AN: I really need to get my muse under control with John Reese and Joss Carter. It's been running amuck for a while now with no hope of slowing down. This story happened because I made the mistake of re-watching 2x1 and 2x2.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Joss climbed out of the shower before toweling off. It had been a long few days. First with saving John from Donnelly, the FBI and HR, then helping work the Alicia Corwin case after a woman known as Root kidnapped Finch, and then flying to Texas to help John search for their missing friend. She wondered if John got him back yet. John jet-setted off for Maryland after they managed to figure out what really happened to Hanna Frye and that was the last she'd heard from him. Fusco wondered what happened and she told him what she could. She hoped John, or better yet, Finch, called soon.
Joss removed the shower cap that she had on to protect her hair from getting wet before wrapping the towel around her and cinched it tight, just under her armpits, and frowned when she thought she heard a noise in her bedroom. She froze to listen. She listened again and she definitely heard footsteps. Her heart started to pound as adrenaline began pumping through her veins. Damn it; she left her gun in her bedroom. Joss looked around her bathroom in search of a weapon she could use to fight off the intruder long enough to reach her gun.
She exited her bathroom with the toilet plunger held like a baseball bat ready to swing it at the prowler and then lunge for her gun, when she came face to face with her intruder. "JOHN!" she hissed in anger. "What the hell are you doing here?—in my bedroom, while I was taking a shower," she lamented as she lowered the plunger down, feeling her heart settle back in her chest. She got fired up for no reason. And she frowned as she stared at him. He looked lost.
"I can't find him," John said softly as he sat down on the foot of her bed.
Joss paused. "You can't find Finch?—I thought…"
John looked up and she saw the bleakness in his eyes. "So did I," he whispered as he looked back down and unfurled his left hand and she saw cufflinks that had to be Finch's.
Joss looked away from his hand to his face and grew more concerned about him. He looked disheveled and she could swear she smelled alcohol and he was a good few feet away. That was not good. She didn't want John reverting back to the man she had in her precinct when they first met. She liked the progress John had made at healing, at growing, and now it was all in jeopardy. Not to mention their friend was out there somewhere in need of help.
"Stay put, let me change and we'll talk." she requested firmly.
John didn't respond as he just sat staring at the cufflink in his hand. Joss hurried over to her dresser grabbing a pink matching satin shorts and tank pajama set hurrying back into her bathroom to quickly change and put the plunger back where it belonged. She left John alone for only a minute or two as she exited the bathroom and was glad to find that he had listened for once.
She sat down at the foot of her bed next to him. Joss reached out and took his hand that was holding the cufflink into hers, linking their fingers as they held onto it together, trying to comfort him.
"Tell me what happened." she asked softly as she ran the fingers of her other hand over his hand she held.
He didn't look at her and, at first, he remained silent before finally speaking; "I got to Maryland and stopped at a gas station where surveillance placed Root being at in the morning when I received a call from Fusco," John began.
Joss nodded as he stopped. "Okay, go on…" she led.
"Fusco learned that Root went after a man named Denton Weeks, who was in the same government business as Alicia Corwin."
"Was?" Joss questioned.
"Root killed him. I'm sure the FBI is going to keep it quiet and search for Root; I found Denton bound and shot in the chest when I got to the cottage that a woman who was Denton's girlfriend owned. It was in Relton Maryland near the gas station I placed Root in the morning," he explained gravelly. Joss squeezed his hand in sympathy. "When I got there Finch and Root were already gone but I found his cufflink near a cordless phone. Harold left me a trail to find him and I failed him," he said in utter despair.
"John, I doubt that," she argued.
He looked at her with anguish and anger in his eyes. Anger at himself, anger at her, probably because she refused to stop believing in him. But she always would. He had proven time and time again that he was good on his word even if she didn't fully agree with his ways of going about what was needed to be done.
"I didn't save him, did I?" he snarled. John was all bark and no bite, at least with her; it was something she learned a long time ago.
"Finish telling me what happened; you want me to make a rash decision that all this is your fault when I haven't heard a single thing that proves it is," Joss replied shortly. "Tell me what trail Finch left for you to follow," she insisted.
John swallowed hard as he looked away. "Finch used a variation of the tap code on a cordless phone. He left me a series of numbers and I translated it to mean: train station. I headed there and I couldn't find him. They must have already left and there weren't any more clues to go on; the trail had run cold," he whispered.
Joss nodded, digesting everything he just said. "So how is that your fault?—you figured out the clue he left you and when you got there, he wasn't. Did you check the train times and destinations?" she asked.
"I did. A train left about fifteen minutes before I got there so they could have possibly boarded that one and that was going south. And then there was one that was boarding while I was there and that one was going west but I didn't see him," John replied as his hand reflectively tightened on hers.
"Get me the name of the train station and the time you went and I'll check into it for you. I'll just tell the station that a possible suspect in a murder investigation of mine was seen there; we can call local law enforcements around the end destinations and put out a BOLO for a description matching Root. When we get a hit we'll hop on a plane and go check it out. So there is still hope we will find Harold, but it just might take a little more time," she murmured gently, rubbing his hand that she held. "Just don't give up hope, John, please."
John looked at her. "You don't know that we'll find him," he rasped.
"You don't know we won't either," she reasoned. John sat and stared at her, didn't argue further but didn't exactly look like he agreed with her. "So what are you going to do now about these people you are supposed to be either helping or stopping? You're still going to work that even with Finch being MIA, right?"
"I'm the contingency," he replied bitterly. She wasn't sure what that meant but she was going to damn well find out.
"Care to explain?"
John looked at her and he removed his hand from hers as he climbed to his feet pocketing the cufflinks. "I can't," he said simply.
"Can't or won't?" she demanded as she got to her feet too, crossing her arms over her chest. "John, I believe you want to tell but you're remaining silent because of Finch; but you're going to need help to work these cases now that you're alone and I want to help you; but to do that I need to know where you are getting your information."
Joss could see he looked torn. "John, you told me that I wasn't alone; well neither are you. You have me," she added knowing she was twisting his arm. She knew that John needed to find Finch but she also knew that he needed to continue to working these cases because it was more than just a job to him.
He looked at her immediately, eyes wide and vulnerable and she knew she had him. He just needed another little nudge. "John, trust me," she implored. "Trust me to have your back just like you always had mine."
John exhaled as he ran a hand through his short hair. "That was low," he muttered.
She chuckled a little. "You're trying to out argue with a former Army Interrogator, John. You aren't going to make it," she teased, feeling pleased when she caught sight of a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips. "I can keep a secret: I mean you're supposedly a dead former CIA agent that the FBI is searching for and I've been keeping you out of their grubby hands."
The smile was gone in seconds. "It's not about trust because I trust you with my life or the fact that I know you can keep a secret. It's about protecting you, Joss. There's a reason why Finch is so far off the grid, because everyone that knew the truth is dead," he stated forcefully.
Joss wasn't phased in the slightest. "I'll be safe," she reassured him quickly. She had her own ideas on where he was getting this information and she felt on the cusp of learning the truth. John wanted to tell her but his loyalty to Finch, who wanted everything kept shrouded in mystery, was getting in the way.
"You're right, you'll be safe because I'm not telling you," John reasoned.
"No, I'll be safe because you'll protect me. Even though I don't want or need your protection because I can protect myself as I have been doing for years, but that's just you. And I learned to accept that you'll always butt your stubborn ass into my affairs when you think I might be in danger of getting a paper-cut," she said and earned a glare. "I'm kidding…mostly, you care about my well-being. So how about you let me care about yours for once."
John searched her eyes before looking her over then back in her eyes. His blue depths darkened a bit and she wondered what he was thinking about. She knew she was underdressed but damn it: it was close to midnight. It wasn't her fault he just let himself into her home and bedroom.
"Get dressed, Carter. I need to take you someplace."
Joss was waiting for him to explain everything but she certainly didn't expect that. "Um…what?" she asked.
"You want the truth…."
"Yea, but I didn't think we needed a field trip to get that," she complained mildly but she trudged towards her dresser again anyway. Being tired took a backseat to finally learning the truth of where they got their information from.
Joss drove. She didn't trust John behind the wheel with the alcohol she could smell still and the fact that he was depressed. She was going to have to make sure she browbeat her way into his life more often. John didn't handle loss well. As of right now Finch was MIA, but to John that was still not in his life and he was going to drink more, be more reckless, and that was something she was going to nip in the bud before it got out of hand.
She followed his instructions to the letter and pulled up to the curb near the corner of Madison and E 37th Street; when he told her to park that they had to walk the rest of the way. Joss looked around as she walked beside him down a tunnel. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"Finch once said it was the decline of the western civilization," John murmured quietly before leading her to a side entrance of an old building. John pulled out a key and unlocked the door before opening it up for her. They both entered and John relocked up behind them.
Joss looked around in surprise before looking at John. "So your base of operations is a damn library?" she said.
A ghost of a smile came back. "Does that really surprise you?" he murmured.
"Knowing how much Finch loves to read: no, not really. Actually I should have figured this out a while ago and went searching for you," she admitted.
"You wouldn't have found it, Carter. Finch controls the bank that bought this library which then promptly went into bankruptcy. So the property is in limbo, it doesn't really exist in public records anymore. It's being run on generators," John explained as they walked through the trashed litter on the floor.
It definitely looked abandoned and she bet they left it that way so no one would ever think of breaking in here. She followed him up a flight of stairs before they headed down a long corridor to a gated off area that was padlocked closed. John once more produced a key but this one was smaller. She didn't say a word, just watched and waited. Once more he opened the door and let her enter first. She whistled as she came up on the hub of where they did their work.
There was a glass board that had a picture of Caroline Turing, aka Root, taped to it. Then there was a large circular table that held computers and a few books resting on it. Joss looked around for a bit before shifting her gaze from their surroundings and onto John.
She motioned with her hand around them. "So?—why am I here?" she questioned.
He looked around the library himself as he spoke, "This is how we get our information, Joss."
Joss cocked a brow up in skepticism. "From an old derelict library?" she murmured.
John's gaze shifted to her. "Yes," he answered quietly.
She shook her head. "John, I need to understand this because I don't right now. I don't get what this place has to do with how you find out who you are supposed to stop or save," Joss said as she folded her arms across her chest. "Help me understand."
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," John whispered.
"Tell me," she asserted. She might have gotten her foot into the door but it didn't mean a damn thing if John didn't want to explain. Because she was confused as hell. But she remained patient and prayed that John would realize she was on his side in this and open up to her.
"We get calls on a payphone," he said abruptly.
Joss nodded. "Okay…so your source calls you on a payphone. So it's a person?" she prodded.
"No. It's an artificial intelligence, built to stop the next 9/11," John said quietly and Joss's brows rose high on her forehead. "I know; crazy, right?"
"Actually it's about what I was figuring you were going to say. You forget I was in the Army with friends who are still and after 9/11 happened I know a lot of officials wanted something to protect the country; I know the government gave themselves the power to read every email and hear every phone call. It's just I didn't think anyone produced anything, clearly I was wrong," she said. "So how did you guys come across it?"
"Harold built it," John answered and Joss's mouth dropped open. "As for me: I came across it because Finch needed someone who had the ability to do what needed to be done without any physical limitations."
Joss sat on the edge of the table. "The precinct, the night we met….he was man behind your lawyers," she said softly as she looked at him in awe. "He found you because of your fight with Anton and his cronies; it was all over the news about a homeless man being attacked by punks on the subway, including the fact that you kicked their asses."
"Yea, apparently Finch was searching for me for a while and then he had his lawyers bail me out and he offered me a job; this job, to save the numbers," John agreed quietly as his eyes shifted away from her and fell onto the glass pane with Root's photo taped to it.
"Numbers?" she asked. John closed his eyes at war with himself. He wanted to tell Joss everything but Finch hadn't wanted Joss to ever know about the machine. "Please John tell me, so I can help you. I know you said you couldn't tell me about where you got your information because Finch doesn't want you to, because he wants to protect me and I know you do too. But if you're this 'contingency' that you mentioned: then it's up to you to make this call."
He exhaled roughly as his eyes opened and he looked at her. "We only get their social security numbers."
"That explains why you don't know if they are victims or perpetrators," she murmured, getting a new understanding. "So this artificial intelligence calls you on the payphone and gives you the social security numbers of who might be involved with some sort of crime."
"Not exactly…."
"Then what does it do exactly, John?"
"Joss, I think this is a mistake…"
"John you already told me something I was suspecting anyways; that your source isn't human but computer. I had already that much in my mind since you asked for my help on the Andrea Gutierrez case. So far nothing you have said shocks me," Joss stated forcefully. She wasn't letting John bow-out now. He was so close to telling her, trusting her with his secret, and she wasn't about to let him back out now. He needed help and by god she wanted to give him it.
John just needed a subtle nudge. "Please John, trust me; you trusted me this far to show me the library to give information on this artificial intelligence. So trust me with the rest," she cajoled.
She shifted as John sat down at the chair resting his forearms on his thighs, bending his head down. Joss didn't fight the urge to comb her fingers through his hair. It just felt natural to be here for him when he was in an internal struggle, to give him strength and comfort when he needed her. His hair was soft and thankfully free of those hair care products he used to tame his stubborn locks.
John sat up and so she dropped her hand and leaned forward and waited for him to speak. "When the machine calls the payphone it uses the ICAO phonetic alphabet. We then use those to correspond with the title and author's initials on the library books," he said gravelly.
Joss forced herself to not smile at the trust he was showing her. She focused on what he was saying. She looked at the books. "The Dewey Decimal System, Finch is slick," she said with a soft laugh. "I have a question though; if the machine was built to stop the next 9/11 how do you receive the numbers of those who are a part of a violent crimes of just every-day people?"
"Finch said that the machine saw all types of crimes so he had to teach it to divide the things it saw or heard into two lists: relevant and irrelevant. The events that could cause massive loss of life was relevant and it would be passed along to the NSA or FBI, while every other violent crime that was deemed to be irrelevant at midnight the machine erases it."
Joss just stared at him. John stood up to pace before looking out the big windows just off of the computers. "But we get the number that is at the top of that list and sometimes we get multiple ones which is when we enlist your and Fusco's help," he said further to explain.
Joss stood up too. "I see," she murmured, not going to judge Harold. That must have been terrible to have to program the machine in such a way knowing that whoever might have been irrelevant to national security was relevant to someone. "So that must mean I was a number once," she said thinking about the past, before she came to help them back when he called her up to warn her that someone wanted her dead.
"You never were just a number to me," he whispered.
Joss looked at his back, startled, but he was looking out the window of the library and she wasn't even sure if he realized he said that out loud. So she chose to file that confession away.
"Thank you John for trusting me with this," she said sincerely. John turned to look at her and the vulnerable look remained. John was raw and hurting and people from John's past would surely have used it to their advantage but she wouldn't. She would never abuse their friendship or the trust he bestowed on her to let his guard down with her, even if she had questions and knew he might just be willing to share answers tonight. Tomorrow he'd hate her and she wouldn't blame him. "How about I take you home and we'll get to start working these numbers together until we can find Finch," she suggested.
"Joss, the numbers never stop coming."
"And I'll never stop being here for you," she replied as she reached out to nab his hand with hers. "I'm with you, John; now and forever."
He shook his head. "Don't promise that and change your mind," he said, pleadingly.
"No chance of that happening. Ever," she vowed. "Now come on: let me take you to your place so you can get some sleep because we are going to have our hands full until we can find our missing friend," she persuaded and he didn't fight her.
It didn't take long to get to his place on Baxter that overlooked Columbus Park. John sat in the car beside her, silent. "I'll call you if we get a new number," he muttered as he grabbed the door handle.
"How about we have breakfast at Lyric Diner instead?" Joss suggested, knowing John was going to conveniently forget to eat.
"What time?"
"Say eight o'clock or is that too early for the man in the suit?" Joss teased, wanting to drag out a smile even if he was unwilling. A hint of one graced his handsome face and she felt like she achieved some gold medal or something.
"See you then, Carter," John whispered before he opened the door and climbed out of the car and slid the door closed, making it feel awfully empty without him in her car.
Joss watched John walk away from the car and head to his apartment complex. It was a nice complex; definitely uppity, which had to be gifted to him from Finch. If she knew John half as well as she figured she did, he would be in some dump; hell, she'd doubted he would even have a place of his own if Finch didn't push one on him. They'd get Finch back: they just had too, John needed him. Her eyes tracked the lone figure walking away in the dark until he disappeared into the complex. John protected everyone, her included, with no regard to his own well-being; he was the world's guardian and she would be his.
With that thought she smiled softly as she turned her head, pulled away from the curb and drove home.
AN: See...my muse is twisted! I've been advised that I need to finish this :D