Near Death Experience – Chapter 2
"He's a good man."
No he wasn't, John Reese thought, not even close – if he was, he wouldn't be standing in the darkness, more than a little drunk, watching Joss fuck another man.
Reese had been following Joss for some time now, her red coat a shimmering beacon among the ubiquitous black worn by winter weary New Yorkers, beckoning him forward.
Even though he needed to be sharp for his work with Finch, even though a renewed romance with single malt Scotch was dulling his reflexes and even though he knew that one day she'd probably catch him, he kept following her.
Reese had erased all evidence of Joss from his life - a note in her neat handwriting in the storage compartment of the Ducati, a hair elastic that he had borrowed to roll up a set of blueprints on his desk, the sound of her laughter when she had been startled by a shower of falling leaves on a voice message - he was surprised by how many things there were, cluttering his apartment, littering Finch's fleet of vehicles, filling up electronic queues, dragging down jacket pockets, spilling out of bags and rattling around weapons caches. So many things, but Reese got rid of them all.
Shredded, thrown out, deleted. Gone.
He'd think that he was done, but something always seemed to pop up – a tube of lipstick used to write a warning message on a mirror rolling out of a backpack, dark pink buttons when she snagged her shirt cuff jumping out of a van glinting on floor mats, a coffee cup edged with a slash of red wedged under a car seat, a business card used to mark his place in a book he had read on military history.
Reese knew that if he just took the time and systematically went through everything he would find the rest.
But he kept following her instead.
Besides, he could do that anytime. He had already done the hardest thing, severing all contact with her.
Reese had not spoken to, or been face to face with Joss for weeks.
When Finch mentioned her name or spoke to her on the phone, Reese didn't comment, didn't respond, didn't react, didn't even blink.
It was better this way.
She was developing a closer relationship with Finch – it was about time that those two were finally learning to trust and depend on each other.
She was a team member – Reese had his role, Joss had hers; they didn't need to talk to be effective.
She was an asset – it didn't matter who spoke to her as long as the information got passed on.
She was one resource among many – useful, but nothing more than that.
But yet he kept following her.
Reese didn't want to know about her, speak about her or hear about her.
He just happened to overhear a call between his partner and the detective - the nightmares had stopped, her body had healed, she was feeling better.
Things are back to normal, he thought.
He kept following her.
Two days later Joss had coffee with LaBlanca from SID. When her colleague sent her an e-vite from another friend for an evening out, Joss said she'd think about it. On the way home from work, she stood in front of a boutique window for a moment, left, then walked back and bought a new dress.
So the next evening when Joss left her apartment, he thought she'd decided to meet them. Her hair was down and her legs – long and graceful, legs that he had never seen before – gleamed in the darkness as she headed downtown.
At one point, when she stood in a crowd waiting to cross the street, he was close enough to smell her. Reese closed his eyes, inhaling a faint blend of jasmine and baby oil, warm and light in the cold winter air.
The jostling of the crowd moved him forward, and when Reese opened his eyes, Joss was gone. He thought he had lost her, but then he remembered the coffee shop near her precinct. A few minutes later he saw her placing an order at the counter.
He stood in the shadows, sipping Scotch from a flask as he watched her drink her coffee. Joss smiled at an elderly gentleman who told her she was beautiful and then gently let down the kid behind the counter who was trying to flirt with her.
As she continued walking along, he realized she was near his neighborhood. For a moment he thought stupidly, foolishly, selfishly, that despite everything, Joss was heading towards his loft, but she turned right several streets before his and Reese realized she was heading towards Cal Beecher's place. The narcotics detective had taken advantage of the economic downturn and snagged a loft in one of the buildings a few blocks from his.
Reese hadn't bugged Beecher's place – there was no need to, she had never been there.
Joss stood in a narrow courtyard, checking to see if the lights to Beecher's place were on, then made her way to the lobby. He noted that Joss didn't use the intercom to have Beecher buzz her in, instead waiting for someone to leave the building to gain entrance.
While she waited, Reese easily bypassed the security system on the empty building next door and made his way to a bank of windows on the third floor. The building was close enough that he could look easily into Beecher's place, and as he stood in the darkness he could see the man apparently enjoying a quiet evening at home, drinking beer and listening to music.
Soon he saw a couple make their way across the street from Beecher's building and he knew that Joss had gotten in.
A few minutes later, Beecher let Joss into his loft. He seemed unsure as to why she was there, following her as Joss made her way over to the large sectional, her fingers running along the smooth black leather.
She turned her back to the window and Reese couldn't believe what he was seeing, as her coat dropped to the floor, as she stood there naked except for her black heels, as she stretched out on the couch and offered her incredible body to Beecher.
For a moment Beecher seemed as stupefied as Reese was – while their dates seemed to go okay, things had never gotten 'heavy' between them – and then he took off his clothes, knelt beside her and kissed her.
Beecher's skin was darker than hers, the couch was darker still, both highlighting Joss' beautiful, rich tones even more as he lay beside her. He ran his hands over her body, pausing and then slowly drawing his finger along the left side of her waist.
Reese leaned closer, took a scope out of his pocket for a better look.
There were two thin scars on her waist.
New scars.
Reese knew that he had caused them.
When the truck rammed Donnelly's vehicle, the grab handle that Reese had been handcuffed to came loose and his body hurtled into Joss' as the SUV tumbled over. He heard her scream as she was sandwiched between him and the crumpling metal on her left side and then mercifully she was silent as Kara approached them.
Dizzily Reese wondered, she said she was healed; why hadn't she had them removed, but then those thoughts vanished as Joss slid Beecher's hand away and she began to move.
Joss did everything well, including this.
Strong, sinuous and graceful – she touched Beecher every way a man wanted and needed to be touched.
Reese's hands moved along the window. An empty triumph raced through him as Joss showed Beecher how to touch her, the way that Reese already instinctively knew how, his fingers drawing meaningless patterns on the glass, as though it was her skin.
Tears ran down her cheeks when Beecher entered her, and she turned her face towards the window and closed her eyes.
Later, Beecher led Joss over to a sleeping alcove, their bodies in silhouette, shielded by screens. She laid down with him until he fell asleep and then she sat up, staring at the screens.
She sat there for the longest time while Beecher slept, then walked back over to the couch and put her coat and shoes on. As she walked towards the front door of his loft, Beecher awoke, calling her back. He wanted to take her home, but she shook her head, telling him to go back to bed. They went back and forth until she finally agreed to let him call a cab. She insisted that he not walk her out, kissing him softly as she left his place.
Reese watched her send the cab away and walk down the street, her red coat a shimmering beacon in the darkness. He followed her as she walked for hours, then finally in the morning light, she began to head home, moving uptown against the crowds.
Noting the time, he called Finch. "Just checking in, Finch. Everything ok?"
"I've been trying to reach you, Mr. Reese…Bear has been waiting patiently. You were going to spend some time with him this morning. I took him for a short walk, but…"
"I'll be there soon, Finch."
And still he followed her.
A/N: Next, coffee, beer and cereal and in Chapter 4, we'll start to learn why Reese and Carter's relationship has changed so drastically.