A/N: Finally some answers. Things are coming together. Thanks to SWWoman for her diligence.
Chaos 20
Joss sat cross-legged in her hospital bed watching John as he paced back and forth beside it. When he had made his astonishing declaration, that he knew who was doing everything, he had sprang out of bed, and began his incessant pacing, occasionally running his fingers agitatedly through his hair.
"I should have known," John said, speaking mostly to himself. "The signs were all there, I just didn't put it together. I knew what he was capable of…I had seen it firsthand…his brutality…"
"Who John, whose brutality had you seen?" She asked him again, interrupting.
John lowered his eyes, and swallowed hard before lifting them again to look at Joss. His eyes were void of emotion, his face was impassive, and his voice was hollow as he spoke a single name,
"Mark Snow." John then turned, and wouldn't look at Joss.
Joss had to think for a minute then she recalled who Mark Snow was. "Your former handler from the CIA?" she asked, completely thrown. John just nodded his head, and continued to stare in the opposite direction, without looking at her. Suddenly she understood.
"John, come here," Joss said softly. When he didn't move she repeated her request. When he still didn't move she began to get angry. "John Reese, so help me, if you don't turn around, and look at me so I can speak to you, I will get out of this bed…"
John turned immediately at the thought of her getting out of bed. He couldn't bear the thought of causing her more pain than he already had. It was his fault she was in that bed to begin with.
One look at John's face told Joss she had been right. He was blaming himself for everything that had happened to her, and probably the murders as well. She sighed, and stretched out her hand,
"Please come here, John. You are not to blame for anything that Mark Snow has done. Certainly not for what has been done to me, and especially not the murders. That's on Snow, not you." Joss said soothingly.
John made a choking sound, rushed to Joss's side, foregoing her hand, and took her in his arms, practically lifting her from the bed to hold her against him. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, she ran her fingers through his hair while he stroked her back, absorbing the feel of her warmth as it soothed and comforted him. She was his strength. He was hers.
John leaned his head back, and whispered softly, "Have I told you I love you this morning?"
Joss frowned, "As a matter of fact, I don't believe you have.
John laid Joss gently on the hospital bed, following her down, and climbed back in with her. Cupping her face with his hands, he said, "I love you. More than I could ever tell you. And thank you."
Joss looked at John curiously. "I got the 'I love you' part, but what are you thanking me for?" she asked.
"For not letting me feel sorry for myself, and get sidetracked by old memories, things I can't change…things I had no control over." John replied as he laced his fingers with hers.
"Well, in that case, your very welcome," Joss said, brushing his lips with hers.
John followed Joss's lips with his, and kissed her back, lengthening the kiss with a sigh. He then looked in her eyes and saw the same slow hunger beginning to stir in her. It had been a while since they had been together, and he knew they couldn't be together now, but maybe he could take just a taste of her sweet lips. He bent his head, taking her mouth with his, moving his lips against hers smoothly, then with a little more pressure. They kissed like that for a while, open mouth kisses, meant to explore, and tantalize until he slipped his tongue into her warm mouth to delve deeper into her mysteries.
Joss sighed with pleasure as John's tongue did wondrous things to her mouth. He was such a good kisser. She knew they couldn't do anything more, but at least they could have this. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, and they echoed each other's moans of pleasure as his hands roamed up and down her back, molding her body to his.
Eventually, they knew they had to stop or there would be no stopping, no matter where they were. John pulled away, leaning his forehead against Joss's, his breath coming in heavy gasps along with hers.
Joss looked into John's stormy blue-grey eyes, knowing hers reflected the same tempest. She smiled weakly as she said breathlessly, "I've never made out in a hospital before, this is a first."
John returned Joss's smile, and said with a soft laugh, "I guess we lost our virginity together, cause it's a first for me, too." He took one last sip of her luscious lips, pulled away from her, and then climbed out of the bed so he wouldn't be tempted to continue. Besides he needed a shower, and a change of clothes, not to mention a shave. He then had to meet with Harold to discuss what he knew, and how they were going to move forward.
Joss sat up in bed as she watched John dress, and then gather his things to leave. She knew he had to go talk to Harold about the case, and what he now knew, but she really wished he didn't have to go. She didn't realize she was actually pouting until John looked over to say goodbye, and frowned.
Walking up to the bed, John asked, "What's the matter sweetheart?"
Joss looked down at her hands. "It's silly. I just don't want you to leave, that's all," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, feeling like a two year old not wanting her daddy to go to work.
John reached down, and gently pushed Joss's chin up with his fingers so that he could look at her. "It's not silly at all. You've been through a lot, and I don't blame you for not wanting to be alone. Unfortunately, I have no choice. I need to meet with Harold so we can decide what to do about Snow." He said as soothingly as he could. "I'll try to be back by lunch. Is there something I can pick up for you, cause I know you're not going to want the hospital's food," he finished with a smile. John bent down, and pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him. When he released her, he kissed her and asked, "Okay?"
Joss smiled, and said, "Okay. Stop at that Pal's burger place we go to, and pick up some burgers…with onion rings….and a caramel milk shake," she said, already looking forward to lunch. John chuckled as he headed for the door, shaking his head.
Joss chewed her lip, and watched John leave with a mixture of emotions, none of them very good. She was mostly concerned how this case was affecting John in such a negative way. She had been able to talk him down this morning, but that was through his concern for her welfare. She was worried about when she was released from the hospital, and back to herself. If he went to that dark place again, would she be able talk to him, and love him, through it? Her heart told her yes, but her mind remembered the deadness, the lack of emotion in his eyes. She wished with all her heart that she would never see that again, but she had a gut feeling that she had not seen that look for the last time.
John walked toward Harold's office with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He wasn't exactly sure how Harold was going to take the news that not only did John know who the perpetrator was, he knew him personally.
John and Mark Snow had met on a cold day in December of 2004 in a quiet coffee house in DC where he was stationed at the time after a grueling op in Southeast Asia. It was just after his debriefing when John walked into the coffee house and immediately spotted a man standing in a shadowy corner of the shop trying to blend in with his surroundings, and doing a piss-poor job of it in John's opinion. John assumed, correctly, that he was the man he was there to meet, and that he wanted to observe John before actually meeting him. John pretended he didn't see the man who, to the untrained eye, would have been just another patron in the coffee shop, but it took John only one sweeping glance to take in his height, build, strength, weight, his abilities, and weaponry. The man may have been piss-poor at surveillance, but he certainly knew how to handle himself in a fight, and by the coldness in his dark eyes he wasn't averse to fighting dirty.
John had sat at a small table, ordered his black coffee, and sat waiting for the man to decide to introduce himself. Eventually, the man disengaged himself from the wall he had been leaning against, and walked over to John's table.
"I'm Mark Snow, Central Inelegance Agency," the man had said as he sat down across from John without being invited, and without extending his hand. "You spotted me when you came in, didn't you?" Mark had asked, and John had just nodded his head once without speaking. "Why didn't you call me out?" Mark had asked, with just a tiny hint of belligerence.
John hadn't answered immediately. Rarely did he meet someone that he didn't like, especially at first passing, but Snow had rubbed him wrong from the moment he sat down. Before Mark had spoken, John could feel the arrogance emitting from him. Snow hadn't even give John an opportunity to introduce himself. John had Snow sized up in a matter of minutes, and he didn't like him.
"I figured you had stationed yourself there to observe me, sir" John replied.
Snow had eyed John for a moment then nodded his head. After that they had discussed the offer of a position in the CIA, a general outline of the training and education involved, and a vague description of what was expected of John with more details to follow once John had confirmed that he was joining. Both men had shook hands and departed the coffee shop, and thus John's career in the CIA began. John was still unsure to this day why he hadn't seen the signs during that meeting, and turned them down flat.
As John approached Harold's office, he shook off old memories that tried to cling to him like cobwebs, and focused on the matter at hand. What do we do now?
John knocked on Harold's door before walking in and found Harold behind his desk just getting started for the day.
"Good morning, John, I trust you had a better evening than you had an afternoon?" Harold said in way of a greeting. He had been busy at his desk so he didn't see John as he approached. When he looked up he frowned. "Is everything, alright, John? Is Joss okay?" he asked with concern.
John took a deep breath. "I had good evening, not so good morning," he replied. John wasn't sure where to begin, so he sat in one of the chairs in front of Harold's desk, crossing one leg over his knee. "I'll tell you like I told Joss," he began, "I know who's threatening her, I know who's attacking me, I know who's on that flash drive she stole, I know who's killing the models, and I know whose voice is on that damn recording. I know everything." John repeated to a stunned Harold.
"How…who?" Harold stuttered after a moment, not sure which to ask first.
This was going to be the hard part. How did John tell Harold it came together in a dream? He didn't want to sound like some prophet seeing visions, but, then again, he had saved Joss through a dream. Shifting restlessly in his chair, John cleared his throat and tried to explain.
"Uh, well, actually I was having a nightmare this morning," John began, and when he remembered the dream he felt a chill go through him. His voice quiet, he said, "I was dreaming about something that happened while I was in the CIA, something I've never told anyone, and I never will, but it involved Mark Snow," he swallowed hard before he continued, a haunted look in his eyes. "Through the dream, I recognized Snow's voice, his movements, his MO I suppose you could say," John finished looking up at Harold, hoping he sounded remotely reasonable.
Harold sat quietly for a moment digesting everything John had said. He was a logical person, not prone to believe in supernatural intervention of any kind…normally. Even he couldn't deny that John's quick actions the night he had the dream in the hospital possibly saved Joss's life, and now this information, although farfetched, was reasonable. John's mind, relaxed in sleep, after hearing the voice on the recording remembered a past trauma that connected to this current crisis. He would very much like to know what that trauma was, but that could wait for another time. What was important now was that they had a lead; something, or someone, to investigate. Harold looked back at John who was waiting anxiously for a response.
"It would seem that we have some work to do, John. Tell me everything you know about Mark Snow."
A/N: I'm sure most everyone had already guessed it was Snow. Now, how do they catch him? Can Joss save John from the darkness that this case brings on him? See you soon...