AN: You guys are good with guilting me into posting this quickly! Though chapter 12 won't be up till probably Friday at the earliest. And an FYI for anyone that is waiting for Marriage companion piece it's coming this weekend too, even if I despise it and know you guys will too :( I can't get it to read the way I wish and I can't procrastinate any longer, so I'm thinking of posting it Friday as well. Careese Themes will be having a new update soon probably next week just so you guys know I haven't forgotten about it. Nor the smut chapter for Photograph's companion, I realize people want our babies happy after having gone without one another for like two years lol! I haven't forgotten any of it, it's just lack of time to write everything!
She ran out of her adjoining bathroom, barefoot, and in a rush. Her large hot pink terrycloth towel from her shower wrapped around her torso, hitched at her breasts, and she had another matching one around her hair as she moved to her closet. She felt fresher since showering but she was still nervous, leaving her feeling a bit at odds with herself. Why was she feeling nervous about John coming over? It wasn't like it was a date or anything; yet here she was showering, shaving, and trying to look through her wardrobe to find something to wear as if it was.
She pulled a dress on its hanger towards her before bypassing it, and then the next, followed by the next and so on. She shook her head when she reached the end of her dresses and none of them were what she wanted to wear for John. She disappeared further into her closet, searching through her dress slacks, her blouses, and finally hit her skinny jeans. Was it too late to go out and buy something?
She scowled at herself when she heard her cell ring. She stormed over to the forgotten thing on her nightstand, grabbing it and finding it was Shaw. Oh no, she was not giving this non-date up with John for anybody. "Whatever it is, not tonight, okay?" She announced as a greeting.
"Why, got a hot date, Carter?"
"Not really, no, but that doesn't mean I'm in the mood to be at your beck and call."
"Reese tried to explain to me that he was swinging by your apartment to eat dinner and watch a basketball game with you and Taylor instead of helping on the number." Shaw sounded amused.
"You can handle the number yourself and he's a phone call away if you need him."
"I know."
"So you called to what-see if he was telling the truth? He is coming over, we are eating dinner together, and we are going to watch the basketball game." And he was going to tell me what was wrong, she mentally added.
"Nope."
"Then what do you want?"
"Wear that hot number you wore when meeting Ian Murphy,"
"You called to tell me what to wear, like I'd take fashion advice from you, who can't tell a designer name from a no-name?"
"Hey, I didn't tell Zoe he was gay so you could have him and then you don't dress to kill."
"You did what!"
"Why not, I'm just protecting your interests. Zoe would eat him up if she knew he was hetero, the guy doesn't need a woman like her sniffing around him. Not that it's a crime to aggressively look for a sex partner." Joss rolled her eyes. Shaw would know all about that since that's all she ever searched for.
Even as much as she was gleeful that Shaw had lied and Zoe believed her, her inner goodness reared its ugly head. "You should tell Zoe the truth, what if he's attracted to her?" It hurt to say but she couldn't fathom a man not being attracted to Ms. Morgan. She was beautiful, confident, and any guy's dream.
"He isn't."
"But what if he was?"
"Trust me, he isn't; he didn't look at Zoe like he looks at you." Shaw sounded sure on this and she felt happy by the assessment. "Fine, keep up this lame dance between you and Reese, see if I care," Shaw said before hanging up on her. Joss sighed, putting her cell phone down irritatingly. Of course Shaw would naturally assume things could happen between her and John. But it didn't work that way. She couldn't force a man that was more emotionally unavailable than any man she ever met before to just magically heal. He was still hurting over a woman he obviously lost, no one put a look in a man's eye like that unless it was a woman he loved very much, and then lost her. She was attracted to him, obviously Shaw had figured that out and maybe John was attracted to her too, but she knew without a doubt he wasn't going to attempt anything with her, not for a while, if ever, which was a depressing thought. She moved back to her closet.
She pushed aside her thoughts, determined to just have a nice dinner with John and get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. With that she felt more relaxed and choosing an outfit became much easier.
His hand hovered over her doorknob before he decided against just entering her place and knocked instead. He only had to wait a few seconds before he heard footsteps and the door swung open. She appeared in the threshold looking beautiful. Her hair was down, straightened, and she was wearing a black silk blouse with tight dark denim jeans. Her feet were bare, with hot pink nail polish on her toes and he slid his gaze up her curvy body back onto her eyes.
"You knocked?"
"You sound surprised that I know how to use a door," he teased.
"I am, you usually just let yourself in as if you own my place," she answered back, stepping aside to allow him to enter. She shut the door behind him, before motioning for his coat, which he slid off and gave her. He didn't dress up or dress down for the occasion. He was wearing his new typical attire of black suit blazer, dress pants, coupled with a white dress shirt. They walked side by side further into her place, his eyes searching for her son.
"Where's Taylor?" he asked after a moment when he didn't hear the boy upstairs and he was nowhere in sight. He looked at Joss, seeing a flicker of something shadow across her face before it was gone.
"He went to his dad's. Sorry, it's just and me."
"Oh," he stared at her.
"I made killer enchiladas, which will have you begging for more." She grinned as she moved towards her kitchen where her dining table sat. His eyes fell to her nice butt while he followed her. She set the table so that they were seated across from one another, a bottle of wine sat on the brown table with two glasses already poured. He pulled out her seat which she smiled at before sitting down and he followed suit. "Such a gentleman."
"My dad always pulled out my mom's chair," he murmured waiting for her cue as to when they could start eating. She picked up her fork and cut into the enchilada and he did the same. He bit into it and moaned. Her eyes lifted to his. "This is good," he stated honestly after he swallowed.
"You sound surprised that I know how to cook; I should be offended but I actually think I like that I surprised you." She smiled softly as she bit into her own. "So your dad taught you to be chivalrous?"
"A little."
"You were eleven when your dad died, right?"
"Yes," he agreed. "What about you, are your parents alive?" He steered the conversation away from him. He didn't enjoy talking about his past.
"My mom is but not my dad, he was taken when he had a heart attack about ten years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks," she responded and they fell into comfortable silence, eating. "So, John…" he looked up from his food sensing she wanted to talk about something important.
"What, what's wrong?" he asked after a moment when she didn't say anything. Their food was nearly depleted on their plates and he was beginning to feel full.
"You tell me." He furrowed his brows, not understanding what she meant. She reached out, touching his hand, the familiar spark of heat that her touch induced occurred. He removed his hand, veiling it by grabbing his wine glass taking a sip. "Something's up."
"I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"This afternoon, John, you seemed distant with me. Did I say something to upset you?"
"No," he looked away. How could he tell her that he was becoming too needful of her company, that he was having a harder time ignoring the attraction he felt for her? Or the fact that it was becoming increasingly harder for him to think and envision Jessica, her image blurring into Joss, and it frightened him. He didn't want feelings for another woman, he didn't want to feel his body crackling alive, and he sure the hell didn't want to tell Joss any of this.
"Then what?"
"I was just thinking of my case," he answered and she searched his eyes as if trying to see if he was telling her the truth or not. When she frowned he knew she figured out he wasn't telling her everything but she didn't push. She just muttered she was full which he agreed with and they both stood up, carrying their wine into her living room to turn the game on to watch. They sat side by side for nearly forty minutes just watching the game together, groaning when the other team scored against the Knicks or cheering them on when their team tried to make a comeback.
During commercials when it went to halftime, John eyed Joss. "Tell me about why you feel guilty over Fisher's death." He said and she turned to look at him shocked.
"What?"
"Tell me about why you feel guilty over something that wasn't your fault."
"You weren't there John. It was my fault."
"Not from what Harold told me."
"Harold is wrong," she snapped.
"Then enlighten me."
"Fisher would be alive if it wasn't for me; if I hadn't come to him for help with HR, had I just ditched him in the subway." she looked away. He reached out, grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him. Their eyes met. His thumb and index finger remained on her chin, her skin so soft. "John, he'd be alive," She whispered as unshed tears welled up in her eyes.
"Harold said that Fisher wanted to help you, he didn't want you to be alone," he said gently. "Harold told me everything about what you went through with HR, with them killing your boyfriend, Cal Beecher, to taking your career and threatening your son. And from what you and Harold have said, this Fisher was a good man and would give up his life to protect anyone."
"But he didn't die protecting me, he died because of me," she whispered hauntingly, a tear slid from her eyes, and he cupped her cheek rubbing it away with his thumb. She leaned into his touch; one of her small hands lifted and loosely grabbed his wrist. "He was gunned down because he helped me bring down Quinn and Simmons came after him out of loyalty!" She pushed free of his hand which he dropped down when her face turned cold. She didn't want to give up her guilt; he narrowed his eyes on her.
"Allowing guilt to eat you alive doesn't help, Joss."
"You don't know anything about what happened with me and Fisher."
"Maybe, maybe not, but I do know what it feels like to be guilt ridden, to hate yourself for not being able to save someone." His tone grew cold matching hers. Her gaze swung to him, he watched her façade crumble. Her eyes shone bright, she looked ready to cry. "And to do something that you can't take back."
"Doing missions with the CIA is a little different, John."
"I killed a man in cold blood because he killed my ex," he said quietly, not wanting to relive any of his past but if it helped Joss then he would.
"What happened?"
"Her name was Jessica, she was a nurse."
"When did you meet her, when you were in the CIA?"
"No, before that. We weren't together for very long, less than a year, but I loved her. I broke things off with her so she could have a real life with a man who would be there for her, be better than I was for her. She married a man named Peter, but he was abusive and one day she called me sounding upset. I was in the CIA already but I promised her I would be there for her but I was assigned to go to Ordos in China; Kara and I were there, we did our mission, but things still went south, I got back as quickly as I could but by then it was too late. She was dead and I failed her."
"I'm so sorry, John." She touched his hand. He lifted his gaze from the floor and back onto her eyes. "But it wasn't your fault, you didn't know she was married to an abusive husband."
"Like it's not your fault for Fisher being gunned down."
"Our situations were completely different."
"Yet the outcome was the same."
"But I have a reason to feel guilty, John; what happened to Jessica wasn't your fault." God was she stubborn.
"So punishing yourself makes it better?" he demanded. "Because it didn't help me, nor did revenge. I murdered Peter, Joss, I killed him in cold blood. He took Jessie from me, the only person to ever make me feel like I belonged somewhere, and he killed her. So I took his life, it didn't make the pain of losing her go away, and it sure the hell didn't take away the guilt I felt for failing her. So after that I went back to the CIA and wanted them to suffocate me. I wanted to die so badly that when I figured out I was going to be executed in that alleyway by Kara, after my initial defenses kicked in and I sat behind that dumpster, I thought about just standing up and allowing them to put me out of my misery."
"What stopped you, John?" she asked and he stared at her. She had asked him the same thing when he had allowed himself into her home, back when she was struggling to help him.
"You," he said thickly, unable to evade the question, not just because she needed to hear she was a kind soul who shouldn't be punishing herself, but for himself too, he needed her to know.
"Me?"
"I don't know, I saw you and there was something about you that drew me towards you. I wanted to die but I wanted to know you more," he explained quietly, watching her face. Her eyes searched his. "You changed my mind, Joss."
"John," she started, but paused.
"You save lives, Joss, stop blaming yourself."
"Not all of them." She resisted.
"And it hurts you, which makes you the exceptional woman that you are," he whispered as his gaze dropped to her mouth. "Fisher wouldn't want you to blame or punish yourself for something you couldn't control."
"How would you know?"
"Because if the roles had been reversed and I was there beside you instead of Fisher, there wouldn't be anyone else I would want beside me if my number was up." Her breath caught and within seconds their mouths met, either she kissed him or he kissed her, he didn't know which, but their lips were touching, surprising them both. They sat stunned, lips together, before moments later their surprise melted away and they kissed each other hungrily. He hadn't felt a female's touch in over three years. He sighed as he opened his mouth wide, his tongue tentatively sweeping out to lick her lips, and hers immediately opened. He moaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. He lifted a hand into her hair. Her tongue curled with his, her hands resting on his shoulders as their bodies moved closer. Alarm bells rang in his head and he tore his mouth from hers.
"John," she whispered. But he stood up running a hand through his hair. He had to get away. He turned from her, before storming towards the door, not bothering to grab his jacket. He grabbed her doorknob, opened the door, and rushed out into the night, refusing to look back.
AN: See I warned you guys that this chapter had some intense Careese conversation, I just failed to mention there was a kiss thrown in ;P but you guys enjoy surprises. Here is a tiny teaser for the next chapter I won't be as cruel to give as juicy as before:
"Mr. Reese, I can assure you I see your trick."
"What trick, it's just an offer for a ride home?"
"You're just trying to figure out where I live, so you can break in and try to learn more about me."
Okay, thanks for reading everyone I appreciate it!
