I'd been watching you John for a long time. I knew about you before I'd even left the hospital. I had already been looking for you to help me.
Do you remember that day in 2010 when you bumped into me, I was in the wheelchair? You had just found out that Jessica had died. You stumbled out of the hospital grief stricken. Only later did I discover you went to New Rochelle where her husband lived. Judging by the blood on you, that the boy on the bus saw, he must have put up a fight. How did you recover from that wound I wonder?
I almost didn't recognise you; you had a beard and were wearing a suit. The picture I had of you was clean shaven and in army uniform. You looked so handsome.
But your looks weren't what attracted me to you, no. I was looking for someone with special skills, someone who could help me with the job I was doing. Dillinger was a liability, dangerous and lacking in respect for everyone including me.
It was only later I discovered you working for the CIA when you and your partner went for the same person as my man. But I couldn't contact you; you were still too heavily involved with them. I kept track of you though. I knew you'd gone to China to Ordo. I heard that you had died there, though I didn't believe it.
It took some time to track you down again; then I heard a report about a homeless man on the subway, beating up some punks. I hacked their feeds with the help of the machine, and found out it was you. The machine showed me your picture with a yellow box around your head, she labelled you as primary asset even before we had met, she chose you as much as I. When I found you at the police station I sent my best lawyer to get you out.
What made you get in the car with my security men I wonder? With your skills you could have taken them out without too much effort. Was it curiosity that got you to come and meet me?
You didn't have to steal the money from them you know, I would have given you anything. You needed to get cleaned up, you knew that the police would run your fingerprints and would know that you were wanted in several countries. Cutting your hair and shaving changed your appearance so much.
Passing out from the alcohol made it easy for me to get you moved to a better hotel, I had help, of course. Zip tying your hand to the bed was the only way to convince you of how important it was to me to help people. By now Dillinger was gone. I needed you John, really needed you. I couldn't do this without your skills.
I was so glad that you agreed to join me. It took a while for you to settle down; I didn't really like the jeans and leather jacket look. We were supposed to be more sophisticated than that, the suit and shirts you settled on in the end suited you very well. You stood out from the rest but at the same time blended into the back ground.
I was more than happy to give you a substantial wage, though I know that you gave most of it away. You had such a generous nature. I know that most of it went to helping Joan and the homeless, who'd been looking after you for a time before I found you again.
I knew you were an expert in a great many things, but the number of guns and ammunition and the rest that you acquired worried me. I don't like guns much, necessary though they maybe sometimes. I'm glad that you stopped killing, crippling with the knee cap shot was better, though perhaps a burden on our hospitals.
It was only later that I found you had other skills, you were after all a very handsome man. I've watched the way women acted around you. They were attracted to your looks. But also I think because they knew you were a dangerous man to know and that excited them. It excited me.
I can't say when I realised you were fliting with me. I know that I watched your back every time you left the library, did you notice me watching? Did you notice I watched you cleaning your guns? You couldn't know what I was thinking about, those long slender fingers pushing the oily rags into the smallest of spaces. I was thinking about those fingers on me, what would they feel like?
I sometimes lingered patching you up, an accidental stroke along your shoulder, my hand flat on your chest. I looked at your chest when you changed shirts in front of me. Was that deliberate? Did you do it because you knew I liked looking?
I appreciated the tea and doughnuts, though my waistline probably didn't. I worried that you would find out too much about me, so I carefully schooled my expressions. Though when you were out on a mission I couldn't control the anxiety I felt for your safety.
The first time that it happened I suddenly realised I was in love with you. I had never felt such a strong emotion before, at least not for a man. Oh I had loved Nathen but as a brother nothing more. You, I loved with all my heart and soul. It was painful to watch you go out on missions, painful when you came back bleeding. The most pain I felt was when I suggested you try for a normal life with Iris. I realise now that she wasn't your type. Was anyone? Perhaps Carter if she had lived would have been the partner for you.
How I longed to be with you, to feel you close to me. Each time you touched me, hand on my shoulder, on my back. Each time I held you when you were injured though painful, so painful, was also a joy. How I wanted to tell you how I felt, how much I needed you. But I thought you wouldn't be interested in me, after all I'm older than you, not handsome and I'm crippled. So I kept my feelings to myself
I kept telling myself, "next time I'll tell him", "next time I'll hold him", "next time I'll kiss him", "next time", "next time….". But there are only so many next times. It was a cruel fate that was to keep us apart and now it's too late to tell you how I feel. Samaritan took you from me and I don't know how I am going to go on.
I miss you John, and I'll love you till my dying day.