Carter's frown as she hung up her cellphone caught Fusco's attention as he sat across from her. He grimaced as he shifted in his seat, the pastries and coffee from this morning having done something to make his stomach retaliate against him. "What's up, Carter?"

"I don't know." She was running it over in her mind but it wasn't making complete sense. It had to have been some kind of scam. But what kind of scam would result in this? "I just got off the phone with my mother. She said someone just delivered a brand new car to her. Said she'd won some kind of contest and it was legit."

Fusco's grimace turned into curiosity. "Really?"

"Yeah. But she says she doesn't remember entering anything recently."

"Well, she might have forgot. Maybe one of her friends entered her into something. You know those 'Win a car' things they have at the mall sometimes. I've entered a bunch of people in one of those before." He recalled the spam and telemarketing calls painfully.

Carter shrugged her shoulder halfheartedly. "I guess…..Something just seems funny about it. I mean, she definitely needed the car, but I don't know."

"Well that's good then. If somebody dropped a car on her doorstep, and she's still got all her money in her account, I say get it while the gettin's good. It's not like Oprah's giving away cars anymore."

Carter smiled and shook her head at him briefly.

"What kind of car is it?"

"A 2014 Lexus GS." She enunciated each word deliberately.

Fusco whistled.

"Exactly. Blue just like her Camry that's dying on her."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about that…"

"I know." She sighed. "I don't know. Something's just weird about all this. Or maybe it is just a coincidence." She picked up the paper she had just scribbled on. "She gave me the name of the sweepstakes company so I'm gonna look 'em up."

"What's the name?"

"Waxbill Alliance Sweepstakes is what she said was on the information."

Fusco nodded and went back to his research while she started hers. Five minutes in, he looked up at her and spoke quietly. "You could ask Glasses to do some digging. You know that's his thing."

He was right. It was. And why not? "Good idea." She grabbed her cell phone from her desk and headed down the hall a bit, away from as many prying ears as was possible without leaving the building entirely. She dialed Harold's number.

"Yes, Joss?"

It was still strange hearing her first name come out of his mouth. She could have sworn he honestly thought "Detective" was the name her mother gave her. He must have felt a closer kinship with her since she finally told him she knew about their machine. Also since he most likely heard everything John said to her in the morgue. It was okay, though. She could get used to it. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Not at all." He typed away furiously at the keyboard. "Was there something I could help you with?"

"There is actually. I wondered if you could do something for me. Look into a company. Owner, history. See if it's legit."

Finch looked up from his screens. "Your resources aren't sufficient?"

"My resources are…..slower." She really was becoming delinquent the more time she spent with Harold and John.

He smiled to himself. What a difference two-and-a-half years made. "The name?"

"Waxbill Alliance Sweepstakes."

That did not take long. He decided he would tell her. Because it wasn't an active secret. More of a passive one. If she ever asked, they'd tell her. "You've come to the right place in that case."

Her brow furrowed. "Okaaaay."

"It's my company, Detective."

"Wait. It was you?" Her gut wasn't wrong. She knew something was fishy. "You bought my mom the car?"

"I made the arrangements, yes, but at John's request. He bought the car."

John. Her mouth hung open a little longer than necessary. It was from the shock, the disbelief, the way her heart swelled, the tears that threatened. He did this for her mom? She couldn't even remember mentioning her mother's car situation to him. And how the hell much does Finch pay him?

She swallowed, trying to keep her tears at bay. She hated that man. She hated him so much. "Thanks, Harold." It was all she could say at the moment. She was dangerously close to being speechless as it really hit her. Her mom not having to stress over her car anymore. Being able to come and go as she pleased again while she was still able-bodied enough to do so. No more scheduling her doctor's appointments around other people's schedules. Both of them no longer needing to save up enough money to get her car fixed.

Hanging up, she made her way to the ladies' room in order to get herself together. She hated him so damn much. She wanted to tell him so. Wanting to speak to him privately, she planned to get her coat and sit in her car and call him. Today was Monday. She hadn't spoken to him since that Saturday night. Noticing by Sunday evening she hadn't heard from him, she sent him a text to make sure he- and Shaw- were still alive. It took forty-five minutes to get a response. Yes. You're still stuck with me.

On her way back to her desk, however, she changed her mind. This wasn't a phone call kind of conversation. She couldn't squeeze the hell out of him through telephone lines. She couldn't kiss his face through her words. If she didn't have a long night at work, she would go to his place. Do all of those things in person.

Fusco was still at his desk when she returned. She sat on the corner next to his Pepto Bismol. "The car came from John."

Fusco raised his eyebrows and nodded. When Wonder Boy went after a woman, he didn't mess around. He wondered how soon he and Carter would make the announcement. "He knows my private jet's under the weather, right?"

Joss pulled up to John's apartment around eight o'clock that night. She almost just went straight home after the day she'd had at work, but her options were an empty apartment and some wine, or John and maybe some wine. The part of her that was sprung knew there was no choice really. Still, she'd let the other part of her pretend there was one for a few minutes before eventually making that left instead of the right that would take her home. She noticed the lights on his apartment as she pulled up and was relieved to know he was home and she was going to be able to surprise him for once. Before she got out, though, she started to question the wisdom of her plan. John probably wasn't the guy to surprise if she wasn't in the mood for a gun in her face. She thought about the poor Girl Scouts of Manhattan and decided to let him know she was outside before knocking on his door.

John eased himself into the hot water of the tub and leaned back. The slightly too hot water shocked and then eased the tension from his muscles. He was tired. He knew he was tired because he was sitting his ass in a bathtub on a Monday night. It wasn't something he did. His body was exhausted and he couldn't get Joss Carter out of his mind, so his mind was worn out, too. The last time he had been this frustrated was probably when he was a teenager. This was on another level, though. No one would do but her. No one. His heart was wrapped up in the lust this time. It had been over a decade since he'd made love to a woman he was in love with and the withdrawal was beginning to keep him up at night. He absently wondered when she'd taken his patience along with his heart.

He reached for the cold beer bottle on the side of the tub and took a long drag. He would call her when he got out. Check in on her. He missed her voice. He'd been busy since their date Saturday night and thought she wouldn't appreciate a non-emergency call from him in the middle of the night when he finally got home. He thought back to that night. She had been ready. He had been more than ready. Nothing was stopping them. They had been so close. So damn close. He sighed heavily. If he wasn't careful, she was going to strip him of his sanity, too.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his phone vibrate on the floor beside the tub. He cursed in his mind. That was a full two minutes of relaxation. Only five people called him: Joss, Finch, Fusco, Shaw. And Zoe still had his number if she ever needed his help for anything. Odds were slim it was the one person he wanted to hear from.

He looked at the caller id and smiled. Evidently, the odds were in his favor tonight. He handled the phone gingerly in his wet hands. "Joss?"

"I'm outside."

He sat up, the water sloshing along the sides of the tub. "My door?" He looked toward the half open bathroom door and then to the floor where his towel should have been.

"In my car outside. Just wanted to make sure you won't shoot when I come up. I wanted to talk to you for a minute. You busy?"

"Just taking a bath." And thinking about you. "Let yourself in. I'll be out in a minute."

Carter frowned. A bath? Him? "A bath, John?"

He smiled. "Yes. A bath, Joss."

She could admit it. This was something she wouldn't mind seeing. One day. Soon. "I'll be up in a minute." She hung up, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. She entered the building, made her way up to his floor, and used her key to enter his place.

It was impeccably clean like the few other times she'd been here. Lights were on, TV as well. She dropped her bag on the couch and removed her coat, placing it over the back. Wanting to let him know she'd arrived, she walked past his kitchen and around the corner, seeing the bathroom door half open. She knocked. "I'm here."

"Do me a favor?"

Her expression turned suspicious. "What?"

All he had to do was drip on the rugs and floor to where he'd left his towel on the towel rack. But just when he'd decided to do just that, he changed his mind. Because the situation was ripe. And she'd taken his patience. "I forgot my towel. Get it for me?"

She hesitated. For a moment. Something in his voice. Whenever he was messing with her, it would become slightly higher pitched than normal. But it was somehow lower, somehow softer now. She steeled herself as her heart began to pound. He was naked in there. And wet. And she had no idea how Sprung Jocelyn she was going to react to a naked and wet John Reese.

Throat bone dry, she pushed the door open. He was relaxed, back against the far end of the tub, right arm resting over the edge, beer in his hand, eyes heavy on her.

Without a word, she tried to ignore the heat rays being catapulted her way and looked around for his towel rack. Spying it across the wide expanse of his bathroom, she made her way over to it, the clickety clack of her low heels on the floor helping to distract her from the eyes she felt on her back.

He watched her, taking another sip of his beer. He watched her in her suit. That fitted suit that tried and failed to hide her voluptuous frame. He wondered if he'd start from the bottom or the top when he began to take it off.

Joss walked back over to the tub, dropping his towel to the floor. She saw him take one final sip of his beer. He continued to look at her. He looked at her like she wasn't leaving the way she came in. Like he knew everything to do to make her scream. Like a lion sizing up his prey. Like she was the ultimate dessert and he was going to lick the bowl clean. She didn't know by what miracle she was able to find her voice. "Need anything else, Mr. Forgetful?" She kept her eyes on his face when he placed the beer bottle on the edge of the tub and stood, dripping wet, to his full height.

This was her last chance. She knew it. She hadn't come here for this. She hadn't come to break down the last flimsy wall between them. The last thing keeping her from fully surrendering to what she felt for him. The last thing keeping her from having to deal with reality. With all the problems being in love with an off-the-grid vigilante was going to create. It scared her. It terrified her like nothing else in her life ever had. So she ran. It was emotionally exhausting and unlike her but she always, always ran.

And since it was what she did, she turned away from him and took a step toward the open bathroom door, toward her safe place, away from the immediate danger. She closed her eyes and died a little inside when she felt his arm wrap around her waist and draw her back to him. Her last ditch effort had failed. He wasn't letting her run anymore. Her back to him, she shuddered at the whispered "Yes" in her left ear. At the kisses now raining down her neck. At the damp hands running the length of her torso. It was over. Done. She could stop now.

John felt her body tremble as he worked his way back up her neck to nibble on her earlobe. His hands moved up to her shoulders and slid her suit jacket down her arms before tossing it to the side. He pulled her burgundy shirt out of her pants and told her what he knew she already knew. What he wanted her to hear. From his lips. Finally. "I love you, Joss. I've always loved you." He felt her body tremble even harder and placed a kiss on the back of her neck before taking the clip holding her tightly curled hair up and dropping it on the rug. "I want to show you." He turned to watch her, his hands, in the mirror on the wall opposite the tub as he started from the bottom and released the buttons of her shirt. Her eyes were still closed, her body still shook. His own hands began to tremble the more of her he uncovered.

The shirt unbuttoned, he slid that, too, down her arms and off. The belt went next. Her eyes. They were open now. Looking at his through the mirror. They were hazy, hooded.

They spurred him on.

He leaned down and kissed between her shoulder blades. Her purple cotton bra met the floor next. They both watched as he cupped her breasts, ghosting his index fingers across each nipple as she bit her bottom lip. They watched as his left hand ventured from her breast and slid down her stomach before unbuttoning her slacks. His hand soon disappeared inside them and she went weak in her knees. He watched her fighting to watch him, struggling to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head as her fists balled at her sides, her mouth fell open, and her body grew more pliable.

The water had grown tepid, his elevated body heat making it feel colder than it was. His body shivered as the last of the water evaporated from his skin and anticipation stampeded through him. He wanted to get out of the water and into his bed. Drawing his hand back up, he would make up for leaving her hanging. It was just a preview, a prelude. The show would begin in approximately three minutes. He turned her around and lifted her at the waist. She immediately wrapped her legs around his and her arms encircled his neck as he stepped out of the tub. Her eyes never left his as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of wet footprints, the towel forgotten on the floor.

Joss wrapped her legs around him tighter as he carried her and took hold of his mouth, plying his lips apart with her own and snaking her tongue over and around his. He'd brought her close to the edge in the bathroom and left her starving, thirsty for more.

His stride faltered, one of his hands shooting out to keep them from running into the wall. Relying on training and his own intimate knowledge of his living quarters, he managed to steer them into the kitchen and set her on a bar stool. It was another matter entirely to pull himself from her clutches, and it took him a long, heavenly minute to untangle their bodies. He was down to one minute, fifteen seconds.

Panting and yearning and not giving a single damn that she was, she watched as he rounded the kitchen island and opened a cabinet door. Even without the tailored suit as a backdrop, there was significant swagger in his walk. Strength in his slender frame. Power in his thighs. Grace in his shoulders and arms. Eyeing him openly, she appreciated the physical evidence of all he'd put his body through, the storybook of scars he was still adding pages to. The tautness of his bare back. The half moons of his ass. She couldn't wait to drag the pads of her fingers across every inch of his flushed skin.

She watched as he retrieved a water bottle and proceeded to fill it with a few cubes of ice and to the brim with water. As he turned back toward her, she scanned the lean length of him again, coochie hiccuping at the sight of that delectably enticing dick that stopped just shy of being way too damn big.

He set the bottle next to her on the counter. "You might need this." His tongue darted out between his lips before he swooped back down and tried his best to swallow her tongue. And because they had been calling to him the moment he set eyes on them, he lowered his head to devour those brown and perfectly round breasts. He moved from one to the other, laving his tongue in circles over her nipples while reaching down to remove her short boots and trouser socks. They landed unceremoniously to the floor before he slid her off the stool and back into his arms, grabbing the water bottle and whisking them off toward his bed. Time was up.

Climbing onto his knees, he settled them at the center and laid her on her back before depositing the bottle of water on the nightstand. Wasting no time, he pulled her pants and panties down her legs in one fell swoop before spreading her wide and taking his first sip of her. She pressed her head back into the mattress as pleasure began to lap at her in waves, going further each time, reaching higher and higher. He continued to push her along her erotic journey, whipping his tongue back and forth. Fast and slow. In and out. High and low. Circling and sucking and pulling. She clawed at his bed linens, let her cries echo in the cavernous space of his loft, and pounded her fists into the mattress as the euphoria began to overtake her. John in turn set his speed to rapid fire and kept it there until his name was but a pitiful squeak from her lips and she flooded his mouth.

He crawled up her body and hovered, watching her face intensely. Watched what he'd done to her, committed to memory what made her face contort in agony-like pleasure, what made her body convulse, what rendered her absolutely speechless as she tried desperately to catch her breath. Love and lust blinded him. Made him want to do it again. He continued to watch her face, her eyes as they finally opened and focused on him. The surrender in them, the trust. Abiding love and terrible lust.

Again, he thought. He wanted to see that again. So again he went, adding fingers this time. One. Two...Three. He wanted her voracious for all of him, everything he was going to give her. Her staccato-like pants, her strangled cries of his name like a freestyle melody spurred him on. He listened to the intonations, the crescendos and decrescendos, the cadences and chants. Having already learned her, he stopped. It was time. He rose from between her thighs and kissed his way up her body, dipping his tongue in her belly button before lavishing attention to the scars on her stomach she'd first shared with him months ago. Onward he went, on to her peaked nipples, soaking them in his mouth, teasing them with his teeth, blowing moist air over them until she shivered and hissed. He felt her fingers massage his scalp and pull at his head until his mouth aligned with hers. They kissed slowly, deeply, savoring the richness of the sensations, the torture of the moment. She lowered her right hand between them and grabbed at his weighty length, enjoying the moan he released into her mouth.

Covering her hand with his, he broke their kiss and kept his eyes trained on hers as he teased her clit and slit with the head. Only for a moment. Because she'd taken his patience. Slowly, he pressed his way inside, gritting his teeth and setting his jaw to keep control of himself. "Joss." The fit was so tight he almost quit life right then and there. He rocked his hips forward and back, slowly, deliberately, invading her inch by inch until there was no space for air between them. Until there was no possible way of knowing where she began and he ended. A minute passed, maybe even two. He just couldn't stop staring. Into her eyes, all over her face. At the brown highlights he could see in her hair against the backdrop of his black sheets. And he couldn't stop feeling. The way her body readily accepted him, pulled at him, gripped him. The way her hands ran up and down his chest, around his shoulders, and down his back. Wanting to feel more, knowing there was more to her to discover, he withdrew a few inches before pushing back in, repeatedly, increasing the force behind his thrusts and the amount he withdrew each time. "Joss." Again and again he worked his way out before plunging back in. Slow and hard. Gentle then hard. Again and again her name left his lips. Over and over she inhaled sharply and let out a heady gasp as the pleasure and tension mounted. As she floated into that well-known but indescribable nirvanic dimension. It wasn't long until he broke out into a sprint, competing against himself to see who could make her climax the hardest. Building and building into what she thought would be her final explosion.

It wasn't.

On and on he went, slower then faster before cycling through all over again. Only pausing long enough to give her a moment to ride the wave of her orgasm so that she could take the next one. Barely. He shifted her body this way and that, aiming for a new angle to explore every time, aiming to pull a new sound from her lips to commit to memory. She thought he came once or twice but she was lost in a haze of sexual intoxication where she couldn't keep track. She swore Viagra would take one look at him and run screaming in the other direction.

Not knowing how long they'd been at it, twenty hours or twenty minutes, she pushed him over onto his back and slowed it down, working her hips up and down, around and around, reestablishing the eye contact they'd lost and regained several times over the course of their lovemaking. This was going to be it. Finally. Because she wasn't sure she could take anymore. Determined to drain him dry, she observed. She listened. She felt. When his eyelids began to droop, when the seconds between his groans dwindled, when the pressure from his wandering hands increased, she leaned down until her mouth was at his ear. "Let go." She sat back up, frenzied her pace, matched her moans to his, and watched as his eyes screwed shut, his hips shot up from the bed, and a guttural roar came from deep within him. She stopped her movements only after milking him until there was nothing left and fell onto his chest, feeling like she'd just finished a marathon. At some point, she felt his arms come up around her and reveled in the comfort and lingering bliss.

John ran his hands, the pads of his fingers, lightly up and down her back as he came back to himself. Her hair tickling his chin, her soft, sweat-drenched body sticking to his, he listened to the television now audible in the background and idly wondered if it would always be like this. The passion. The eruption. He wondered if there was more to life than just the numbers. If he'd ever truly been happy before this. Before he had both her and a purpose. He pulled his chin toward his chest to look at her when her voice broke through his reverie.

"Thank you."

Confused, he waited for her to continue. If anything, he should be thanking her. For giving a wounded man like him a chance. For giving him a reason not to eat that bullet so many moons ago. For saving him so many times since.

She lifted her head from his chest, remembering what had brought her here in the first place. "What you did for my mom. For me." She felt tears beginning to brew. Damn sex was making her emotional. "I really hate you sometimes, you know that? That was too much." She sniffled and quickly wiped at her eyes, looking everywhere else but at him, not used to anyone seeing her tears.

He turned her face back toward him and looked between her eyes. "You're welcome."

She smiled and sniffed again, shaking her head at him. And just like that, all the fight, all the resolve built up within her all this time, was gone. "I do, too, John." She watched him cock his head slightly in bewilderment. "I love you, too."

He smiled back at her and lifted his head to place a kiss to her forehead.

Settling back down against him, she pushed them back. For now. Reality's cold, hard truths. They may have finally torn that wall down but another one had erected itself in its place. This one stood between them and the outside world. Between legality and illegality. Between his present and their future.

"What is it, Joss?" He felt her stiffen as she realized he was reading her thoughts.

"Later." They could come down later.

"It's okay. Tell me."

She kept her face pressed to his chest and closed her eyes momentarily. He wanted the Band-Aid ripped off. Maybe it was better that way. "I don't know what to tell people. My own mother. My son. I know we want it to but I don't think this is going to work."

He knew. He knew everything that troubled her, everything that kept him from confessing his feelings sooner. He was off the grid. She wasn't. His paper trail ended sometime late 2010. Hers was still active. She had family and friends who would want to meet him, get to know him. There was only so much of himself to give them. She was a non-practicing attorney. A detective. He trampled over the law every day of his life. There was only one way it would work. It was in no way foolproof but it was all they had for now. Until he and Finch found the redemptive peace their souls needed and he gave it all up. "We do what we're doing now. We lie. Omit." He stared at the high ceiling, continuing to stroke her cooling skin. "Whatever we do wrong, we're doing the right thing. If we weren't, you wouldn't be here."

She listened to his words. Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. That's what it all boiled down to. That had been her defense from the moment she'd let him and Finch go after Snow had him shot. He was right, though. She wouldn't be here. In this bed with him. Out on the streets helping him. She could sleep at night doing all that she did wrong because she knew it was right. If it ever went south for them, if they were ever caught, she wouldn't regret it. She wouldn't regret one single life they had saved. She could look her mother, her son, in the eyes without shame and know that they would always, always be proud.

She raised her head from his chest and searched his face. "When did you get to be so wise?" She laughed as he looked as though he was thinking really hard.

"Last year I think. Or it might have been the year before that..."

She continued to smile while she shook her head at him. Who in the hell would have thought she'd end up here? With him of all people? She watched as his face turned serious again.

"We'll tell them if we have to. Your mom, Taylor. We'll deal with it." He sighed and brought his hand up to her face. "Besides, I won't be doing this forever." He didn't know how long he would continue. How long Finch would. One thing had changed, though. He was now thinking about it, the end, a life after the numbers, when he hadn't once before. "There is one thing, though." He watched as she raised her eyebrows in question. "I'm hungry. You?"

"You just made me burn off everything I ate before I got here, so yeah. I'm hungry."

He smiled, loving the lightness in her mood, her spirit. Loving how wild her hair looked. Loving every damn thing he got to do to her and would be able to do again. And again. "We'll do something quick. I know you have to go." He looked toward the digital alarm clock to his right next to the water bottle they didn't stop long enough to touch. It was just after 10:30.

"You kicking me out?"

"You have to get home, don't you?"

"I should, but," she placed a peck on his lips. "You got a bed right here."

He growled a bit as he flipped them over. "I get to keep you with me?"

She ran her hand through his hair and marveled. He was such a beautiful man. Those eyes that gave her life and could turn right around and take it away. That smile he was so stingy with in front of others but gave so freely to her. Those eyelashes, cheekbones, lips. That jawline and imperfect nose. The grey concentrated at his temples, sprinkled throughout the rest of his hair. His heart. It was enchanting. All of it. So beyond excessively sexy. "Mmhm. Taylor's on spring break. Wanted to spend a couple days with his dad. And I can always go in late." She drew her hand to his face and ran her thumb over his lips. "Or not at all." Yeah, he had turned her all the way out. It was a real thing. Because she never did that. She never took time off. But it was a new year. New things and all that.

At that moment, he swore to himself on everything that was holy and unholy that as long as she was walking this earth she would want for nothing except more of him. He'd make it his new mission until she needed him as much as he needed her.

She swallowed. His eyes again. He wasn't saying a word but she heard everything. Echoed the sentiment. She had never been more scared of losing him and she absolutely hadn't wanted this. To get in this deep. To become this powerless. She'd been fighting it almost from the beginning. He could hurt her in a multitude of new ways now. And vice versa.

He kissed her then with a kind of intensity that wasn't earthly in nature. In a way that was immeasurable and all-consuming. Food would wait.

She had wanted breakfast for a late night snack. So it was what she got. Scrambled eggs and toast. Light but satisfying. They lay on his couch together watching television, his arms wrapped around her, mimicking their souls' now permanent embrace. It was well after midnight but neither of them were ready for sleep. They hadn't gotten enough of one another to fuel their dreams yet. They laughed together, Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, and Sophia keeping them company.

The End

Thank you for reading. :)