Change in the Weather
Jezyk
Disclaimer: Not mine

Part One

Harold was disappointed. Reese couldn't say he wasn't himself. But despite his boss' insistence that he leave the child and save himself, he couldn't do it. Kirsten was only a few days past her sixth birthday, having had the unimaginable terror of being abducted from her birthday party by a perverted psycho already inflicted on her. Reese couldn't bring himself to unwrap the girl's tiny arms from his neck where they'd been locked ever since he promised her he'd take her home to her mommy.

The problem was that he could hardly drop her off anywhere without arousing suspicion and so he was trapped. Ignoring Harold's pleas, Reese called Fusco. The last thing he wanted to do was get himself locked up and Fusco was the best chance he had. Carter would arrest him as soon as look at him, no matter how many times he'd helped her and, though he didn't hold that against her, he decided Fusco was a better risk. Fusco had a kid, so maybe having rescued yet another one would garner him some brownie points.

What he didn't count on, however, was Fusco's car having a second occupant.

Reese fixed his eyes on Carter, always happy to see her despite the preposterousness of the idea. Then he turned to Fusco and frowned. "I'm disappointed in you, Lionel. Haven't we talked about this?"

Fusco shrugged, though he had the sense to look ashamed. "She was already in the car. You said it was an emergency." He looked around. "This doesn't look like an emergency. You made me drive three hours to give you a ride home, you son of a bitch."

Before Reese had a chance to respond, Carter's voice interrupted, her eyes wide with both anger and surprise. "You two know each other? What the-"

Reese glared at Fusco, who was backing away from both of them. "I didn't say it was an emergency. I said it was important. And I don't need a ride."

Carter, who'd had her hand on her gun the whole time, folded her arms over her chest. "Just what the hell is going on here?"

With a smile, Reese turned back to her. "Lionel and I go way back."

Fusco shook his head, evidently more fearful of Carter than Reese. "He's got me by the balls. I didn't have a choice!"

She unsnapped her holster, pursing her lips and glancing back and forth between the men. "I'm going to shoot one of you. I just haven't decided which one yet."

"If you're looking for suggestions, I'd vote for Lionel." Reese nodded toward the girl who had looked up from where she'd buried her face in his neck. "If you shoot me, I might drop her."

Face twisted in anger and resignation, Carter snapped the holster closed again. "Hell, you already have enough bullet holes." She looked at Fusco. "We'll discuss this later. Hope you weren't counting on your pension." And then her eyes fixed on Reese again. "This your kid?"

Reese shook his head. "This is Kirsten Szymanski."

The detectives' eyes widened. The Amber Alert had gone out almost a week earlier. Everyone in the country was looking for the little green-eyed girl.

Carter's mouth dropped open. "You took her?"

Fusco shook his head. "No way, hurting kids isn't his thing."

Carter stepped forward, speaking to the child in a soft, comforting tone. "Kirsten, I'm a police officer. My name's Jocelyn. I'm here to take you home."

Kirsten sized Carter up for a moment, then shook her head. "John's taking me home." She glanced at Reese. "You promised."

Reese shrugged. "I did promise, detective. And I think she's had enough disappointment recently. She didn't even get to have her birthday cake."

Trying to stave off anything more frightening for the girl, Carter smiled. "I'm sure your mom and dad saved it for you." She turned back to Reese, her voice still soft, her eyes hard. "I'm still going to take you into custody."

Reese smiled. "I'm sure you'll try."

#####

In deference to Kirsten's mental health, the detectives reported that they had found her and were transporting her home. Her parents were understandably grateful, thanking the pair of homicide detectives who returned their child.

The mother, upon spotting Reese in the back of the cruiser, ran over, banging on the window and shouting. "Why did you take my daughter? What did you do to her? You bastard, I'll kill you!"

Reese said nothing, instead being rescued by the precious six-year-old in her father's arms. "That's my friend John, mama. He saved me from the bad man."

Mrs. Szymanski's anger disappeared, immediately replaced by an attempt to get the door open so she could hug him. "Thank you! Thank you so much for saving my baby!"

Fusco looked on with amusement as Reese was declared an angel sent by God. Carter tried to maintain an irritated glare, but it morphed into a smile despite her best efforts. They managed to slip away before the media frenzy that had been following the story caught on to the idea that the child had been found.

Fusco drove a few miles away before he pulled over and demanded Reese get out of the car. When Carter inquired why, Fusco shrugged. "Bastard threw a grenade under my seat first time I had him in custody. I'm not letting it happen again."

Reese put his hands on the roof of the car while Fusco frisked him, pulling two nine millimeter pistols from his belt, as well as his cell phone. "I'm proud of you, Lionel. You're learning."

"Get out of the way, Fusco." Carter sounded annoyed as she shoved her partner to the side. "This guy was CIA; you're going to have to do better than that." She'd patted down a lot of dangerous types in her career both in homicide and in the army. By the time she'd finished, she'd handed Fusco a .22 and a hunting knife Reese had concealed.

Still, she wasn't satisfied. She ordered Reese to turn around and met his eyes. "You got any grenades on you?"

With a smirk, Reese reached into his coat pocket, withdrew a small round canister and handed it to the detective.

She was smiling, against her better judgment, at his audacity. "Is that it? You have anything else on you?"

Reese shook his head.

Mostly out of embarrassment, Fusco grabbed Reese's collar, roughly yanking Reese's coat and suit coat from his shoulders. "I don't trust him."

Allowing the layers to be removed, Reese stood patiently. "I've never tried to kill you, Lionel, which is more than you can say to me."

"You threw a grenade in my car." The detective was flustered, his cheeks growing red. "And you shot me!"

As always, the more upset others grew, the calmer Reese became. "I made sure you were wearing your vest first."

Carter withdrew her cuffs. "Put your hands behind your back. And don't try anything. I will shoot you."

"I know that, detective." Reese stared at her for a moment before he complied, allowing her to lock his hands behind his back.

Carter opened the door, putting her hand on his head as she guided him into the car.

"We should knock him unconscious, Carter."

She glanced at her partner, then seemed to catch on to his reasoning and cocked her head as she met Reese's eyes. "Is that necessary, Mr. Reese?"

"I'd really prefer if you didn't."

And again, she was biting the insides of her cheeks to keep the smile off her face. "Are you going to throw any grenades at us?"

"I don't have any grenades left." He stared at the pair, the picture of docility, his hands cuffed behind him, the jacket that added an imposing width to his frame stripped away.

As angry at herself for being so easily taken in as she was at him, Carter slammed the door. "Let's go, Fusco. Pray to God we get back to the city in one piece."

Fusco grumbled as he tossed Reese's things in the trunk. "I still think we should knock him unconscious."

Carter shrugged as she climbed into the passenger's seat. "That's just going to piss him off."

#####

The snow started to fall just before the sun went down, raising the palpable tension level in the car. Fusco gripped the wheel tightly with both hands and sat up to stare intently out the windshield.

Although the silence had lasted the entire hour they'd been riding, curiosity got the better of Carter. She shifted slightly sideways in her seat, turning her head to face Reese. "Should I ask what happened to the man who took Kirsten?"

He took a deep breath before he looked back at her. "Not unless you want to know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Reese smiled for a moment. "He won't be hurting any more little girls, detective. That's all you need to know."

She nodded slowly. "So you killed him."

"I didn't say that."

Her eyes snapped back to his. "You didn't?"

"I really do try not to kill people. Sometimes they just don't give me a choice."

Fusco scoffed, butting into the conversation. "Oh, well, as long as they're asking for it, that makes it ok."

Reese caught his eyes in the rear view mirror. "They were all bad people, Lionel."

"How did you find Kirsten? How did you manage to catch up to her when all the cops and FBI couldn't figure it out?" She was shifting gears, hoping another tactic might work.

"I'm good at what I do."

"And just what is it that you do?" She had turned almost completely around in her seat, thoroughly engaged in the conversation.

Reese faced her with a blank stare. "I've been interrogated before, detective. I'm not going to give you anything."

"Odds are your CIA friends are going to swoop in and grab you as soon as we book you, so why don't you give us something? You like us better than you like them."

Reese's eyes stared forward, his gaze narrowed and intent on something in the distance. "Do I?"

Fusco laughed. "Sure you do. You haven't tried to kill us yet today."

"Are your seat belts fastened, detectives?" Reese watched at the pair exchanged a glance before both looked at him, Carter directly, Fusco through the mirror.

She spoke up, tugging at her shoulder belt. "Are you threatening us?"

"No, but we're about to be in a crash."

Fusco's eyes widened, glancing between the mirror and his partner. "What the hell?"

"You should keep your eyes on the road, Lionel." Reese nodded forward, drawing their attentions to the road.

A group of deer were amassed on the road, perhaps confused by the snow and early darkness of the winter.

"Jesus!" Fusco shouted while he jerked the wheel to the side. Carter grabbed the dashboard, her body tensing in anticipation. Reese forced his muscles to relax as the car started to slide, knowing tightened muscles would result in far worse injuries for his un-belted body riding between a hard plastic seat and a metal grate.

#####

Luckily, the damage was limited mostly to the car. Fusco and Carter, albeit shaken, were physically ok. Watching Fusco drag his thick frame from the tilted car that had come to rest in a deep ditch along the side of the road was almost funny, except that Carter was well aware that the car wasn't going anywhere any time soon which meant they'd be walking.

With an irritating, dangerous, yet somehow endearing prisoner in tow.

The fact that it was snowing and she was in heels only served to underscore how thoroughly unhappy she was with the situation. Not to mention how disappointed she was with her cell coverage or lack thereof.

The steep angle of the car made it impossible to open her door far enough to slip through it and she wound up having to haul herself up the slanted seat and out Fusco's door. As soon as she was free of the car, she glanced at Reese. He'd been sitting behind Fusco during the ride, but she hadn't hooked his seatbelt when she'd put him in the car, and so when it had fallen into the five-foot-deep ditch, Reese had fallen as well and was pressed against the rear passenger door.

Reese was sore, though he wasn't about to admit it, had a bruised cheek and a thin line of blood ran from a cut on his forehead. He turned his head to look up when Carter pulled the door open.

"John, are you ok?" She hated the concern that she knew was obvious in her voice.

Though it hurt his sore face to do so, he smiled at her. "Are you worried about me, Jos?"

"I don't need a prisoner dying in my custody."

He struggled to slide himself back up towards the open door, but it was impossible given the slippery surface of the plastic seat and his bound hands. "May I have the keys to the cuffs, please?"

She stared at him and shook her head. "Not a chance in hell."

"But I said 'please.'" He paused, waiting even though he knew his quip would have no effect. "Then you'll have to leave me here."

"The hell I will," she growled at him. "Fusco, get over here and help me."

Whining all the time about his sore back and neck, Fusco assisted Carter with dragging Reese from the car. Within seconds of being outside, the wet snow had seeped through his shirt and left him chilled.

"May I have my coat?"

"No." Carter was in no mood to discuss it further because it might indicate how uncertain she was that her search had been good enough. Reese was good, that much was obvious, especially with the way he'd handed over the grenade after she'd checked him as if to taunt her.

She began to walk in the direction they'd been headed. Fusco waited for Reese to follow, but the taller man didn't move. She turned around a moment later, feeling a chill run through her just seeing the man without a coat. "What the hell is taking so long? It's not going to get any warmer if we stand here."

Reese inclined his head in the opposite direction. "The next town is five miles south, but we passed one a couple miles back. It'll be a shorter walk." His eyes dropped to Carter's shoes, not needing to mention that he was well aware of how unprepared she was to walk far.

"How do you know that? You got a psychic gift you want to tell me about?"

Reese sighed. "We just passed a sign a few minutes ago. If you'd been paying attention, you would have seen it."

Carter looked at Fusco, not needing to say a word to reveal how uncertain she was. She didn't have a damn clue where the last town had been and she'd been looking at Reese so she didn't know if he was telling the truth about a sign. Fusco shrugged back; if he'd been paying any fucking attention they wouldn't have crashed in the first place.

Seeing the uncertainty in the pair, Reese tried to reason with them. "I'm the one here without a coat. I won't benefit from lying to you."

Resolve weakened by the shiver that ran through her, she nodded at the trunk. "Get his coat, Fusco."

"Hell no. Guy's probably got a submachine gun in there." He started walking in the direction Carter had originally gone in. "Let's go."

"Fusco," she was still unsure, but she pointed in the direction Reese had suggested. "This way."

Taking it personally, Fusco glared at her. "This guy tried to kill me, you know. You've been chasing him for months. The CIA wants him dead. And you're going to trust him over me?"

"Yeah."

Reese hid a smile. "Smart move, detective."

Frowning, she grabbed Reese's arm. "Don't make me regret this."

There was no legitimate reason for her to hold his arm. He knew it. He was cuffed and the road was covered with snow, so he wasn't running anywhere. Both the detectives were armed and unafraid to shoot him if need be, so he wasn't likely to try overpowering them, certainly not as long as they remained ten feet away from each other. He wasn't being uncooperative either, and even if he were, her delicate hand wrapped around his bicep wasn't going to achieve anything.

She wanted to touch him. It was obvious. He said nothing, simply looked at her for a moment, his eyes dancing. She gazed back, finally swallowing hard before she released his arm. "Go," she said with force and anger.

He chuckled softly as he started walking. As long as he wasn't the only one getting a kick out of it, he'd keep playing. Carter seemed receptive.