The Greatest Reward
"Hey Superman," Lionel's voice greeted cheerily over the speaker of the phone.
"Hello Lionel," Reese greeted with little enthusiasm as he guided the car down the road into Manhattan. It had been a long six hours since leaving Cabot Cove with nothing but the radio to break the silence.
"Whoa! Tap down that happiness level there, pal. I think you should pass on any future vacations," Lionel sarcastically advised.
"What do you need, Lionel?" Joss's voice chimed in, her tone matched Reese's. Since leaving Maine, they had barely said a half a dozen words to each other. It had been a cold, lonely drive back home.
"Wow! You too? Remind me to never go north the next time I want to get out of here."
"Lionel!"
"Okay, okay. Though with your attitudes, I think you broke the heatwave. But I'll get to why I called. There's been a change in plans with Carter moving back in," Lionel informed without pause. Hey, he was no fool, and he knew that the news was not going to be greeted with open arms. No, quite the opposite. And a bullet or two, if he were lucky.
"What change of plans, Lionel?" Joss prompted. She wasn't going to think worse-case scenario.
Lionel swallowed. Hard. "Kenny was making his final walk-thru inspection and he...well, it's not anything real bad, just...well...it's not good..."
"Cut the crap, Fusco, and tell us what happened," Joss ordered in her no-nonsense Warrant Officer tone.
"He found a bug."
"He what?!" Joss and Reese chorused together. Joss felt her heart sink at the news. Not again!
"It's no big deal," Lionel tried to diffuse the moment by sounding chipper.
"No big deal?" Joss asked angrily. "I just spent the better part of three weeks away from my home, and now you're telling me that I can't go home?"
Reese tried to hide the hurt look at Joss's statement.
"Look, don't shoot the messenger, okay? These things happen. The little buggers are pretty resilient and every now and then one survives," Lionel put forth the tidbit as though it might change things.
Joss shook her head in disbelief as she tried to tap down her anger at the unfairness. "How much is this going to cost me?"
"Nothing. The whole process is one-hundred percent guaranteed. Kenny is going to do another treatment and walk-thru."
Small comfort, Joss sighed with appreciation at the exterminator's attention to detail.
"How many days will this take?" Joss wondered. She slid her eyes to the side to catch a glance at the man next to her. Could she handle another week or two beside him?
"Two—three, tops. Once it's done, it's done."
"Lionel."
"Look, Joss, either it's up to par, or you go thru this again in six months. Do you really want to do that?" Lionel asked in his best parental tone. Taken aback by the use of her first name and the authoritative tone of her usually timid partner, Joss looked impressed.
"Three days it is," she agreed reluctantly. "But where am I supposed to stay?"
"Looks like you have a couple of more days with Wonderboy," Lionel said as though it was the most logical choice without argument.
Joss took a deep breath and counted to ten. Not happening. This isn't happening, she told herself.
"Stay out of trouble and I'll call you when it's done. Ciao!" The line went dead. The interior of the car was just as silent as the line while Joss and Reese searched for something to say.
"No," Joss said as the news finally sunk in. "No more."
"Joss..." Reese tried to offer some kind of consolation for what just happened. But she interrupted him.
"No, John. I just got rid of everything I owned—some of those things I can never replace—and spent nearly three weeks away, all so I can be told that it was for naught?" Joss replied, barely keeping her temper under control. It was so unfair.
"Joss..." What could he say to make everything okay? He knew how much she wanted to go home and settle back into her life, but that wasn't what he wanted.
"I guess I could try a hotel for the next three days," Joss reasoned, although her tone seem dejected at the thought of doing so.
"Sure, Joss," Reese conceded, although a bit wounded that she would dismiss his invitation.
Joss's fingers flew over the tiny keypad. "Really?!" she asked rhetorically. She tried typing again. Nothing.
Reese glanced to his right. "What's wrong?"
"The internet is down."
Reese played stupid. "Oh?"
"There are wi-fi hot-spots all over this area. If I didn't know any better, I would think some sinister machine had it in for me," Joss groused and threw her phone into her purse.
"You can come home with me," Reese offered, carefully avoiding the sinister computer topic.
Joss shook her head. "I don't know, John. I mean, it's a nice offer and all, but..." Her heart beat fast at the possibility of extending her time with him, but the logical part of her brain tapped down her enthusiasm.
"Your things are still there," Reese added to help solidify the main reason she had to stay.
Joss looked at Reese. "I don't want things to be weird between us, John. Or rather, weirder than they already are."
"Nothing weird about needing a place to stay, Joss," Reese murmured, guiding the car down the street toward his loft.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. Let's get something to eat before we move forward," Reese suggested. He pulled the car beside the curb and turned off the engine.
"I don't know, John."
"It's just two days, Joss. I will be a perfect gentleman." Reese crossed his heart for emphasis.
Remembering the feel of his body pressed to hers, Joss felt her cheeks burn hot. Part of her wanted to tell him that she wasn't afraid of him not being a perfect gentleman, just the opposite.
"Okay," she agreed. She opened her door and stepped out on to the sidewalk. It felt weird to have concrete under her feet after sitting for so long.
"Maybe you should call Taylor and let him know there's been a change in plans. At least he'll have time to make arrangements for a place to stay. I'll get our bags and meet you inside," Reese suggested, opening the trunk and pulling out the carry-on bags. With hurried steps, he headed inside.
"Sure." Joss reached for her phone and dialed her son to update him with the change of plan.
*****************************
"How long do you think we can hold them off before they realize they are in love?" Lionel asked before biting into the fully loaded hot dog. With two shootings in Washington Heights, the breakfast he had earlier was long forgotten. This was his first break in eight hours, and he was starving.
"Depends, how many bullets can you absorb before you bleed out?" Shaw deadpanned. She busied herself with fully loaded grande steak burrito. Three numbers saved and one hit-man taken out, it had been a productive day. Now she was rewarding herself.
"Smart ass," Lionel gave a sarcastic snort around the bite. "How can you eat that thing?" he asked, eying Shaw's treat.
"How can you eat that thing?" she returned in the same tone.
"I've been working my ass off, so you know?"
Shaw looked unimpressed. "That's why you're wearing it?"
Lionel looked down at the splotch of chili and mustard decorating his tie. "What the—?" He grabbed a serviette and tried to clean up the mess. "Son of a..."
"Good going, Lionel."
"I just bought this tie," he grumbled.
"With any luck, you'll be buried in it."
"No such luck, sweetheart, this is going to work," he boasted confidently. "Those two knuckleheads need just a little more time together."
"And if it doesn't?"
"I have an ace up my sleeve." Lionel took a huge bite of the hot dog.
"I think it's mustard."
"Dag nabbit!" Lionel furiously wiped the yellow dollop before it could stain the stain material.
"What are you going to do when Taylor comes back and the brownstone isn't ready?" Shaw wondered with vague interest. It was no sweat off her back if Lionel ended up pushing up daisies, but she would miss him.
"Glasses has that taken care of."
"You're going to get shot; you do realize that, right?"
"Look, Sameen. I wasn't expecting them back already, and it's still going to take a few more days for my project to be completed. I had to think of something to hold them at bay."
"Sounds logical," Shaw agreed with his twisted logic. "But you only have two days before Joss starts chomping at the bit and demands to go back home. Then what?"
Lionel grumbled and groaned to himself. "Always the worst case scenarios with you CIA types. Did you ever learn positive thinking?" Finishing his snack, he balled up the trash and tossed it in the nearby waste can.
"You mean like 'the glass is half-full' theory?" Shaw shrugged. "Never had much use for it."
Lionel brushed his hands off. "I can tell."
"It keeps me from weighing pros and cons in a life or death situation."
"Good thing I stuck with being a police officer."
"Giving yourself airs, Lionel?"
"As long as they keep paying me for showing up, I'm not going to complain." Lionel looked at his watch. "Well, break-time is over. I need to get back to work and collect that pay-cheque."
"Savour it," Shaw said with a wink.
Walking away, Lionel turned to throw a look over his shoulder. "I plan to." He returned the wink.
**********************
"What do you mean the brownstone isn't ready?" Taylor reacted to his mother's news.
"There has been a...sudden change of plans." To say the least. "And Kenny is going to need a couple of more days to insure that everything is dead."
"Wow! I didn't know they were so indestructible," Taylor joked.
"They are pretty resilient," Joss agreed reluctantly. "I'm sorry the house wasn't ready for when you come back," she apologized.
"That's okay, Mom. I found out that our flight was overbooked and we have to stay another couple of days." Not that he was complaining. He loved Europe and the U.K., and he had been secretly wishing to spend a little more time soaking up the culture.
"Do you have enough money?" Joss wondered. The trip had been planned down to the last penny, but this unforeseen event could end up costing her more than she had set aside.
"The airline is putting us up, so you don't have to worry," Taylor assured his mother.
"If you're sure..."
"What's really bothering you, Mom?"
Joss tried to maintain her cool attitude. "What do you mean?"
"You don't sound like yourself," Taylor observed.
"I'm fine. Just tired and worried about you," Joss replied, trying to divert the subject from herself.
"Mom, I'm not a baby anymore," Taylor protested indignantly at her attempts to coddle him.
"I know, but you're still my child."
Inwardly, Taylor groaned. "I'm eighteen."
"In another month."
"Okay. Sure," Taylor conceded. There was no winning when going up against his mother.
"Will you call me when you get in?"
"Yes. I promise. And Mom?"
"Yes, T,"
"We'll talk when I get home." Before Joss could respond, Taylor disconnected the call. Sighing, she pocketed the phone.
******************
Standing alone on the corner of the street, Taylor looked at his phone. He hoped that he had sounded convincing about the plane being overbooked and delayed, because he never could lie to his mom. She had always been able to read him like a book. But maybe the few thousand miles between them had offered him a bit of cover to help maintain his white lie.
The call had come earlier, when a man by the name of Harold Finch introduced himself and offered a deal he couldn't refuse: Two extra days in London—all expenses paid—in exchange, all Taylor had to do was call home and relay it just the way he had been instructed. He wasn't sure, but he would bet his trip to Australia that it had something to do with the guy friend his mother was with, and not bed bugs. But what did he know?
"Hey, T!" Taylor turned to see his friend in the doorway of the restaurant/pub. "They called our table."
His stomach rumbled in response. Taylor pocketed the phone. His job was done, and his mom could take care of herself. Right now, he needed to eat.
"On my way!"