"You wanna tell me what this is?"

"Looks like a piece of paper to me." He replied, his gaze moving from the letter in her hand to her face then back. He was stalling and he knew it.

"Phillip James Ward, don't play games with me. It's a letter from the bank. Do you know what it says?"

She called him by his full name. That was it. She was really mad. He stood up from where he sat on the edge of the bed in their room looking at his wife. Normally she had the temperament of an angel. And the face of one too. Her hair was black as night, her beautiful round doe eyes a beautiful brown, and she had the sweetest, fullest mouth; all you wanted to do was kiss it. Yes she was a beauty. But she also had brains. She was no dummy and though the curves of her thighs and bottom were what admittedly attracted him to her initially, he was glad she had enough knowledge in her head to carry on a good conversation too.

Right now she was flaming mad and rightly so he knew. He'd hoped to intercept the letter she held in her hand before she'd seen it. He'd been successful in doing it with the previous three that had been sent. He sighed, knowing that this conversation was inevitable. He just wished he had more time.

"Well…."'

"It says that this is our third notice, Phillip. Our third notice. Are they about to foreclose our home?" He saw the tears forming in her eyes and wanted to kick himself. The last thing he wanted to do was worry her and now she was starting to panic.

"They won't. I plan to talk to the bank manager on Monday. I got an appointment with him."

"Why didn't you tell me anything? What's been going on? What…what about the kids?"

"Evelyn, now calm down….." he said trying to soothe her.

"If you'd told me I could have done something."

"Like what Evelyn?"

"I don't know, Phillip…..something." She said and started to pace the room. "I could have asked my par…"

"Don't even suggest that." He said interrupting her.

She knew how he felt about asking her parents for money. They never believed he was good enough in the first place. The last thing he wanted to do was prove them right. They were very vocal about their disapproval of him. He hadn't come from the right neighbourhood. He hadn't gone to the right schools. He hadn't done the right 'anything' as far as they were concerned.

The Petersons never felt he was able to take care of their youngest daughter. But Evelyn thought differently and he felt like the luckiest man in the world when she accepted his marriage proposal. He told her he didn't want her to work, wanted her to be a stay at home mother. He told her he wanted to take care of her for as long as he lived and she finally agreed.

Things had been rough for the past few months though, work had been slow and he'd missed a few payments. He didn't know how it happened, but it had been almost eight months and now it looked like the bank was about to take their home. He knew he couldn't let it happen. He had a wife and two kids to provide for and take care of. He swore to be their provider and he had to live up to that. He was going to speak to the bank manager on Monday and hoped that he could convince him to give him just a little more time, arrange something, erase the bad debt.

"I'm sorry Evie. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I wanted to take care of it on my own."

"You can't do it on your own. We're in this marriage together remember. You have to trust me." He watched as tears started to slide down her cheeks. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips.

"I do. You know I do."

"But Phillip…."

"Don't you worry Evie. I'll take care of it. We're gonna be okay, baby."

From the corner of her eye Evelyn spotted her youngest daughter standing at the door.

"Jocelyn…come here baby." She noticed her face was wet.

"What's the matter baby, why are you crying?"

"Are you and daddy mad at each other?"

"Aw, no baby." She wiped at her tears. "We just had a disagreement. But we're okay. We're gonna be just fine."

Valentine's Day. It was Valentine's Day.

She never paid much attention to it before, especially since she hadn't had a real relationship in ages, but now Carter viewed it with disdain instead of indifference. She looked around the precinct, and it looked like the colour red had vomited all over the office. She didn't remember this amount of bouquets and fruit baskets last year. Something must be in the air, she thought.

She stared at the crystal jasmine next to her monitor. It was still on her desk, and every time she looked at it, she thought of John, remembered why he sent it. Looking at it today just made things worse. She took it off the desk, and put it the bottom drawer next to her files. She couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

She packed up her things and left work, intending to go home, but decided against it. She couldn't stand the emptiness that was waiting for her. Taylor was at a Valentine's Day dance, and that meant she'd be home alone, again, left to her thoughts, wondering just what the hell went wrong.

It's all she thought about. The last conversation she and John had about them. That morning it all ended. That morning everything changed. She pretended she was alright, but she wasn't. But what else could she do? She had a child to raise, and she had a job to do. She couldn't fall apart. She didn't have the time to. At least not publicly, anyway.

Not that she hadn't shed tears. There were many. At one point she felt they'd never stop. She never let Taylor see them, or her mother. But in the dark, late at night, sometimes her cheeks were stained with tears as she tried to fall asleep. She'd wake up, eyes puffy, and go to work the next morning like nothing happened.

It had taken a while to break the news to Taylor. She told him almost a month after. He came into her room one night asking where John was. Why hadn't he come around anymore for dinner? What had happened to him? She had to tell him that things hadn't worked out, that they had decided to go their separate ways.

He questioned why. She had no real answers to give him. She was trying so hard to understand it herself, and she hated herself for introducing them to each other. She hated the fact that her son had grown attached to John. She hated that he'd gotten used to him coming around, or that he was able to call him when he needed help with something. She hated that Taylor had grown accustomed to having him in his life. She hated herself, because now he was gone, and her son was being affected. There were slight changes in his behaviour after a while. His tone when he spoke to her was coarse. He spoke to her in short sentences, and he started to clam up. They used to enjoy each other's company, now he seemed to avoid her like the plague.

Christmas came. and he seemed to turn around. Dinner at grandma's house, the presence of his cousins, and uncles, seemed to lift his spirits. The new phone, and video game console she got for him might have had a little something to do with it and she was happy to finally see him smiling again.

At least someone was.

John's absence was glaring. She looked at the faces of family members eating at the dinner table, everyone smiling and laughing, and she couldn't take it. She excused herself, going into her mom's bathroom, and spent twenty minutes on the cold tiled floor with a towel shoved into her mouth to muffle the sobs that had overtaken her. The tears flowed endlessly, and she couldn't stop them. She missed him. She missed him no matter how brief their relationship was.

It was a new year she thought, as January rolled around. She watched the ball drop on TV in her living room at midnight, while Taylor was out with friends. Ryan Seacrest was sending out New Year wishes, Auld Lang Syne played in the background while the camera panned to various faces in the crowd as people kissed each other to bring in the holiday. She sipped on some red wine, drinking glass after glass, until a full bottle was gone. Afterwards, she shut herself up in her room, and went to sleep. But she woke up later that morning, and decided she was done being depressed, and she was done crying. She needed to move on with her life.

She wasn't shedding anymore tears. She couldn't.

By mid January though, Taylor had started acting up again. Just when she thought things were getting better, they took a turn for the worse. He was even more withdrawn. He didn't want to do the things they did together anymore, he spent more and more time in his room. And for the past two weeks he'd started breaking curfew. It seemed her child was spinning out of control.

She'd had enough, and asked him what was wrong, demanding answers.

"Taylor what's going on? This isn't you. You're not the same person. You're rude, you've been short with me, and you're not coming home when you're supposed to. Is something going on at school? Talk to me."

"It's nothing."

"I know that's not true Taylor. We need to talk about what it is. Come on. This is you and me, remember? We do things together, Taylor we always talked things out. Why won't you talk to me?"

"I just wonder what happened, mom."

"What do you mean?" she asked reaching out for his hand, but he moved it quickly.

"What'd you do?"

She was confused about what he was accusing her of.

"To John…..what happened? What'd you do?"

The look on his face felt like a punch in the gut. She felt tears start to sting her eyes. Tears of anger that he thought somehow it had to be her fault, but tears because she realized he'd been processing the separation in his head for so long he was trying to come up with answers on his own. Finally, when he couldn't come up with anything else, he started blaming her. He was hurting more than she had known.

"You know what? Forget it." He set off in the direction of his room, and she followed.

"Taylor, there's nothing that I did to….there's nothing that I could have said to change what happened."

He went into his room, and locked the door behind him. Her knocks on the door went unanswered. So did her words. She didn't know what to do.

"Taylor…baby, open the door." He didn't come out of his room for the rest of the evening.

Finch had chosen that very night to call her for assistance. Only this time, he needed her to help John. John, who she hadn't seen or heard from since the break up. John, who had practically disappeared off the face of the earth. She refused, she told him no, but after pleading, and insisting that she had to help, she agreed.

She ended up in a bit of a shoot out, trying to save him from drug dealers who'd had him tied up. She didn't care about the details of how he'd gotten that way, and she coldly dismissed Finch's words of gratitude when he called her afterwards.

John's captors had gotten away, and she helped him out of his restraints. There was an extremely awkward silence between them. And she felt her heart physically ache at the sight of him. There was so much she wanted to say. She wanted to ask where the hell he'd been. She wanted to know if he missed her the way she missed him. She wanted to know why it had been so easy for him to forget her. Had he? But she said nothing as they both stood staring at each other.

"Thank you," he saidm but she didn't respond. She remembered being in his arms. Images of his mouth on hers flashed into her mind, him kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear while he moved inside her. It had been a while, but her body remembered him well, still desired him. She was angry, disgusted with herself.

She walked away.

"How's Taylor?"

She turned round to face him again. "You are going to stand therem and ask about my son?" She let out a brief laugh. "….my son who you never even said goodbye to? My son who wondered how come you disappeared without a word…and because he can't find any other reason, just tonight he blamed it on me." She was so close to him and his scent mingled with his cologne was strong in her nose. She felt something pass through her and stepped back. "Taylor's fine."

She had to go. "Next time you need help, I suggest you call Fusco," she said, over her shoulder. She heard him in the back of her, his steps sounding on the floor.

"I never meant to hurt you, Joss….."

"What you did, outweighs whatever it is that you meant to do. But it's my fault really. Taylor's right. If I'd have just let you take me home that night, none of this would have happened. We wouldn't have ended up at your apartment…"

"Don't….."

"…we wouldn't have made…..love….and this…..."

Carter felt her hardened shell begin to crack, she felt herself getting weak. But his face was already a mask of stone. As conflicted as she knew he was, hoped he was, she wondered if he still felt the same about her. He started to walk away, and was almost out the door when she felt the words leave her mouth. They stopped him in his tracks.

"You never would have told me you loved me."

"I probably wouldn't have, no," he answered, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Do you still….love me?" She knew she was taking a risk just saying it out loud. She held just the slightest glimmer of hope, when she asked the question. She watched as he turned his head, and knew he was going to leave. With her head bowed down, she knew she was about to cry, and she was glad he was going.

In an instant, she was swept up in his arms, and he was kissing her with such passion, and desire, it literally took her breath away. For just a moment, he sucked at her lips hungrily, seeking not only to comfort her, but to find comfort for himself. His tongue found hers, they slid across each other, and a deep moan escaped her throat. She felt alive again, and the numbness she felt for so long disappeared as she held onto him as tightly as she could.

But just as quickly as he claimed her mouth, he pulled away again.

"No…." she whispered brokenly. She grabbed at his coat, trying to hold on, trying to keep him there.

"Goodbye, Joss," he whispered against her mouth, and quickly left the room. She followed him into the street, calling his name, but he was nowhere to be found.

She hated him after that encounter. She hated him so much, she wanted to hurt him, strike back at him for walking away. It seemed so easy for him, while she was the one left to pick up the pieces. She felt heartbroken. She felt rejected once again, and she felt all alone.

It was cold outside in the city. It hadn't snowed this week, but there was a biting chill in the air. She wrapped her scarf around her neck, and put her gloves on, hoping to keep the cold away. A different kind of chill had wrapped itself around her, and she hadn't been able to shake it. She felt herself becoming bitter, resentful, and she was still angry.

John had all but disappeared. he and Finch still needed her help like they always did, but now Finch was the one she spoke with, and met whenever something was needed. Whenever the unknown number showed up on her phone, it was Finch's voice she heard on the other line.

She still didn't want to go home, she thought. She hailed a cab and gave him the address of a bar and jazz club she hadn't been to in a while. The place wasn't too crowded yet and she sat at the bar waiting to be served.

The bartender walked over, and smiled at her. He was tall, his smooth skin the colour of dark mahogany, and he had a toothy smile that was extremely infectious. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Happy Valentine's Day. What can I get you?"

"Rum and coke for starters," she said, and took a sip soon as he brought it over. "There's a band here tonight right?" she asked him.

"Yeah. Trixie is playing. They should start around 8," he said, while mixing a drink for another patron.

She nodded her head, and listened to what was playing on their stereo. It was a nice tune by Nina Simone; Sinnerman.

She closed her eyes, listening to the lyrics, and let herself get lost in the music. For a minute, she stopped thinking about John, and she was finally able to relax.

His hands were shaking. He'd broken into a cold sweat, and he felt blinded, literally seeing spots in front of his eyes.

"John talk to me. What's wrong?" Carter was kneeling at his side, her voice urgent as she sensed his pain. She'd gotten used to his nightmares, and she had her hands on his shoulders.

"I can't do this…..I can't do this anymore."

"What are you talking about?" He slowly got to his feet. "Morgan….." he murmured his sister's name.

"John…"

Carter was right in front of him, but he kept seeing his sister. He needed to focus. "I couldn't save her…."

"John you're not making any sense."

"I can't do this anymore." His voice was low and rough. She was shocked, taken aback, and he hated the look on her face as she finally realized what he meant. "Your things are in the bathroom, your….toothbrush….they're in my closet…every time I look around….there are parts of you….here. I feel like I'm suffocating."

"John….."

"You want me to be a father to your son, be a part of your family….for fuck's sake you wanted me to have….Thanksgiving dinner. What are you trying to do Carter?!"

He called her last time with condescension in his voice, and he could see it stung her.

"This isn't about my things being at your place. This isn't about a damn toothbrush. Something else is going on that you won't tell me about."

"No. it's about who I am, and who I will never be. This is a mistake. It's been a big mistake, and it never should have happened."

"You don't mean that. You're just too much of a coward to say what it really is. You just want to take the easy way out."

"I'm telling you I can't be the family man you're looking for. I can't be a father to Taylor. I'm not…that's not who I am. I can't be that. And this is over."

He remembered just the night before, him begging her to stay. She had, and now he knew she was regretting it.

"You don't mean that." She was shaking her head, as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I don't believe you. You're just scared. You're used to being alone, and now that you're not, you're scared because….look we can take things slow, we can slow them down if you need to. Let me help you. Don't do this, John."

"Its over, Carter."

"You told me you loved me, John," she said, pushing him. He stumbled backwards, caught off guard. "You told me you loved me." She pushed him again. "What changed huh? Tell me!" She pushed him yet again, until he was backed up against the closet wall. "Tell me…." she whispered, brokenly.

"I do love you, Carter. But I don't want this. I can't. Do. This. Not anymore. Not with you."

"What do I tell Taylor?" she asked, and every tear he saw her shed, was like a lash across his back. She was in pain, and he wanted to hold her, he wanted to comfort her. He reached out to touch her, but she pushed his hand away.

"Tell him I'm sorry."

"What do I tell myself?" When he couldn't answer her, she turned away, finally, and he watched her get dressed. She gathered her things from the bathroom, and his closet, and put them in an old gym bag she'd left there a few weeks ago. She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, and opened the door to leave.

"Wait. Your ball gown. What do you want to do with it?"

"Throw it away, sell it….I don't care. It's not really mine anyway, I didn't pay for it." The hurt in her voice cut him like a knife. She closed the door behind her, and he felt like an open wound that someone had just sprinkled salt on.

What had he just done?

What he had to, he thought. What would happen, eventually. He ended it. But he felt no better after he'd done it. He still felt the blackness swirling around him. Still heard Kara's voice echoing in his ears. Still loved Joss with his whole heart.

He looked outside the window, and saw that the snow was coming down, and he realized she wasn't wearing a coat. She must be freezing right now. He kicked her out; told her to pack her things, and literally kicked her out in the New York winter.

He felt like a bastard of the worst kind.

As the bartender had said, Trixie came on to play at 8PM, about forty five minutes after Carter arrived. They'd been playing for an hour now, and she was enjoying the collection of songs they performed; mostly upbeat tunes, and there were a lot of couples there now who'd taken to the small dance floor in front. She was thankful they hadn't switched to any slow dances, or love ballads just yet. She didn't need the reminder that she didn't seem to know a thing when it came to love.

She was on her third drink, thinking it'd probably be her last, when she felt the faintest tap on her shoulder.

"Detective?" She turned around coming face to face with the attorney she'd questioned about the office shooting. There he was, standing tall in his expensive suit staring down at her. He looked incredibly attractive tonight. She couldn't for the life of her remember his name, though.

What was it?

"Martin Thompson; from Banks, McKinney, and Thompson. Do you remember me?" He held out his hand for a shake, and she took it after a moment.

"Mr. Thompson, right. Nice to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual, believe me. I must say this is the absolute highlight of my day."

"Is it?" She asked, sipping on her drink, and watched as he sat next to her.

"It most definitely is. Happy Valentine's Day," He said, and she nodded without smiling or returning the sentiment.

"Oh. Doesn't seem like your Valentine is all that happy. Are you alone tonight?" he looked around as if he was expecting someone to join her any minute.

"As it turns out I am, Mr. Thompson," she said.

"Please, I insist you call me Martin."

She wasn't home, Reese thought. He knew for a fact that she got off work a little before 7PM, but she hadn't gone home. He was sitting across the street from her apartment building, waiting for her to show up. He wondered where she was.

He hadn't spoken to her since last month, when she'd saved his life. She'd gotten him out of harm's way, and he was grateful for the assist.

She was so beautiful, he had thought. Time had done nothing to fade how he still felt about her, and standing so close to her after being separated from her for so long, had been torture. She stood there asking him if he still loved her.

How could he not?

He gave into his feelings for her, and impulsively kissed her, an action he paid for dearly later on. He wandered back to his apartment with his cock so hard he could barely walk. He stumbled into his closet where her ball gown hung up next to his suits. He touched the fabric, inhaling it, breathing it in. The scent of jasmine had grown fainter and fainter over the last few weeks, but it was still there. He could almost imagine her right there with him, if he closed his eyes tightly enough. He missed the touch of her skin; he missed plunging himself deep inside her. He missed the moans that he would elicit from her mouth, the way her fingers would dig into his back.

He missed her.

He unzipped his pants, and stroked himself on the floor, his body tense as he moved his hand up and down his wet cock. He thought about her nipples, hard under his tongue, the soft bud between her thighs, her scent as he ran his tongue over her folds. Up and down he stroked, over and over until his hand was covered in his own come.

"Joss….Joss…."

He'd sat there for a while later, calling her name softly; missing her, and needing her so badly, he ached.

He knew he'd been a fool to let her go. But in the long run, he felt he was doing her a favour. He knew it was just a matter of time before he'd end up ruining everything, ruining her life and Taylor's.

Knowing that, believing that, hadn't made it easier.

So even though he broke things off, he followed her, he watched her, he listened to her conversations sometimes. The sound of her voice put him to sleep at night, even if she was just talking to Fusco at the precinct, even listening to her watch TV gave him comfort.

The holidays came and went, and he couldn't help wishing that he could be with her. A few times he dialed her number, but he could never bring himself to let the call go through. The gift he'd gone out and bought her for Christmas, lay in its box on a shelf in the closet. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't stare at it and wonder how her face would light up when she opened it. But he knew otherwise. She was still angry and she'd never forgive him.

So why was he here, on Valentine's Day, no less, waiting for her to come home? He didn't know if he'd even speak to her if he saw her.

He sat there waiting until another hour had passed, when a car pulled up just in front of the door. He saw Carter get out, along with a man who walked her to the door. They spoke briefly, and he saw him slip Carter his business card before she went inside.

He wasn't aware she was seeing someone. She wasn't, he thought. He'd been watching her; he'd never seen this guy before. Not even once. So who was he? And where did he come from?

He wrote down the licence plate number of the car as it pulled off, and he reached over the passenger seat picking up what he'd brought with him. He stood on the sidewalk a little while longer before walking quietly up her steps.

His fist was up, so close to the door, all he had to do was knock. He let it drop though, before resting what he brought at the front door, and leaving. He started the engine, and pulled off, dialing a cell number.

He waited impatiently while it rang, once, twice, three times….

"Zoe Morgan." Her voice on the other end of the phone sounded good. It was just what he needed right now.

"Zoe, its John."

"John. It's been a long time." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Too long," he said.

"How can I help you, John?"

"Well its Valentine's Day, and I thought I'd buy you a drink."

"You did, did you?"

"Mmm hmm….why don't we meet?"