he was, but he didn't want to give away his ignorance. "Will I see you again?" Her face turned sexy as she glided over towards him. With a hand to his cheek she guided his face down to hers. With a lingering kiss she ran fingers over his neck, pulling him closer. This was no dream, he could taste her sweet juices, feel her soft warm lips on his. "I'll be down as soon as I can." Her lips moved on his as she whispered. What did she mean by that? "You must leave now." "John?" the voice was distant as though it was coming from downstairs. "John?" It was a little closer and when he felt a hand on his arm he jolted back to reality, the phone still in his hand. "I'll get back to you," he hung up the phone quickly and looked with vacant eyes across to his partner. "John? What happened just then?" Monica's voice showed concern. "What are you doing back?" John changed the topic not wanting to share his other life. He then sat at his desk pretending to read over his computer screen. "I'm here John because I sensed something was wrong." Her hand rubbed his forearm. "Now I know I was right." Even though he loved her presence he felt guilt that he was the reason for her premature return. He also knew that he would have to come clean with his reality dreams. If anyone was to understand them, he was confident she would. However, that could come later. "Monica, you should stop worrying about me, it's just this case that I'm working on." He knew she wouldn't be totally convinced but she could be momentarily distracted. "This girl Leanne Carpenter is having dreams that she believes are based on reality." "Oh?" Monica leant over his shoulder to also look at the computer screen. Was that a familiar scent? John found himself getting breathless as he took in her perfume. "John?" He knew he was acting weird but he wasn't ready to talk. Composing himself he gathered his thoughts. "She believes that a murder has been committed and we have a face but not a name." It took all his strength not to turn his head and smell her more closely. It would be so easy to kiss her right there. He had missed her more than first thought and that familiar perfume was too alluring. "She dreamt this? John, you surprise me." Monica turned and sat on the edge of his desk, facing him. "You took this case based on someone's dream?" He tried to hide his unrest. "Talk to me. I know you, there's more to this." "I've been having dreams too." He said simply and then looked up with soulful eyes. "Is that why you rang me this morning? You know you can talk to me any time John." She rested a hand of friendship on his. "The same dreams?" "No, they are different but probably just as real. I'm in this mansion and there is a woman who seems to be the owner. Her husband rings saying he'll be home in about ten minutes and she says she'll see me later. I can see everything clearly." He conveniently left out that he'd been in bed with her and the way he had felt. "So if this mansion existed you'd recognise it?" "Not the outside but inside I'd recognize in an instant." "Come on," Monica took his hand and pulled on him to stand. "We're going to find out where this place is." "But the case?" John collected his jacket and followed Monica out of the office. "I think this is the case." She pushed the elevator button then stepped through with John in tow. ........ Chapter Four The estate agent's eyes grew wide as John gave details of the mansion's interior architecture and furnishings. "And can I ask why you want to know where this mansion is?" Jon Collins of Collin's Realty questioned the two agents. Monica had seen the recognition over the man's face. "It's a lead in a case we're working on. It's important that you let us know if you're familiar with this place." When he hesitated to reply she continued, "We can just get a court order Mr. Collins then we'll just have to come back and keep bothering you." "Okay, I'll tell you but it didn't come from me." The two agents nodded accord. "It belongs to Joan and Arthur Covington. I've been dying to get that one on the books but it's been in the family for generations. It's been in a number of Home magazines, that's how I know what it looks like inside. I've travelled past it many times, a truly impressing abode." As he spoke he wrote down the address on the back of one of his cards. "Thank you for this Mr. Collins." John and Monica both shook his hand. John was in a bit of a daze as Monica drove them to the elite area where they would find Covington Manor. It was all just too far fetched for him to understand. Monica had assured him that there were reasons for these dreams and that she would try her hardest to find out what. As he looked out the window the view changed from moving past houses to a static scene. He blinked as he recognized that once again he was in his dream. Through the window it was dark except for some garden lighting. What he did see of the grounds the foliage was wonderful, a mixture of colors and textures and behind a trellis partition he saw the hint of a swimming pool and saw and heard someone doing laps. He was in a room but it was different from the ones he's been in before. It was smaller and cosier, as though it was an altogether different building. Venturing out the door onto some spongy grass he looked back to see that it was an abode of its own, a cottage on the grounds of the mansion. The splashing had stopped and then he saw her again. The blond woman was towel drying her hair and walking towards him, a look of playfulness in her eyes. "I promised you, didn't I?" She brushed past him and entered through the cottage front door. John followed her, eyeing off her body clad in a skimpy bikini. When he entered the living room she was undressing and luring him to what he believed would be the bedroom. Even though he knew Monica was beside him and if she wanted to sleep with him he would agree, he also knew that he wanted to sleep with the blond millionaire. John knew that the emotion was not his own, John felt love and lust for his partner. What he was feeling in his vision was someone else's lust. His body followed the bombshell into a dimly lit bedroom where the bed had been turned down. "Come on sexy boy," she pulled him by his T-shirt and then lifted it over his head. "Hmmm," she purred as she ran her hands over his bare chest and then down to his jeans. John felt himself responding just as he had in her bed earlier and as she dragged down his pants and briefs. "This time lover boy, we will not be interrupted." John didn't know what to say but what they were about to do needed no words; it would all be said with actions. She pulled him onto the bed and on top of her where she spread her legs and let him take control. Without thinking he began to kiss her, first her willing lips and then down her body to those breasts that invited tasting. His tongue worked circles around one nipple before he sucked on it making it into an aroused peak. Her chest moved up to meet his mouth as she writhed on the bed clearly enjoying his sexual attention. After equal attention to the other breasts he ran his tongue down her breastbone to her navel where he dipped inside making her squirm all the more. Her fingers messed up his hair as his kissed up over where he had just tongued, his destination, her mouth once more. Her hands went wild on his body, wanting to feel everywhere she could in the short time they would be able to stay in control. "You have a wonderful body," she growled as he ran kisses over her neck then back to her mouth. John wanted this woman to be Monica, he needed it to be her so closed his eyes and let it be she, because he couldn't make his body stop what he was about to do. It almost felt inevitable. Her hips moved and squirmed as he entered her for the first time. His eyes remained firmly closed as he pounded and listened to her contented purrs. It truly felt wonderful to make love again after so long without a lover. He imagined it was Monica who was clawing his back and moaning out sexy descriptors as they danced on the bed. They were in the final throes of passion when once again John had a feeling of impending gloom. He heaved out his final breath as he heard a sound behind him. "Margie!" ................ "John?" he took a quick intake of breath when he saw that the car had stopped outside the mansion and Monica was holding the car door open for him. She tried to take his hand to help him out but he would have preferred to be given a little time to calm down. "Soon," John brushed her hand away. "Another one?" John nodded at Monica's perception and knew she wouldn't take offence at him not accepting her hand. "I think there's a cottage on the grounds, maybe at the back." He left out the obvious details of the sexual encounter. "The grounds are beautiful and there's a swimming pool mostly surrounded by trellis with vines growing over it." He carefully exited the cabin hoping Monica wouldn't notice the `desire' in his dress pants. "Monica, I also have two names but they don't match the Covington's." "Names?" The gates were open so they walked up the long driveway to the vast dwelling. "Yes, Steven and Margie." Their mouths dropped at the sight of what did look like a castle. It was certainly Old English looking with stone block masonry, three storeys high and long just like John had visualized. Trees and dense vegetation obscured one end of the building. The double front door had a wooden insert that looked like a peephole. On ringing the doorbell they only heard it as a faint ring suggesting the thickness of the wood. "What'll we ask them?" John swallowed. "I can't very well say `can we come in because I've had a dream about your house?'" "Leave it to me," Monica mentioned as she went for her FBI identification. As first thought the wooden panel opened and through it they saw a middle-aged face of a man that John didn't recognize. "Yes?" "I'm Agent Reyes," she flashed her badge, "and this is my partner Agent Doggett." He flashed his. "Are you Arthur Covington?" "No, have you an appointment?" Came the English sounding voice. "No but we need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Covington about a sensitive matter." John looked at Monica trying not to raise his eyebrows in question. The window closed and then they heard the door unlock and saw it open gradually. "Please come in. I'll go find them." John's eyes were wide as he looked around him and saw mostly what he had witnessed in his vision. There were some differences, the paintings were in a dissimilar order and the floor covering was different, the massive chandelier that hung on a long stem was unlike the simpler one of his dream. What was the same was the great stained glass window on the landing and that Latin saying. "Meum pactum dictum," John spoke softly to himself. "It's magnificent isn't it." The English butler spoke. "Imported from England over a century ago." "Indeed," John agreed and Monica looked at him questioningly. "What does that mean, meum pactum dictum?" "My word is my bond." He began walking to the right and the agents followed. John didn't know if it was significant but something told him it was important. "Please wait here in the Library." When he walked away Monica spoke, "Well?" "It's the same place, just a few differences." His pointed over to the large desk with the red leather inlay. This time all the contents were neatly stacked and there was something added. "In my vision there wasn't that computer." Again John knew there was some significance but didn't know why. The partners roamed around the room with their usual keen eyes looking for any clues. "How can I help you?" There was booming voice from the doorway and the two agents looked up to see an elderly distinguished man in his seventies. "Arthur Covington?" John questioned and showed his badge. "I'm Agent..." "Yes, yes, I know, Smothers told me," he impatiently cut John off. "We'd like to ask you a few questions if we may." The female agent decided to continue. Without offering them a seat John and Monica both got the impression that their stay would be a brief one. "As long as they're quick. I have to meet the wife at the airport." With a frown he looked at his watch. Monica looked across to John as she spoke and he knew he would trust her to ask the right questions. "We're investigating a murder." Both agents were prepared to note any look of guilt, so far there was no sign. "This man, do you know him?" Monica produced the faxed copy of the identikit composite sketch she had brought with her from their office. At first he looked and then just shook his head saying a `no' but then there was something extra that both agents saw. He resolutely gave back the picture. "Don't know him. Is that all?" he again glanced at his watch. "Mr. Covington, just a few more questions and then we'll be gone." It was John's turn to talk. "How long have you lived here?" "My whole life, when my parents died they left me the house. It's been in the family for one hundred years." That question seemed easier to answer. "Do you have a swimming pool out the back with maybe a small cottage, possibly housing some of the help here?" John had to know. "Most mansions this size would have what you described. Look I really do need to get going." His fingers nervously turned into fists. John decided not to give a further description because somehow he knew what the answer would be. "Just one more question Mr. Covington and we'll be gone." John paused a moment before asking. "Do the names Steven and Margie mean anything to you?" "No, nothing," was his little too immediate response. "Now if you excuse me," he turned and called to his butler. "Smothers?" Smothers appeared almost immediately and nodded to his boss. Without even a good-bye he left the room as speedily as he'd entered. As they followed the butler to the front door they both noticed the homeowner talking to someone with bleached blond hair and possibly in her late thirties or early forties. Her eyes looked to John's and the color and magnetism were evident. "John, did you see that look of guilt all over his face?" Monica led the way back to their vehicle. "He knows something alright." John opened the driver's door for Monica and then went for his own. "I think we need to get a warrant and come back and search the place." He needed to find out more about the blond, blue-eyed woman whose image was etched in his mind's eye. She didn't seem to be the person of his vision as she was almost fifteen years older than the blond woman of his dream but there was something very familiar about her. For some reason he felt there was more than just fleeting recognition. "Not so quickly John." Monica started the engine. "I'd like to try something first." They exchanged looks, hers confident and his questioning. .............. Chapter Five John lay on the couch in Monica's apartment, his head resting on a plump cushion. The wall furnace was churning out gentle heat. The room was beginning to warm again after his partner had been away for the past few days. "Now you can close your eyes or not, it's up to you but I want you to empty your mind of everything except your vision." Monica sat on a chair near his head. "You sure this is safe Mon?" John gave his partner a glance before closing his eyes. "Very safe, we were all given the chance to try this out on a willing partner." Her voice was gentle, helping him to calm. Ambient music played in the background as she spoke. "Okay, anything to solve this case." He had felt a mild panic when Monica had initially suggested the hypnotherapy technique that she had learned on her `Inner Psyche' course but he knew that if there were to be a deeper investigation into the murder then she would probably find out about his sexual experiences anyway. "Now John, focus on my voice." She wriggled in her seat getting a comfortable position. "Relax your body, starting with your toes, now your legs." John tried even breaths as he relaxed one part of the body at a time from the toes up. When his neck was relaxed, his whole body sunk into the comfortable sofa. "I'm going to slowly count backwards from one hundred and with each number I want you let go of your surroundings and look into your mind." He already felt relaxed, just listening to her sweet voice. "One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight,...." He didn't remember the number she got to before he was back in the cottage lying on top of who he was trying to imagine as Monica. He turned to the door from where he'd heard the intruder's voice. "John, where are you?" "I'm in the cottage." He rolled of the blond's naked body, a feeling of terror overcoming him on seeing what must have been her husband. He must have been in his mid thirties but the anger pervading his body made him look older. "What do you see?" Monica's voice was soft. "There's a blond woman and a man who I think is her husband at the door." "What's happening?" "He is angry because he just caught us." Under hypnosis the words came too easily. "Caught you doing what?" Monica must have immediately known as she asked the question. "Caught me making love to his wife." If Monica had gasped at the revelation then he had not known. "He's very angry and yelling to me to get out. I'm quickly putting on my clothes." "What are you doing now, tell me what's happening?" Her voice is still velvet on his ears. "I hear their angry exchange of words but I don't know what they're saying. He's exiting the cottage." John's face contorted as he remembered the rage in the man. "He grabs my T-shirt and is pulling me along. I stumble but he's pulling me up and taking me into the house. I hear shouts of `No!' coming from the cottage." "What happens next? You can tell me, you John are safe." Monica's words calmed him but the terror returned with what then occurred. "He's pulling me into the kitchen. I sense someone else in the room but I don't know who it is." John gripped the couch and rocked from side to side as his vision played out. "I can't move. He has a knife." Sweat began to bead on his forehead as his brow furrowed. "John, it's alright, you are safe. What does he do with the knife?" His breathing was ragged as he saw what was happening. "He's dragging me to a door. I hear whimpers from behind but I don't know where they're coming from." Under lidded eyes John's eyeballs move swiftly, showing his active dreaming. "He's opening the door and then...," John yelled out and sat up rapidly, desperately holding his throat. "John!" He heard her louder voice that woke him abruptly from his hypnotic state. Still clutching his throat he fell back on the cushion until his breathing calmed and his face relaxed a little. "John," He felt her fingertips run over the lines on his face and then a cool face washer wiping his forehead and then his neck. "What does this mean Monica? I don't understand." Monica helped him into sitting position. "It means that I believe there has indeed been a murder but it was someone else and not you, possibly this Steven of your dream. Leanne Carpenter's experiences prove that you two are linked in some way. We just have to find out how and why?" She lifted him to standing position. "I have an idea, are you okay to come with me or will you stay here? I should be no more than an hour." "I'll stay here Monica," he felt a little weak kneed after his ordeal. She guided him to her bedroom and urged him to lie down. As John lay back on the pillow he closed his eyes and let his partner take off his shoes and socks. All he felt and heard after that were the covers being pulled over his body and the clicking of the front door closing. .............. Chapter Six John couldn't believe he'd slept so long. Perhaps it was his staggered sleep of the previous night or that the dreaming had taken more out of him than first thought but the light in the room suggested it was the next morning. He rolled over on his side to see the sleeping body beside him and then remembered he was in Monica's bed. As she faced him he smiled looking at her tranquil face. He had never been in her bed before neither had he seen her in such sweet repose. His hand went to her face and he ran the backs of his fingers over the soft skin of her cheeks. A smile appeared at the corner of her mouth as a finger ran over her lips. "Hmm," she crooned. Without opening her eyes she shifted across the bed and wrapped an arm around him. Was she awake? Did she know whom she was embracing? His hand played down her back as she rested her head on his chest and continued to breath gentle warmth through his shirt. It felt very comfortable being in her bed and in her arms. The times he had wanted this were far too numerous but there just wasn't the opportunity. How he had come to be in her bed had been so natural. Her head shifted on his chest and she lifted it to look into his eyes. Looking at his lips told him a thousand words and they moved together to kiss. Nothing mattered but that action. The consequences were far from their minds as they intensified their feelings for each other. John rolled her over to lie gently over her chest, continuing the exquisite kiss. It was all slow, measured and no dream. He was with the woman he wanted to be with and nothing would stop them from going as far as they wanted. John stopped the kiss long enough to gauge what his partner wanted and all he saw was his mirrored carnal desire. He wondered what she'd been thinking as she got into the bed beside him the previous night. Had she looked at him and been equally in love? "It's okay John." She gave him consent verbally and then with her actions as she went to his shirt buttons. John's eyes closed as he felt her fingers unbutton each one, exposing his bare chest beneath. She helped him off with it and he noticed as she watched what was being revealed. She had seen him bare-chested before but this was different. They were about to make love so any amount of bare flesh was bound to add to the arousal. John's fingers went to the thin straps of her burgundy lace slip and slowly eased them off, almost licking his lips as her shoulders were revealed. A finger moved down and outlined where the silky material met the skin. It was her turn to close her eyes as John explored her breasts with a finger first and then his hand. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest and almost hear her quickening breath. Monica lay on her side very still while between finger and thumb John peeled the fabric off one breast and repeated the actions of before. He wanted to take it slowly but he also wanted it to be well paced. He could almost smell her desire as she went for his pants. She must have taken off his belt the previous night and he had been too tired to notice. Lifting his hips he let her take down his pants, under the covers. Once around his knees he used his feet to take them off the rest of the way. Just in his briefs he once again lay gently on top and began kissing, this time feeling more skin than either of them had experienced with each other. Monica sat up a little and went to the hem of her short slip, around thigh level, and gave her lover an eyeful as she peeled it over her hips, abdomen, breasts then head. She let it drop behind her and then looked to John who found her bare body even more beautiful than ever imagined. "We don't have to do this." John was testing but neither of them wanted to stop. "Oh yes we do." Monica assured as she slid closer so their bodies could lie chest to chest. "We could have been doing this in up state New York, for the whole week." She licked his lower lip and then gave him a long kiss as her hand roamed down his back to the rim of his briefs. "You invited me along so we could have sex all week?" he tested as he returned her kisses and felt her naked body with a lone hand. "Well sex eventually," she admitted as her hand went under the stretch fabric of his briefs and began to tug them down and off. "The time is right," she whispered into his mouth as they both drew the briefs off his legs, then feet. He rolled so he was on top, propping himself up with both hands beside the beautiful woman below him. At no time did he think that the act itself could mean so much change in his life. Monica was right; it all seemed so natural, making love to this woman. His eyes closed as her hand went between their bodies and felt over the part of him that would soon be united with her. She guided it to her, indicating her readiness for union. It was hot and slick at her entrance and she purred as he moved to enter her. With a hip movement he was pushing inside. That's when it all began to heat up even more. Monica became more animated and pulled John down for more hungry kisses as his hips kept up their rhythm. "On your back," she breathed and he rolled them over until Monica was on top. This was even more sensuous. As she bounced on his body he could see everything. Her flushed skin radiated readiness and she blew out breaths of air signaling her increased energy use. Her dark hair covered her face and then she flicked it back exposing her beautiful face and gorgeous hazel eyes. She smiled as she went closer to his face and while both of them kept up the friction of internal union they joined mouths for intermittent kisses. Sensing all was coming to a peak John rolled her over onto her back again to build up more force. Monica was more vocal with each thrust until he could feel that she had reached the tip. With a few more plunges he too felt the overwhelming love spill out inside her. It had been a long time since he had felt this with a woman, a real woman. In his dream he had made love to a woman but it wasn't real, he wasn't in love. Monica was the one who deserved his love and they had just taken the next step. "No regrets?" John gave her a small kiss. "No regrets." Monica confirmed with a wide smile and then took up residence on his chest in the same position they had begun their encounter. ............. "So you don't mind?" His fingers absently raked through her hair as he looked up at the ceiling. The question had been on his mind ever since his first time in bed with the blond of his vision. How would Monica take it, him having made love to another woman even though it wasn't real? "John, I know it was something you had little control over." Her hand inattentively felt over his bare thigh. "She was very beautiful." His head moved to hers wondering where the comment came from, but they remained in the same contented position. "Sorry I fell asleep. What did you find out?" As he asked the question he felt a little nervous about what Monica was going to tell him. As they had made love he just knew that she had solved the case but with the intimacy of the moment he held off asking. "With those names from your dream, Steven and Margie, I went back to the mansion and asked Smothers if he recognised the names. Arthur and his wife weren't back from the airport so he let me inside." She shifted position to get more comfortable. "Did you find anything?" John smelt her hair near his face and smiled, thinking of what they had just done. "Certainly did and after we got a team in there by now there should have been an arrest." Monica immediately continued on. "Seeing the home owners were away I took the opportunity to ask if I could look around. We went to the kitchen remembering you talking about a door to the basement. It was there as you'd described. Also the rear grounds were also as you described from your vision." "You should have called me." John was feeling some guilt at having fallen asleep. "It's alright John, you'd already done enough. You needed your rest." She propped herself up on one elbow and looked into his eyes. "What about the names?" John reminded. "According to Smothers a Steven Maisels used to work for the Covington's but mysteriously disappeared. I got the boys in investigations to do a trace but they found the files had been tampered with. That's why we came up empty handed after doing a trace on the composite picture. Only someone with money would be able to do that. Apparently he was their gardener, wait for it, over forty years ago." "What? You mean the murder happened that long ago? How? I don't understand." John was really confused. His dream had seemed so real and so much in the present day. "Well the boys got samples of the floor of the basement where Leanne Carpenter had said she'd seen the body. There were indeed traces of blood and when I left them they were in the process of trying to match it with Steven Maisels' medical records. Once that's done then they will arrest Arthur Covington for his murder." "A murder committed forty years ago. I'm at a loss Monica." "I was too John," she once again rested on his chest taking in the warmth of their combined body heat. "Remember when I hypnotized you, you mentioned that there was a whimper in the kitchen but you couldn't see who it was?" "I just thought it must have been the woman in my vision having followed us into the house." "I thought so too but then I thought about Leanne's vision and how it connects to yours. I asked Smothers about anyone else who could have been in their employ at the same time as Maisels and he said there was a cook called Lola. It makes sense John. Leanne was having the visions that Lola had seen all those years ago." "Why us and why now?" "I don't know why now but I did wonder about why you and why Leanne so I did some thinking. John, all this happened forty-three years ago. Do you see anything significant about that?" "No," he shrugged. "Only that it's my age." "Smothers couldn't remember the specific date but I'm willing to surmise that it happened on your birth date." Once again she propped herself to look at him. "You're not serious, you're talking about that soul thing?" John, even with his continuing open-mindedness it was still hard to come to terms with souls traveling from one body to another, people having had past lives. "So you're saying that I was Steven Maisels in a past life?" "It makes sense John, and Leanne was Lola in her past life. You were both drawn together somehow because both your souls had unresolved issues." The flat of her hand traveled over his shoulder giving him a little comfort. "Okay, let's assume you're right and that Arthur Covington murdered me in my past life, then who is Margie?" "Margie is his wife. Her name is Joan but he calls her by her middle name, Margaret." Monica rolled over and opened the bedside table drawer. I did some research into some media society pages some forty years ago and came up with this. Recognize them?" She watched as his eyes widened. Before him was the exact blond of his vision and the man beside her was the one who had caught them in bed together. "So the lady of the house was having an affair with the gardener, got caught by the husband and in his rage he committed murder." John pieced the puzzle together. "And they hushed it all up. Maybe Lola the cook was threatened with her life if she told but the memory of what she'd seen plagued her mind." "Have you told Leanne this?" John asked. "That's where I have a suggestion." She snuggled into his chest and hugged him tightly. "How about I write up the report this morning and you go see Leanne and her brother. I think this needs to come from you, both of you having linked souls." John gave a chuckle at the absurdity of him having to tell someone that they'd had a past life when he hardly believed it himself. "Then what?" John sensed there was more; he was comfortable with his partner. "It'll be a few days before we're needed for questioning which leaves us time." "Time for what?" John knew what was coming. "Until the end of the week there's still a room booked at the course I was taking and there's a big warm double bed." Monica kissed his chest until he responded. "Okay, I'll go with you but...," John hesitated. "But what?" "It's all part of workplace health and well-being right? That's what we tell people?" It wasn't unusual for partners to take time to better their relations in more casual surrounds. "If you say so John." She smiled on his chest. As they lay there together in each other's arms in the warm bed John recalled something that hadn't been addressed. Who was that blond woman with the striking blue eyes who had been talking to Arthur Covington that day? She would have been a similar age to John. It would have had to be his daughter, or maybe Joan (Margie) Covington's daughter. "Nuh," he self spoke, wondering if it could be true. But there was that niggling doubt, those blue eyes. The End Ciao, RPcrazy.