"Where am I going?" Joss asked after a moment.

"Do you have a cell phone on you?" He asked instead of answering her.

"Yes"

"Give it to me." His voice was breathy. She maneuvered in her seat, keeping a hand on the steering wheel as she pulled out her cell phone, then handed it to him. He took it, his hand was bloody, and he opened the window and sent it flying along with his.

"You owe me a hundred bucks," She grouched, a little irritated that her new phone was just flung out the window of a speeding car. She slid her gaze off the road for a moment to look at him. "I'm Detective Jocelyn Carter, I'm here to help you."

"Be quiet and keep driving," his sharp order was rough with pain, her own gun was digging into her hip, but it didn't matter. In her one quick glance she was worried at the clammy look of his skin, the sweat beading above his upper lip, and his paleness.

"Mr. Davis, we were there to help you; I know a safe place we can go." Carter tried again, but he dug the barrel of the gun harder into her side.

"I don't know how you know my real last name, nor do I care at the moment, but I said to be quiet and drive, so please detective, do as I say." His voice was low and dared her to defy him. She wasn't frightened of this man even though he worked for the CIA, how could she when he was bleeding buckets, barely hanging onto consciousness by sheer determination only. She remained quiet a full minute before speaking again.

"I have a source that told me you were in trouble." His rough and pained sigh told her he was annoyed with her.

"Who do you work for?"

"The NYPD, as I said I am Detective Jocelyn Carter." She reiterated in agitation. If she could just take this man to one of Finch's many safe houses, they could get Shaw to look at him, she had a medical background. "I promise you, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help you, Mr. Davis," Joss plead.

"My name isn't 'Davis' anymore, it's 'Reese' and I learned a long time ago that in the end we're all alone," he ground out. That was a sad philosophy if you asked her, but judging from the haunted blue eyes of his, he had seen enough in his life to make him believe it. She didn't expect him to just trust her, not when his own agency just tried to kill him. She needed to connect with him, get him to trust her some other way.

"Is it okay if I call you John?" she couldn't call him Reese, it wasn't his real last name, and he didn't want to be called Davis.

"Whatever..."

"Can I take you to one of my friend's safe houses? He is extremely paranoid and secretive, you'll be safe there?"

"No."

"Please, you have the CIA after you and you're bleeding profusely. Shaw, the woman I was with, she has a medical degree, she can help."

"I'll be fine on my own; I just don't know what to do with you." He murmured and she wanted to demand how he knew he'd be fine on his own when he looked like he was about to lose consciousness at any moment. But she didn't, instead she remained silent. "Next road, make a right,"he directed. She felt like she drove in circles for a while, until he told her to stop at a convenience store.

"Detective, you have money on you?" his voice was growing weaker by the second.

"Yes."

"Good, buy a first aid kit, long pliers, super glue, and a bottle of whiskey. If you take longer than five minutes or I hear a single siren, I'll go inside and I'll shoot you and anyone else I see...anyone," he said while she searched his eyes. She didn't believe him but she was going to pretend she did. His small list was everything he needed to yank a bullet out of himself, and she knew if they didn't stop his bleeding soon he was going to die. She didn't say a word as she exited the car, making a mad dash for the convenience store.

The clerk greeted her but she didn't bother responding. Her mind was on her task, worried that if it took longer than five minutes he would just drive off without her and the items he needed to survive. She bought and paid for the stuff with two minutes to spare, and she rushed out to the running car. Joss opened the back door throwing in the bag, before climbing back into the car. He had been resting his head against the headrest, eyes shut, but the moment the door opened he was alert.

"I got everything," she said quietly with a nod to the backseat.

"Drive," he said quietly, she turned in her seat and pulled out of the convenience store's parking lot. When he didn't give her any instruction on where to go, she felt the need to hurry the man up, he was losing a lot of blood.

"Where to, as I see it we need to get somewhere before you bleed out?!" she snapped, angry with him for not letting her call her friends that could help; angry with herself because she was angry with him about not letting her call her friends to help, because he had no reason to trust her. But even so her worry made her words come out short, clipped, and angry. "I didn't get into a shootout with the CIA to save your ass just for you to let yourself bleed out."

"Find a motel and pay for a room." She nodded curtly, happy he had a plan of some kind. Maybe when he passed out she could call Finch and Shaw to get real medical attention for him. She drove them for another ten minute ride until she saw a Motel 6 off in the distance. His breathing was labored, his eyes were half shut, and she was worried.

"John!" She said loudly causing the man to jump. "We're almost there, just hang on a little longer, okay?" She looked at him compassionately. They still had no idea why the CIA wanted him dead. Her first concern was keeping him alive, then they would figure out why the CIA wanted him dead, and then they could figure out what to do with him. She pulled into the motel parking lot. "I'll be right back." She slid from the car, running into the office to get a room.

She pulled out her wallet, going for her MasterCard, flopping it on the scratched wooden desk. The man looked up and smiled.

"I need a room, doesn't matter what it is, just a room, first floor, and quick."

"Oh got a hot one, huh?" he smirked. She didn't care if this man thought she was going to have sex with a guy or not. She snatched the keycard and her credit card out of his hand, running back outside and to the running stolen vehicle. When she climbed back in Davis was awake. Her gun still pointed at her, she drove them to a parking spot closet to the number on the room key. She parked, cut the engine, climbed out and stopped to get the bag from the convenience store, before running around the car to find him struggling to get out.

"Let me help you," she whispered.

"Stay away." He shoved her back, hardly moving her, but used what little strength he had left to get out of the car himself. He stumbled into her, and she wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up. "I said stay away," he stared down at her. They were so close his breath washed over her face.

"And I said let me help you."

He didn't say anything in return as they struggled to the black door with a peephole in front of them. It was so dark out she barely could see if she was inserting the keycard into the mechanism right or not. When she heard a click she figured she had. She pushed the heavy door open, helping John inside, turning on a light, before sliding the door shut behind them. She slid the deadbolt shut, closed the curtains, plopped the bag from the store onto a table, and began flinging her jackets off. John, for his part staggered to the lone bed, gracelessly falling on it rather than sitting down. He was having a hard time sitting up. He was shaking her gun aimed towards her, she ignored it as she walked to him. Joss slid her hands under his jacket under a suit blazer and eased them off his broad shoulders. She pulled until he lifted a little so she could slide his jackets free and threw them onto the floor.

"Go, before I change my mind but be warned do not come back," he mumbled.

"No, I'm not leaving you alone to die." She pushed his arms aside, tearing at his soft blue dress shirt. Buttons flew, he sucked in a gasp as the dress shirt pulled against his wound, making her feel bad. He didn't have an undershirt on, thankfully. His chest was muscled and she nearly cried when she saw blood oozing out of his gunshot wound to his side. She could just barely see the bullet still lodged inside him.

"Detective, where are your cuffs?" She sighed, hoping he hadn't remembered them. Her gun was still clutched in his left hand like a lifeline, afraid she was going to hurt him further. She straightened her posture, hands going slowly behind her back for her cuffs in her back pocket, before pulling them out. She noticed his glazed blue eyes roving over her body from head to toe before lifting back up to her eyes. "Give them to me."

"Only if you promise to let me help you." She bargained. This man didn't seem to like relying on others and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to save himself.

"You seem to forget I have your gun, detective." He countered as he moved the gun in his hand to prove his point. She wanted to roll her eyes, he just didn't get it, that she didn't believe he would use it on her.

"Give me your word that if I give you the cuffs you'll let me help you, and I'll believe you, John," she said, which went against everything inside her. People had to earn her trust, she never gave it freely. But if she wanted him to trust her she needed to show him some in return. He just eyed her for a moment with confusion mixed in with his pained expression before he nodded.

"You have it," he whispered. She handed him the cuffs, while he watched her like a hawk, as if expecting her to go for the gun he clutched. He was very suspicious, he reminded her of Finch a little.

"I'm going to get the bag of stuff you wanted," she motioned behind her at the table near the door that she laid the bag on. He didn't say a word, just watched her as she moved with quick steps. She was back beside him in seconds.

"Who are you?"

"I already told you, I'm Detective Jocelyn Carter," she called out, exasperated, as she ran into the bathroom, opening the small cabinet, looking for hand towels. She grabbed two, one she wetted with tepid water and the other she kept dry. When she exited the bathroom, he had changed positions a little on the bed, leaning against the pillows, and he had removed his shirt. His wound was nasty and the first thing you saw. His well toned wide chest with nice muscles was second.

"That's not what I meant," he whispered when she came close to him, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, their hips touching. Her gun clutched in one hand aimed at her, and in the other were her handcuffs. She didn't bother looking in his eyes, as she opened the first aid kit.

"What do you mean then?"

"What type of person goes out of their way to save a monster?" he cocked his head to the side, watching her thoughtfully as she began wiping his wound with the wetted towel. The gasp he let out was painful even to her ears.

"Sorry," she murmured before opening the bag to pull out the pliers. "I'm the type of person that believes in the good of man; you're not a monster, John, you were just following orders."

"Orders," he laughed humorlessly, causing him to cough and grimace more. "Orders to kill innocent people because they had the gumption to ask questions or they out lived their usefulness, that's not the definition of serving my country, it's the definition of being a soulless and mindless killer."

"Is that why they want to kill you, because you're not soulless or mindless, because you asked the questions, because you didn't follow orders?"

"So, you want the honors or do I?" his voice slurred as his eyes slid half shut with a soft nod to the pliers, not bothering to answer her question. Of course this man had to be stubborn and pigheaded.

"I never pulled a bullet out of someone before," she admitted.

"Well today is your lucky day then, detective."

"Call me Joss, I mean I did halfway undress you and I'm about to yank a bullet out of your body." He chuckled softly. She was shocked he was even conscious, let alone able to laugh at her lame comment. He must have a high threshold for pain.

"You're different," he whispered.

"I hope that's a good thing since the people you know are trying to kill you."

"How do I know you don't want to?" he wondered out loud to her. One minute she was 'different' then the next he was questioning her motives again. This man was a roller coaster ride.

"John, would I be here about to stick pliers into your wound to pull a bullet out if I wanted you dead?"

"I don't know, you tell me why you're helping me."

"I told you we got your name from our source that you were in danger."

"What source?"

"A source, that's all I can say." She inserted the tips of the pliers into his open wound and he didn't even make a sound. But the agony he was in showed bright in those big, brilliant, blue eyes of his. They were so blue, so piercing, they were mesmerizing. "I'm sorry."

"I'm going to learn all your secrets, Joss." He ground out between clenched teeth.

"I don't have any secrets, John." She assured him, nearly crying at the sick feeling of sinking the pliers further into his wound when she hit the metal bullet. "I found it," she whispered with a shaky breath.

"Good," he grabbed her wrist and yanked up, he moaned in agony and she cried out. The pliers were pulled free of his body, bullet between the bloody tips, while he was gasping and sucking in ragged breaths. He beat his free hand against the mattress in anguish. His eyes were squeezed shut before they reopened a fraction. How wasn't he screaming and crying from the pain? She threw the bloody pliers along with the bullet into the bag, wiping her sweaty hands on her slacks. He was now holding both the handcuffs and gun in his hands once more.

"John, you with me still?" she asked as she wiped at his wound first with the wet towel then the dry one feeling him flinch, before she yanked out the super glue, opening the cap.

"Uh-huh,"

"I'm going to have to pinch your wound together when I put the super glue on it," she explained, feeling like this was a half-ass way to keep someone alive. She couldn't wait until unconsciousness took over him. He was so mistrusting, he wouldn't willingly allow her to call Shaw for help.

"T-tell me a-about yourself," he demanded, his words were stuttered from pain. She leaned down to grab the whiskey hidden in the bag, snapping the plastic around the cap off, and handed it to him. He greedily took healthy swigs of it.

"I was in the army, did tours in Iraq and Afghanistan," she murmured, giving him a few seconds, but she really needed to close his wound before he bled to death. "I was an interrogator."

"Were you now," he whispered after he swallowed some more alcohol before putting it down on the nightstand. His stuttering was gone perhaps thanks to the alcohol, or he was close to losing consciousness, she wasn't sure which at this point. She eyed him which he nodded curtly which told her he was ready. "Married?" he shuddered as she pinched his wound together with one hand, before turning the super glue up and over squeezing a generous amount of the adhesive into the open wound. He sucked in a breath.

"Was, divorced now."

"What happened?" she dropped the adhesive down to hold his wound together with both hands, her eyes on his.

"He changed, thanks to combat, he couldn't...wouldn't seek help, and I needed to keep my boy safe." She answered before apologizing to him. "I'm so sorry, John," she whispered, tears in her eyes, feeling horrible, knowing she was causing him excruciating pain, but was helpless not to. They needed to close his wound and she watched his face pale further. He leaned over the edge of the bed weakly as she continued to hold his wound together, making sure the adhesive stuck while she listened to him vomit from the agony he must be in. When he slumped back, she let go of his wound, happy to see that the adhesive worked, only a little blood attempted to come out. She worked quickly to bandage it.

"Your ex-husband was an idiot." His voice was hoarse, attempting to remain conscious with conversation. She taped the bandage in place.

"Why would you say that?"

"You're beautiful, intelligent, a smart ass, and he let you get away. If you were mine, I wouldn't ever let you go." Had it been any other time she would be blushing from the compliments, but from him it sounded so natural. Or it could be because she was worried over his panting breaths and his almost grayish tint. He held up the handcuffs in a trembling hand. "Cuff one side to the headboard," his voice was growing hoarser and hoarser. His eyes were trying to roll in the back of his head and he stubbornly refused himself to drift off into unconsciousness.

"John..."

"Do it, detective." She thinned her mouth in aggravation, realizing she was back to detective. She took the handcuffs in his outstretched hand before walking around the bed to the other side. Her hands were sticky with his blood, but did as requested.

"Now what?"

"Put the other cuff on your wrist, so you can lay comfortably."

"John, I'm not here to hurt you," she pleaded with him to believe her.

"Do it," he hissed, "before I lose consciousness." She was helpless but to comply. If she wanted him to trust her, she needed to do as he said.

"Okay, I will but only to show you that I'm not going to hurt you and that you can trust me." She snapped the cuff on her left hand, sitting quietly on the bed beside him.

"The key, where is it?" She had been hoping he would have forgotten about the key. But clearly even close to being unconscious he was sharp as a tack. She grabbed the keys from her pocket, handing it to him and he flung them across the room.

"Thanks, Joss." He whispered as he replaced the safety on her gun and dropped it to the floor as he went limp. She was scared he just died on her, but when his chest rose and fell she felt relief flood her. Joss quietly sat there watching him well into the night until she drifted off into restless sleep.

Joss opened her eyes. She looked around not knowing where she was until everything came back to her. John Davis, aka John Reese, their new number had been shot, she was taken hostage by him, and she had helped dig the bullet out of him. She nearly groaned at the crick in her neck, her arm felt heavy from the awkward position she slept in; she looked around. She could see sun attempting to peek through the closed curtains; it had to be morning.

"John!" she called out panicked when she saw the bed empty on the other side. She saw her keys, a scrap of paper, and her gun sitting on the nightstand on the opposite side of the bed. She wiggled over on the bed, noticing he had left it in a position so she could reach it. She couldn't believe he had left and she slept through it, she was a light sleeper! Damn the man with his ability to sneak around undetected because thanks to that, she failed again. Her fingertips caught the loop of the keyring and dragged it to her, before she undid the cuff at her wrist. When her hand was free she rubbed the wrist that was chafed from the metal. She scrambled across the bed, seeing the dried blood on the bedspread. She grabbed the scrap of paper with his blood caked on her fingers. It was a note, he had messy handwriting but it was legible. One simple line was scrawled on it.

Be seeing you again soon, Joss.

-John

Joss shook her head still upset, but a small smile filled her lips, and she flopped back onto the bed wondering just who the hell was this John Reese.

Author's note: this had been the original end to the oneshot I was going to post in Careese Themes. But now since having my friends talk me into writing this out there are quite a few more chapters in store for this AU story. I had to get a different idea for the prompt 'number' :D Okay here is a hint for chapter 3 since you guys are willing to see this through with me.

"I was in a pretty good mood," she leaned against the wall. "Until you gave me the slip, now I'm in a slightly worse mood." Shaw answered still scanning the busy sidewalk in search for Reese, while on the phone with him. Fusco for his part was doing much the same thing as she was.

"Well, if you're going to tail someone you should really do it better." Reese said making her scowl.

Not too sure when this will be updated again, soon though. Tomorrow I am going to post a new oneshot for Careese Themes just for a heads up :) Thanks for reading everyone, and everyone that left a comment thanks for letting me that you are game for this story I really appreciate it.