The room was spinning, and Reese put a hand to his head to steady himself. He opened his eyes, realizing that the movement wasn't coming from the room itself, but from his head. There was a bright light coming through the window, the sun was up, and cast cheerful rays in his direction. It didn't seem to fit his mood, or the scowl that came readily to his face. He sat upright and looked at his surroundings, immediately recognizing the safe house he and Finch had frequented so much lately.

There were leads attached to his chest, a heart monitor by the bed and he groggily pulled at them, ignoring the sing song sound of the beep. The IV in his arm was nothing more than an annoyance as he tore at the tape over it and impatiently removed it. A groan escaped his mouth and he slowly swung his leg over the bed, his feet touching the cold tile. He made his way to the back bedroom, looking for the small amount of clothes he kept there in case he needed them. He took his time slipping into a pair of jeans, a blue button up shirt and a worn navy jacket. It took a little effort to put on shoes for some reason, his hands fumbled with the shoelaces of his sneakers, and when he was done he felt slightly winded.

As he made his way to the door, he caught a look at himself in the mirror and almost didn't recognize the person he saw. His eyes looked hollow, his face unshaven. Without his usual attire, he wasn't the 'Man in the Suit' anymore. He wasn't a vigilante; he wasn't the man he was during his time in the CIA. Who was he? It seemed like the second Joss closed her eyes and took her last breath in his arms, he'd lost the sense of who he was. Who was he supposed to be now? Unable to give any answers to those questions, he gathered his watch and wallet from the nightstand and left the room, suddenly desperate to leave the safe house.

When he finally walked outside, he squinted at the glare of the sun, and made his way to the only place he wanted to be. In the back of a taxi, he let his head loll onto the back seat. His body still felt weak and limp, but all he could think about was getting to his intended destination. Once there he stood quietly on the pavement, and tears stung his eyes as he stared at Joss' front door. The street seemed eerily quiet, almost as if dedicating a moment of silence in honor of her passing. There were no children outside, no chatter, not even a car passed through the street. The whole neighborhood seemed somber, as if they knew someone special was missing.

He crossed the street slowly, making his way up the steps. He was used to letting himself in, sitting quietly as he waited for her. Tonight, no matter how long he waited, nobody would come. As he walked inside, he smelled the hint of jasmine, a whisper of her presence remained, but everything else - her furniture, paintings, and photographs - was gone. Upstairs in her bedroom, all of her clothes were packed up into boxes and sealed up. Her bed was stripped, and only the mattress and box spring remained. He walked over to her bureau drawer, seeing a lone jewelry box on top of it.

It looked so small and delicate,

Just like her, he thought.

He ran his fingers across the jeweled cover, feeling the gems underneath his hands. He stood motionless for a moment remembering the way she'd held onto him while he kissed her in the morgue.

Why the hell had he waited so long to face how he really felt about her? Why had he been such a coward?

He finally opened it, and looked amongst her things; her earrings, her necklaces, and he found the lone bullet he gave her when they were together in the morgue.

He wondered why he lived when she didn't. He wondered if he was just incredibly lucky to have outlived the love of his life for the second time, or if he was just incredibly cursed. Tears started running down his face, and the feeling of helplessness he had as he held her started to return. He held the bullet in his hand and sat down on the mattress feeling a myriad of emotions all at once.

"Joss….." he whispered, imagining her next to him.

He reached for the gun in his coat pocket and slowly removed the clip. He put in the bullet in his palm and raised the barrel, resting it underneath his chin.

"I'll see you soon, Joss," he whispered brokenly.

His finger lingered on the trigger, and he closes his eyes, getting ready to fire.

"John….don't let this…."

Thinking of her last words to him before her eyes closed forever, hit him like a ton of bricks. He lowered the gun, and slowly let it fall to the ground.

The reality of her death and the fact that he'd never see her again finally hit him all at once. He became instantly overwhelmed with emotions and the tears flowed freely. He started to shake, and his body was wracked by sobs. No one was there to hear him groan, to quiet his weeping or the agonizing cries that left his mouth. Right now he was nothing more than a wounded animal, his pain raw and deep all the way down to his soul. His only source of strength was gone, the one who'd grounded him and given him a reason to change was lost forever. He wondered how, he wondered if it would ever be possible to recover from the devastating sense of loss that he felt right at that moment.