A/N

Thank you again and again, ClaudiaRain. What would I do without your help and your suggestions?

And Lizzy. Always there.


CONSEQUENCES AND A DANCE OR A DANCE WITH CONSEQUENCES?

"We should be okay until our next stop."

"Terrific. More errands."

(S03E22)


The next day he woke up in the afternoon. He had returned to his bed after Root was gone and simply passed out. Blackness hadn't taken long. There was dried blood on his bed but he didn't care. First he showered very cautiously and bandaged himself again after it. Took some painkillers.

John was first thinking about calling in sick, at least for one night, but if he were honest with himself, not going to work was making it much worse. Too much time to give the situation some thought.

He pushed himself to work. Gregory was on another shift, so he worked with his supervisor. The older man had seen at once the state he was in and queried only: "How bad?"

John's smile was constrained, so the supervisor told him to sit down and did every patrol by himself.

John was very grateful for not answering any more questions and watched the monitors, trying not to think about the last few days, too bewildered for clear thoughts. Being this tired... and hurt cost him his last will to keep going. He had to pull himself out of his misery. Step by step.

When Gregory suddenly sneaked in, he put something into John's hands.

"Hi." He said joyfully and leaned against the wall. It took John some seconds to realize that Gregory was waiting for him to open the envelope, so he did. It was an official invitation for a party the next Saturday evening.

"Since Martha and I are getting back together, we're bringing our families together next weekend." Gregory explained. "First we'll have a buffet and of course there will be dancing." He blinked, smiling. "Samantha and you can come, right? - I asked our supervisor to give you an extra free day."

John cleared his throat. "Thank you for the invitation, but I'm not sure..."

"You are not really declining our little invitation, John? I mean, after all, we want to thank you for bringing us together again. And saving our lives." Gregory insisted vehemently.

John didn't know what else to say and fell silent for a short moment. "It's complicated, Gregory."

Gregory looked at him and raised his eyebrows. "Concerning Samantha and you, you mean?"

John tried to escape in excuses."We had something like a fight..." It wasn't a lie. "I'm sorry." He truly hoped to prevent a discussion from going astray.

But Gregory watched him closely, saw a little desperation and hurt shimmer through John and decided to say something more.

"Look, you two seemed to be so close." He said. "Martha and me, we were, too, until this thing with my debts happened. Taught me a hard lesson, but thankfully, she wants to stick with me. And of course there's Tessa, our little girl." He made a slight pause. "Anyway, what I wanted to say is: your Samantha – besides being beautiful – kissed you in a way not many men are kissed by their girlfriends. So openly. I've seen it."

John was smiling mildly, thinking how good it was that Gregory didn't know about Root's different kind of ways to play with him. - Nevertheless enjoying it, too. He had felt that she had kissed him... with fun and some kind of passion, too. The passion you have for the thing you can toy with. But he should remain realistic. She just... didn't feel the way he did. No fault from her side. He just had taken her games too seriously. End of it.

"Don't you think you can get her back? Clear things up between you? Tell her you love her?" Gregory continued. "It's amazing how many women just wait for their guys to tell them that to be in the whole relationship thing completely." He shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll try..." John answered him flatly. "Thank you for stopping by." He had a small smile. "Work's waiting."

"Of course. Let me know if you're both coming or... you alone." Gregory smiled back and left.

John was relieved that Gregory had gone. He was really looking forward to when his phone would buzz again to save the next name. His mind definitely needed other things to engage in. Root had made something like a promise to him that after a week, she would pass the names on to him. Root. Root. Root.

In a kind of desperate move, he turned away from the monitors and allowed himself to lean his forehead against the dark window to cool his inner turmoil a little bit. When was the last time it had hit him that badly? Jessica.

And how long did it take him to... accept it?

Maybe this was also the legacy of Kara. Toying with him was her specialty... and he kind of had started to accept it as a dark part of him enjoyed being toyed with. Maybe that was, after all, what had made him fall for Root?

Or was it the fact that he was allowed to care for her? To build a connection to her they never had before? To talk to her... and let her pull him into her games. And to discover there indeed was a power of attraction between them. One which he had indulged in... and she had not.

Throwing her out of his apartment was an overreaction on his part, so the chances of seeing her again and having the possibility of regaining a balance between them were close to zero.

With difficulty, he took a step back from the window and forced himself to concentrate on his job again. And tried to stick with it the whole night.

When he made it home, he fell into his bed. Food and painkillers had to wait until after he slept.

That was the routine he kept for the next five days. Slowly, he felt better, did not hurt with every breath he took. Then his supervisor told him he had the whole weekend free, including Gregory's party.


The first early morning John came home, he was so exhausted that he didn't even notice the figure who stalked him when he left the company. But the figure noticed his slow walk, his pale face and the pain – because of his stops on the way home – that he seemed to be in.

Since he had been beaten up and Root had come to his aide, she was stalking his apartment every day. And she had done it on her terms. No need for the Machine to tell her that.

She was worrying a lot. And becoming angry that John didn't allow her to care for him when he needed it the most. Angry at herself. Guilty. Confused. All of it. She berated herself for her mistakes.

She hadn't gone to him when she had told her once, twice, three times... to go help him. Just thought, in her own pride, that he could do it alone. She was wrong. Oh so wrong.

In the end, Root had let John down when he was counting on her. He, the one of the team who was the most wary, doubtful person when it came to her helping them. Instead of being proud and grateful that she won his trust – she betrayed it the first time he really needed her help. Only because she thought she could play with him like she had always done in her life - until Harold and she entered it and taught her some lessons in caring she just seemed to have forgotten after Hanna disappeared.

He had that kind of honesty she was never good at – Root preferred the games instead – and he had instilled in her some part of his belief that people can change, something she could never define for herself.

Somehow they had found a way to work together – and she had simply taken it for granted. She was always like a chameleon, forced to adapt to the surroundings, and she could disappear as fast as she arrived. John was the first constant in her life beside the Machine to offer her the safety of staying in one personality and identity, allowed her to be herself instead of someone she made up entirely.

She was so used to adapting different personas – first for her original goal to revenge Hanna, afterwards because it turned out she was pretty good at it. John had almost grounded her a little bit in giving her a home she could turn to no matter who she was pretending to be, because in his eyes she was always just Root.

Now, she'd had the chance to give some of the care back that he had given her all these weeks and it frustrated her immensely that she couldn't. Also she could have told him... could have showed him... her feelings?

As always, too late, she realized the chance that was given to her and she finally decided to give in. The nagging question was, would John give her another chance if she asked for it?


It was still dark outside, dawn was just setting in, and Root watched John leave work earlier than usual. Informed by her, Root had left her hotel room earlier, too.

She followed him as usual and saw that he was better today, with no pauses on his way home. And he wasn't that pale anymore. When the week was over, she knew that she would pass the next names onto him. No chance for her to protect him anymore like she did now.

He entered his apartment building, and she stood there on the corner, waiting. Waiting for her intuition to tell her that he was safe and for his lights to go on. She would leave, at least until evening, when he left for work. Then she would be here again.

She didn't notice the figure behind her until John's whisper in her ear made her spin around, taken by surprise. "No running this time?"

Root just stared at him. Why hadn't the Machine warned her? Maybe because in this she was on his side?

She had another quick snappy remark on her tongue, but this time, she held back.

"I don't know." She answered instead.

Watching her, he asked frankly: "What are you doing here, Root? In the mornings? Or in the evenings, for that matter?" He had obviously found out about her stalking.

"I wanted to talk to you and avoid... how the last time ended." Was her low answer, with averted eyes.

"Why?" John wondered. "You decided to take off, remember?"

Root wasn't prepared for direct questions at all and reacted defensively. "You made me, remember?"

"I made you?" He only shook his head. "You've faced things straight on before, why not now?"

She hesitated. "Maybe things changed."

"From whose perspective? Yours or mine?"

She looked at him. "Maybe I still don't know what to make of you."

"I thought you formed your opinion long ago." He answered dryly.

"I thought I did." She said, still looking at him. A pause. "How are you?" Hesitantly, again.

"I'm..." He wanted to say automatically 'fine', but watching her, he answered instead: "... alright."

"You are?"

She really wanted to be sure? He nodded at her.

"Your ribs?"

He was more than astonished at her concern... and back in the middle of his bewilderment and feelings for her.

"Are you just here to ask me after my health?" He said, calmly.

"No." Her answer was quick. She tilted her head. "No, I came to tell you..." She fought with herself, he could see it.

"Tell me what." He was gentle.

"I'm sorry, John." Root still struggled with herself. "I... I... worried about you." She had wanted to say something by default but somehow the words changed to personal ones.

"I'm still here, Root." Softly. Waiting.

"Yes. You are." Her answer was guilt-ridden.

John wasn't exactly sure what she came for. But that she came meant something. Could they continue as friends, after all? He decided to take the first step, again.

"What about breakfast, Root?" He offered. "I'm hungry and in need of coffee. - Wanna come up? We can resume talking there."

Relieved, she gave him a small smile. "Coffee sounds wonderful, John."

When she followed him into his apartment, he was inwardly shaking his head at himself. But in the last few days, he had finally understood that not only being the older one but the wiser one, it was on him to reach out to her. Like he just did.

And like so many times before, he made her sit at his table in the kitchen, added another plate and mug for her and poured the freshly brewed coffee in.

"Smells good." Root said, now almost ashamed of taking his care for granted.

He pushed the milk and the sugar to her, and put two slices of bread on her plate.

"I have blueberry and fig marmalade here."

"Thank you." Root just said, nipping on her coffee. Trying to collect some courage to continue on, figure out what to say... at least a part of it. Being too unsure.

Since she made no effort in making herself something to eat, he decided to do it for her.

When she realized he had prepared a slice of bread with jam for her, she giggled. "The last time someone made that for me... was my mum, when I was eight." With one simple doing, John had made her feel at home again, telling him personal things, almost naturally. Root shook herself mentally.

"When I was eight, I put a family's Oldsmobile through the side of our neighbor's house." John commented, dryly. "My father wasn't very pleased as you can imagine."

He had Root's complete attention. "Your father?"

"Lost him when I was pretty young." John concluded, nipping on his coffee, too. He gazed at her. "Younger than you when you lost your mother."

Another similarity. Root swallowed. "Mum had to work a lot. To earn our keep. I wish..." She left things open, looking at the floor and then the living room where light shone in, having another memory.

"Don't we all." John said softly. But continued. "What brought you here, Root?"

"You cared for me the whole time, John, whether I needed it or not. I simply wanted to give something in return." Root answered slowly, a little bit upset. "And I was angry at you for not letting me."

He said nothing for a while, still trying to figure her out. "Look Root, can we just pick up where we left off? - I need your help, I do see the point you made in our last discussion. And I miss... saving names together with you."

Root looked him in the eyes, swallowed again. "I let you down, John, I know. Won't happen again."

She took the last sip of her coffee and went suddenly silent.

John watched her and knew what this special look on her face meant. "What does she say?" He simply asked.

"She just got another errand for me to run." She sighed. Wanted to stay there.

"Thank you for the coffee... and everything else." She was almost out the door when she heard his "Wait!"

There he stood, in the middle of the room.

"Gregory and Martha invited us tonight for their reunion party, to thank us for... bringing them together again and saving their lives. - Will you come along with me?"

Root hesitated a moment, surprised, but smiled and nodded. "I'll come. Dressed to the nines?"

John nodded, too. "8 pm, Hudson Street..."

Root interrupted him cheerfully. "I know, John. No place I'd rather be. Need to go."

And she vanished, leaving him wondering.

His mind and his heart were doing flips, but he tried to stop it. Slowly, John. We'll wait and see. But he couldn't suppress a happy grin when he climbed into his bed, falling into sleep.

The nervousness came later, when he was dressing. He didn't know where they were heading... back towards friendship? Or perhaps... something more? Well, he would figure it out.


John waited for Root to show up in front of the entrance of the party hall. As she left one of the taxis, he couldn't help but stare. She wore a short dress, the skirt in simple black, the top woven with gold glitter, tight to her lean curves. The top was strapped only around one of her shoulders, the other bare. Her hair was lifted up in a beautiful way. With heels, her head reached his shoulders.

This would be an evening to remember.

She smiled upon noticing him. "See? Told you I'd be here."

He simply smiled back at her and held his arm out, which she took. Careful to not show anything from his inner turmoil. "You look stunning."

The big hall was full of people and extremely loud because of the live music and the talking when they entered. Gregory and Martha seemed to have a big family party.

John and Root, both a little surprised at the amount of guests took a place at the end of the hall at one of the many tables around the dance floor and simply watched the guests. Like an old habit, John had the exits in his view, and fortunately, they were sitting in the quieter part of the hall. It looked like a normal party: people were meeting and chatting, the kids already dancing and running around.

A waiter appeared, automatically serving two glasses of champagne and asked for their drink orders, so John ordered beer and water.

A few minutes later Gregory climbed the stage and took a microphone, Martha behind him. He took her hand and gave a short speech about their plans of marrying again and how grateful they were that they were given another chance and he thanked openly John and Samantha for saving their lives.

At the end, Gregory asked all to stand up and toast with Martha and him, so the whole hall did, as did John and Root – clinking their glasses.

Shortly, John was reminded of his first meeting with Kara in Prague. He hadn't touched either the champagne or the Bourbon... Why was he thinking of Kara? Because of the champagne she had liked a lot? Because some part of him feared to be toyed again by Root?

Her voice brought him back. "John."

He just turned to her, looking way too serious.

Her gentle tug at his hand and a quick check around made him aware that Gregory had finished his toast. He sat down, too. "Sorry." He rasped to Root and pressed her hand shortly before leaving it.

The band had started to play a waltz, and Gregory and Martha were dancing, alone.

Root watched John closely. He was still miles away. A little bit like in one of their Q and A games, when she had inquired about his family. Sometime, she had to ask him again what he had meant with his cryptic words. But not now. This evening... she simply wanted to stay at his side. Show him that he could count on her. Enjoy his company. And pull him in... for another kiss?

After the waltz, the large buffet was opened and it was time to eat. Root leaned forward to John. "What do you like? I'll go."

A short twitch at the corners of his mouth. "Choose whatever you like... Samantha."

It wasn't the answer she had wanted to hear, but it was a beginning. Maybe she had to order more alcohol for them to loosen their tension a little bit?

She brought a plate for him with her, and he thanked her. They ate together in silence, like they had always done in his apartment.

John was still more silent than he wanted to be. But he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what else to do other than wait for a chance to show her how much he cared. In a friendly way, not to scare her away again.

At last, the band started to play a slow piece of music and the noise level went down.

Gregory came to their table, clearly looking for Root.

He turned to John, who knew instinctively what he was about to ask.

"Do you mind if I dance with Samantha?"

Normally John would have said 'No.' but this was the chance that he wanted to take himself.

He stood, smiling. "Actually, I do. Sorry."

And with his heart pounding, he turned to Root, holding his hand out to her. "Samantha?"

She looked up at him. Only at him. And smiled back.

He asked her to dance with him? Was this her chance in the end that she had waited the whole evening for? She followed him to the dance floor.

Putting her hand in his, like she had done when she was Caroline Turing and he thought himself to be her savior... he had liked holding her small beautiful hand, so trustfully slipped in his... and he should've known better, back then.

John took Root carefully in his arms and started swaying. Concentrating on the music... feeling too much when she closed the distance between them and laid her head on his shoulder.

Slowly, his fingers curled around her hand and put it on his chest. He closed his eyes, enjoyed the sparks that went through him. Something he hadn't felt... in a long time.

At this moment he didn't want to resist his feelings, instead he wanted to hold on to them. Feelings he had lost... after Jess. And after Joss. Feelings that made him alive again. Determined, he pulled her closer.

How he longed to give in... knowing full well it couldn't be. This was a fire, burning... and having the power to destroy him. For once and for all. John had never ever been a coward, but this... this was a dangerous road. And he wasn't sure of his survival if he went down it. He'd just had a foretaste of it and it had nearly cost his life.

He felt her hand wander down to his firm ass, resting there. Sparks again. Did she feel it, too? At last? That there was something between them which matched? Slowly, his hand on her back glided down as well, pressed her lean, curved body into him, fitting so perfectly. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he felt her pressure, too. Heard her quiet groan.

He smiled in realizing they were both turned on – again.

And when Root looked up, he couldn't resist kissing her. Gentle, tender at first. Experimenting. Like the last time under the rain when he just wanted to persuade her to stay with him. He got every response he was hoping for... and more. Soon they kissed with passion, touched the tips of their tongues. Still pressed together in a way that couldn't be misunderstood. Wanting.

Every time he showed her that he cared, Root was turned on. Like a lightning in the storm.

When the music ended and the applause started, Root whispered in his ear: "Do you trust me, John?"

She got an inquiring look, but finally he tilted his head. "I still do." He said gently.

"Take us home to your apartment." She told him almost breathless. "Give me your love."

His doubt was clearly visible. "Are you certain?" Were his only words. Serious.

"Yes." She leaned her head against his. "Let me show you."

"No more games?" He simply asked.

"No more games." Root acknowledged, repeating his words.

Finally, she had the courage to take his hand and to look him in the eyes.

He said nothing, still contemplating her words.

"Let's go." She insisted.

So they said goodbye to Gregory and Martha, but both of them were smiling when they saw John and Root holding hands.

They took a cab, stayed silent during the drive and when he took her up the stairs to his apartment, Root was overwhelmed to find how much she longed for this, too. She wanted to be closer to him than ever before. Through loving him she wanted to show him just how much she cared.