A/N: The first time we met Paul in 3x08 he showed up unannounced and uninvited. Hmmmmm...

Oh, and does anyone think John should stop messing with Noguerra?

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 38: Mask

Monday 31st October 2016, 8.14pm, Joss' apartment, New York

Joss hadn't spoken her ex-father-in-law's name in years because he wasn't welcome in her home or her life. She'd only been in his presence four equally-unpleasant times; when Paul brought her home to Norfolk (when she refused the cashew nuts she was allergic to and he falsely accused her of looking down on their house), on their wedding day (when he made her mother-in-law cry), at Taylor's Christening (where he was on his best behaviour because it was on a Sunday at church), and at Paul's pre-deployment party (when he told his son not to go overseas and get killed). "Jeremy? How'd you get this number? Leanne? Lucy?" She gave her number to Paul's cousins when he stayed in Virginia.

He sniffed. "You always were a smart one. It's been a long time."

"What do you want, Jeremy?"

"I wanna see my grandson. Unless you said I was dead or sum'n."

Her heart started palpitating. "Talk to your son."

"He's ducking my calls right now. That's a pretty girlfriend he's got though."

She shook her head. "Again, if you wanna see Taylor; talk to his dad. Don't call here again."

"You used to be respectful. Guess things change."

"And some things don't; I see you're still bullying women. Take it up with Paul; don't call me again." Even though she hung up before he could respond, her heart was still beating so fast she thought she could hear it.

9.07pm, Joss' apartment, New York

John took the news as well as she expected him to. "I'm kicking his ass on sight."

"John, he's in his sixties."

"So?" For the first time ever, he used the house phone in the kitchen to make a call. "Paul." Oh, crap. "I don't know what's going on with your dad but I do know he upset my wife and I have a problem with that. A big problem." Joss couldn't hear what was going on on the other end. All she knew what there was some rhythmic grunting coming from John that was both silly and primal and if he was going to go all alpha on her behalf, then maybe she could dust off those heels after all. "Maybe we should." Joss knew those flaring nostrils anywhere; the last thing she needed was to see them come to blows. "Make it stop or I'll make it stop." There were no pleasantries to end their call, just a dialtone and the word, "Asshole."

She buried her head in his chest and he rubbed her back for comfort, thinking of all the times she had to deal with him on her own. "I know it's bad timing…but we need to tell Taylor."

Her head popped up at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Wasn't Taylor just here because of secrets?"

She wasn't used to him being the sensible one. "Well, yeah."

"So maybe it's time to get ahead of this stuff. If he called you and Paul, Taylor's next."

She sighed. "I'm gonna tase Lucy and Leanne if I ever see them again. But you're right."

"What'll you tell him?"

"That his troubled grandfather's back on the scene after a decade and he should ask his dad what's going on." He was looking at her funny. "What?"

"You didn't tell him he was dead, did you?"

Joss was taken aback. "Of course not. Why would you think that? Who would-? Paul."

He nodded. "You better check what he knows first." John could sense her hesitation. "Let's do it tonight."

"He just got back." Pulled out a bottle of bourbon and filled two short glasses. "I hate it when you're right."

"There are worse things. So what's the deal with Jeremy anyway?"

"The last time we spoke, before today, he called me a prissy bitch who left his son for dead and held the kid hostage." That glass of bourbon was downed uncharacteristically in one go. "What more d'you wanna know?"

He nodded patiently and restated something he said earlier. "On sight. Are you ready?"

"I think so. And no adlibs." He couldn't believe she knew what he was thinking. "You've already had your fun with the donuts, the carpet and the collar. And for goodness sake, give the man his dog back; he's got kids." John looked from side-to-side like the mischievous boy who came out to play. "What?"

"That's kinda difficult. Bear's used to her and we always said he needs company."

His reflexes were faster than hers, swiping the bottle before she could pour another glass. Sometimes John was a good influence. "You guys. I know Shaw was all in it too. And how does Finch feel about having more collectibles destroyed?"

"Scout's not that kinda dog."

"She's not your dog either. I swear…"

He patted her arm. "I bet you feel better about telling Taylor now."

This guy… "Actually, I do."

Wednesday 2nd November, 10.45am, 8th Precinct

Rosa Jimenez brought her two-year-old to the Precinct because he was running a fever and she couldn't leave him with a sitter. There were three colourful pairs of studs in her ears and Joss thought she barely looked 21 even though she was 32. "Finally someone's doing something about that man." She said, bouncing her son on her lap while he tugged at the beaded jewellery around her neck. "I knew it the first time we met."

"What interaction did you and your family have with Dave Prewitt?" Joss asked, glad at least one of the parents who filed a complaint came in to talk to her. In her experience, the more contact a family had to DCFS, the more they feared the police and any authority that might take their children away.

"Just normal things, when we didn't have hot water or heat because of that slumlord. Stuff like that. He came to check, to make sure the kids were looked after. And they are."

Joss smiled. "I'm sure they are. So what made you put in a complaint?"

"One day, he stayed too long. I didn't mind because I was doing laundry and I like to talk so anyway, Junito came home from that after-school programme Aim & Reach, you know it?" Joss nodded, even though she didn't. "Anyways, he started acting different. Ignoring me, asking Junito questions. Too many questions. It just felt weird. So I called Theresa at the office and told her not to send him again."

"What did she say?"

"That she never sent him in the first place."

The cogs in Joss' mind were turning. She wanted to give Dave Prewitt the kind of treatment her husband would – over the Brooklyn Bridge and into the river. "Thank you Rosa, is there anything else you remember?"

"His car had a weird bumper sticker on it and he asked Junito if he'd ever been to ice hockey before. My kid likes Chess."

Joss searched New York hockey team logos on her phone and scrolled. "That one. New York Islanders."

Thursday 3rd November, 7.40pm, The R.E.M. Group, Glendale, Queens

Paul had never been happier to see Susan in his life. With Gina in his ear about explaining what the issue was with Taylor before Jeremy reached out directly, Jackass John calling him and acting big and bad on the phone when he needed his ass whupped 3 years ago, and Joss sending Taylor in his direction instead of handling it like she usually did; he was struggling to handle it all. She could tell by the fidgeting; the way he wrung his hands like he was wiping them dry betrayed his anxiety. He offloaded for four minutes straight, which was a record, and didn't want water though his tongue was dry. "Did you complete the worksheet?" She asked, deliberately not addressing his issues because she had a method and wasn't going to let him direct the session.

"Did you hear what I just said?" He fired back, more forcefully than he should have. "Sorry." He breathed through his nose. "I'll take the water now, please."

Because of his distress, she gave him a bottle from her personal supply. "I believe it was called 'Reflections'."

"Yeah." He took the crumpled and folded sheet out of his pocket.

"What was the scenario?"

"Joss' place. She invited me to talk about Taylor, but he was there."

"Taylor was there?" She inquired.

"No, I guess he was upstairs. I meant John."

She nodded. "What did you take from their concerns about Taylor?"

"That they knew stuff I didn't, and I knew stuff they didn't. And it was my fault 'cause it's always my fault."

She tried to give him perspective. "Unless you're the leader of R.U.M.M. or someone who practices FGM, it's not all your fault. But back to the issue of information, it seems there was miscommunication on both sides. What do you think caused that?"

"Taylor doesn't tell me everything. Guess it felt good to know something they didn't." She made a note. "And he asked me not to say anything."

"How did that feel?"

He sipped more water. "Good. Better. 'Cause he's my son. Mine."

"Let's consider John knows Taylor is your son, what role does he play in your relationship?"

"He's in the way." Paul said, off-the-cuff. "I don't need some white man telling me about my son."

The awkward silence that followed was its own punishment, because Susan was white – Czech-American to be precise – and he didn't seem to mind telling her anything. "I didn't mean it like that."

Ironically, she'd had held and earlier family session with a former Marine who reacted badly to his daughter's fiancé being a 4th-generation Mexican-American. "What did you mean?"

"I mean; I don't need John showing me up, acting like he's better than me when he's not. And he'll never be Taylor's dad, I don't care if they launch a rocket to the moon together."

She was heartened by his passion for his son and confused by his current avoidance of the person he was so territorial over. "How can you express what you need from Joss and John?"

By knocking his block off. "I don't know."

"And Taylor?"

"Don't know that either."

She threw him a curve ball. "What would you like to say to your father?"

"Go to hell on a one-way ticket."

She knew he was serious. "Why?"

"'Cause there's nothing left to say."

"I'd like you to complete this worksheet again, and this time specifically about the next time you speak to Taylor."

"For next week?" He asked, feeling anxious about having a deadline he wouldn't keep to have a conversation he didn't want to have.

"For whenever you talk next."

Friday 4th November, 8.08pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst, Queens

Because they didn't work for a bespectacled billionaire, saving lives as The Machine dictated, Gina insisted on Paul taking her out for Date Night to get him out of the house and his moping. She knew he liked anything short so the mid-thigh-length Do-me-good-I'll-tell-you-anything-you-want-to-hear black dress with lace capped shoulders would have to do for the comedy club in Harlem where a post-divorce Chris Rock was known to frequent. The problem was, the Carter whose eyes popped out his head when he saw her wasn't the man she loved; it was his father.

About four shades darker, an inch shorter and a whopping 60 pounds heavier, Jeremy Carter greeted her with the enthusiasm of a sexagenarian who popped two Viagra pills with Coke. "Hot damn, he still knows how to pick 'em. You must be Gina. You know Regina means Queen, right?"

She couldn't believe Carter Sr was effectively kicking game at their doorstep. "Uhhh, Paul?"

He came downstairs with his shirt still unbuttoned. "What the-?" Even the striking arch in her back couldn't keep his attention because his father was there, sending him into an internal mental frenzy just by showing up unannounced.

Jeremy smiled. "You did good, son. Finally got you a real black woman."

Gina was confused because it was such a low blow against a woman she never had a problem with. "We're heading out. You look good, babe."

Jeremy cleared his throat. "That's cool. You'd be a fool to stay home, tonight. So just tell me where's my room and I'll entertain myself. Big ass house like this I know you got Watchflix." Paul looked at his girlfriend, making an odd request with his eyes. She didn't understand it fully but she knew he needed rescuing from this Voldemort figure who looked like a cuddly Black Santa Claus without the uniform.

"Come in, Jeremy. I'll make your bed before we leave."