A/N Carter meets Reese by Queensbridge to return Bear. I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters
It was late and Reese was tired.
The drive back to the library from the doctor's residence had been a long one. He parked the car along the street, gazing across the sidewalk. The flashing lights, chatter from people walking in the city…it was almost like he didn't see them. He walked with heavy feet up the steps of the old building, the scent of old worn books began to fill his nostrils as he got further up the stairs and closer to the main room.
He heard Finch clacking away at the keyboard in front of him, the creak of the chair he sat on and the soft frustrated sigh that came from his friend's mouth. He walked the expanse of the floor till he got to the desk.
Something was missing. He looked around, but couldn't put his finger on it.
"The storm has arrived Mr. Reese, and the virus has already begun shutting down parts of the machine's systems. I don't have any idea how to stop it." He looked at his Finch's face as worry passed over it, helplessness even. He took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes, and Reese took a deep breath.
Months since Rikers and he just felt detached from it all. This had become routine to him. Not the like routine of the army, where you got up when you were told, wore what they gave you, shined your boots and stood at attention. This was the routine where you did what you had to do because that's all you knew how to do.
In the army there was down time, where after you finished your drills you could sneak into the female dormitory, convince one of your fellow recruits to go hang behind the mess hall. You fumbled underneath her clothes in the dark, hoping you didn't get caught, and you got some tail pushed up against the wall, sinking yourself into her, hoping she'd be okay with you getting off before she did. But you bit her ear and sucked on her neck just good enough so she'd give you another shot when you came looking for her again.
But this? This was different. The routine kept his mind off Rikers. The small tiny box of a cell where he had to pretend to sleep, but couldn't. The even smaller room where he sat under stark lighting while he sat opposite Carter, thankful for her presence and glad to sit and have a conversation with her. It was the only thing that kept him sane.
Of course Rikers wasn't nearly as bad as some of the hell holes he'd been held captive while he worked for the CIA.
'What's your name?' He remembered being interrogated for sixteen hours, being administered electric shock, being wet repeatedly with the coldest water, before the volts ran through his body. All they wanted was his name.
He wouldn't give it.
They didn't think he'd last. But he did. Sixteen hours. It was his personal best.
Or what about the time where he'd been cut with surgical precision on various parts of his body. It was a hobby of his captor at the time. A scalpel. The 9 blade was his favourite. Perfect for making paper cut size wounds. The most painful of all. He'd enjoyed inflicting the pain. But he was not pleased with the fact that he couldn't make John Reese scream.
A few grunts. Reese remembered. A low moan deep in his throat, but he never screamed.
So Rikers was nothing. Or so he thought. It was nothing to feel the fists of at least six Aryans as they landed blow after blow to his chest. His back, his face, and stomach. He bled from his mouth, and his nose, coughed because he couldn't breathe, but this wasn't the worst he'd ever been beaten.
That's what he told himself. But still something about it had gotten to him. It had penetrated his resolve, the peace, not a genuine one, but a peace of sorts that he had cultivated since working with Finch.
A few days before he was detained, he had genuinely felt happy. The part of his brain, his psyche that remembered what it felt like, felt free finally. He was happy with his life after all that time. He loved his work. It was different than being with Kara. When he'd whispered those words to her in Europe that night when they were cleaning up the evidence of them ever being in that apartment, he spoke about the joy of a lethal kind.
The kind where he could twist a knife into someone's chest and find joy in watching the light leave his eyes right before he died. The kind of joy where he could pour just the right amount and just the right combination of chemicals over someone's body so there'd be no trace they ever existed on this earth. That was the kind of love of his work he'd experienced.
But this kind. This was real. He was helping people. He was giving people what he hoped he himself would have someday; a second chance.
But Rikers did something to him. To that peace and that joy, that happiness. He hadn't been the same. He'd just been going through the motions, walking out his routine.
And his routine would soon require that he help Finch find a way to fix the Machine. He would just wait for his orders to come. And he knew that they would.
He looked around the library again and saw the empty dog bed. He realized what was missing.
"Finch, where's Bear?" The dog was finally coming out of his depression. The poor animal was feeding off of his negative energy. He was finally out of his slump. He wanted to see him. Spending time with him as of late had been the only thing that brightened his days.
"Oh that. That's another thing we have to discuss."
"What do you mean discuss? Where is he?"
Finch got up from his desk and stood before him. He seemed to consider just how to put into words what he wanted to say. The last time Finch had been this nervous it had been his birthday and he'd slipped a small box with a key in it into his hands. Right before he shooed him off and decided to work a case alone because of Reese's 'sensitivities'. He wondered now, what he was hesitant to say.
"I loaned him to Detective Carter."
"You loaned him to Carter? For what exactly?" He was confused, intrigued, but also slightly annoyed. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what was coming next.
"As you know Detective Fusco had been detained by IAB. They were launching the investigation into him and any possible connections he might have had with Stills' death."
He knew all of these details. Carter had called him earlier asking what he planned to do to help Fusco. It was brief, and he guessed she hadn't liked what he had to say. But he wondered at her need for Bear.
"Well Carter wanted Bear's help finding Still's body and she….she moved it somewhere else so the IAB team couldn't find it."
"She did what? You let her take Bear so she could move Stills' body alone, Finch?"
"Well you were otherwise occupied, as was I. She had to move quickly, it was a spur of the moment decision. I'm going to get him now. I'm meeting her under the Queensbridge."
The look he gave Finch just then could level a building. He wasn't pleased to hear about Carter having to move a dead body. Especially when he was the cause of the officer being dead and when he'd forced Fusco to hide it.
"Never mind that, Finch. I'll get him." He stalked off, taking the steps two at a time.
It was late and he didn't feel like driving. He wanted to spend a few moments with Bear and then head home. Maybe he'd stop by a bar and drown himself with a few beers. Maybe he'd even find someone to take against a wall like the old days in the army.
He wanted to empty something. A few bottles of liquor, or his cock inside someone; either option would help to numb his brain to the thoughts that swirled incessantly in his head all the time.
He was halfway to the Queensbridge when he realized he should have let Finch pick the dog up. If Carter's mood was at all like it was earlier he wasn't looking forward to the conversation. He opened the window letting the night air into the vehicle. It was chilly, biting, cold. It was a good slap in the face, it stung, it made him feel something. He'd been walking around feeling vacant for so long.
He let out a sigh as he pulled up to the meeting spot but he lingered in the car for a while.
He guessed he shouldn't be upset with Carter. It was easier to be angry with her instead of himself. That way he could blame her for how he felt. Why the hell had she risked so much? Risked so much for him? What did she expect in return for it?
She told Donnelly when they were cuffed in the back of his SUV that she thought he was a good man. He couldn't' meet her eyes. He couldn't look her in the face. From the moment Donnelly slapped the cuffs on her and looked at her so disappointingly he felt the familiar blanket of guilt rest on him.
But she quietly declared him a friend without shame. Without any fear. He could have kissed her right then and there if Donnelly and his guilt weren't the two other passengers riding in the vehicle with them.
He was glad Kara hadn't kidnapped her. When he found himself on the bus the next day with her and Mark he was confused, worried, did Kara kill her? Mark had told her that she hadn't and he didn't question why. Little did he know she'd spent the entire day looking for him, trying to save him.
He managed a smile then. She looked exhausted in the corridor pleading for him to let her help him. He saw it in her eyes; she was desperate to save him. She actually cared about him. But he'd been resigned to die to pay for his past mistakes. The tears in her eyes were enough comfort for him. He'd die knowing that at least someone cared about him in the end after all.
Maybe if things were different, he could have loved her. He could have cared for her, had a life with her. If things were different, maybe she could have loved him too.
He got off the roof, the bomb on Snow was detonated, and he along with Kara were scattered over the street below. But he wasn't the same person. He didn't quite know who he was anymore. He still worked the cases with Finch. But he didn't feel the same. And he didn't know if he could ever be the same person again.
He wanted to reach out to her. He didn't know how to. So he acted like Rikers hadn't happened. He acted like Kara hadn't happened. And then she seemed to get serious with Beecher. He initially encouraged her to go out with him, but he wound up resenting his presence in Carter's life and he was angry that he couldn't find a way to talk to her anymore like he used to.
He'd overheard her talking about introducing him to Taylor and it shut something off in him he couldn't describe. He ended up sleeping with Zoe that night. He enjoyed the time with her. She hadn't been one to disappoint but the next day in the light of the morning, he knew it was time for both of them to go their separate ways, until the next time they each needed the touch of a familiar stranger.
He was searching for something. He didn't know what it was. He was searching for answers perhaps. But he hadn't been successful in finding any.
Carter watched as Lionel walked back to his desk, his gun and his shield in his hand. He tucked his badge into the pocket of his coat, his gun into his holster at his waist and he sat down in his chair. His shoulders were a little droopy. He was glad that it was over; for now at least and he could get back to work.
His face seemed to age in the last few hours. They'd just buried Beecher and Fusco looked like he'd almost wished he could be swallowed up in a hole in the ground himself. He'd been through hell in the last few hours.
They both had. And he didn't even know the half of it yet. She picked up the file on Beecher she had on her desk in front of her and walked over to him sliding the file into his hands.
She gave him a small smile and he seemed to perk up a bit.
"Look this over for me, Fusco will you? A fresh pair of eyes could really help me. I wanna find out what happened."
He looked at her and she swore his shoulders seemed to square away and he nodded his head at her.
"I'm heading home, it's been a long night and I'm tired. See you tomorrow." She said and walked back to her desk picking up the leash attached to Bear's collar. They walked out of the precinct slowly unaware of the footprints they were leaving behind.
Carter felt tears sting her eyes. She didn't know who she was right now. She wasn't sure who she was becoming, but she knew at the end of it, she couldn't let Fusco sink alone. She couldn't let him go down; she couldn't let him think that he had no one who cared about him.
He was the one after all who reminded her about Taylor when she was planning on staying with John till the end. She'd temporarily lost her mind and was willing to stay there and die with him if need be.
Fusco was the one who found out HR was using Beecher when she asked for help and he was the one who was there to hold her when Cal died. He'd been there for her. She couldn't leave him out in the cold.
She didn't know who she was becoming. She needed to figure out who that was. She guessed that Fusco had a lot of thinking to do as well.
He'd dodged a bullet today, she'd moved Stills' body somewhere they'd never think to look. Somewhere it'd never be linked to either of them if it was ever found. Thank goodness she had Bear to help sniff him out.
She got him into the back of her cruiser and after she started the car she scratched him under his neck and stroked his head and his back.
He barked in approval, happy for the affection.
"Bear, I really appreciate your help. I owe you a big one, boy. Next time you wanna curl up on my couch, you let me know. I'll save a spot for you." She grinned and he barked again. "You want a treat?"
Bear barked again, and she pulled into a small service station looking for a pack of doggie biscuits.
"I don't know what your daddy normally buys you so I hope this is okay." She paid for the bag of treats and they got back into the car. She threw a few of them into the back seat along with him and listened as he happily swallowed them down.
"I don't know much about your daddy anymore Bear. It seems he's lost lately, I just can't read him like I used to."
Bear whined and she shook her head, throwing a few more treats in the back for him. She thought back to their conversation earlier. He'd been so indifferent, his words cool towards her. Unlike their conversation at Rikers. They'd opened up to each other. She was sure he made a lot of it up. But somehow in those hours of interrogation, they'd gotten closer.
At the D.O.D. facility, in that corridor, she'd seen the urgency in his eyes accompanied by his exhaustion. She didn't' want to leave him. She wanted him to know that she cared. But he seemed so ready to die, so ready to sacrifice himself. Even in those last moments, the ones she thought that were his last, he thought about her safety over his. So selfless right up till the end.
She hadn't wanted to leave him. And when she and Lionel got to the ground floor, she wanted to wait till it was over. She wanted to wait till the bomb exploded; she wanted him to sense that she was still there for him and hadn't left his side.
She was a mess that night. She was a mess and she hadn't realized until later just how much she cared for him.
It wasn't easy for him getting back on the job with Finch. She could see he was a wreck, but he withdrew into himself and seemed to push her away. She needed answers herself, answers to so many questions, but he wasn't there. So she sought out Cal. She wanted to forget that he wasn't there, she wanted to forget that they'd gotten close since that's what it seemed he wanted. So Cal was there.
Everything had gotten messed up. So messed up. Cal was gone, Fusco had almost been taken away and all she was left with right now was soiled shoes and a dead body hanging over her head.
And now she had to return the dog. She hoped Finch was already there. She was tired, she was hungry and she just wanted to go home.
"Come on, boy." Carter opened the back seat of the car and Bear crawled out. She walked towards the water, seeing a man standing at the edge of the skyline. Bear barked and quickened his gait beside her. As Carter got closer, she saw that the man was too tall to be Finch. She realized it was John who'd come to pick him up.
He turned as he heard her footsteps approaching and Bear yanked at his leash a little seeing his daddy ahead of him.
"Go on, Bear." She said letting his leash go.
Animal and owner greeted each other and she stood to the side as John petted him. She handed him the rest of the bag of treats after a while and he looked at her taking it.
She noticed the look in his eyes again, the vacant look on his face and saw that nothing had changed. She pressed her lips together, feeling herself becoming angry remembering his clipped tone earlier.
"Thanks for letting me use him on such short notice. I really appreciated it."
"Don't thank me. I had nothing to do with it. Didn't know anything about it until late tonight." He said his tone cold once more.
"Nevertheless, thank you anyway." She said and started to walk away.
"Finch told me what you did for Fusco. You made the right choice. But I'm sure you knew that already."
"Yeah, I came to the conclusion that friends needed to stick together and have each others' backs. A lot of people don't know what real loyalty is, and the value of appreciating those who support them at a moment's notice."
He gave a lopsided smirk and shook his head quickly. "You throw that word around a whole lot, friend."
"You know as well as I do that I don't. I thought you and I were friends. I thought you cared about what happened to me, to Fusco. Things seemed to have changed."
"What's that supposed to mean, Carter?" He said facing her.
"It means that in the past few months since Rikers, you've forgotten all about us. I barely hear from you and when I do it's about your cases. I've become closer to Finch in the last few months than I ever thought I would and that's saying something given how secretive we both know he is."
"So you've made another friend. You should be happy about that. He's a resourceful guy to have around."
"I used to think that about you. What the hell happened to you? You told me that I was your friend. At the time I thought you meant it. Or did that only count back then when you needed someone to help you while you were in Rikers?"
"I never asked you for your help!" He walked up to her quickly standing directly in her face staring down at her. His face was a cold mask of anger. "Remember? I nodded to you in the basement of the bank. I told you it was okay to give me up. You told Donnelly you didn't know me. That was not my idea. That was all you."
She'd never in all the time she'd known him heard him speak to her like that. She took a step back at his expression, then stepped forward again looking directly at him.
"I didn't give you up because I thought your ass was worth saving!" Here voice was raised and she pointed her finger right at his chest. "I thought you were a good man who deserved a second chance! I didn't think you deserved to be behind bars. I thought you deserved to be free to help people." He looked away from her glare. "And I thought you'd be grateful."
"Thanks for bringing Bear." He started to walk away and she grabbed his arm.
"No you don't, John. You're gonna listen to me. I'm tired of you walking away. I'm tired of you clamming up and acting like you're the only one going through something!"
"Carter, there's no point to this." He said.
"Like hell there isn't. You weren't the only one who lost something. I have to live with the fact that I had something to do with Donnelly's death every day of my life. He started chasing you because of me! He'd never have known about the Man in a Suit if it wasn't for me. I was there with you when he caught us after you got out. He put handcuffs on me too remember? I was about to lose my job, my reputation and my son! So don't you act like you're the only one who's lost something, John."
She turned away from him for a minute. She was so angry she couldn't straight. But she was sad, because she really did think of him as a friend. She thought of him as more than that.
She felt tears sting her eyes again and she wiped impatiently at them.
"I don't know if you're lost. I don't know if you're hurt. I don't know what you're going through because you won't talk to me. I've lost Szymanski, I've lost Cal. I almost lost Fusco. I lost….after everything we went through in Rikers….I feel like I lost you too."
Her back was still turned. She couldn't look at him anymore. "You're not the only one who's lost things, John."
"Carter….." She wasn't facing him, but she knew he was staring a hole into her back. "In the end, we're all alone. And no one's coming to save you." she heard the words that she knew he didn't mean. She heard his voice tremble as he said them.
She shook her head. "You tell yourself that to try to make yourself feel better, but it's a lie. There are plenty people out here that want to be there for you. You just won't let them. If you need help, I think we…..me and Lionel…..we've proven that we'll be there whenever you need us. But you gotta be there too. As much as it hurts, you need to be there. Even if you can't do anything, you gotta be there, too."
She finally turned around to face him and when she did, she saw tears start to fall down his cheeks.
"This isn't something….."
"I know….." She said walking towards him. She knew what he wanted to say. She knew he was hurting just like she was. He closed his eyes turning away, but she put her hand on her face. "Stop walking away. Just stop, John."
"I'm trying to work it out on my own. The only way I know how." He said. "Alone."
"John…you don't have to do it that way anymore." Her voice was soft as she looked up at him, cupping his face with her hands. "Please, I need you just as much as you need me."
"Carter…"
"Don't run away, John."
She stood on her toes and put her hand behind his neck and pressed her lips upwards to meet his. She waited. Forever it seemed until he finally crashed his lips onto hers and kissed her like a desperate man aching for her touch. Tasting and taking, his lips roamed.
Bear's leash was dropped along with his bag of treats and he sat still beside them.
Reese pulled Carter's body against his with such force, she was taken aback for a moment, but her hands found their way behind his neck and she held onto him as he claimed her mouth over and over again. He sucked at her lips, slid his tongue between them and she kissed him back returning his passion with her own.
She needed him, needed to feel him close to her. Needed the soft whispers in her ear right now, his breath as he kissed her neck. She needed his hands around her waist, the touch that told her she was safe to feel what she wanted. She could be as angry as she wanted, as scared as she wanted, but she'd be protected, secure, safe and alive in his arms.
She kissed him back giving him comfort, soothing his fears, his doubts and concerns. She pressed her hands on his chest, letting him know she supported him, that she was there for him. Her tongue said he didn't need to be afraid, he could tell her anything, and still be a man, he could still be strong, he could still need and not be less of who he was.
He found solace in her then and she found it in him. When their lips parted she was breathless, she held onto him with fresh tears in her eyes. She felt like they connected again, connected like they had at Rikers, but this was different. She felt lighter, freer, and she felt that he'd had a breakthrough too.
"I have to take Bear home."
She nodded through tear soaked lashes and kissed him again.
"I want you to come with me." He whispered and kissed her cheek. She wanted to be with him too. She needed to be with him. So badly.
"I have to take the cruiser back." She said. She needed a shower, she needed to change. She thought of all the things she had to do, but they meant nothing right now. He didn't want to let her go. He took her lips again, lingering on them, suckling the bottom one, playing in her hair.
"Then take it back, and come to my place. Please, Joss."
She hesitated for a minute then agreed. She walked away, shaky from the passion pumping through her veins now and drove back to the precinct.
Two hours later Reese greeted her at the door of his apartment. She was beautiful he thought, in a simple floral strappy dress that fell right above her ankles and showed the soft skin of her neck and gave him a glimpse of her cleavage.
He had been so used to the sight of her in work clothes, that he fully appreciated the sight that was before him right now. She looked feminine, soft, vulnerable and mesmerizing, all at the same time. He'd had a chance to shower and wash his hair as well and the scent of his soap mingled with the scent of her jasmine perfume.
He felt almost afraid to touch her, but she put him at ease with her smiles, her light touches to his skin and finally her lips on his.
He'd poured her a glass of wine. And besides one sip, both their glasses sat untouched on the kitchen counter.
"I can't believe you're here, Carter." He said.
"Joss." She said, with her doe eyes piercing into his. "Call me Joss like you did long ago. When you said I wouldn't ever be alone."
He moved closer to her then, his hand sliding behind her neck, his face close to hers and he murmured her name.
She closed her eyes and smiled, right before he kissed her. It was better than it was under the bridge. It was sensual, her full lips sought out his own. Her hands looked for his, linking her fingers with his and his arms pulled her closer.
He slowly walked them over to the bed, slipping the straps of her dress off her shoulders and she stood before him looking beautiful as ever.
He couldn't believe she was here. His lips discovered the soft plane of her skin, the spots she loved to be touched, and the spots she liked to be kissed and caressed. Their limbs twined together, fingers, legs, and feet. Lips and tongues danced together, moving, gliding, they were electric together.
There wasn't a part of her body he left untouched.
Her lips touched the skin of his torso and he melted underneath her tongue. His body was hers to do with as she pleased. He lay under her as she climbed on top of him, pressing her body to his, making him surrender to the sweet torture she administered.
She made him burn, licked his nipples, caressed his neck, straddled his thighs and when she lowered herself onto the full length of his cock he felt as if heaven descended over him. He, a killer became the victim. He was the one who was conquered, by her, her touch, her soul right now.
He died a little every time she lowered herself on his shaft. He could barely breathe. He could barely make a sound except to sweetly whisper her name.
Over and over, he called her name. His tongue caressed it, lingered over the one syllable.
It was branded over him. He felt as if she owned him in that moment. He belonged to her and she to him.
She arched her back on top of him and he rose up to close his mouth over her nipple. How sweet she tasted, like the sweetest peach after it had just ripened and had been cut to offer nectar, sweet to his lips.
"John….." The moan low in her throat, as he licked at her other nipple excited him and so did her fingers as they moved over his scalp through his hair.
Her pace quickened on top of him and he pulled her close, his hands, his fingers hungrily digging into her hips.
There'd been nights with other women he'd fucked, women he'd had sex with, nothing compared to this.
He flipped her over till he was on top of her and put his hand behind her knee raising her leg over his neck.
Deeper he sank in and watched as she closed her eyes, her mouth opening with no sound coming out. The pleasure on her face as she felt him move inside was indescribable.
He pounded into her hungrily and the groans she uttered were sweet in the air of the apartment, echoing in his ears, and she squeezed him with every thrust.
It wasn't long before they both were spent and he emptied himself into her. Carter held onto him, as he gently lowered her leg. She had a look of contentment across her face, but he frowned as he saw her start to tear up again.
"What's the matter?" He asked, kissing her tears away, smoothing her hair from her forehead. He kissed her cheeks again. "What's the matter? Tell me, Joss."
She tried to smile then. "I just…I just missed you so much." She said and hugged him tight.
He had a lot to make up for. He knew. He'd kept her out. He'd locked himself away from her, from everybody. But he couldn't do it anymore.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with so much alone. I'm sorry about Stills', Fusco." He was sorry about the fact that he'd soon have to reveal that he was the one who'd actually killed Stills and had forced Lionel to bury his body.
He buried the idea of that confrontation and decided to think about it another day. He wanted nothing to ruin the moment right now. This was the perfect beginning of something special that he didn't want to mar in any way.
As he rolled over to press kisses along her neckline he took joy in the sound of her laughter as it rumbled in her throat.
There was laughter in his life again and she'd brought it back. He'd been wrong before. The job wasn't the only thing that had made him happy before. She'd been a big part of it as well. And he looked forward to a future when he knew he'd begin to feel the happiness again. He felt it grow roots deep inside, and he knew she was the one who would water the seeds and cause them to grow.