A/N In this chapter we get a glimpse at where Joss is and Finch finally tells Reese.

Chapter 4

December 25, 2013

Joss pressed her face into the soft pillow, desperate to stifle the silent sobs that had finally shattered the wall she had so carefully built the last few weeks, her body shaking and her still-healing chest beginning to ache. Hugging it tightly like a child to a teddy bear, she took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed, unable to control the hot stream of salty tears that made their way down her hollow cheeks. The small spot where they landed on the cotton pillowcase gradually began to spread larger and larger like an ink spot. All of her fears and despair were swelling just like that little wet pool of tears.

It was Christmas morning and Joss wanted to do nothing more than curl up into a ball and cry the day away. Never in her life had she felt so utterly lonely and desperate, not even during the two tours she did in Iraq when Taylor was a baby. She had missed him and Paul terribly but at least back then she had comrades and friends to lean on for support. People she could commiserate with and keep her mind busy.

Up until today, she had fought to suppress and ignore all the emotions that had been building up inside. As a soldier and a cop, she knew she had to stay calm and keep her wits about her if she were to survive. Joss was never one to cry when the odds were stacked against her. Happy tears, yes, when John had rescued Taylor from Elias and when her mother had made it through a health scare a few years back. Sad tears, too, when her marriage had fallen apart and when Szymanski and Beecher had been killed. But never when her back was against the wall. Quite the opposite would actually occur. She would be spurred on, her drive stronger than ever, her determination fierce and steadfast.

Joss would roll her eyes at the women who would fall apart so quickly and easily when in distress. That didn't mean she didn't feel any less than they did. She wasn't any less scared or worried. Her emotions were just as strong but she would simply shut them down and refuse to let them show; she knew she couldn't. She had always viewed crying as a weakness and sign of defeat. There was no room for it on the battlefield, whether in the Middle East or on the streets of New York City. This morning was different, though. As soon as she had opened her eyes, a horrible feeling of panic and sadness had gripped her out of nowhere. Gone was the confidence, tenacity and resolve that had had been coursing through her veins up until now. For the first time in a long time she felt hopeless.

Some time had passed after the shooting before Joss finally realized that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The strong pain medication they had given her had kept her drowsy and semi-unconscious for almost three weeks. It wasn't until they switched her to a lower dosage that she emerged from the fog and realized that she wasn't in a hospital after all. The room looked like a hospital. There were monitors beeping and sterile equipment around but it was really a small private medical facility that only handled cases of the utmost discretion and she was their only patient. The doctors and nurses had treated her with excellent care and were all very kind but no one would answer her questions. Where she was. Why her family was absent. Why she couldn't call them. Was John okay. Why wasn't he there. None of it had made any sense to her at first. She had hoped she was just dreaming but unfortunately she never did wake up from the nightmare.

It had been two weeks since Joss had been brought here from that facility and she still wasn't sure where 'here' even was. She had been sedated when they left and had awoken to find herself in a large, surprisingly comfortable, bedroom. The walls were painted a cream color and there was a small adjoining bathroom filled with linens and toiletries. Anything she could possibly need was stored under the sink or in the cabinet on the wall. A plush lilac rug lay on the floor with matching towels rolled up on a shelf. There was a queen sized bed covered in a beautifully embroidered quilt and a large oak dresser filled with clothes in her size. Everything from jeans and leggings to t-shirts and undergarments lay perfect folded. A small side table sat next to the bed with a reading lamp and a stack of books and magazines. Under a normal situation it would appear welcoming and warm but to Joss it was anything but. The locked door was a reminder of the twisted captor that was keeping her there.

There was very little noise from outside besides for the occasional sound of cars coming and going on a gravel driveway. The numerous footsteps and low murmur of voices upstairs sounded like there had to be a good number of people around. Occasionally she would hear a plane overhead but the infrequency of them made her realize she wasn't near the city anymore. The one tiny window in the room, high on the wall, was secured shut from the outside and covered with black metal bars. After waking up in the room that first day, Joss had dragged the table under the window and climbed up to see a thick forest in every direction. There was absolutely nothing around but trees.

Collier didn't scare her, not after dealing with the likes of the Russians, Elias and HR. The person she feared the most was herself. She was unsure of how long she'd have the strength to stand up to him. She promised herself she wouldn't break. Nothing he did or threatened could make her give up John and Harold. But if what Collier told her was true, she might have no choice. They think you're dead, he told her. No one is coming to rescue you, he said. At first she wouldn't believe that Collier could pull off such a feat, but deep down she knew that if John thought she was alive he would have come by now.

The pain in Joss's chest was subsiding and the physical wound was now just an ugly red puckered scar but she was still very weak and even the slightest activity left her exhausted. She was glad to no longer need the pain medication, that had left her groggy and sleeping for long stretches, but the downside was that she was now fully aware of her circumstances. Fully aware that she was on her own and that no one even knew to come looking for her.

February 27, 2014

Just before 8 am, Shaw waited outside Holy Name of Jesus Church in Brooklyn as its parishioners filed out after morning mass. Regina Carr had never been overly religious but, in the months since her daughter's passing, she had found comfort inside the church's walls. Shaw spotted her and began to follow until they both were standing at the corner of the intersection. She curled her mouth up into a sweet unfamiliar smile.

"You're Jocelyn's mother Regina, right? Hi I'm Samantha Smith. I met you at Joss' wake but there were so many people you probably don't remember me. I worked with Joss at the 8th precinct. How are you doing? I still can't quite believe she's gone."

Regina's eyes lit up at hearing her daughter's name. She smiled back and squeezed Shaw's arm. "I can't believe either dear. I keep expecting her to walk through my front door. I swear at times I'll be sitting in my living room and I hear her laughing in the kitchen. We all miss her to so much, especially Taylor. He's still struggling with the fact that he never got to say goodbye to her."

Shaw took a deep breath, trying her best to be patient but it was beyond her control. She had a question and she wanted an answer.

"Mrs. Carr, may I ask you something? I'm sorry if this is too personal but, why was Joss' casket closed at the wake? I was really surprised from what I'd heard about the shooting. I'd been hoping to see her sweet face one last time."

Regina was taken aback by the tactless and intrusive question but answered politely anyway. "The hospital told us that the damage to Jocelyn was so extensive that it would be impossible to have it open. They insisted it would be too painful for all of us. We never did get to see her before the burial. I think that's what has made it so hard for us all to accept."

The light changed and Regina patted Shaw's shoulder as she began to cross the street. "It was so nice running into you love and meeting another of Jocelyn's friends. God bless."

John sat in his favorite spot at the park, across the street from his apartment. The sun was shining bright and the wind had died down giving a slight reprieve from the harsh cold. He and Han were in the middle of a game of Xiangqi. John was furrowing his brows and contemplating his next move in silence. Han had been sensing for some time now that something had changed in John. The blind man had an innate ability to see what even the sighted could not. Han couldn't see John's pale blue eyes but he could feel that the sparkle in them was gone. John seemed to be constantly lost in his thoughts, lost in general, but no matter how often he asked, John would cut him short and inform him that he was okay.

John's phone rang and he perked up seeing that it was Finch. It wasn't that long ago that he would have enjoyed a couple of days off to check in with Joss and catch up on her comings and goings. He'd meet her at Lyrics for breakfast, pop into her cruiser for a chat, or more recently tail her around town to see what she was up to with HR. But lately he welcomed all the new cases and the heavy workloads that kept him busy. Busy from thinking about her. At least sometimes they would keep him busy. It was often when he least expected it that the memories would come flooding back. The smallest things, even the simplest of words, would remind him of her.

John's mind had become his worst enemy lately and it was during the quiet times that she would come and haunt him. He would obsess for hours over what he could have done and should have done that night. What he could have done before then to prevent it. On numerous occasions he had wanted to take out Simmons and, in the days leading up to Quinn's arrest and Joss's murder, he had known things were at a boiling point. He had honored Joss's wish and kept his distance, even though his gut feeling had told him not to, and now he was living with the consequences.

He would recite in his head all the things he wished he had told her, the secrets and feelings he had always wanted to share but didn't dare. He had always been so guarded and worried about keeping her safe from his past. Safe from him. He had loved her so much that he had been willing to push her away in order to protect her. So much time had been wasted and lost between them and what he would give to get it all back, to have a second chance. He had been lucky to experience not just one love in his life but two, and he had walked away from both. Taking another sip of his mid-morning coffee, John answered the phone.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your day off Mr. Reese but I'm afraid there is a situation I need to discuss with you. In person if you will. Can you meet me at the library?"

Twenty minutes later John walked into the library, tossing Bear a treat. He crossed the large room, to Harold's workstation, in no time with his long strides. He was dressed in his usual dark suit and crisp white shirt.

"What's up Finch? Everything alright?"

John looked around the room as the midday sun filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows. Finch limped over to him nervously. He still hadn't decided how best to break the news to Reese. He figured straight to the point would work best.

"Mr. Reese, we received a new number yesterday morning. Ms. Shaw and I spent the day investigating its validity and now that we've ascertained that it is indeed real we need your help."

"What are you talking about Finch? The validity of a number? Aren't they all real threats? When have they ever not been? And why would you not include me in this case from the start? Is something wrong?"

John was confused. Never before had Finch and Shaw worked a case without including him. He didn't like the look in Finch's eyes but he couldn't understand what could be so terrible that would cause him to keep it from him.

"Well Mr. Reese, it's the circumstances of the number and its personal nature. I thought it best to do some research and…I'm not quite sure how to say this except that the number…The number is…well… it's Detective Carter. It's Jocelyn."

Finch stared up at John and took a step back, somewhat fearful of his response. As soon as he had mentioned her name he saw the pain flash quickly on John's face. It was gone as fast as it had appeared, but it was there. John had made it clear to him many times that the topic of Joss was off limits and Finch was unsure of how this whole conversation was going to go.

"Harold, you're telling me that yesterday the machine gave you Joss's number? Is that what you're saying? And you're telling me that it's a valid threat against her? How is that possible, Harold? Please explain to me, Harold, how Joss can be in danger today when she died in my arms 3 months ago?"

John's voice was surprisingly low and steady, sounding just like normal, but his watery eyes betrayed him. Finch quickly began to fill Reese in on the details of what they'd learned so far, hoping to ward off a possible explosive reaction from him. The expression on John's face never changed though as he listened calmly to everything Harold was throwing at him. He stood still as he stared at the floor while rubbing his upper lip with his forefinger.

As Finch finished talking, John continued to stare at a spot on the floor, lost in his thoughts as he slowly processed what he had just heard. He looked up, furrowing his brows as he tried to make sense of it all, and spotted Carter's picture on the table. Picking it up, his face grew soft and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He swallowed hard and focused his eyes back on Finch. Eventually he spoke again, his voice cracking this time, as Bear sat whimpering at his feet.

"Harold, please… Please don't tell me all of this and give me hope that she's alive unless you know for sure because…

…if I were to lose her all over again…

…I can't do this just to find out you're wrong. Are you absolutely certain about what you saw on that video? Are you sure there's a chance Joss is alive?"

"John, we had her coffin exhumed and she's definitely not in it. I assure you that I wouldn't be standing here telling you this if I didn't believe there's a good chance. I didn't believe it at first either; it seemed so absurd. I know how painful all of this must be for you but we need to find out where Vigilance took her. If Detective Carter is indeed in trouble we need to find her fast."

John ran his trembling hands through his graying hair and walked slowly to the large window. He stared out for a moment at the busy street below, trying to collect his thoughts and gather his emotions. 'She might be alive.' He tried so hard to not get prematurely excited but he couldn't control the smile that was growing on his face and the hope that began to surge through him. He was so overjoyed and ecstatic at the thought of seeing her again. Touching her again. He closed his eyes and remembered her warm soft lips that night in the morgue. How he longed to kiss them again. To see them curl up in exasperation and chastise him again. He missed her so much. He hoped with every ounce of his being that Harold was right. He had to be.

John snapped his eyes back open and struggled to shove his personal feelings to the back of his head. He knew he needed to revert back to his normal work mode as this was the most important number he would ever chase. The idea of Joss being held alone all this time ignited a raging fire in him. If Joss was alive and her number was up they would have to move quickly. He had lost her once and there was no way he was going to let it happen again.

"Harold, do you and Shaw have any idea why Vigilance would want Joss? What would she have to offer them? She has no idea that the Machine even exists and how we get our info. I don't understand any of it. How would Collier connect her to us? And why keep her all this time?"

"Actually Mr. Reese that's not entirely true. I'm sorry for not sharing this with you but the moment never seemed to be right."

Reese spun around glaring at Finch in disbelief, his voice rising. His eyes were blazing at the possibility Harold had kept something about Joss from him.

"Not entirely true Harold? What aren't you telling me?"

"When I was meeting you at the precinct, that afternoon you were released, I ran into Detective Carter. She told me that she had figured out where we get our information from. A super computer she called it. She was right, Mr. Reese, about all of it. She knew I had built a machine that filters government surveillance feeds to determine threats. I couldn't believe she had put it all together on her own. But now I fear that, perhaps while digging around in her search, Vigilance was alerted and they might think she knows more than she does. They might have taken her in their mission to locate me and the Machine."