A/U Here goes Chapter 12 as we come near the end of the story. Most of this chapter is internal with different POV's of Shaw, Carter, and Reese. No Beta, so forgive any typos or mistakes. Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Disclaimer ~ I own nothing you see here.
Carter was the first to wake.
Tiny slivers of light peeked through the room window and let her know that it was near mid day. The time on the clock told her that she'd enjoyed about six hours of rest. John was still asleep beside her, his breathing even, steady. She put the back of her hand to his cheek and his forehead, making sure he hadn't developed a temperature during the night. Her fingers moved down to his pulse, and she was glad that it was still steady.
She sat up slowly, thinking about the night before; the hand-off to Newman and his recognition of the canister. He wouldn't tell her what it was, but she felt she just had to know. There were so many questions swirling around in her head, but so far no one would give answers.
This was nothing like she'd ever done. It was the only truthful thing Mark Snow had told her since she decided to join the CIA. She remembered the first phone call with him, standing outside the café going to meet him, and she wondered if she'd known then what she knew now, would she still have accepted his offer. She'd known for a long while, even after joining the SEALS that she'd wanted more. She wondered though, if this was the 'more' she had in mind. It was too late for regrets and what ifs anyway. That much she knew. The situation was a unique one and that was that.
John had said that it wouldn't get easier, but harder in fact. During the brief time she'd known him, she knew that he'd become hardened by the job. She felt herself go through those same changes in just the last few weeks. She meant it when she said it hadn't been a good idea for them to get involved. In the beginning her optimism had made her believe that it was something they both could handle and keep separate from their work. But even though it complicated things so much, she felt a closeness to him that she liked. Perhaps it was because her old life was gone, as were the people she knew. Perhaps it was because they were all each other still had. But in her own special way, she felt she needed him. He was an anchor for her at the moment. As dark and as hardened as he'd become, there was something about him that helped her to just be still at the end of it all. She was scared of losing him. Her platoon was gone, along with her old life and her old existence. She couldn't lose him too.
The rumbling in her stomach reminded her that it was time to eat. Though John couldn't eat solids for a few days, she had to find him some broth at least so he wouldn't starve. She went into the bathroom and stripped out of her clothes. The warm water in the shower did a good job of washing away the morning blues that'd plagued her when she got up. She got dressed and grabbed some cash, intending to head out.
"Joss." John's murmur of her name was faint, she almost hadn't heard it, but she walked over to him and sat down on the bed beside him.
"Good morning," she said, reaching for his hand.
He stared back at her with sleepy eyes, and she felt glad that he was alright.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To get some food. I'll be back soon."
She caressed the side of his face, and his eyes fluttered close again. The medication would have him drowsy for a while. She expected him to be this way for at least the rest of the day. She pressed a quick kiss to his temple and headed out the door.
Instead of getting the car from Shaw as she intended last night, she simply stole a new one. The vehicle she chose was in a parking lot a few blocks from the motel. It was a '97 Volkswagen, the paint was chipped and it had a few dents here and there, but when she started it, the engine ran pretty well.
An hour later, she sat at a table in a small family owned restaurant and waited for her order of food. On the back seat of the car were a few bags of groceries, nothing substantial, but something that would hold them for at least three days. After that, they needed to move to another motel out of the city. Hopefully in a weeks' time, John would be strong enough to travel.
They'd come to Montenegro with various passports and other alias besides the Tadic cover. Snow had also given them other credit cards and bank account access so money was not a problem.
The challenge she faced before they left, was handling Amelia and her husband Dawid.
Shaw sat down heavily on the couch and put the bottle of beer to her lips. It was a little past 1pm and not too early to have a drink in her opinion. She stared at the large flat screen TV that was mounted to the wall in the tiny living room and looked at the different angles of camera footage displayed across it. She was beginning to wonder if this was a real assignment or just a test of her damn patience. The surveillance so far had produced nothing worth seeing. Or so she thought. She was reviewing the tapes from the previous evening, when she noticed a familiar figure step into the frame. He was short, with a receding hairline and beady eyes. He, along with another man who was noticeably taller, walked alongside each other until they both entered the compound of the very man she was told to watch. He had a briefcase in his hand when he went in, but he walked out twenty minutes later without it.
She zoomed in on his face as he looked up briefly and was shocked at who it was. Though she'd met him only once before, she recognized him instantly. It was Mark Snow.
Reese's eyes opened slowly, and a hazy glance around the room told him he was alone. Lethargy clawed at him, but he fought it, rolled to his side and pulled himself upright in bed. He leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus. His lower body felt heavy, almost like dead weight, but it was normal after a gunshot wound to feel that way for a while. If he'd lived a sedentary lifestyle it might have been worse. He might not have recovered at all had it not been for Joss, or the young doctor she'd brought with her. He wondered once more who she was.
Earlier when he'd opened his eyes, Joss was on her way out to get food. He hadn't known the time or how long she'd been gone. When she finally returned, they had a few things to discuss before sleep pulled him under again. There was the Belkas who needed to be taken care of, and their departure from Montenegro. His injury had slowed them down considerably. If he hadn't gotten shot, they would've been headed for Italy today. They'd need to stay in town at least for another three to five days until he was strong enough to travel.
He'd been worried about her last night. The look on her face this morning didn't provide any insight to how she was really holding up. She seemed okay, but in his profession he knew better. Looks could be deceiving. He supposed that right now, she needed some time to process things before they talked about it.
He heard footsteps at the door, and a few seconds later it opened. She came in with various bags and dropped them onto the table in the room after shutting the door behind her.
"I see you're up. How do you feel?"
"I'm fine."
She was busy unloading them, arranging them neatly on the table top, discarding unused bags and containers. It was busy work, meant to keep her occupied and him distracted.
"Got you some soup, something to drink."
He looked at the bottle of apple juice and a Styrofoam cup of what he hoped was coffee as she held up both hands. He preferred the latter.
"No toast? Eggs? Donuts?" he asked.
"I see you still got your sense of humor." She slipped out of her jacket, and walked over to the bed, soup in hand and a spoon. "You can feed yourself, right?" she asked, handing them both to him. He took them from her, stirring the bowl, realizing that the word soup was used rather loosely. There was no meat, the vegetables were miniscule, and it was more of a broth than soup.
"Smells good," she said, and she shot her a look.
She simply shrugged and bit into her sandwich. The spoon he put in his lap, and put the bowl to his head, swallowing some of it. It was aromatic as she'd said, and though it wasn't what he wanted to eat, it was tasty enough and thick enough to satisfy his appetite for the moment. After a few mouthfuls he felt full, and set it down on the nightstand beside him.
She got up and handed him the coffee and the warm beverage went down easily. Eventually the empty cup joined the rest of the soup on the nightstand, and soon she'd finished her breakfast too. After she took care of the trash, she passed him a small cup of water and two pills.
"Painkillers," she explained, as he swallowed both down. "Unfortunately they're gonna put you to sleep pretty soon. Wanna get out of those clothes?" she asked, eyeing him. He still had on his dress shirt and pants from the evening before, and the sound of a shower sounded like heaven right now. He wouldn't be able to have one of those for a while, he thought ruefully.
"As long as you promise not to take advantage of me."
"I will try my best to control myself. Not making any promises though," she said laughing, and disappeared into the bathroom. Her laughter was infectious, and caused him to chuckle along with her too.
While she was gone, he pulled his shirt off slowly, and after unzipping his pants, he rolled to his side, attempting to slide it off, one leg at a time. When she got back, she set down a small aluminum basin and finished undressing him. He watched her lather the washcloth a little and he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of it as she ran it over every inch of his skin. She was careful not to get his bandages wet; she was gentle as she tended to him and rolled him to his side to get his back. This was different from their lovemaking. This was tender, and sweet, and somehow even more intimate.
"I know you normally wash your hair every time you shower, but, this'll have to do for now."
She ran the moist cloth over the top of his head. He looked up at her and saw that her eyes were full. The tears were dangerously close to falling, but he knew however, that she'd never let them fall in front of him. After he'd brushed his teeth and she'd gotten him into more comfortable clothing, he felt better, more relaxed, and more grateful to her than ever.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for saving my life, Joss."
She let out a heavy sigh, and nodded. She looked as if was about to get up off the bed, but she put a hand to his face and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth instead. "We got each other's backs remember? Maybe you'll end up returning the favour some day."
"God forbid," he answered, touching her cheek with a heavy hand. Already his eyes were drooping, and he felt the effects of the medication kicking in.
"Go to sleep," she coaxed. "I'll be here when you wake up."
And she was. As promised, when his eyes opened again, she was right next to him on the bed with her gaze focused on the TV screen. The volume was turned low, and the local news was playing. The news anchor was speaking Serbian, and from what he could make out, the local authorities still had no leads on who was responsible for the local financier's death. There was no mention of the Tadics or their presence at the mansion during the weeklong celebration of Pia's birthday. The widow, though obligatorily solemn during a brief interview, didn't seem too broken up about her husband's demise.
"What do you think, John?"
Without a word from him, or even a slight movement, she instinctively knew that he was awake. It was almost a sixth sense.
"She's a piece of work. She'll have plenty of money and warm, young, male bodies to console her till she's over it."
"She's probably over it already. I doubt it was ever love at first sight for those two."
"What time is it?"
"Almost five o'clock."
"We have to move soon. Have you talked to Snow?"
"Last night," she said, muting the TV. "He wants us in Italy yesterday. Think you'll be strong enough next week?"
She looked down at him and her face softened.
"We can leave tomorrow," he answered.
"Don't be silly, John. Day after tomorrow, we'll move to another motel…and you'll rest up for a few days. Next week, we'll head out and see what Snow has to say."
"Sounds like you have it all planned."
"Most of it, yeah."
"And Amelia?"
She was about to answer him when a photo of the socialite flashed on the TV screen. A report came in with breaking news that the wife of the Polish senator was missing. They were interviewing Dawid who had reported her disappearance just hours ago.
"Son of a bitch…." Carter crawled to the edge of the bed and rested on her shins, watching the segment till it ended. When it was done, she got to her feet and paced the room. With each step he could feel her anger mounting.
"Joss…"
"He killed her. He killed her, John."
"Joss…"
"I know he did. He found out we knew each other…and he killed her."
"Maybe she's not dead yet." He knew it was a bogus attempt to give her some sense of hope that her friend was still alive, but in truth he knew it was in vain. "We can look for her, we can find her."
Carter knew John had good intentions, but she ignored his attempts to try to placate her. She searched through her suitcase and found her old cell phone. She searched for Amelia's number and dialed it. It rang repeatedly with no answer, and she feared the worst.
"John…if she's dead because of me…"
With each passing second it was getting harder and harder for her to remain calm. Her recent anger had abated somewhat and with a new day she'd kept the heaviness at bay. Right now, too many thoughts and scenarios were running through her head.
She looked through her phone, checking for messages, voicemail, anything. She found one lone voice mail and listened to it.
"Joss, it's me, Amelia. I don't know what's going on with you and your husband…or Klaus, but if you're still at the mansion, you need to get out. I don't know what's going on with Dawid either, but…he isn't acting like himself. I'm really scared something bad is about to happen, and I don't want you to get hurt. Please take care of yourself…or at least -"
What she heard afterwards caused her stomach to turn, and she put a hand to her mouth. There were sounds of a brief struggle, a loud thud, and then faint whimpers. If Amelia was alive after the call, there was no doubt she was dead now.
John watched the expression on her face change right before his eyes. It went from worry to disappointment, to resignation, and then to growing rage. Whatever she'd listened to on the phone wasn't good. He was hesitant to ask what it was, but he had to.
"What is it?"
She shook her head, walking over to him with her hand outstretched. He took the phone from her, listening to the voicemail when she replayed it for him. Amelia had left a message trying frantically to warn Joss about what her husband might be planning to do. A confrontation afterwards left no doubt that the senator had killed his wife. His sobs afterwards drowned out the quiet groans that came from her. Whether it was a crime of passion, an accident, didn't matter to Joss. Her friend was dead, and he knew this was something she wouldn't let go. They were due to leave for Italy next week. Now he wasn't so sure they'd meet that deadline.
"I'm sorry, Joss."
He reached for her hand, pulling her toward him on the bed. She stiffened at first, but eventually she allowed him to hold her for a short while. She gripped the arm that he wrapped around her, and he did his best to comfort her as she cried silently over the loss of her friend.
After a few minutes she abruptly got up and wiped at her tear stained cheeks. She silently put on her boots, and her jacket, and grabbed two pistols.
"Joss…he's going to be heavily guarded, especially now that he's reported his wife missing. What do you think you're doing?"
"I'll be back soon. There's water, there's food, there's….."
"Don't do this. You walk in there alone and you'll be killed."
"I'm a Navy SEAL remember? I've led extractions before. I know how to do this like I know the back of my hand. You and Snow picked me for this same reason, remember? Or was that all a lie?"
"It wasn't, but…"
"'But' nothing, John. I'm going to do this, and you can't stop me." She tucked both pistols in the waistband of her jeans and turned away.
"Joss…"
She finally turned to look at him, and he hated the cold look in her eyes. "Joss, I don't want to lose you."
He realized - they both did in that moment - that he didn't only mean physically, but that goodness that was a part of who she was, was in danger of being tainted, lost forever. That was the part of her that he didn't want to be swept away.
For a split second she looked as if she would change her mind and stay. He could see her weighing the pros and cons of what she was about to do, the uncertainty, her anger, the quiet resolve. Eventually she shook her head, and he knew she wouldn't be persuaded to reconsider. Without another word, she left, and the sound of the door slamming echoed in the room after she was gone.