A/N In this chapter, two partners share a bottle of Scotch and Carter gets her first assignment. What will she think when she hears what it is?

**Disclaimer. I own nothing you see here.

"What's with the scotch?"

The inquisitive brow was raised, the curiosity in the tone of her voice was present and Jocelyn Carter waited for an answer.

"Well, it's been a long day…and an even longer couple of months. I figure we could both use a drink tonight."

"Is that so?"

He nodded his head in response. "I had this bottle…just collecting dust on the counter. I think it's time to open it."

Reese watched as she headed for the kitchen and he followed. She took two tumblers out of the top cupboard and stood on her toes to reach them. When she landed flat on her feet, she stumbled backward a little and bumped into him.

"Excuse me," she said, looking over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he lied.

He didn't mind the contact at all, and moved a few inches out of her way. She opened a drawer near the sink and took out an ice pick. After removing the ice tray from the freezer and dropping two chunks of chipped ice into their glasses, she led him back into the living room where they sat down on the couch.

In silence he opened the bottle, poured a little into both their glasses and they took a drink together.

"Where'd you get this?" Carter asked.

She took the bottle in her hands and looked at the label. Her fingers moved over the unique shape of the container, traced the raised lettering, and she looked up at him.

"Lifted it from someone my partner and I were following in Prague earlier in the year."

"It looks expensive. Tastes expensive."

"That's because it is."

"What happened to your partner? Wilson, wasn't it?"

"Killed in the line of duty."

"And he wasn't your first."

"No."

He answered her quietly and took the bottle away from her to pour more of the golden liquid in his glass. She looked at him expectantly, waiting to see if he'd elaborate further on Wilson's demise, but that was a topic he didn't want to discuss. She shrugged when he remained silent, deducing that he wasn't too heartbroken that his partner died.

She put her glass down and reached for a hair tie that was on the coffee table. The hemline of her tank travelled upward as she ran her fingers through her hair and put it up into a messy ponytail. Her midriff was exposed, and for a brief moment he caught a glimpse of her skin. The sight of the light brown hue caused him to swallow hard.

"I miss my platoon. They were a rowdy group. Obnoxious, egotistical, downright out of control," she said.

She looked at the TV, her expression reflective.

"But they were brave, fiercely loyal, and….some of the best men I've ever had the good fortune to work with since I joined the military. They'll always have a special place in my heart."

"Have you ever lost a man?" He asked her, and she looked at him again.

"Not to death, no….but…" her eyes glossed over a minute as she spoke.

He empathized with her as a look of regret came over her face. He knew all too well the responsibility you felt when you were in command. The safety of your men was a top priority. If even one of them were lost, it stayed with you for a very long time afterwards.

"...he was shot…and lost the use of his legs. Some kid, not even twelve years old…just came out of nowhere and….."

She stopped mid sentence and swallowed the rest of the scotch in her glass. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to shake off the strong grip of remorse that had suddenly latched onto her.

"Where'd it happen, Carter?"

"In Tikrit. Back in 2011." She sat up straight as if a light bulb was finally switched on. "That's where I know you from. Special forces, Army….there was a unit there for a brief time when my platoon was passing through…."

"Passing through? That was around the time of…Nestor Gonzales, the dictator from….."

She nodded her head, remembering the mission to bring Gonzales back to the U.S. after he'd sought asylum with certain religious officials in a neighboring nation.

"Exactly! You had a K-9 unit too. The Belgian Malinois," she laughed as it all started coming back to her. "I knew I'd seen you before."

"You have a good memory."

"Isn't that something? After all this time, we end up here, together."

"I guess we were destined to cross paths again."

"If you believe in fate, destiny, all that. According to the rumors I've heard – from Snow - you run through partners pretty quickly. First Stanton, then Wilson."

She shrugged at his expression.

"Snow says I'm lucky number three. You don't seem broken up about the fact that your last partner is pushing up daisies somewhere. Can I assume you wouldn't care too much either if something happened to me?"

The question was innocent enough, but suddenly it seemed to carry more weight than he knew she'd intended. What he'd come to tell her was grave enough; he needed to add a little more levity to the conversation before he dropped the bomb.

"Well for one, the reason I don't seem broken up about it is because Wilson wasn't as easy on the eyes are you are. He damn sure didn't smell half as good as you do, either."

"He smelled?" She asked laughing, but he knew she did not miss the underhanded compliments in the least.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't get me wrong, now. I'm not saying he smelled, but I'd rather have the light floral scent you wear in my nose than the taste of his aftershave in my throat whenever I swallow."

She kissed her teeth and knocked him playfully on his thigh. The brief touch made him stir in his pants, but he played it off as if he was unaffected by it. They'd been sitting next to each other with her body slightly turned toward him. One of her legs was gathered close to her while the other hung over the edge of the chair. For the first time since he'd arrived, he allowed himself to openly look at her. She smelled of soap, fresh and clean. Her legs were smooth and without blemish. Her skin was practically glowing. He saw the defined muscle in her thigh, a nice indentation, not masculine at all, and the faint stir in his pants was turning into an aroused throb.

"No, you don't need to worry. There's something about you that makes me think you'll have a much longer shelf life than he did."

"You are a mess," she said laughing.

"I am," he admitted, suddenly serious, suddenly – and unexpectedly – open.

The laughter on her lips faded, the cute dimple disappeared, and she pursed her lips together.

"Who was she?" she asked.

Reese felt something in the air shift. It felt like he was being pricked with a thousand needles. It was an invitation to trust her, one she didn't even know she was extending. He'd listened to her stories as she'd opened up to him about her platoon, family, now she was ready for him to do the same.

So he told her about Jessica, their brief relationship. He told her about Mexico, watching the Towers fall on 9/11, and how he'd left love behind to re-enlist. The words seemed to spill out like water. Once the first drops flowed from his mouth, they couldn't be stopped. He realized she was the first person he'd actually talked to about it. Kara had known about Jessica. She'd sensed his longing for normalcy, but Reese had never revealed to her how deeply he regretted not seeing how far the relationship could have gone if he'd stayed. Forty five minutes later, the bottle of scotch was almost empty, and he felt a mixture of unease and relief at the information he'd allowed Carter to be privy to.

"She's married now, two years. She seems happy."

He gave her the best smile he could muster, but she saw right through it.

"But you're not. You thought that serving your country was the right thing to do, and at the time maybe it was. Maybe Jessica's happy, maybe she's not. But you never will be if you don't stop going back to that place in your head….if you don't stop asking yourself what if. She's moved on; it's time you do too, John. Maybe it's time to fill that emptiness with something else."

Reese felt bare, he felt stripped and exposed, and for the first time in a long time, the thought of leaving the memory of Jessica in the past made him feel afraid. He'd clung to it for so long, his pain had become a part of him. If he let it go, if he put it aside, who would he be without it?

The reason for his visit was momentarily forgotten; he felt the sudden urge to flee from her intensely knowing gaze. He got up from the chair and headed for the door.

"Wait," she said.

His hand was frozen on the door knob, he didn't move, and he couldn't turn around to face her.

"Besides wanting to share the bottle of scotch, why'd you come here? I know having a drink with me wasn't the only reason."

"Snow is sending you to Ukraine," he answered quietly with a sigh. "Tomorrow."

"Ukraine? Are you coming with me?"

"No. I'm not. He wants you to go alone. There's a CEO who's about to get into bed with a leader of a terrorist cell there in two days. His company has been making weapons for the United States government for years, but the weapons he plans to make and distribute to these terrorists will not only be enough to start a war in the region, it could tip the balance of power in the wrong hands . Your job is to prevent the meeting from happening."

"How do I do that?"

He finally turned around and she stood in front of him.

"You have to kill him, en route to the meeting site. He might be in a hard car; whenever he travels there he has a motorcade with him."

"So I'll take out the motorcade. Who's he bringing with him?"

"His wife, possibly his ten year old daughter."

He watched her face as she took in the last bit of information. Her expression darkened a bit, and though in the end she resigned herself to the fact that innocent lives would be lost, he was glad to see the disappointment that passed over her features at the prospect of killing a child. When he'd given a similar scenario to Stanton, she didn't even blink.

"Will that be a problem?"

She squared her jaw and looked him straight in the eyes.

"No, it won't."

"I'm sorry Carter," he said.

"Sorry? Don't be sorry. I said yes, remember? I accepted Snow's offer and everything that came with it. This is something I wanted to do. I can't exactly turn back now, can I?"

"The first time is never easy," he said as an attempt to comfort her.

"No it isn't. But now I have my answer."

"To what?"

"To why you are the way you are. The first time we sat down together and Mark Snow offered me the job, I noticed there was something about you. It wasn't just that you'd lost your love. It was something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was this job and what it did to your soul. You're cold now, and from what you told me tonight, you never used to be. Every time you kill a…wife or….a child…or someone who just happens to be there at the wrong place, wrong time….something in you just…..dies, doesn't it? You didn't want that for me. Did you?"

Carter's uncanny ability to read him, strongly unnerved Reese. Her big brown eyes were boring into his, looking for something that he'd been afraid to give for so long. But right now, even stronger than his fear was his desire to touch some of the goodness that she radiated. He wanted to hold it in his hands, touch it, feel it, and be consumed by it. He wanted to taste it.

Just once.

He closed the small gap between them but she didn't move, neither did her gaze waver. He cupped her cheek gently and bent his head to softly kiss her lips. The tiny movement of her mouth under his was a taste of heaven. Slowly he coaxed her mouth open and he slipped his tongue inside. She pulled at it, and the flavor of scotch exploded on his taste buds as he feasted on her lips.

Her arms went around his back, her tiny hands fisted the fabric of his shirt and he pulled her closer. She was tiny in his arms, so small and delicate wrapped in his embrace, and she felt so damn good against his body. She moaned as his hands went under the tank top she wore and brushed over her bare skin.

He pulled away briefly, watching her eyelashes fan her cheeks and she slowly opened her eyes. Her lids were hooded, her chest rose and fell and he could see she felt the need to lose herself in him just as much as he needed to lose himself in her. Tomorrow would be different, after tomorrow there was no going back. His conscience pricked at him and he thought about leaving right then and there. She mistook the look in his eye for regret, but he wouldn't take the kiss back even if he could. No, he was afraid for her, afraid for what was looming on the horizon. Knowing what he did, should he let this go further?

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes, trying to ignore the desire that was coursing through his veins so powerfully. When he felt he'd mustered enough strength to make his feet move towards her front door, he felt her fingers at the hem of his shirt. Her hands splayed across his chest and he couldn't stop his immediate reaction. He reached for her again, gathering her in his arms and lifted her up. Her legs went around his waist and he kissed her hard this time, not holding anything back.

Tomorrow would work itself out, he thought. Tonight they would burn together.

Holding her in his arms, he strode to her bedroom. Her fingertips on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine and she ground into his erection, sending tremors through his cock. He lowered her onto the mattress, rid her of her tee and lapped at her nipples with his tongue. Each peak hardened under his mouth, standing at attention, rolled around as he played with them. He kissed her between her breasts, over her stomach and his hands impatiently pulled at the shorts she wore, then her panties.

Her stomach quivered under his mouth, and her fingers were in his hair. Lower he went and drew her knees up so he could rest between them. He looked at her. The trimmed landing strip, her labia that was slightly darker than the rest of her skin, and the flash of pink inside all called to him as if they knew his name. He slid the flat of his tongue over her opening, from top to bottom, and felt the warmth of her juices spill gently onto it. Over and over he licked at her, giving her kisses, touching her intimately. He inhaled her scent, feeling his cock grow harder as he took in the potent aroma. It was hypnotic, intoxicating and he couldn't wait to bury himself deep inside.

She trembled under his mouth, her hands gripped the sheets, and her body rocked from side to side. The lone finger that he slipped inside her while he circled her clit, finally took her over the edge. She came. Hard. And her moans filled the air. He kissed at the inside of her thighs, felt her trail her toes along his back, and then he slowly rose up.

He reached for his wallet in the back of his pants and took out a small pack of condoms. He placed them on the bed and took his shirt off, then his pants, and soon all of his clothing lay in a heap next to hers on the ground. She sat up on the edge of the bed reaching for him, pulling him closer. She took him in her hands, running her mouth over him, sucking at his cock. Her mouth was warm, so warm and he felt as if his knees would buckle underneath him at the sensation. He wanted to be inside her, he was impatient and couldn't wait anymore.

After putting a condom on, he lay between her legs, drawing her knees up. As he moved his head just over her opening, she started to mewl in anticipation. He hissed as he slid himself inside, feeling how slick, how snug she was. His eyes never left hers, not even when he rocked her from side to side, not even when he finally started to move.

His penetration was deep, she held tightly onto him. They moved together, push and pull, giving and taking. Her fingernails dug into his back, and he could feel her squeezing him, pulling him further and further in. He buried his face into her neck and pounded into her over and over until he brought them both to a bursting release.

Afterwards, they were both breathless, both gasping for air. He smoothed the hair from her face and kissed her mouth tenderly. She lowered her legs a bit and he lowered his head to kiss her chest and her shoulders. The hand that rested on his back, he captured in his own and brought it to his lips to kiss her palm. She smiled, and giggled as he kissed her lips again.

The last time he'd been this intimate, this affectionate, was when he'd been with Jessica. It seemed like ages ago now. Carter was nothing like her; in fact they couldn't be more different. He reluctantly let himself slip out of her, and she moaned, shivering when he did.

"I'll be right back," he said, and went to the bathroom. When he returned, she was underneath the covers, beckoning him to join her.

"Do me a favor, will you?"

"What's that?" he answered.

"Don't get all intense and filled with regret just yet. There's plenty of time to have second thoughts about this tomorrow. Agreed?"

Her request was simple, but knowing what she'd be up against made things all the more complicated. The whole situation was anything but simple. But he'd enjoyed being with her. He'd enjoyed her company, and he enjoyed the taste and feel of her. So he agreed to try.

"Your wish is my command, Joss."

"That's what I want to hear. Come here,"

Everything else was forgotten for the moment. All he cared about right now was the feel of her hands on him, and the sweet touch of her lips.

48 HOURS LATER

Carter sat in a corner of what she could only describe as a prison cell. She sat as far away from the entrance as she could possibly get. Her hair, her skin and her clothing were both drenched with perspiration. She was disoriented. She was dehydrated and she could barely breathe. Her throat felt like it would close up, it was difficult to swallow. High powered halogen lights were directed at her, as tall and as wide as the entire cell door. It was if the sun was right in front of her and the heat was unspeakably unbearable. They'd been on for what seemed an eternity.

She didn't know how she got there, or even who'd taken her. Everything in the last two days had been blurry. Her memory was clouded right now. The last thing she remembered was drinking scotch with John. She didn't know where he was, or even if he was still okay. Was he alive? Did they kill him? So far her captors hadn't even spoken to her, so she didn't know what they wanted. Or who they wanted. She tried to look around the room for any possible way to escape and found none that were viable. The cell was stripped bare, with nothing in it besides her as she cowered in the corner praying that the lights would be shut off soon.

Would someone come to save her?

Would she make it out of this alive?