AN: Hi, my lovelies, this story grabbed a hold of me one day and refused to release me until I wrote some of this out. It's definitely AU.
This story is a work in progress so the updates will be sporadic, but with how angsty it is maybe it's for the best. Thanks for reading this for me and gave me encouragement to post and for proofing everything for me you are a life savior XD I heart you for everything.
This going to be rated M because it's so dark plus there will be graphic violence, some sensitive material that I'll give warnings before I post the chapter, and smut-maybe :D This is set after the events of 4x13 or my rather my guess at what happens in 4x13.
The lyrics in the summary are to an amazing song by the Digital Daggers called The Devil Within that sort of sets the feel to the story and a summary/title was eluding me.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"You changed my mind, Joss, you changed me."
Joss sat alone in her darkened study, quietly sipping a glass of red wine and reflecting on that night in the morgue as she so often did to keep herself sane. That night was when John cracked his carefully guarded heart open for her, so shyly, so delicately, but so beautifully. He exposed himself to her far more than he had when they slept together days prior to that night in the morgue. No, he had exposed himself emotionally that she was sure, much more then he had done in quite a long time. Ever since the time she met him, when he had been just a homeless man who needed saving, he had been carefully guarding his emotions and heart from the world and from her. She always longed for him to trust her enough to talk to her, show himself to her, and he finally had.
That night in the morgue had been the night she had known that she was in love with John. Moments prior to that time, like Rikers, or when he saved her from her C.I., or saved her son she had been falling ever so slowly in love with him. But that night when he decided to lure HR away using himself as bait she knew she was done for as there was no denying how she felt anymore, no more pretending what she was feeling for him wasn't love. All of that was gone, in one heartbreaking moment as his footsteps sounded off, growing softer as the distance between them grew greater.
Joss gripped the wineglass' stem harsher as unwelcome memories bombarded her, she drank the remaining remnants of the wine, nearly choking on it, before flinging the glass against the brick wall. It shattered into pieces, which mirrored who she currently was, a broken mess. She sat in the leather chair, trying desperately to calm herself, and not recall what had happened after that. She didn't want to remember being shot by Simmons, she didn't want to swim in the bitter memories of the basement she had been held in for months, she didn't want to remember the torture she endured by Decima. She closed her eyes and focused on her son, their happy times together, and prayed it would bring her relief, but her prayers went unanswered because she couldn't banish the painful memories that were threatening to suffocate her.
Joss cried out as she grabbed at her temples willing the images to go away, her eyes squeezed tight, but to no avail she couldn't purge herself of this eternal hell. Flashes scorched her brain forcing her to relive her hell over and over again. So she focused on John; on their brief but passionate time together. She latched onto their first and only night of lovemaking together. It happened days before she was going to take HR down. Joss had just learned who was the head of HR was thanks to Terney, had just come up with the plan of pitting the Russians and HR against one another to help her bring them down when John had come by her place. He had swung by, bringing beers, trying to cheer her up, and she had figured she wasn't going to make it out of the takedown of HR alive. So she acted on something that had been simmering between her and John which neither one was willing to give voice to and she had seduced John.
Joss relaxed her grip on the armrests as she smiled, thinking 'seduction' was a strong term, as John hadn't needed any nudging to act on his feelings for her. She just so happened to be the first to make a move. It had taken all but seconds before he responded to the kiss, taking control over their encounter, and it had been amazing. She was never been made love to in that way before, like she was the only woman in the entire world to him. John had filled her so fully, stretched her so wide. It hadn't been just sex as they both had claimed it was during the awkward morning after. But she had to lie because she didn't think she'd outlive the takedown of HR and she figured John lied to protect his heart. But that night of passion he had shared with her was a side she had not seen from John previously, his playful side.
She opened her eyes as the painful memories receded into a dark corner of her mind and weren't threatening to destroy her. She still trembled like a leaf but she lifted a hand to her cheek finding wetness, she dashed away the tears of anguish and took a calming breath. She hated having those episodes, they came with no warning whatsoever, and if she let them they could destroy her. Nothing ever could calm her down, she tried deep breathing exercises, she tried thinking about her son who she loved more than anything. But during one particular horrific episode she had subconsciously drifted to John, and it was John who had a calming effect on her. Maybe it was because he was quite possibly the only person to be able to understand her pain and help her, or maybe it was because she was in love with him in a far different way than her son. She didn't know what the case may be, but whatever it was, she was grateful that thinking of him during those episodes brought her back to reality.
Decima. Joss felt the terror evaporate as she thought about the people that made her this way, felt her shaking subside as anger burned through her. She was going to make them pay for what they have done to her. Make them experience her hell. Decima had stolen her life and her sanity. She had no doubt that eventually she would have a psychotic break and go crazy, which frightened her, frightened her enough to stay away from her friends and family. Or at least tried to stay away from her family and friends, she thought as she smiled ruefully. She was a low-class stalker with the way she followed her son and John around without their knowledge. She followed her son to his college, on his dates, when he was with his dad or friends, and was glad to see he was happy. Oh sure, she knew he was still grieving for her, he would go to her gravesite once a week just to talk to her, but he was moving on.
But John seemed to be stuck in reverse. The times she followed him, which, if she was honest with herself, was quite a lot more so than her son who was grieving and moving forward, he was back to his devil may care attitude. He let her 'death' change him, which angered and scared her. He was taking careless risks with his life and she couldn't handle it if something happened to that man, she wouldn't survive it. So she had taken her low-class stalking up a notch on him, just to keep watch, making sure he didn't do something stupid that got himself killed. She was half proud and half disgusted of herself over the fact that she bugged his home or rather John Riley's home. It hadn't felt like home to her for John, he belonged someplace else, namely with her. But she had carefully hidden the bug in his bedroom, longing to hear his soft snoring, many nights it had calmed her to find sleep herself that so often eluded her. And she had then placed a small webcam in his tiny bathroom. Her eyes unwillingly closed as his naked image flashed through her consciousness. Was it violating her John's privacy, maybe, but did it matter to her—not one single bit.
"I'm a fucking stalker," she muttered to herself as she reopened her eyes, gazing down at the soft cotton undershirt she had stolen from John's place that same night she installed the bug and camera. She had worked enough stalking cases to know a stalker when she saw one, and she was one, she thought despondently. But she wasn't about to stop following him or her son around, she couldn't, because she didn't have the willpower. They had gotten her through her darkest days, they had been the only things connecting her to this world and she would walk through the fiery depths of hell to find her way back to them.
She slowly rose to her feet, rolling her shoulders as she eyed the shattered glass on the floor; she would clean it up tomorrow morning, not caring. Years prior she would have hurried to clean up but she had a new lease on life, trivial things such as a mess weren't a priority. It would be there tomorrow. She exited her study, padding down the long and quiet hallway, the cold hardwood greeting her bare-feet. She eyed the closed doors but focused on one particular, one that was towards the end of the hall, longing to enter, however she entered the bathroom instead. Joss was itchy to go check in on her, but she needed her rest. Shaw had gunshot wounds to recover from, so did she for that matter, as she gingerly touched her shoulder that had been stitched and bandaged. But she needed Shaw's help in destroying Samaritan and Decima. She flicked the light switch on in the bathroom, sending the soft cool light cascading across her, while the cold black and white squared tile tickled her feet.
Joss smiled at her reflection, curving the scars that marred the left side of her face upwards. It had taken her months to not flinch or react to the hideous markings, she had finally come to terms with her new look, her new self, and her new sense of the world. She wondered if John would find her new scars and new hairdo attractive. Her hair had been a matted mess which no amount of showers and combing could ever untangle. So she had cut it, longer in the front, sweeping bangs, and very short in the back. It curved along with her heart-shaped face, shaping it quite nicely. Then she dyed it a soft honey color. She eyed her scars before she reached up, touching her jagged and reddish flesh. They were still setting, eventually they would turn her skin tone with age. She knew she could have reconstructive surgery but she didn't want that, not now anyway. No, she wanted to use these scars on her face to fuel her fury and need for retribution. She looked away, washing her hands, before brushing her teeth, and exited the bathroom.
She eyed the room she had placed Shaw in, needing to go check in on her petite friend and make sure she was still breathing. She trusted Mila's assurance that Shaw would make it, however until Shaw opened her pretty little eyes Joss was holding her breath. She walked to the room, opening the door as quietly as possible, not wishing to disturb her. She smiled as she found Shaw asleep in the bed still. She tip-toed to where Shaw laid on the large queen-sized mattress, moonlight glowing, giving her a little light to see that she still looked pale but better in the days since they rescued her from Decima's clutches.
Joss felt better since checking on her friend, before she moved to the window off to the side of the room in the darkness and looked out to the New York skyline.
Shaw woke up slowly, feeling like hell. She opened her eyes slowly, before sliding them shut against the brutally bright light. What the fuck? What happened? Shaw snapped her eyes open again, damning the bright light when she remembered vividly being shot several times by the blonde bitch and Decima cronies. Was she dead?
Shaw looked around her surroundings once her eyes adjusted to the light, which was in actuality pretty dim. The only light was coming in from the hallway which was lighting the otherwise dark room. Shaw found herself lying on a soft bed with blankets covering her. She eyed the room in disdain. Shaw groaned as she wiggled to get up, yep she definitely wasn't dead because death sure the hell wouldn't hurt this bad.
"Welcome back to the world of the living," Shaw froze when a soft whisper echoed across the room she was in, making her realize she wasn't alone in the room. Shaw looked around finding a silhouette in the corner of the darkened room. Shaw blinked a few times trying to make out the figure; judging by the size of the silhouette Shaw would say it was feminine. It wasn't Root, this figure wasn't tall enough and the whisper she didn't readily recognize though it did tug at her.
Shaw tensed even though her muscles screamed in agony. She felt like her head was swimming by just moving an inch. "Who the hell is there?" Shaw demanded. A haunted chuckle sounded. Shaw gulped wondering if perhaps she was actually dead and this was her hell. Damn it, she couldn't even catch a break in hell!
"You don't remember me?" the voice purred.
Shaw blinked her eyes, seeing a silhouette in the dark. "How about you cut the shit and show yourself?" Shaw commanded of the figure that was whispering and laughing at her.
"I always did enjoy your boldness and directness," the voice grew bolder, louder, and even more recognizable. "You're struggling to remember, I must not have made a memorable impression on you, Shaw," the voice said, speaking just above a whisper. She swallowed hard as she now easily recognized the voice, but it couldn't be. Shaw stared in shock as the woman exited the shadows, moonlight glowing across her face as she came face to face with a long dead friend. "Then again it could be because I'm supposed to be dead." She said with a soft tilt of the head.
"Carter?" she breathed as she eyed the woman before her. The figure leaned over beside her, turning a lamp on, and Shaw stared. Yep, the woman looked and sounded like Carter, but the woman before her was definitely different from the Carter she remembered. The Joss Carter she recalled had long dark hair, bright brown eyes, and a ready smile. This one had short and soft honeyed dyed hair, no light in her dulled eyes, half her face was marred with scar tissue, and the grin that was on her face appeared more sad rather than happy.
"You do remember me, although I'm quite different from who I was," she assured Shaw softly as she sat down beside her hip on the bed. "Are you alright, Sam?"
"How?" Shaw wondered out loud.
Joss smiled, curving the scars on her left side of her face upwards. "How are you alive or how I am alive?" she asked. Something was up with the woman that was sitting before her, but Shaw couldn't quite place her finger on it.
"A little of both actually," Shaw admitted, lying back, having no energy to remain upright. "Reese held you while you died in his arms." The moment she brought up John, a swift change shuddered across Carter's face and it wasn't easily readable so Shaw continued on. "There was a service, Carter; they laid you to rest, I was there."
She smiled. "Did you see a body?"
"Well no."
"That's because I woke up weeks after my supposed death, under lock and key with Decima. They saved my life. I met a very unfortunate man named Greer and he told me I was saved merely for information and leverage."
"Information?"
Carter nodded. "I had information on you guys, on John specifically, and he wanted it. Leverage because he knew how John felt about me and how I felt about him. I guess the old bastard was watching us before he seized his opportunity in apprehending me."
Shaw swallowed hard. She had always sort of wondered if there was something going on between Reese and Carter, but Reese wouldn't cop to it. He pretended they were just friends. Now it made sense why Reese went bonkers after she supposedly died.
"Was there anything worth watching, Carter?"
Carter laughed. "Is that your way of asking if anything happened between John and me, Shaw?" she questioned and she shrugged. "Yes, John and I had a sexual encounter prior to my supposed death."
Her jaw dropped open. "When?!" Shaw couldn't believe it, they had a secret fling that she didn't know about! She had prided herself on learning everything about John.
"I guess John and I did a bang up job of hiding it from you nosy people." She sounded triumphant. "John and I had a nice little….union before I took down HR."
Shaw beat the mattress with her fist. "How come I didn't hear anything with my bug on him?" she griped.
Carter laughed softly. "Oh, you mean the bug I found on John and left downstairs?"
"Damn you Carter!" Shaw felt shitty, but she couldn't even describe how glad she was that Carter was back from the dead. She had missed this woman so much. "So you and Reese huh, I guess it was more than just sex for him, which makes sense why he went bananas after you died…or supposedly died." Shaw could tell it was the wrong thing to say because Carter's softening look turned dark.
"I'll rectify that pain for him soon enough," Carter assured her darkly.
Shaw decided a change of subject was in need because Carter looked scary right now. "So, uh, what happened to me?" she asked as she found herself unable to move around much. She recalled being shot, but otherwise everything else was fuzzy.
"That's a long story and requires me telling you what happened to me to actually tell you your story of how I saved you."
Shaw opened her mouth to demand that she lay it on her, but there was a knock on a door. Shaw turned and watched as the door opened and a woman stood there. "Carter, you in here?"
"Come in," Carter smiled as she motioned for her to enter. Shaw watched as the woman did as requested. "Mila, this is who you helped save, my friend Shaw." Shaw eyed the tall red-head with deep set green eyes, and four tiny to slightly bigger star tattoos going from her right eye going diagonally up to her hairline. This woman was pretty with full red hair that draped to the middle of her forearms and curly. Shaw took in the bare midriff that was littered with scars and a tattoo of some sort of symbol. The woman was tall, approximately six feet, and she was muscular, but still managed to carry a feminine figure.
"I'm Mila, boss saved my life," the red head said with a look to Carter, a soft smile on her face. "And I'll do anything for her." Joss sighed as she waved her off.
"Boss?" Shaw leaned back and moaned. "So what is it that you do, Carter?" she questioned.
"Simple, what you guys do, save the world on a daily basis," she supplied. "Envision Mila as a taller version of you, and me as Root," she added; Shaw grimaced when Root was mentioned. Shaw hoped she was alright, she knew without a shadow of a doubt how Root felt about her. She had only kissed her to shut her up, to get her to let her go, and maybe there was a little part of her that sort of, kind of, maybe liked Root too. But when she got back, she would never let Root in on that fact. They just wouldn't work.
Then what Carter said struck her. "Wait, you work cases?"
"Yes," Carter assured before standing up. "You need rest, Shaw; we'll discuss everything later, but right now you need to heal."
"No I'm fine, I need answers. Carter you have been dead to us for over a year, what the hell happened during that time that you couldn't come back to us? You let Reese believe you were dead!" Shaw demanded accusatorially. She had to keep Reese from killing himself because he loved this woman and all this time she was alive!
Shaw watched as Carter's eyes darkened as she turned more fully towards her. Mila looked down. "Do not judge me, Shaw, you do not have any right, you have no idea what I went through. Decima took me, tortured and tormented me for months until they made one fatal error." Shaw stared up into Carter's dark gaze, seeing no warmth or friendliness there.
"And what error was that?" Shaw asked quietly, not wanting to upset her any more than she was already. She didn't know what happened to Carter, but judging by the scars, the change in her attitude, she must have been through something horrific.
"They implanted me with a chip that allowed me to access Samaritan at will, they wanted to see if it was even possible and if it was possible, could the human agent function. Well it was a success, it was implanted and it's functional. I know everything that Samaritan knows, which in effect makes for better agents for Decima and Samaritan." Shaw swallowed hard.
"So you were like the guinea pig?"
"Yes, you can say that, but what they didn't figure is that I would use that knowledge that I had access to, to escape. And I escaped eight months ago, been planning my revenge on Samaritan and Decima since then, and been watching John and my son as well as helping people along the way."
Shaw waited a breath, taking everything in, knowing that Carter was leaving a shit ton of stuff out but she wasn't interested in the colorful details anyway, not right now anyway. Only one thing needed to be asked and answered. "Why didn't you come back to us?" she left out the accusatory tone this time and focused on getting an answer that she needed.
"Because I needed to remain dead to do what needs to be done," she said simply.
Shaw eyed her. "And that is?"
"Burn Decima to the ground," Carter explained. "Have you heard of Athena?"
"A little," Shaw admitted, thinking back, which was growing harder to do as her body was yearning for sleep. "Reese and Fusco were working in conjunction with the FBI trying to solve those Athena cases. Athena is a serial killer that leaves calling cards on all their victims prior to murdering them. Before I died or almost died, Root said that all of the murder victims were Decima agents…." Shaw paused as her eyes widened. "No freaking way, you're Athena?"
"Yes, me and Mila are Athena, we are taking out high-ranking Decima agents using what Decima gave me; Samaritan." Carter explained with a tap to her temple. "Don't worry I'm the only walking monster they have because, before I escaped I took their plans with me, so they can't formulate another chip for another human agent unless I desire to give it back, which I don't."
"Carter, it's not like you to murder people."
Carter eyed her darkly. "That's because the Joss Carter you knew died in John's arms. I'm not the same woman I was before, I can never be her ever again." Carter's eyes welled up with tears. Shaw felt like she was on a see-saw because one minute Carter looked like a walking dead woman and the next she was on the verge of tears. "I'm not a good woman anymore, Shaw; I've lied, stolen about five million dollars to finance my operation, I've murdered, and sinned since being free from my hell. Am I proud of myself? No, but it is necessary in winning this war against Decima. Athena doesn't take prisoners, it just doesn't work that way against Decima."
Shaw nodded her head. "I actually agree with that assessment; Decima needs to stopped by any means necessary and it doesn't mean they get to live their lives out in prison. But why are you changing your code of honor, Carter?"
"Reason being because I realized that there will never be just good or bad, black and white; no the world is shaded in gray and that there are no good people, just good decisions. And the best decision, the right decision is to destroy Decima."
"And what about John, if Joss Carter is dead where does that leave you guys?"
She smiled. "Joss Carter may be dead but my love for him isn't; John and my son are what kept me breathing, and no one will take them from me ever." Carter promised and Shaw yawned, still weak from her wounds. "Now you need to get some rest so you can heal up and help me stop these bastards once and for all." Carter said before turning to leave the room with Mila in tow. Shaw unwillingly fell back asleep with real worry that this Joss Carter was going to get herself truly dead this time.
"Why are you here?"
That was a good question, with no answer forthcoming. Root had no idea why she had sought him out of all people. Quite possibly to lash out at him, to assuage the certain amount of guilt she felt for what happened, or to be in his quiet presence who had gone through something so similar as to what she was dealing with just now. Root wasn't sure why she was on John's doorstep after they had searched for Shaw leading to dead ends, after they had tortured and tormented as many people as they could in their desperate search for her, but she was. She and John had arrived back from their road trip in search of Shaw just this afternoon, tomorrow he had to get back to work in the NYPD as he was out of paid time off, and she felt like she lost her only helper in finding Shaw. Harold was working cases with Fusco, everyone was already moving on from what happened to Shaw, like it was business as usual. John stood before her with glazed eyes, a beer in hand, lines of tension etched in his handsome face, and stood in an undershirt and his dress pants.
He was aching over what happened to Shaw as much as she was, however, in a very different way. Shaw was the yin to her yang, while she had no doubt that John valued Shaw in the field and as a friend. That friend was missing, the woman that came to mean so much to her was gone, and Root didn't know how to react. SHE offered no help, offered no words of wisdom or offered any condolences, but rather SHE was keeping quiet, allowing Root to muddle through her pain and anguish because SHE had no idea how to help for once. SHE was an A.I., and felt that Root needed human interaction not HERS, but all Root wanted was Shaw.
"Root…" he tried and gained her attention. "Why are you here?" he asked again.
She shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "But every time I close my eyes I see hers, I see Martine looming over her, and…." Her voice grew rough so she stopped. She didn't want to be this vulnerable in front of him. She cleared her throat. "….and I don't want to be alone."
He stepped back to allow her inside his place, his eyes were mistrusting as always, and dubious of her motives but she didn't care. She didn't care that she was jealous of this man's relationship with Harold, she didn't care about his palpable mistrust of her, and she didn't care that they shared absolutely nothing in common except for the fact that they were human. She just didn't want to be alone and he had known this same feeling as she was currently dealing with. He had lost his detective just as she had lost Sameen. Harold offered nothing but empty platitudes, as did Lionel. John hadn't. John hadn't offered her anything except for a quiet presence and help in their search for Shaw.
Root watched him as he shut the door, before moving in his tiny apartment towards the kitchen. John Riley's place was a far cry from what she was sure John had prior thanks to Harold. He opened the fridge before pulling out a beer, handing it to her. "If we are going to be sharing more company together, we need drinks," he explained. Neither one of them went out of their way to spend time with one another, John was water while she was oil, and they just didn't mix. But that hadn't stopped them from working quite well together during these last few days. Root snapped the cap off, the bottle cap bounced on the tiled floor with a soft metallic sound, and she gulped down the much needed alcohol.
"Why wasn't it me?" she wondered out loud after several tense moments of silence. "Or you, why did it have to be her?"
"I wish it was me," he whispered before taking some much needed alcohol in himself.
"So do I." Root agreed, finding something to attack instead of feeling grief, even if attacking the only person that understood her pain wasn't exactly intelligent. She just didn't want to feel this pain anymore. "Had you just done it, she would be here still, and you were already injured anyways!" She paused as he stared into her eyes but she didn't see anger just resolution. He agreed with everything she said and it burned through her. She wanted to fight something, with someone, wanted fury to build between them, so she could focus on that instead of what she was supposed to do now that Shaw was gone. Or focus on the suffocating feeling that was threatening to choke all the oxygen from her.
"Well at least we agree on something. It's a first for everything, I guess," John said quietly as he turned to walk away from her. He always managed to have the last word, always managed to make her feel angry because he was supposed to be the helper monkey and not be quite so observant or intelligent. He just wouldn't fit into the mold she wanted him to! She followed him into his living room where he was staring out the rectangular window. "It's never me," he whispered, this time his voice sounded rough, and all fight fled her. He truly wished he had sacrificed himself rather than Shaw. "Because I'd get to be with her, instead of living without her." And suddenly Root felt like she was intruding on him.
"How am I supposed to go on?" she questioned. John turned from the window to eye her with an unreadable mask on his emotions. "How am I supposed to do this without her?" Root loathed the burning sensation in the backs of her eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay not about to cry in front of him.
"You're asking the wrong person; I don't know the answer to that as I have never been very good at moving on," he admitted.
She let out a humorless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Well at least you didn't tell me 'time heals all' like Harold and Lionel did."
He snorted. "Time doesn't heal all, no, time just dulls the pain you feel, making it more livable," he remarked, and judging by the finality of that statement, John knew all about it.
Root craved to know that she could feel something besides the all-encompassing pain she currently was drowning in. "Has it become more livable for you since your detective has been gone over a year now?"
John stared at her. "No, but then again it never will, Root, because I will never believe I deserve to be alive instead of her. Joss died to protect me and for that I hated her for quite a while." Root felt like she was looking in a mirror with this man. He felt the same things as she did. Shaw died to protect her and them, and she hated Shaw for that.
"Did you love Detective Carter?" She had a feeling he did by the way he had gone on a homicidal rampage to get to Quinn and Simmons. John's blue gaze clashed with her brown one. He looked ready to tell her to get out, he had enough of sharing, but he didn't.
John swallowed hard. "Yes, and I always will," he said thickly, rather reluctantly, as if he wasn't quite sure why he was telling her the truth, but was doing it anyway. "She's the reason I do everything now."
"What do you mean?"
"She's the reason I came back to the team, the reason I continue because I know that she would want me to. Joss would want me to help save the numbers, would want me to continue protecting those who needed protecting just as she selflessly had done for many years prior to me ever meeting her. She died to save me, I will not let her death be in vain," he said before turning away. He was done talking about Joss. She was a touchy subject for him and he was not willing to say anything more. He was still raw about what happened to Shaw and dredging up painful memories was like cutting himself open.
Root nodded, feeling pretty much the same way as he was, without realizing it. "Thank you for not slamming the door in my face." He turned to eye her sharply. He watched as she set her beer down on his coffee table. She wanted to be alone, needing to think things over. Mull over what John had told her.
"Root," he called out, and she paused from leaving. She turned to look back at him, finding he had not moved away from the window, but was looking at her.
"What, John?"
"We'll get them, for Shaw," he promised.
A ghost of a smile graced her lips. "I know," she agreed before turning and leaving. John turned to look back out the window, before holding out his beer in a toast to Shaw, before guzzling the last bit of it down.
AN: I hope you guys are ready for intense angst because this story is very dark and angsty but will have a happy ending eventually once we muck through all the pain to get there. But getting to write a story where I get to delve into Joss Carter's psyche and what would happen to her if this had happened to her was too good to pass up.
Also there is going to be Shoot, but this story is going to be heavily centered on Careese with flecks of Shoot sprinkled in and I know some of my fellow Careesers don't care for Shaw or Root much, but I promise to warn you guys if there is a lot of Shoot so they can skip ahead if they prefer not to read them.
Thanks for reading XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX