****Heads or Tails
"There's not a woman alive who can fix you, John."
Why were those words echoing in his ears right now? He was second guessing his resolve, wondering if he was making the right choice.
At the time Zoe had said those words to him he had believed them. Jessica was long gone and she'd taken the last good part of him with her. No woman could ever take her place; no woman could ever regenerate the part of his heart that was dead. No woman would ever want who he'd become.
"Do you need some help?"
That one question had changed his life forever. He always came back to it when things got hard. Her words, her demeanor, her capacity to love, everything about Joss had slowly gathered all the scattered pieces of his heart and patched them back together.
Zoe had been wrong.
Without knowing it, without knowing he'd even wanted it, Joss had become a permanent fixture in his life and over time, his heart as well.
He crossed the street, his shoes hitting the pavement quietly. He rang the doorbell thinking he'd never been more nervous in his entire life.
It hadn't been more than fifteen minutes that Carter had been in bed that she'd managed to slip into a reluctant doze. It was interrupted though, by what she swore was the sound of someone ringing her doorbell. Taylor was out of town and she wasn't expecting anyone, she couldn't fathom just who it could be.
She thought she imagined it for a while as a silence followed, but she ended up throwing the covers off her and slipping her bedroom slippers on to see who it was when she heard the sound again. She cut the light on in the living room and looked through the peep hole, taken aback at who it was. She slowly opened the door.
John looked down at her nervously almost as if he was expecting to be turned away. He looked nervous, desperate almost and he didn't speak. Neither did she as she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. She closed the door behind him, locking it and stared at him for a while. He regarded her in kind, his eyes taking in the full sight of her. Wearing only pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, she felt suddenly naked and vulnerable under his scrutiny. It had been some time since they'd been this close to each other. Once before she'd melted in his arms, now the small distance between them seemed like the expanse of an ocean.
He looked just as Fusco had said. He looked tired, worn out, heavy. He looked like he had seen much better days than this. There were circles under his eyes; he probably slept as much as she had in the last few weeks. He looked like he desperately needed taking care of.
She took in a deep breath, wondering what had brought him here, but at the same time glad that he was. How was it that she had been waiting for him and hadn't known that she was? Why were tears stinging her eyes at the mere presence of him?
"How are you, Joss?" He finally spoke, his voice unsteady and he swallowed hard.
"Take a look at me, John. You tell me." She answered and he pursed his lips together, nodding. "You don't look too good yourself."
"You're the third person today who's told me how great I've been looking lately." The laugh that followed didn't quite reach his eyes.
She kissed her teeth, regretting the callous remark. He was evidently hurting just as she was. It probably took a lot for him to come over tonight.
"I'm sorry." She said softly.
"No, Joss. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for…." He struggled to get the words out and the tears that hovered on his bottom lid were in danger of falling. Whatever else he wanted to say remained stuck in his throat.
There was so much she wanted to say to him, to reassure him. There were so many words she wanted to hear.
"…I'm sorry I left you all alone."
She hadn't been aware she was holding her breath until he'd said the words.
"…..whether you like me or not, Joss….you're not alone."
She'd been flat on her back when he'd made that promise. She'd almost died and would have if it hadn't been for him.
He seemed to be asking her forgiveness somehow. He needed something from her…. assurance, absolution.
He moved ever so slightly, he moved and he was closer. He held his hand out and took hers hesitantly while looking at her.
She let out a dry sob as he held her hand, expelling the breath that had been so tightly wound up in her chest.
He came closer still, until he was right in front of her.
He was relieved she had let him in. Grateful that she hadn't told him to get lost. He was expecting her rejection, he was expecting to be turned away, but she'd done the opposite.
He looked at her in her nightclothes, dwarfed next to his height, her hair on her shoulders and she never looked more beautiful. He could see she was troubled, he could see she wasn't herself. But even though he could feel the tension in the air, he could still see her concern for him behind her eyes.
Her hand was in his, he could feel the fabric of her outfit brush against his coat. He could smell her soap; he could feel her breath against the front of his shirt. She wouldn't look at him; instead she was staring at his chest.
She squeezed his hand and he heard another dry sob escape her throat. He took her palm and rested it against the side of his face closing his eyes at the soft touch. It was what he had wanted for so long, what he'd been craving and what he'd been afraid to get attached to.
She moved and she leaned on him, needing his support it seemed. He flung his hands around her finally, pulling her tightly against him. He felt her arms go around his waist and as she squeezed him, he could feel her chest rise and fall as she whispered his name over and over.
He rubbed her back, caressed her face, ran his hands over her hair, needing to touch her everywhere, needing to feel her close.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered again. "I'm so sorry, Joss."
Her hands were fisted into the fabric of his coat as she held onto him, not wanting to let go and they stood there holding each other for what seemed like hours.
"Where've you been John?" She spoke finally, breaking the heavy silence.
"I don't know, Joss, I was…..hiding….I was running away….."
"From me?" She asked, looking up at him.
"From you, from myself. I couldn't understand why you did what you did. I couldn't wrap my head around it."
"I had to."
"Finch told me, about the DNA results, my fingerprints…you being attacked by one of Chapel's men. I couldn't…."
"I had to." She insisted and he rested his hands on her shoulders.
"Why?" He whispered. "Why, Joss? You risked so much for me."
"You know why, John." Her head was buried in his chest, her voice muffled. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. He was crying now, they both were and the look in her eyes was the same one she'd given him when he walked out of the DOD facility. He shook his head.
"No….I don't deserve that….you shouldn't….."
"John I don't know what either of us deserves right now. But I…I can't sleep…I feel… lost. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Not since…..."
He nodded his head.
"I keep seeing Donnelly…everywhere I go. I feel like he's dead because of me."
"Don't." he bent his forehead to hers. "It wasn't your fault."
"I feel like it is. I feel like…..I can't forgive myself."
They were the same he thought, as she stood weeping into his chest. They were the same. They were carrying around identical burdens, for different people, past offences, but the same burden nonetheless.
He sought to soothe her, sought to ease some of her affliction as best as he could. He told her she was a good cop, a good person. He assured her there was nothing she could have done to save Donnelly. He told her that the blame lay with him, rested fully on his shoulders and that she had nothing to forgive herself for.
After a while her tears subsided and he wiped at her cheeks, drying them.
"I missed you so much." She said as fresh tears started to fall from her eyes. His hand slid around her neck and he pulled her close again, holding her.
"I missed you too, Joss." When he looked at her again, she managed a smile. "I missed you too."
She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. Silently he followed and kept still while she helped him out of his coat and jacket and unbuttoned his shirt for him. He took off his shoes and pants and he was left in his underwear. She took off her bedroom slippers and the two of them lay in bed together, her back to his chest with his arms clasped around her.
"I was worried about you, after Kara took me. I wondered how you were doing, if you were alright."
"I was worried about you. I wasn't the one with a bomb strapped to my chest, remember."
"Still…I didn't know if you were in a hospital somewhere or if you'd died. It didn't matter what happened to me."
"Yes it did matter. To all of us. We'd been trying to find you all day. Finch was working like a fiend."
"And you finally did. You came charging up those stairs and through that door…."
"And you insisted you wanted to die alone." Her voice cracked as she said the last two words.
"I didn't. I just didn't want you hurt, not after everything I'd already put you through." She sighed, and he bent down to bury his face in the back of her neck. "You'd been through enough; you still had Taylor to live for. I was glad to see you were safe, I would have died happy knowing that at least you'd be okay."
"I couldn't be okay without you, John." The impact of her words hit him, hard. "I think it's time that both of us admit just…how much we need each other. Neither of us expected it. We still don't know exactly how we're supposed to deal with it, but we can at least acknowledge that it's there. It has been for a while. It just got stronger after Rikers."
"Everyone I care about….ends up getting hurt. When I think of what happened….you would have lost your career if Donnelly had survived, your freedom, your son. You almost lost your life."
"But I didn't. And neither did you. You're in my bed. I'm in your arms. I think we've moved past worrying about who's going to be hurt."
"Haven't we?" She turned round in his arms to face him when he didn't respond.
"I guess we have."
There was no more time for guessing. She'd seen and so had he that time was short. Things could change in a matter of seconds for them. She needed more than just guessing.
"What do you want, John?" She moved out of his embrace and sat up in bed next to him. "Really? We can lay here, go to sleep and tomorrow things can go back to the way they were. We'd know that we both care about each other, maybe even…..feel something deeper for each other. … "
"When I was coming out of Rikers the only thing I wanted to do was see you, be near you. But I'm afraid, I'm afraid you'll be hurt because of me."
She nodded in the dark, understanding his fears perfectly. She'd felt helpless as Lionel pulled her away and she watched him walked up the stairs alone. She wanted to go after him. She didn't want him to go up there alone. She wanted to scream, she wanted to scream her lungs out, but she couldn't.
"I don't want to lose you, John. I almost did on that rooftop."
"You won't."
He pulled her down toward him and kissed her. It had been so long since she'd felt his lips on hers and she missed the intimacy they'd shared in the past. His mouth opened under hers and he slid his tongue out coaxing her lips open, teasing her tongue, tasting her mouth. He touched her face as he kissed her throat, the hollow of her cheeks, then her lips again.
They held each other again in silence and she lay against his chest closing her eyes.
"Are you gonna be here in the morning?" She didn't want to think of him slipping out of bed without telling her. They still had a long way to go, but she felt as if they'd at least made a step in the right direction.
"I will, Joss. Yes."
