AN: Hi guys :) I'm back with another AU featuring our favorite couple. Also, I know the title is corny but I was in that cheesy mood when I named this.
I'm going to try to post twice a week.
Disclaimer: I still don't own this stuff but they are my baes and I enjoy writing about them.
John sat propped up against a dirty smelly dumpster, cold and drunk, but not nearly drunk enough. Still feeling the tight grasp of pain and betrayal in every crevice of his body even after drinking an entire bottle of Jack Daniels, he longed for blissful numbness. Drinking himself to oblivion until death took him wasn't working. He needed something faster. Surviving all that he had just to lose Jessica…made it all pointless. Worthless.
He utilized the dumpster to help him stand as he swayed on his feet. It was time to do something a little more drastic to get the end result he was after quicker: namely, buried in the ground.
John stopped to throw away the empty bottle into the dumpster, the mute sound of glass breaking in the hazy background, as he began moving with careful steps to not announce his drunkenness; with his terrible luck he'd have a cop decide he was in need of drying out at the closest holding cell. He had just enough money to get a ride to where he wanted to go. And he knew just exactly where to…the Brooklyn Bridge, where he could take a nice long walk he wasn't coming back from. With the cover of darkness he wouldn't have any noble do-gooder trying to stop him either.
Time lost all meaning when you lived on the streets. As he didn't know how long it took to walk slowly to the subway. Not that it mattered what time of the night he killed himself, as long as the job was done, then he was alright with it. John barely spared any passersby a glance as he entered the J train and sat down. Most people avoided him because, evidently being homeless meant you had the plague. It always angered him at how Joan and the others were treated. He didn't care about being looked down upon because he had done horrible things and earned people's disdain, but Joan was a good person and didn't deserve the stigma.
His body thirsted for alcohol wishing he hadn't decided to waste the last bit of money on the subway instead of the bitter taste of whiskey. John closed his eyes and kept his head down waiting patiently to be at peace. All was quiet just as he liked for a few brief seconds anyway.
John felt movement beside him. His well-trained senses kicked in, it was hard to turn off after decades in the military and the CIA collectively, and he let them. First his sense of smell picked up a hint of Jasmin and something floral, suggesting that the movement nearby belonged to a woman. Next his ears took stock that this lady, who wasn't being all that quiet, sat down beside him with a heavy breath. Followed shortly thereafter by the sense of touch because their shoulders brushed, barely, but it was enough to jolt him, and make him shy away from the accidental contact. Finally, he cracked an eye open to see who dared to sit near him and invade his space, and noted that it was a black woman who had a pretty profile, and whose jacket couldn't quite hide the fact that she was at least eight months pregnant. But it was the fact that she radiated fear that troubled him. It permeated from her as much as her sweet Jasmin did.
Not his problem. Nothing would be his problem soon enough.
But even with that thought firmly planted in his mind John couldn't keep from watching her with his one bloodshot eye and saw her rubbing her round belly absently. It wasn't until he strained to listen that he realized she was talking to her unborn child.
"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll protect you," she whispered with a melodic voice that calmed even the raging twisted animal in him. "No one will hurt you, I promise."
John looked away from the pregnant woman's protruding belly to notice her clothes. She was wearing what appeared to be men's pants and her shoes didn't match suggesting she had gotten them on quickly. At her mismatched feet there was a bag full of clothes unfolded inside it…stuffed in there in haste. She was on the run. From what?—who knew, and he didn't care. It wasn't his problem. She was probably running from the father, he supposed. Maybe he wanted her to have an abortion because he didn't want to take get involved with a baby, let alone paying to raise it for the next twenty years or so. Some men were bastards that wanted to stick their dicks in women's pussies without a rubber on but then don't want to cop to the consequences of unprotected sex. If that was the case, good on her for leaving; if every woman got an abortion because the man didn't want to support them than he wouldn't have been born or adopted to loving parents.
But then a darker thought slithered into his fractured psyche making his hands curl into fists as he fought for control. What if she was running from the father because he was abusive, like Peter, and she didn't want her child harmed as she was? And abuse lead to worse…just like what happened to Jessica.
"Who are you running from?" asked John, roughly, against his will and it surprised him as much as the woman beside him.
She looked up and her protective hand tightened on her belly. John forced both eyes open lifting his weary gaze off her bag and onto the woman's face, and was surprised even more than speaking to her, to find that she was beautiful. All her extra weight was pure baby as her face was slim and flawless, with attractive features that left him unsettled.
"Excuse me," she responded coldly. Her dark eyes were like warm chocolate but were frosty as she stared him down, as if she was used to being on her own, and didn't trust anyone to help her. John let his hazy gaze slide down to her lips that were full and parted. He wondered what she tasted like and the thought upset his equilibrium. Why did it matter what her kiss tasted like? In a matter of minutes he would be going to take a walk he wasn't coming back from.
John lifted his eyes back up to her resilient set as he said again; "Who are running from?"
"What makes you think I'm running?" she asked instead.
He shrugged, wanting to just go back to waiting to die but found himself saying; "From the way you're dressed. Unless you think wearing two different shoes is a fashion statement." She looked down and then back up and flushed before all evidence of it was wiped clean off her face. "Also you're wearing man's pants probably because it was the first thing you grabbed to put on, and you have a bag full of clothes but they are unfolded, suggesting that you just stuffed them in there as quickly as possible so you could get the hell out of dodge."
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded scathingly.
John felt a tired smile flicker on his lips. "I'm a dead man," he said gently before looking away. "Soon enough, anyway…"
Joss eyed the man beside her guardedly. He was clearly homeless, so not a threat to her, or at least, not a major one anyway. With the way his breath smelled of booze she could easily take him down even with being pregnant. But Joss blatantly perused him as he had done of her. He was wearing clothes that hung on his big frame suggesting he had lost weight since putting them on. He had a shaggy beard and wild unkempt dark hair with gray at the temples, and his eyes were glassy from drinking. But even though his eyes were glassy they were beautifully blue, truly remarkable, but painfully sad.
Knowing a man on the edge when she saw one, this man had a giant neon sign reading: "DONE" stamped all over him. He was ready to let go of life, and judging where the J train let off…she knew just where he was heading. She hid here because she was afraid that the people looking for her would find her easily. Joss frowned as her annoyance at his attitude fled and heart went out to the homeless man beside her whose soulful eyes held heart wrenching pain in them, and god help her, she wanted to help him.
Joss grimaced internally because she didn't need this. She needed to get the hell out of New York before Paul's problems found her, and not let her bleeding heart get caught up trying to save someone beyond saving anyway.
This hobo was right; she was on the run, thanks to Paul, her estranged husband. She hadn't seen him since their last pathetic attempt to save their marriage which resulted in an accidental pregnancy. But even though she hated Paul, this child growing inside her was the only good thing that came from her miserable ten year marriage to the person she once thought was her soulmate. Boy, had she been painfully wrong.
They had met in the military, both had loads in common, lust racing through their veins, and had immediately married. She went on to be one of the top interrogators and he went on the front lines, so they saw less and less of each other. But their marriage remained solid as a rock. Then she had been injured in Fallujah when a Marine she was being escorted by stepped on a land mine, turning him to dust and ripped apart her entire abdomen.
She came back to the States where she mourned the loss of her friend and her military career. Joss had been honorably discharged and received a Purple Heart for her sacrifices. As she recuperated and tried to figure out what to do with the rest of her life; she had settled on hoping to get pregnant and have a child. Thankfully, where she had been injured it didn't leave her barren. But then Paul came back a completely different man. The man she loved was gone, a shell of his former self. But not one to ever be a quitter, Joss had thought she could save Paul and their marriage. How naïve she had been. You needed two to make a marriage work, and Paul was not interested in helping himself or her. Their marriage got more and more rocky, especially when she started the police academy, and Paul drifted between jobs.
But as she graduated the academy and put in time as a rookie the worse their marriage got. She filed for separation with a heavy heart, because it was an admittance of failure, and giving up on any dream of having a child. Having already entered her thirties the louder the ticking of her biological clock got. Then as if he'd seen the light, as she worked as a beat cop, Paul started going to the VA and receiving help because he wanted to be a better man for her, he didn't want to divorce. Joss foolishly believed Paul's desire to change, for her, for him, and gave him another chance.
After only two years as a beat cop she got a promotion to the Homicide Task Force. It was a coup and she worked her ass off for it too. The entire time she put in she never took a day off; she worked double shifts and sought out detectives for advice on how to make detective. She was proud of herself; Paul…not so much. He had been still bouncing around from job to job, never quite finding his place after being discharged. Paul's jealousy at her new life built a rift between them that she didn't know how to bridge. Then he stopped going to the VA altogether, claiming he was fine and started getting money for things she didn't know where he got it; buying her ridiculous expensive gifts that she didn't want, as money didn't buy her trust or love. He disappeared for a while and wouldn't answer where he was. It was like he was living a double life and the more secretive he became the more she mistrusted him.
And that last night she'd seen Paul, the night they conceived her child, she made a last ditch effort to fix their broken marriage. She had lit candles and ordered takeout. It felt very much like one of their first dates. Paul had been funny and sweet. She had a nice time. And they both decided to try to recapture what was seemingly lost to them, but as Paul made love to her…she felt nothing. She was wet from stimulation but a dildo could have been inside her from the lack of feelings that their lovemaking aroused in her. The love in her heart for Paul was gone, snuffed out from years of mistrust and pain. And when she couldn't climax even though Paul tried to get her there, after him, all hell broke loose. It was another wound to the male ego that Joss unwitting dealt to Paul. First she had been strong enough to not warrant a need to go to the VA or see a therapist as he had needed. Then a husband being unable to fulfill his wife sexually was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Vile and disgusting things were flung her way as she sat in their bed, naked, and stunned. Bile rose in her throat because Paul, a virtual stranger from the man she married, had been inside her and she wanted to shower to wash him away. After he stormed out, promising he'd find a woman who wasn't a frigid bitch like her, she cried herself to sleep for the lost love, and that was the last she'd seen of him.
It wasn't until she and her partner Detective Lionel Fusco had been working a new homicide case that she learned where that money was coming from for Paul. Paul sold his services to the highest bidder. Cameras caught the murder of a prominent doctor and the one pulling the trigger was none other than Paul Carter. Instantly her captain yanked her off the case and she was interrogated as if she had known her estranged husband was a murderer, but she understood. They needed to do their job. Not long after that she learned she was two months pregnant but she refused to think of Paul as the father. No, he was just the sperm donor.
As time went on there were no leads on Paul's whereabouts. Her captain had her place wiretapped and under constant surveillance just in case Paul decided to reshow his face to his estranged wife and she was fine with it. And if he ever did Joss would arrest him herself, then could finally serve the asshole divorce papers, and remove his parental rights.
Some of her informants got her info on Paul as she worked his case off the books, saying that he was getting entangled with the criminal mastermind, Carl Elias. And that led to her problem today. Paul double crossed Elias and got a friend of his killed, and now he was after her in retaliation. She received an ominous note from Paul early that evening, the first time she heard from him in months, telling her that she was in danger and get the hell out of New York. At first, she scoffed, and refused to let him scare her. But then some gut instinct or mother's intuition took over, and she decided to heed the warning. Having been already dressed for bed she changed hastily into whatever was closest and she accidentally opened the drawer with Paul's clothes in it. Not hesitating because just a few seconds made all the difference in survival she pulled them on, stomped her feet into what shoes were around, and proceeded to ransack her dresser drawer with her maternity clothes and some necessities into a plastic bag. Just as she climbed into her car she watched men converged on her brownstone, breaking into it and gave chase to her once they realized she was in her car and speeding away.
Joss had ditched her car and waited until dead of night to get onto the subway to head…where, she wasn't sure. But she needed to get someplace to hide for a while without anyone's knowledge. The only way she knew how to absolve the threat to her life was using Paul as bait to lure Elias out of hiding. Going to the police was out as she knew, there were moles inside the force that were loyal to Elias. The moment she reached out to her captain or showed her face there, game over. In time she would figure out a way to get in reach with Lionel, her only true friend on the force.
She had to find Paul and try to convince him to do the right thing for once but she couldn't very well do that now, not at nearly nine months pregnant. Nothing on this Earth would make her risk her child's life, even if it meant she had to go into hiding with a giant bullseyes on her back. Joss had no doubt that Elias would search the ends of the Earth to find her to use her against Paul so he could exact his revenge against the man that got his friend killed. But she didn't think Paul cared enough about her to mean much, which meant she served no purpose and she would be murdered, and same could be said of her unborn child.
Which brought her back to where she was currently: sitting on a subway train talking to a homeless man. Joss looked at him as she realized she had sunk into her thoughts and he was staring through her as if he was as lost in his own troubling thoughts as she had been.
"You don't have to go through with it," she murmured finally, not actively answering what he asked her, but instead wanted to try to help this man. Joss wished she could shut off the compassionate part of her but he was a life that she could save while saving her own; if she said the right things than he might not try to kill himself tonight.
He eyed her sharply. "Go through with what?" he asked coldly, voice clear without a hint of a slur even though the alcohol clung to his breath.
"You know what, I've seen men like you before…done with life," she said softly. "You don't have to go through with it. There is so much to live for."
He made a face. "Not when your only connection to the world is gone," he countered roughly. He wondered how she seemed to read his thoughts.
"Then find a new one," she replied just as bluntly, not really in the mood to go about this the polite way. "Let me guess; you're former military, lots of military men and women are homeless because they can't find their place in society after they come back, or they can't find a job because people back here are ignorant assholes," she said conversationally. "But I think you fall under the first option. You probably saw a lot of action and came back different but instead of asking for help you sank into this depression that now makes you feel as though your only option is suicide," she said it as fact. "You're no better than my ex-husband," she snarled.
John eyed this little know-it-all. She was only half right. He was former military, a long time ago, but he didn't sink into depression because he came back and couldn't find his place in society. He had no place in society because he was a dead man, the CIA made sure to it. And it didn't really matter when the woman he loved was gone.
"You don't know me," he remarked stiffly.
Joss arched a brow. "So you're saying I'm wrong?" she challenged.
But he didn't rise to the bait. "Since you have me all figured out why not tell me who you are running from?" he suggested instead.
She shrugged. "None of your damned business," she replied smoothly as she rubbed her belly anxiously.
The train slowed and Joss panicked as she didn't think she got through to this homeless man about not needing to commit suicide. He got to his feet and Joss did as well, albeit much slower, after grabbing her bag of clothes, she'd follow him wherever he went to prevent it if she had to, and grabbed the man's hand. He stumbled a bit and looked at her in blatant surprise at her touch. Joss instantly let him go because for one, he was a stranger and for two, the moment they touched something akin to heat flared between them. She decided it was just her hormones playing tricks on her due to her pregnancy. For god sakes, he was a homeless man!
"Please, don't, I can't let you do it and I have myself and my child to worry about without needing to worry about you too," she pleaded. He stared down at her, making her realize the height difference between them. He was above six feet, had to be. "I'll follow you. I swear it. I'll call 9-1-1 before you ever jump!" she threatened.
A commotion at the door that lead between trains caught her eye and she visibly paled as men she didn't recognize seemed to recognize her. "Oh god," she whispered, as new panic emerged. Elias either had men on the subway trains looking for someone that matched her description or he put feelers out for every low level scumbag to find her and bring her to him for a hefty payday. She had her gun tucked in the back of her pants, after having no time to get the holster in her desperate haste to get away, but there were far too many innocent people in the train to risk taking a shot.
John followed her gaze and watched as the four men made a beeline for them, or rather for her, and she shrunk back behind him. At the late stage of her pregnancy running for her life was nearly impossible. These punks weren't hired men but looked like two-bit criminals which suggested to him that there was a bounty on the pretty pregnant lady's head.
Taking his much needed walk could wait until after he kicked four punk kid asses for threatening a woman and her unborn child. "Move along, we have no beef with you," one kid said to the bum as he stepped towards them, blocking their exit. When John didn't move; the kid looked past him to the woman behind him. "Just come with us peacefully and the troll doesn't get hurt." the kid offered as he withdrew a knife.
John rolled his eyes as he reached out and disarmed the man before twisting the man's arm and pulled, popping his shoulder out of the socket. He screamed before collapsing and John instantly kicked out, as the next kid moved forward to retaliate, pushing him backwards hard so he could switch his gaze onto the other one standing shocked, staring down at his friend who was crying out in pain, holding his shoulder, which gave John ample opportunity to punch him without so much of a fight. He crumpled soundlessly as one well-placed punch rendered him unconscious.
Once the punk regained his footing after being kicked away he surged forward, along with the last one, who was the smallest and was allowing his friends to do the dirty work, and John blocked both their uncoordinated attacks. John wished he wasn't still drunk or he would have this already finished. When he pushed them back enough to make them surge forward again John swiftly grabbed them by the backs of their necks and smashed their faces together hard. They fell to the ground writhing in pain as blood oozed from their respective broken noses.
In a matter of a couple minutes he had the four on the ground groaning, and / or, out cold and Joss could only stare in astonishment. Her homeless savior reached out and took her arm and proceeded to tug her with him as they exited off the subway train, leaving others to gape at them.
"Come on, we need to hurry before cops get here," he whispered, which was the last thing he needed. Public intoxication, coupled with assault even done in self-defense, wouldn't do him or the pregnant woman any favors.
Joss didn't question him, rather simply going with him without a sound; he just downed four men that were going to take her to Elias and once they realized Paul didn't give a shit about her than he'd kill her and the unborn child growing inside her.
After exiting the subway train she watched in disbelief as her homeless guy pick-pocketed a well-dressed man who walked by, before taking all the cash out of the wallet, which was a lot, at least a grand, and promptly threw the wallet away in the trash. Joss realized now that her quick profile of this man was way off. He was more than just a military man. No one fought the way he did not from the regular Army. This guy had to be more along the lines of Special Forces or Delta. He didn't bat an eye at the confrontation, took them down with minimal effort, like it was just a damned warm up for him, and he just pick-pocketed someone as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. It wasn't. And the guy he just stole from idyllically went on unaware of his missing wallet.
Her homeless man looked back at her and she stared at him openly. "What?" he demanded, pocketing the money.
A part of her wanted to reprimand him for stealing that man's hard earned money but she didn't because they needed it. She couldn't afford hitting her bank account with fear that Elias had men everywhere, and she only had limited funds with her.
"Just who in the hell are you?" she asked. He dismissed her question as he looked away. It infuriated her. "Tell me your name, at least!" she commanded as he began walking away.
"It's funny you only need a name now when you're in trouble…"
"And you're trouble with a capital T," she finished for him, as she followed him. Joss really had no other option right now. Being this pregnant with Elias's men, and apparently having a bounty on her head, she stood no chance getting away without a little help. For now she had to rely on this homeless man who had just kicked ass for her. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
"I was thinking the same thing for you, lady."
"My name is Joss," she announced irritably.
Her homeless man looked over his shoulder at her. "Nice to meet you, Joss," he murmured and she wasn't sure she liked how her name sounded on his lips. It sounded way too sensual, like a lover's purr.
She arched a brow when no ready offer of his name came. "And you would be…?" she prodded, annoyed it was taking so long to get a name in return.
"John," he said after a moment.
AN: I know I made Paul a literal piece of shit but just be forewarned.
Also before I let you guys go I am finally now ready to release my dedicated Twitter for here (because my personal one has too much other stuff on it LOL) which has been created like a year ago but I just hadn't had any time to dedicate to it. I didn't want anyone to go there and not receive a response or see any of the things I wanted to do for it. I'll be letting you guys know when there is an update on any story, whether new or not, and I'll be tweeting some fun little things for Careese too that will only be on Twitter.
So if you want to check it out search: iheartshulesFF
You'll see the same photo as the one on here!
Thank you for reading!