Chapter 2
February 26, 2014
"We have a new number Ms. Shaw."
Finch let out a sigh of relief as he watched her saunter from the darkened hallway and into his office at the rear of the library. It was still very early. The morning sun was just beginning to slide over the horizon rousing the city from its slumber. It filtered through the large leaded windows; its bright rays a clever disguise for the biting cold outside. It was the last week of February and the exceptionally rough winter of frigid temperatures and snowstorms had been a cruel reflection of how Finch and his team were feeling.
Their line of work had always been dangerous and there had been too many close calls to remember. Too many times they had managed to cheat death once again. Their enemies had accumulated over the years and there was never any way of knowing what dangers would lie ahead as they pursued each new number. However, it was a risk they were each willing to take. Deep down, each of them knew their time would probably be up one day but they never hesitated to put their own lives on the line for complete strangers. This was the life they chose and they believed that saving people, no matter how irrelevant, far outweighed the risks involved. It was what they were meant to do. It was their own way of seeking redemption for their past lives and they never questioned or doubted the value of their actions.
Until Joss.
Joss's murder had caught them off guard. Even though they had all lost partners in the past, this time it had been different; it was more personal. Joss wasn't just another asset to them. She wasn't just another teammate. She had been their friend and most of all their moral compass. She had done her best to keep them on the straight and narrow and had been the heart of their team. She had represented all that was good in the world and had been living proof of how important their mission was. She never judged their pasts, never thought any less of them. She had respected them all as colleagues even though their methods may have differed.
Harold, John and Sam had nothing to tether them to this earth, the only family they had were each other, and the thought of leaving it never scared them; they were already dead. Joss, however, had people that needed her. People who loved her and relied on her presence in their lives. John never fully understood why she did it when she could have easily walked away. Her career she worked so long and hard for, her son she loved dearly, her freedom, her life. She had put it all on the line countless times simply because she trusted him and his teammates. It tore them apart that they saved strangers' lives every day, many of them undeserving, but they couldn't save hers. Joss had been a person that the world couldn't afford to lose and they had lost her on their watch.
They felt her loss tremendously, especially John. She had always been more than just a friend to him. She was someone special who had saved him in his darkest hours and who had helped to turn his life around. From the moment she had walked into the interrogation room that day and seen him at his lowest point, she had understood there was more to him than met the eye. She had believed in him and had given him her trust when most people would have run away. She never judged him for his prior sins, never let his past dictate her feelings for him. She had been his equal, a force to reckon with, and she had challenged and pushed him, never backing down. His respect for her had been great; her influence on him huge. His love for her had been so strong and deep that even he hadn't been able to comprehend or label it. It had scared him so very much that for a long time he never dared to try.
The night before her murder, John had finally found the courage to verbalize how she had saved him, how important she was to him. He had felt like a huge weight had at last been lifted from his chest. His guard, that he had always fought so hard to maintain, had been withdrawn. The future, something he had never allowed himself to think of, had suddenly looked so promising. However, it had all been just a cruel taunt from his dark past. The assurance of a happy tomorrow disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Within seconds, his heart, his soul, the fiber of his being had been viciously stolen. Joss had been the light in his life and her death had left him in total darkness again. He was shattered, broken beyond repair.
Shaw came to a halt, as she entered the room, to kneel and pet Bear who had nearly knocked her over. He had sprang from his bed in excitement at hearing her footsteps come from the stairwell. Bear was the only being who ever actually welcomed her arrival there with genuine pleasure. A glare and grunt of 'Shaw' from Reese, a raised eyebrow and guarded 'hello Ms. Shaw' from Finch, and an eye-roll and 'hey sunshine' from Fusco were what she had come to expect from her teammates. Someone else might have been offended by their unfriendliness, but not her. She detested small talk and forced pleasantries almost as much as she hated to deal with people's feelings.
"So where's Captain America today?"
Shaw peered around the large room of wall to wall bookcases and saw no signs of Reese. There had been a time when Reese would show up only when summoned by Finch or to check in when working a number, but that had changed. In the last month, since returning to work, he was almost always present in an apparent attempt to throw himself into his work and keep busy. He was always physically present, at any rate, but his mind most definitely was off somewhere else. Shaw would often find him staring into space with that brooding look and those vacant eyes of his. A few times she had noticed the well of tears. She had been tempted to point out that she was right about him and his 'just friend' but even she knew where to draw the line. Finch was extremely worried about the state of his good friend but, when confronted, John would just growl and insist he was 'fine.' They knew he was far from being fine but never pressed the issue. They were relieved simply to have him back and hoped that over time he would begin to find himself again.
In the weeks after Joss's death, John had spiraled out of control, trying his best to erase his pain and grief with any liquor he could get his hands on. There was no magic potion, though, that could fix the hole that now existed inside him. The guilt and self-hatred ate away at his soul. He had tried to run as far as he could to escape it but, no matter how fast he moved or where he headed, the destructive being had tracked him down. However, unlike three years ago, this time there were others hunting him down too. Harold, Sam and Lionel were there to rein him in and keep a watchful eye over him. They knew they couldn't fix him, he refused their help and had shut them out, but at least they could do their best to stop him from hurting himself. He still had days when he would be so low, when they could see the worst of the demons come to visit him, but his loyalty to them remained strong and they took it as a promising sign.
Harold paced stiffly back and forth in front of his array of computer monitors in the far corner of the room. His blood-shot eyes gave away that he'd been up all night and his normally impeccable clothing was a mess. His burnt orange silk tie was loose, his chocolate brown vest unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up and his cream colored shirt untucked and wrinkled. He was shaking his head and rubbing his temple with a look of bewilderment. He was wide-eyed and his lips pressed shut in a thin nervous line.
Shaw couldn't remember a time when Harold was ever calm and relaxed. Everything was always so serious and urgent with him so she didn't think today was any different.
"So who's it this time Harold? What fortunate citizen of Gotham is in need of our assistance?"
Finch turned on his heels to face her. "Ms. Shaw, something's not right about the new number. I just-I just don't understand it. It makes absolutely no sense. No sense at all. It cannot be right."
Shaw rolled her eyes and walked over to the large wooden desk just as the printer finished churning out the picture of their latest number. She was about to snatch the paper up and pin it on Harold's board but she stopped dead in her tracks when the face came into view. Finch actually wasn't exaggerating this time-something was definitely not right. Lying in front of her on the paper tray was a ghost. A ghost that had been haunting them all for over 2 months now. Staring back at Shaw was Detective Carter. Jocelyn Carter.