A/N: All the blame goes to Fangirlu. :P I hope it doesn't disappoint.

"If my number was up, I'm just glad I was with you."

Joss's heart pounded in her chest as she looked into John's eyes. She wasn't expecting this. More of this.

"No one I'd rather be with at the end."

She swallowed. It had been a whirlwind 48-hours capping off a perilous self-imposed journey for justice. And vengeance if she were completely honest. She'd kept John out of it as long as she could, knowing the entire time she'd never really had the power to do so in the first place. He'd respected her unspoken request for solitude in the matter until he couldn't stand it any longer and offered his help. The first time, he let it go. Second time in her living room, too. But she'd known he was at the end of his rope then—could hear it in his voice—and had consequently cut him off the only way she knew how. It had been down to the wire at that point. Everything critical. No mistakes or deviations allowed, and allowing his overprotectiveness into her plan would render everything she'd done moot. Besides, it wasn't his fight and he would have made it his because it was hers and potentially gotten himself seriously hurt or killed.

She thought back to the moment he'd left her in the morgue. The moment her heart seized in her chest at the thought of never seeing him again. She hadn't meant to confess how much it would hurt her if she lost him. They'd always had a connection—antagonistic on her end before she'd gotten to know what he was about—but she hadn't been interested in acknowledging it, granting it any more credence in her life. It was too dangerous, physically and emotionally. A fool's errand if she'd taken it on and explored it.

She wasn't sure what to say. She'd never seen his eyes like this before. Radiant, hopeful. Inviting and soft. There was joy in them. And his words. God, everything he'd done for her and said to her in the past few days. She'd been so grateful to have been busy the entire day after she'd brought Quinn in. All the debriefing, turning over of evidence, meetings, phone calls, accolades and expected contempt. It gave her very little time to ruminate over John's confession and how she felt about it. Very little time to remember how his lips felt against hers. She figured, if she didn't think about it, it wouldn't take hold. It wouldn't have meaning. And they could go back to whatever it was they were before everything went to hell.

But here they were. Again. He'd brought it all back. Only this time, immediate danger and the fear of losing time wasn't dimming the light in his eyes. He seemed lighter, a weight off his chest, the weight of the world off his shoulders, and his words were telling her it was because of her. What the hell had she done to be able to draw such beauty from him? From a man so closed off from living life? What had she done to deserve the adoration she was seeing? What had she done to find a man who would gladly walk through hell with her and thank her for allowing him to?

She remained speechless, in awe really, returning his smile because she had to. She was nervous, felt put on the spot, but the beauty in his face was touching every corner inside her, feeding her as she realized she was starved for it. Starved for him. It shocked her.

John nodded in Finch's direction as the older man made his way over to them. "Give you a ride home?"

Joss released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, grateful she'd been spared the task of forming a coherent and potentially life-changing response. Grateful the spell had been broken. "No, go ahead. I drove my car here." She smiled again. "Thanks, though." She watched as he nodded. He was reluctant to leave, she could tell. Reluctant to draw back into himself after letting someone in. They'd gone through so much together—again—that it seemed….wrong somehow to leave it like this. To close the book now and put it back on the shelf. She was surprised to find herself feeling this way after having run away from her feelings for the better part of two days. She hated to see him struggle, though, so she smiled at Finch before heading back to the precinct, hopefully making the decision to leave easier on him.

But she knew as soon as she opened the door to go back inside that she hadn't seen the last of him. He'd be back. Soon.

She swallowed again.

John sat outside Carter's home, waiting. When he'd told Finch he didn't want to go home, wanted to be dropped off at Carter's, his friend silently drove him there. No questions, but then he'd known Finch wouldn't ask any. Wouldn't need to ask any. He'd heard it all. He'd seen his reluctance when Joss bid them goodnight. He knew that they'd been through hell together once again. And this time, distance wouldn't regain them normalcy. This time, things needed to be dealt with.

The feelings were a bit foreign to him, it had been so long. He wasn't surprised by them, no. He was only surprised that he'd told her. Carter was a loner like he was. Circumstances had made them both that way. But take those circumstances away and he was like anyone else. Wanting companionship, connection. Love, affection. And like anything that's suppressed too long, it came out unexpectedly, before it could be reined in. He wondered if it was the same for her. He wondered if she felt it. If she saw her future in him, too, in spite of the danger and uncertainty.

Carter got out of her car, having been in somewhat of a daze since she parted from John and went back inside the precinct. When she'd pulled into her driveway, she couldn't even remember the drive home and gave a quick prayer of thanks for her safe arrival.

She rounded the front of her building and was greeted by a dark figure sitting on her stoop. She'd know it anywhere.

John.

It was only a mild surprise. There was a lot she didn't know about him, but she knew he could have tremendous focus, knew he could be like a dog with a bone. Knew he was craving something he didn't think he deserved but wanted more than anything. So, no, she wasn't all that surprised to find him here. She was surprised that she didn't want him to leave without getting everything he wanted.

She walked up to him as he stood up. It was dark but she could see it still hadn't left his eyes. She thought about teasing him for waiting outside instead of letting himself in, but she didn't want to fall into default banter. She was too tired and feeling too high-strung to put up their usual front.

John put his hands into his pockets as he stood before her. He looked off into the distance, hearing the faint sounds of far-off traffic, of people with normal lives and families and Friday night plans. He wanted a piece of that.

He took a breath, deep and expunging. "I was on the way home, but…" The breath he took was ragged this time and caught in his throat. He faced her. "I know you don't need me, Joss, but I need...what you give me." It made no sense to be telling her this right now, outside her home, at this time of the night. But he was restless and wouldn't be able to relax if he didn't get the last of it off his chest. He honestly didn't have a goddamn thing to lose at this point. He'd messed around and seen his future with her if they made it out of that morgue alive and it filled him with such...peace that he didn't want to go back. He didn't want to live without it anymore.

She smiled up at him softly, just as she had 45-minutes earlier on that sidewalk. She had no fight left in her. It had all been spent finding and apprehending Quinn. On running away from feelings that were chasing her. She was weak, vulnerable. And it was a frightening but welcome feeling.

She took his hand and headed up the stairs. It felt right. His hand in hers. She released him and unlocked the door. They entered and she turned on a single lamp in her living room before she grabbed his hand again. Silently, she led him into the kitchen, over to a bar stool. Releasing his hand once more, she instructed him quietly. "Sit."

He watched as she turned the kitchen light on and removed her leather jacket, setting it across the kitchen table along with her holster. He kept his eyes on her as she walked back over to him and proceeded to slide his jacket from his shoulders. When she finally met his eyes, she smiled at him again in encouragement and he shrugged the jacket off. She left to set it across the table next to hers and approached him once more, this time reaching out to slowly unbutton his shirt. The act was so intimate, so sensual, he swallowed and his body tensed before he could catch himself.

He let her remove his shirt and his eyes followed it as she set it on the island next to them. He then followed her eyes to the dried blood on his bicep.

"You've been favoring it. I wanted to see." She went to the sink, grabbing a clean dishcloth and running it under warm water.

When she returned, he watched as she wiped away the blood to examine his graze. It was just a dull ache at this point. In fact, he hadn't felt a thing from it until her concern. But that was no surprise; she always made him feel.

Wordlessly, she left the kitchen and he watched as she disappeared around the corner and up the stairs. He thought about taking the opportunity to calm himself down, get his body to stop wanting her so much. He didn't think of many things as being physically impossible, but that particular challenge probably topped the list so he decided not to waste the effort.

Two minutes later, she came back with a bandage and some ointment. Again, he watched as she gently dabbed around the already healing wound, locking eyes with him briefly before returning her focus to her task. He'd never felt so cared for from such a simple act. He'd never felt so honored to be in someone's presence.

The silence as she worked was ripe and strangely verbose. Filled with unspoken words and questions. Affirmative responses and exclamations. Change. And desire. So much desire. The blood was rushing so loudly in his ears he wondered if she could hear it.

She was exhausted. Concentrating on his injury had given her enough time to think about everything that had transpired since she began this journey. She was tired of being strong. She was tired of being secretive. She was tired of being on her own. She was tired from months of being those things while she got justice for Cal and Bill and everyone else HR had threatened and destroyed. She wanted to put the strength down, lay it aside. She wanted to be open. She wanted to lean on someone. She wanted to feel protected, safe, cared for.

All she had to do was let him in and he'd share the burden.

It was all she had to do.

She finally took her eyes from his shoulder and brought them to his face. He was watching her. Waiting.

"I think…." She cleared her throat softly. "I need you, too, John." She brought her hand up to his rough cheek, caressing it, her touch feather light. She watched as the openness in his eyes grew from her confession. She could see everything now.

John stood up, eclipsing her. Heat transferred between them easily and quickly as they stood, very little space between them. The chatter in the air around them changed, becoming off-kilter, off-balance. Entropy heightening. It was fraying his nerves, making his skin spark from the electric charge.

She felt it then. Suddenly. A hunger. Want. A lust that felt insatiable.

He put both hands on the sides of her face, leaned down, and kissed her. Slowly, with determination behind each brush of his lips over hers, each swipe of his tongue across her luscious mouth. After what felt like an eternity of gentle bliss, just when he was about to deepen it, about to coax her tongue into dancing with his, she dropped from the tips of her toes and stopped his quest to greet the inside of her mouth.

She grabbed his hand, feeling his skin singing hers, and pulled him with her, fully intending to introduce him to her bed. Fully intending to shut down all thoughts. No thinking of the future, what their relationship would look like tomorrow. She wanted him to do what he always did. She wanted him to save her. This time, from herself.

John followed her down the hall. Up the stairs. Into her darkened bedroom. Not believing it but knowing it was happening. He watched her shut the door behind them and turn to stand in front of him. Watched her lift the hem of his t-shirt before he finished lifting it over his head. He stood there. Still quietly watching as her warm, exploring hands ran up and down his stomach and chest before the sensation forced him to close his eyes. He valiantly fought back the urge to moan, embarrassed that her simple touch could bring him to such base utterances. Opening them again, his eyes followed her hands as they unbuckled his belt, sliding it from the belt loops before tossing it to the floor. He lifted his eyes and watched her face. The button came undone next, zipper lowered, and soon his pants and underwear were pooled at his feet.

She stepped back as he toed off his shoes and socks, pulling her charcoal gray top off. She wasted no time reaching behind herself to unfasten her bra, feeling his eyes already making love to her as she stripped down to nothing. Both of them naked now, John closed the short distance between them and lifted her at her waist. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and held on as he climbed onto her bed, laying her head on her pillow and covering her body with his own.

They sealed their decision to do this, to love one another, with a kiss. It went on forever, its mission far-reaching and critical . Worry, wiped away with a press of the lips. Doubt, wiped away with a tangle of tongues. Fear, wiped out with each nip, pull, and suck. This was meant to happen. This had always been meant to happen.

Delay no longer an option, wetness and hardness at intolerable levels, he spread her thighs and pressed them into the mattress. He set his jaw and listened to her hiss as he slid inside, immediately regretting all the time wasted. All the times he had missed out on this. Marvelling at how loving her body nearly rivaled loving her heart.

He began to stroke, internally crying out to a deity he hadn't spoken to in years. But the pleasure was so unbearable, the warm heat and friction so perfect, the cries left his mouth, drowning out the ones leaving hers.

He kept it steady, constant. Groaning, moaning.

Stroking, stroking.

Oh god. It was all she could think, all the verbiage she could remember. She writhed beneath him, crying out unintelligible words, opening and closing her fists as her arms shook. He was taking her somewhere else, some other plane she'd never been before. A pleasure zone where she kept forgetting to breathe, kept forgetting she was still in her own body. It was terrifying in its spectacle but after a few seconds, after she heard his anguished cry and knew he was there with her, she let it take her away.

Euphoria. He had reached it. Gotten there quickly. Feeling his body beginning to shut down, beginning to slip out from under his control, John looked into her eyes, forehead touching hers, as he pushed toward their final ascent. Stroking. Steadily stroking. He wouldn't slow down. He wouldn't speed up. It was building, snowballing, and he was powerless to change its course.

Flames danced around them, the pounding in their ears like the beat of an invisible drum, preparing them for impact. They braced themselves. She clawed at his back. He brought his hands up to her face, watery eyes struggling to remain open and focused on hers, apologizing in advance. It was going to hurt so good.

"Joss." He pleaded with her. He couldn't go on any longer. Ecstasy had tortured him mercilessly and he had uncharacteristically broken down under the strain.

He stroked and she bucked, wild with tension desperate to be unfettered. The sweat pooled at her lower back, prickling her sensitive skin. She tried to call his name but no sound came out. Her eyes began to roll to the back of her head. And then the orgasm hit her like a boulder, jarring her bones and sending her into a state of shock. She cried out but, still, no sound left her mouth.

As soon as he felt her first convulsion, John let go, a wail a few pitches higher than his usual timbre coming from deep within his abdomen. Tremors wracked his body as he collapsed on top of her and fought to regain control. He was flailing, felt like he was suffocating as he struggled to get it back, unsettled by what was happening to him.

It was a long time before he got basic control of himself. A long time before he realized he'd been crushing her small body into the mattress for an indeterminate length of time. It took all the strength he had to slip his arms underneath her and roll them over. She was as limp as a rag doll, dead weight as she laid on top of him.

"Joss." His low voice was raspy. "Are you okay?" He thought he felt her nod her head against his chest almost imperceptibly.

They laid there, John still unable to grasp simple mental concepts such as the passage of time as both hands drew lazy circles on her back. It wasn't until he felt a chill run through her body, felt her soft arms wrap around his torso that he came back to himself fully, finally regaining the ability to process external stimuli.

She was cold.

He sat up and she shifted so her legs were wrapped around his waist, arms still around him, face buried in his chest. "Joss, you okay?"

"Cold."

It wasn't much but he was grateful she was forming short, incomplete sentences. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet. Holding her to him with one arm, he used the other to turn down her bed linens before crawling back in and settling them beneath the covers.

Sleep had no difficulty taking them away moments later.

They awoke at the same time the following morning, John on his stomach, his right arm flung over Joss as she laid on her back. Soft smiles formed between them as they turned onto their sides to face one another.

Joss reached out, running her hand down the side of his sleep-drenched, beautiful face. She studied him reverently. He looked boyish, charming, that look still in his eyes.

It all came together at that moment. She hadn't recognized it before because she hadn't taken the conventional route to get there. It was John so how could she really? But she loved him. She did. She absolutely loved him.

John smiled when he saw the look in her eyes. Gone was the shock, disbelief. The reluctance.

She was there. She had made it. She'd accepted that he loved her. And she loved him back.

~End

A/N: Thanks for checking this out. :)