She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it reminded her of what she was dealing with – a man she trusted with her life, with her son's life, in the throes of a drunken pity party. It was time to show him exactly who was in charge and it wasn't him. She was going to pull him out of this kicking and screaming if she had to.

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She threw her shoulders back against his chest, pushing him back away from her and spinning to face him. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not afraid of you, John. I've never been afraid of you. In your other life, you might have been scary, might have been able to intimidate the people you were threatening, but I'm not one of those people. Like it or not, I amyour friend and you're not the type of man who would hurt his friends intentionally."

He scowled. "You don't know me at all."

This time, Jos attempted a smile as she stepped forward and punched a finger into his chest. "I know a lot more than you think I do."

He stared at her, his eyes still bloodshot, his face still flushed. "You don't know shit."

"You wanna test that theory, John?"

He pushed against her again, his hands grabbing her shoulders. "Come on, Carter, spill it. Tell me all the things you think you know about me."

She twisted out of his grasp and stepped to the side, shooting him a glare. "I'm going to. Just remember you asked for this."

Pausing to collect her thoughts, she tried to justify the wisdom of hitting him with all this in the state he was in. She hadn't planned to tell him the things she'd learned when she'd gone to New Rochelle. The talk with Jessica's mother. The file she'd gotten about him. The picture. It wasn't time. He wasn't ready to hear it.

"I'm waiting."

She could hear the barely disguised panic in his voice, the fear of his secrets being exposed. She didn't want that, but he wasn't giving her a choice.

She turned to him, her face a mask of calm. "I know why you're drinking yourself into a stupor in the middle of the week, about the guilt you feel for something you couldn't change, something that no one but Jessica could have changed."

His eyes widening for a split second told her she'd hit the mark. She turned away from him; from the pain she saw gathering again, and walked towards the window looking out over the park.

She didn't have long to wait for the anger to come. He strode towards her, his eyes hooded, the anger radiating off of him. He gripped her shoulders, spun her around to face him, and pushed her against the wall. "Don't. I don't know how you know about it, but don't ever try to tell me you know how I feel, Carter. Not ever. You don't have any idea."

"Really? I lost my husband, John. I wasn't there when he died. I don't know that guilt? Fuck you."

He growled at her and pushed her harder against the wall, his restraint straining with every second, his grip tightening on her shoulders. She could see the conflict in his eyes. He understood, but he couldn't face it.

She winced against the pain. She had to put a stop to this before he did something she knew he would regret. It was time to fight back, to give him something else to focus on.

She stepped forward, her left foot landing next to his, at the same time using both arms to sweep across and break the hold he had on her shoulders. She stepped forward again and threw her left arm across his collarbone, twisting her body to the side, throwing him off balance and to the ground. It was a classic Aikido move that someone of John's skill would have easily countered if he didn't have at least a half a bottle of Wild Turkey flowing through his body.

What she didn't see when she started the throw was the chair so close to them. John went down hard, hitting the back of his head on the arm.

"John!" She fell to her knees next to him, checking for blood, but afraid to move him. She pulled her hand back, her fingertips covered in blood.

She let out a breath of relief when she heard him groan.

"Shit, Carter." He reached for the back of his head, hissing when he found the knot.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but you deserved it. Just get up and sit on the couch. Let me take a look at it." She wrapped her arm under his and around his back, helping him up, moving him to the couch.

Jos watched him deflate a little, as if the knock on the head released some of the pent up rage and fear. She went to the freezer and, after finding a towel, wrapped some ice in it. She looked over at him from the kitchen area, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped. He might not be sober, but she could tell by looking at him that he was going to be less difficult to deal with.

"Do you have any peroxide?"

"Under the sink." She smiled at the resigned tone of his voice.

She grabbed the roll of papertowels, peroxide, and the ice and sat next to him on the couch. He didn't look at her, so she set it all down on the table.

"Let me see your head."

"Jos…"

Ah, we're back to Jos now, that's a good sign.

"You sure you want to argue with me?" She leaned down to try to catch his eyes, but he turned away.

"Fine."

John dropped his head lower and allowed her to probe around in his hair until she found the knot and the small cut.

"Hand me the peroxide and papertowels." He did without hesitating. She couldn't help the small grin that fought its way onto her face.

"I like you much more when you're submissive like this." When she poured the peroxide on the towel and dabbed it on the cut, he flinched and pulled away.

"Oh, did I forget to mention it might sting? Sorry."

He went to turn his head and she gripped his chin, keeping him in place. "Don't move."

"I never realized you had such a mean streak in you." She felt him smile slightly.

"You just bring it out of me, I guess. It's what happens when people you care about are doing destructive, stupid things to themselves."

He didn't say anything, just sighed as she continued to clean up his wound.

"There. I think that'll do it." She leaned over and grabbed the ice, twisting the towel to keep it closed. She placed it gently on his head and grabbed his hand. "Here, hold this."

John leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. She watched him for a minute, giving him time to collect his thoughts. When he didn't say anything, she pulled her legs up under her and turned towards him. She ran her hand down his arm and covered his hand with hers.

"Finch give you the key?" His voice was much quieter, more resigned. The storm seemed to be clearing.

She squeezed his hand, surprised when he turned his hand over and gripped hers, never opening his eyes. She recognized it for what it was: an attempt at an apology, something he wasn't very good at giving. "Yep. See, that makes two of us at least."

He turned his head towards her, wincing, and opened his eyes on a slow blink. "What?"

"Finch gave me the key because he was worried about you, thought maybe I could help more than he could. That makes two of us that care about you. Three if you count Taylor, who's convinced that you're a complete badass. If he could only see you now, taken down by his momma." She winked at him and bumped his shoulder with hers.

"Yeah, well, you never mentioned you were part ninja." He bumped her back and fought a smile.

She leaned towards his ear. "There's a lot you don't know about me, mister."

He closed his eyes again and leaned the back of his head against the ice. "And yet, according to you, you know everything about me."

"I wondered if we were going to get back to that. I kind of hoped we wouldn't."

John turned his head towards her, his brows furrowed. "Why? Isn't that why you're here?"

"No. I came because I care about what happens to you. I know how hard dealing with the guilt can be." She ran the back of her index finger across his jaw. "And I really didn't want to see the beard again."

She got the chuckle she was hoping for and laid her arm over the back of the couch, her hand behind his head, her fingers absently running over his holding the towel full of ice.

She couldn't help but think that this situation wasn't them. They didn't touch, they didn't share, and they didn't fight. At least not like this. And yet, here they were. She didn't really know what to make of it. She liked it, though, could get used to having quiet moments with him. Preferably without having to nearly knock him unconscious first.

He shifted and pulled his leg up on the couch to face her. "So, what do we do now? I know there are things you want to tell me."

She laid her head on her arm and shared a small smile with him. "I'm that easy to read, huh?"

He shrugged.

She moved to get up and he put his hand on her arm. Jos shook her head. "I'm not leaving, John. I just think showing you something first might…" She couldn't find the words to explain what she was about to do.

She walked to the door and bent to get her purse, feeling his eyes on her the whole way. This had to be the right thing to do. She couldn't think of any other way to tell him.

"I got this when I talked to Jessica's mother." His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't say anything. "She knew about you, but only that you and her daughter had dated. This was locked away in Jessica's things, in some place only she knew about. You mattered to her, John, even after you were no longer together."

When she handed him the picture, Jos noticed his fingers trembling just the slightest bit. That small thing set her nerves on edge. John wasn't afraid of anything…but something this close, something so personal…they didn't do this. It was forging new territory for both of them. She was ready for it, for the friendship, for whatever came with it or after it, but she wasn't sure he was. She decided that she'd make sure he knew, no matter what, he would always have a place in her life.