A/N: After all that suffering we got a Careese reunion that was very well received! I did a happy dance today :) One of the reviewers asked if Careese can do/be normal. That is yet to be seen but I'm happy to explore it. And whatever happened to Walker?

Random fact: I often write to songs so if you listen to any of the songs mentioned I think you'll feel it more deeply. the Monique/Paul relationship was inspried by Common featuring Lauryn Hill - Retrospect for life.

As always, enjoy x

Saturday, 7.40pm, Joss' apartment

Joss finally got up, recovering from the aftershock from her oral earthquakes. She was actually shivering. "Look at what you've done to me." She said, pulling on her jeans and a royal blue Zeta Pi Mu sweater. He kept her thong as a trophy. She stood facing the mirror, combing her hair back in place. He appeared behind her in the mirror and nibbled at her ear. "What did you do to him John?" She asked again.

"Can you make that special sauce?"

"John, just tell me you did not kill a Federal Agent in your first hour of freedom. Or your second."

He continued his train of thought "The one with the mushrooms, I've been thinking about it."

"John-" He stared at her reflection with a hypermasculine authority she rarely saw in him. The last time he looked at her that way she was wearing her own handcuffs, biting a pillow. She dropped her line of questioning and acquiesced. "It's mushroom peppercorn steak sauce, ask Taylor to get some cream cheese from the store and you got it."

"Attagirl." He replied, slapping her on the backside.

"This isn't over, is it?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not even close."

He went downstairs. She heard three voices laughing as he invited Isabella to stay for dinner. Joss made a dash for the burner phone Walker gave her. The line had been disconnected. His NYPD phone went straight to voicemail. She called the one person who wasn't talking to her.

"Your timing sucks you know that? Lee's game starts in 20 and I gotta arm wrestle hockey moms for a decent seat. They're vicious." Fusco vented.

"You have every right to be mad at me Fusco. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shut you out."

"Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" He asked, feigning cynicism.

"What hospital?"

"City General, he broke his fingers, some sporting accident."

"Which fingers?" Joss asked, as she was intimate with at least two of them.

"All ten, apparently. I told him if you're gonna pull a sickie at least be convincing. Look Carter I gotta go. Hey! Hey lady! Everyone knows that's my seat..."

8.00pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst

Paul was sitting on the blue meditation mat in the living room. She kneeled in front of him.

"It's been two hours Paul, come and eat."

"I've been praying, praying that you'll change your mind."

"I'm going on Monday." She stated. "Maybe a few years from now it will be different. Right now, I'm just trying to make it through the day."

He hugged her and rubbed her back. "I can't go with you."

"I know."

"But I'll be here for you when get back."

"Okay."

"And I've been thinking, I want Amy to be baptised. It's really important."

"You know how I feel about organised religion. I think she should decide when she's older."

"You once told me when you're still, you find the answers. When I'm still I hear His voice. And He's speaking."

She knew he had become more spiritually aligned since the funeral. "Okay, Amy can be baptised a few months from now." He kissed her cheek.

8.15pm, Joss' apartment

Isabella found the gravy jug in no time. The way she moved around the kitchen with ease showed she'd spent a lot of time there in Joss' absence. She noticed Joss was watching her and it dawned on her that she was dry snitching through her actions. "Taylor said you wouldn't mind if I came over." She explained pre-emptively.

"I don't. Just as long as you both respect our home."

She nodded emphatically. "Yeah, totally, we would never do that here." They both wore the same shocked facial expression. "Uhh-ahh-ju-I..." She picked up the gravy jug and took it to the dining table with lowered eyes, mortified. Joss thought she'd make a great daughter-in-law one day.

John was holding court at the dining table. "You know the main cause of so many conflicts in the world isn't money or resources, it's power." John philosophised at the table, making Joss wonder who the hell this man was and what he'd done with the man in the suit.

"Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely." Taylor chipped in, running off a quote from a History textbook.

"Lord Acton." John acknowledged him, and refilled her glass of wine. "You hear that Joss?" He stared at her. "Power is such a funny thing; it grants men access and makes men greedy for things they should never have."

Isabella objected. "Women aren't immune to power, I mean look at Imelda Marcos. She withstood all that political upheaval and appropriated all that wealth just to-"

"Be known for her fabulous shoe collection." Joss cut the conversation short and glared at John was bathing his steak in her special sauce. "Enough politics, let's talk sports. Taylor, how was your game?"

"It was alright, we won 3-2. It would've been more if C.J. wasn't hogging the ball every chance her got."

"Don't you just hate it when that happens?" John replied, glancing quickly at Joss. "Some people don't know the meaning of teamwork."

Joss cleared her throat and took several sips of wine. "Did you talk to your parents?" She asked Isabella, who was growing alarmed by the strange tension between John and Joss.

"Yeah. They still want me to be a doctor." She said, matter-of-factly.

"Of course they do." Joss smiled.

"But they're open; they don't mind as long as I'm a doctor of something. Pipo said he wants to hear the name Dr. Dominguez before he dies."

"Pipo?" John asked.

"My grandpa in Florida."

"Oh I'm sorry." John replied sombrely.

"No, he's not dying." She reassured them. "He's 53 and really dramatic."

10.30pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca.

Shaw was wearing a black and white houndstooth bodysuit with black stilettos. Bear licked the mushroom paté off the back of her hand. "At least someone missed me," she said loud enough for Finch to hear. He couldn't admit that she brought a certain je ne sais quoi to the place and as much as she got under his skin, he was comforted when she was around. "So now we're all official and DoD approved, you can lift that silly non-violence fatwa. My trigger finger's pretty itchy." She slotted her Nano in her clutch bag.

"I assume Mr Rhys was as bad a patient as usual."

"He wasn't so bad. I just thought we could take advantage of the immunity."

"Just because we operate as a boutique branch of the DoD that doesn't mean we can use the general population as live targets."

She sighed with disappointment. "Does the ex-wife know about Rhys?"

"Ms. Morgan was concerned by the news feed but I assured her that Mr Rhys remains as invincible as ever. You look, fetching."

"I have a date with an Investment banker."

"That's one way of engaging a number. 008-84-6638; Warren Thoms, 24, named one of Magnate Magazine's Top 25s under 25. Do you have back-up?"

"I'll go solo this time. Curly Fries is at the Waffle House with Happy Gilmore and Mr and Mrs Smith are probably burning a hole through the floor in Manhattan."

He blinked at her vivid imagery. "Why not call Agent Walker?"

"He's...occupied." She rushed out the door.

11.15pm, Joss' apartment

Joss pulled the sorority sweater and tank top over her head leaving her naked. "It's gonna to take some getting used to John, having you around."

He admired the view from her bed. "Bees like honey."

"So you're here to keep Mars away? One finger at a time?" He smirked and stifled his laughter. "Why not just club me over the head and drag me back to the Penthouse?"

"The Penthouse is full. Come here."

She straddled him. "You wanna tell me who came up with Reese? All this time I've been calling you by your real name, Rhys, thinking it's some big mystery."

"Finch. He called it hiding in plain sight; no-one would think I'd use the Anglicised spelling of my Welsh family name."

"Welsh?" She asked.

"It means enthusiasm or ardour."

She shook her head. "This is crazy."

"What is?"

"This. This wacked-out version of normal we're living."

"I enjoyed dinner, Isabella's a pistol; he should hang on to her." Every ordinary sentence he spoke confounded her further. He blinked. "Left or right?"

"What?"

"The closet. Should I hang my suits on the left or the right?"

"You're not moving in John."

"I am. I even told Taylor, that makes us official."

The ringing phone halted her protest, she reached over but his arm was longer. She grabbed at the phone knowing only two people outside of Taylor's school had the number for the house phone. He didn't release his grip. "Good evening Mrs. Taylor." She wore her shock and embarrassment on her face, much to his amusement. He covered the cordless phone and handed it to her. "It's for you."