Near Death Experience – Chapter 10
A/N: Reese finds the extraordinary in the ordinary. This chapter is primarily from Reese's POV, but we open with Lionel Fusco – in this chapter he refers to Reese by a variety of nicknames, including BOME – bane of my existence.
Lionel Fusco knew it was like a beef with his ex-wife:
He knew it wasn't a question of if, only when.
He knew it would be wild and untamed, a true force of nature.
And he knew that even if he kept his knees soft, ready to duck, a punch would come out of nowhere and knock him down.
Carter and Wonderboy.
Yeah, Fusco had seen it coming forever, even when Carter was chasing him.
Carter got him shot and Reese shrugged it off; Lionel's ex once threw a ham at him during Easter brunch at a Hometown Buffet and he had her arrested.
Then once Carter started working with him, it was like she was the star pupil – she got to call Reese by his first name, she got the good assignments, she got the thanks.
Carter got to go on a trip with him; Lionel got the dog.
Even if he hadn't known already, Fusco would have realized it when he met Reese and Carter one evening at their spot.
He was aware that they got together on a regular basis so when they asked him to join them, Fusco quickly accepted.
He should have known better.
It was out in East Nowhere, parking was a bitch and he had to walk a mile to get there. The place was like the two of them - thin and pretty. Lionel tried to brush off the mustard stain on his tie as he walked up – yeah, he'd fit in real well here.
Then he heard laughter.
Fusco looked around, wondering where the sound was coming from. It was male and Reese and Carter were the only two people there.
Reese. Laughing.
Lionel didn't think he could laugh. Mr. Happy barely moved his lips to talk.
Wasn't there some rule against it, some violation in the BOME manual? A black van should pull up any minute now and ten muscle men would wrestle Reese to the ground and take him away to some secret lab funded by Glasses, where a bunch of eggheads would replace his malfunctioning chips.
Carter made Stoneface laugh more than once that evening and even though they invited him again and Lionel went once more, just to be polite, he knew they really didn't miss him. Even a total stranger could see that there was something between them, everybody could.
It was just those two geniuses who didn't know it yet, or if they did know, for some reason, they kept holding back.
After Wonderboy almost got his ass blown sky high by some crazy chick he used to work with, Fusco couldn't see how they could stay away from each other any longer, so he wasn't surprised when he spotted Reese across the street as he and Carter were heading toward her cruiser.
Carter could be a pain in the ass, and Reese could be an asshole, but there were days when they made Lionel feel that he could be a better cop and more importantly, a better man.
He smiled to himself - everyone deserved the chance to be happy, even BOME and 'my first name is Detective' Carter.
Besides, if they waited any longer, Fusco expected Reese to walk into the precinct, throw Carter over his shoulder and disappear with her for a month.
That would have been a little hard to explain to the brass.
Lionel nodded at Reese, then touched Carter's arm, jerking his chin forward. "Go. I'll cover for ya."
She turned around, saw Reese, then turned back with a hint of a smile, handing him her keys. "Thank you, Lionel."
He watched the two of them walk away.
Fusco warned himself to keep his knees soft, but when the punch came, he knew somebody was going to get decked. Hopefully it wouldn't be him.
XXX
Joss cocked an eyebrow at him, her voice low and scratchy. "Shouldn't you be strapped down somewhere, getting fluids pumped into you, John?"
He cocked one back. "You offering to pump me, Detective?"
She gave him the look. "Maybe…if it's with something lethal."
They smirked at each other as they walked along.
Reese's voice softened. "I think I got more sleep than you did, Carter."
He knew that Joss and Fusco had probably spent hours at the blast site and they were already heading out on an early morning call when he arrived.
"Stay out of trouble for a few days, and I might get some sleep, too," she retorted, but her voice was soft as well.
Reese saw that Joss seemed to be favoring her left side, but when she saw him looking at her waist, she snapped, "It's nothing, John," and he let it go, not wanting to get into an argument with her.
There was a historical society not far from the precinct that had a little private garden for its members. Reese and Joss had met there several times before to exchange information and for once, Joss didn't comment when Reese swiftly picked the lock and ushered her inside.
They sat down on a covered bench, sheltered from the wind, but warmed by the early morning sun.
She looked away a moment and then when she turned back, her eyes were soft, like they were last night. "You're okay?"
Reese nodded, smiled. "You, Carter?"
Joss nodded, smiled back. "Yeah."
They sat there for a while, not speaking, pretending to look out at the empty garden, but Reese would steal glances at Joss when he thought she wouldn't notice and he saw that she was doing the same to him. It was so quiet that Reese could hear his heart beating. He tilted his head at her and took a half breath, preparing to take her hand, when he saw it.
Marks on her neck, just visible above the edge of her collar.
Joss had on a red turtleneck sweater and her hair was down, but Reese could make out a ring of faint markings marring her bright skin.
So swiftly that she wasn't able to react, Reese yanked her collar forward.
Someone had tried to choke her to death. The marks were faint now, but Reese knew that soon they would be black and blue.
Hess. It had to have happened when she broke him. You could hear him screaming and raging at her as they took him away.
Joss didn't protest or try to move away and Reese knew how painful it was.
"It's noth- I'm okay, John."
He jumped up, shaking his head. "Fuck!" Pacing, Reese knew he had to get control of himself, but all he could think about was Hess' hands around Joss' throat, choking the life out of her.
"John…"
He whirled to look at her. "He tried to kill you, Joss!" Her eyes flickered, and Reese knew that she'd seen the killer in him, knew that he wanted to kill Hess.
Joss stood up, trying to meet his eyes, but Reese looked away. "John, listen to me. He'll never see the light of day again. Turns out he worked for a bunch of terrorist organizations – this was just a side job for him. All three of them – Kelly, McAvoy and Hess – killed for money, but Hess was the worst."
He wanted to touch her, but when he raised his arm, his hand was shaking.
Joss grabbed his hand. "John, look at me." Reese turned his face to hers, looking but not seeing her, not seeing anything.
"John." Her small hand was squeezing his so tightly, he could feel the tension radiating from her whole body, as if she was afraid that if she let go, he'd leave. "Look at me."
"John," Joss whispered, and Reese finally saw her face, saw that she wasn't shying away, even after everything else that had happened, even after this, even when she saw what he still, truly was inside. "I'm O.K."
His voice was wondering, bewildered. "How…How can you, Joss?"
Her voice was clear and strong. "You're my friend, John. You're…my friend."
She drew him back over to the bench, still holding his hand tightly.
XXX
"I have to get back," Joss finally said.
He knew that she had to meet Fusco at a crime scene and then would be spending the remainder of a very long day being debriefed by a coterie of NYPD, FBI and Corrections Department staffers on the events at Rikers.
Reese tilted his head at her. "Would you…like to spend the day with me? We could –" he shrugged slightly, "- go for a walk and…you could see where I live, have lunch."
Their eyes met, held.
Joss nodded slowly. "I'd like that."
They decided on the day after tomorrow. Reese gave her an address.
Joss raised an eyebrow as she keyed it into her handheld. "No password or access number? Don't you at least have a code name I have to ask for to get past security?" She grinned, "Or are we going to spend the day in your mother's basement on a lumpy old futon playing video games?"
Reese grinned back. "You don't get out much, do you? No basement or code words, but if it makes you feel any better, I do have a tree house."
"In your apartment? Really?"
"You'll just have to wait and see, Detective."
As they both stood, the breeze lifted Joss' hair. Her red collar was still askew from his yanking it earlier. Reese drew his hand gently across the material, smoothing it down. His hand then ran up the side of her jaw, as he pushed a lock of her hair back, then continued along her cheek as he cupped her face.
Joss slowly covered his hand with her own. Dizzy, his body trembling with hope, fear and desire, Reese took a stumbling half step back, but Joss slid her hand down his arm and she steadied him, lifting her face towards his. Her dark eyes glowed with a shy, quiet joy.
Reese leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers, her mouth soft and warm despite the cold. She stepped into his embrace, the kiss deepening as they wrapped their arms around each other, their bodies fitting together perfectly as though they had always known what their hearts had ignored for a very long time.
It was like everything in the dream and more, the smell of jasmine and baby oil, the softness of her body against his, the feel of her hair swirling around his face, the sound of her breathing and the sweet tenderness of her lips, richer and fuller than he ever could have imagined.
They didn't speak when they parted, there were no lingering gazes, no hands reluctantly drifting apart, no looking back as they walked away, just the calm certainty that soon, Reese knew, they would be together.
XXX
The private market offered the best food in the city. Flouting health trends and environmental concerns, the meats were thickly marbled, the seafood flown in daily and the fruit and vegetables inspected ruthlessly and discarded for the minutest flaws.
The vendors were well aware of who could afford to buy their goods, so when a tall dark haired stranger entered the market, a buzz quickly spread through the stalls.
He was handsome and well dressed and though his voice was soft and his manner was self-deprecating, it was clear that he knew what he wanted. This one could not be charmed or fooled and soon the vendors were falling all over themselves offering their finest wares, the items they saved for their best customers.
As he sampled and tasted and made his selections, they tried to find out what the occasion was, and though he refused to say, the light in his eyes and his soft smile told them that it was for someone very special, and they sighed as he left, speculating on who that special person could be and wondering if they knew how lucky they were.
XXX
After his first year partnering with Kara, the Agency sent them to a cooking class for six intense weeks in Paris, where they were screamed at and insulted for eighteen hours a day. Reese often reflected that the experience was almost as brutal as boot camp – he definitely bled just as much as he cut, sliced, nipped and pinched his fingers more times than he could count, sweat streamed in his eyes as he toiled in an non air conditioned kitchen as if he were on a fifty mile hike and his muscles were as wrenched and strained lifting boiling hot pans as they were hoisting the burliest platoon member across an obstacle course.
It was all part of perfecting a persona that he and Kara used numerous times during their years together - a husband and wife cooking and catering team. Often they would have free range of entire complexes, including access cards and security codes, could bring in whatever tools or weapons they needed under mountains of foodstuffs and had plenty of time to leisurely observe their target as they prepared what would often be their last meal.
Reese enjoyed the planning and precision of it, the clear goals, the learning of specific skills necessary for success and the freedom to improvise as he improved.
He was particularly good at baking, understanding how the slightest mistake could spell the difference between something sublime and a leaden disaster, while Kara excelled at making thick, rich sauces, sometimes dipping her finger in one of her creations and offering him a taste.
Food was one of the few things that they genuinely bonded over, so it perhaps it was fitting that their last meal together was one where he declined to eat anything.
Though Reese would never admit it to anyone, he often watched cooking shows as he cleaned and maintained the weapons in his closet.
After he made the arrangements to have his selections from the market delivered to the loft, Reese went to a high end home accessories store.
There he purchased plump accent pillows and thick, nubby throws, in the rich deep colors of marine blue, aubergine and forest green. He bought vases and candles and lightly scented hand soap and lotion, a larger rug for the bathroom floor and an exquisite covered wooden bowl that someone could place their watch and jewelry in, all the those little things that a woman looks for and would enjoy.
He ran his hand over decadently soft sheets, sharing a lopsided grin with the clerk, who knew exactly what he was thinking about. Not yet, Reese thought, not yet, as he brought the rest of his purchases to the register.
By the time he returned home, unpacked and put away all of his purchases, it was mid-afternoon and Reese realized he was tired. The big bed beckoned to him and after staring at it longingly for several minutes, Reese kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the cool linens.
For the first time since he could remember, John Reese closed his eyes and took a nap. As he was drifting off, he smiled, thinking he was cheating on Bear, who in his mode as a service animal had accompanied Finch to Rikers today for his friend's regularly scheduled chess match with Elias. Sorry, buddy, he thought, another time.
"You trying to make salad or juice, Detective," Reese smirked as Joss, her forehead crinkled in concentration, methodically chopped vegetables for the salad. Her mangled efforts formed a sad little pile on the kitchen island.
Reese had just taken the entrée out of one of the double ovens and checked the timer for the bread baking in the other.
She put her left hand on her hip. "If you're so good at this, why don't you show me?"
"I may need to invade your personal space, Joss."
Joss snorted. "Now he respects boundaries." Sighing loudly, she rolled her eyes, "Invade away."
Snow was falling, blocking out the sight of the other buildings and there was a hush over the usual noise of the city. It was as if they were the only two people in the world.
Reese stepped behind her, sliding his left arm around her waist, his hand flat against her stomach.
He whispered in her ear, "You have to stand properly first." Reese slowly pressed her torso back so that it was in alignment with her hips. "Spread your legs a little, there –" his knee nudged her legs a little further apart "- so you have the right balance."
His right hand slid down her right arm, engulfing her small hand. "Next, make the knife an extension of your body." He showed her how to properly hold the knife, gently positioning her fingers.
As she tried to make the first cut, he could feel how tense she was, how focused she was on trying to do everything just so.
"Think about what you're creating, not what you're cutting, Joss."
Her voice was now as soft as his. "What are we creating, John?"
"The memory of a good day."
She shook her head. "No…the memory of a good day, with a good friend."
Reese couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling and he could feel her body align with his.
They began working in tandem. Reese would show her a technique, Joss would copy him and despite a few curse words and a close shave when she overenthusiastically julienned a carrot, Joss was good, as he knew she would be.
Having her so close to him, relaxed, laughing, not shying away when their bodies bumped together was intoxicating - Reese was already missing her, not wanting her to leave, wanting her to spend the night, wanting to wake up next to her. He had to keep reminding himself that this was just the first of many days together, that there would be more meals, more times like this.
Her hair kept spilling over her shoulder and Joss huffed as she flipped it back. "Do you have anything that I can use to pull my hair out of the way, maybe a binder clip or something?"
"I have something better, Detective." Reese stepped away and Joss turned to watch him walk over to his desk. He retrieved the red hair elastic, watching her eyes first registering surprise and then a recollection of that day with the little girl as he returned to the kitchen.
At first Joss reached out to take it from him, but then she suddenly turned around. Reese ran his hands through her thick dark tresses, gathering them together and pulling her hair into a high ponytail, his fingers nimbly twisting the elastic into place. He pressed his face against the nape of her neck, inhaling her warm scent and then he enveloped her in his arms.
Joss turned around, facing him and as they gazed at each other, he told her without saying a word, that it was that day - her fierceness, her determination, her strength of purpose, her compassion and her tenderness when everything changed.
It was her somehow being able to help him lift that grate, it was her dropping down fearlessly into that dank foul tunnel, it was her putting her arms around the little girl, it was her soft voice singing, it was her never giving up, even when she was exhausted, even when it seemed hopeless, even when she screamed at one point in frustration.
It was then, even though it was months ago, even though he didn't realize it, even though he didn't have an inkling of it, that his feelings had changed from friendship to something much deeper.
And it was in that stark interrogation room, when everything else had been stripped away, when it was just two people talking, that it finally came to the surface.
Joss pulled his face to hers and if the kiss in the garden had been tender and chaste, this was not. This was arms and hands and fingers, lips and tongues and chests and hips and thighs all straining to be closer, ever closer together.
The oven timer went off and they broke apart, laughing.
"Food first?" he asked, running his finger along her temple.
"Food first. Then dessert," she smiled, "later."
XXX
After a couple of hours Reese rose, changed into a t-shirt and jeans, went into the kitchen and began to cook, the smells of rich creamy sauces and light delicate desserts filling the air.
He prepared entrees and side dishes, appetizers and desserts, breads and pastries, including several items for Joss to take home, imagining her smile as she served her son dinner that evening, her sigh of pleasure as she bit into a flaky croissant the next morning and her mouth watering as she heated up a thick hearty soup in the precinct microwave after a late morning meeting that ran way too long.
He worked through the evening and well into the night, and then finally satisfied with his efforts, the refrigerator full, the larder stocked and the kitchen clean, he showered and fell into bed, his sleep peaceful and dreamless.
XXX
Reese had spent so many years, in so many places he'd left at a moment's notice without ever thinking of them again, that he was struck by the rush of emotions he felt as he entered the library.
Everything looked new and exotic to him – the books strewn across the floor, the gracefully curving staircase, the spider webs weaving delicate patterns along the bannisters, the chips in the marble tiles revealing dark rich veins of color.
Reese silently mounted the stairs, anxious to see Finch and Bear, absurdly wondering if they'd changed, even though it had been only a few days since he'd seen them last, wondering if they'd had the same thoughts about him.
As Reese turned to enter the HQ space, he heard Bear's bark and before he could react he was tackled to the floor by a squirming, drooling missile of muscle as Bear expressed the relief, camaraderie and giddiness that they all felt inside.
XXX
"Finch, unless there's an emergency, I'm going to take tomorrow off to spend the day with…Joss." Reese was aware that this was the first time he had used her first name in a conversation with his friend.
Finch nodded slowly. "I can imagine that you both have a great deal to talk about – recent events and…several other topics as well, Mr. Reese. Good luck."
Reese smiled. "With the number you just gave me or spending time with Detective Carter?"
"With all things, Mr. Reese, all things. Oh, before you leave, you'll be getting an alert when the detective's coat is ready. It should be done sometime this evening."
"How did you get that taken care of so quickly, Finch?"
"It's amazing what you can do with vast sums of money, John. Also," Reese could have sworn Harold's cheeks were turning red, "Detective Carter, like many modern women, does much of her clothes shopping online, so her measurements were readily available."
Reese raised an eyebrow.
Harold smiled softly, "You'll have to get that information on your own."
XXX
When Reese returned that evening from resolving the number, he noticed that Kara's photo was still up. While they didn't have an official procedure regarding the opening and closing of a case, Finch would put up the photo when he had a new number and take it down when the situation was resolved.
Reese understood why Harold left Kara's photo up – he would be the one to remove it.
As he took her photo down he saw the blueprints from the jail in the wastepaper basket.
"What was this, Finch, Plan B?"
Finch's eyes flicked towards him, then returned to his many screens. "No, actually that was my Plan A, Mr. Reese, but as you're aware, Detective Carter's plan was much more effective."
"So what were you, lookout or getaway driver?"
"Actually, neither. Detective Fusco and I were otherwise engaged. Detective Carter executed everything on her own; I did provide some assistance, but it was minimal." Finch turned from his screens to look at Reese. "She's…,"
For once, Harold seemed lost for words.
"Extraordinary." Reese's voice was even softer and lower than normal, barely a whisper. "She's extraordinary, Harold."
"Yes, John, she is."
XXX
Joss had chosen well. The bar was upscale, but not snooty, popular, but not trendy. Security at the door and several cameras positioned around the space discouraged any trouble, but this was not a place that expected problems. Like all nightspots there was criminal activity, but it was discreet – the call girls could be your date at your company's holiday party and the dealers sold their wares in sleek packages that looked like handheld devices and headsets.
It was the type of place where an attractive single woman would feel comfortable walking into on her own.
The men who frequented this establishment expected fine things and fine women. As Reese scanned the crowd, he saw many beautiful women, but he knew that Joss would have stood out, not just for her beauty, but also for her warrior spirit.
Most of the men would be intimidated, but the smart ones, the ones who recognized how rare she was, would flock around her.
Feeds from the cameras were collected in a small closet in the back of the building. Cramped, with barely enough room to turn around, no space for a chair and the shelves covered with dust, it was clear that the room was accessed infrequently, which meant Reese would have as much time as he needed. A schedule taped to the back of the door indicated a seven day recording cycle, but judging by the number of discs strewn around, that schedule was haphazard at best.
He selected the first DVD and loaded it into the laptop mounted on an upper shelf, fast forwarding through several discs until he saw Joss' image.
Reese had been able to back track Joss' movements via GPS and realized this was the only place where she could have gotten the DNA sample. He wanted to make sure that any evidence of her being in the bar was removed.
He had already gone to all the other locations already, noting that the ass covering was in full swing, including the dismantling of the twenty first floor of 780 Mercer, judging by the tractor trailers lining the block.
The diner where he and Snow had assaulted the two ATF agents didn't have cameras in their parking lot and due to a contract dispute between the city and the company that developed the park where Donnelly captured them, while there were surveillance cameras there, the remote monitoring software to operate them hadn't been installed yet, so they weren't operational.
The bodies of the men Kara had shot when he and Snow retrieved the hard drive hadn't been discovered yet, but it had only been a few days. Eventually the smell would lead to their discovery and the case would be quickly closed as a bad end for two bad people.
The feeds from the bar were the last piece. Once they were gone, it would be as if nothing had ever happened.
Working his way quickly through the pile, he found all the relevant discs, pocketed them and then smoothly exited the closet and the bar.
XXX
It was stunning, absolutely stunning.
"I hope this meets with your approval."
The coat was even more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. Light, yet incredibly warm, simple, yet intricately tailored, it was a coat that would get double and triple takes, a coat that would make you want to follow the person wearing it, not because the coat was incredible, but because the coat made you look at the person who was wearing it and you realized that they were incredible.
Reese smiled. "It's beautiful."
The tailor nodded. "We had hoped to get it to you earlier this evening, but there were still a few details to complete." He showed Reese the inside pockets, the hidden buttons at the end of the sleeves, the tiny weights that would ensure that the garment would always hang properly, those and so many more, all exquisitely done.
It was perfect.
"Mr. Partridge said this was for a good friend. For her birthday, or some other occasion?" the tailor asked as he put the coat into a black garment bag.
"No occasion."
The tailor nodded. "The best kind of gift, when it is neither asked for, or expected."
Reese insisted on paying for it, even though the tailor said that it had already been taken care of, and he left the atelier with a simple white box under his arm.
He had already decided to leave the coat at her apartment early tomorrow morning while she was on her way to meet him, planning to use a variety of shortcuts to get to the rendezvous point in plenty of time.
He wanted her to be surprised.
He wanted her to go home after spending the day with him and see the box on her bed.
He wanted her to hold the coat up, to place her face against its softness. He wanted her to wrap herself in it, to turn side to side as she stood in front of the mirror. He wanted her to laugh with delight as she discovered all the special touches. He wanted her to call him while she was wearing it.
He wanted a reason for her to want to see him again.
He wanted her to suggest meeting him so that he could see her in it.
He wanted to see her walking towards him in a light snowfall.
Red coat, black hair, white snow, all highlighting her incredible skin, her shining eyes, her lips curving in a soft smile.
XXX
Reese sipped a beer as he settled down to watch the DVDs in his apartment. His reasons were watching the feeds were purely selfish, though he planned on having pointed conversations with both Finch and Fusco about not providing backup for Joss, even though he knew there was little to nothing that they could have done.
No, the possessive male part of him wanted to watch the DVDs.
He wanted to see what she would wear to attract a man.
He wanted to see what men were attracted to her.
He wanted to see what man she chose.
The bar had five cameras – one at the entrance and four in the bar itself, mounted on each wall. It was the typical shitty surveillance feed. The resolution was terrible, there was no sound and the camera angles only gave you the top half of patrons' bodies, but Reese knew they weren't expecting ankle holsters or shoe bombs. Nobody in their right mind would spend a minute watching this – until Joss walked in.
She was mesmerizing.
Parting that crowd like a hot knife cutting through butter, every man had his eyes on her, and Reese knew that a wave of cocks were twitching as she passed by. Her sleek dress showed off her toned arms, full breasts and tiny waist. Her hair swung flirtatiously, her eyes were deep dark pools and her lips were smooth and inviting. She sat at the bar like she owned it, and that night she did.
Reese saw how she picked her target, but didn't approach him, her smile soft and open. Reese watched how the target watched her, watched how he decided to approach her, watched how he bought her a drink. Reese watched how she made his eyes light up, watched how she made him laugh, watched how she made him think that their meeting here tonight was special.
They looked good together, sleek and elegant and beautiful.
Reese wondered if the situation was reversed, if that man was the one in jail and he was the one at the bar, would he have approached her? He knew he would have noticed her right away, knew he would have wanted her, but would he have approached her? When she smiled, would he have taken the next step?
Reese had to give the guy credit – he didn't have to almost die first.
He didn't have to almost get her killed.
He watched as she slipped a sedative in the target's glass.
And Reese watched how when they left together, every man in the bar thought that guy was the luckiest bastard on earth.
He reloaded the first DVD.
XXX
He almost made it out the door when it hit him.
Reese had been in Joss' apartment twice before, when Finch was taken. The first time he had felt cast adrift, utterly rudderless – Finch was missing, Alicia Corwin was dead and Caroline Turling, AKA Root, had been revealed to be more cunning and diabolical than they ever could have imagined.
Even then, there was something about Joss' apartment that had kept a small part of him calm and able to think when the rest of him was panicking and wanted to lash out blindly.
When he went back the second time, Bear felt it too and quietly settled on the couch instead sniffing and wandering about the rooms as Reese expected.
It was because Joss's apartment was ordinary.
Completely ordinary.
There was nothing to indicate that she was anything other than a single working woman with a teenage son.
No medals, no awards, no citations, no photos of far off lands.
Sneakers in a basket by the door, mail stacked on a tray, a small whiteboard with appointments and a parent-teacher conference noted on it. A cup and spoon in a dish rack, a forgotten pair of men's gloves draped over an armrest, a Post It note marking a place in a novel selected for next month's book club meeting.
Not a crumbling old building.
Not a beautiful, yet sterile apartment.
Not a place where the inhabitants were two broken men and a Neo-Nazi's dog.
No, this place was ordinary, completely and utterly ordinary, and that was where its true power lay.
A place where people laughed, loved, argued, cried.
A place where people lived, rather than just existed.
A place where by hard work, determination and sheer force of will, a home had been created, despite everything she had experienced, despite everything she'd seen and was seeing, in war and in the city.
A place that was extraordinary, because it was so ordinary.
Sometimes the people they helped would ascribe superhero powers to himself and Finch, dazzled by his physical prowess and his friend's technical wizardry.
But the real superhero lived here and she was stronger and braver than them all put together.
Joss had given it all and what had he really given in return?
Reese closed his eyes as he realized how selfish he had been. From the very beginning, he had always wanted more from Joss than he had given back. He wanted her awareness, her knowledge, her intelligence, her counsel, her partnership, her friendship, her trust.
And what had he given her in return? A dangerous thankless sideline activity couched in smirks and smug replies.
Joss would say that it was her choice, but how could she resist the chance to balance the ledger against the carnage she saw every day – and he knew it.
She had only asked for one thing – where he and Finch got their information from – and he couldn't even give her that.
The white box on her bed now seemed like a mocking reminder of that denial.
And even after everything he had done, after he'd almost lost her everything, he still wanted more.
Now he wanted her heart.
Joss had already paid a terrible price for being his friend; what would she pay if things went any further between the two of them?
Donnelly was right. He had made his choice. And Joss had made hers.
Jocelyn Carter was an extraordinary person. But the most extraordinary thing about her was that she had been able to craft an ordinary life.
How could he even think about being with her?
He wouldn't.
XXX
Bear had found it first.
Reese was always amazed at how people accept things at face value – he and Kara were able to walk into corporations, embassies and private homes, because people assumed that they were a couple and therefore safe.
With Bear, the same rule applied. Reese could wander around anywhere in the city, at all hours of the night with a dog, and people would assume that he was just some poor schlub, taking the pooch out for a dump. Most of the time they didn't even notice him, they were so focused on greeting and petting Bear.
Reese often amused himself by imagining what garb he could wear – Elvis jumpsuit, sequined ball gown, buck naked – that would attract attention, but he knew that in New York, they'd seen it already. They'd take a quick glance and then go back to more pressing matters, like scratching Bear behind the ears.
One night he let Bear determine their path, so when the dog gave a soft bark and pulled him towards a narrow lane, Reese assumed it was another dumpster or an interesting pile of garbage bags, but instead it was a bookstore, called Cat and Mouse.
Bookstore was too simple a word for it – Cat and Mouse was what would have been referred to in the past as an emporium, a place full of things you didn't know you desperately wanted until you walked through the door.
As its name implied, its main focus was on mysteries, but they also had significant sections devoted to game theory, military strategy and espionage. Games, puzzles, toys, rooms set aside for chess club meetings and battlefield diorama competitions, a coffee shop and a bakery, they commanded one whole side of this narrow, cobblestoned street. By diversifying, they had managed to escape the fate of so many private booksellers done in by the chains and online behemoths.
Reese also knew that they sold some illegal items as well, especially in the area of surveillance, but who wasn't spying on one another these days?
But of course, Bear wasn't interested in the store because of that. Bear was interested in its full time occupants, Cat and Mouse.
Cat was a Macaw parrot and Mouse was Mouse the Third, a cat. Bear had noticed Mouse's glittering eyes in the darkness and wanted to investigate. A LCD screen in the large display window that was his home, noted Cat's previous feline companions over the past forty years.
Like many young men in love for the first time, Bear fell hard and fast for Mouse. She would exit Cat's lair thru a small door that only opened and closed via a signal from her collar and meet him at one of the building's entrances.
Mouse would stare intensely at Bear for long moments and playfully bat her paws at him against the glass. She would mimic his moves, tilting her head in unison with his, answer his soft bark with a silent meow of her own, sometimes even swish her tail in the same slow sweeping motion as his.
In those moments, she would appear to be as in love with Bear as he was with her, and perhaps she was.
But in the end, Mouse would return to her home with Cat. He would pull her tail in a silent rebuke, then run his beak gently along her spine. She would close her eyes and curl up beside him.
In the end, she was his and his alone.
Bear would sit there, waiting for her to walk back up to one of the doors and stare at him again, but eventually Reese would issue a command, and reluctantly Bear would turn away, but Reese knew that each time they visited the store, Bear hoped that this mystery would have a different ending.
XXX
Cat and Mouse was the address Reese had given Joss to meet him at, the first stop in his planned tour of the neighborhood. The morning rush had passed at the bakery and coffee shop and the bookstore wasn't open yet, so the street, its dark cobblestones shiny from last night's light rain, was empty.
Reese thought about the calm, rational lies he could tell Joss, all tinged with a ring of truth – he had taken advantage of her, they had to recover from everything that happened, she still had her relationship with Beecher to resolve, he had gone overboard and needed to slow down a bit –
But they all fled when he saw her.
And the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"I love you, Joss," he told her.
And then he left her, standing alone in the street, as he walked away.
XXX
Jesus.
To anybody else, Carter might have looked tired and a little out of sorts, but after working with her all these months, Fusco knew she was wrecked.
Damn, she just didn't get punched, she was pummeled.
He didn't comment when Carter showed up to work in the middle of her day off, just handed her the reports that he needed double-checked and she nodded at him gratefully.
Lionel wanted to kneecap Wonderboy himself, but he knew he had to stay out of it. Those two would either work it out or they wouldn't, but they had to do it on their own. They had to talk to each other.
When Reese called him the next morning with a request for information that he would usually ask Carter for, Fusco could hear the absolute deadness in his voice – there was no inflection, no feeling, as if those malfunctioning chips actually had been replaced.
And as the days went on, the silence between them got deeper and deeper.
Talk. Yeah. Right. Like they were going to do that, Lionel thought.
Nobody would say a word and they would act as if nothing had happened.
Until they exploded.
A/N: Next three men follow Joss, but she only follows one man. Things are starting to get messy.