Chapter One: Rescue
"Detective Carter, John needs your help. Where are you, detective?" an anxious Harold Finch spoke into his cell phone to Detective Joss Carter as she sat at her desk completing paperwork.
"I'm at the station…and I think you know already where I am. Where is he, Finch?" she calmly asked.
"It's Donnelly," Finch nervously stated. "He's got John on a chase. John hasn't been able to shake him yet."
"Special Agent Donnelly," Carter sighed.
"Yes, Detective, I know. This one's not so cut and dry."
"What do you want me to do?" Carter asked.
"Somehow, you need to get Donnelly off his tail."
"Where are they?"
"Heading toward Brighton Beach..right now."
"Okay, Finch, I'll see what I can do, but…"
"Thank you…" Finch interrupted.
"But…I don't know what," Carter finished.
"Thank you, Detective Carter," Finch repeated as he hung up the phone and continued staring at the monitor where he could see the red blip that represented John's rapidly moving location. He was frightened that John couldn't get out of this one. He had been fortunate to get out of numerous close calls so far, but Donnelly was different. He was a good man, so maiming or killing him was not an option.
Carter stared a few seconds at her phone then pushed speed dial to get Reese.
"Little busy right now, Carter," Reese stated after he flipped on his ear piece.
"That's what I'm calling about, John. Finch called me to help you try and get out of this one. He says it's Donnelly."
"Yes," Reese stated calmly as he swerved his car into the right lane to pass a car using the left.
Carter could hear the squealing of tires through the phone. "John, I'm going to connect to your GPS to catch up to you."
Reese wanted to tell her to stay away from this one because it was too dangerous and too risky for her career, but he knew he needed her help…needed her. "Okay, Carter. Thanks."
They hung up from each other as Carter turned on and waited for Reese's GPS signal to come on her phone so she could more easily get to him. She left the station and began driving toward his location, not knowing what she could possibly do when she got to him.
Fifteen minutes later his signal stopped moving. Carter's stomach clinched. This was not a good sign. She continued speeding toward Reese's signal, not wanting to call him but feeling fearful that this could only mean that Donnelly had caught up to him or that he had wrecked, which was also not good.
A little later she approached Brighton Playground where John's signal had abruptly stopped. It was dark, and there was no sign of Donnelly or John anywhere. As she skulked her car toward the parking lot near the park, she saw red and blue flashing lights of an ambulance and fire truck on the scene of what was apparently a car accident. One car had rear-ended another. Parking her car, Carter got out and flashed her badge at the police on the scene. "Detective Carter, NYPD," she announced as she kept walking toward the crashed vehicles.
The cops on the scene recognized her authority and lifted the yellow tape for her to more easily get underneath.
"Thanks," she acknowledged. "What's happened here?"
"Some FBI agent crashed into the back of the car of a criminal he was chasing," the cop answered.
"Any fatalities?" she nervously asked.
The cop didn't know Joss Carter or her tone of voice when she was nervous, so he thought nothing of it as he answered, "Just the Agent was still in his car. He's pretty banged up but will be okay. The suspect's air bag deployed when he crashed into those parked cars, but he somehow escaped."
"Escaped?"
"I don't know how in the hell he could have gotten out of that wrecked car, but he's not in there."
"Thanks," Carter answered. She took one last look at the crushed cars and exhaled a deep breath. The car John was driving had smashed into several parked cars and had lost its windshield. Its front end was demolished, and the driver's door was ajar. Joss Carter knew how capable John Reese was in getting out of extremely dangerous situations, though.
Turning back toward her car, she knew that the GPS signal had to be correct placing John in the park. Backing away from the accident, she nodded to the cop as he held up the yellow caution tape again; then she got in her car and headed back to the park.
She parked her car on the street and went on foot toward the bench inside the fenced-in park. The cold air whipped through her hair and across her face. She dialed John, but it beeped that "no-service" beep. "Okay, no cell. Now, what do you want me to do, John?" she asked, mostly to herself.
She was cold but continued to sit on the bench. She owed him that. He would do the same for her. Several minutes later she heard the ambulance and fire truck begin inching their way out of the parking lot. She followed them with her deep brown eyes as they drove down Boardwalk Street to take Donnelly to the hospital. After the wrecker trucks had hauled away all of the cars that had been crumbled beyond model identification, all was quiet. She continued to sit on the bench in the silence.
A few moments later, the shrill of her cell phone made her jump. "Oh, It's you. Listen, I'll call you as soon as I find him, okay? Just hang tight. There was an accident, but John got out of his car, so that's a good thing. I'm waiting in Brighton Park for him where his GPS signal last had him. I'll call you when I locate him," she said as she pushed the OFF button on her cell, not allowing Finch to say anything in response.
Flecks of snow stung her face. Her hands were beginning to feel numb from cold. "John," she yelled. "I'm here."
A good number of minutes passed, but she continued waiting on the bench. Squinting her eyes and moving forward on the bench, she could see the outline of a figure in the distance. "John," she excitedly said to herself. "You're okay." Cautiously, she said aloud, "John? Is that you? John?"
John could hear Carter up ahead in front of him calling him as she sat on a bench in the cold of the night. He didn't have the strength to answer her call but walked toward her as quickly as possible. He appreciated her deeply at that moment.
Rushing toward the figure in the distance, Carter could see that it was John and that he was walking more slowly than normal, holding onto the playground equipment as he stepped. "Thanks, Carter," he said as she approached him.
"I don't know how in the hell you can possibly get yourself out of these horrific situations, but somehow you always do," Carter answered as she put her arm around his shoulder.
"Somehow," Reese laughed.
Carter could see the cut on his head and that he flinched when he breathed, but he certainly looked better than she envisioned he would look considering the condition of his car. She saw him shake against the cold air and wasn't sure if that meant he was in shock or was just cold. "Come on, let's get you home."
He didn't respond, just shot her a quick smile and began walking toward her car on the street outside the park.
"Besides the obvious head wound and probably bruised ribs, where else are you hurt?"
"That sums it up," Reese softly spoke as he swayed to the side.
"Whoa…John!"
Reese caught himself before falling. "No worries, Carter."
Carter moved in a little closer, clinching his shoulder more tightly as she led him to her car. She knew that he would probably not disclose unseen injuries to her. "No worries? What do you mean no worries? Donnelly was this close to snagging your ass! You could have been killed! You scared me half to death, John Reese!"
John looked at her as she continued her tirade. There was nothing really he could say to her but was touched that she apparently seemed to care about him.
Carter continued, "You're always the tough guy, huh, John?"
Reese smirked. "Can I use your phone to call Finch? Mine got a little… well… destroyed."
When they reached her car, Carter handed John her phone. Under the streetlamp, she began looking him over to see what damage had actually been inflicted on him in the accident. He was a little bloodier than she had initially noticed, and white airbag dust was on his face and in his eyes, causing his eyes to become irritated and swollen. She was more concerned, however, with how Donnelly had caught up to him than with his injuries that she knew he would quickly overcome.
As he talked to Finch, she thought about what an interesting relationship they had. Their once employer-employee relationship was transforming into a friendship—loosely speaking. Neither one seemed the type to need someone to unload personal details on, but she remembered how worried and determined John was when Finch had been recently kidnapped. She also could hear Finch's frantic tones when John was in trouble and needed help.
"Yes, Finch," John said. He then followed up with, "I don't know."
Carter suspected Finch was asking how Donnelly had found him. "Tell him I'm taking you to your place to get cleaned up and that you'll see him later.
Reese turned to acknowledge Carter's statement as he continued talking with Finch. "Listen, just do what you need to do. I'll check in with you tomorrow. Call me when you're back."
As Reese turned back toward Carter, she could see that his head wound was continuing to bleed and that he also had crystals of windshield glass in his hair and face. He continued rubbing his eyes to relieve the irritation made by the airbag dust. "Just sit back and relax. We'll be at your place soon," she said as she put her hand on his arm and gently pushed it down from his eyes.
Reese realized what he was instinctively doing and allowed his hand to go to his lap.
Carter saw from her peripheral vision that Reese had put back his head on the head rest and had closed his eyes. "Should you be doing that?" she asked. "You might have a concussion. That wound looks rough."
"Ahh…that's an urban legend, Joss."
"It is not, John!"
"Okay, Dr. Joss Carter, I'll stay awake in the event that I have a concussion because I'm sure staying awake will keep me alive," Reese sarcastically stated.
Carter reached over and swatted him on his shoulder. For a split-second, their bantering seemed normal to her…like they could have been any normal couple heading home from an evening of dinner and the theater. She shook that off because she knew that nothing about John Reese…and the crazy relationship they had…was normal.
And it never would be.
After her husband had been killed, she decided that she would never put herself out there to get close to any other man. She didn't trust any other man. It was just her and Taylor…and of course her mother, too. But neither of them could ever come close to replacing what she missed not having a spouse. So she put her whole self into her job and her son.
Then along came John Reese in her life. Watching him get shot by the bullet she had practically fired herself last year threw off her balanced system of right and wrong, good and bad. With Reese, she had to extend her boundaries and definitions. She couldn't believe that her relationship with him had actually developed into a friendship and that she was the one he would call to help him out of difficult situations. She couldn't believe that she always responded to him, wanted to help him. There was a place for him in her life, and she had come quite connected to him this past year. She had allowed herself to trust him even though she knew very little about him.
All she did know about him was what was in his file that she had shredded last year when she learned that Donnelly was leading an FBI team to try and capture him. She knew that there was once a girlfriend named Jessica who had been killed. She had saved the picture of him and Jessica…couldn't bring herself to shred it with the stack of paper.
John had looked happy then, she thought. His smile, his eyes…were different than they are now. She couldn't grasp how, but now he seemed to be mostly on auto-pilot, non-emotional, not really happy or sad or afraid or angry…any of the emotions that make human beings human. What had happened to him, she wondered. She knew that whatever happened to him, the CIA was somehow involved, and they were out to eliminate John Reese from this world.
But even after a year together, she still knew little else about this man who sat beside her in her car. She believed that he was a good man and that he was trying to do good. So how could she argue with that? That's what she wanted, too.
She turned to look at Reese as she drove. He was still sitting back with his head propped against the headrest, but his eyes were open. She could see that the dust had caused his eyes to water, but he sat calmly with his hands in his lap. "You okay?"
"I'll be okay after a hot shower, clean clothes, and some food…and maybe some sleep."
"We'll be at your place in a few minutes," she said quietly.
"Thanks for saving my ass, Carter."
"You're welcome, John."
There was awkward silence between them for the remainder of the journey to his apartment. They rarely talked about anything other than the cases he was working on. John wasn't much of a conversationalist, and she accepted that about him.
She parked on the street outside his apartment. John continued sitting. "We're here. Don't fight me on this. I'm going up with you to help you."
"That's not necessary, Joss."
"I know, but it would make me feel better about this situation. Okay?"
"It's late. Don't you need to get home to Taylor?"
"No, I was on duty," Carter answered. "My mom is staying over tonight to make sure Taylor makes his curfew."
John gave her a funny expression.
"Winter dance."
"Oh," John said as he fished his keys out of his pocket.
Carter was curious what his apartment looked like…what kind of artwork, trinkets, furniture, books he possessed. She had never been inside his place, and she knew that these items might give her some insight as to who John Reese really is. "Don't argue with me. I'm going to help you get your injuries cleaned up."
John wasn't uncomfortable—nor was he totally comfortable—with Carter peering inside his world, but he knew that very little in his apartment actually reflected who he was. His apartment was open, bright, and spacious, and he regarded himself as closed, dark, and constricted. Everything in his apartment had been furnished by Finch except for the numerous weapons he harbored from crime scenes.
As he unlocked the door to his apartment, he held it open for Carter to enter. He followed behind her, turning on the lamp on the table by the door.
"John, nice place," Carter said in a surprising tone.
"You sound surprised," Reese answered, turning to her to muster up a smile.
"Geeze John, your head wound looks worse now!"
"I'm okay, Carter…just a bleeder."
"You go ahead and shower...and bring me your first-aid kit."
John turned obediently and headed to the bathroom.
She waited to hear the shower turn on but heard nothing. Then suddenly she heard a loud thump followed by a breaking sound and crash.
