"How long has it been?" Kara asked, rubbing her neck. They'd been in the safe house overnight interrogating a suspect, but so far he hadn't been cooperative. He was now at this very moment blindfolded, and hanging by his arms tied to a beam in the next room. Reese looked at him through the glass; he was sweating, a grimace on his face. The position that he was in was causing him excruciating pain. Reese figured another few hours and his shoulder blades would finally snap out of place.

She wanted to know how long he'd been tied to the beam.

"Eight hours," he answered.

"Okay, take him down. We want to loosen him up, not kill him. Not yet at least."

He nodded, and fifteen minutes later, instead of hanging by his arms the suspect was seated, tied to a chair with his arms extended across a table in front of him. He was unable to move, and couldn't even strain against the tight bonds that held him.

The blindfold remained in place, so he was still unable to see his captors.

"Go on, Boy Scout. Time to get your hands dirty," Kara said.

She loved pushing his buttons. She loved seeing just how far she could go. She loved to watch him work. She loved to watch him inflict pain. After he softened someone up, after he did what he was trained to do, she would look at him with a gleam in her eye. Excitement would fill her, and later on when they went back to their hotel, she'd come to his room, and they'd find release in each other.

He walked into the room, knowing she was watching on the other side.

This was the part he was very good at, but it was the part he hated.

He asked no questions, spoke no words. He just prepared to do what he had to.

He walked up to the table, and took one of the suspect's fingers into his hand. Slowly and with great precision he began peeling his fingernail from its nail bed. There was deep moaning, a futile struggle, and the shrilling resonance of a piercing scream.

He blocked it out, he ignored the sounds. He pictured himself somewhere else. He momentary sent the 'boy scout' out of the room mentally and pretended he was someone else. It was the only way he'd be able to do something so inhumane.

He took on the darkness and its persona. He wasn't the naïve young idealistic boy who joined the army first, the Rangers, then the CIA. He was someone else. He was a machine, an animal, a killer even.

This is who he became.

Another nail gone, and he prepared to peel back another. How many had he removed? He lost count.

He looked down at the whimpering man beside him. For a split second he admired him. Admired his resilience. His determination to accept his fate whether that included survival or not. But he had to break him.

He prepared to remove the last nail from his left hand, when he saw the amber light flash on the wall near the mirror.

Kara was signaling him to stop. He left the room, blood on his hands and the killer left. He was mortified. He was ashamed of what he'd done. He couldn't let her see it. The expression on her face although fleeting did not go unnoticed by Kara. She looked at him shaking her head.

He walked to the end of the corridor heading for the bathroom. He cut on the hot water in the sink putting his hands under the stream. It was scalding hot but as he held his hands under he almost couldn't feel the heat. The smoke rose from the sink, indicating the intensity of temperature and though after a brief moment his hands were clean, he could still see the blood. He couldn't get it off no matter what he did.

"What the hell was that all about John? Did you choke up again?"

"Kara…."

"It's a shame really. You're getting so good at it. You actually do seem to love your work now. But this whole bit of remorse after…you need to lock it down. I told you we're not Boy Scouts here."

"Kara, enough!" He cut off the faucet and dried his hands.

"We are not like regular people John. We are the dark. And the sooner you realize that, the better."

Reese woke with a start. His hands were shaking, and he was sweating. He got up abruptly from the bed, and started pacing the floor of his loft.

We are the dark.

We are the dark.

….the sooner you realize that, the better.

We are the dark, John.

Kara's voice echoed through his mind and in his ears.

His sudden movement woke Carter, who was asleep next to him. She pulled back the covers, and walked over to him quickly, trying to get him to be still.

"Hey….hey what's going on?" she asked in a soothing voice, putting her arms around him. He kept moving for a bit, shirking her arms off of him. He felt as if he was being pulled into blackness, and he didn't want to drag her down with him.

"John, talk to me," she said, her voice firmer than before. He tried to steady his breathing, taking deep breaths to fill his lungs with air, and stopped pacing. He turned to her while running his fingers through his hair, and realized she was scared.

"I'm sorry. I just…had a nightmare is all."

"Are you sure?" she said, and he walked toward her.

"I'm sure." The nod he gave her was to reassure him as much as her. She hugged him then, and for a moment with her arms around his back, he forgot about the dream. He forgot about Kara, and he felt the blackness start to recede.

He was glad she was here, and he was glad she was in his arms right now. She had a way of making everything alright, of making him think he could be normal. A way of making it seem like his work with Kara didn't make him the horrible person he thought he was.

"Let's go back to bed," he said, and he lay with her wrapped so tightly in his arms, he hoped she didn't feel alarmed.

"What would I do without you Joss? You're my light."

She kissed him then, and he was able to sleep for the rest of the night.

He was acting normal, she thought. They got out of bed this morning, took a shower, and ate breakfast. And he was acting normal. He was pretending to be fine. But in the whole time she'd know John, and in the several weeks they'd been together, she knew when he was just pretending with her.

She sat at the dining table, reading the newspaper, and sipping some coffee while he was on the sofa watching the news. She glanced at him, wondering just what the dream was about last night. He didn't say, but he woke up in a panic last night, and it scared her.

He hadn't wanted her to touch him at first, and he pushed her away when she tried to comfort him. She didn't feel offended or put off by it. She knew he'd never push her away unless he had a good reason. She just wished he'd open up to her about whatever it was that had scared the hell out of him.

She knew it wasn't easy for him opening up. She knew while he was in the CIA he had to survive on his own with no family, no friends, just constant work, missions, and operations with his partner.

It took its toll she knew. Hell when she met him, she found him in the worst state of his life. She didn't want to see him return to that place. She wanted to be there for him.

She hoped soon he would allow her to be.

Reese sat watching the news, or at least he was pretending to. He fixed breakfast for Carter, they ate together, and he pretended that everything was fine. But she was no fool. He'd known that from the beginning. She was perceptive. It was one of the things he found attractive about her.

"Do you need some help?"

He remembered the question she asked him when they met at her precinct. She reached out to him, not knowing who he was what he'd done and it touched something in him. He had to know more about her.

His journey towards her led him here, to a place where they could be together. But he wondered now, how long it could last. How long till that darkness overcame him again? He wanted to hold onto her for as long as possible. He wanted to hold on to what they had for as long as possible.

They'd only been together for a few weeks, but being with her, and around her, felt like it was a normal part of his life. It came natural to him, like breathing. She was already a vital part of everything that concerned him. In a very short space of time, he'd come to need her, and it shocked him sometimes.

"I remember that place. My dad was from Florida. I haven't been there in years. He used to take us there, my sister and I whenever he visited our uncles…..I mean what kind of man takes his two young daughters to hang around alligators and swamps…..No one like my dad…." He heard her voice as she walked from the table over to where he sat on the sofa, but he hadn't heard a word he said.

"What?" he asked.

"You're not even watching that. You're sitting in your own world over here, pretending to watch TV so I won't worry about last night." She stood behind him resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Something happened last night?" he asked trying to make light of it, hoping she'd drop the topic.

"You know damn well something did." she said, bending down to rest her chin on his shoulder. "Why won't you talk to me about it?" she asked softly.

"Come here." he said, pulling her around to sit in his lap.

"You know that you can talk to me."

How could he tell her about the kind of man he was? Would she look at him differently?

"Was it about Jessica?"

"No…it wasn't." he was sure he noticed a look of relief on her face. "Joss…"

"Just tell me. I can take it…whatever it is."

She'd been a soldier. She'd seen war, but she hadn't seen what he had. Done the things he had.

"John…..if we're going to move forward, you're going to need to trust me. Talk to me."

"I was overseas…working with Kara. I was questioning a suspected terrorist. And it became….extreme…."

She nodded her head, understanding. "You were torturing him…." she said.

"Yes," he said nodding. "There was just so much blood. I couldn't get rid of it. And Kara was there, spurring me on. She was enjoying it, watching me work." He took a while to tell her the rest, to tell her how he felt. He watched for signs of disgust, looked for her to recoil, but she didn't. She listened to every detail with nothing but empathy on her face.

When he was done, she didn't speak. She moved to sit next to him, and leaned her head on his shoulder. She was waiting for him to be okay with revealing something that he wanted to forget, that he wanted to bury and revisit no more.

"I can't tell you that you won't still have those nightmares. I can't tell you that you're gonna forget that part of your life, cause it's not gonna happen. A soldier remembers every life he took, some more than others. He remembers all the horrible things he's seen and done. I have some bad memories of my own. But look John…..that's not who you are anymore. That's not who I see when I look at you. And I believe one day, you'll see that you're different too. I can't tell you when, or how you're gonna get there, but I'm here for you. Whenever you need me."

Her simple but profound words were enough. Nothing else needed to be said.

They both turned their attention back to the news, and he watched it, for real this time.

"Thank you." Carter shook hands with the real estate agent, and tucked the folder with information under her arm. Taylor gave her the side eye before they slipped into the car, and she pulled off.

"So…what'd you think?" A futile question really. She already knew the answer.

"I didn't like it, and neither did you, mom."

He was right. She didn't like the neighbourhood at all, and the layout of the house wasn't to her or Taylor's liking. It was too close to the trains. They'd be hearing the loud sound of it passing whenever they were home. Another house to scratch off their list.

She'd been to see about six places so far, some with Taylor, some by herself, but she'd had no luck. They were either out of her budget, or not what she was looking for. She was beginning to get frustrated with the whole process.

Maybe she should stop looking, at least for now.

"So are you going to the dance on Friday?"

He nodded his head.

"Who're you going with?"

He shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. She couldn't believe her baby was dating. He'd be 17 early next year, growing up so fast. She remembered their first awkward, and embarrassing conversation about sex, and going through puberty. Seemed almost like yesterday. And now her baby was dating. And he was being so tight lipped, not wanting to tell her anything. She decided not to press it now, but eventually she wanted to meet this girl.

"Speaking of dating…we might have company for dinner tomorrow night."

He turned his head, and she ignored the look she knew was on his face. "Who did you invite?" he asked.

"A friend.," she said nonchalantly.

"Same friend whose calls you have to take in your room all the time?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Sneaking around the house… taking calls in the room, excusing yourself from the dinner table…. giggles whenever you talk…..it's so evident."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, pretending not to be horrified at this very moment.

"It's alright mom. It's cool. I'm happy for you. Can't wait to meet him."

She smiled, and then chuckled before giving him a mock punch in the arm. Technically they'd met already, when John had rescued him, but that had been the end of it. Seeing how they'd relate over dinner was bound to be interesting.

Reese stood across the street from Carter's apartment, staring at the front door. He stared at the plant pot at the doorstep, with a bunch of deep purple New York asters beginning to bloom in the soil. There was a harvest wreath on the door, a rush of oranges, deep browns, a piece of yellow. A big old welcome mat was in front of the door. This was a home, no matter how modest or small, it was a home, and he wondered if he belonged here.

Was he trying to prove something to himself? he wondered. Was he trying to prove that he could fit in, that he could be a part of something bigger than himself?

He knew he loved her, he knew he needed her; he knew he needed her to be a part of his life. But he wondered sometimes if he could ever fully fit into hers.

She was a single mother; he knew that almost from the beginning. She took it seriously; she made sure that Taylor was raised well. He was a good kid. He was smart, intelligent, and he was a rising star at his school. His grades were nothing short of impeccable.

Mother and son had a good relationship, and except for a few times Taylor rebelled against curfews or shirked his chores around the house, they had no major fights or issues. To him, they were perfect, except there was the absence of a man in the house.

No father figure, no male presence, no male authority. Was he eventually going to have to fill that role? If he planned for things between them to be long term, he guessed he would one day have to. Was he good enough though? That was the question.

He hadn't had the best example of how to be a good father.

Family dinners weren't supposed to be like this, young John thought, as he sat at the dinner table with his family.

He'd been over to his friend James' house a few times, and realized that dinners weren't supposed to be like this. James' mother had set the table nicely. The shiny silverware, clean glasses, and heaping plates had proven otherwise.

But besides an abundance of food, an endless flow of drinks, and a serving of homemade apple pie, topped with your choice of whipped cream or ice cream - he chose the ice cream of course - the conversation, laughter, and overall love in the room at that table, showed him how real families should act at dinner time.

James had rolled his eyes as his father made the rounds, asking everyone to share one or two sentences about their day. His friend was a little embarrassed, shook his head at the comments about his sister Julie's horrible experience being caught up in a food fight in the school cafeteria at lunch time, but John had enjoyed the flow of conversation, the closeness, and overall love he felt between the family for those brief moments. It made him realize what he didn't have at home.

Sure their home was clean, immaculate even. He never saw a spot of dust, never a thing out of place. Everything had to be perfect. Everything, and everyone.

He and his twin sister Morgan lived in blissful ignorance until they got to their mid teens. By then, they started noticing things. And once they did, they realized nothing at all was normal in their house.

Their father was a drunk who hid it rather well. He was a functioning one, who went to work every day dressed in his suit, garnering respect from everyone at the office. In the evenings he came home to his stay at home wife, where he abused her, verbally, and physically. John began to notice the bruises that were hidden better to the eyes of children, and now he saw the black eyes and busted lips that had previously gone unnoticed.

He and Morgan sat through dinners where they were afraid to speak a word, while their mother's fork shook in her trembling hands. Their father would sit at the table and look at all of them with contempt, while he nursed glass after glass of whiskey.

When had the drinking started? John never knew. But he knew after his father lashed out one night, and threw his sister against a wall he'd had enough. Her skull had fractured so badly she fell to the ground unconscious, and he knew he'd had enough.

He reacted without thinking, and attacked his father. Blow after blow he struck, until his father lay cowering at his feet on the ground. He was ashamed of himself, horrified by what he did. But oddly he felt liberated from the fear he'd been living in for years.

His sister had died. She hadn't survived two days. He was lost without her. She was the only light in the darkness that was their home. She was so young, so beautiful, and the only person he'd been able to identify with. She was the only person who he felt really loved him unconditionally. He'd been so devastated; he moved out of his parents' house months later, and didn't return.

A few years later his father had killed himself. He put a handgun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger, but not before taking his wife's life too. A sad ending for a sad life.

For a long time John felt nothing. He was numb to the pain. He remembered his sister, and felt the overwhelming urge to see her again. Morgan, even after all the time that had passed, he still missed her so much that he ached.

Now he was alone in the world, no family, no home, nothing. He needed a purpose. So he stood across the street from the military recruiting office, and stared at the front door.

He needed a new path, needed a fresh start. And with nothing else holding him back, he decided to walk in.

The family dinner had gone well, better than expected. The fears he had about fitting in, belonging there, were erased. He felt silly now, really. Silly for letting his insecurities get to him.

The meal was great, Carter turned out to be a really good cook. He ended up asking for a second helping just like Taylor had. Carter shook her head at the both of them, but happily obliged, and laughed, watching them devour the food with gusto. After dinner, there was dessert, a rich red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting that she picked up from Two Cake Ladies, a small family owned bakery a few blocks from her place. He had two servings of that as well, and after something to drink, he felt like he couldn't move. Another hour watching TV together in the living room, and he felt very happy that he came.

He sat with Carter on the couch after Taylor went to his room, her feet were in his lap, and he gazed down at the pink colour on her toes. She was smiling at him and playfully hit him on the arm.

"Ow. What was that for?"

"You did well. You were here for what? Three hours so far and you haven't slit your wrists or your throat. You actually made it. I'm so proud."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," he said, feigning ignorance. But she knew him so well, she probably guessed at his apprehension of the concept of a family dinner, let alone one that he had to sit through.

"You know exactly what I mean," she said. "I know it's only been a few weeks, maybe it was too soon, but….I wanted you to meet him."

"Come here," he said, pulling her by the arm. She leaned forward, and he slid his hand around her waist. "You smell good," he said, before kissing her briefly. "Thanks for inviting me. You have a wonderful boy," he kissed her again, and she came closer, this time putting her arms around his neck.

"Thank you."

"He's lucky to have you," he said in between pressing kisses on her mouth.

"So are you," she said, grinning.

"What are those?" he asked, noticing some brochures out of the corner of his eye. He leaned over, and picked them up off the coffee table. There were recent housing developments, a distressed properties listing from a bank, and other info packets for mortgage rates.

"Moving somewhere?"

She nodded her head. "I've been thinking about it, yeah. I've checked out a few places, but…..so far nothing. I just wanted to see if I could find something with more space, more room for me and Taylor. Something…better."

He looked around. Yes her place was small, but it was cozy. It felt like a home more than many of the places he'd been in. He couldn't picture her somewhere else, but obviously she could, and it was important to her.

"So you'll just keep looking. You'll find something. Don't worry."

She settled into his arms then, and they spent a couple more hours talking. She told him about Thanksgiving dinner next week, her sister and her kids coming in from out of town, and her crazy decision to allow them all to stay at her place. He loved hearing her worrying about the place being too small, but he sensed her excitement about seeing them again after so long.

He loved the little nuances about her personality. Her habit of flicking her nails, biting her bottom lip when she was thinking of something. He loved the wrinkle that formed between her brows whenever she was upset about something. He loved the way she was with family, her mother and her son. He loved the dynamic between them.

She was everything he wished his mother was when she was alive. Strong, independent, and a darling. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to being in a loving environment for long.

He'd only been with Jessica for a six short months, and he left her after 9/11, breaking her heart. There were his insecurities again creeping up. He shook them off, and held onto her tightly as she hugged him goodbye on her front steps.

He feasted on her mouth before letting her go. Tasting her sweetness, wishing right now that Taylor wasn't home, and that he didn't have to leave for the night. He slid his tongue over hers, and felt her naughty hands as they slid over him through his pants. He was sure she could feel how hard he was getting. He lamented not being able to bury himself to the hilt inside her. He groaned at her hands on him.

"You don't play fair, Detective."

"Just a little something to remember me by. We'll be together soon, I promise. Taylor has a dance and sleepover tomorrow night. We just need to decide on the place."

"I can't wait," he said.

"Neither can I."

She finally let him go, and went back inside. But he felt her eyes on him watching from her bedroom window until he disappeared down the street.

Thanksgiving.

The day was finally here, and at her mother's house, there was not a moment of silence to be had. Taylor and his cousins were outside in the backyard having their own football game until the real one came on TV. Her uncle Hank and his wife were in the den, along with her 67 year old aunt Camille watching a movie, and she, along with her mother and sister, were just about finished the endless task of cooking.

Cakes and pies lined the counter tops, along with a whole lot of side dishes to be had with the two turkeys, two hams, imported Grouper filets that Donna's husband sent as a gift. She still couldn't believe Donna travelled all the way with the damn cooler, and of course chicken, because uncle Hank always had to have chicken with everything.

When they finally gathered at the table, she looked around and was glad to see every face, every smile, and everybody talking, digging into the food, and just having a wonderful time in each other's company.

Everyone ate like it was no tomorrow. Donna's boys had grown big, tall, and had athletic bodies. They were much taller than her. She couldn't believe the last time she saw them both, they barely reached her shoulder. She watched as they along with Taylor devoured plate after plate, and wondered where the hell they put it all.

She'd been exhausted at the end of it. After a day and a half of preparation she was looking forward to resting tomorrow on her last day off from work. She was in the backyard on her mom's porch sitting with her sister while everyone else was gathered in front of the TV in the den watching the game.

They spent the time catching up with each other. There was the inevitable question about a possible man in her life. She'd given in and told her sister that yes in fact, she was seeing someone but when pressed for details, she wouldn't give any. She did admit that Taylor had met him, and from what he described, Donna seemed to accept that he was alright.

She'd asked John if he wanted to come. He seemed to consider the invitation when she gave it, but she had a strong feeling he wouldn't show. She didn't push the issue. She wanted him to be comfortable. Coming to her house for an intimate dinner with her and Taylor was one thing, coming to her mom's place with a bunch of extended family, was quite another.

She did wonder where he was, though. She hadn't spoken to him all day. Not one peep. He hadn't returned any of her calls. She hoped his absence was because he was busy with work, and he wasn't simply avoiding her.

Reese was crouched down on the ground, scratching Bear behind the ears as he ate his food.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Bear," he said, before he stood up. He walked towards Finch who was focused on his computer monitor as usual.

"What are your plans for the evening, Mr. Reese?" he asked without looking up.

"I don't have any, Finch. You don't have a secret family somewhere that you plan to meet up with later, do you?" he asked, sarcastically.

"My Thanksgiving dinners ended with Grace, Mr. Reese. I was with her for every one of them while we were together." Finch got up reaching for his coat. "Right now we'd be in front of the television watching 'An affair to Remember'. It was one of her favourites. It was our tradition, for four wonderful years." The smile that was on his face as he spoke of them started to fade, and Reese was reminded of the loss both of them dealt with every day. Finch had lost Grace, and he had lost Jessica.

He thought of Carter's invitation to pass by her mother's house. She'd given him the address days ago, and he'd honestly considered dropping by. As the day got closer and closer though, he realized more and more how much he couldn't do it.

He was able to have dinner with her and Taylor, but he was terrified of accepting her invitation to Thanksgiving dinner.

He'd had only a brief experience of what a happy family gathering looked like all those years ago at his friend James' house. It had been years since he'd been around that.

As soon as the day came, something changed in the air around him. He couldn't explain it, but he was plagued by Kara's voice in his mind over and over again.

We're not like other people John. We are the dark.

"I'm sorry Harold," he said, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Let me buy you a drink."

"No thanks, Mr. Reese. I think I'll just go home. Good night."

He watched as Finch put his scarf around his neck, ready for the New York cold, and left. He spent a few extra minutes with Bear before leaving himself.

He couldn't go.

He shouldn't go.

He didn't belong there.

He didn't know how to begin to belong there.

His feet took him to the doors of a familiar bar that he frequented. He sat at the front, and ordered his usual. He downed a few drinks, and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was Carter, and this was the third time that she'd called.

He couldn't answer her before because he didn't want to deal with the question again.

And he didn't want to have to tell her no, or hear her voice fill with disappointment when he did.

"I'm sorry, Joss," he said, as he watched the call go to voicemail.