Title: Two Blocks.
Rating: T for Teen or PG-13. Mild thematic elements, language, violence.
Summary: John is shot and drags himself to the one person he trusts the most.
Author Note: I was absolutely heartbroken when Joss died. I never cry through television, but between the morgue, and her death I was a basket case. I have not seen the show from Start to finish in fact I've only seen a handful of episodes, but I wanted to write a story so I wrote this. Hope you enjoy it.
THIS STORY CAN TAKE PLACE AT ANY TIME OR SEASON.
Two blocks, all he had to do was make it two more blocks. Every time he took a breath a sharp burning sliced into his lungs, and every step caused more blood to rush down his side. He forced his feet one after the other to keep him moving. His right arm held pressure to the gunshot wound in his left side. His vision grew blurry, but he willed himself to stay awake and moving.
Two blocks seemed like twenty, and his head swam. He was sure by now Finch was somewhere going crazy over his silence, but it couldn't be helped. His ear piece and phone were both beyond repair.
What if she wasn't there? what if she was out on a date? It was a saturday night after all, and she was a beautiful woman. The thought of her out on a date in the arms of another man, in the bed of another man hurt more than his bullet wound did.
Slowly her home came into view, and he felt slightly more at ease. He gripped the railing in his left hand, and pulled his body up the stairs one by one. He knocked on the door before finally, relaxing enough to lean against the building for support. The light on the porch kicked on, and she opened the door.
"John? What the hell happened?" She asked stepping onto the porch.
"Job...went bad, I've been shot." He said suddenly exausted.
His legs gave out and he slid roughly down the building. She mvoed catching him around the waist and struggling to hold his body weight up. She pulled his left arm over her shoulders.
"Come on." She said starting to move into the house.
"Taylor...I don't want to scare Taylor." He said.
"He's not home." She said quickly.
He tried to help her the best he could as she manuevered him inside. His right hand braced against the wall, but didn't do anything to support his weight. His legs got tangled up, and he nearly tripped them both mutiple times. Finally, he was sinking down onto her couch. Just the act of laying down made him feel a million times better.
"JOHN!" Her yelling made him jump, and he realized he had passed out.
"Sorry." He said softly.
"I'm calling an ambulance right now." She said grabbing for the phone.
"No." He caught her wrist in his hand, and she froze.
"Damn it John...you're bleeding out."She said.
"No hospital." He said looking at her.
He could read it in her eyes how scared she was. Those big brown eyes looked at him with fear, but he forced himself to smile back.
"No hopsital." He said again.
"Okay." She said softly.
"Promise me...No matter what happens...promise no hopsitals." He said.
"No hospitals." She promised and he released her arm.
As soon as he let go of her she began pulling on his jacket. The movement made him grind his teeth, but he didn't protest. She pushed it from his shoulders and she froze. His normally white shirt was soaked red with blood, and his pants were soaked as well. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt and she quickly slid them all loose.
Later she would try and tell herself she didn't check him out, that the sight of his muscled chest didn't stir feelings of want deep inside her. She'll tell herself that her fingertips gliding over the hard, silk contours of his chest didn't make her want to slide her tongue down it. Even in his bloodied state of shock his body was something that she'd only seen in movies.
"John, I'm going to get towels stay awake." She said.
He nodded, but couldn't find the energy to speak. Finally, he was the one place he always wanted to be if his number came up. She rushed back into the living room and pressed the towels into the wound on his side. He winced, but didn't moved.
"John, does Finch know what happened?" She asked.
"Lost my phone...and earpiece." He said.
"Stay with me. Okay? Just stay with me." She begged removing the first town to press a fresh one on the wound. Her hands were covered with blood, and she knew her couch was too.
"Sorry about all this." He said.
"Don't be sorry." She said putting pressure on the wound.
"You have to close it...get it to stop.."He said trying to lift his head.
She bit her lip looking around for any idea. A few feet away she saw her sewing kit. She made a dive for it. She looked up into his blue eyes that now looked like they were dimming.
"This is going to hurt. I need you to just breathe, and relax." She said.
"Do it. Don't stop." He said knowing he'd probably pass out again.
She lifted the towel from his wound, and looked for the entry place. After finding it she retreived her tweezers. She remembered when Taylor was little and would get splinters, hurting him had always made her cry. She was about to dig a bullet out of one of the few people in her life she loved enough to die for. She hesitated.
"Do it Joss." He said.
She leaned forward and using her fingers located the bullet before digging in with the tweezers. His body tensed arching up off of the couch, and she held her breath.
"Hang on John. Hang on." She said sounding more calm then she felt.
Finally with a sickening twist the bullet pulled out of the wound. She breathed a sigh of reliefe before tossing it onto the coffee table. If it was possible more blood poured from the wound. She looked up and saw he was unconcious.
"John...John.."She felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one.
She grabbed the needle and thread and before she could talk herself out of it made the first stitch pulling the wound together. She was shaking and in an effort to keep calm began to count the stitches.
nineteen,twenty,twenty one, twenty two.
She sat back and looked at the wound for any places that were still bleeding, but it was sewn up tight. She pushed her hair back from her sweat soaked forhead. He was still breathing and she counted that as a small victory. Glancing at the clock she saw it was past midnight, and she was suddenly bone tire. She sunk to the floor beside the couch deciding to rest her eyes for just a minute.
He opened his eyes wincing at the light pouring in through the window. He was laying on a couch, and every muscle in his body ached. He pushed into the sitting position wincing at the sharp pull of fresh stitches. He glanced down and seeing the injury remembered where he was, and what had happened.
Joss was asleep on the floor. Her back resting against the couch near his feet her head falling forward. Her hair curtained her face, but she was covered in blood. He sat up careful not to wake her up. His side protested the movement, but he stood up anyway. His jacket was tossed onto the floor, and his shirt was undone. He was dry, but this outfit was ruined.
He grabbed her phone from the coffee table, and dialed the number he knew by heart.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded upset.
"Finch. It's me." He said.
"Mr. Reese you've been unreachable for nearly twelve hours I was getting worried." Finch said.
"Things didn't go as expected." He said.
"I tried to call Detective Carter to go look for you, but she was unreachable as well. "Finch said.
"I'm here with her, She must have turned off the ringer on her phone." John said.
"I see. Is everything alright?" Finch asked.
"The victim wasn't the victim. He took a shot at me. I had to terminate him, but he hit me. My earpiece and phone were damaged. I had to go somewhere I could trust quick. Joss let me in." John said.
"You do realize of course our place was closer." Finch said.
"It was kind of a quick decision Finch." John said.
"Of course. Will you be coming in?" Finch asked.
"I'll be there soon." John said glancing at Joss.
"Alright see you soon Mr. Reese." Finch hung up, and John tossed the phone onto the couch.
He felt guilty about her sleeping on the floor, but knew he couldn't carry her to the bed in his current state. He settled for placing her on the couch. Manuevering her top half first then her legs put little strain on his side, and luckily for him she was a heavy sleeper. Before he left he covered her with a quilt from her bed.
When Joss woke up she was on her couch. She winced at the light pouring in on her, and glanced at her watch it was well after noon. She sat up suddenly remembering the night before. The quilt fell to her feet as she looked beside her. On the coffee table was a bullet that was covered in blood, a sewing kit and a note.
The bloody towels had been picked up, and Johns jacket was gone. She grabbed the note recognizing the writing immediately.
Joss, Thanks for last night. I'll replace the couch, and anything else you need. John.
Short, simple and to the point just like the man who wrote it. She held the note in her hand before tossing it back onto the couch. What did she really think was ever going to happen with them? did she really think he'd ever see her as anything, but a partner? That's what she was his partner. She would die for him, and she knew he would die for her. Underneath that was the fact of course she was in love with him.
Mr. Vigilante', Mr. do what had to be done. She was in love with him, and when he hurt, she hurt. She sighed falling back onto the couch. So she'd stitch him up, and catch him when he fell. She'd get him out of trouble twice as often as he got himself in whatever the cost to her, because she would die for him if she had too. As long as he needed help she'd be there because even Mr. Vigilante' had to have a partner, and she was awfully glad she was his.
THE END Leave a Review.
