A/N I checked and it's actually been 2 months since I last updated this fic and I had to decide just how to end it. The next chapter of this will be the final one. But here's the latest. Thanks to amy/wolfmusic218 for doing some Beta work for me on this one and some great ideas on where to go with it. Hope you guys enjoy it. Since the last update was 2 months ago, you may want to reread the last chapter 'Regression' just to get a feel of how this one fits the story.


4 weeks later

Something had gone horribly wrong.

Reese felt it all the way to his bones. Things weren't the same between him and Carter. They'd been playing a cat and mouse game since that fateful morning when he got the call from Zoe and she'd interrupted their conversation. At the time she'd said she had doubts about them, she'd just ended things with Beecher and it seemed Zoe's call was the straw that broke the camel's back.

She'd stayed with him for the next week and a half. She helped tend to his wounds, made sure he was fed and was comfortable. She still bathed him till he was able to do it himself; she did what she could to make sure he had what he needed. As soon as she was satisfied he could do everything on his own or with Finch's help, she made herself scarce.

She went back home and from then on, it seemed she was holding back. She still called to check on him. She still came to see him almost every day, but she was different. There were no more passionate kisses. She looked at him with misgivings now instead of affection. She handled him not like a lover, but merely as a distant friend. She brushed off any attempt he made to discuss it. She told him he was misreading her, he had the wrong ideas, but he'd known her long and well enough to know he wasn't wrong.

"John, I'm tired. I have a couple new cases that I'm focusing on. I'm just distracted by work."

He heard her excuses, but he didn't believe them and with each passing day he felt them drifting apart more and more.

He was finally mobile now. He could move around and walk with minimal pain and he was glad because he'd grown tired of being confined to a bed for so long. He started a new case, working a new number and he sat on a bench overlooking the Queensboro Bridge waiting for Carter to arrive with the information Finch had requested.

He twiddled his thumbs as he waited anxiously and finally turned around as he heard footsteps approaching behind him. Instead of Carter, it was Fusco coming towards him with a case file in his hands.

Fusco noted the brief look of disappointment that crossed his face and remarked on it as he sat down beside Reese.

"Sorry I'm not the person you expected. Carter's busy back at the precinct. She's working a new homicide case that happened in the Bronx."

Reese nodded his head, taking the file that Fusco handed him. He prepared to get up, but Fusco stopped him.

"Sorry Wonder Boy. Can't allow you to take this one. It has to go back with me to the precinct."

"Why didn't you copy it like that last time?"

"The last time for you was several weeks ago. Things have changed a bit. And they're cracking down, implementing new procedures. We gotta be extra careful these days."

Reese glared at Fusco, then reluctantly opened the file, calling Finch to relay important information that he needed. They spent the better part of twenty minutes on the phone and he ended up taking a few notes on certain things they'd need later.

"Find a way to make copies for me Lionel. This isn't gonna cut it." He said indicating the piece of paper he tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. "I need it by tomorrow."

"You're welcome." Lionel called after him as he got up and walked off. "Good to see you back on your feet."

Reese stopped and turned around and nodded his head. "Thanks."

She didn't want to see him, Reese deduced as he walked away and got into Finch's town car. He didn't know whether to be angry or disappointed at her slight.

This would be their first case together after the bust with Beecher, HR and Gabric. He was actually looking forward to working with her again. He missed having her by his side during a shootout or bar fight. He missed the look of disdain she'd give him when he threw yet another person through a window or sheet of glass. He missed the knot between her brows she'd get when he annoyed her.

He missed her, he thought finally. He missed the old her, not this reserved version of herself that she'd become. He wanted to see her when he wasn't flat on his back and she wasn't taking care of him. He wanted to remind her that at one point he wasn't helpless and weak, and that he was strong again.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to look her in the eyes and see if she still wanted him like he still wanted her.

She had avoided him long enough, but the numbers were beckoning and he needed to head back to the library to meet up with Finch.

He slipped into the town car and disappeared down the street, wondering where she was right now.


Fusco walked back into the precinct, got out of his coat and flung it over the back of his chair. He plopped down in front of his desk and cut on his computer. He put his glasses on waited for his computer to boot up and then entered his password.

Get me copies, this aint gonna cut it, he said mimicking Reese from earlier.

"Someday you're gonna learn to appreciate me Wonder Boy." He said, opening the file he brought back in front of him.

"Talking to yourself again, Fusco?" He turned around to see Carter at his desk, a smile on her face.

He was relieved and a little taken aback at her expression. For the past few weeks since Reese had taken a bullet for her she'd been hard to read. At first he could tell she was terribly worried, scared even that he wasn't gonna make it. After he was in the clear she seemed relieved, but then everything had changed. She'd done a complete 180 and she was a bit withdrawn, introspective like she had a lot on her plate and couldn't stomach it all.

Something had gone wrong between them.

It was weird of him to think that something had gone wrong. He hadn't even pinpointed the day, moment or minute when something had shifted between his partner and the ex CIA agent turned vigilante, but he knew it had.

He knew they always enjoyed working cases together. He knew Reese had taken more than a liking to Carter. He probably knew exactly when they both started developing feelings for each other, but they both lived in utter denial of it.

Still they kept each other at arm's length, both acting like they were nothing more than partners, work colleagues. But somewhere in between her dating Beecher and the Manny Gabric case something had happened between them and Carter was different.

Now whatever it was that had gone right had now gone horribly wrong.

Right now though, she was sitting on the edge of his desk with a smile on her face staring down on him.

"Sometimes I do. I give the best opinions and advice around her anyway, Carter."

She saw the file in front of him and tilted her head.

"How'd your delivery go?" She asked innocently and that's when he realized what the smile was for. She wanted to pump him for information on Wonder Boy, wanted to know how he was without directly coming out and saying it. No wonder he was the delivery boy today while she pretended to be busy working a case.

"Pretty much the way it usually does. We exchanged barbs, I was treated to a few of his icy glares, he forgets to thank me."

She laughed at that.

"He wasn't too happy that he couldn't keep the file this time and I've been ordered to make copies of important information 'as soon as possible'."

"Well you know John." She said. "He can be pretty abrupt sometimes." She got up from his desk, planning to head back to her own.

"You know he looked a little disappointed to see me. Kinda like he was interested in seeing somebody else."

She looked at him, shrugged at his statement, but didn't respond.

"When was the last time you saw him?" He asked, but she evaded that question too, making an excuse about needing something out of the filing room.

He wasn't dumb. She didn't need a file. She was running. Which was out of character for her. From the time he was transferred here to the 8th she shown more gumption, than a lot of the cops he'd ever worked with.

Whatever it was that had gone wrong between her and Mr. Happy, he hoped it'd get sorted out soon.


Reese arrived in the library about an hour after his meeting with Fusco. He held a pastry box in one hand and fished into his pocket handing Finch the notes he took from the case file with the other.

"Here you go Finch. I feel like a student turning in his overdue homework."

"It turns out I don't need them Mr. Reese."

"What do you mean you don't need them? A few minutes ago they were pertinent to the new number."

"That was before I spoke with Detective Carter. She sent me some information on Mr. Davenport that confirmed my suspicions about where he got the monies that were wired to his account last week Thursday."

"You talked to Carter?" He asked, setting the box down next to Finch.

"Just a minute ago, actually. I'll need you to follow a lead at the office of his business associate Henry Mesner. Here's the address." Reese took the card he held out and turned around to leave.

"What's this?" He heard Finch opening the box.

"Croquillant. And a Danish for Bear." He answered as he went down the steps.


Kenneff Newland had been the owner of a food truck for about five years now. After moving from Westmoreland Jamaica long years ago and working as a short order cook in a West Indian restaurant, he'd finally decided to launch out on his own.

He'd saved some money, got himself a truck and for five years he'd been located in a comfortable spot surrounded by businesses and hungry people who found his truck every day. He served up curried goat, jerk chicken, jerk pork, rice and peas, among a host of other native Jamaican dishes. He was doing well for himself and he'd had ideas of adding another truck in a different location in the not so distant future.

Owning this truck afforded him the luxury of people watching. He had a habit of doing it in his spare time, but dealing with so many different people every day allowed him to observe their habits, listen to their conversations while he was at work. He could guess the eating habits of someone just by their conversation, how long they took to look at the menu, even by the speed or slowness of their gait.

He especially loved to watch the police officers who frequented his place of business. Today he watched as Detective Fusco walked up towards the truck. He was busy talking with Olssen, one of his colleagues. Curried goat was Fusco's favourite on top of white rice cooked in coconut milk.

His order today was the same as always.

"Kenny, give me a…."

Before he could finish the soda he wanted was in his hand and he shook his head at how well Kenny knew him.

"I gotta stop being so predictable, Kenny." He said. "You know my eating habits better than my ex wife did."

He and Olssen walked over to the benches not far from the truck and started to eat. Soon as Fusco took a bite of his mutton, he grimaced. Kenneff watched him wondering if it was because of his food, but it couldn't be. He looked in the direction of his glare and realized the scowl was for another Detective heading their way.

18 Karat Cal.

He remembered the nickname and the man well. He was supposedly smooth, supposedly sharp on his mouth and according to some of the conversations he'd eavesdropped on, supposedly crooked. Something about him had always rubbed him the wrong way. And now he was in an argument with one of his best customers.

He watched the heated exchange between 'Cal' and Fusco and right before it seemed to get especially heated, Olssen intervened and told him to leave. Instead, he sauntered towards the truck, looking over the menu.

"What's good here?"

"Oh everything's good. It's all a matter of what you have a taste for." Kenneff answered with a smile a mile wide.

"Well what do you recommend?"

"Oh that's easy. Jerk pork."

"Isn't that supposed to be spicy?"

"Flaming hot as a matter of fact. Only the bravest order it. But if you don't think you can stand the heat…"

"No I'll take it. Show me what you got."

He turned away with a smile on his face. The sauce today was especially hot. As he loaded Cal's food into the container he silently hoped it would burn right through him.


THE NEXT DAY

8am

Carter got out of the cruiser and looked around at the crime scene before her. She took the chain holding her badge out from underneath her coat and put in front so it was in full view.

Two fresh bodies lay on the pavement through an alley, one a young woman, Caucasian and she looked no more than 21 years old. The other was a middle aged man, also Caucasian, both of them shot twice. The man's pants were at his ankles and he was face down on the ground, while the girl was slumped over on her side.

"Tell me this doesn't look like what I think it is." She said looking at the girl's smudged lipstick and what resembled semen on the side of her mouth. She walked up to Fusco who'd arrived first.

"You mean it looks like they picked the wrong place and time to get freaky?"

She shook her head and started to put gloves on her hands, when she looked up to see Reese across the street.

"I'll be right back, Fusco." She said and he glanced up as she walked out of the alley.

"Sure you go ahead. I'll check this out here."


He watched as she crossed the street heading towards him. A breeze picked up then, blowing her hair across her face and she moved her hands up, smoothing it down and over her shoulders once more.

She bit her lip as she followed him into the alley where he stood and looked at him with what he felt was a hint of guilt.

He decided to talk about work. Maybe it would make her more comfortable.

"Finch is grateful for the information you gave him yesterday." She nodded.

"I'm always happy to help." This time he nodded as she looked him up and down. "You're looking much better. Glad to see you all healed up and back on your feet."

"Well I can't take all the credit. I had a really good nursemaid. She took good care of me."

"And just what do you call good?"

"Well let's just say having a sponge bath in the middle of the day was my favourite part of her house calls."

"I'm sure they were." She said and laughed. It was the first time in a long time that he'd heard her laugh.

He moved closer to her and was grateful that she didn't pull away when he reached out and took her hand. She raised her head up towards him and he bent his head down towards her.

They stood there, with just their cheeks touching and for a moment she squeezed his hand. He could smell the scent of her perfume in his nostrils.

"Joss….." he began, but she shook her head.

"Not now, John." She said releasing his hand and putting it on his arm. "Tonight."

It was the promise she gave him as she walked away.


1AM

Carter sat on her couch with her feet curled up underneath her watching TV in her living room. Taylor had gone to bed hours ago. It was late and she couldn't sleep. She'd had a lot of sleepless nights lately and though she blamed it on work and the changes taking place there, she knew it was due to her fledgling relationship with Reese.

She wondered if she should even call it that. He'd said they were together, but there were so many factors pulling them apart she wondered if that was still true.

Weeks after he was shot and weeks after her breakup with Beecher she still felt confused. She knew John noticed. She lied to him whenever he'd pressed her about it and she knew he saw right through her. But she found herself doubting him more and more every day.

The seeds of doubt Beecher had planted in her mind had grown and no matter what she did, she couldn't stop it.

She figured maybe a little distance would help. Maybe if they spent some time apart she could clear her head. It had done just the opposite. In fact it only served to make Reese more anxious and her more on edge.

It had felt so good to see him in the alley. Knowing that he'd been watching her, observing their crime scene took her back to the days when they used to work together. When he was fully alert and on top of his game. She was glad to see that he had recovered.

It had felt good to touch him, have him hold her hand for that brief moment. His presence, his touch had always seemed to calm her. But there were so many questions in her mind and no answers to satisfy them.

He wanted to talk. So did she. But though she'd told him tonight they would, she was halfway glad that she had yet to hear from him. Maybe he wouldn't like what she had to say. Maybe she wouldn't like his answers to the questions she had.

Fusco told her that he'd had a run in with Cal that week at lunch time. He was obviously still upset about his case that they'd both stumbled on. He was still furious with her for the way she treated him, like a criminal, he told Fusco. And that's where things went from bad to worse.

The things he'd said about her, to her partner, were private things that should never have been said. She was embarrassed, she was angry, but she still felt guilt over not trusting him through it all. She said as much to Fusco, but he was having none of it.

"Carter, Beecher was bad news from day one. Whether it was him being a dirty cop or a lousy boyfriend, I knew from the beginning, he wasn't the one. Don't allow him to make you feel guilty for doing what you do every day, your job. You went with your gut, Carter. And your gut's never steered you wrong yet."

"It's not as easy as all that, Fusco." She said to him earlier.

"It can be. Just let it go Carter. Look at the bigger picture. It's time to move on."

She walked into the kitchen and filled the tea kettle with water, putting it on the stove. She reached into the cupboard just over her head, looking for the hot chocolate. Maybe it'd help to calm her and put her to sleep. It wasn't long before the water was heated and she walked back into the living room sipping the hot beverage.

She looked over at the coffee table as her phone started to vibrate. She closed her eyes knowing just who it would be. She checked the clock on the wall as her phone continued to ring and set the mug down on the table, picking her phone up.

"Carter." She answered finally.

"Let me in, Joss." The quiet request on the other end of the phone caused her heart to pump faster.

"It's late, John."

"It is, but you're not asleep. Let me in."

She opened the door and he filled the frame, looming over her before coming inside. He pulled her in for a kiss and she felt the desperation behind it, weeks of wondering and waiting and not being sure. She put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away.

His arms remained around her waist, he didn't want to let go.

"I thought you'd be here earlier." He let her lead him over to the couch and they sat down together.

"So did I." He said, although his words had a double meaning to them. "I've been worried. About us. I've been waiting for you to talk to me."

"I've got a lot on my mind. Still trying to sort it all out."

"Would I happen to be one of those things on your mind?"

"You know you are." She slid a hand over his thigh and rested it on his knee squeezing it.

"I wish I could say that I did. Most days it seems I'm the furthest thing from your mind. What's changed?"

"So many things, John." She admitted quietly. "Before, everything was clear. There was the job, there was the work that we do together, you had my back, I had yours, but….. Now it's different."

"All of those things are the same. The only thing that has changed is that we're together now. I still trust you to have my back; I still have yours, don't I?" His eyes were pleading and when she didn't answer right away, he grabbed her by the arms and turned her to face him. "Joss talk to me. I'm not leaving here until you tell me what's wrong."

"Where do you get your information, John?"

"What?"

"I've always asked you to trust me. I've always asked you where you get your information from. But you never trusted me enough to tell me."

"Joss…..I do tr…"

"Let me finish. I accepted it before because I had no choice. I couldn't force you to tell me. I just trusted you and worked alongside you even when you repeatedly kept me in the dark. You asked me to trust you before and I did. But things are different now. We're not just friends or partners anymore. But I don't see how I can be anything else to you when you don't trust me and when I…"

"…..when you can't trust me."


Reese was hurt more than he could explain. She didn't trust him anymore. The whole mess with Beecher and her case had messed with her head and now she was questioning his motives for wanting to move their relationship forward.

"We've been through a lot together. We've depended on each other. You know that I trust you. How can you think that I don't?"

He looked at her, eyes shining with tears in the dim light of the room and he was in disbelief. He wondered how they'd come to this. And he wondered how they'd get past it. They'd come too far, and he didn't want to lose the connection they now had.

"You want to know what trust is, Joss? Trust is meeting a detective in a restaurant, who was the reason you got shot, not too long after you saved her life. Trust, is believing that this detective wasn't going to have the NYPD task force waiting to arrest you in that restaurant."

She hung her head down, but he wouldn't let her look away. He drew her chin up again, lifting it with his fingers.

"Look at me, Joss." He said his voice filled with emotion. "Trust is putting my life and Finch's life in your hands, believing you wouldn't arrest us or turn us in for doing something that went against your moral compass."

"John, that's not…."

"No. You're going to listen to this Joss. Because you think that I don't trust you. I trusted you so much that I…I admitted to you how much I wanted you, how much I needed you while you were involved with Beecher. After Jessica I've never wanted any other woman the way I want you and I was terrified of this not working out between us. But I trusted you with my…."

He didn't want to say the word…and silence hung between them for a while. The tears that had gathered in her eyes were threatening to fall. She seemed to be taking it all in, mulling over what he said. He hoped he was getting through to her.

"Joss, I can't tell you where the information comes from. I want to. But my life, Finch's life, anyone who finds out about our source is in danger. It would destroy me if anything were to happen to you because of your knowledge of it."


The hot chocolate was getting cold. The TV on mute, faces on the screen, mouths speaking, but no sound coming out.

John's hands held hers tightly, the grip indicative of the urgency of the words he spoke.

He couldn't tell her. She heard the words and they should have put her at ease but they didn't. It was a broken thread from a newly sewn garment. It was coming loose, pulling the rest of the cloth with it.

Was what he was willing to give, able to give enough? Would it ever be?

If he couldn't tell her now, would he ever be able to tell her? Wasn't she in enough danger by simply working with him and being a part of his circle, the work they did together? How much difference would the danger be than what she was in daily as a detective on the NYPD homicide task force?

They were at a crossroads, she knew. Either they would move forward or things would go back to the way they were. It wouldn't be easy if it did. In fact, the trust they had before would be irreparably damaged, their relationship would slowly deteriorate until they became strangers. She didn't want that, but she wasn't satisfied with what she was given now.

"I think I've proven that I trust you, Joss. The real question is, do you trust me."

"I want to know where I fit in your life, in this grand scheme that seems to be so big you can only let me in so far."

"Carter, you are important, to my life, to the work that Finch and I do. Not just providing back up or case files. You add a certain heart, humanity to what we do. As for you and Beecher…..you don't honestly believe that I told you about him killing Jason Davis to get you into bed. You know I wouldn't do that. You know me. No matter what's going on in your head, deep down, you know exactly who I am."

His eyes were piercing through her right now, pleading with her not to let what they had go.

….your gut's never steered you wrong yet…. Just let it go Carter. Look at the bigger picture. It's time to move on…..

Fusco's words from earlier echoed in her head, over and over. He was right. It was time to move on.