Translations: Bullfight
Ian Murphy is a young bull. John Reese is a – ahem – slightly older bull. But they both see red when it comes to Joss Carter.
This story uses conversations from the episode Lady Killer, including part of the scene in the safe house and part of the scene with Joss and Ian at the precinct.
I fleshed this out a little and added some additional dialogue to this tale.
This is what was said. This is what Ian heard.
XXX
As the tall guy threw a hood over his head and shoved him towards a waiting car, Ian Murphy wondered if he might be better off with the two men who tried to kill him.
The – whatever they were – team worked efficiently together. The two hit men were quickly zip tied and immobilized. A burly detective named Fusco arrived on the scene to take care of them and a tiny sprite – Ian recognized her as the 'yoga instructor' – sprinted off in the distance after roaring up with the car he was now being unceremoniously pushed towards.
"John," he heard Joss' voice say warningly, as another shove made Ian stumble forward.
The tall man's voice was a dangerous purr. "We need to get him to the safe house right away, Joss. It's not safe for him here."
From before he could barely walk, Ian had learned to read people really well, to know if he was going to get a beat down from one of his drunken family members, or just a slap, and while the tall guy, John, was well dressed and well spoken, while he didn't raise his voice, Ian knew that the man was pissed.
The question was, what was he pissed about? The situation, the bad guys, the fact that Joss was so close to danger?
As he was being shoved towards the car, Ian realized the guy was pissed at him.
Ian bumped his knee and his elbow hit the open door as he fell onto the back seat. Struggling to sit upright, he heard the front passenger side door open.
"You joining us…Joss?" John asked her.
He heard her take a deep breath, then the door slammed shut, shaking the car. The rear passenger side door opened and he could smell her jasmine scent as she slid in beside him.
"I'm ready, John, are you?" she replied.
As the car spun off, Ian's body lurched forward. He felt Joss steady him, pushing back on the seat. He grabbed her hand and held on to it. At first she tried to pull it away, but then she relaxed her hand in his.
They were silent as the car sped through city traffic. Ian quickly gave up trying to memorize all the turns – wherever they were going, he would never know where it was or how they got there.
He closed his eyes, the shock of almost being murdered finally sinking in.
Jocelyn Carter had saved his life.
Ian smiled softly under the hood. He knew she was special, even before he met her.
When he lost the love of his life, Dana, to her overbearing and controlling father, Ian had given up on any long term attachments. He became the dream date, the guy who wanted to know about you, the guy who actually listened.
After one, two, maybe three dates, he would gently let the woman down, giving her some extravagant gift as he softly kissed her goodbye – the voice coach, season tickets to the opera; the artist, a week long retreat; the chef, some desperately needed equipment for her new restaurant.
There were no entanglements, no heartbreak and Ian had convinced himself it was a win-win for everyone. It was all that he needed.
Until he saw Joss' profile on Angler.
He was drawn to her beauty, of course, but as he read her profile, Ian realized that he wanted to meet her, wanted to just talk to her.
He wasn't disappointed. Joss was smart, funny, engaging and incredibly sexy, and as she left the club, Ian couldn't help following her for a little while, her long legs gleaming in the darkness.
Making dinner for Joss was the most fun he'd had in a long time, and when he kissed her, something that had been closed in Ian for a long time, opened up, just a little.
The car slowed down and Ian realized they were at their destination.
Joss helped him out of the car, and after a short walk, they stepped into what was probably a private elevator, rising a number of floors before they exited, Joss again guiding him. He heard a door open and then as she gently nudged him forward, the hood was ripped from his head.
He was in a plush, yet non-descript apartment, all beiges and browns. An older man, who introduced himself as Harold, extended his arm to a large table, asked him to sit down. Ian walked slowly across the floor, took a seat at the head of the table. Despite himself, he couldn't help but notice how graceful Joss was as she crossed the room and sat on his left.
He expected John to sit across from him, but instead the man stood next to Joss, his large frame casting a shadow over her, as if he was protecting her.
Ian listened as Joss explained how she had come to put her profile on Angler.
Ian: I get that, but how did you know that someone was coming after me?
Joss: We had inside information that someone wanted you dead. Or, maybe it was the other way around.
Ian: Wait. You - You'd think I'd hurt someone?
As he watched John run his thumb back and forth over his clasped hands, Ian had the eerie sensation that the man was imagining squashing him like a bug.
John: We've seen your stalker stash, Ian.
Ian forced himself not to react to the fact that they'd been in his apartment. These people had already proven they could, and would do whatever they wanted – and they had saved his life. He'd learned from bitter experience to listen to what someone was really saying, and as he flexed his hands, preparing a response, Ian suddenly understood.
Translation: Ok, I get it. I thought you two might have been together in the past, but you never got that close, did you, John? Never kissed her, never put your arms around her, never even held her hand.
Joss might have started out doing her job, but something happened between us.
She might not know it yet, but you did.
And you don't like it – not one fucking bit.
Ian: It's not stalking. It's research. Women like that I can anticipate their needs. They're used to guys doing the bare minimum. I go above and beyond.
He raised his head a little, looking right into John's eyes.
Ian: Try it sometime.
The room suddenly became quieter than it already was.
John slowly stood up.
Ian steeled himself not to flinch as John came towards him, watching as his hand touched the back of Joss' chair, then as he stepped between himself and Joss. John stabbed his index finger on the table, and Ian could feel John's cold, hard rage as he loomed over him.
John: You're hunting them.
Translation: And I'm hunting you.
The man stepped behind him, and as Ian explained why he did what he did, and then after Harold's prodding, his relationship with Dana, and what happened with her father, Ian knew that while John was listening to him, his eyes were on Joss.
Watching her. Watching her reaction to every word Ian said.
XXX
Ian had known from the moment he met her.
Joss Carter was not an ordinary cop.
She saved his life, told him that he had a son, kept him from doing something even more stupid after he took Alex from his school.
Why did it seem like it was just an ordinary day for her?
Joss: I'm happy for you. And for Alex.
For the first time in a long time, Ian wasn't concerned about being the perfect date. He just wanted to spend time with her.
Ian: Happy enough to celebrate over a drink?
Joss: Maybe after the dust settles. You still have my number.
Ian: Yeah.
He handed her the birth certificate back and she stretched out her arm to shake his hand.
Ian gave her a long look. Joss had changed his life.
With her, he thought, I could be a better man.
He leaned forward, kissed her on cheek and walked away.
As Ian left the precinct, he felt the hairs on his neck stand up.
He stopped, looked across the street.
John was standing there. Watching him.
Ian knew that somehow John had heard every word that he and Joss had just said.
Ian had given up on Dana, had buried his anguish and cowardice in a series of meaningless relationships.
No more.
He nodded to John.
John nodded back.
They understood each other.
May the best man win.
Turning the corner, Ian passed a high end home furnishings store. He thought about his apartment, all shades of black and white and gray.
He turned back, entered the store.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Yeah. I want something…red."