"I have to go, John."

Her voice was so soft, so soothing, and Reese would do anything to prolong the moment.

"Don't go. Please, Joss. Stay here."

"I can't," she said. "It's time for you to wake up."

She was fading, as was the touch of her hand on the side of his face.

"Joss, please," he begged, feeling the sobs start to wrack his body. "I'm so lost without you."

"No you're not. You'll find your place." Her voice was almost an echo now, fading in the dark. "You'll find your place, John. Just open your eyes."

"I don't want to."

"Open your eyes."

And he did, sitting upright in bed abruptly, his chest heaving. He was almost out of breath as if he'd been running. Running to hold onto her, to keep the clear memory of her as vivid as possible. But it was just another dream. One he wished he hadn't woken up from.

His cheeks were wet, stained with tears, and he wiped at them angrily. His eyes adjusted to the morning light, the seedy motel, and the smell of cheap liquor on his clothing and bed. He reached for the half empty pint of whiskey on the night stand beside him, draining the last of its contents. The familiar burn felt good, numbed him for a while.

In the silence, his cell phone shrilled, earning it a scowl in its direction. He turned over in bed, intending not to answer, but the ring was persistent, annoying, begging for his attention. He picked it up, staring in disbelief at the caller ID.

Joss

It couldn't be. Someone was playing a trick. Maybe he was still asleep, it was possible since days bled into nights for him lately. He no longer had any sense of time. He answered shakily, his hands trembling as he held the phone. Could it be? Was he losing it? Had he slipped past that thin line between reality and insanity?

"Joss?" he answered, weakly.

"Is this John?" He closed his eyes tightly, hearing Taylor's voice on the other end of the phone.

Promise me…you'll look in on him…promise me you'll tell him.

Feelings of guilt overtook him, made him feel ashamed, humiliated. "Yes," he answered, softly. "Yes it is."

"I was going through my mom's phone. Dad and I haven't had the heart to have it disconnected yet. I was looking for your number, hoping you'd answer. How are you?" Taylor asked.

The last time he'd seen him was right before Joss had seen him off to school one day. His class was going on a field trip for two days. He'd been excited, while Joss was worried about not seeing him for forty eight hours. He'd joked with her about being over protective, but really he admired and envied the closeness they'd shared.

He wanted to say he'd seen better days, to say that he was far from good, but he couldn't lay his burden of losing Joss on top of Taylor's. It wouldn't be fair.

"I'm fine, Taylor. How are you holding up?"

"I still miss her. Every day. Every single day. And I still can't believe she's gone."

"Neither can I," he answered, his voice cracking.

"I was wondering if you'd meet me. Today."

He'd promised Joss he'd look after Taylor, but the thought of seeing the boy stirred up so many painful memories. He wasn't sure he could do it.

"Please," Taylor repeated after his silence. "It won't take long."

"Okay," he said, finally.

"Thank you. I'll be at the house until five."

"Okay."

"See you then."

It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and what Reese wanted more than anything was to hit up the bar he frequented, sit in his usual spot, and drown his thoughts and memories in whiskey while staring blankly at whatever game was playing on the television. He didn't want to see Taylor. He didn't want another living reminder of what was gone. He wanted to stay in his cocoon of self pity and loathing until he finally slipped into oblivion or until somebody was merciful enough to do it for him. He didn't want the reality of knowing that Joss was gone. That's what Taylor was, and he wasn't ready to face that. Not yet.

He made himself shower, and he put on a clean pair of jeans and a worn flannel shirt. Despite the change of clothes, when he stared at himself in the mirror his beard and hollowed out eyes and cheekbones clearly showed the misery that was just under the surface. Not that he was trying to hide it.

When he walked up the steps to Joss' house and rang the doorbell, he thought about how much of a bad idea it was to be there. The door opened slowly, and Taylor stood before him, a few inches taller, his shoulders a little bit broader, and he'd had a haircut. He was no longer a teenager, but a young man. Though he could see the grief behind the boy's eyes, when he looked at Reese, he saw the same look of compassion that Joss cast on him the first time she laid eyes on him.

"John, come on in."

Reese walked inside, looking around, remembering the conversations he and Carter had within these walls. The last one was when she'd refused his help and told him she needed to put some distance between them. He'd told her to watch her back. If he knew then what he knew now, he'd have taken her - kicking and screaming if he had to - and put her in a safe house so he could've dealt with HR himself. And she'd be safe. Alive.

The place was empty. Everything had been packed, all the furniture was gone.

"You're going to live with your grandmother?"

"No, my dad wanted me to finish out the semester here, but I'm moving to Chicago to live with him. My scholarship will transfer to the school there."

"Which school?"

"Peterson & Culver. One more year. And then I'm off to college."

"Do you know where you want to go?"

"Not yet, but I've applied to a few schools already."

"Joss would be proud."

Taylor nodded his head, his eyes filling with tears, looking at John as if he needed something. He was aware of how much Joss trusted him. When he'd been kidnapped he'd known that she'd sent John to get him. That had spoken volumes to Taylor, Reese knew. It spoke not only of trust, but of care. Even love.

He needed to hear it, Reese thought. Taylor needed to hear it from his lips how much his mother cared about him.

"She loved you, Taylor," he said, putting his arm on the boy's shoulder. "She loved you so much. When I held her…in my arms…she wanted me to tell you that she loved you with everything she had."

He didn't want to cry in front of Taylor. He swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill onto his cheeks, but he couldn't help his voice from shaking.

Taylor walked over to the mantle, picking up a photo and handed it to Reese. "I found this in her top drawer while we were packing up her things. Figured you might want to have it."

Reese turned it over, staring at the photo of him and Jessica. He hadn't known that Joss had even had it. It was a reminder that she knew who he was. The realization that she knew him, his name, his past, yet accepted him anyway, hit him hard.

"She loved you too, John," Taylor said.

Reese tore his eyes from the photo and looked up at Taylor. He was crying, unashamedly.

"She loved you, too."

Before he knew it, Taylor's arms were around him, hugging him tightly, and he hadn't known it, but it was what he needed. He slipped his arm around the boy's shoulders, holding him much as a father would his own child. He didn't know if he was comforting Taylor or if Taylor was comforting him, but he felt a newfound strength in the boy's embrace.

He cleared his throat when Taylor finally let go, both of them wiping at their wet cheeks.

"When do you leave?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning. I'm staying with grandma tonight, having dinner, you know."

"Good, good. You take care of yourself. You make your mother proud. And keep my number. You ever need anything, you call me. Okay?"

"Okay," Taylor answered, and Reese headed for the door. Reese tucked the photo into his pocket and began to turn the knob.

"Hey," Taylor said. "You make her proud too."

"I'll try," Reese promised. "I'll try."