A/N Thanks for the support of the fic so far. Hope you enjoy Chapter 3

Disclaimer - I don't own POI or any of its characters.

A biting chill suddenly filled the air, and a strong breeze licked at an errant lock of hair on Carter's head. It blew across her face and she impatiently tucked it behind her ears. The heels of her boots pounded on the pavement, but their sound was drowned out by prattle, musical instruments and a throng of people that were gathered on High Street.

There was an art festival taking place in town tonight. Many galleries were open later than usual as people walked in and out of them to gaze at the different creative mediums. Sculptures, photographs, paintings and various assemblage pieces were on display to satisfy the casual art lover in addition to the learned enthusiast. Carter did her best to blend in, as she wended her way through the sea of people and walked into Baroque, a fine art studio. She wasn't here to look at art, however. She was on the job, and her target stood several feet across the room from her at this very second.

A painting of three faceless nudes captured his attention. He stood almost entranced gazing at the figures on the canvas. He was tall, had dark hair, and there was an intensity about him as he moved. She'd been watching him all evening, keeping a reasonable distance between them so he wouldn't notice he was being followed. He'd used his phone a few times, but apart from those brief conversations he said nothing to anyone else. The briefcase in his hand remained tightly in his grasp. The documents within, were her objective. She was simply waiting for him to get away from the crowds so she could acquire it.

As she thrust her hands into the pockets of her coat, she was suddenly forced to shift her attention to two brash teenagers who'd just bumped into her. They sputtered out apologies and gave remorseful expressions, but she cursed the distraction under her breath. When she finally looked up again, her target had disappeared from her view.

"Damn it," she muttered softly.

She scanned the room quickly, but he was nowhere in sight. She purposely strode toward the exit, looking around to no avail once her feet hit the pavement outside. She'd lost him it seemed, but she knew he couldn't have gone far. She had to find him again. Turning to her right, she left the well lit streets and headed for the darkened alley to continue her search. It was eerie, gloomy, and had an ominous feel to it.

"Something's not right," she said to herself. She could feel it with every fiber of her being.

Her hand reached instinctively for her gun at the small of her back and she turned abruptly, coming face to face with her target. Though he had a few inches on her, she raised her gun to his temple.

"You might want to put your gun down."

His voice was raspy and his tone was confident. The alley was dark, but she swore she saw the faint trace of a smile on his lips.

"And why would I want to do that?" she replied.

Her body tensed and she grunted softly, finally feeling the touch of steel against her ribcage.

"Well for one, you've left yourself wide open. I could shoot you before you even got the chance to pull the trigger."

She took a small step backwards, attempting to put some distance between them. His arm moved upward so quickly she barely had time to react and her gun was knocked from her hand. He moved to hit her in the face, but she blocked his fist and hit him with the flat of her palm right above his heart. He staggered backwards for a moment, and she raised her leg, kicking his gun out of his hand. She moved closer to him and hit him in the face, pleased when she heard him grunt. He reached out then and grabbed her wrist. His grip was so firm she couldn't shake her hand loose. She tried to twist out of his grasp, but wound up with his arm around her neck and her back to his chest.

She was pulled closely to his body and his arm was around her waist. It seemed the more she struggled, the tighter his hold on her was. It was becoming difficult to breathe, difficult to concentrate. She had to break away somehow, she thought. She moved her free hand upwards and pulled at his ears, his cheeks, but he wouldn't budge. The arm he held around her waist wrenched her hands downwards, but determined not to lose she yanked one arm away and elbowed him a few times in the torso.

"Careful, there," he whispered so closely to her ear. She felt the warmth of his breath on her neck; she felt goose bumps form on her skin. "You still need to find out where I've hidden the briefcase, remember?"

He was right. Besides knocking the smug look off of his face – the one she knew was there without even looking - killing him was secondary to her mission. She wrapped one of her legs around his causing them both to tumble to the ground. Finally with his arm no longer around her, she scrambled for the gun, putting it just under his chin. He immediately froze as she straddled him.

"Now," she said as she raised one leg and pressed her knee into his stomach. "Where did you hide the briefcase?"

Her breath was coming fast, as was his. They were both tired from the scuffle. She could hear his heart beating almost in time with hers. She felt a thin film of sweat on her brow and a cool breeze suddenly swept over them.

"Somewhere you'll never find it, I'm afraid."

There it was again, the teasing. She could feel the rumblings of a grin forming in his throat. She twisted her knee deeper into his stomach and he grunted in protest.

"I'd say we're done here, Carter. You can holster your weapon, now."

Carter relaxed atop him, then slowly got up to help John to his feet. With her gun tucked into the small of her back once more, she fixed her clothing, tucking her shirt back into her pants. It had come loose during their struggle. She smoothed her hair back off her face and watched as John attended to his own clothing.

"Well, how'd I do?" she asked.

"I think you know the answer to that."

"I wanna hear what you thought, though."

"How do you think you did?"

"Well, I lost you in the gallery for one."

"And how'd you end up losing me?"

"A couple of teenagers bumped into me."

"How'd you let that happen?" he asked as they fell in stride together and started to leave the alley.

"How'd I let it happen?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't let it happen, it just did, John."

"Nothing ever just happens, Carter. You have to always, always be aware of your surroundings. Those kids could have been a decoy, a plant. Always assume the worst of everybody. Always be aware of who's in the room with you."

He was right. What he was saying was nothing new. It was routine whenever she and her platoon went out on a mission. Always check the corners; always know what you're up against before you go in. Tonight however, she dropped the ball.

"Tell me what else went wrong," he coaxed as she got quiet beside him.

"Well as soon as I got into the alley, I felt like something was off. But it was too late to reconsider; you were already here, so a confrontation was inevitable." She shrugged as they got back onto the street, back in the midst of people and under the glare of bright lights and loud chatter.

"Which you handled well, under the circumstances," he admitted. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed the praise that came from his lips. "I did wind up on my ass."

"Yes, you did," she said, and they both shared a rare moment of laughter.

She couldn't help thinking that there was something special about his smile. It said so much about him, even though during the past three months of her training he'd revealed so little. The fact that it was so difficult for him to actually succumb to mirth or even a hint of happiness alluded to some deep seated issues buried underneath the surface. She wondered who had hurt him.

Everything had happened so quickly. After their initial meeting, she'd called Mark Snow to tell him she'd accepted his offer. Within days she'd travelled to Williamsburg to begin her training. It had been unlike anything she'd ever experienced, just as Snow had promised.

"Welcome to The Farm," Mark had said to her once she got there. The Farm was Mt. Peary, the CIA'S unofficial training facility in Williamsburg. While they performed extensive background checks on her life and her past, she underwent numerous polygraphs, aptitude tests and further behavioral analyses. She was taught covert operation protocols, the art of espionage, how to blend in, and how to adequately study people and their behavior.

Physical training was rigorous. She and John sparred regularly in various hand to hand combat techniques. She learned about surveillance and intelligence gathering. It was so much that at times she was taken aback at how extraordinarily detailed the Agency was in their methods. She found interrogation methods especially chilling and gruesome. Could she carry them out if and when the situation called for it?

She questioned John about it, wondering how it'd been for him. The look on his face as he reluctantly told her about his first time was telling.

"You become someone else, Carter. Someone you never thought you could be. After a while, you look at it as if it's just another part of the job."

"And do you love your job?" she asked him.

"I don't have to love it, Carter. I just have to be good at it."

She wasn't sure she was satisfied with the answer, but right then, it was the only one he would give.

Tonight was another training exercise, one of many scenarios they'd run. She knew Snow wanted to send them out together soon, she knew the time to go out into the field was near. She wanted nothing more than to be ready.

The two of them slipped into the black SUV he'd arrived in, and John pulled out into traffic. It was time to go home.

After getting home, Reese took a shower and switched the television on. He felt restless and he didn't know why. There was something in the air, something he couldn't describe and he didn't like it.

He walked into the small kitchen, his body filling much of the space between the counter and the fridge. He opened it and got a beer. He twisted the cap off and put it to his mouth, taking a long drink. His eyes rested on the yet unopened bottle of scotch on top of the counter. His current mood called for something stronger, but he resisted the urge to open it. Instead he returned to the living room and sat on the sofa. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and propped them up on the coffee table.

Whatever was on TV was merely background noise, his mind was elsewhere. It was with Jocelyn Carter in her apartment and had been there ever since he'd taken her home. For the last three months of her training, she'd been a quick study. She'd excelled at her aptitude tests as well as her physical training. The dedication she'd shown to making the most of what she was being taught made him feel almost proud.

He could see himself in her. He couldn't help it no matter how hard he tried. He saw the innocent young boy who'd walked into the recruiting office feeling patriotic and eager to serve his country. Everything about her intrigued him, but he held back. She told him about her mother, her sister Donna and she briefly mentioned her ex husband Peter. She'd regaled him with stories of joining the army, meeting her friend Amanda and her deployment to Iraq. There was still inherent good in her and he was attracted to it more than he could say.

When she laughed, it was a bubbly resonance. It rocked him down to his core. It touched something deep inside that he'd suppressed and he couldn't deny that he liked it. He was getting used to seeing her every day; in fact he looked forward to it. She still had the ability to smile despite the new situation she'd found her in. He felt regretful however, knowing that that part about her would change all too soon.

Tonight she'd done well. He wasn't especially critical of the fact that she'd lost him in the gallery. Some circumstances were beyond your control no matter how vigilant you were in the field. But in the alley, she'd held her own, she'd thought well on her feet. And, as he'd told her, he did end up on his ass.

With her on top of him, he thought.

He put the bottle to his lips once more and enjoyed the smooth taste of the brew as it went down. It wasn't wise to get involved with your partner. Working with Kara Stanton had taught him that valuable lesson. Things got messy at times, uncomfortable even. But tonight, he'd smelled the sweetness of Carter's perfume and he'd been tempted to kiss the lips that were so close to his own.

He downed the last of the beer and got up to get another when his phone rang. Snow was on the other end, asking about the exercise earlier this evening.

"It went well."

"Do you think she's ready?" Snow asked.

"I do," Reese answered with a hint of remorse.

"What's that I hear in your voice? Hesitation? Doubt? Is she ready or not, John?"

"She's ready."

"Well there's only one way to find out isn't there?"

Reese immediately tensed, knowing – and not liking – what Snow had in mind. He didn't want that for Carter. Not in the least. But since Snow was their handler, he had no say in the matter. Didn't mean he wouldn't try.

"Perhaps we could try a different method this time," he suggested.

"No," said Snow. "This one will work just fine. You know what to do."

Carter stood naked before the floor length mirror in her bathroom blow-drying her just washed hair. She'd come home, taken a shower, but she was far from sleepy. Despite it being a long day, she still felt wired, energetic and sleep was the last thing on her mind.

"And how'd you end up losing me?"

John's words echoed in her ears as she replayed the entire scene earlier over and over again from beginning to end. She'd liked it. She liked chasing him, watching his every move, trying to figure out what was on his mind.

"…always be aware of your surroundings…"

Even though he pointed out the things she'd done wrong, she couldn't help but think that there was a hint of pride in his voice as he spoke. Something about him had changed. She knew it. Something about her had changed as well.

Did he hold back? The question popped into her head suddenly; making her wonder if he'd taken it easy on her. During their training exercises he never had, but did he simply allow her to take him down or if she'd accomplished that on her own? She shook her head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came. Tonight it had been all her, nothing more, nothing less.

She put the blow-dryer down and gently brushed her now straight hair. After applying some lotion to her skin, she threw on a racer back tank top and some shorts and planted herself in front of the TV. Her limbs felt better, she thought as she tucked her legs under her on the couch.

The noise from the TV droned on, and Carter thought of her platoon. She missed them, and wondered where in the world they were right now. Someone else would be leading them, molding them, and she'd probably never see them again. She thought of Amanda, and the lousy explanation she had to feed her before she left New York. Most likely that too would be the last time they'd see each other. This job was costly, she realized. Doing what she'd be required to do for the Agency, the friends she'd have would be few, if any.

In the end, all she'd have…was her partner.

Her head turned abruptly at the sound of the doorbell, and she got up to open the door.

"John," she said in surprise. He was leaning on the door jamb, with a particularly devilish smile on his face and a bottle of scotch in his hands.

"Carter. Thought you might like some company."

It was late, Carter thought. When you added alcohol, and the two of them to the equation, the situation could go somewhere they could never come back from. She cocked her head to the side and let him in. His smile was slowly becoming her weakness.