The drink with Zoe seemed like a good idea at the time when he made the call, but after waiting for her to arrive, and spending time with her after she came, Reese had only succeeded in finding a temporary distraction. Even now in the dark as he lay beside her, he still thought of the one woman he couldn't forget.
Zoe was good company. and the playful banter between them was as natural and easy as it always had been. They'd had two drinks and gone back to her place where they went straight to her bedroom. They both knew why he was there and there was no need to pretend otherwise. She undressed in front of him, slowly, seductively and though he appreciated her body, the small curves of her breasts and hips, he saw one woman in front of his eyes.
He got out of his clothes and she knelt before him rubbing her hands over his erection. He closed his eyes and tangled his hands in her hair pretending it was someone else's lips wrapped around his cock. Later he drove himself home inside her, but it was just a release of a physical need. There was no connection, no warmth; no real satisfaction after it was done. He didn't reach for her or cuddle afterwards. He didn't want to and neither did she. They both just simply went to sleep, at least she had. He lay there afterwards wondering what another woman was doing. Had she found what he left on the porch yet? What did she think of them?
Memories of the two of them played over and over in his mind. Things he'd never done or experienced with anyone else. There was such intimacy in the little things they did. The simple things, to him, were not simple at all. Everything about her was so profound.
He stood watching her one day as she was changing the bedding in her room. He watched as she secured the pillow protectors over the pillows before she slipped on the cases, how she smoothed the edges of the flat sheet.
"Don't just stand there, John. Grab that end and smooth it down for me," she said, as she put the comforter over the bed to finish it all. He'd happily obliged, with a silly smile on his face.
He recalled another time he'd surprised her with red velvet cupcakes from her favourite place Two Cake Ladies. He watched as she peeled back the cupcake holder and took a bite of the rich dessert. He loved the way her eyes closed when she did. He loved the 'mmm' sound that she made, and the smile as she nodded her head when it went down.
"This right here, John…there's nothing like this. Thanks so much, baby." She dipped one of her fingers in the frosting, and made him lick it off. Then he'd planted kisses on her neck, while she took another bite. That had been a good day, and an even better night.
He couldn't remember the bad days with her. Either he had selective memory or they hadn't had any at all.
He chatted with Zoe over a cup of coffee the next morning, and left a few short minutes later. He went home to shower and change, and stared at Carter's dress in the closet again before he headed to the library to meet with Finch. Another day, another number.
Carter sat in her living room in her terry cloth robe sipping some coffee. It was early in the morning, and the sun was just coming up. She turned her head sharply in the direction of the front door after she heard a loud thud. It was probably the morning paper boy. She got up sliding her feet into her fuzzy bedroom slippers, and walked to the door.
She was right, it was the morning paper boy, but there was also a bouquet of about two dozen red roses, wrapped up in cellophane. She looked around for signs of who might have put them there, but she didn't have to think too hard about who they were from.
She gathered them up in her hands and grabbed the paper. She took the flowers into the kitchen and put them on the counter, looking for a tall vase to put them in. She found one, and filled it with some water before unwrapping the beautiful flowers. Their colour was so rich and vibrant. They were absolutely beautiful. She found a small card inside and a small note;
H.V.D. ~ Happy Valentine's Day.
She recognized the handwriting, and shook her head as she put the flowers in the vase one by one. It was amazing she thought, that he could be so thoughtful, do something like this and yet still manage to push her away every time.
She didn't know whether to thank him or tell him to leave her alone.
She took the bouquet with her, and put it on the coffee table in the living room. She sat on the couch drinking the rest of her coffee, and stared at it; thinking of the man who sent it, and then of the man who'd brought her home last night.
"I had a wonderful time bumping into you tonight." Martin said as they pulled up to her place. "Let me get your door for you," he said, and came round to open the passenger door. They walked up the few steps to her apartment, and she turned to him to say good night.
"I mean it Jocelyn. I'd really like to get to know you. Let me take you to dinner."
"Martin, how can I put this? I'm not ready for anything serious right now, and I'm not looking for anything casual either, just putting that out there."
He laughed just then.
"I understand. What you need right now, is more of a friend than a lover. Someone to talk to, someone to kick back with."
"I guess you could say that."
"I'm in no rush. I have no problems taking it slow. Let me take you to dinner. No strings attached, I promise." He handed her his card. "Call me."
She finally nodded, taking the card from him. "I will."
"Alright. Goodnight, Jocelyn."
"Goodnight, Martin."
She honestly did have a good time with him. Their conversation had been easy. He was great to talk to and most importantly he made her laugh. That was something she hadn't been able to do in a long time, even at Christmas. Originally she'd written him off as an arrogant, self absorbed jerk, but he'd proven her wrong.
She wasn't interested in any serious relationship right now, though. Things with John were still complicated. After not seeing her for a month, he decides to send roses she thought. And not just any rose. He sent red roses which signified love and passion, the two things he seemed most afraid of experiencing.
She was tired. She was tired of trying to figure out what he was feeling or thinking. She was tired of trying to communicate with him, when he was only giving her crumbs.
She was tired, and she'd had enough of it.
Reese walked up the stairs of the library and was greeted excitedly by Bear. He walked over to Finch and handed him a box of doughnuts, before giving one to Bear.
"Good morning, Harold," he said, fishing a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to Finch.
Finch looked at the seven digits on the paper, and looked up at Reese. "What's this?"
"A licence plate number, Finch."
"And just who does it belong to, Mr. Reese?"
"That's what I want you to find out."
This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't be happening, Carter thought as she dialed the number on Martin Thompson's business card.
She stared at the huge bouquet of pink tulips sitting on her desk shaking her head. But she also had a smile on her face.
She wondered whatever happened to 'taking it slow', and asked him the same question when he finally came on the phone.
"Well if I was rushing you, they'd be red roses instead of tulips. Besides, it's to compensate for the rocky start of your Valentine's Day, and just a little something to let you know I was thinking of you."
"Well thank you. They are beautiful, Martin."
"Any further thoughts on dinner?" she had thought about it, but she hadn't decided yet.
"Not just yet, Martin, but thanks so much for the flowers." Her cell phone rang; Unknown Number.
"Um, Martin, I'm sorry, something just came up. I have to call you back." She picked up her cell answering it. It was Finch on the other line. He needed some quick information, and she gave it to him.
"Finch, any idea where our mutual friend is? I need to talk to him."
Carter sat in Lyric Café spinning her coffee cup around in her hand. The beverage was quickly getting cold. She was waiting for Reese to show up. She'd called him and asked him to meet her there. This little tiny café was their usual meeting spot. They met to trade information, have a cup of coffee, maybe a brief meal. Sometimes they even managed to share a little something about themselves. And that's how their friendship began; brief moments, hot or cold beverages and a funny story or two. But those small things had added up over time and eventually ended up taking them back to his apartment on that fateful night.
It seemed like a distant memory now, and she found herself feeling unusually nervous to meet the man she'd grown to feel so comfortable around. She looked up at the door as someone entered, it wasn't him.
"You seem to like cold coffee, Carter." She heard the familiar voice in the back of her and he slowly came round to sit down at the table. It was déjà vu all over again. Flashback to their first meeting after he was shot; he arrived, in a nice suit, and a smile on his face because he admired her persistence in finally tracking him down.
Now, as she looked at him, he appeared tired, stressed, and she was a little worried. The suit was in place, as was his usual serious demeanor, but something was off.
"Old habits die hard I guess," she said, with a shrug.
"You wanted to see me?"
"I did. I wanted to ask you about the flowers, the roses." She saw him about to put the wall up and knew she had to get him quickly before she lost him again. "And I want you to not run away this time."
"Are you sure they were from me?" he asked, bitterly. "I mean they might have come from a certain attorney friend of yours.
She shook her head. She smiled, not feeling the least bit surprised that he had found out about Martin. She smiled too, because she realized he was jealous. He was jealous of something that didn't even exist.
"You know you can't do that, John. You can't have it both ways. You can't push me away every time you see me, and then have a problem if someone else shows an interest."
"How long have you been seeing him?" It was almost as if he hadn't heard her.
"I'm not going to even answer that. I came to talk to you about the roses. Why'd you send them?"
"How long, Carter?"
"Are you even listening to yourself? The roses, John."
"It was Valentine's Day. The flowers seemed like a good idea at the time."
"You didn't think of delivering them in person maybe?"
"He's from a nice upper middle class family in Atlanta, he went to Georgetown, and he just made partner at his law firm a few years ago. He seems like a good guy through and through. Straight shooter, I can't find a single thing wrong with him. He's perfect for you."
"Unlike yourself right?" Her response hit him hard, she could tell. He couldn't meet her gaze anymore, and he started fidgeting with the napkin in front of him. "I never asked you to be perfect. I know what you did, I know who you are. I never ran from it. You're the one who pushed me away."
She wished he knew how unnecessary it was to compare himself to Martin. They were as different in personality, looks, mentality, as they were in skin colour. Yes, Martin was her version of normal, her version of safe, and on paper he was the perfect man. None of that mattered really, she thought.
"Do you remember when were outside the Drakes' house waiting for Mrs. Drake's hit man to show up? We talked about moving on and you asked me if I was ready. And then at the charity benefit, you said you thought of me. You said if the right woman came along, you'd be open to moving on yourself. But, either you're not open or….I'm just not the right woman."
"There are things about me, my past, that you wouldn't understand."
"Then tell me. It can't be worse than what you did in the CIA. It can't be worse than what happened with Jessica and her husband. I'm not afraid of you. You're afraid of yourself."
She just needed to know one thing.
"What do you want, John?"
"What do I want? Carter, you're the one who asked me here."
"What do you want, John? Do you want me? Do you want us to make this work? Because sending me roses won't do it. Kissing me, and then running away won't do it. Being jealous, and following me around won't do it. Just tell me what you want." She reached across the table, and held his hands in her own. He looked at her, and the internal struggle that was going on inside him was so evident in his eyes. But she couldn't make it easy for him. It was hard on her too.
"Tell me now, John. Or stay out of my life….for good."
A thousand emotions were playing on his face. She would have given anything for him to give voice to them. She wanted him to say anything, just one word to indicate that she wasn't alone, that he was in it with her.
Just one word.
But he remained silent.
She slowly withdrew her hands and put both of them in her lap. This was really the end. He sat there with her, both of them staring out the window. She fought the urge to cry, telling herself that she wouldn't shed another tear over this man. This man who she still loved so much. This man who still held her heart. She wouldn't do it.
He was the first to get up. But before he left, he placed his hand on her cheek and kissed the top of her head.
One more kiss goodbye.
He was suffocating. He was literally suffocating without her.
He couldn't remember spending so much time in his closet before. He seemed to find himself sitting in there for long periods of time now. It was odd. It made no sense, he knew. But looking at her dress, touching it, smelling it, gave him a way to feel close to her again. He could almost imagine touching her again.
He sat on the floor with the fabric in his hands, holding it close.
So many things were his fault, so many things. But he had no idea how to fix them. He didn't know what the first step was.
She'd given him another opportunity to try again, and he'd been paralyzed with fear; again. Now he was about to lose her forever.
He had nobody to blame but himself.
"A second call in one day. I feel deeply honoured." Martin's smooth drawl was in her ear on the other line. She went straight back to the precinct from the diner and dialed his number.
"You should feel honoured. I called to accept your dinner invitation."
She heard the smile in his voice as he suggested Saturday night. "As it turns out I'm off on Saturday. That would be just fine.
The first date with Martin had gone well. He was attentive, humorous, and very charming. He was a complete gentleman, and as promised he didn't push her.
They ended up spending a lot of her free time together. They'd gone to plays, movies, dinners, and even took a day trip to D.C. one weekend. That had been fun. They went to the Memorial Wall, the Lincoln monument, and passed by the White House. It had been ages since she'd been to the Smithsonian, and she was glad to find that he was a fellow art enthusiast.
Before she knew it, a whole month had passed by, and she was extremely comfortable around him. She enjoyed his company, and she'd really come to care for him. She liked the fact that he was easy to be around, that he knew what he wanted and that he was willing to wait for her to be ready.
She'd just come home from a date with him and he walked her up to her doorstep. This was always the part that she hated. She knew he wanted to be invited in. She knew although he had been patient, he wanted more. But she still wasn't ready for him to come inside. Not just yet. She turned to him on the steps and he got that look in his eye which meant he knew the night was over.
"I had a really great evening, Martin. I don't know how you manage to surprise me with something different every time."
"How about you return the favour, Jocelyn," he said, sliding his hand around her waist, and pulling her close. "How about you surprise me with something different this time?"
He stared down on her and the look in his eyes was almost a dare for her to make a move. She liked him, she really did. She was attracted to him, and it had been a long time since she'd been held this close.
She put her arm around his neck, and tilted her head up to kiss him. His kiss was sweet, soft, and gentle. He kissed her with care, running his fingers along her neck, and she relaxed a little in his arms enjoying the kiss.
"Now that…..was a welcome surprise," he said, releasing her lips finally. "Goodnight Jocelyn." She turned and watched as he walked back to his car, then went inside. She leaned against the door for a moment, not quite believing what just happened. She touched her fingers to her mouth and felt silly as tears stung her eyes.
"John…"
She kissed him.
She kissed him.
Reese watched as Thompson walked her to her front door, slid his arms around Carter's waist and she kissed him. It tore his heart up. He had to hold himself back from walking up to them and beating Thompson to shreds, to hell with kneecaps. One bullet to the head would be enough.
It was his fault. He kept thinking over and over, it was his fault. And he knew that was the truth.
She told him to stay out of her life. And he had. At least he'd visibly stayed out of it. He stopped calling her and their face to face meetings came to an abrupt end. But although she never saw him, he was still there. He was always there. He followed her almost every day, sometimes at night. He still took care of the numbers, but at the end of every day, he made sure he'd seen her or listened to her voice at least once.
He watched as Thompson slowly became a part of her life. They'd spent a lot of time together over the last month. But judging from the way he always simply walked her to her door, he knew they'd never slept together. He drew some comfort and relief from it. He couldn't imagine her with anyone else, not after they'd been together. He didn't want to.
But that night she'd finally kissed him.
He stalked off in anger, and called Zoe.
They ended up meeting again and he spent another night driving himself deep inside her, trying his best to bury the feelings that were tormenting him. No thrust was enough; no kiss or touch could make him forget. All he could see was Carter.
She seemed to be haunting him now. She was in his dreams at night and before his eyes every day.
The kiss had been almost three weeks ago, but for him it was just as if it had happened yesterday.
She was moving on. He'd really lost her this time and there was nothing he could do anymore.
He was at a bar starting his second bottle of beer when she called him one night. He wasn't sure he was seeing right when he looked at the caller ID on his phone. But it was her. She was distraught, she was upset and there was panic in her voice. She couldn't find Taylor and she needed his help. It was well after midnight, he wasn't answering his cell, and he had yet to come home.
He didn't think twice, and reassured her that he would find him and bring him back.
He called Finch, and asked him to track Taylor's phone. A half hour later, he found him just a few blocks from his school. He was at an old children's playground and he sat with his shoulders slumped on one of the swing sets.
Reese looked around making sure nobody else was about and walked up to him. He saw the look of surprise, then confusion on Taylor's face as he realized who he was, but he said nothing. Reese sat down next to him, his long legs stretched out in the sand underneath their feet.
He sat down next to him and waited till he was ready to talk.
"What are you doing here?" he finally asked.
"Your mother sent me."
"She must be freaking out right now," he said.
"She is."
Taylor kicked at the dirt under his feet, and Reese watched as it scattered under the boy's frustration.
"You want to talk about it?"
"Something's just off. I can't seem to wrap my head around some things."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't remember my dad that much. I was only five years old when he died. All I have are pictures and stories my mom told me about him. But it's not the same. Not the same as him actually being there. Mom and I have been on our own for so long, having a man in the house didn't matter. At least she never seemed interested in anyone so…..I figured it was never an option."
Reese sighed because he knew what was coming next.
"…..and you came along and…you don't miss what you never had you know. I never really missed my dad because I didn't know him, he wasn't there. But you were there. At dinnertime and hanging out with my mom and then the retreat….I thought…I thought you cared about my mom…..I thought you cared…about…..m…..about her…."
"I do care about your mother. I care very much about her. I care about you too. I care about what happens to you both."
"But you just disappeared. With no explanation."
"I don't….Taylor I have no idea how to be a…." He took a deep breath and tried to continue. "I hope someday you can forgive me for that. But just because I'm not there, it doesn't mean that I care about you any less, or your mother for that matter. I hurt her. I hurt her in a really bad way and I'll be lucky if one day she can forgive me too, but I have to tell you that none of this is her fault."
"But….."
"None of this is her fault, Taylor. You understand me?"
He reached out and put his hand on Taylor's shoulder. "Look at me. She's your mother. Regardless of whoever comes and goes in your life, she's your mother and she's always going to be there. It's time to stop blaming her for what happened between us. You know better than that. It's time, for you to focus on what's important, your family, your school work and your future. I don't want to hear about you doing something like this again. This isn't you."
Taylor nodded his head as Reese patted him on the shoulder.
"So if she wasn't the one who left, then it was you. You were the one who walked away." It wasn't a question, just a simple statement. Reese didn't answer; he felt he didn't need to.
"Was your father around when you were my age?"
"Taylor, honestly having a man in the house is overrated. Yes my father was around, but he was a total stranger to me. I can honestly say he was present, but as for who he really was as a person….I never knew him."
"Well despite having a very bad example of how a father should relate to his son, you're actually not too bad at it. You don't think it's a coincidence do you that you're the one she calls every time something goes wrong?"
They pulled up to Carter's apartment a half hour later and neither of them rushed to get out.
"Thanks for coming to get me, John."
"Anytime." He said and he meant it. "Just….under different circumstances."
Taylor laughed. "Yeah. I'm probably gonna be grounded for a month. If…..she doesn't kill me first."
"Which do you think would be worse?"
They both laughed then and Reese opened his car door. "Come on, time to face the music."
The storm that Taylor was expecting, didn't come. Carter was so happy to see him, to know that he was alright and not hurt somewhere, she could only hug him and tell him that she loved him. She did however promise there would be further discussion in the morning.
"I'm sorry mom."
"It's okay." She said. "I'm just glad you're alright."
Reese watched as they embraced and sensed the tight bond between them. For a moment he thought back to his childhood and dinners at his friend James' house. It felt the same and he felt glad to be around them right then.
Taylor eventually went to his room and he and Carter were left alone together in the hallway.
The look she had on her face mirrored the same one she had when he brought Taylor back after he'd been kidnapped by Elias' men. He saw relief, gratitude, but he also saw the tiniest trace of fear on her face. Fear over what could have happened to her son if he hadn't been found. She had to be strong for them both, she always had to hold it together alone.
After telling him to stay out of her life, she had still come to him to ask for help. Despite how bad things were between them, she knew he'd help her without question. Taylor was home now, but he could tell she needed something else. She needed some reassurance that she would be okay, that she wasn't about to lose her son.
He knew he couldn't fail her again. Not this time.
"Come here." He said and gathered her in his arms. He wrapped her up in his embrace tightly and she put her arms around his waist and back grabbing onto him. He felt her finally begin to let go and he waited as she cried softly and released all the emotion she'd been holding on to for so long.
He stroked her hair, ran his hands up and down her back and he just stood with her and held her. He comforted her as best as he could.
"Its okay, Joss." He whispered. "It's okay." He tilted her chin up and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "You're a good mother. You know that. You're a very good mother." He took her over to the sofa and he sat with her cradled in his arms for a little while longer.
"Thank you, John." She said finally and sat up against the back of the chair. His arms felt so empty without her. "Thank you for bringing him back to me. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found him."
She hugged him goodbye that night and when he walked down the steps and onto the pavement, he felt bad that he had to leave.
He dreamt of Morgan later as he slept, images of them at the swimming pool at school, watching TV in their family room replayed in his mind. There were traces of a memory he couldn't place, something he hadn't seen before, something that had been buried. They were sitting on the edge of a cliff, her eyes, the same as his blue ones were staring right back at him, and together they were bathed in pure blinding light.
His mood had changed after that night. His conversation with Taylor on the swings, the brief moment with Carter after he took him home and his memories of his sister seemed to have had a good effect on him. He was feeling positive for a change instead of being in a state of increasing torment for so long.
Harold made an offhanded comment about the possible cause for his upbeat mood and even Bear seemed a little more excited about going to McKenna Park to play with the ball and run free on the open green.
His happiness was short lived however and a conversation between Carter and Thompson was the cause of it. He asked her to accompany him on a short business trip to Maryland for two days and after much coaxing, she agreed.
He disconnected the audio from her phone and went straight back to his apartment and into the closet. The scent of jasmine was gone now. There were no more traces of it in the fabric he now held tightly in his hands.
Carter looked at the lone key in her hand as she entered Reese's building. Finch had been genuinely worried and she'd never seen him with a look of panic on his face before. He said he hadn't heard from Reese for a whole day, no calls, no appearance at their 'office', nothing.
When he finally tracked him and found he was still at home, he went to look for him, and found him on the ground in his closet. He hadn't wanted to talk and when Finch tried to find out what was wrong, he pulled a gun on him.
Finch hoped that there was a way for her to get through to him. So he gave her the spare key to Reese's loft. She got to the 5th floor not knowing just what she would find.
She slipped the key into the lock at his front door and pushed it open slowly. She walked inside and took her coat off, resting it on the bed.
Just as Finch said, she eventually found him in the closet on the floor, with her dress from the charity event in his lap.
"John?"