A/N: Firstly, thanks for reading. I can't reply to reviews directly atm (site issue) but I see them all and PM where I can. Secondly, I don't know how long or short this will be so I'm taking it like Body Count and letting it write itself. Thirdly, this Shaw/Fusco banter is for SWWoman who requested it. And lastly and completely off-topic, if you don't know I heart A Different World where've you been? I wrote Gina in at where I think she'd be today which leaves just Dorian, Lena and Terrence (who I don't care about, sorry, not sorry). I think Jaleesa would be a talk show host/producer and divorcee.

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 14: Muse

Tuesday 6th September 2016, 10.03pm, Hotel Trombone, Broadway, New York

With her client in the hole to the tune of a custom $28,000 watch and John playing the worst she'd ever seen him, Zoe Morgan wasn't having a good night. Senator Campbell had given up on playing and was off doing something in the bathroom she'd have to clean off the counter herself. While she was getting tired of the fixing game, and babysitting badly-behaved men with too much to lose, John looked better that she'd ever seen him. His beard was speckled with more white than she remembered but there was a more boyish look in his eyes, like he'd lost ten years in age in as many months. Faz was getting impatient because he'd lost two hands and he could feel the tiger slipping through his fingers. John grouped his cards by suit and couldn't ignore the four faceless spades; 10, 9, 8, 7 and the Jack of Spades on the table. This was one of those moments that was defined by what happened in just 7 seconds; the time it took for a shot of whiskey to go down his throat.

10.43pm, Hotel Trombone, Broadway, New York

After being pampered on her benefactor's dime, and ordering things she couldn't pronounce from the back of the menu just because, Joss perched her polished and pedicured feet up on the end of the couch for The Jerk; relieved the rest of The Team was doing all the dirty work for once. That was hours ago. And when she forced one eye open she got a glimpse of something horrifying.

"The hell…?" Its eyes turned to meet hers, sending shivers down her spine. The creepy porcelain doll with motion-sensor eyes that followed hers sat on the table. "What kinda Devil-doll is this?"

He cleared his throat, thinking if she focused on the doll she might forget he could've come home with the Bengal tiger currently in transit to Ithaca with its new foolish owner. "It's from the Helena collection of Maudlin porcelain dolls, a collector's item because of its-"

"Get rid of it, John." She insisted, leaping off the sofa when the eyes shot in his direction.

"How?"

She thought on her feet. "Throw it over the balcony."

A certain singer came to mind. "Joss, I can't throw a baby over the balcony. Unless you want your co-workers to meet me for the first time."

She burst out in a fit of laughter. "First time." And another. She threw the breakfast tablecloth over the baby so it could see them and they couldn't see it. "Fine. Devilina can stay the night but I'm praying before we go to sleep. Just a mess…Girl Chuckie."

"Go to sleep, Joss?" He repeated. "You've been knocked out all day."

She could've blamed him but that was too easy. "I earned it. It's my reward for not shooting when I had the chance."

"I love it when you talk like that. That robe looks good on you."

"You're just saying that." She was still flattered. "I should've called Fusco to give him the heads up about the Jungle Book gig."

"He's…resourceful." John rubbed his hands together. "And so am I."

She ducked out of his way. "Don't think I forgot about the poker game, John. But at least it wasn't the tiger. And speaking of cats, how's Zoe?"

"The same." There was more to say; Zoe wasn't her normal self and it looked like her career was either stalling or headed in the wrong direction. Finch had taught him to be more attentive to subtle changes in a woman's appearance so he noticed the cosmetic changes to her face, fillers probably, and the shiny forehead that didn't wrinkle or move at all. She'd once called PR a 'young people's game'; 'something you graduate from into communications, public speaking or political strategy when the heat cools and the phone stops ringing'. Maybe that was why. Either way, he didn't say it at all. "Let's not talk about her; we're still on our honeymoon for about eight and a half hours."

"Oh really? Then what do we talk about?"

He kissed her forehead. "What's next."

Wednesday 7th September 2016, 2.51am, Cayuga Prime Apartments, Cayuga Heights, New York

Since Shaw respected animals much more than humans; she poured a bottle of steak sauce on Prince Farazmon's head after she knocked out his guardians on principle. Faz literally peed his pants when she referred to him as 'Prince Filet Mignon' but since she was being watched by someone with a cooler head and a badge; she had no choice but to heed Finch's advice to avoid using firearms so the animal didn't become agitated. Her silencer helped her bring the 480lb beast to a forced slumber as Faz bolted for his apartment, forever changed and scared out of his mind.

"Holy crap, would you look at that thing?" Fusco exclaimed, referring to the sedated big cat in the crate.

"Yep, that's the Animal Sanctuary people are gonna say." She replied dryly, kicking the empty steak sauce bottle to him for an incredulous game of soccer.

"How come you can…you know…empathise with our furry friends?"

She didn't think too much about her answer. "They're smarter, they make sense and they deserve it."

"You sound like a vegan. So why'd you eat meat?"

"Never met a smart cow. Or a deer. Or a fish. Or a lamb. Or a sheep. Or a-"

"Horse?"

She looked at him with disgust. "What'd you take me for? A murderer?"

9.35am, Paul's house, Elmhurst, Queens

Paul wasn't expecting his son to come back early but he didn't know the back story; that his grandma decided to make a quick exit so she could lick her wounds in the comfort of her own home and when Gregory offered, he tagged along. Although Gina had moved in, she hadn't put many touches on the place; the white, grey and warm wooden interior designed by his ex-girlfriend Kenyatta (who thought sure she was getting a ring, until Valentine's Day, her birthday and Christmas passed by; making it was clear she wasn't) was still mainly untouched. Gina's green and silver KDT – Klassic Dance Troupe – coach's jacket was hanging behind the door. The francophone Hillman graduate had tried a number of careers – even settling down in the American Consular Agency in her family's homeland of Martinique – until she realised she couldn't work under anyone else. So the 80-strong dance troupe was her business and her baby and if you let her tell it, Paul was her baby too. Taylor was just happy to see his dad date someone who wasn't mistaken for his sister or worse, girlfriend.

"She baked cookies, if you want some." It wasn't an offer as much as a dare, Paul nodded enthusiastically as they both knew they were terrible.

Taylor went through the fridge, looking for a snack. "Where's Gina?"

"At the studio, new mirrors. So they got married?"

"Yep. On Monday."

Paul though John was strange, he couldn't put his finger on what, why or how, but his gut said the man was a Russian doll inside a truckload of other Russian dolls. "I never knew they were engaged."

"They weren't…'til we got there." Taylor explained, settling for an apple and cheese.

Now he was home, Paul didn't know what to say to his son seeing as he'd done most of the talking with his counsellor of six years, Susan. She advised him to ask open questions instead of leading ones. "You good?"

"I guess. I called Bella to say I was a jerk."

"Good for you. What'd she say?"

"Not much, just Princeton stuff."

Paul never asked his son if he was jealous or angry that his girlfriend broke their plans for a better deal, an Ivy League dream her parents threw a Quinceañera-sized celebration for, though he suspected he was both. The truth was Taylor was embarrassed and hurt, something everyone else knew but no-one said out loud. "You know Tay; you got Georgia State, Spelman and Clark Atlanta girls to choose from. Good girls working towards something. Get back in the game."

"I thought you liked Bella."

"I do. We all do."

"Then why does everyone keep saying that?"

"'Cause you've had enough time to get used to it. You're the one dragging this out."

"Me?"

"Tay, trust me on this. It's different after college. It's different when you're older. But for now, you gotta move on."

There were enough contradictions at play for Taylor to shake a stick at; this was the same man who got married the weekend after graduation against everyone's advice, took three years to get the message his ex-wife wasn't taking him back, spent the last eight years never single for more than a month-and-a-half, and needed a woman around so much he often got back with his exes to find nothing had changed. The only difference with Gina was they knew what their issue was; they both loved to be right, and they had accepted it. "But you got married in college."

"That's how I know what I'm talking about. It's not wrong it's just…you need more time before you get in so deep."

"Gram asked when you're marrying Gina."

Paul gave the definitive answer, the only answer. "Never. And you can tell her that. We've been there, done that and neither of us was good at it. How's Reggie doing?"

"Still playing football…and girls."

Paul smiled. "Guess he can't hold his liquor either?"

"How'd you know?"

"'Cause the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Susan said it's not healthy to want someone just 'cause you can't have them; it'll make you crazy. And, girls like Bella don't make friends easy 'cause they're misunderstood or they isolate themselves or something."

The embarrassment came on like a hot flash. "You told Susan?"

"We talk about my life; you're a part of my life." Taylor couldn't argue with that. "And I didn't think you'd listen anyway. Apparently you get that from me…apple, tree."

He knew it was true. "I know she's lonely but I don't wanna be just friends."

"That's all you're gonna get…'til Princeton moves to Georgia."

He smiled at the terrible joke. "I get it."

Finally. "Hey, I told Gina we'd fix her car. She got ripped off just for a drive belt last time."

"Okay." This was a time where a father might hug his son or tell him everything was going to be alright; but they weren't those people and Paul wasn't a hugger. Instead, he gave his son a friendly punch in the chest, told him to keep his head up and went off to find the toolbox. And for the first time, Taylor understood what Reggie was missing.