A/N: This is for Bklyngrl who gets a kick out of Evelyn's full name and inspired the chapter title.

In the words of Bob Dylan, "Times they are a changin'".

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 54: Magnolia

Saturday 10th December, 2.25pm, Lucky's Diner, New York

It had been years since they met at that diner and he gave her a black duffel bag of firearms for her – and his – protection, but today all they had to exchange were their troubles. Although John usually didn't eat in the field, the scent of Joss' buttery pancakes and sausage made him break his edict a little with a steak sandwich. The frown lines in her head were a small indicator of the conflict in her mind. After taking down HR 3 years prior, Joss had given up any chance of a promotion; others has surely broken the Blue Code, but Carter had obliterated it with a off-the-books career-suicide mission that could have taken their lives. John listened to her recount of Capt. Noguerra's offer – a Sergeant position to be confirmed by the end of January 2017 – and how it would affect Fusco; her partner and friend, and the only one she felt she could trust in the entire NYPD. From the dead doe to the Summerville surprise engagement-wedding fiasco to the failed intervention with Evelyn; John had taken enough Ls in 2016 to realise he couldn't fix things for his wife, even if he wanted to.

The pros of taking the position were obvious on paper; more money, more power and a shiny new badge. But the idea of not working with Fusco made her anxious, almost as anxious as letting an opportunity go by. Joss still didn't trust Noguerra as far as she could throw him and knew the offer came with strings attached, invisible strings. "I don't get what his angle is." She explained as best as she could. "Is he trying to rein me or something? I just don't know."

Those blue eyes shone with empathy. "If it wasn't coming from him, would you want it?"

"The promotion? Yeah. I mean, I worked for it and I don't have to worry about Taylor's school anymore." He was looking at her like that again; knowingly, and she didn't like it. "What?"

"You talked about Noguerra, you talked about Fusco, you talked about Taylor; but what about you?" He asked, making her feel guilty because her husband wasn't her first, second or third thought. "I'm okay with whatever you decide. Put yourself first. And if Fusco gives you any trouble, he'll be hearing from me."

John sounded eerily like her father when went of one of his rants about 'standing alone' and 'trusting her gut'. Josiah had revisited her in the form of a man who'd sullied the uniform as much as her father had honoured it and her decision was clear, telling her partner of 5 years wasn't. "Enough about me. What'd you find out about the good doctor?" She asked, since his shifts and hers often overlapped and he was still committing medical fraud on a daily basis.

He didn't want to overload her, especially with Christmas coming, all eyes on her at work, and Evelyn on her mind. "She's in trouble and she needs help."

Joss knew there was more to the story than he was telling but her phone was vibrating and her partner needed her. "If you need my help, John, call me." It wasn't a suggestion, but he treated it as one.

3.21pm, The Respect Recreational Center, Crown Heights, Brooklyn

Evelyn was frustrated. Between coming up empty in her big fishing trip for information at Janelle's salon, and the encouragement from Gregory that the apology she was waiting for would feel better coming from her than to her, it had been a terrible week. And it was about to get worse; worse than Gregory's beginner's Piano class. The +803 area code on her phone came from Cece's house, but the voice on the other end of their line belonged to the last person she wanted to hear from.

"Magnolia." Camellia greeted, using the middle name she hated with a sickly-sweet tone as only an elder sister could do. "How've you all been?"

"Fine, Cammie. You?" Gregory instinctively headed to the vending machine when he heard her name.

"Wonderful. You know I was just talking to Carolyn and Junior and they said you all made plans and the funny thing is; no-one asked me." Evelyn rolled her eyes as the same voice that used to snitch on her, get her in trouble and make her miserable in general was about to railroad her Christmas plans. "So since Rosie's joining the boys at Aspen for Christmas – you know she loves showing off – and Tullie's taking care of Jane after that nasty fall – broken wrist or something – Hamilton and I would love to spend Christmas in the Big City. It's been too long."

Evelyn sighed and asked God what she'd done to deserve this. "When are you coming?"

"The 23rd and we're flying."

She was mad – Madea mad – but she couldn't stop it. "We'll send a car."

"Fabulous." Cammie replied, because she was leading 1-0 in the Battle of Christmas '16. "And Maggie, I'm watching my sugar so try not to be so heavy-handed with that coconut cake. Think of the waistline. Toodles." Evelyn didn't get a chance to ask whose waistline because the last time she checked Cammie was in the double digits and she wore a size 9 with some effort and a little hope, because Cammie hung up first. 2-0.

7.13pm, Finch's Townhouse, Carnegie Hill, New York

John wasn't used to seeing Harold without a collar, and the dark green cashmere sweater and grey slacks were a giveaway sign his casual attire was linked to a pregnant PR specialist. The weekly suppers at the French restaurant had progressed to theatre trips and, that evening, a concert. "I always felt Suzanne Vega's lyricism was underappreciated at the time. Square or octagonal?" Finch asked, opening an accessory box that contained half a million dollars in watches. "I don't want to be overdressed.

"Then skip the watch." John advised. "Dr Lockett's an iron woman. Doesn't give away as much as a hometown even after 3 drinks – which is her max by the way."

"I see. She has good reason to be a loner. Born in Glenview, Illinois in 1977. Her mother died at age 6. She was raised by her grandfather who died of stomach cancer in 1996 – she was 19. She has specialised in oncology since 2008." Finch rattled off trivia as he sprayed his soft brown suede shoes.

John had heard that information before. "Vanessa Lockett's killing her patient through medical malfeasance."

"Or, she's trying to cure cancer." Finch speculated.

"By creating it?"

"By creating the conditions for cancer to grow. Something like the Machine if you replace cancer with crime. Perhaps Dr Lockett thinks she's doing mankind a great service, and there, Mr. Reese, is your in." Finch admired his appearance in the mirror and adjusted his glasses.

John laughed. "You think I should appeal to her better nature?"

"I think you have more in common than you think. And surely you've picked up some advance questioning techniques from the soon-to-be Sergeant Carter…Nichols…Reese."

John didn't appreciate his listening in on their somewhat-private-in-public conversation. "What does the Machine say about that?"

"On arrival? 72% probability of her taking the promotion. On departure? 67%."

John knew she was going to take it the moment the word 'offer' came from her lips; what he didn't know was how the appointment was going to affect things. It was clear a shift was on its way and that was something he couldn't control. "Great." He said with uncertainty.