A/N Thanks once again to FangirlU for the beta, and thanks to Carolinagirl for her invaluable input. :)

*Disclaimer ~ I own nothing you see here.

By the time Joss set foot in the door at campaign headquarters the place was already buzzing with activity. Harold Finch, her campaign manager met her at the entrance and he fell in step with her. She slowed down a little, compensating for his limp. He glanced at the agents who followed her inside, but otherwise paid them no further attention.

"Okay, Harold, bring me up to speed," Joss said.

"Well, you wanted a strategy on how to get ahead in the race; I think we've found a way."

They rounded the corner to her office, and she stopped briefly to say good morning to everyone and thank them for coming in. Volunteers were already manning the phones; some of them had been there from the very beginning, and she always made it a point to recognize the hard work they were doing.

She noticed that John had instructed some of the agents to remain outside the building while two stayed with him on the inside. He nodded at her as he stood outside her door, and she acknowledged him, returning the gesture. Harold closed the door behind them, adjusted his glasses, and turned towards her.

"I see you've brought some new friends with you."

"You knew this would happen eventually. We both did. And you knew they were going to show up today."

"I did. That one just outside the door looks particularly fearsome. He has a glare that would scare a small child."

"Who, John?" she asked, huffing.

"John?"

"Sorry. He's Agent John Reese. He told me I could call him John. He's been with the Secret Service for over fifteen years." She felt like an idiot for even explaining this to him.

"And on his first day working with you, you're on a first name basis? Does he call you 'Joss', too?"

She waved her hand impatiently at him, not even trying to entertain what he was implying. Still she turned her back to him, not wanting him to see the blood that rushed to her cheeks.

"Don't be ridiculous," she countered.

"Well," Harold said, turning his head stiffly and looking at the door. "You know we could try to use this angle of you needing protection and milk it for what it's worth. It could win you some sympathy votes."

"Harold. You know I want to run a clean race."

"It'd be the truth, and it'd paint you in a more favourable light."

"Harold."

"There's nothing dirty about that. I'm just strongly suggesting that you take it into consideration."

She sat on the edge of her desk and shrugged out of her jacket. "Ok, I will. Maybe. We'll see. But I'm more interested in what you were about to tell me when I got in."

"Well, we've stumbled upon some new information on Nicholas Donnelly."

"What sort of information?"

Harold Finch wasn't one given to laughter. He rarely gave in to mirth of any kind, so the smile that came to his lips threw her a little.

"The sort of information that could guarantee he'd have to drop out of the race permanently. And if he did, the vote would only come down to you and Senator Caine for the Democratic nomination."

"Do I really want to know this information, Harold?"

"Yes, you do."

Joss had known Harold for a very long time. After she'd left the military they met when he taught Political Science at Columbia. She was a law student then and she loved his lectures, loved their heated debates in class. He even admitted to her once that she was one of his best students. After she graduated and started her practice, they kept in touch, formed a friendship, and when she finally decided to run for public office she could think of no one better to run her campaign than Harold Finch.

He might look shy and unassuming to the average person, but he could be ruthless when he needed to be. Which is why they balanced each other out perfectly. He did all the dirty work so her hands could stay clean. And sometimes in politics, the game got really dirty. If Harold thought what he found out about Donnelly could make him drop of out the race, the information had to be positively filthy.

"Ok," she said, taking a deep breath. "Tell me what it is."

What it turned out to be was Donnelly having a second family with another woman. A woman who he'd paid to leave the country with their young son. Finch had tracked them down and Alexis McBain was ready to come forward and tell her story. She hadn't heard from Donnelly for over six months, and she was tired of being his dirty little secret. She wanted to come back to the United States, and she wanted to sue the Senator for child support.

"This will ruin him, Harold."

"It will."

She felt bad about it even though she knew she shouldn't. He was a not only a man who cheated on his wife, but he'd fathered a child with the mistress as well. The truth needed to be told. The public had to know. And if it made her look good in the process, so be it.

"Where is the mistress now?" she asked, getting up from the edge of her desk.

"She and her son are settling in at a lovely hotel in downtown Manhattan as we speak. She's been instructed not to leave her room for whatever reason and to stay put until we contact her."

She knew that he'd already made up his mind. The story was about to come out whether she approved it or not. He simply wanted her to know.

"Ok, Harold. Do what you have to do."

Once the door to Senator Carter's office closed, Reese took a look around the call centre in front of him. Posters of her lined the walls, banners hung from the ceiling, and the room was filled with people who wore t-shirts with her image and slogan printed on them. The campaign was in full swing.

He smiled briefly thinking of the Senator's battle cry at home and then once more in the car. Hooah. It conjured up images of her in fatigues, the obstacle courses, weapons training, and field exercises. She might be a politician now, but deep down she was a soldier through and through. It warmed him somehow. Out of the team that he worked with, none had been in the army, so it'd been a long while since he'd had a chance to reminisce about the good old days. Circumstances being what they were he wasn't sure he'd have the opportunity to talk with her about said days, no matter how much he might want to. Still, the thought that they had that in common seemed to warm him somehow.

She'd gone straight to her office with her campaign manager. The man eyed him when they first got inside and he wondered what they were talking about now. They'd known each other a long time. He knew all of that from the dossier that he had of all her staff members, and they also shared a long friendship. Despite him looking a bit wary of Reese, his instincts told him that the man genuinely cared about Senator Carter.

They'd been in there now for the last half hour. Eventually Sameen Shaw joined them, and they remained in the office for an additional hour until the three of them finally emerged together. She went into the call centre, spoke with a few volunteers, even made a few calls herself. She seemed to be in her element, relaxed, authoritative, but she managed to be friendly and accessible to those who worked for her too. These people respected her, they were dedicated and they seemed happy to work for a candidate they truly believed in.

She listened as she got feedback from her staff, was open to suggestions, but was still firm when there was a particular point she didn't want to compromise on. Prior to coming to work on her detail, he'd gotten information on her professional life, military background; he knew she'd been married, widowed, and had a son. He didn't know her personally, however, or who she was in her private life. In his line of work he had to be politically impartial, but as the hours wore on and he watched her from a short distance away, he was impressed with her overall work ethic.

Who was he kidding? He was impressed with her.

At the end of the day, she was the last to leave. Her assistant had been sent home and Harold Finch had left a few hours earlier. He could tell she was tired, but as she locked the door of her office and he trailed her down the corridor to the exit, she still had a stack of folders in her hand.

"Well, you didn't do too badly today, John," she said as they walked toward the car.

"Ma'am?" He opened the door for her and waited for her to sit inside comfortably.

"You kept up with me. A few times I thought I was moving too fast, but turns out you were right there by my side."

"I'll keep up as long as you keep going." He closed the door for her and walked around to the other side.

"That's what I want to hear."

He allowed himself a glance at her in the rearview mirror as they took off. She met his gaze right before she buried herself in the contents of her folder.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Are you coming to the party tonight after the soccer game?

Taylor stared at the text on his phone, then at the agent who trailed him just three feet away. He shook his head, feeling frustrated, even a little angry that this stupid detail was even necessary. It had only been two weeks but it felt like an eternity had passed. He resented their presence, just like he resented his mother going into this presidential race.

She never asked him how he felt about it. Never once thought about how it would affect their lives. How it would affect his life. It just didn't seem fair. And lately she was always too busy, always had a speech to go to, a rally to attend, or some meeting that was just so important. He felt like he needed an appointment to talk to her sometimes. And even when they did talk, it seemed like they were on a timer and she had something more important to do.

He missed the way they used to be when she had her law practice and when his father was still around. He still missed him. Especially now that things were changing all around him. He missed not having him around and wondered if his mother would even think of entering politics if his father hadn't died.

He entered his building at school, heading towards class and out of the corner of his eye he saw Agent Olsen following him. He sighed.

Yeah. I'll be there, he texted back. "I'll definitely be there."

Reese could feel his lungs filling with air, right before he let it out again. He could feel every muscle in his body being used as he moved alongside Senator Carter. They'd been jogging for over thirty minutes in Central Park, and she hadn't shown signs of slowing down. Dressed in sweats and sneakers, with her hair pulled into a ponytail in back and with a hat on her head, she looked just like any other jogger who came here to exercise every day. The only difference was that she had four men flanking her for the duration of her run.

The others agents stayed a reasonable distance away while he kept to her side. She said she hadn't been on a run since before his team had first been sent to protect her. She missed being out in the open air, missed the boost she got from running. She said it gave her a chance to clear her thoughts and regain her focus. He couldn't imagine her not being on an even keel. But it seemed to be working.

He took a glance at her, noting her profile. Even when her skin was moist with perspiration she was still beautiful, still looked radiant. Even in her sweats he could still make out the curve of her thighs, the swelling of her bottom. He felt embarrassed for a moment, unable to shake the attraction he felt toward her. It was terribly unprofessional, he thought. He should be alert, concentrating on keeping her safe, not wondering what it might feel like to kiss those lips of hers.

They were moving, curving. So were her cheeks. She was smiling and shaking her head. "You're gonna fall behind, John. Don't get distracted."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, as she suddenly sped up and started to sprint. This woman was a beast. He wondered what she was like in b-.

Stop it, he told himself, and finally caught up to her.

A few minutes later they slowed and came to a stop. She took the towel from around her neck and wiped her face. She moved to a bench and sat down, tapping the spot next to her so he could sit too.

"Just let me catch my breath," she said. "Not bad, John. Not bad at all. But I guess you have to exercise often, stay in shape for the job."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's your normal routine?" she asked, turning to him.

He was done for. Her eyes were on him, and there was no way he could look away. He did his best not to croak out an answer when he replied. "Ah, kickboxing, jump rope, treadmill."

"That's it?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. Almost like she could sense there was something else he was holding back.

"Yoga."

She laughed, and he turned his head. "I'm sorry. You're just so serious all the time; I can't imagine you doing the 'downward facing dog'."

Her voice trailed off at the end. He wanted to laugh with her, but he wouldn't let himself do more than smile. Not while his men were there. He had to be professional and not let it look as if he was having a good time instead of leading them.

"It's a form of exercise that's highly underestimated, actually." He took a look around the park and got up from the bench. "All posts, Jasmine is moving to the car." He turned back to her, watching her as she got up. "You ready, Senator?"

She simply nodded and fell in step beside him. "So, you'd recommend yoga then?"

"I would. It's not just for relaxation contrary to popular opinion. It helps with your balance, it tones your muscles, even boosts your energy."

"Well, seeing as how you'd personally recommend it, I'll take that under consideration, John."

There was no help for him, he thought. He even liked the way she said his name. There was a drawl to it, a certain cadence that only she possessed. He knew he'd given her permission to use it the first day they'd met, but he wished suddenly she'd kept on calling him Agent Reese. That'd be easier.

He didn't look at her in the rearview mirror when they got back to the car. He willed himself not to. The run seemed to have energized her as she predicted, but it left his brain muddled. Filled with thoughts of her that he absolutely should not have. After he cleaned up and was dressed in his suit again, he felt better. He felt a little more focused. He felt more like himself.

It was Friday. The end of the week. Campaign headquarters were busier than usual. The luncheon for military wives and widows was taking place the following week. Everyone was making preparations for it. The Senator had been in meetings all afternoon with her campaign manager, her assistant, Ms. Shaw, and her speech writer. She spent most of the day in her office, emerging only to get food and retrieve items that'd been delivered for her.

At the end of the evening while she gave a speech to her supporters, Reese stood at the back of the room watching her as she spoke. He liked the way she carried herself, not only with grace, but with authority and confidence. He liked the curve of her lips when she smiled, the way her cheeks rounded out. He liked the sound of her voice, and he liked that no matter who you were she treated you with respect.

A round of applause interrupted his thoughts and she made her way through the crowd. When she finally got to the door where he stood, she stopped and smiled at him.

"Well, John, what do you think? How'd I do?"

"I think you did an excellent job, ma'am."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Ten, ma'am," he replied, and she laughed.

"You are such a liar," she said, and he noted the gleam in her eye. He could smell her perfume. It was a light airy scent, and even after a long day she still smelled good.

"Okay, I'll give you…a strong nine."

"Well thank you for giving me a little room to improve."

She put a hand on his arm, and suddenly a spark ignited between them. For a split second his heart stopped, then sped up, and she looked him straight in the eyes. He swallowed and she took a step backwards, putting a hand to her chest.

"Joss."

Hearing her campaign manager calling her name interrupted the moment and caused them both to look away. "Excuse me," she said, and went to join him.

"What the hell are you doing, John?" he muttered to himself. "What the hell are you doing?"

What's taking you so long?

Taylor slipped on a t-shirt over his jeans in the boys' locker room at school. After a victory over the soccer team from Eastman Bailey, he was in the mood to celebrate. He looked at the text message in his phone and smiled.

We're out front. Let's go.

I'll be out in five minutes, he texted back.

He tucked his cell phone into his pocket and looked at the windows next to the lockers. He dragged a bench over to their side of the room and hoisted himself high enough to climb through. When his feet touched the pavement outside he dusted off his clothing and made his way around the side of the building.

"See you later, Agent Olsen," he said, and jumped into the back seat of his friend Deangelo's car.

"Where's your shadow?" Deangelo asked.

"Probably still waiting for me to come out of the locker room. Now let's go before he finds out I'm gone."

"Olsen to Reese, come in."

"Go ahead, Olsen."

"Jasper has gone missing."

Reese stood a little bit straighter, touching his earpiece and the small microphone attached to his wrist. "Say again, Olsen," he said.

"Jasper has gone missing."

"How the hell did that happen, Olsen?" Reese asked. He looked in Joss' direction. She was still engaged in conversation with Harold Finch, but the crowd was thinning out. Most people were heading home for the day, and soon she would be ready to leave.

"His soccer game ended, and he went to the locker room. He must have gone out the window because fifteen minutes later he hadn't come out. When I went in behind him to check up on him, I found his locator and his backpack."

"And by the time you got outside he was nowhere to be found."

"Right."

"Attention all posts," Reese said.

From across the room Joss looked up momentarily and let her eyes sweep the room. John was still in the same spot she'd left him and he was looking directly at her. He had his hand raised a little to his mouth, his finger near his ear, and he seemed to be issuing rapid instructions. His jaw was rigid, and for the first time since they met she noticed a heightened sense of intensity about him. Something was wrong.

"Excuse me, Harold."

Her campaign manager stopped mid-sentence and she strode over in John's direction.

"What is it?" she asked him. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Ma'am, it'd be better if we could go to your office for a moment."

"Right. Follow me." Joss walked out the door, but turned around when she heard Harold calling her name. "I'll be right back, Harold. I have to take care of something."

Once in her office, she waited for him to follow her inside and closed the door.

"Ma'am, your son is missing." It wasn't what she wanted to hear, especially not with the Aryan Brotherhood Foundation showing up everywhere she went.

"Did somebody take him?" she asked, trying to remain calm.

"Not that we know of. At the present moment we know that he disappeared from the locker room where his detail was stationed -"

"Damn it."

"We are doing everything within our power to find him."

"What about the locator? Shouldn't that help?"

"It would, but he ditched it, along with his backpack."

She paced in front of him, hand over her mouth. "Damn it, Taylor. If he ditched it do you think he just…ran away?"

She hoped that's all it was, because the alternative to that was a terrifying thought. She knew Taylor had been acting up lately. She knew it was a strong possibility that he was tired of being followed and just decided to disappear. But so many people were watching her. So many people were watching them.

"It's a strong possibility that he did. But even so, he shouldn't be out there alone." The look on her face was heartbreaking. She was doing her best to be strong, but underneath that he could see her worry. He could see the panic she was trying to conceal and he wanted to ease it for her.

"I promise you. I promise you ma'am that I will bring him back to you." He knew it wasn't a promise he should make, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Command post to Agent Reese."

"Excuse me," he said to Joss and touched his earpiece. "This is Agent Reese, go ahead."

"Agent Reese we have a location on Jasper."