A/N: Hi there, I'm back with a new chapter. This one's spanning three episodes: 1x23 "Firewall", 2x01 "The Contingency", and 2x02 "Bad Code", so there will be references to all of these. Direct quotes are marked as such. Please remember, this is an AU, and it will steer off canon here and there. Also, there will be a little bit of Careese. I hope you don't mind.
To Family and Friends
"You know, if you ever get fed up with saving the world, you'll always have a job here," Dr Al-Khalil teased his best friend while the two were rubbing down the horses that had been out for the afternoon therapy sessions.
"As what? A stable boy?" John snorted, grabbing a hoof to pick. "This one needs new shoes soon," he muttered and reached for the scraper.
"Well, you're great with the horses, I have to admit, but I really think you'd make a fine occupational therapist. I was impressed how you handled that situation earlier."
"I didn't do anything," the other man replied without looking up from his task.
The doctor shook his head. "We've been trying for a week to help that guy set foot in the stable without panicking. Took you about ten minutes. You're just a natural. People trust you."
John let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Until I let them down."
Ben caught his best friend's eyes over the back of the horse he was grooming, silently assessing how to respond to this unexpected outburst of self-loathing and guilt. Eventually he said very matter-of-factly: "We all let people down."
"But when I let people down, people die!" hissed John, suddenly on the verge of anger.
"Oh, get over yourself," Ben shot back, but without heat. "I'm a doctor, I could say the very same thing. Tell me, did you blame me for leaving you bleeding on that dirt road in Iraq?"
"You didn't leave me, you were taken!" John replied emphatically. "Those were circumstances beyond your control. You did what you could. Bought me enough time to survive."
"But I could have tried harder, could have fought them harder instead of letting them take me."
"That's ridiculous!" It was all John could do not to shout, because the last thing he needed was to startle the horse whose leg he was currently holding up.
"I know," his best friend said calmly. "Just as ridiculous as you blaming yourself for everyone you couldn't save, or help."
For a long moment, silence fell over the stable. Finally John averted his gaze, turned his attention back to the horse and, with a final critical glance at the hoof, slowly set its leg back down. He ran his hand along the side of its neck, savouring the silky feeling of the chestnut coat under his fingers before burying them in the soft mane. As if sensing his gloomy thoughts, the animal gently nudged John's upper arm, then carefully lowered its neck so its head came to rest on the tall man's shoulder. Ben thought that, to all intents and purposes, it looked like the horse was giving John a hug. His best friend seemed to feel it, too. Closing his eyes, he let his forehead rest against the magnificent animal's warm neck. "I know you're right," he sighed so softly that Ben could hardly make out the words. "Doesn't make it any easier, though."
*POI*POI*POI*POI*POI*
"... and then he just put a hand on the guy's shoulder and said, 'C'mon, I'll show you'. Next thing I know, the two of them were walking into the stable, as calmly as you please, getting the saddles. I swear, I have no idea how he figured out so quickly what it was that made the guy panic each and every time ... hey, are you listening at all?" Looking up from the kitchen counter where he was preparing the pancake batter for next morning's breakfast, Ben noticed that Hannah was staring out the kitchen window towards the dimly lit driveway.
"He probably noticed something in his body language," she replied absently, brow furrowing in confusion. "When on earth did John get a dog?"
A soft chime signalled an incoming text message on her mobile phone. Case gone FUBAR. Might be coming your way. Needs some TLC. Talk later. JC
Although that didn't answer Hannah's question about the dog, it most certainly explained the half-angry, half-desperate air exuding from her brother when he stepped through the door a few seconds later.
"I need to ask you a favour," he burst out.
"And a good evening to you, too," Ben remarked drily. "That is one nasty bruise there on your temple. Does the favour have anything to do with that?"
John shot him an impatient look and shook his head. "It's just a scratch," he tried to shrug it off, but Hannah was already steering him to a chair at the kitchen table.
"Take a load off. I'll get the first aid kit," she told him, but only leaving after she had gently squeezed his shoulder and dropped a kiss to the top of his head once he was seated.
"So, who's your new friend?" Ben asked, tilting his head towards the spot by the door that was now inhabited by sixty pounds of Belgian Malinois.
"That's the favour I need to ask of you," John explained, briefly wondering where the mug of coffee in his hands and the plate of chicken, rice and veggies in front of him had come from. "Can he stay here on the farm for a few days? I have this case ..."
The doctor studied the beautiful animal more closely. "Military dog? Looks a lot like the ones we had in our unit."
The former soldier nodded while chewing on a mouthful of the delicious meal. "Most likely," he confirmed once he had swallowed. "Name's Bear. Dutch commands only."
"Got it," Ben grinned.
"So, that case ..." Hannah had returned a few moments earlier and was now examining the laceration over John's eye.
Her brother dropped his fork and slumped in his chair. "Finch was kidnapped. We've only got one lead. If that doesn't pan out ..."
Both doctors were surprised by the man's raw honesty, and touched by the deep worry in his eyes. Hannah finished cleaning his head wound, covered it with a plaster, and pulled off her gloves. "You said 'we'," she remarked softly. "Is Joss on the case with you?"
John nodded. "Yeah." He downed the rest of his coffee and made to get to his feet.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Ben stopped him with a hand on his elbow.
"I've got things to do ... check out the lead ... give Joss something to work with ..."
"John, you're dead on your feet. There's no way I'm letting you drive home like this," his sister protested.
"Hannah," he started, the warning in his voice unmistakable, but she was already holding up a hand, forestalling any further argument.
"I have a few patients to check on before the night," she said. "Including the paperwork, I'll be another two hours. You go have a nap, and then I'll take you back to the city, so you can sleep some more in the car. All right?"
The rational part in John agreed that he urgently needed some downtime if he was hoping to crack the case. He also knew that it was no use arguing with Ben and Hannah when they were in doctor mode. "Two hours," he grumbled.
*POI*POI*POI*POI*POI*
Exactly two hours and fifteen minutes later, the siblings were headed back to New York City. John's letting Hannah drive without protest spoke volumes about the exhaustion he was feeling, but also about the trust he placed in his sister. Tired though he was, however, he was too wound up to sleep any more.
"If anyone can find Harold, it's you," Hannah reassured him quietly, sensing his distress.
"Maybe, but what if I'm too late?" The again went unspoken.
"Well, my brother would say that this isn't the time for what-ifs."
John turned to her and the small smile on her face made his lips turn up at the corners, too. "Thank you," he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the engine.
"You're not alone in this, you know," Hannah continued. "Joss really cares about you. Let her help."
"What makes you say that?" Suddenly frowning, John sat up a little.
"Oh, come on. Of course she cares about you. Or do you think any other upstanding police officer would put their career on the line to help two vigilantes who are forever manoeuvring in the grey areas of the law?" His sister sounded so matter-of-fact, it made John wonder what had transpired behind his back, or rather right under his nose.
"Have you been talking to Detective Carter?" he asked warily.
"I gave Joss my card to call me when the need arose. You know that, you were right there when I did. She called me, we met for coffee, we talked," Hannah explained as if she was talking about the weather.
They rode in silence for a few minutes before John asked quietly: "And you really think she cares about me?"
Hannah pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and handed it to her brother. "Go to my inbox," she told him. "Read the most recent text, and then tell me she doesn't care about you."
John was glad it was dark in the car, because he felt his face grow hot and his ears turn pink. "How did she know I was heading your way?" he wondered aloud, his voice just the tiniest bit rough.
Without replying, his sister just reached over and took his hand. The gentle squeeze and the lingering touch told him everything he needed to know, and posed a hundred new questions.
*POI*POI*POI*POI*POI*
"Hannah's in the ground, John. She's dead." Whatever reaction to her words Detective Carter had expected, this was not it. The former Special Forces soldier and ex-CIA operative sat down heavily on the bed, right next to her, and absently listened to her explanation.
It took her a few moments to realise something had changed when from the corner of her eyes she saw that John's hands were shaking. Startled, she looked over and noticed that he wasn't really listening anymore. The sudden anguish in his eyes told her that whatever was playing out in his mind had nothing to do with the case at hand. Putting two and two together she realised her words might have triggered something extremely painful.
Joss got up from the bed and knelt down in front of John. She took his trembling fingers into hers and, rubbing them slightly, called his name. "John? John, do you hear me? John?"
The man looked up, and it was a few seconds before she had the feeling he was completely back with her. "John. Take a deep breath. Come on. Now listen to me." She had never seen him so upset, so she just kept hold of his hands, applying gentle pressure to anchor him in the here and now. "She's not your Hannah, John. Your Hannah is at home, safe and sound. You know she is. You just saw her last night."
John shook his head, his breathing still a little laboured. "But it could have. It could have been her. She could have died. She ..."
Not knowing what else to do, Joss leaned forward and pulled the tall man into a hug. "She's all right. She's safe. She's safe."
*POI*POI*POI*POI*POI*
"So you got our friend with the glasses back, huh?"
Joss Carter smiled at her partner's brand of concern. "Yeah. We did."
They did indeed. It had taken John just five more minutes to pull himself together. Then he was off, with new determination to find Harold and pry him out of Root's clutches. If the police grapevine could be believed, the rescue had been spectacular (had she expected anything else?), but now her two favourite vigilantes were back safe and sound. No doubt they'd be back in business tomorrow.
"Buy you a drink?"
Her offer was met with Fusco's trademark humour. "Long as it don't have egg in it."
Boy, was it good to be back. Walking out of the precinct two steps behind Lionel, she fired off a text to the woman whose number was listed as DHS in her contacts: Mission accomplished. Go see him, he needs you. JC
A/N 2: Well, this chapter sort of took on a life of its own and got a little more Careesey than I had planned. Didn't think there was a secret shipper hiding away in my brain. Huh. – In any case, thanks for reading, and if you like, drop me a line! It would be much appreciated.