Part Three
"I'm sorry I'm such a wreck." She pulled back, seeing nothing but acceptance in John's eyes.
"Hasn't been an easy couple of years, Joss." His hands moved from her waist, sliding up to cup her cheeks. "For either of us."
She saw it in his eyes, the reason he was so accepting of her new status as an emotional basket case – because he wanted to hug her as much as she wanted to be hugged. He was still trying to convince himself that she wasn't going to disappear and she suspected the easiest way for him to do that was to keep in physical contact with her.
The loud beep surprised her, making her jump, and his hands retreated to his sides. "Still jumpy, I see."
She grinned, remembering the conversation from the evening before. "Microwave snuck up on me."
"Don't worry, I'll protect you." He pulled the lasagna out of the microwave, grimacing at the meal that looked entirely unlike the picture. "Guess this isn't enough to share."
"It's ok, I'm not-"
"If you finish that sentence, I'm going to force feed you everything in the freezer, one horribly unappetizing bite at a time." He poked at the food on the tray and Joss knew he was contemplating throwing the entire thing in the trash the same way she did every night.
It really never mattered all that much to her without an appetite, but John was hungry and she felt terrible making him eat it. "Let's go to that diner you mentioned." She nodded at the melted plastic cover that had collapsed into the food. "If you eat that, you're not going to want to eat anymore either."
Fear spiked in him at the thought of going outside again, a feeling he never experienced. He didn't like it one bit. "We don't know it's safe." He'd only brought the one gun when he left New York and he had no idea what they could be facing out there. At least in the apartment there were limited points of entry. Of course, if Finch had identified any real threat, he probably would have called right back to warn him, even if the specifics weren't available. Therefore, it was probably safe, but probably wasn't the kind of odds he felt like playing, not with Joss' life.
"You need food, John. Real food. We're going." Tossing the lasagna in the trash, Joss headed for the door.
She expected he'd take her hand the way she had taken his when they left the garage, considering they hadn't been out of contact for more than a minute or two since that morning. Instead he wrapped his arm around her, holding her tight against his side. His muscles tensed for an attack as he guided her to the car. Her first instinct was to joke about him being overprotective, but under the circumstances she couldn't say he was wrong to be worried. She wanted to believe it had been John and Finch that tripped the alarm, but until they got the all clear, there was always the possibility that it had been someone less pleasant looking into her background. The idea that she could have this amazing reunion only to have it all fall apart again frightened her more than she ever could have imagined and she couldn't blame John for wanting to be careful.
He felt her tensing in fear and he hated that he hadn't brought more weapons to protect her. He really hadn't anticipated seeing her again and had only needed a single bullet to take care of his original problem when he left the city, still he blamed himself for not buying some extra hardware during the night. As he climbed into the driver's seat, he started to question the wisdom, and sanity, of the risk he was taking. For food, of all things. He had this precious chance with Joss, being given the opportunity he'd desperately wished for all that time and rather than locking her in a bunker and making sure nothing bad ever happened to her again, he was taking her out for dinner. And though the diner's burgers were better than cold soup and potato chips he lived on the rest of the time, he doubted Joss would be all that impressed with them. Then again, he thought, with what she'd been eating, she might love them as much as he did. He did his best to ignore his fear as he put the car in gear.
The day she'd met Mark Snow, right after she'd been shot, right before he manipulated her into helping try to kill John, the bastard had declared that John was paranoid. At the time it had seemed like a reasonable claim. After she'd gotten to know John, she brushed it off, assumed it had simply been more bullshit Snow had thrown at her to convince her to turn on the man who'd saved her life, the man she'd already begun to trust, the man she'd already started to fall for despite never having actually seen his face. John was always careful, but until right then, she'd never seen even a hint of excessive worry. Hell, she'd always thought the man wasn't worried enough about things going sideways.
But now she was witnessing full blown paranoia. He drove such a circular route that it took nearly half an hour to cover the distance that was probably, in a straight line, less than two miles from her apartment. He drove through the parking lot three times and then circled the block twice more, his eyes darting between the mirrors and windows. He parked as far away from the building as he could to stare at the door for quite a while before he moved the car closer to the entrance. He wouldn't let her get out of the car for another ten minutes, insisting they wait for the teenaged bus boy to finish his cigarette before he announced that it looked clear.
Glancing around the nearly empty lot, Joss shook her head and told herself that challenging John never got her anything besides a headache. "You'd think if this place was so good, there'd be more customers." It was supposed to be a joke, to relax him a bit, to remind him that they were going to dinner, not storming a castle. Instead, she watched his eyes narrow as he took her words the wrong way, his hand tightening around her arm.
"You're right, there should be more people." He was frozen on the spot, seized with the certainty that he'd made a tactical mistake, that he'd endangered Joss. He could feel it taking over – the fear, the worry, the horror, the pain. He'd lost her once and he could very well lose her again. It was probably already done, the wheels of fate set in motion the moment he'd realized she was alive.
He'd been happy. Truly happy. And happiness, he knew, wasn't allowed in his life. He'd doomed her. She was going to die, for real, forever, because he loved her. He could see it all happening again, hear the shots, feel her body take the hit, watch her slump to the ground. He pulled her into his arms, telling himself that this time, he was going with her. Her blood was warm on his fingers, her life seeping out of her so quickly he knew he didn't even have the time to tell her he loved her, no time to voice all the things he wished he'd said in all the time he'd thought she was gone . He was losing her, right in front of his eyes, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it. Again.
His embrace was crushing, but she couldn't ask him to let up because he was squeezing her too tightly to get a breath in. She didn't know exactly when he'd crossed the line from reality into whatever nightmare he was lost in nor what had pushed him over. She clawed at him, reaching up under his shirt to pinch his skin between her nails. The pain had the desired effect, somewhat at least, causing him to release his grip on her. She looked up at him, saw him shaking and terrified and then those same damn tears that had haunted her for those long years. She didn't know how to soothe him, to comfort him, to ease the torment she saw in his beautiful eyes. She ached with him.
Her hands slipped up, bringing his face toward hers, her eyes locking on his. "John, I'm right here. It's ok. We're ok." His eyes darted away, lighting on everything and seeing nothing. "Look at me." Once he followed her order, she continued. "We're just getting some food, John. There's no one else here. Nothing's wrong." She was lying, or she may have been, she had no way of knowing, but she had to bring him back in from the ledge somehow.
As she watched, reality slowly dawned on him, his hands moving over her shoulder and upper chest, examining her for a wound that was long healed. The fear receded a tiny bit at a time, his breathing slowing as he calmed down. His eyes were still wet with tears, but rather than devastated, he looked thankful. And tired. He was as exhausted as she was, probably having survived the last two years on nightmares and coffee. He reached for her again, pulling her into a gentle hug.
Blinking back the tears that threatened at the idea of how badly he'd suffered, she kept trying to ground him. "Panic attack or flashback?"
He shrugged as he released her and smoothed her hair back down. "Both, I think." His hands were still shaking, even as she gripped them.
"Finch is taking his damn time, isn't he?"
"I'm sure he'd just being thorough." His eyes left hers again, moving over the lot again, squinting suspiciously at a car that happened to drive past.
She needed to distract him before he got lost in it again, in the memory that had somehow hurt him more than it hurt her. "Come on, John, food."
He let her take his hand and drag him to toward the door, but he kept craning his head around, looking for a threat, certain he was missing it. He was sure there was one, despite Joss' attempt to reassure him, despite his trained eyes and honed instincts failing entirely to find anything out of the ordinary. He followed Joss as she found a booth in the corner by the window; she even left the seat against the wall open for him, giving him a view of the outside, the door, and the entire interior of the diner. He slid into the seat, scanning their surroundings continuously. Rationally, he knew he saw nothing out of place. Mari was at the counter, clearing some plates and offering him a wide smile. The bus boy was on one of the stools across from her, marrying the bottles of ketchup. The cook Tony was in the kitchen as always, humming along to the radio. There were only a handful of other patrons and they didn't seem like they would be much of a challenge for him, even if they were going to try something, provided they ever looked up from their plates or phones. He tried to bite down the irrational conviction that he was misreading the whole situation, that there was immediate, extreme danger, that nothing he did would prevent the impending catastrophe.
She tried to hold his eyes, but although he would return her stare for a few seconds, his panic would inevitably return and cause him to sweep the room again. With a sigh, she told herself at least John's worry, and her worry about his well-being, kept her from being able to freak out herself over the situation.
A woman walked up to the table, her warm smile reflecting in the crinkling of her eyes. "Coffee?" She had already started to reach for the overturned cup in front of John before she spoke.
Joss reached out, blocking the cup with her hand. "He really doesn't need any more caffeine right now." She smiled politely, noticing the way the waitress checked with John for a nod before she withdrew her arm. "I'd love some, though." It would be exactly what she'd been longing for – a cup of coffee with John in a greasy diner. Absolute heaven.
The waitress didn't move, apparently still checking with John, and Joss felt anger boiling in her veins. She'd been invisible for so long that it really upset her to be ignored now that she was trying to interact again. Before she had the chance to say anything, she felt John's hand close over hers.
His smile was slow to form, probably because he was still trying to panic over something, but it was warm. "This is my friend Mari. Kept me from starving to death a few times. She's also Mike's wife." He looked up and returned Mari's smile. "Mari, this is my wife, Taylor." Joss was amazed at how easily the lie slipped off his tongue, no matter how many times she'd seen him bullshit someone. She was even more amazed that he'd introduced her as his wife. When she'd taken his name, it was meant to be a reminder of the men she'd had no choice but to leave behind, not some sort of claim. But hell, if it was ok with John, she wasn't going to argue.
Mari looked back and forth for a minute, finally offering Joss a smile as well. "You're not going to break his heart again, are you?"
Joss stared wide-eyed for a second, wondering exactly what the hell John had confided in this woman. John's cheeks flushed red as he shrugged at her, and she realized John probably hadn't confided a damn thing in the woman. Joss looked up at Mari, who was evidently waiting for an answer before she was going to pour any coffee. "I didn't-"
"Look, I know it's not my place, but I know how he looked when I met him and I know how he looks now and if you're the difference, I'm glad, but don't you dare do that to him again." Mari's glare was so stern Joss had to look away.
John was mortified, apparently so mortified he forgot entirely about being paranoid as he ducked his head and stared at the table top. Seeing John's reaction brought a grin to Joss' face that she couldn't hide when she looked back up at Mari. "Oh, he's not getting rid of me this time."
"Good." Mari nodded, finally pouring coffee into the mug in front of Joss. "What can I get for you guys?"
John found his voice, trying to get the focus off him and his unbroken heart for a minute. "Two hamburgers. No, cheeseburgers." He glanced at Joss, at the way her shirt gaped at the collar, the way the sleeves hung loosely from her shoulders. "Extra cheese. And fries. Make those cheese fries."
"Why don't you just order a heart attack on a plate, Jo-" She managed to stop herself at the same time as John's eyes snapped to hers. "Jimmy, I'll eat the cheeseburger and the fries if you insist, but no cheese fries, please?"
Once again, Mari was waiting for John's answer, only correcting his original order when he nodded at her. "Regular fries then. But extra cheese on the burger, Mari, I mean it. And we're getting dessert."
As soon as the older woman walked away, Joss shook her head. "I can order my own dinner, John."
He grinned at her. "I was worried you'd order a salad."
"I'm not going to gain twenty pounds in one meal." She turned her hand over, pressing their palms together as her fingers curled around his hand.
He looked down, surprised that he'd somehow forgotten he was holding her hand all that time. He chided himself for allowing something so magnificent, so life-altering as touching her to become unremarkable enough that he'd forget about it so easily. Joss gave his hand a quick squeeze before she pulled back to open a creamer and pour it in her coffee. He felt her leg brush his and he instinctively moved his leg to the side to give her more room, but a moment later he felt her leg press up against his again. Deliberately.
Her hands were busy fixing her coffee just right, but apparently she wasn't ready to let the contact between them end either. The idea floored him, his mind going back to the way they'd kissed in her apartment, thinking of exactly where they would have wound up if Joss hadn't wanted to talk. His eyes moved up to hers, wishing that he hadn't gotten so distracted by the idea of dinner. If he'd just eaten whatever the hell frozen dinner he'd made, if he'd made one for her too, they would have been finished by then, alone in her apartment and able to do more than share a heated stare across a table.
Joss blinked first, a smirk curving her lips. "I probably shouldn't mention it, but you seem to be feeling better than when we came in."
"You distracted me." He knew she wasn't trying to chastise him, but he felt like he'd been corrected. He immediately started looking around again, at everything except her, trying to remedy his mistake by being thorough.
Her hand covered his. "John, we can leave as soon as we eat, but we went through all this trouble for dinner, so we're going to sit here and eat it, ok?"
His perusal of the diner paused as he met her eyes and winked at her. "You sure we can't get it to go?"
Her heart sped up at the sexy grin and she wished she hadn't insisted on talking earlier. "Maybe we can skip dessert." She moved her other leg to trap one of his between hers, only to have him do the same. "Or maybe we can have dessert at my place?"
Once again, his attention was entirely focused on his companion, his mind elsewhere, forgetting about his desperate need to protect her, the danger she was in, even the fact that the clock was ticking on her decision about where she was going to live in the morning.
Neither one of them had moved when Mari arrived with their food, complete with the sodas she insisted on serving with burgers, making John reluctantly turn his mind away from much more pleasant thoughts. But when he saw the way Joss dug into her dinner, John was glad they'd gone for food. He'd been worried that he'd have to cajole her into eating and he was beyond pleased that wasn't the case.
The burger smelled absolutely delicious, even with the ridiculous amount of cheese dripping onto her hands. She finished half of it in only a few bites, having forgotten how hungry she really was for something besides frozen dinners. It was only when she came up for air and a sip of soda that she noticed John hadn't eaten a bite of his. He was sitting there staring with a contented smile on his face. Her cheeks burned with a blush.
"What? It's good."
"I tried to tell you."
She nodded at his untouched plate. "Are you planning on eating that or just watching me?" He didn't answer, though his eyebrow quirked up, indicating that he was just fine watching her.
He'd be happy to watch her forever. Her leg shifted against his, the look on her face reminding him there were other things they could be doing, would be doing, as soon as dinner was done. With that goal in mind, John started on his burger. Every time Joss looked away, he moved some of his fries onto her plate. She noticed, but said nothing at first. It was only when John had given her every last one that she spoke up.
"It's going to take me forever to eat all this, you know. We may never get out of here." As delicious as the meal was, she was already full. There was no chance she could eat two servings of fries too.
"Can't have that." Suitably motivated, John grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them in his mouth.
By the time they'd wheedled the pile down to only a few left, both of them were stuffed. Joss was silently hoping John had either forgotten about or relented on dessert, at least the variety Mari served, but she didn't want to mention it, for fear he'd insist on principle if she reminded him.
The diner was comfortable. Being with Joss was comfortable. It lulled him into such a sense of security that he forgot entirely about any danger. A loud crash and shattering glass brought it all back to the surface, the terror and panic and guilt strangling him as he jumped from his seat and threw himself next to Joss. If she was going to get shot again, the bullet was going through him first this time. He pulled her into his side as he pushed them down between the seat and the table, desperate for any protection it would offer. His eyes were wild as he looked around, his gun drawn to fight off the attack.
No one was taking Joss away from him. Ever.
