A/N Thank you to Wolfmusic for being an awesome beta. Hope you enjoy the story.

***Disclaimer ~ I do not own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

He didn't wake up with a headache. In fact, in the last few months while being a narcotics detective and now working in homicide, Reese prided himself with being able to get up in the mornings without the heaviness that accompanied a night that'd been filled with far too many drinks. No, he didn't wake up with a hangover, but there was a feeling in his chest that he couldn't seem to shake.

He got dressed, put on his suit and he descended the stairs of the apartment building that John Riley now lived in. A three floor walk up in Manhattan. His loft on Baxter Street had been vacant for a while. Truthfully, his new surroundings fit his life, his mood, and the unique circumstances that he, Finch, and Shaw found themselves in after Samaritan came online. After he returned from Italy and resumed work with the numbers, he found that coming home to the empty space only reminded him of how alone he was. Alone. Without her. Without Joss.

Joss.

That's what it was, he thought as his feet finally hit the pavement outside. Today marked a year since she'd been gone. Tears stung his eyes immediately, longing assaulted his senses, and he felt the emptiness he'd tamped down for months start to rise. Passing a street vendor, he shelled out money for a bouquet of flowers. Something bright and pretty like her. He'd finally visit her grave; he'd take her the flowers she always deserved.

When he got to the cemetery, it was quiet. The morning was early yet and nobody'd ventured through its gates. Except for him. He hadn't been able to visit before, hadn't wanted to face the permanency of her death. Sitting at her desk opposite Fusco in the precinct allowed him to still feel close to her in a way. He could pretend that he was just keeping her seat warm for her while she was gone. As he approached her grave, the memories of that fateful night became clear once more. She was in his arms again, trembling with pain. She was so small and fragile as he'd held her. So tiny and weak.

"Joss."

He uttered her name as he crouched low and laid the flowers near her headstone. God he missed her so much. He missed the way she'd say his name. Missed the way she'd roll her eyes when she was through with him and fed up. He missed the smile that came to her lips when they shared a tender moment. He missed her so much that it still hurt all this time later.

He didn't wipe at the tears that fell unchecked from his eyes. Didn't care that they stained his cheeks as he trailed his finger over the lettering of her name. He closed his eyes thinking of the kiss he allowed himself to take in the morgue. The words that he should have spoken long ago. Time had been wasted and now it was too late. But he'd never forget the tenderness in her eyes, the promise of a new beginning when she came to get him from the Third. He knew he was in trouble the moment she sat down on the top of the desk in front of him. He wanted to begin again, and she was ready to begin again too.

"I miss you."

He straightened up, feeling the breeze of a cool wind as it brushed over him and looked up. He felt almost as if she was watching over him. Captain Lynch had called him Carter's guardian angel once. He liked to think that now she was the one watching over him. He wiped his face as the intrusive sound of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Impatiently he answered, and the drone of the Machine's voice was on the other end. After weeks, he was being given a new number.

He whispered a goodbye, turned, and made his way to the precinct. Fusco was already there, a stack of files in his hand, and he peered over the rim of his glasses. After his visit to the cemetery what he wanted was a stiff drink. Instead, Reese settled for the cup of coffee in his hand. He sat down behind Carter's desk, a little more solemnly than usual, and felt a little more at peace being in her spot.

"Good morning, Detective Riley."

"Morning, Lionel."

"You doing okay?"

He finally made eye contact with his new partner, realizing that he must have remembered her too. Reese pursed his lips together and nodded. He would always miss her, always regret not being able to save her, but he felt as if he was truly okay. At least for now.

"Thanks."

Fusco nodded his head, the only other acknowledgement of today that he would give. For that, Reese was grateful. He and Fusco both turned to their phones then, Fusco for a case and he placed a call to Finch.

"Professor Whistler."

"Detective."

"I have a number I would like you to look into for me," he said, quietly. "Got it this morning."

Finch had been reluctant to give much assistance for the last number they'd protected. His unwillingness to help out this time was still evident by how long he paused before he asked Reese to go ahead with it.

"I have class until noon. I should be able to get you the information you need by 1pm."

"Thank you, Harold."

He looked up as Fusco walked over.

"Triple homicide in Washington Heights. We gotta go."

The morning wore on and Reese watched the coroners take the bodies away. Three young men, victims of a drive-by. There was a bunch of onlookers but Reese doubted they'd get a witness. He and Fusco worked the crowd; he gave out his card, took verbal statements. He recognized one of the victims. Peter Sanderson. He was a young kid who'd just gotten in with the wrong crowd. Peter was twenty-two years old and was interested in making a name for himself. He'd started working as a soldier for Adam Horvat, one of the leaders of a Croatian syndicate. Reese had run into him a few times while he was in Narcotics. There'd be no name-making now.

He took the gloves off his hands, wiping his brow, and felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

"I have the information you were asking about, Detective."

"What's the matter, Harold?" Reese asked, hearing a hint of concern in Finch's voice.

"I suggest you get over here as quickly as possible."

He left Fusco to handle the rest of the investigation; there wasn't much else they could do until the ME had submitted their reports anyway. He needed to get across town and find out what had Finch so shaken.

The tunnels to the old subway station provided the camouflage they needed to work in secret. Under these passageways, he was safe from the watchful eye of Samaritan. The surveillance cameras no longer worked and there was nothing here in the subway car that could provide Samaritan any way to track what they were doing or scrutinize their activity. Behind the monitors, he found Finch running a number sequence over and over.

"I keep getting the same name over and over again, but it can't possibly be right."

"Whose number came up?" Reese asked, as he stood beside Finch.

Harold shook his head as the photograph flashed across the screen once more. Finch waved at the screen. "This is what I'm talking about."

They both stared at a photo of Joss Carter.

"Joss?" Reese asked, turning to Finch. "Why would it give us her number?"

He knew she was dead, had mourned her, had visited her grave just this morning, still his heart hammered in his chest. What did it mean?

"I guess that's what we have to figure out, Detective."

Reese watched Finch tape Carter's photo to the subway car glass, stared at it feeling almost like he was being haunted. "What are you trying to tell us, Joss?" he whispered. "I'm going to go to her house, Finch. Look around, see what I can find. You do the same here."

He didn't wait for a reply but exited the car suddenly feeling annoyed, angry even, that the Machine didn't think to give them her number while she was alive. Before Simmons had shot her. But what was it trying to tell them? What did it want them to possibly do now?

He took a taxi to Brooklyn, got off in Carter's old neighbourhood, and stood across the street. He'd come here right after he'd regained consciousness in the safe house. Still in pain, still feeling her devastating loss, it was the first place he'd thought to come after she'd died. He'd sat on her bed and thought about putting a bullet into his head that morning. Staring at her front door, he couldn't help but think how emotional he felt just being there.

As he crossed over and walked up the front steps, his hand trembled as he worked the lock, picking it. The house had been empty for a while and he was glad that vandals hadn't broken in to damage anything. The alarm was activated and his fingers moved over the key-pad, surprised that he still remembered the code.

He walked from room to room while memories flashed through his mind. Thoughts of the times he spent with her in her living room, her kitchen. They were all moments that he wished he could relive again. Moments he would never get back. He felt fresh tears sting his eyes once more, felt a lump in his throat. He had no idea what he was looking for, but the emptiness in the house only made him wish to see her face again.

He let himself out, feeling more like he was fleeing the house, as though he was running away from what he couldn't face. He went back to the precinct determined to get caught up in work and picked up a pile of mail that was left on his desk all addressed to Detective John Riley. He leafed through the envelopes one by one, sorting them by importance. The last envelope was addressed to Joss. Her name was spelled out in bold black letters. It was a magazine subscription, dated just this month: Ebony. He looked at the woman on the cover, the lettering above her name, thinking of Joss looking through the pages.

"Fusco," he called out.

"What?"

He held the magazine up in his hand, waving it at Lionel. "Carter still getting mail here?"

"Every now and again something'll cross her desk, yeah."

"Anyone ever come to collect it?"

"Not anyone I know in particular. I do know that the Captain usually gets 'em. Where she sends 'em off to, you'd have to ask her."

At the moment, the Captain was out of town. Rita Torres was tough, played everything by the rules. She was worlds apart from Fusco's old boss who'd happened to be one of HR's members and had gotten scooped up when Donnelly had made that huge bust a few years ago. Pity he wasn't still here, Reese thought. He might have been able to get the forwarding information from him with a little persuasion. Reese called Finch instead, asking him to access Torres' computer to see if he could locate an address. It didn't take him long and within a half hour he sent him the location of a house in Montauk. That was about a two and a half hour drive away.

Reese looked at his watch checking the time. It was just after 2:30pm. If he left now, he could make it there by 5:30pm at the latest. He put his jacket back on and got up.

"You going somewhere, Riley?" Fusco asked.

"I'm following up on a lead. I probably won't be back for the evening. You can work without supervision can't you, Lionel?" he teased. As he walked away, Fusco's laughter sounded in his ears.

He took one of Finch's cars. The drive did nothing to calm his nerves or help him figure out who it was that was receiving Carter's mail. Was it a relative? Someone who'd stolen her identity and was living as her? What did the Machine want? Was this person a threat to Taylor? Guilt pricked him. Pricked him hard. He had yet to check up on him as Carter had asked. He couldn't. He'd been too selfish, too caught up in his own pain to visit Carter's son. He wondered if it'd be too late to do it now. Maybe late was better than never.

By the time he got to Montauk the colour of the sky was already changing. The sun was lower and would set soon. He passed the bicycle rental shops, the centre of town, and soon the lighthouse came into view in the distance. When he got to the address, he stopped the car at the curb instead of pulling into the driveway. The entire neighbourhood was quiet. There were some small children two yards over playing in the grass as a man watched them from the front porch, but besides them no one else was outside. It was a two-story Victorian style home, painted pale blue with white trim. It had a wrap-around porch that led to a verandah on the left side and a pathway to a beach in the back of the house. There were no cars parked out front, and he wondered if anyone was home.

Reese climbed up the steps and rang the doorbell. He could hear it echo throughout the house and when no one answered, he rang it again. Another minute passed. When there was still no response, he walked around the porch to the side, looking through the windows trying to catch a glimpse of someone. The sound of the surf in the back filled his ears and he turned his head to gaze at the water. Seagulls called to each other, a warm breeze blew and he descended the steps that led to the back yard. A pebbled walkway eventually blended into sand and he stepped onto it, getting closer to the water. He looked in both directions searching for someone, anyone, a reason why the Machine led him here and his eyes rested on a woman in the distance. He couldn't make her out clearly. But she stood near a fenced-in yard laughing with a man nearby.

He contemplated breaking into the house and turned to go back to the yard but something stopped him. He turned around. The woman was heading in his direction and he squinted the closer she got. He walked toward her, the back of his neck tingling, hair standing on edge, heart beating fast. Who was she?

His long legs were closing the gap between them quickly and when he could finally see her face he could hardly believe it. He shook his head, feeling too scared to believe it. His mouth went dry, his jaw tensed, when he finally stood in front of her.

"Joss?" He stared at her in disbelief, feeling paralyzed for a moment. "Joss?" he repeated. She looked up at him her eyes widening, shining with tears that started filling them. She couldn't believe he was here either. "Joss," he called her name again, reaching out to touch her face. Was she even real? Did he get drunk, pass out somewhere and was he hallucinating right now? If he was, he didn't want to wake up. Not anymore.

She covered his hand with hers, a nervous smile crossing her face. "It's me, John."

Without another word he pulled her into his arms in a crushing embrace. "God." He couldn't believe it. He felt joy, he felt peace, and hope and every good thing he'd ever experienced since he'd met her, start to fill him, replacing the sadness that had run down into his bones since she'd been gone. He felt as if he'd been given another chance and he didn't want to let her go. Couldn't, even though he knew he was holding her too tight.

He felt her arms go around his waist, felt her holding onto him. He'd missed her. So much. And even though he showed no signs of letting her go, she didn't protest. She didn't fight it. She just let him hold her, knowing it was what they both needed. When he finally pulled back a little, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead but his hands remained on her shoulders. He didn't want to break any physical contact; he just had to be near her.

"John." She called his name quietly as he looked at her. He traced the sides of her face, her eyebrows, thumbed her cheeks. He wondered if she was even real.

"John, come on. Let's go inside."

Carter took his hand, leading him back toward the house and they entered it through the back door. She felt his fingers tighten around hers, felt the urgent energy that began to wrap around the both of them. She'd missed this man so much. She'd been in isolation for a year now. She'd had to lie to her family, her son, her coworkers knowing they'd mourned her. But she'd had to. She thought about Taylor and how hurt and lost he would've been without his mother. Thought about her mom and wondered if she was lonely. She thought about Fusco at the precinct working opposite her desk; about Finch, and even Shaw, every now and again. But John? She thought about John every single day.

She thought about that fateful night when they were in the morgue with Quinn. She thought about the words he'd said to her, that kiss and how surprised she was by it. She shouldn't have been, but feelings weren't something they ever talked about. They never discussed things. And besides, he'd had Zoe. She'd been caught up with finding Cal's murderer. What was she supposed to think would happen between them? But when she lay in his arms and the cold hand of unconsciousness wrapped itself around her, she heard the sound of his whimpers and knew everything he'd said to her in the morgue was real.

She'd died.

She didn't know how long it'd been for, but her heart had definitely stopped. She woke up in a hospital bed and had been told that they'd revived her in the ambulance. Her new Captain had come to see her and together they agreed that after Simmons' escape, and with the HR case still pending, it was best to let everyone think she was, in fact, still dead. It hadn't been easy. She'd cried for weeks afterward, feeling guilty for lying, missing her son, wanting to go to him and tell him she was alright. But she couldn't. Simmons was still out there and who knew who else would come to finish the job he'd started?

Her life was still in danger.

So she'd entered WITSEC. She'd gone into hiding. And until the trial was over, this was where she had to be. They'd told her that Simmons had been killed; none of his lower level officers in HR knew who the head boss was. And with nothing much to gain, none of them were talking. Fusco had had the key to the safety deposit box stolen when Simmons had taken him. The deal she'd made with Yogorov was falling apart in the wake of her death. Everything was a mess. The Man in the Suit wouldn't be a credible witness to the incidents that took place at the dead judge's house. She was the only person left who could put Quinn away with her testimony. Soon she would have to testify. She'd have to face him again, and then face everybody else she'd lied to. She didn't count on John finding her first. She didn't count on him coming here.

He'd held onto her on the beach as if he couldn't believe it was her. It was understandable. She couldn't believe it was him walking toward her on the sand either. She'd never been in his arms that way before. But it'd felt good. It felt good after being alone for so long to be held by the man who meant so much to her. And he still meant a lot to her. She'd had time to think over the last year, to think about what had been building between them from the very beginning. With each passing day she longed to see him more and more. Longed to hear his voice. She even missed the way he'd get on her last nerve but still find a way to make her smile in the end.

She just missed him.

And now he was in the kitchen with her, following her to the living room. She knew they had to talk. Knew they needed to talk about so many things. But she just wanted him to hold her right now. Even though they hadn't established a thing. She didn't know where his head was right now or even if he was with someone.

"How?" she heard him ask. Her back was turned to him, staring at the car parked in front of the yard. He'd driven here to find her.

"How, Joss? I watched you die. In my arms." His voice broke as he spoke, shook with every word he uttered. "I was…"

She closed her eyes, hearing his footsteps approach. "I'm sorry, John. I couldn't tell you, I couldn't come to you, I just…"

She felt his arms around her waist drawing her close. There was nothing but need in his touch. And there was nothing but need within her.

"I was lost without you. For so long. I didn't know…who I was anymore."

The raw hurt in his voice did her in, the agony he was trying to convey so palpable, it went right through her. Maybe he needed her to explain. Soon there would be time for words, but in this moment she didn't think any of them were necessary. Maybe she could show him instead.

She turned in his arms and the open look of want was there in his eyes. She felt caught up in it, felt it pour over her and it spoke to the latent feelings inside her own heart. She touched his face, drawing it closer to hers and she kissed him, hesitantly at first, and then she opened her lips under his. Months of loss poured out between them. Months of missing and longing was laid out and consumed. She felt him cup the back of her neck, felt him pulling her closer. She grabbed at the lapel of his jacket with one hand while the other travelled underneath it to rest on his chest.

"Come with me," she told him when their lips finally parted. "Come with me."

She took his hand and led him to the staircase. He put his hand around her waist and her stomach clenched as she felt his fingers splayed over it. She told herself to breathe. Told herself to breathe slowly. But her body was tingling, responding to him so strongly she couldn't control it. The staircase seemed to go on forever and when they reached the top, she led him into the door immediately opposite it.

The windows were open, and the curtains blew forward as a strong breeze came through the window. Reese looked around, taking in the size of the room, noticed the sofa, the vanity, the large closet, but his eyes finally rested on Carter once again.

When she'd kissed him, it was more than what he'd hoped for. Nothing at all what he'd imagined coming here. But her kiss made him giddy, heavy with desire, and he wanted to show her how much he cared about her, how much he needed her. He wanted to quell the uncertainty she seemed to feel. But more than that, he wanted to drown in the sensations that she was evoking in him.

Her hands moved over his chest and he bent his head to kiss her lips again. She moaned softly as their tongues touched, as his hands roamed her back and pulled her closer to feel what was growing between his legs. His fingers moved under the thin straps of her dress and he drew them down over her arms. Slowly he pulled them lower, moving the fabric to her waist, and eventually it fell to the floor. She pulled at his jacket and rid him of it, as well as his shirt underneath. The soft touch of her lips on his chest caused him to shiver and when she snaked her tongue out to run it over his nipples it drove him wild. It had been so long since he'd felt a woman's touch. So long since he'd felt desire like this course through his veins. Now he wanted all of her. Everything she was, body and soul. He'd meant to control the pace of their lovemaking, he'd meant to take the lead, but he was the one who was trembling. He was the one who was on the verge of losing control. He was hard. Hard as a rock and the fleeting touch of her hands against his pulsing erection was pure agony.

She sent fire through him.

He had to pull it back.

He kissed the tender skin near her ears, ran his tongue along her earlobe. Tenderly he touched his lips there as Joss squirmed in his arms. His fingers played along her spine and she drew his lips to hers once more. In an instant, she felt the tables turning. In an instant, when his lips touched hers, she felt the transfer of heat between them. He sucked greedily at her mouth, his lips demanding and strong. And everything he sought to take, she readily gave up.

She could feel liquid heat pooling between her thighs. She wanted him. Wanted to taste him, feel him, wanted to be underneath him while he moved inside her. She loosened his belt buckle and unzipped his pants. When there was no further barrier between them, when they'd both rid the other of the last of their clothing, they looked at each other.

His eyes swept over her as she gazed back at him. She touched the scars on his torso, the one on his collar bone, and traced the discoloured scar from the bullet that'd gone straight through his left shoulder. There was sheer vulnerability in his eyes as if he was nervous about the mars on his skin. Taking his hand, she raised it to the scar left behind by Simmons in a moment that would forever bind them together. Looking back at him with the same insecurity in her eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief as he bent his head to kiss it.

Then she was in his arms.

He was holding her again and took her over to the bed. His mouth became busy placing kisses everywhere. He parted her legs, and as he took one nipple into his mouth and began to suck, she felt him slip a lone finger inside her. She arched her back and he slid it in again. Over and over as he flicked his tongue oh so sweetly over her nipple. She could barely breathe, she could barely manage to whisper his name. It left her mouth as a ragged moan. She was almost ready to explode. And yet…

Another finger.

She felt so tight on his fingers, her nipples so soft in his mouth. He tasted the next one, enjoying the soft feel of her golden flesh on his tongue. She was clawing at his back now, her heels digging into his calves. She was close; he could feel it. She was so close.

He ran his tongue along the entrance of her mouth, dipped it in and out while he finger fucked her deeper, harder. She started to whimper and moan as he looked straight into her eyes.

"I want you to come, Joss." She turned her head and closed her eyes, and he knew sensation was starting to overtake her. He watched her face as she moved under his hand, watched her face contort as his fingers moved inside her. She bucked against them, trying to pull him further in and he kissed her hard once more. "I want you to come."

"I'm gonna come, John," she moaned. It was breathy and light. It was the sound of ecstasy. "I'm gonna come."

She squeezed her eyes shut and then he knew. She was there.

Her next moan was deep, starting as a rumble in her throat, and when she let it out it echoed in the room. Her thighs trembled beneath him, her walls vibrated on his fingers, and when he tried to kiss her again, she moaned hard into his mouth. Her orgasm was long and drawn out. it seemed like wave after wave of pleasure was hitting her body.

He chose that minute to enter her. Chose that precise moment to plunge himself in deep. His thrusts met her orgasm, met the billows of desire that still held her in its grasp and promised something even deeper. He thought that he'd be able to last. Thought that he could take her on a journey to rapture, but the feel of her inside was almost too much to bear.

"You feel so good, Joss." It was a whimper against her neck, and he buried his head there. He couldn't wait. He drew her legs further up his back and increased his speed, pouring every ounce of his pent up feelings behind his thrusts. With his cheek to hers, he could hear the strangled cries that left her mouth. he could feel the sharpness of her nails as they raked over his scalp. He felt the friction of his cock moving against her walls and it drew everything out of him.

"You feel so soft, baby."

She couldn't talk, she couldn't move. All she could do was feel. She didn't think it was possible to reach her peak again quite so soon, but there it was. It hit her. Hard. Again. And she arched her back, clenched onto him. Gripped him tight. She heard him gasp at the sensation that wrapped around him too.

"John!"

She screamed his name and went limp underneath him. It was what she'd wanted. And he'd given it to her. He tensed up atop her, his body quaking with the last tremor of his orgasm. He was out of breath, as was she.

"Joss, Joss, Joss…" Her name became a melody in his mouth. A chant he whispered again and again as he planted soft kisses to her face and neck. "Don't leave me again, Joss. I can't lose you, again."

The sun had finally set and the sky outside was already a fully darkened blue. Streetlights were on and through the window Reese could still hear the calming sound of the surf. Joss lay next to him, her leg thrown over his, and she was quietly nestled near his chest.

His mind was filled with so many questions, thinking of the year that was lost and how much that time had changed them. She seemed different too. He couldn't quite explain it. Her strength and resolve was there, but beneath that there was a certain sadness that seemed to rest over her. It reminded him of the sadness he'd carried since he'd lost her. He wished he could make it all disappear.

She shifted in the bed, moving from his side, and he felt a stark cold when she was gone. She padded to the bathroom and he sat up in bed, the sheet bunching in his lap. When she came out, she left the light on behind her and stood by the door watching him. The glow in the back of her cast a haunting shadow across the room.

"I don't know how long I was gone or…all I know is that when I woke up, I'd just come out of surgery and I was happy to be alive."

She shifted her feet, still standing at the door, and he wondered how hard it must have been for her. She'd literally been all alone. She told him about the agreement with Captain Torres, the WITSEC programme, and coming here for her convalescence. They'd been apart, separate, but still travelled similar paths of healing and coming to terms with what had happened to them.

"I miss my son. I miss my boy so much."

"Come here," he said, and she walked back to the bed and into his arms. He imagined that it must be killing her inside to not see her son and be with him.

"He's doing better now. He's settling in school. At least that's what they tell me. He's probably a ladies' man now, getting ready for college. This is a year that I'll never be able to get back, John."

It turned out that she knew a lot of other things too. She knew he was a detective now, working at the Eighth, no less. She knew he was Fusco's partner and found it ridiculous but not all that surprising that Fusco didn't question how he even got the position. Fusco was always of the mindset that what you didn't know couldn't hurt you. He'd said as much to her in the past. Reese himself found the situation unbelievable at times. Sometimes he'd see a familiar face from the station that Shaw had rescued him from and felt nervous that he'd be recognized. That would be the day. That would be the end. But he'd been lucky so far. Very lucky. He supposed that any evidence or footage that could have tied him to any past arrests had been taken care of by the Machine when his new identity was created.

That was another thing she didn't know about. Samaritan. And how much their lives had been changed because of it. He'd never told her about the Machine. How could he tell her that now there were two?

He felt her sigh against his chest and stroked her back. "How'd you find me?" she asked.

"Well…" What could he say? How could he explain to her that the Machine was responsible for leading him here? And how could he explain that by doing so it was telling him that she might be in danger?

"Was it Finch's super computer?"

"What?"

"I know, John. I know about Finch's system. I've known for a long time. I was just waiting, hoping, that you'd trust me enough to tell me on your own."

"It was never about trust. It's always been about keeping you safe, Joss. That's what's always been important to me. And it wasn't my secret to tell."

He looked down at her in the dark, hearing the disappointment in her voice. They still had a long way to go before things got back to the way they were. But he was willing to do whatever it took.

"You know what this means, right?"

He nodded his head, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"It means I'm in trouble. Either somebody knows I'm alive or they know I'm here. I'm supposed to testify soon. Quinn may be on trial, but I'm sure he still has friends in high places who owe him a few favours."

"I know, but I won't let anything happen to you. Not again, Joss. And I want you to come with me."

"What?"

"Like you said, if there's a chance that someone even thinks you're alive they're going to come looking for you. If I found you here, somebody else could too. It's not safe for you. Let me take you somewhere else. Somewhere safe where I can protect you."

"John, no."

She didn't understand.

She hadn't been there during the months when it'd felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. She hadn't been there to witness how he cried over her body like a baby. She wasn't there to see him refuse to let her go when the paramedics came. She wasn't there to hear him calling out her name while unconsciousness was pulling him under. She wasn't there to see him contemplate all the times he wanted to put a bullet through his brain because he'd been helpless to stop Simmons.

She didn't, couldn't, understand how much he needed her. How much seeing that she was alive had made him come alive. He'd visited her grave this morning, something he thought he'd never have to do. He didn't want to do it again. And he wouldn't.

He'd have to make her understand.

"Joss."

He cupped her face, kissing her lips so fleetingly, feeling like his entire world was wrapped up in her in this moment. Feeling like it was in danger of slipping through his fingers yet again.

"John, I -"

She tried to whisper, tried to speak, but he silenced any other words she might have said. His hands dropped to her sides, his thumbs circled her nipples and he felt them hardening, springing to life. He gathered her in his lap before rolling over with her in his arms. Once beneath him on the bed he pressed his lips to the soft skin between her breasts. Her moans echoed as he rolled her nipples with his tongue.

He pressed kisses over her stomach, felt her fingers dig into his shoulders and felt himself getting hard for her again. She was a flame and he was the moth that could not stay away. He had to touch her, had to taste her, and he couldn't get enough. He lowered himself between her legs and she slid her toes along his back.

He tasted her, ran his tongue along her folds from bottom to top, and felt her squirm. She smelled so good. Tasted. So. Good. She was soft under his mouth. Wet. Moist. And he felt her tremble. He lapped at her folds, took them between his lips, inhaled her scent and it drove him wild. He let out a groan as his tongue circled her clit. His desire for her was rising rapidly.

Did she know? Could she feel how much he needed her?

Joss arched her back at the depth of pure sensation that washed over her. What was he trying to do? What was he trying to prove by this sweet torture he was putting her through? She fisted her hand in his hair and shifted under his mouth, but he pulled her hips closer, pushing his face even further between her legs.

She could barely breathe now, could hardly move. Her body was on fire straight down to her core and he was the delicious flame that sparked the inferno. As the tip of his tongue trailed the entire length of her folds and he raised his head, he looked at her. In the dark she couldn't fully see his face, but the light from the bathroom lent some illumination to the room. His eyes were intense, his breathing heavy. As he moved to hover over her, she could feel the weight of his cock on her thigh, felt the drizzle of his pre cum as it leaked.

He kissed her soundly, claiming her mouth, pushing his tongue past her teeth while he firmly parted her thighs wide. His entry was swift and hard, much like his thrusts. He held onto her hips as he pounded into her. She felt his weight, felt all of his strength, felt his desperation as he ground into her.

She was trapped beneath him, trapped together in their own bubble that was passion-filled and neither of them wanted to break free. She raised her legs higher over his back, taking him in further, pulling his length closer, feeling the beautiful bliss of him moving inside. He adjusted his angle, hitting her walls in a different way and it sent a new tremor through her.

"Oh God," she screamed, raking her nails across his back so hard she was sure she drew blood.

She was coming. He was taking her there, but she wasn't alone. Passion was drawing them closer and closer together. She started to scream as he increased his speed, increased the rotation of his hips and powered into her, filling her to the hilt.

Reese felt his breath stop, felt it hitch in his chest and he stilled atop Joss. Her face was buried in his chest, mewling against it and she held onto him tightly. He shifted his weight slightly, to give her room to breathe and he opened his mouth, filling his own lungs with air. He was exhausted, but he still pressed a soft kiss to the side of her face.

After a few more moments, he eased his weight off of her and rolled to the side. She got up, threw her arm around him and rested her head on his chest. He held her close and kissed the top of her head. Neither of them spoke, everything had been poured out between them when they'd made love. Nothing else needed to be said.