Near Death Experience – Chapter 6
A/N: This chapter gives us a little more information of the events leading towards such a drastic change in Reese and Carter's relationship. This chapter is from Reese's POV.
John Reese stood in the darkness, watching Jocelyn Carter standing on the walkway.
She looked regal, facing the Manhattan skyline. He wondered how long she had been waiting. There is an old joke that the only hassle free way to get to Rikers Island is to be arrested and apparently the hassles extended to getting off the island as well.
Rikers doesn't provide transportation for its guests, even the ones released as being innocent. While everyone in the city knows about the jail, few know where it is or even how to get there.
The city's administrators seem to want to forget it, too – located in the Bronx, it has a Queens zip code and the three lane bridge to the island is unmarked.
The Metropolitan Transit Authority does provide bus service and eventually Reese was able to make his way off the island.
He didn't bother picking up a burner phone to call her as he crossed the city. He knew where she'd be.
"Looking for someone?" he said as he walked up beside her.
She didn't look at him, but he could see the small smile on her face. "No one in particular."
It was their code, the way they greeted each other here.
Reese and Joss met at this site often – it was beautiful, yet anonymous – the type of place whose name you can never remember. They'd discuss cases, arguing over how they were solved, congratulating and chastising each other over the tactics, techniques and tools used.
They'd discuss what was going on in the city – Reese would bait her with some outrageous comment and Joss would quiz him on his ever increasing knowledge of New York and its neighborhoods.
Sometimes, hesitantly, they'd discuss other things – personal things, but keeping it light. The last time they had met here, Reese had loved the sound of her laughter when he told her how he'd caught Harold feeding Bear ice cream after being lectured sternly not to, complete with facts, figures and a chart of a dog's anatomy taped to the plexi-glass, just the day before.
They'd invite Finch and Fusco, but Harold always had some secret activity he was busy with and while Lionel had joined them a couple of times, he'd begged off any other invitations.
Reese understood – the language that he and Joss had developed was so unique, so personal between the two of them, Lionel probably felt like he was attending someone else's high school reunion, where everybody knows about the good old days except you.
They tried to fill you in, but after a while they gave up and you just sat there nodding and smiling politely, counting the minutes until the evening was over.
Tonight was different. Finch was probably on his way and he'd thought that Fusco would be here already.
"Fusco didn't want to celebrate my release?"
"Finch has him tied up with something." Joss replied.
Good. It would be just the two of them for a few moments. They turned and started walking.
"I just want to say, thank you. I couldn't have gotten through this without…a friend to talk to."
Joss looked at him. Her collar was turned up and even though the coat was dark, the inside of her collar seemed to glow, giving her skin a rosy tint as it framed her face beautifully.
"So…was any of it true?" she asked.
Joss knew it was, but it was one thing to tell the truth, another to acknowledge that you told it, after the last drink was poured, or in the clear light of day, or when you wake up to the stranger beside you.
Or in their case, after they had told so many other lies, about so many other things.
They heard a click and Reese never got to answer her.
XXX
Reese couldn't believe how calm Joss was.
Handcuffed, with her career, her reputation, her family, her life in ruins, she was quietly asking Donnelly questions. It wasn't until the FBI agent asked what her price was that she reacted, and even then she defended him, said he was a friend, called him a good man.
He couldn't meet her eyes.
XXX
Reese heard Joss scream, then fall silent. He was able to reach out his hand to touch her, but then he heard footsteps, not the quick, panicked ones of a Good Samaritan wanting to help or the excited, jittery ones of a ghoul wanting to take a look at the carnage, but the slow measured steps of a predator, tracking down its prey.
He pressed Joss' body down, but he knew it wouldn't be enough.
Reese saw flashes of red again, but this time he knew it was Joss' blood.
XXX
What does it say about you when the longest adult relationship you've had with a woman, was with one who was a murderous psychopath?
"You're Stanton, I'm –"
"No, you're not. The ID NCS gave you didn't pass muster, so you're nobody. Which means I get to name you."*
"Hey lover, miss me?"
The words echoed in Reese's mind as he struggled to reach consciousness.
He loved Jessica, but barely knew her. Hated Kara, but knew her better than anyone.
Physically they were similar: tall and slender with willowy, graceful figures, long oval faces, high cheekbones, wide smiles, clear pale skin – even their hairstyles were similar, only the color was different. They were both good at what they did, both had laughter in their voices, but the laughter in Jess' voice made you smile, while Kara's gave you a chill, because you knew that killing made her laugh the most.
During the six months he was with Jess, with his being on duty and her shifts at the hospital, they didn't get to spend a lot of time together; with Kara, he spent days and weeks in her presence, usually in some far off land where they knew no one else, totally reliant on each other for their very survival.
Reese had basked in Jessica's presence, content to float in her warmth and kindness; with Kara, he thought he'd pushed back at her prickliness and sarcasm, but he realized later that he merely reacted, usually either with a cold silence or some sort of outburst. She'd laugh and tell him to lighten up, but he knew that she was adding to her arsenal, her weapons of control.
Kara loved killing and not just with bullets. She was the master of the cruel quip or snide comment – something the recipient would harbor for days, weeks, perhaps years afterwards, those internal wounds that scab over, but never really heal.
Reese learned that her favorite targets were teenage girls and she planned those assaults with the utmost care, making sure there was some sort of audience to witness their humiliation – a girlfriend, a rival, or especially a boy they liked.
When he dragged her out of a shop in the bustling Liverpool One shopping complex as she reduced a young girl to tears, her eyes glittered. "There's no Merit Badge** for lost causes, John, I thought you knew that. But then you're always a little slow on the uptake. Fortunately for you, I keep you around because your trigger finger is faster than your brain."
His eyes narrowed and she smiled, waiting for his reaction, but instead, seconds later, he shot a man, settling him quietly on a bench while unsuspecting shoppers milled about. A photograph fluttered to the floor. Her photograph.
Reese pulled back the man's sleeve, revealing his tattoo – the dead man was part of a group of Eastern Europeans they'd been forced to fleece when a member of their team bungled the funding for an arms shipment. Kara had stood out as the only woman of the group and somehow the Eastern Europeans had been able to track her.
Reese picked up the photo, then took her elbow as they pivoted and walked smoothly away, just another couple in the crowd. "Guess he won't be getting his Merit Badge in Photography, fortunately for you, Kara."
As much as she seemed to hate humans, Kara loved animals. Reese knew that she had anonymously donated her considerable inheritance to animal rights causes and when they were at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, she would visit a private animal shelter, spending hours there.
At Boulder Beach in South Africa, Kara eagerly watched the penguins as they swam and scampered about. When one approached them solemnly, she grabbed Reese's hand, laughing delightedly as the creature stood less than a yard away, watching them, as if it knew the real reason for their visit.
An hour later, they found their target, an American who used his legitimate skills as an animal behavior specialist to travel the world, selling secrets to the highest bidder, and eliminated him.
He'd lasted by far the longest with her – Reese found out a year after they started working together that there had been a pool betting on how long he would survive – a number had died during the course of a mission, but since the outcome was always successful, their loss was acceptable.
There were whispers, of course, that senior management wanted those losses as the fewer people who knew about certain missions, the better.
An Annapolis graduate, a Marine, fluent in Mandarin Chinese and highly proficient in a variety of areas, Kara was essential, they felt. Her partners, if they could be called that, while skilled, were primarily for muscle and clean up.
Others asked for transfers, and one went off into the night and was never heard from again.
When Reese saw the odds, he realized he could have made a small fortune, betting on himself. He wasn't surprised to see that Kara had wagered he wouldn't last a month.
They became lovers after a killing in Paris, grappling as they fell to the floor, removing just enough clothing to slam their genitals together. Their couplings were like their killings – harsh and brutally efficient, the release sharp and searing.
She clawed and scratched and bit, but not in the throes of passion or even as a mark of sexual possession – digging her fingers into a sore spot, smiling if he winced or better still, if blood oozed from it – a sign of ownership perhaps.
When he in turn took her roughly, almost cruelly, she loved thinking that she had driven him to it, that he wanted to punish her that way.
As with everything else, Kara pushed in bed, introducing her own unique pleasures and here was where he finally, quietly, firmly pushed back. Her eyes would flicker, but she would accept it. She had always respected his skills, now she slowly began to respect him as well.
They became better, more equal partners.
Sometimes, there were even brief moments of tenderness between them.
If he had changed his phone number and Ordos hadn't happened they might be working together still.
When they first met and she told him that his name didn't check out, he knew it was a lie - she always changed something about her partners from the start – but he didn't challenge her, didn't dispute her assertion that he was nobody.
He wondered how their relationship would have developed if he had.
Kara had been almost everything – his teacher, his mentor, his constant companion, his partner, his lover, but Reese never forgot that she was not his friend.
He kept the name she gave him, Reese, as a reminder of the power and consequences of choices.
XXX
Reese had the dream again, only this time it was a little longer.
They found the little girl hours outside of the city. She shrank back when she saw Reese – it was men who had kidnapped her and taken her away from her family, men who were going to kill her even after the ransom had been paid – but then shyly held her hand out to Joss.
While Reese drove, Joss sat with the little girl in the back of the car, talking to her, gradually getting her trust. They stopped for food on the way and Joss displayed that perfect combination of firmness and caring when she told the little girl that she would have milk instead of soda and an apple instead of fries.
Finally the little girl slid into Joss' lap and put her arms around her neck, half asleep as she played with Joss' hair. Joss sang softly to her, her eyes occasionally meeting Reese's in the rear view mirror.
They had gotten there in time.
When they arrived at her parents' house, Joss' hair was askew and Reese pulled the red hair elastic free and then ran his finger along her temple, gently pushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, cupping her face as he felt her soft skin.
The part of his brain that was struggling to wake up knew that he hadn't run his finger along her temple, hadn't pushed back her hair, hadn't cupped her face, but the part that wanted to sleep kept trying to see what happened next, both sides stating their case in his mind.
His head fell back, hit something hard.
Reese opened his eyes. It was morning, he was on a bus and the woman that he thought had died almost two years ago was sitting across from him.
"Welcome back, John."
"Kara."
He was a captive again and this time the conditions included extreme danger, certain pain and imminent death.
Now he could focus.
XXX
"The lights should come on completely in a few minutes, boys," Kara said as she motioned them into the space.
She laughed. "It's kind of romantic. You know, Mark, John rubbed you the wrong way from the moment we met…I couldn't tell if you wanted to fuck him up or just fuck him. Hell, I could never figure out which way you swung, or if you even swung at all…you've got time to figure that out today. Wish me luck – your lives depend upon it."
The door closed and the two men stood in the semi-darkness. The space was metal with smooth floors and walls. Reese heard a slight hum as the lights in the ceiling slowly came on.
There was no furniture and just some paper cups in a corner, presumably if they needed to relieve themselves.
Reese thought back to the first day that they had met their new handler, Mark Snow. He and Kara had been working together for over two years and were building a reputation as a team within the agency.
He'd heard some of the nicknames – Tall, Dark and Deadly, Ebony and Ivory - due to their dark hair and pale skin, and his personal favorite, Bonny and Fried***, where he got to be the bonny one.
Mark Snow was an up and comer, known to be coolly analytical but not afraid to do a little wet work as well. Kara was happy about this – their last handler had been squeamish about getting involved and there had been a few tight situations where another gun would have helped - but Reese also suspected that she was playing the angles as well. Having Snow get directly involved in their work gave her a chance to study him under stressful conditions, find his pressure points and devise ways to control him.
Snow was standing, on his desk phone with his back to them as they walked into his office. Waving at them to take a seat, he continued talking.
Reese sat there for a minute, then leaned forward and disconnected the call.
Snow stood still, then slowly turned around, locking eyes with Reese.
Kara smiled, "Reese has a point. We flew twenty hours to get here, Mark. Shouldn't we get started?"
Snow was good, though Kara noted that he was more dogged than bright. He treated her like an equal, whereas with Reese, he kept looking for ways to demonstrate his dominance, the tactics changing daily, but never winning.
Kara enjoyed the non-battle battle. One day after a particularly sharp exchange between the two men, she cooed, "You know Mark, the rule for career advancement is to have people who are smarter than you, but not better looking. John is quite the physical specimen, so nobody can hold that against you – few can beat him there. But, in the brains department…," she laughed, "and you still can't beat him.
Patting Snow gently on the shoulder, she walked away. "So sad you failed on so many counts."
Snow never realized that he couldn't win because Reese didn't care. He knew how petty and small minded the man was from the stunt he'd tried to pull in his office. When they walked in, Reese saw that Snow's office overlooked the length of the courtyard that led visitors from the parking lot to the main entrance.
He had summoned them from hours away, he had watched them walk the long courtyard, and then he tried to make them wait.
The mission they were supposed to discuss was complex, extremely dangerous and for senior management, high profile.
Yet Snow had wanted them to wait, while he finished some innocuous call.
Whatever motivations Kara had for the way she was, she did believe in what they were doing, believed it served some greater purpose and she was willing to be the instrument that carried it out.
When Reese looked into Snow's eyes, he saw a man who cared for nothing, except perhaps his own ambition.
XXX
"When I pulled you from the wreckage I told Kara that Carter was dead." Mark Snow said.
Reese didn't turn from examining the door of the container that Kara had sealed them in. After they retrieved the hard drive that morning, Kara apparently had some other errands to run, so she put them in a sealed container. Her controls were two fold – the countdown timer had been set on the bomb vests and a gauge on the wall indicated how much air remained in the room. Either they would blow up or suffocate if she didn't return in time.
"She can't hear us. Transmissions are blocked."
Reese still didn't turn around. He was waiting for Snow to tell the truth. If Joss was left alive, it was because Kara had a reason, not because of Mark Snow.
Finally Snow let out an irritated sigh. "Kara kept her alive as a backup."
Reese turned around. Snow was sitting on the floor, slumped against a wall, looking straight ahead. "Kara knew, when I drew Carter out weeks ago, that she was somehow important to you – knew I wouldn't have risked it otherwise." He turned his head and looked at Reese.
Reese nodded. "She would have been abducted this morning to force me to cooperate."
Kara had planned everything very carefully, right down to the way they traveled through the city – by bus, through interior courtyards – places where there were lots of people, little opportunity to take the wheel or even dart into traffic until she felt comfortable that he would follow orders.
Waiting to take Joss, if he had proved disruptive, would have been more effective that holding her right after the crash – Reese would know that he was directly responsible. No doubt Kara had a team of mercenaries on standby.
Reese stepped into the space, standing across from Snow. He knew this wouldn't last, that once Kara let them out, Mark would scheme to save his own skin, damn the consequences, but for now he needed to know whatever his former colleague knew, even though he sensed it wasn't much. He squatted down, listened as Snow relayed everything he had done since he was taken by Kara, including his encounters with Joss.
"You know Carter still tried to help me, after…" Snow looked away.
"After you lied to her, tricked her, harassed her, threatened her career and her family and almost got her killed?" Reese said softly, as if he was talking to himself.
Snow shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know why anyone would do that."
Reese knew that Snow really didn't understand, would never understand. He saw a flash of red. "Some people are funny that way."
They heard a scraping sound. Kara opened the door, smiling. "I hope you two were able to work out your issues. How 'bout a group hug…no? Maybe another time. What do you say we grab something to eat? It's my treat."
Snow looked at her. "A last supper, Kara?"
Kara's eyes flicked to her phone as she reset the timers on the bomb vests. "Actually, Mark, considering the time, more like the early bird special for a bunch of retirees like us. Well, John and I were forced into early retirement. But don't worry, you'll get your retirement package soon."
*POI, Season 1 Episode, Foe
** The Boy Scouts of America have currently over 120 merit badges, including one for photography, but Kara is right, there isn't one for lost causes.
***Bonny and Fried is my twisting of the duo Bonnie and Clyde, Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, who as part of the Barrow gang, committed at least a dozen murders and numerous robberies throughout the US Midwest in the 1930s. A film about them, starring Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, was made in 1967 and there was a musical on Broadway in 2011.
A/N: We saw evidence of Snow's pettiness in the Season one episode, Super, when in a scene with his partner Evans, he doesn't bring him a cup of coffee because Evans didn't kill Reese, telling him, "Coffee is for closers."
Next: Someone gets a taste of their own medicine, Reese has a brief conversation with an old adversary and Joss makes a decision.