30 – Whatever This Is, Part II
A/N: Whatever This Is concludes with Part II:
Reese watched Finch cross the apartment complex's courtyard, then rolled his wheelchair over to an antique cabinet and opened it.
'John Hayes' was going to stay in the building for a little while longer.
With the crush of law enforcement officers, maintenance crews, the media and curious residents still milling around, anyone attempting to move out right now, even with the few items that Reese possessed, would be noticed, so it made sense for him to remain here.
Plus, even though Reese would never admit it, the fight with Rick Morris had taken its toll – he needed a day or two more to recover.
The apartment's elderly owner, who now spent almost all of his time in Florida, had an impressive collection of old jazz records and a multi-tiered stereo system that let you play music for hours.
As Reese loaded his selections onto the turntables, he reviewed the updates he'd gotten today from Finch:
The Apthorp's (*1) senior management had offered Lily Thornton the use of another unit while her place was being repaired, but the young chef had refused, stating that she needed to stay, to make her home hers again. Free of Rick Morris, she was already back at work, crafting additions to her award-winning menus.
Using the bump key that Reese had fashioned for him, Finch had broken into the restauranteur's penthouse last night and found irrefutable evidence that Rick Morris was a murderer.
While Morris' wealth and connections might help him get stalking and harassment charges reduced, or even dismissed, he wouldn't be able to beat a murder charge with the mountain of evidence that Finch had discovered.
Lily Thornton, and any other women he might put his deadly attentions to, would be safe.
When Reese noted with a knowing smile that Finch was not only getting good at breaking and entering, but that he also seemed to enjoy it, the reclusive billionaire shot back, "It's simple mechanics, Mr. Reese. Even a child could do it," but the older man couldn't help the small smile that stole across his lips, before his features resumed their usual stoic expression.
An apoplectic US Marshal Service staffer had screamed at a chastened Ernie Trask that he was being sent someplace, "where the only ones who sling more bull than you are the cows you're gonna be livin' with!" When Finch noted that the former super's tales, even though they were true, had put him in serious danger again, Reese replied quietly, "He gave up everything to tell the truth, Harold. And he did try to save Lily."
After a long moment, Finch sighed, then his fingers began flying across a keyboard. A short time later they listened to the stunned and disbelieving staffer now informing Trask that he was being sent to the Pacific Northwest to a badly neglected rose garden, whose modest non-profit board had despaired of finding anyone willing to take on the herculean task of not only rehabilitating the hundreds of rose bushes, but also a complicated infrastructure of trellises, archways, irrigation systems, greenhouses, sheds and the many other trees, shrubs and perennial flowers that were also in the 50-plus acre garden, as well as a dilapidated cottage for the caretaker to live in.
"The ideal candidate," they heard the incredulous staffer read, "should also be a gifted storyteller, with the ability to not only recount established fables, myths and legends about roses from history, but also be able to craft 'Fractured Fairy Tales'(*2) of their own for tours and other events."
"A white Bengal tiger, who is really a handsome prince, trapped in an enchanted rose garden, until…" there was a pause, then they heard Trask snap his fingers, "he's rescued by a beautiful mermaid who lives in an underwater castle known as 'Coral Gables' – whaddaya think?"
"I think," they heard the staffer push his chair back, "you're on a plane in two hours. And I think I need a cup of coffee, or…" he muttered under his breath, "something much stronger."
"Bring me somethin', too, thanks!" Trask said happily. "And," they heard a clattering sound, "I'm gonna need your pen and notepad to write all this stuff down…the enchanted garden has a Cubana rose (*3) that makes you tell the truth if you pick it, and there's a nightclub, on nights when the moon is full, the roses dance until dawn…"
"Mr. Trask is going to have his hands full," Finch brought up several photos of the garden in its original and now current condition. "Restoring the garden to its former state will take years."
"He'll have a purpose, Finch, and," Reese smiled, "a whole new audience."
"Yes, I think Mr. Trask," Finch let another small smile steal across his lips, "will finally have a home."
As music filled the room, Reese wheeled his chair back over to the windows. He closed his eyes, letting the warm afternoon sunlight shine down on his face, as he thought about her.
Joss.
It was a name that was strong, yet soft, Reese thought. It suited her.
He'd only said it once out loud, that night when her CI had tried to kill her.
Reese had tried to say her name again, after he'd been shot, but he couldn't speak.
Perhaps, he thought, no words were needed.
She'd spoken with her big brown eyes as she'd helped him into the car.
He'd spoken when he nodded back.
As slow, sensual music filled the room, Reese imagined those smooth notes flowing over her raven locks, tickling that gleaming brown skin and parting those gorgeously full lips, lips that even as he stood on the top of that parking garage, even as he knew that Snow was going to kill him, he wondered what it would be like to finally kiss her.
One last request, he smiled to himself, before he died.
The apartment door opened.
Reese didn't turn around. "Forget something, Finch?"
"That's his name, huh…Finch?"
Opening his eyes, Reese gazed down at the courtyard below. There were no lights or sirens, no armored teams, no undercover policemen awaiting her signal. He didn't hear any other footsteps or sounds of movement behind her.
She was alone.
This apartment had been owned by the same family since the Apthorp was built, and while it had been modernized over the years, it still contained many of its original features, features that had been forgotten about decades ago, but that Reese had discovered during his stay here.
Features that he could use to escape.
A laundry chute that would hurtle him to the basement, a wallpapered over door in what had once been the maid's room that would take him through a maze of dusty, windowless hallways to a servant's entrance hidden behind one of Trask's rosebushes, pull-down stairs in a closet that led to a narrow spiral staircase that brought you up to the roof, where before air conditioning, residents could cool off on hot summer nights.
While Joss was well trained, and armed, Reese knew that even in his weakened state, he could easily overpower her and disappear.
He could make the chase begin again.
Instead, he slowly turned his wheelchair around.
"Hello, Detective."
Joss closed the apartment door. "Snow called you 'John' – is that your name? John?"
"Does it matter?" he asked softly.
Their eyes met and held, and Reese saw a question in her eyes, not whether she would arrest him or not, but a question that she was asking herself about something else.
"It does to me," Joss finally answered. "It matters," she took off her coat, "a lot."
She held up both of her hands, then slowly removed her holster and laid it on a side table. Her ID, handcuffs, keys and all of her other police paraphernalia went next.
Her plain silver earrings joined them, and then Joss unclipped a barrette, letting her thick, dark waves fall heavily to her shoulders.
Lastly, she placed her gold shield on the shimmering pile.
Joss was now just dressed in the plain white shirt, jeans and the heeled boots that she'd worn the day they'd spoken on the mass spec radio.
"What are you doing," Reese whispered.
"I don't know."
She crossed the room, standing close to him and then Joss slowly reached out and touched his face.
As her slender fingers slowly trailed along his skin, Reese saw relief, guilt, compassion, sadness and curiosity on her beautiful face, and finally, he saw that she had answered the question in her eyes when she touched his lips.
Reese pulled her into his lap, not caring about the pain in his stomach and thigh.
"How long," she asked.
He glanced at the clock. "Six. He brings me dinner."
She nodded. "It's just this one time, John."
"I know, Joss. Just this one time."
He wheeled them both down the hall.
The master bedroom was dark, but Reese pressed a button and the motorized curtains and shades opened, flooding the room with the warm afternoon sunlight.
"I want to see you," he said in a thick, low voice.
He slowly unbuttoned her shirt, his fingers savoring the feel of her satiny smooth skin. There was a clunking sound as she kicked off her boots, and Reese felt his cock straining against his pants, as she wriggled in his lap and her jeans joined the boots on the floor. He carefully unhooked her bra, hearing her sigh, as he pulled it away from her body and tossed it across the room. Lastly, Joss rose to her feet, her panties ghosting down her long legs and she stepped out of them.
She was a vision, like something out of a fantasy, the sunlight making her skin shimmer like bronze, as the warm rays caressed her luscious curves.
Joss pulled him to his feet, and then she helped him out of his clothes. He felt her fingers touch the tender scars on his stomach and thigh, and she gazed up at him, with tears in her eyes, but then Joss blinked the tears away and helped him to the bed.
They pulled down the coverlet, blanket and top sheet and then settled down on the cool white linens.
As Reese held her in his arms, he realized that he'd been making love to her, courting her, from the moment they met.
There would be time for long, slow kisses and tantalizing touches in the hours they had before Finch returned.
But now, Reese needed to be inside Joss, even more than he needed to breathe.
She touched his face and he knew she needed it, too.
Parting her legs, Reese slowly slid inside her.
Their bodies twined together, and the world disappeared.
XXX
Opening his eyes, Reese heard the water from the shower stop.
A few moments later, Joss walked out of the bathroom, already dressed.
He sat up, but she shook her head.
Joss walked over to the bed, her fingers trailing along his face again.
Take care, John," she said softly.
He heard her walk down the hall, then a few moments later, the sound of the apartment door opening and closing.
Wrapping the top bedsheet around his body, Reese grabbed one of his crutches that was leaning against the wall and made his way down the hall.
He touched the master key that Joss had used to enter the apartment, running his fingers over the cold, smooth metal, as the music finally came to a stop.
Reese closed his eyes for a moment, then hobbled over to the wide living room windows.
He watched Joss make her way across the courtyard.
She didn't look back.
Reese watched her disappear, and then he smiled as he thought about what she'd said.
Joss had told him to take care.
She hadn't told him goodbye.
Turning around, he headed back over to the stereo system.
A moment later, the music began again.
XXX
"You okay, Ma?" Taylor asked as he loaded the dishwasher.
"I'm fine, T." Picking up tonight's leftovers, Joss opened the refrigerator door. "Why," she stood there, pretending that she was finding a place on one of the shelves for the casserole, all the while wondering if there was some sign that she had spent hours making passionate love to a complete stranger, "don't I look okay?"
"You look," she heard him close the dishwasher door and start the cycle, "happy."
Joss closed the refrigerator door and stared at him. "H-H-Happy?" she croaked.
"Yeah. Really happy." He tilted his head at her. "And that's okay, Ma, for you to be happy." Taylor paused and he suddenly looked older than his years. "You deserve it."
With a gentle smile, he kissed her cheek, then grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the counter and loped down the hall to his bedroom.
XXX
Reese looked down at the shirts laid out on his bed.
The sun wasn't even up yet and he was trying to decide what to wear for his meeting with Joss.
Carter, he reminded himself, today she was Carter.
She wasn't the sensuous, passionate woman that he had made love to for hours on that sunny afternoon days ago.
Her voice was clipped, dispassionate, almost remote when she asked him to meet with her, but Reese didn't miss the hesitant, hushed way she'd said his name, as though she was remembering how'd she cried it out in ecstasy as their bodies had come together over and over.
Reese looked down at the shirts again.
He was back in his bolthole, back in his partnership with Finch, back to working the Numbers.
Everything was back to normal, but everything had changed.
He picked up a white shirt.
No - paired with his black suit, that had become a uniform of sorts, he didn't want to wear that.
The last time she'd seen him in a white shirt, it had been covered with his blood.
He put that aside.
The black shirt made it look like he was trying too hard – he tossed it on top of the white shirt.
The blue shirt – loyalty, honesty, trustworthiness…
Kara had always accused him of being a Boy Scout – he didn't want to remind himself of that, or, his lips quirked, make it seem as though he was trying out to be Carter's dog.
It joined the others.
Finally, he opened the elegant shirt box sitting on the scarred and chipped coffee table in this grimy little efficiency.
After Carter had called him yesterday, Reese had taken to the streets, and walked for hours, as he had done almost every night since that stolen afternoon, until his stomach and thigh screamed for relief and he finally fell into bed exhausted, in a futile attempt to stop dreaming about her.
He saw the shirt hanging in the tailor's window.
It was a soft, pale lilac, and even though it was late at night, it glowed with a light of its own.
The tailor was getting ready to close up shop, but he smiled when Reese entered his tiny establishment.
"The rest of the bolt was damaged when it arrived from Firenze, but I had just enough to make this one shirt," he confided, as though he was sharing some great secret.
Reese tried it on. It fit perfectly, and even though he suspected that the tailor was spinning a tale for him, he paid what the man asked without even blinking.
He took the shirt out of the box, held it up to the light.
Yes, Reese thought, he'd wear this.
Putting the other shirts away, he showered, shaved and got dressed, then stepped outside for a long walk in the pre-dawn darkness before he met her.
A few hours later, Reese saw Carter enter the Lyric Diner.
He watched her sip her coffee, watched her anxiously watch the front entrance, even though she tried to be cool about it and then he entered the diner through the back.
The conversation went as expected; she apologized again for turning him over to Snow, even though she had already given Reese silent apologies when she helped him and Finch escape, and when she ran her soft, slender fingers down his face at the apartment, but the gentle humor she used today told him that even though she would always feel some guilt about what had happened, she was starting to work her way past it.
Finch had grudgingly noted that Carter had done well filling in for him while he was injured, and while Reese wanted to tell her about the Machine, he honored his promise to the reclusive billionaire, even though Reese knew she would never stop asking about it – and he looked forward to bantering and fussing about it with her.
She also let him know, without saying so, that while there was a NYPD task force looking for him, she had decided not to be part of it.
The chase, at least between the two of them, was over.
And even though Carter noted that she had to follow the rules as a cop, she had already proven, as Reese had known, that she would do the right thing, even if that meant breaking those rules.
She had done the right thing when she turned him over to Snow.
She had done the right thing when she let he and Finch go.
And she would do the right thing again, especially if it meant saving a life.
He saw how her eyes slowly ran down his body, when she murmured, "Nice suit," and he couldn't keep the soft entreaty out of his voice, when he said, "It's your choice," letting her know that he wanted more than just having her work with himself and Finch.
He'd had a taste.
A single, glorious, mind-altering taste, and Reese wanted more.
So, so, so much more.
He didn't just want her on the team, or just in his bed.
He wanted her in his life.
Careful not to touch her skin as he handed Carter the phone they would use to contact her, Reese made his way out of the diner.
He'd handed her one phone at the Lyric, but another one was in his coat pocket.
From a secluded spot across the street, he watched her sip what had to be now ice-cold coffee, watched her turn over the phone in her slender hands, watched her slip it, and then their latest Number's name, into her pocket.
He watched her shake her head, lips quirking, when the server told her that her bill had already been paid, thanking her profusely for the generous tip.
He watched her leave the diner and walk down the street.
Her cruiser was in the opposite direction, but as she headed away from it, Reese knew he was not the only one who had spent hours walking alone in the darkness.
Reese followed her, his long fingers around the other phone in his pocket.
He waited until she was in an area that he knew had no surveillance cameras, then Reese shut off his earpiece.
"Hello, Detective."
She whirled around, her huge dark eyes taking him in, but she didn't say anything.
Reese's fingers touched hers as he handed her the other phone.
Without a word, she slipped it into her pocket and walked away.
"Take care, Joss," he whispered as he watched her disappear in the crowd, then Reese headed towards the Library.
XXX
"Plans tonight, Mr. Reese?" Finch paused in his typing as he watched Reese put on his coat.
It had been a good day. They had prevented a triple murder, returned a priceless baseball card collection to the rightful owners, and had watched the thief and would be murderer be carted off to Rikers.
But a long evening stretched out ahead of him, Reese thought.
Days had passed, and he hadn't heard back from Joss.
His long fingers curled around that other phone in his pocket. "Thought I'd go for a walk, then listen to the game tonight, Finch."
The reclusive billionaire leaned back in his chair. "Another solitary evening. But I suppose," he slowly turned his body towards Reese, "they must be, while you're waiting to hear from Detective Carter."
Reese turned towards the man that he'd slowly come to like and even trust in the months since they'd started working together.
His silence let Finch know that he was right.
Reese sensed that Finch knew that things had changed between himself and Joss; that even if he wasn't aware that she had come to him at the Apthorp, he had definitely noticed how happy, almost giddy Reese was when he'd entered the Library after meeting Joss that morning at the diner.
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you, Mr. Reese, what you're doing is foolhardy, extremely dangerous and incredibly selfish."
"I know, Finch," Reese said quietly.
"You're endangering our mission and not just our lives, but hers."
"I know," Reese nodded slowly.
"We have nothing to lose, but Detective Carter, Jocelyn…" he paused, "even if she keeps her life, she could lose her livelihood, her reputation, everything, if you continue to pursue this."
"I know." Reese took a deep breath, as the feelings that he had buried deep inside himself, slowly turned into thoughts and then words, and fought their way to the surface. "She sees me, Finch," he said softly. "Not the soldier, or the assassin, or even, The Man in a Suit. Joss sees me."
He watched his friend take his words in, and then Finch slowly nodded. "And no one else ever has."
"No. They saw what they wanted, or needed to see. And," Reese shook his head, "I let them. I wasn't…" he paused, "brave enough or strong enough to let them see me, because I…" he paused again, "didn't want to see myself. I can, with Joss."
"Yes, I know you can," Finch adjusted his glasses, "and have," he quietly admitted, "from the moment you met her."
"I won't," Reese said in a low fierce voice, "let anyone or anything hurt her. Ever."
"Even if you wind up in prison or dead, Or even," Finch's voice softened, "if she never calls."
Reese nodded. He had considered this, on those long, lonely walks, that Joss might decide that they would only have that one glorious afternoon.
But even if she never called, Reese knew, she had already given him back something he'd lost a long time ago.
She had given him the strength to truly be himself.
And the strength for him to demand that others see him, too.
"I know you don't approve, Harold, but I think…you understand."
He watched his friend look off in the distance. Reese knew, from Fusco's rather haphazard surveillance, that Finch had used his newly acquired and honed breaking and entering skills to go inside a small office building that had been converted into an arts space a few nights ago.
The four-story building housed dance, photography, sculpture, glass blowing and many other artistic pursuits, including several artist's studios. There was a small auditorium for performances and an art gallery on one of the upper floors.
Many of the inner walls were glass, so Fusco couldn't follow Finch inside without being seen, but as he had informed Reese, "Glasses went inside after everybody left and stayed for a while. There was definitely somethin', done by somebody there that he wanted to see."
Someone out there, Reese thought, that Finch still cared deeply for.
Finally, Finch turned to look at him. "You are correct, Mr. Reese. I don't approve. But I do…understand, John. More than you know." He paused, as if he was going to say something else, but then Finch turned back to his keyboard. "Have a good evening, Mr. Reese."
"You, too, Finch."
As Reese turned to leave, he heard Finch whisper in a voice so low that Reese could hardly hear him, "Good luck, John."
And even though he knew that Finch couldn't see him, Reese nodded his thanks back.
He turned up the collar of his coat, and walked out of the Library.
XXX
Joss patted her belly as she sat down on the old, worn bleachers and watched a dazzling array of individuals make their way around a crumbling quarter mile track.
She was pleasantly full after having dinner with her former in-laws, her ex-husband Paul and her son.
Taylor's paternal grandparents had retired to the Southwest a number of years ago, but had returned to the city for the 50th wedding anniversary party of some dear friends of theirs, and, as Taylor's grandmother, Bettie, had teased when she wrapped Taylor in a bear hug, "to spoil my favorite grandchild."
"I'm your only grandchild, Gram," the teen, who now towered over his grandmother, smiled down at her.
"Oh…" she thought, as if remembering, then she smiled mischievously up at him, "I guess that's why you're my favorite!" laughing as Taylor enveloped her in a bear hug of his own.
They were good people, and while they had struggled with Joss' decision to divorce their son, and her choosing to leave a lucrative corporate legal career to become a cop, over time they had come to accept and respect her choices, and they were overjoyed that Paul had finally gotten help and was once again a part of his son's life.
Joss had joined them for an early dinner, before the four of them headed off to the Barclays Center to see the Nets play, or as Paul, Sr., a long-suffering Knicks fan, had teased his son and grandson, "to see them lose," then after the game they were spending the night at Paul's house.
Joss had dressed for dinner in a dark red sweater dress that had a matching capelet and stiletto heeled black boots. Her hair was up in a loose chignon, and she had forsaken her usual silver hoops for a pair of golden teardrop shaped earrings that swayed gently in the light early evening breeze.
She had meant to walk some of dinner off at the track, but realized that she'd probably kill herself trying to make her way around the worn, cracked surface in her four inch heels, so she decided to sit down instead and watch all the different kinds of folks streaming past her.
There were fitness enthusiasts trying to get in their daily step count, young parents praying that the fresh air and exercise would lull their little ones to sleep, teen girls watching teen boys who were in turn watching them, a gospel choir engaging in soaring harmonies while they walked, and many others.
The track was behind a former local high school that the powers that be deemed too antiquated and expensive to renovate, so they closed it several years ago.
A local church group snapped it up, with plans to turn the complex into a school for students from pre-K all the way through high school and to develop a local community and job training center.
So far, they had been very successful; the pre-K and elementary level classes were all filled up, with the upper level classes well on their way to being implemented, and the community center was now open on weekends and also provided respite for harried parents with after school programs.
Canny marketers, the school administrators had developed a plan to not only raise money to replace the track and bleachers, but also to get the entire neighborhood involved in the process.
While the track was old, it was still serviceable, and most of the bright overhead lights still worked. A lock box had been attached to the entrance gate of the fence surrounding the track, with a small sign asking folks to pay what they could, on an honor system, to use the track.
Everyone did, sometimes mere pennies, other times significant amounts, and the entire neighborhood looked on with pride at the thermometer shaped tote board that showed that their contributions were slowly, but surely adding up.
The old track was lit up from dusk to dawn, and in the city that never sleeps, there were always people there.
It was where Joss had slipped out to in the dead of night to walk and think about him.
John.
It was a name that was strong, yet soft, Joss thought. It suited him.
She sighed as she thought about that golden afternoon.
He was a passionate, yet tender lover, who had brought Joss to her peak over and over, waves of pleasure that built and built until she was swept away by a tidal wave of soaring sensation, that left her spent and gasping, until the waves of pleasure began all over again.
She'd expected that afternoon to be hesitant and awkward, since they were strangers, but to her surprise it wasn't, and Joss realized with a start, as she watched an elderly man push his even more elderly dog in a stroller down the track, that the only person whom she had talked to more than John, during these past months, was her son.
John had infuriated, mystified, challenged, inspired, terrified and thrilled her.
He had given her nightmares and filled her dreams.
He knew her, all of her, in a way that nobody ever had before.
He'd been making love to her, courting her, Joss now realized, from the moment they met.
Other men had brought her flowers, John had, her lips quirked, put perps, trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys, in the trunk of her cruiser, to show his devotion.
His busting into her life had blown it all apart, but instead of those jagged shards fighting each other, or falling into an abyss, somehow they had fit like the pieces in a jigsaw puzzle and melded together.
Joss was stronger than before, yet more vulnerable, and for the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of that vulnerability.
Joss knew that she needed to explore it all, no matter the consequences.
And she knew that she needed to explore it with John.
Her slender fingers reached into the small black purse that was hidden under her capelet.
There were only a few items inside for an evening out.
ID, keys, lipstick, a small compact.
And two phones.
The gospel choir was making its way past her.
You gave me wings and made me fly
You touched my hand, I could touch the sky
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me
You said no star was out of reach
You stood by me and I stood tall
I had your love, I had it all
I'm grateful for each day you gave me
Maybe I don't know that much
But I know this much is true
I was blessed because I was loved by you
Joss took out that other phone, held it in her hand.
You were always there for me
The tender wind that carried me
A light in the dark shining your love into my life
You've been my inspiration
Through the lies you were the truth
My world is a better place because of you (*4)
She took a deep breath, then dialed the one number that was there.
XXX
Reese was stretched out on his narrow bed, semi-listening to the play-by-play on an old transistor radio.
He had had dreams of that other phone ringing, so at first he thought he'd imagined it.
His hands, always so steady and sure, were shaking, and he almost dropped the phone as he opened it.
He was rock hard before the third ring.
"Hello, Detective," he murmured, fighting to keep his voice even.
"Hey, John."
There was singing in the background, as though she was listening to a choir. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you…in church?"
She chuckled. "Kinda…" Reese heard her take a deep breath. "I wanna see you, John."
He closed his eyes and sighed. "Tell me where you are. I'll have a car pick you up."
Reese gave her the address of the most expensive hotel in town, told her that there would be a key card waiting for her at the front desk.
"Thank you, Joss…" he whispered, "for calling."
"I'll see you soon." She disconnected the call.
XXX
The suite that Reese had reserved had a wrap around balcony, and the city skyline glittered like jewels in the night sky.
He knew that Joss had probably already eaten, so Reese had arranged for champagne and some fresh fruit to be brought to the suite.
After he'd gotten the call from Joss, Reese had taken a quick shower, ran a razor over his face and changed. Instead of his usual black suit, he'd chosen a silvery pale gray one, that paired beautifully with the lilac shirt.
Reese turned as Joss entered the sumptuous suite.
"Nice view," she smirked at the gorgeous skyline. The entire city seemed to be laid out at their feet.
"It's okay, Carter," he shrugged, as he slowly crossed the room towards her.
She raised an eyebrow. "Seen better, John?"
"Much better, Detective," Reese murmured as his eyes slowly swept up her body. She looked incredible. "You might say," he smirked down at her, "I've got the best view in town." His eyes softened. "You look beautiful, Joss."
"Thank you. You look good, too," she smiled up at him, then her smile faded. "You know, someone told me that I'd cross the line one day."
"So…is that what this is?" He fought to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "You're just crossing the line for a while, Joss?"
"No, John…that's not what this is. I'm not sure," a soft smile stole across her face, "what this is," Joss reached out and slowly took his hand in hers, her slender fingers intertwining with his. "I only know that wherever you are, I belong there," and now her eyes were shining, "with you."
Tears filled his eyes, and he nodded, unable to speak.
Reese swept Joss up in his arms and he showed her all the things he couldn't say to her, until the sun rose.
XXX
Reese smiled at the sight of Joss, dressed only in his lilac shirt, gazing out at the city waking up far below.
He rose from the bed, crossed the room, and put his arms around her.
She leaned back against his chest, and sighed, and he knew that she was crinkling her brow in that one of a kind Joss Carter way that he loved so much. "You know, John, whatever…" she shrugged, "this is, it's not gonna be perfect."
He knew she was right. They had, each in their own way, closed themselves off from the world, even closed themselves off from their very selves, for a long, long time.
Opening up, really opening themselves up to each other, wouldn't be easy.
Reese knew that they'd stumble and falter, make huge mistakes, and sometimes, even though they'd desperately try not to, they'd hurt each other.
But he also knew they'd always make their way back to each other, and each time, whatever this was, would become stronger still.
"I know, Joss. It will be…" now a slow grin spread across his face, "better…than perfect."
Reese turned her around, his grin widening at the puzzled look on her beautiful face. "It will be real, Joss. And because it's real, it will be good."
"Whatever this is," she nodded, as a wide grin spread across her face, too.
"Yes, Joss," he leaned down and kissed her, "whatever this is."
And, to their joy, and the joy of those around them, it was.
(*1) I should have noted in Part 1, that the Apthorp really does exist; it was where POI filmed the ep Super. Completed in 1908, the city block long complex is a NYC Landmark building and is also on the National Register of Historic Places. One of the most exclusive addresses in the city, notable residents have included Lena Horne, George Balanchine, Al Pacino, Jennifer Hudson, Joseph Heller and Nora Ephron.
(*2) Fractured Fairy Tales were a segment of The Rocky and Bullwinkle show from 1959-1964. Narrated by Edward Everett Horton, they offered a spin on classic fairy tales, where Prince Charming turns Sleeping Beauty into a tourist attraction instead of waking her, and the Seven Dwarfs are con artists.
(*3) Cubana roses range from pale pink to apricot. They are long stemmed, single bloomers, great for cut flowers. There's also a Tiger Rose, which I'm sure Ernie will weave into his tales!
(*4) The song that Joss heard was Because You Love Me, sung by Celine Dion for the 1996 film Up Close and Personal. I attended a church banquet a few years ago and heard an absolutely beautiful rendition of this from the choir that stayed with me.
A/N: The gif from PiscesChikk that inspired the original snippet was that of an old LP, spinning slowly around.
The title of this drabble came from the S2 ep 'Til Death. Reese asks Joss during one of their car talks "Ever think about moving on?" She chuckles, "Like dating? Sure. In my spare time, like when I'm not being a single mom, or a homicide Detective, or...whatever this is." She turns towards him, "What about you?" but of course, before Reese answers, Beecher calls, dammit! ;)
The last drabble in this collection, Dessert 1st, will be posted on July 31st.