A/N: Bittersweet hellos and goodbyes. I missed Isabella and Evelyn, didn't you?
Diaz Dakota asked if her home was coming back - did you mean NY, Newark or Ashland?
For JHill88, SWWoman and Diaz Dakota who's been standing at the Carter like Chris Rock before he got his teeth fixed. Is Finch his brother's keeper? Yes. He. Is.
As always, enjoy.
Six weeks later, Saturday 25th July, 10.45pm, Finch's Penthouse
Shaw stood in her grey and black uniform, Bear was sitting attentively at her side. Her pink Timberlands sat on Finch's desk. The Team was waiting for her to say something, deliver a speech or tell them how much they meant to her before she left to infiltrate an ISIS cell in Syria. "Vodka?" She offered, holding the 96% Balkan vodka that carried 9 health warnings on the bottle. They all grimaced and reluctantly filled their cups.
She addressed them by name. "Dexter, Curly Fries, Badu Box, Andre 3000."
"Badu Box?" Fusco asked, "What does that mean?"
Shaw winked at Carter, who blew her a discrete kiss. "Nothing." She rubbed Bear's head. "I'll miss you the most." She said fondly to the dog. She raised her red cup, they raised theirs with no intention of drinking the death elixir. "To Dexter's lab and not screwing it up 'til I get back."
"Cheers." They said in unison, pretending to drink.
"You're gonna miss me, Harry." She told Finch. "What are you gonna do without me?"
Celebrate, he thought.
"Numb myself to fill the pain Ms Shaw." He sipped the vodka, to the chagrin of his other teammates.
"How does it feel, Harold?" John asked, blinking from the smell alone.
"Like liver failure." He commented. Shaw patted him on the back, approvingly.
"What about Warren?" Joss asked.
"I told him I was a honey trap. He got back with his ex-girlfriend, they're in Page Six."
"Alls well that ends well Ms. Sh..." Harold uttered, keeling over and twitching on the ground.
She looked down, evaluated his state and gave her medical opinion. "Oh, that's just temporary."
Sunday, 2.20am, Joss' apartment
Taylor has spent his summer filling ever spare moment trying not to think about her. During the day it was easy, Paul was a taskmaster at the office and like a good soldier, never left any task unfinished. At night he partied with people from school, strangers in the East Village and girls. Girls whose teeth didn't flash like hers when they smiled, girls who didn't argue with him, girls who dyed and flat-ironed their hair, girls who thought Noughts and Crosses was a book about chess. The one he wanted was always busy, rarely returning a text or a call. He woke up at the sound of his phone vibrating.
-Skype?
He found his tablet on the kitchen island and connected to her. After some weird angles of her room, she came into focus. She was wearing a 50s style emerald green cocktail dress and red lipstick. Her loose black curls were up in a top knot. "Hey Taylor," she said casually.
"Wow." He exclaimed, as though seeing her for the first time. She beamed and her teeth flashed again. "Just, wow."
"Thanks. How's it going?" She asked, taking out her contact lenses.
"Good, all good."
"You still giving Marie the third degree?"
"She's on probation." He justified.
"And Amy?"
"Amy's good. Still loud, but good."
He gazed at her. She put on her black squared hipster glasses. "What?" She asked.
"You look different."
She looked down at her dress. "Oh, this. Naomi took us to a Charter School benefit dinner. She knows a lot of people."
"Took who?" He kicked himself for the Freudian slip.
"Her staff, obviously." She wiped off her lipstick with a face wipe.
"Oh."
"Do you miss me?" She asked, forgetting they were talking and wiping it all off.
"Of course I miss you."
"Doesn't look like it on Facebook." She took out her teardrop earrings. He understood why she had been distant.
"That? You know it's nothing serious."
"Well, I am something serious. And I'm not waiting for someone who's not waiting for me."
"Bella." He couldn't say it. "Are you still coming to the wedding?"
"Yeah." She frowned. "Unless you changed your mind?"
"No. I want you to come."
She smiled. "I've missed you too. I've got to be up early, church then research."
"Okay. Bella?"
"Good night Taylor."
"Wai-" the screen went black. She couldn't be reached on Skype and he tried calling but her phone went straight to voicemail.
"Persuasion, influencing and negotiation. She really is good." John said, putting down two empty wine glasses and sitting beside him.
"Say it." Taylor dared him.
"Say what?" John yawned.
"You're whipped. A punk. A puppet. Her bitch. Just say it, I've heard it all before."
"Locker room?" Taylor nodded. "Is that the real reason you're on a 'break'?"
"No, I don't know, maybe."
"It seems like you care a lot about what people think of you these days." John knew about his post-prom ordeal but vowed never to bring it up unless Taylor did.
"It's not that I care, people keep reminding me. Things have just gone back to normal." He said, referring to the dying down of the rumours since C.J. was sentenced.
"You ever think maybe what you have is so special, people want it for themselves?" John was forced to think of Walker in the moment, and fought it off with happy thoughts of breaking his fingers. "Like those girls on Facebook who magically know who you are, now she's gone away?"
"I'm just having fun."
"Are you really?" John inferred. "Having fun I mean."
"I'm not having sex with those girls if that's what you mean; it doesn't feel right."
"Taylor, being with one woman doesn't make you less of a man and trust me, I've been with plenty. Nameless, faceless women. But I only loved two."
"Then how come you blew it with the ring? And an old people ring at that?"
"We got lost in translation." Taylor wasn't buying it. "Okay it was a bad idea. Now I have to come up with a good idea."
Taylor got up. "Good luck with that."
"You're not helping?"
"Have you seen the bullet hole in the wall? I'm not getting in the firing line."
Sunday, 1.30pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
Evelyn debuted her new wavy ombre hairstyle at church that morning, taking her from warm chocolate brown at the root to strawberry blonde at the end. Joss knew better than to ask if her 61st birthday had brought on the change. Gregory was teaching Taylor a blues riff on the harmonica on the balcony. "Where is that man?" Evelyn asked. "You know Jocelyn, I don't think I can trust a man who skips church three weeks in a row. Or one who doesn't appreciate my Low Country cooking."
Joss hugged her from behind. She had no intention of explaining where John was or what he was doing with Finch. "John will be here and he'll love your Frogmore stew, Mom."
"You sure you haven't you run him off?"
Joss rolled her eyes, out of view. "No, Mom. I haven't run him off."
"I thought not, Janelle said you got your hair pressed twice this week, and you know what that means..."
Joss shook her head at her adept investigative skills and turned her attention to her favourite dessert. "I can't believe you made the coconut cake Ma. It's perfect."
"Six layers, just like you like it." She kissed her daughter's cheek. The doorbell rang, it was the tune of The Entertainer. "Can you get that?"
"Paul?" Joss asked, expecting it to be John not her ex and his fiancée and child. Monique was standing beside him, carrying Amy in a car seat. "Good to see you Monique, and the little one, come in." She welcomed them in, confused.
"It's good to see you too Joss," Monique replied awkwardly, still not understanding why they were there and taking in Evelyn's unusual interior design choices in the living room. She felt Colonel Taylor's portrait was watching her.
Paul explained their invitation. "You know Evelyn Magnolia Willie-Mae Taylor never takes no for an answer."
Joss shrugged. "Can't argue with that."
Evelyn joined them in the living room and looked at her latest guests, nodding to herself. "Good. We're getting there."
Sunday, 3.15pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
John's late arrival was heavily anticipated by Taylor who at back in his seat at the dining table for the entertainment of Evelyn's fireworks. Instead of ire, she accepted his conciliatory bunch of pink calla lilies with delight; a warm welcome that Paul didn't know she was possible of giving. "They're beautiful. Put these in water." She told Taylor, who was stunned that she was becoming soft. The doorbell rang again. "And you can get the door while you're at it."
Isabella's attire was less sexy and demure than the night before, she was simply dressed in a cream shift dress and grey pumps. Ever since she went to D.C. she'd modelled herself after Olivia Pope, by way of H&M and Asos. "Just so you know, I'm only here because your grandma asked me." She informed him, pulling her hair behind her ear.
"How did you get here?"
"I flew." She said, matter of factly, following him to the dining table. "I'm so sorry I'm late Mrs. Taylor." She said, hugging his grandma before taking the seat next to him.
"Actually you're right on time sweetie." She looked around the table. "Let's hold hands." She said ceremoniously, fixing her eyes on her daughter.