All of You – Chapter 1

When Joss shuts herself away from the world after a harrowing case, it's Reese who brings her back, but what happens when he realizes that he wants all of her?

This tale had two inspirations: a recent article where TPH noted that she has bad days, just like everybody else, and when she does, "I'mma gonna drink my wine, I'mma eat my Cheetos", and eight beautiful gifs that sgrg92 created to John Legend's All of You that illustrate how John feels about Joss. Three chapters and I'll be posting every Sunday. Always Careese:

"Go…away."

"Can't do that, Carter." Reese replied, as he smoothly picked the lock on her front door.

"I'm…" there was a pause, as if she was trying to find the right word, "siccccccccccck," the word slowly spooled out of her mouth. "You don't wanna…catch…it."

"CIA gave me all the shots," he said half-jokingly, as he slipped inside. "Can't catch anything."

Reese took a deep breath as he strode into the dark, smelly and dank living room and gazed at the lump of dirty clothes and tangled hair that used to be Jocelyn Carter.

Empty wine bottles, soiled napkins and days old half eaten takeout containers were strewn all over the coffee table, a love seat and the couch, while crumpled and torn junk food wrappers swirled around the hardwood floor like transparent, crinkly sounding tumbleweeds.

The television was on, but a snippet of music repeating itself over and over in an endless loop indicated whatever Joss had been watching – even though Reese knew she'd really hadn't been watching anything - had finished some time ago.

"Nah," she opened one bleary eye, "you're such a…pain…'n the ass...nuttin'…" there was another, longer pause, as blinking slowly, Joss tried to focus on him, "not even…germs…" she giggled, then her voice caught in a sob, "wanna…be around ya."

"I get that a lot." Reese turned off the television, swung a duffle bag off his shoulder and lowered it to the trash heaped floor. He flicked on all the lamps, flooding the room in a harsh, stark light, then turned to look at her, as Joss, shielding her eyes, shrank back against the couch.

"You're not sick, Carter," he said in a low, firm voice. "You're dirty, drunk and covered in," he raised an eyebrow, "Cheeto dust, but you're not sick."

Striding into the kitchen, Reese placed the large tote bag that he was carrying on the counter and turned the oven on. He then headed to her pristine, untouched bedroom, pulled out some clothes from the closet and the dresser and laid them on the bed. Walking into the master bath, Reese turned the shower on.

When he went back into the living room, Joss was sitting up, staring at the mess around her, as though she was seeing it for the first time.

He helped Joss to her feet, aching to put his arms around her and simply hold her, but Reese knew that wasn't what she needed. "Get cleaned up, Detective," he said in that low, firm voice. "I'll make you something to eat."

Joss nodded slowly, her big brown eyes filling with tears as she gazed up at him. "It was bad, John," she whispered, "really...bad."

And it had been.

Even Reese with all of the terrible things that he had seen, and done, had blanched at the carnage.

The case was so bad, that Joss' Captain, a man who had the awareness and sensitivity of a block of wood, had ordered her to take two weeks off.

Joss had shipped Taylor off to his father's, had a mountain of cheap booze and bad food delivered to her brownstone, smashed her phone to bits and then sank into a morass of sadness, rage, grief and despair over all of the terrible things that human beings can do to each other.

XXX

Five days earlier:

Finch simply nodded when Reese told him that he wouldn't be available for a while. "Ms. Shaw and I will handle things, Mr. Reese."

The tiny operative gave Reese a firm nod.

Reese nodded at them both. As he turned to leave, the reclusive billionaire handed him a small device. "Detective Carter's brownstone still has the wiring from an old landline, John."

"Thank you," Reese said quietly. With another nod and a pat on Bear's head, he strode out of the Library.

Fusco swore in several languages and vehemently shook his head when Reese told him not to try to contact Joss. Stabbing a thick finger in Reese's broad chest, the burly detective snarled, "Where do you get off tellin' me what to do about Carter? She's my partner!"

Reese didn't blink or back away. "I know, Lionel, but you can't help her."

Fusco swore and blustered some more, but eventually, as Reese knew he would, he stepped back and nodded slowly. "I know," Fusco said softly, "I know." Lowering his head, he turned and shuffled away.

When Reese went to talk to a frantic and frightened Taylor, it was Paul Carter, his arms folded, who stepped out on the porch.

While the two men had never met, Reese knew that Paul was aware that he and Taylor had formed a warm friendship after the kidnapping, but as the other man glared at him, Reese knew whatever Paul had to say had more to do with his relationship with Joss, than it did with his son.

Standing on the walkway, Reese casually took his hands out of his pockets, and widened his stance, as Paul charged down the steps.

"What exactly are you to Joss?"

"A friend."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "She's never mentioned you to me."

Reese couldn't help the soft smile that stole across his lips. "I bet there's a lot of things Joss doesn't talk to you about, Paul."

Paul chuckled mirthlessly. "Is that right?"

"That's right," Reese nodded.

"Well, maybe, I need to find out why, especially since you're hanging out with our son," Paul unclipped his keys from his belt. "And while I'm there, I'll deal with whatever's goin' on with Joss."

He tried to brush past Reese, but in a flash, Reese snatched the keys out of the other man's hand, broke apart the keychain and scattered all of the keys into some thick shrubs. "Can't let you do that, Paul."

Reese knew that underneath his jealousy, Paul meant well, but if Joss' ex-husband blundered in there, the same man who had disappeared for years without a trace before he finally got help, and tried to 'fix' what was going on with his former wife, she would explode.

Things would be said that couldn't be taken back, that they wouldn't be able to come back from.

Reese knew that Joss, Taylor and Paul had all worked hard to become a family again. Paul was now an active parent in his son's life, and he and Joss were making slow, steady progress in not only being parenting partners, but also in becoming friends.

Being the asshole, Reese thought, was a small price to pay to keep them together.

With a roar of outrage, Paul swung at Reese, who neatly stepped aside, as Taylor, hearing the commotion, stepped out on the porch, his mouth hanging open, stunned at what he was seeing.

Paul swung again and again, but each time, Reese easily evaded his blows, which outraged him even more.

"SHE'S MY WIFE!" Paul shouted as he lunged at Reese.

Reese spun him around, wrapping one arm around the other man's neck, while with his free hand, he jerked back the thumb on Paul's dominant hand, immobilizing him.

Paul twisted and flailed about, but Reese held him fast.

"Dad! Dad! Stop! STOP!" Taylor cried, as he jumped down the stairs.

At the sound of his son's voice, Reese felt the man sag against him.

"She hasn't been your wife for a very long time," Reese said softly, as he let Paul go.

Paul turned to look at Reese with a raw, searing guilt and a deep, unfathomable loss in his eyes. He stumbled past his son and sat down heavily on the porch stairs.

Taylor stepped forward. "Ma's okay?"

"She will be, T," Reese assured him.

"It's just…" Taylor took another step forward, "I've never seen her…" his eyes filled with tears, "like that, John."

"I know, and I know that you want to help her, but your mother needs…time."

Blinking back his tears, Taylor nodded slowly. "You'll take care of her."

"Always."

Reese started to turn away, but then the teen reached out and grabbed him in a tight hug.

And as Reese put his arms around the young man that he had come to care for as if he was his own, he saw the anger and jealousy ebbing out of Paul Carter as the man watched the two of them together, and Reese knew that the father would be there for his son.

Paul nodded at Reese; Reese nodded back.

"I got this," Taylor said softly. Squaring his shoulders in a way so like his mother, he stepped back from Reese.

Turning around, Taylor went and stood next to his father.

Paul rose to his feet, and with their arms around each other, father and son walked slowly up the porch stairs.

Reese watched them disappear inside and then he walked away.

XXX

Slipping around the back of Joss' brownstone, Reese found the wiring that Finch had mentioned, and attached the small device.

He sat in an unheated vehicle on her street, blinking back his own tears as he listened to Joss curse, rage, wail, throw things, laugh hysterically, babble and pray.

He'd text Taylor, and Fusco, and Finch and Shaw, assuring them every night that Joss was alright.

He knew she needed it, that all of the years of being strong and brave, of being there for everybody else had totally drained her.

She needed this time for herself, to mourn not just those who were slaughtered in that horrific crime, but to also mourn all of the losses in her life.

Finally, at the end of the fifth day, Joss fell into that silent heap on the couch.

Swiftly, Reese went to his loft, showered, shaved and changed, prepared some food, packed a bag and drove back to her place.

But now it was time, Reese knew, as he gazed down at her, for Joss to come back.

"I know, Joss," he said, his voice softening. "And I know," he smoothed back a lock of her hair, "that you had to let those feelings go through you, but Taylor and -" Reese paused, catching himself, "the world needs you back."

'And I', he said the unspoken words to himself, 'I need you back, Joss.'

She nodded again, and shuffled off to her bedroom.

Stepping back into the kitchen, Reese pulled out a container of soup, dough that had been shaped into rolls and a large tossed salad. He heated the soup, put the dough in the oven and brewed a huge pot of coffee.

Reese then went back into the living room and cleaned up all the mess there, listening as a retching Joss emptied her stomach of all the crap she eaten and drunk, then he heard her lurch into the shower. He listened to her muffled curses as she fought with her tangled hair, and a small smile ghosted across his lips when he heard the slamming of closet doors and dresser drawers, knowing that Joss had rejected the items he'd selected for her to wear, and made her own choices instead.

When Joss finally emerged from her bedroom, she still looked tired and drawn, but her eyes were clear, and her steps were sure and even.

Reese pulled out a dining room chair. "Have a seat."

She sat down, her eyes widening at the array of food that Reese brought to the table.

"All this?" she asked skeptically.

"All this, Carter," he answered firmly.

"Mmmm…" she sipped a bit of the soup. "This is good. You made it?"

Reese nodded.

"The bread? And the dressing? You even put herbs in the butter?"

Reese nodded again. "Dessert's in the oven, for later."

Her eyes widened even more, but then she bent her head down and began to eat.

After she'd finished eating, Reese went to the coat closet and pulled out her jacket. "Time for a walk, Carter."

"John…" Sighing, Joss shook her head, but she rose to her feet.

As they stepped outside, Joss blinked at the fading light and stumbled slightly on the stairs.

Reese touched her hand. "Hold on to me, Joss."

Their eyes met and held, and then Joss carefully tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

With a soft smile, Reese squeezed her hand with his other one, and then they went down the stairs and off into the darkness.

A/N: Chapter 2 will be posted next Sunday.