Disclaimer: I know generally authors ramble on about how nobody ever reads their disclaimers, well I have a confession to make



disclaimers are usually very funny, so read this one. I own nothing exept that $110.75 statistic book I bought this morning (and maybe the EXACT SAME book I bought off of Amazon too?). Oh, yeah, and my 'puter too (how else would I be doing this?). Anyway, John Doe, Lt. Avery and co. are all NOT MINE. So don't sue me please, I don't have anything you want anyway, besides the fact that the show probably will be cancelled (crosses fingers *I hope not*). Ok, now I'm just rambling *ho hum*, ok, now go read the story (It's good by the way). Now that was just shameless advertising hehe.

He ran, literally. When he came back down the tunnel I saw it in his eyes. The utter defeat. He only said one thing "it's Digger", but in those two word was the most hurt and betrayal anyone has ever experienced since Brutus killed Julius Ceaser. The next day he was just gone. No more Doe around to bother me, you'd think I'd be thrilled. But I wasn't, truth be known I missed him. A lot. One of the few things I'd come to rely on in the past few months was his always being there. I should have realized he'd be gone as soon as he found out who he was, but I didn't think he'd just leave like that. A few weeks later we found Digger. He was attempting to leave the country, but apparently he wasn't willing to get rid of that silly hairdo, so we caught him. "How we gonna get Doe back here? You know he'll want to see him." Frank said as we walked away from the interrogation room. I thought about it for a minute and then it came to me. "Put him on the news." I replied. "How?" Feed the press some line about him having some fatal disease and ask for people who've had contact with him. Put out a phone number, some people will call, tell them something believable and they'll go away. Doe will come." "Ok" sighed Frank And come he did. Walking in the station like he owned the place, practically running to my office. He almost ran me over as I was coming out. "Where is he?" "In a cell, this way" I said leading the way. When we had almost reached the interrogation room I turned to him and said "no yelling or tossing him around right? You know the NSA is gonna be all over you if you do ok?" he swallowed hard "ok" I glanced at him, he was obviously anxious to see him so I opened the door. Nothing much happened inside. John comenced signing to Digger, who responded verbally, since he was cuffed. John didn't get any more out of him than we had though. When we left I could almost feel John's dissapointment. "What now?" I asked. "I drive 13 more hours and go back to bed" he replied. "Why not just get a hotel?" I asked. "I left my wallet at home" he replied with a resigned sigh. "You are in no condition to drive 13 hours" I replied firmly. "You going to rent me a hotel room?" "No, you can crash at my place, I have an extra bedroom". He looked at me quizically, raising his eyebrwos in that cute way of his "I thought you didn't like me". "Yeah well absence makes the heart grow fonder, isn't that what they say?" I said nonchalantly. "I guess so" "Come on, I'm driving". When we arrived at my house it was late so I poibnted John to the second bedroom and (with a yawn) proceeded to tell him I was going to bed and would see him in the morning. He nodded and we headed off to our respective bedrooms. I always lock my bedroom door at night, precaution I guess. I slipped into my spaghetti strap shirt and my shorts and slipped into bed, falling asleep almost immediately. He was pushing inside me, intense pain flooded my body. He was laughing, but I couldn't do a thing. I felt like I was paralyzed, I couldn't see his face, the terror flooded through me like so many times before, I couldn't scream, my mind felt like it was disconnected from my body. And then he left, just like that he pulled out of me. He pulled his head back from my neck and I saw his face, and screamed. Wait, that was never in the dream, but then again the face that leered at me had never been in that dream either. John. I scrreamed as loud as I could, opened my eyes, and there he was *it wasn't a dream* my mind screamed at me. Panic rose in my chest like a flood. And then I passed out. When I woke it was to the comforting smell of ... *what, chamomille tea* my eyes slowly opened, John was sitting on the side of my bed holding a cup of tea right under my nose. "here drink this. it'll make you feel better" he said with a smile and that quirky thing he does with his eyebrows (A/N you know what I'm talking about :D)

So, um should I give up and, um *thinks for a moment* I know! hang myself, should I give up and hang myself? (j/k hehe)