A/N ~ Many thanks to Carolinagirl919 for her help with the creation of this story and Crypticnotions for the prompt. I couldn't have done it without you. And I finally decided to publish.

"Wait for me. Please."

The neon lights of Lenny's bar sign shone a bright red, and every now and then the door would open to the loud sounds of a group of friends, inebriated, laughing and oblivious to their surroundings. They'd succumbed to the buzz of alcohol, rotating lights, and the energy of the city that was revving up in the late hours of the night.

Reese blinked slowly.

Behind him, Finch was complaining about Bear. Rescuing the dog and bringing him back to the library had seemed like a good idea at the time. He had thought that its presence would be a source of comfort and safety to his employer and reluctant friend, but all he'd done was remind Reese constantly about his first editions that were now at risk of being consumed by the curious inclinations and teeth of the Belgian Malinois.

"I'll buy you new ones, Finch." His offer didn't placate, and the cold chill that was wrapping itself so tightly around him was making him irritable. He was tired of listening to Harold's groaning.

"Some things, Mr. Reese, simply cannot be replaced."

The door on the front passenger side opened, and along with the cold air that swept through the car, the scent of Jasmine filled his nose. Carter slid in next to him. The tails of her wool coat rasped over the leather seats, and she pulled a paper cup holder with three steaming beverages into her lap.

"Finch, they didn't have your green tea. I got you peppermint instead." She turned and handed it to him, but he eyed the cup warily.

"Thanks, but I'll pass, Detective." Finch glanced at him in the mirror, and Reese couldn't tamp down the renewed annoyance that crept over him, nor the nagging, dull ache that was forming in his lower torso.

"I'll leave you two to Lenny Driscoll. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Bye Finch." Carter's words were said distractedly as she handed Reese his cup and put Finch's unwanted tea on the floor of the car. He downed the first sip quickly despite the heat and the way it scalded his lips. He slid his tongue over them, soothing the burn but enjoying the warmth. It temporarily held off the cold.

He let out an impatient breath after another drink of the hot brew miraculously elicited a chill from him instead of doing the desired opposite. He roughly turned the heat up two degrees. He eyed Carter in disbelief. She seemed totally unaffected by the temperature that seemed to torture him alone. She appeared cool, calm, collected as she sipped at her hazelnut.

Every now and again she drank it, and the warm smell caused the sides of his mouth to curve briefly. A tendril of her hair slid over her face unchecked and she flicked it away. He watched the motion, suddenly wishing it'd been his fingers that touched the strands instead.

His mind suddenly went to Texas, the hotel room they'd shared together with one bed. He remembered the smell of her soap when she'd stepped out of the shower. He remembered how he pretended not to notice the glow of her skin when she walked past him wrapped only in a bath towel. It was still moist, so fresh and so clean. It had practically begged to be kissed. But they were looking for Finch, they were running out of time, and he hadn't thought that it was an appropriate time for him to make a move on her. Not even if the night before she'd told him that he didn't have to sleep on the floor. Just as long as he stayed on his side of the bed and didn't wander over to hers.

But that was over a month ago, and he realized that he didn't just need her there to help him find Finch. He had needed her there because her presence had been a source of comfort for him. She made him feel alright. She'd kept his nagging fears at bay, and she'd helped him to believe that they'd find Harold no matter how bleak things looked.

They'd grown closer, though neither of them had acknowledged it. And suddenly he wondered why. He admitted to Finch that he lost Jessica because he hadn't had the courage to ask her to wait for him in that airport. Perhaps, he was being a coward again now. Opportunity and time was on his side. He didn't need to make a move now, not yet. He still had time; or so he thought.

He hissed. The dull ache was throbbing a little more. His breath left his mouth in a smoky vapor. Lethargy started to set into his bones.

"You okay?" Carter looked at him with worry in her doe eyes, but though he felt like something was terribly wrong, he lied to her.

"I'm fine," he said, dismissively. "Let's listen to some music. Pass the time."

He fiddled with the controls, looking for something upbeat. The lethargy was creeping in fast, and the terror of falling asleep gripped and clawed at him.

"As long as it's not classic rock. Classic rock puts me to sleep."

Carter could feel her breath leaving her chest; the balls of air seemed to bruise her as they fought to escape through her mouth. She'd made her way around the cabin and finally reached the other side. It was no easy feat; the snow reached all the way up past her shins, almost touched her knees. It was a good thing she jogged four days out of the week. Otherwise she would've been seriously winded.

She raised her right foot to take another labored step when she saw him.

"No."

The word was uttered softly, and she squinted for a moment focusing her eyes. "No," she said, again.

Her next steps, though heavy, were faster, and she swore, cursing the wet snow for being an unnecessary annoyance.

He was on his back, and he wasn't moving despite her calling to him several times. When she reached his side, she sank to her knees. The wet cold swiftly seeped into the fabric of her pants, but all she could see was the red stain of his blood as it tinted the snow.

"John."

She called his name once more and palmed his face. She turned his head toward her, his eyes barely fluttered open to register she was here before they closed again. Her hands and fingers were busy at the buttons of his heavy coat and when she pulled them back, they were blood stained. He'd been shot, but she couldn't tell if it was a through and through.

A track of footsteps disappeared in the distance just beyond where he lay followed closely by their own crimson stain. John had most likely returned fire, had wounded whoever had shot him. Only the woods just beyond the edge of this property would give up the answers of whether or not they were still alive or dead.

His pulse was faint when she checked it, but she wouldn't allow herself to think that she was losing him. She couldn't. Not now. Not before she got a chance to tell him…

She gave herself a mental shake. There wasn't even time to think about it. She simply had to get him up. With him being barely conscious and unable to move on his own, she knew it wasn't going to be easy. It'd been a while since she'd had to carry a fellow soldier on her back, but she still remembered how.

"Joss…"

His voice was a jolt despite the sound being so faint.

"I'm here, John. I got you."

Reese swallowed the last drop of his coffee and shoved the empty Styrofoam cup into the cup holder near the dash. It had lost a lot of its heat over the last few minutes and the final swallow was barely warm. Feeling annoyed again, he turned the heat up a few degrees. His action drew Carter's stare in the seat next to him.

"You sure you're okay, John?"

This time instead of accepting his lie, she put a hand on his arm and let it linger for a few seconds. It sent a current through him, made him feel guilty for lying again.

"I'm good, Carter," he repeated. "But what are you doing out here this late in the cold?"

"I'm here because you asked me to be here, remember? You and Finch wanted my help."

"And if you weren't here, right now, where would you be?"

She shrugged and peered through the windshield. The lights of the neon sign on the side of Lenny's bar had started to dim.

"I don't know, probably at home on the couch watching reality TV. I like 'The First 48' when I can catch it."

He pictured her in her living room dressed comfortably in some shorts or jeans, a tank top or t-shirt, a plush cushion pulled to her chest. Maybe her hair would be down, softly fanning her shoulders, looking as silky as it did now. The vision made him smile a little, but that's not what he meant. He wondered why she'd chosen this path over that of being an attorney. What had happened in her life that had led her right here? Right now?

Suddenly he wondered about his place in this moment. He wondered why he wasn't somewhere else living a totally different life. He'd given up on having one many years ago when he started working for the CIA. It seemed he'd done the same when he accepted Finch's offer to work for him too. The dull ache in his side made him question just why he had given up on all that. Why had he given up on himself so easily? Why hadn't he taken more chances? Why hadn't he asked Jessica to wait for him? Why hadn't he thought about what he could have had with her until it was too late and the opportunity was forever lost?

"I'll tell you what, though," Carter began, interrupting his thoughts. He focused all his attention on her, trying to forget how horribly the cold was starting to creep into his bones.

"What, Carter?"

"With Christmas coming up soon, and I think about the snow, I can't help but wish I could go somewhere warm. Lie out on the beach, get a tan, let the sun beam down on me and then spend some time in water so clear I can see my own hand underneath it. I'd love to do that, spend Christmas somewhere warm. Just once."

"What's stopping you?"

He asked it so matter-of-factly that it drew a small chuckle from her.

"A lot of things, actually. Not only can I not afford to go anywhere warm or tropical at Christmas on my salary, but I've got Taylor to think about now. His needs come first. Everything else is secondary. Paul and I managed to spend a few days on leave in Puerto Rico once. But that was ages ago."

It was the truth. She always did put Taylor first. It was a fact that could have filled her with resentment over the years, but he didn't notice even a hint of it when she spoke. Her voice was still wistful, still hopeful, still soft. And he realized that he was being presented with another chance. An opportunity to change his own path.

He'd left Jessica behind in Mexico, and even when he had bumped into her in that airport, he'd chickened out and said nothing despite the fact that his heart was breaking as he watched her walk away.

So many things had happened between him and Carter in such a short time. They had shared so much, been through so much. She had been saving his life since the day they first met. Saving him not only from danger, but saving his soul in quiet albeit powerful ways that touched him down to his core. Yet they never took moments to acknowledge just how much they meant to each other. He'd never taken the time to tell her how much she meant to him.

"What about you, John?"

He was quiet again, and she turned around to slide her arm between his legs. She positioned it carefully over her shoulder while she grabbed his arm and threw it over her other. She groaned, immediately feeling his weight and almost stumbled from her knees backwards onto the snow. John was six feet two inches and about a hundred and ninety pounds give or take. He was heavy. She gritted her teeth, knowing that the snow was going to make the almost impossible task of getting him back to the SUV even more difficult.

She ignored the complaint of her back and lungs and every muscle in her body and told herself to get on her feet. She let out a loud cry when she finally stood, and she slowly made her way to back to her car willing her trembling knees not to buckle under his weight.

She felt warm liquid oozing down her chest, knew it was his blood. She knew she had to do something to stop the flow. He was still losing a lot of it. And fast. When she got back to the SUV, she quickly yanked the back door open, and with a loud expulsion of breath she pushed him into the back seat. She bent and put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath as it came out quickly. He hadn't made a sound. Not even when she plopped him onto the cold leather. She put the back of her hand to her mouth. It was trembling. She wished she had more time to regulate her breathing, but time wasn't on her side. His feet were dangling, and she went around the other side of the car to open the door and pull him further in.

She pulled quickly at the scarf around her neck and climbed into the back with him. Getting it around his waist was another task, but she tied it tightly to control the bleeding as best as she could. She took a step back and downward until her feet were on the ground again, and then she shut both back doors. She ran around the front of the car, got in and started the engine.

She dialed Finch's number and turned the heat all the way up. She didn't know how long he'd been out in the cold. With a gunshot wound and so much blood loss, the last thing he needed right now was to develop hypothermia.

Reception out here was almost non-existent, but as she pulled further up to the main road, she finally got a signal and it started to ring. Relief filled her when he finally answered. She'd need both his and Shaw's help.

When Carter made a hard right onto the main road, Reese's eyes fluttered open, and then closed just as quickly.

He hissed quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that the dull ache had gotten worse. He felt a hint of dizziness pass over him, slid a hand around his abdomen. He felt like he was going to pass out. Felt the hands of unconsciousness start to claw at him. But he fought it, he wanted, no needed, to answer her question.

"I wish I could give that to you. I want to so much."

"Give me what?"

"Christmas someplace warm. Somewhere with sand and sun. Somewhere we could be together, away from all this, this life, the danger. And we'd take Taylor along too."

She was shocked into silence. He had just opened a new door between them, and there was no going back. Still, she didn't look away, didn't shy away from his gaze that seemed to hold her in place.

"John?"

"I don't let people in," he admitted, shaking his head.

He had to continue, he had to keep talking. He could feel himself going under, and the bright light he was seeing had nothing to do with the lights coming from outside the car.

"It was easy to be that way after I got the job…when I started working for Snow. It was easy. But I don't wanna waste another moment. Not without asking you to..."

He hissed again, and this time she noticed. She reached out for him as worry creased her brow.

"John!"

"It's alright," he murmured, holding on to the hand she extended.

"John, we have to get you some help."

"Just what the hell was he doing out there by himself in the fuckin' snow?"

Shaw's expletive resounded in the room, bounced off the walls of one of Finch's safe houses and covered everyone in an awkward silence for a moment. Carter watched her peel the bloody gloves from her hands, and she fought to conceal the heightened prick of worry that moved over her skin. She swallowed and threw her hands up.

"Fusco said he was onto something. He was dealing with the latest number."

"Chase Patterson." Finch nodded, and Shaw threw the plastic gloves into the nearest trash bin. The loud thud grated on Carter's nerves.

"We wondered if he was going to skip town again, but since he'd settled into an apartment next to his old home, seemed like he was back in New York to stay. At least for a little while."

"That's what Fusco thought too," Carter said, quietly. "But he said at the last minute, John figured out who'd killed the Pattersons. It wasn't Chase after all. It was his half-brother Phil."

"What half-brother?" Shaw asked.

Carter fished a photo of the doorman in Chase's building out of an inside pocket and passed it to Shaw. Both she and Finch gazed at the photo when she told them how he'd worked there since Chase was a teenager, first part time, and then as a full time job when he hadn't been able to get into a good college. Little had they known that Mr. Patterson's affair with Phil's mother had produced an illegitimate son. One who he'd ignored for most of his life, and being a man of influential means, one he could easily deny. Phil had finally gotten close enough to get revenge on a father who'd left both he and his mother behind, Carter explained. All that was left was to kill Chase, and then he could start over.

"And no one would've ever known."

Finch's monotone was followed by the shrill of a cell phone. Fusco was on the other line to let them know that they'd found Phil's body right where Carter guessed he'd be - in the huge patch of trees beyond the cabin. Chase had been inside, unconscious, his stomach filled with a mixture of prescriptions, but still holding on. It looked like he was going to make it.

Sam sensed her anxiety and looked at her as Finch continued his conversation with Fusco. "He was lucky that you found him when you did. He'll be okay."

"Thank you," she breathed heavily.

Impulsively she reached for Shaw's shoulder and squeezed it. The touch shocked them both; the younger woman never seemed too fond of physical contact. Shaw gave a brief look of understanding instead of her usual sarcastic quip and tilted her head in the direction of the bedroom down the hallway.

"Go on," she said. "I know you wanna see him."

He shook his head vehemently, swallowing hard. "It's okay, Carter. I just want to know, if I make it, if I come back from this…would you?"

"Would I what, John?"

"Wait for me? Please?"

His heart seemed to stop beating as the seconds ticked away. The temperature dial in the car was now at its highest, but the cold had successfully kept it out. He felt himself growing stiff, felt the darkness begin to cloud his vision. He was slipping away. He knew it would happen someday, but he'd gladly welcome it if he knew that the budding feelings he had for her that he'd carefully kept at bay had been somehow reciprocated.

She touched his face, and for a moment the heat from her palm sliced through him and warmed his whole body.

"Yes, John. I'll wait for you. Just stay with me."

Her voice was shaky. She held things almost as equally close to the vest as he did, and her emotional promise rocked him in that moment. He felt a rush of emotions, among them relief, pain, regret, but above all happiness, and a desire to tangibly hold onto what was being poured out between them.

He pressed his lips to hers, and he felt her take him in.

"John? John."

Her voice was a low whisper in Reese's ears. His eyes were still shut, but he could feel her hands on his arm and the urgency in her grasp.

He thought to murmur her name, but the word remained trapped in his throat. He swallowed hard and turned his head. The action drove some of the sadness out of her voice and when she called his name again, she sounded more hopeful.

"John."

"Joss," he croaked, and finally his eyes opened. The light directly above him was bright, and he squinted. Her hand moved to the side of his face, and he welcomed the warmth that accompanied it.

"Joss," he tried again.

"I'm here," she answered. "I'm here."

Her eyes were glassy, unshed tears filling at the brim. Like him, she was also overwhelmed in the moment. So much that words were failing her. Instead of speaking, she gently put an arm around him and laid her head on his shoulder. The simple act filled him with such hope and anticipation of what was ahead for the two of them. He swallowed hard, cupping the back of her head and holding it.

"I'm so glad you waited."