A/N: A common question is, "Has Zoe thought this through?" To borrow from the original Destiny's Child, "No, no, no, no, no."
For OpheliaBlack - yes, Evelyn needs control like she needs her next breath especially after she was completely overthrown by Finch in Summerville.
Random facts: Clogs are traditional Dutch shoes, Vlissingen is a real place with nice sandy beaches, and Searching for Sugarman is a great documentary about Rodriguez the musician. 'I think of you' makes me well up every time - so I can't listen to it.
Back to the fic...
As always, enjoy.
Chapter 24: Miniature
Sunday 18th September 2016, 8.26pm, Scranton, Pennsylvania
For someone who didn't travel much because she filled her time with work, special assignments from Finch, and ad-hoc repairs to John's less-serious bodily harm, Joss didn't think they had crossed state lines until he pulled her helmet off revealing the warmly-lit miniature city below. It could've been the setting of an old movie about hardworking people who drank the same dink at the same bar every Friday for a lifetime. Maybe it was the New England-ness of it but Joss found it charming. Her hands were cold from not having gloves, just John's pockets to rest her hands in when she could. Other than that she held on to him for dear life as she made their journey in the dark. "What'd you think?" He asked as they took a short stroll to an Irish pub that was run by a family, not a Celtic extension of the Mob like quite a few in New York.
She rubs her hands together. "It's quaint, loud enough, chilled-out." He nodded. "Where are we?"
"Scranton, PA, the Electric city."
She stopped walking. "John, what is this place?"
He took a deep breath. "Endgame."
8.31pm, Swann Hotel, Manhattan
To pass the time and ease her nerves about their last try for natural insemination, Arjen initiated a game of blackjack; finding that she was far better than he was at it. "Where did you learn?" He asked, knowing he was holding a losing hand.
"In college at the Student Union." Her hair was braided loosely to the right because her neck was sweaty. "We couldn't have a club because the college couldn't be seen promoting gambling."
"I see. You live an exciting life, Zoe."
She blushed. "Is that so?"
He scratched his widow's peak. "I think so. It's an interesting life you've created for yourself. The people you know, the work you do, it's glamourous. Betoverend."
8.32pm, Tobin's, Scranton, Pennsylvania
Because Joss was so puzzled and seemingly scared of the word 'endgame' John did what a good husband did; rushed her to the nearest pub for a drink to warm and loosen her up at the same time. With a strong cider to share, she was more receptive to what he meant. "I like it here, it has everything we need; it's close enough to go hunting and there's a Junior High School where you could mentor young girls." She was surprised he remembered that was one of her unfulfilled passions, when she couldn't recall the last time they spoke about it. "And it's small enough to drive into the city when we want."
Joss hadn't heard him talk about the future outside of their wedding vows, the parked conversation about the house, apartment, cave or cabin hey would move to, and his confession about planning to take his life before they first met. "Drive from where?"
"A 3-bedroom house with a big-enough backyard for a grill. And a couple grandkids when Taylor gets it together. That's if I can keep ducking." He joked because she was in her neutral 'thinking' face where he couldn't tell what she was thinking. No-one could. She felt him touch her hand, bringing her back out of her daze. "Joss?"
"I'm just surprised, that's all. Never figured you'd want the quiet life."
"Eventually," He explained, "and I can shoot all the deer I want at Towanda Creek without Uncle Sterling pulling rank on me."
She smiled, because she knew how much it meant for him to take that step. Just thinking about it was a big deal. And she liked the scenery, and the slower pace. Most importantly she liked the idea of John the Silver Fox, semi-retired, happy. Happy with her. But that couldn't stop the tug of her heart; that it was a beautiful fantasy and but she wasn't ready yet. "It's a great life; the one you told me about, but John, can we take our time?"
He understood. No spontaneous, motorcycle ride could move her heart along faster and for once he would have to be patient and give her time to detach and fee ready to receive. So there was only one answer he could give. "Sure."
Monday 19th September 2016, 7.03am, Swann Hotel, Manhattan
Zoe Morgan felt far from betoverend the morning Arjen left for his flight to Amsterdam. She couldn't help but feel a spark with him after the long weekend they'd spent together. Overall she felt better about life and although they said goodbye and shook hands, making it feel like a business transaction; she equally hoped it worked and, if it didn't, that she could see him again. Maybe on his turf. Where is Vlissingen anyway?
Wednesday 21st September 2016, 7.11am, Joss' apartment
"You know I love you, don't you?" Joss asked as she got dressed for work and put in her simple studs because there had been some gang warfare that weekend and she knew she was going to be meeting some victims' families that day.
"Of course I do." He massaged the ice pack into the bruise on his stomach because he took a few hits for Shaw to take her shot, in the early hours that morning.
"And you know there's no-one else I'd take that journey to Scranton with you. Step by step. John, don't-"
He got out of bed anyway even though the swelling always went down faster with rest and John couldn't trust himself with codeine to ease the pain. It was a slippery slope in his eyes. "I love you. Only you." Joss wanted to hold him but her touch would just make it worse. His face wasn't off limits though as she took his prickly chin in her hands and kissed his mouth without that lip-biting that would've made her late for work.
11.06am, Vinegar Hill, Brooklyn
Fusco finally arrived after not showing up at the Precinct and making his partner wait two hours so they could speak to the family together. It wasn't unusual for families to react violently to such news, literally and figuratively, particularly in such a crime-ridden part of the city. She would've been nervous waiting in her car if it wasn't for the siren she'd placed on top, although bearing witness to a male drug addict performing oral sex in exchange for drugs was its own trauma to be unpacked later. "Sorry Carter, I overslept."
He smelt like soap and mouthwash, like he'd taken four showers and took 'rinse and repeat' too seriously. Usually cops only did that when they needed to cover up the evidence of their last weekend. "You off the wagon?" She asked casually, because if he was; she was definitely kicking him out of her car.
"No. I just had a busy weekend. Didn't get much sleep." He explained, used to that cynical look of hers.
"Well, looks like you and Hazel make a good team out of hours."
"She split. Couldn't handle my schedule. Thought I was boning Sam."
She looked at him and they both burst into laughter at the prospect of imminent Armageddon. "You don't look too unhappy about it."
"Can't be." He would never tell Sameen "Sporty Spice" Shaw she was right. Never.
"So can I blame Shaw for this boost of confidence? She's one hell of a wingman."
He shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to give her due credit. "What happened in your meeting with Noguerra?"
"He said the state is pressing charges of Identity Fraud against Aaron Canuto but they offered him a plea deal about the operation seeing as he's the last Canuto brother standing. And I don't think Noguerra likes me."
"Probably bad vibes about breaking the Blue code." Fusco knew all about that from being in HR – and being out of it.
"You got any juice for me before we go in there and tell the next-of-kin it's a positive I.D.?"
He nodded. "Shaw told me all about Legs and the Sperminator."
"What?"
"You know, Captain America with clogs on. We don't do secrets." He realised she didn't know what he was talking about. "Oh crap."
She swallows. "Zoe found a guy in Europe that looks like John to knock her up?"
Fusco couldn't take the foot out of his mouth with a podiatrist, two pliers and a chainsaw. "Except he's blonde and never saw the inside of a jail cell. Plays cards and everything. Creepy huh?"
She didn't find it funny. "Someone should stop her."
"Come on, Carter, I thought baby fever was a legit thing."
"It's not baby fever; it's transference. I feel for her baby."
"But you don't know she's even pregnant."
Her woman's intuition told her so. "Yes I do."
4.55pm, Bartholomew & Chantal Sloane Library, Emory University
The newly-named Sloane Library, after a $35 million cash injection from its alumni, had a hangout spot near the vending machines with beanbags for seats and mats on the floor for 'alternative' learners who were more motivated by unconventional surroundings. Taylor knew that spot was where he could find the stoners with 4.0 GPAs, the trust-fund babies whose superior and costly education was the source of their success, and the artists who like to debate about anything, anytime, anyplace. So he was surprised to find Zahra in a debate about the validity of Searching for Sugarman. "He was better than Bob Dylan." She repeated, just because it was making someone red with exasperation. Debate wasn't her thing, but getting a rise out of people was. "I don't even know why we're still talking."
Taylor picked a few abandoned books off the floor. "What was that about?"
"Nothing. I'm used to it at home. So, my friend from middle school, has a podcast on at 8. Wanna come over and hear it?"
"Okay, it is like…Arabic?" It didn't sound as stupid in his head as it did coming out of his mouth.
She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes. And sometimes it's Chance the Rapper. It's Hip-hop."
"That's a thing? Arabic Hip-hop?"
"Uhhh, Meen Erhabi?" She shook her head at his blank expression. "Where've you been?"
"Uhhh, New York?"
"Anyway, she goes by DJ Asmatic."
"I thought you didn't like stuff named after diseases."
"Her name's Asma." Then she quoted him. "It's wordplay."