I do not own Person of Interest or any characters you might recognize.
"Joss?"
God only knew how he managed to gasp her name when every ounce of breath had been stolen from his body the moment her beautiful face tilted to meet his.
The urge to touch her, hold her, pricked his numb flesh like a white-hot needle; but John found that his feet were firmly rooted to the ground in front of her headstone. His body felt unnaturally stiff, frozen in place as everything around him faded until only Joss remained, staring up at him with those expressive dark eyes that had haunted him day and night for the last two years.
Wave after relentless wave of emotion crashed over him at the sight of her, threatening to drag him under, yet he couldn't look away. Unspeakable joy hit him first, followed by staggering disbelief and a heart-stopping fear that he had finally lost his mind. Suspicion barged in next to caution him against letting his guard down too quickly, in case this turned out to be an elaborate CIA trap.
His head was spinning by the time a powerful surge of anger and betrayal crowded in with questions about where she'd been hiding all this time and why. But it was the tiny flicker of hope that his prayers were finally being answered, that overshadowed them all.
How was this possible?
John was afraid to ask that question out loud, afraid that if he examined this gift too closely Joss would be ripped away from him. He would not survive that. If this turned out to be another dream where she dissolved into thin air the second he touched her, leaving him to wake up alone, without her…
That terrifying thought was all the motivation his body needed to relax enough for him to take three shaky steps forward and close the gap between them. Instinctively he grabbed her by the shoulders, determined to prove to himself that she was not some fleeting delusion.
The feel of tender flesh and strong bone under his fingertips shoved him well past his breaking point. He couldn't breath, couldn't fight the maelström of emotions suffocating him. Hot tears of thanksgiving blurred her sweet face, but he furiously blinked them away, unwilling to let her go even for the second it would take to wipe them away.
"This - this is real?" John stammered while his hands squeezed her shoulders then skimmed over the soft wool of her coat to stroke the warm skin peeking out above her scarf and the rapidly beating pulse there. His fingers brushed the delicate line of her jaw before tunneling through her short hair to cradle her face between his palms. "You're really here?"
If not he refused to wake up.
His hungry gaze roamed over her features while his thumbs followed the same path at a more leisurely pace. He lovingly traced the arch of her brow, the rounded apple of her cheek, the fullness of her lips. Each lazy sweep of his thumb across her velvety skin burned him; and judging by the hitch in her breathing, Joss was feeling just as branded by the touch. It was all too much, yet not nearly enough.
"I am real John," she whispered around a tremulous smile. A spate of tears fell when she raised her small hands to cover his and lean into his caress. Her lips grazed the heel of his palm when she spoke again. "I'm real and I'm finally home."
His eyes slammed shut as her voice, so dulcet and warm, washed over him. Every scrape of her mouth across this skin added to the avalanche of sensation shuddering through him. John felt as though he were falling through a long dark tunnel, with no idea when he might hit solid ground again.
"How…how is this…" He tried, but couldn't speak around the catch in his throat. It didn't matter though. The obvious questions continued to pelt him, but he honestly he didn't care. The nightmare was finally over. By some miracle Joss was here, in his arms and he was not going to debate the how and why of it now.
Joss was alive!
A fresh burst of joy flooded through him as the heartbreak and sorrow of the last two years melted away. He wanted to laugh, cry, run through the city and shout the news from the highest rooftop. He wanted to fall to his knees and offer prayers of thanks for this unexpected second chance, yet he couldn't pry himself away from her. The very idea of letting her go had him holding on even tighter.
Drawing in what he hoped would be a calming breath, he smoothed one hand down her side to pull her into a crushing hug when he reached her slender waist. Joss immediately sank into him, her arms wrapping around his middle to squeeze him with the same intensity. John sifted his fingers through the silken weight of her hair and cupped her head to his chest before pressing a kiss against the top. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity, soaking in the feel of her heart beating steadily in time with his own.
Home. Joss was finally home. His shoulders began to shake under the force of sobs that were begging to be released. When the first harsh pant escaped past the emotion clogging his throat, John rested his cheek on the top of her head and gave in to the urge to cry.
"I came back as soon as I could," she sniffled against his coat after several quiet moments. He felt her shift in his arms, and drew back just enough to angle her face up to his. "Please believe me John; I came back as soon as I could."
"Came back?" Where had she been hiding all this time? Why had she been hiding all this time?
His first instinct was to push her hard for answers, to dust off his CIA playbook and ply her with the interrogation techniques he'd perfected until she told him everything wanted to know; but he couldn't bring himself to do that. One look at Joss was all it took to drain the fight out of him. She seemed so small tucked against his chest, so vulnerable with her bottom lip caught between her teeth and tears sparkling in her eyes. Her bright gaze was pleading for understanding, begging for absolution.
He didn't think beyond that, just lowered his mouth to hers with a harsh groan, seeking to comfort Joss as much as himself. The arm circling her waist cinched tighter, the hand tangled in her hair gently tugged on a fistful of sable locks to ease her head back and bring her mouth more fully against his.
She felt so damn good pressed up against him, smelling of fresh flowers and sunshine. Every lush curve of her body was aligned perfectly with the hard planes of his; but he needed more. More skin to skin contact, more proof that he had not simply died and gone to heaven, more Joss.
The last vestiges of his restraint fell away in tatters when she rose up on her toes with a whimper to eagerly meet his kiss. John slanted his lips roughly across hers, boldly coaxing her mouth open with an insistent pressure. He was a starving man, desperate for a taste of her. A low growl of relief rumbled through his chest when she readily yielded.
His tongue swept through her mouth with deep, demanding strokes, intent on exploring, claiming, devouring. The first painfully familiar taste of her nearly drove him to his knees, and he clutched her tighter to him. Salt from her tears mixed with the honeyed-sweetness he had only sampled that last night, and a need that was as clawing as his own.
Splashes of icy rain dripped down the back of his neck, but the chilly intrusion was the furthest thing from his mind when Joss released her death grip on his lapels to slide her hands up his neck and cup his bearded jaw. Her tongue circled his, fighting hard for control even though she had already won the battle. This was one time he would gladly surrender to her will.
A raw north wind whipped across the open field to buffet them with it a mix of freezing drizzle and sleet that was impossible to ignore. John wrenched his mouth from hers with a frustrated moan. Breathing hard, he touched his forehead to hers while he tried - unsuccessfully - to get his unruly heartbeat under control.
What the hell was he doing? They were standing out in the open, oblivious to more than just the snowstorm rolling in, making Joss an easy target for anyone looking to hurt her. A second shot of icy air brought him back to his senses long enough to realize he needed to get her to some place safe. He would be damned if he let anyone take her away from him again.
"Let's go home," John murmured when he trusted himself to speak. Joss quickly nodded in agreement, her cold nose nuzzling his.
With one arm slung low on her waist, John led the way to his car parked at the curb; but stopped after only a few steps when she stumbled beside him and clutched at his arm to keep her balance. "No, God please," he prayed in alarm. His eyes raked over her body from head to toe for any sign of injury. He couldn't lose her, not after he'd just found her.
"I'm fine," she smiled up at him. It was obvious she was in pain, but stubborn woman that she was, Joss took another wobbly step forward, biting down on her lower lip when she put weight on her right foot. "I just twisted my ankle earlier this week."
Earlier this week? When? Where? What happened? Those three words brought all the questions lounging on the back burner to the forefront again. He needed answers - and he would definitely get them - but more importantly he need to get her to a safer location.
John moved to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the car when she speared him with a look that all but screamed "don't even think about it". He almost laughed out loud at the glimpse of the Joss he knew, and settled for tucking her to his side to half-carry her the rest of the way, not sparing the empty grave behind them a second glance.
The uneven rhythm of sleet pelting the windows competed with the drone of the car's heater to fill the silence as they wound their way through the slick side streets.
Neither of them had spoken since leaving the cemetery almost fifteen minutes ago, yet the quiet didn't bother Joss. There were plenty of hard questions left for her to answer, but for now, she needed to catch her breath and process every thing that had happened in the last half hour.
She sank back into the plush leather seat and tried to suppress the shiver creeping up her spine, this one brought on by memories of her unplanned reunion with John rather than the icy rain that had soaked through her layers of clothing.
For as long as she lived, Joss didn't think she would ever forget that heart-stopping meeting. One minute she was chastising herself for being a coward and getting up to leave and make her way out to Newburgh again - the time of day be damned - and the next she was jumping out of her skin at the sight of John towering over her.
To say she was surprised would be an understatement. John Reese was the last person she had expected to run into this morning, and if her heart hadn't been firmly lodged in her throat she might have managed to do more than let out a startled yelp. As it was, her entire body had shut down. Uncertainty kept her immobile while she waited for him to make the first move, a myriad of emotions - many that were echoes of her own - playing out on his pale face.
Joss turned her head a fraction to sneak another peek at him from under her lashes. The whole thing had gone far better than she had ever dreamed it might. He had not rejected her like she had feared, or pressured her for an explanation right then and there. Instead he had been understandably stunned, yet overjoyed to see her if that kiss meant anything.
"New topic," she ordered herself. If she let her thoughts linger on that particular detail much longer she just might force him to pull over and finish what they started; and John was having enough trouble keeping his eyes on the road as it was. Besides that was just a heat of the moment kind of thing. A lot could have changed during the last two years…
Okay definitely time to find a new topic, something safe that wouldn't make her want to pull her hair out, something harmless like the weather. Yeah, that rain had moved in earlier than predicted ….not that she had felt a drop of it after John wrapped his solid body protectively around hers…or when he deepened the kiss and she tasted the faintest hint of whiskey…
"Great job there Joss," she scolded herself. "That worked like a charm."
A tiny huff of frustration escaped as she gingerly rolled her right foot, stretching her sore ankle against the cushioned lining of her boot. The pain had subsided enough to be more of an annoyance now than the distraction she was hoping for.
Well fine, there were plenty of other ways to pass the time while they made their way to wherever it was John was taking her. She craned her neck to stare out the frosty window again, but her mind - in a fit of gleeful disobedience - was too busy replaying that breathtaking kiss for her to truly notice the city's early birds scurrying by under a sea of dark umbrellas.
There was no point in fighting it any longer. Two years apart had not weakened the connection between them, and now that they were near each other again it refused to be ignored. She flicked her gaze back to John to study his angular profile - the hard, determined line of his jaw hidden by a well-kept beard, his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and slightly crooked nose. There was a touch more salt than pepper in his hair now; but as much as her fingers itched to run through it, her focus kept drifting back to his soft, warm mouth, recalling how it had moved over hers with such a frantic urgency. She swore she could still feel his lips pressed to hers.
A fierce blush climbed high in her cheeks when she remembered her own feverish response. She had clutched at him like a drowning woman would a life-preserver, not caring about anything or anyone else in that moment. Stopping had been the last thing on her mind.
Joss raised a hand to her tingling lips, but paused when she realized what she was doing. She let it drop back to her lap and shifted her attention back to the man behind the wheel.
How could she have forgotten how tall he was? How deep his voice was? How amazing his cologne smelled when it mixed with the heat from his skin? Warmth was finally returning to his olive-toned complexion to emphasize his rugged good looks; but that was tempered by a not-so-subtle hardness about him. He seemed rougher around the edges than she remembered. There was an intensity in his bright blue eyes now…
Bright blue eyes that she belatedly realized were staring back at her.
John muttered under his breath - curse or prayer she couldn't tell - and swerved to bypass a taxi slowing for a passenger, cutting off a city bus in his haste. She reached for him at the same time his right hand abandoned the steering wheel to search out hers.
As the car careened around another corner in a hard left turn, she pressed his hand to her cheek before settling it in her lap. It was nice to know that her ice-cold vigilante was just as flustered as she was.
A few more hairpin turns brought them to a startlingly familiar building - John's loft. Joss couldn't explain her surprise or the tears that gathered when he pulled into the underground parking structure. The fact he still lived there was oddly comforting, and made her feel like she was truly home, more so than when her plane had touched down at La Guardia yesterday.
The ride in the elevator was short and also made in silence. John stood next to her, one hand hovering at the small of her back while the other fished in his pocket for the key. She leaned wearily against the door jamb, studying the hallway's new carpeting until he opened the door and stepped aside to let her in…
Joss squinted and strained to see while her eyes adjusted to the darkness, not truly believing what her other senses were telling her. Stark white canvas tarps covered the furniture, and blinds that had never been used before were now closed tight. A fine layer of dust coated the wooden floors and exposed countertops, and other than the muffled thump of her boots as she stepped deeper inside, the loft was eerily quiet - even the persistent clink of sleet pellets and noise from the traffic below seemed to know not to disturb this place.
There were no traces of the man who lived there, almost as if someone had deliberately tried to erase every sign of life they could find. What had once felt cozy and welcoming was now cold, desolate…dead.
Joss rubbed her upper arms to offset the chill seeping through to her bones that was caused in part by her damp coat and the lack of heat, but more by the state of his apartment and what it implied. "You fire your decorator John?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood a little.
"Something like that," he offered with a tiny smirk. John angled back to flip a switch on the wall and flood the apartment with a warm glow. "At least that still works."
It was obvious no one had lived there for quite some time, and her heart sank when she imagined the various places he might have ended up over the last twenty-three and a half months.
"Where have you been staying?" she asked, though not sure she really wanted to know the answer. "God please don't let it be the streets again." Surely Finch would not have allowed that; yet she was all too aware of how mulish John could be when he put his mind to it…or when he was drinking.
"Here and there," he mumbled, looking everywhere but at her. "I could ask you the same thing Joss."
That time she heard the bite of censure in his voice. She opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut. Where in the world did she start? Joss licked her lips nervously and tried again, but John beat her to it.
"I'm going to turn the heat on." He pointed over his shoulder to the thermostat behind him, yet made no move towards it.
"I'll be here," she rushed to assure him.
Running away was not an option, it hadn't been even before she had set foot in the cemetery this morning. Seeing the thoroughness of the FBI's lie firsthand had delivered a crippling blow to her resolve, but she was more determined than ever to reclaim the life she had put on hold to dismantle HR. Her promise was enough, and John turned to take the stairs two at a time to the loft's upper level.
Joss trailed her fingers over a coarse slipcover as she wandered past the sofa to find the button that would raise the shades. The slight whir of the motor cut through the silence, and was soon joined by the steady plop of sleet and an occasional honk from the street when the blinds were completely tucked away.
She stood in front of the bank of windows looking out over the park next door and the city beyond. Trees and lampposts glistened with a slick coating of ice, and dark clouds obscured any hint of sunlight making it feel more like late evening than early morning.
The urge to pinch herself and prove this wasn't a dream was stronger than it had been yesterday. The countless nights she had spent imagining what her homecoming would be like had not prepared her for the real thing. Not everything was working out like she had planned - hell nothing was working out like she had planned.
Joss turned away from the view as she removed her damp coat and draped it across the coffee table before grabbing a fistful of the canvas tarp protecting the leather couch. As she yanked it off, something tumbled from the cushions to land on the floor next to her feet. Curious, she bent to pick it up, almost laughing out loud when realized what she was holding. Memories of her last visit before her 'death' came flooding back.
Early November 2013
"You know, I've been thinking." Joss curled her feet underneath her and leaned back against the sofa cushion to wait for a response - one she could almost guarantee would be nothing more than a distracted grunt.
"Uh-huh."
Great. The one time John decided to be predictable. He had lured her to his loft with the promise of homemade lasagna and carrot cake for dessert; but so far the only food he had offered her was a handful of stale chips.
Her growling stomach aside, she really did want his full attention for at least a few minutes. Tonight she planned on telling him about the evidence she'd collected against HR and asking for his help in bringing them to justice. What she had not planned on was the Rangers - Flyers game going in to double overtime.
"Yeah," she spoke up. "I've decided to quit the force and become a swimsuit model."
No reply for one heartbeat, two, then - "Okay, I'll let Finch know." His eyes remained glued to the flat screen set, following the puck as it passed from one player to the next.
Joss rolled her eyes even as a smile quirked at her lips. This was partly her fault. John was a sports fanatic - hockey, football, basketball, curling, anything that involved guys sweating it out in competition. She should know better than to try talking to him when a game was on, especially since he didn't get to watch them live very often; but she was tired of waiting for the commercials to snag thirty seconds of his attention. Besides, she was hungry!
"Thanks," she muttered dryly. "I also think it's time to give Taylor up for adoption."
"Mmm, good idea." This time one hand flailed out in her direction, floundering through the space between them until it landed on her knee with an absentminded pat.
Fine. She didn't want to do this, but it was time to pull out the big guns. "I can't afford to keep him anymore. You see I'm…pregnant…the baby is yours."
Joss slowly lowered her feet to the hardwood floor, ready to make a run for it when her words finally penetrated the fog wrapped around him, but there was no need. The announcers started yelling over each other, calling out a frenzied play by play as the Rangers skated towards the goal with the Flyers in hot pursuit.
"Yeah yeah, whatever you want honey," he mumbled, half rising off the couch with his hands out, ready to swipe the puck into the net if New York's defensemen couldn't get it done.
Honey? That was new. Her cheeks started to warm under the pleased flush sweeping through her at the endearment. She had never been one for pet names, but this one had a nice ring to it.
"Oh come on!" His frustrated yelp startled her out of her own haze. She glanced at John who was slapping his hands together over another blown goal. He fell back to the couch, but just as quickly was back to his crouched position as the Ranger's center slammed the Flyers left-wing into the boards to battle for control of the puck.
Joss sank into the leather cushion with a defeated sigh. She wasn't going to get John's attention tonight anymore than she was going to get that dinner he promised her. Pizza would be a poor substitute for his lasagna, but this would give them a chance to try the new place around the corner. Maybe the game would be over by the time she got back and she could catch his attention before Sports Center started.
She glanced at the end table next to her, then the coffee table trying to remember where she laid her phone down when she saw it. A devious idea popped into her head, but did she dare? Guys were sensitive about that sort of thing.
After ten seconds of debate, 'Bad Joss' won out.
Careful not to draw any attention to herself, she leaned forward and snagged the remote control off the coffee table. The two teams were still battling it out in front of the Flyers net, the game was tied at two each, and there were only seconds left to play. She really would love to see who would win, but…
She pressed the button and the screen went dark.
John blinked several times then cocked his head to the side to stare at the TV with the same confused look Bear got when she hid his favorite squeaky toy. Joss would have found it hilarious - secretly she did - if he had not turned those silvery blue eyes of his on her.
"Carter," he growled. To anyone else the warning would have sounded threatening, yet Joss could plainly hear the notes of playfulness in that rumble.
Her best bet would be to turn the game back on and plead for mercy…but when had she ever taken the easy way out? Seconds before he reached for her, she bolted off the couch and circled the oversized chair and ottoman - twice - before making a break for the kitchen. She couldn't stop a fit of giggles from bubbling out when she heard his steps approaching fast behind her.
She made it to the kitchen and the back side of the island before realizing she was trapped. Joss whirled to face the door with a breathless laugh just as John slid to a stop on the other side of the counter, a wicked gleam deepening his eyes to a spectacular ocean blue.
"Give me the remote Carter and no one gets hurt." When he shuffled to the left, she shuffled to the right, making sure to keep an equal amount of space between them.
"It was an accident John." She bit at her bottom lip to hide the goofy grin breaking out and side-stepped to her right when he dodged again. "Honest."
"Haven't you learned by now not to lie to me Joss?"
Oh God, he was using that voice on her. That soft lilt that was part seduction, part caress and all male; the one that made her weak in the knees every time she heard it…damn she was in trouble. When he caught up to her - and she was going to let him catch her eventually - she had no doubt John would make her pay.
And she was looking forward to every minute of it.
Blame it on the loft's cozy lighting, the grueling work week she'd just wrapped up, or the change in their relationship during recent weeks - whatever it was, Joss couldn't help but be drawn to John tonight. He was impossibly handsome as always in a pair of faded jeans and a dark gray t-shirt, the muscles in his arms and chest straining against the material, hair slightly askew and a sexy five o'clock shadow darkening his strong jaw line; but there was more to it than that. Tonight she felt like she was seeing more of the real John Reese than she ever had before, the teasing, charming, loveable man he was when the walls were down. And she liked him - a lot.
Belatedly Joss noticed he was inching his way down the island, and she countered the move a split second too late.
"Lie? Me?" She danced just out of his reach, answering his question with one of her own. "Don't you trust your partner John?"
Not giving him a chance to respond, she suddenly lunged to her left, then back to her right before scampering out of the kitchen leaving him to scramble after her.
John's long legs quickly ate up any distance she had managed to put between them; and Joss could feel the heat from his body at her back as they rounded the corner of the living room. In a last-ditch effort to save herself, she tossed the remote on the couch then looped back towards the far side of the loft and his king size bed.
He didn't even stop to take the bait, just dashed past the couch to overtake her seconds later. One powerfully built arm wrapped around her waist while the other encircled her shoulders and hauled her into the wall of his chest.
"Gotcha," he murmured in her ear.
"Wait," she giggled. "I'm sure we can talk about this like reasonable adults." Joss halfheartedly struggled against his hold, which only served to drive her deeper into his arms - right where she wanted to be.
"Oh we have a lot to talk about Joss, like Taylor's pending adoption." His thumb drifted lazily across the bare skin of her hip where her sweatshirt had ridden up. "Your new career as a swimsuit model."
So he had been paying attention - the cad.
"Or how you're pregnant with my child when we haven't even made love…yet."
Her eyes slid shut when John's warm breath grazed the sensitive skin of her neck. His mouth continued to linger over her rapidly beating pulse, robbing her of the ability to form a witty comeback. She raised both hands to clutch the arm draped across her collarbone and steady herself before she melted into a puddle at his feet.
"But first," he continued, sliding his large palm across her exposed midriff, "we have a more serious issue to deal with - the theft of my remote control."
"Hmm?" This time she was the distracted one, and it was most definitely his fault. Joss stretched against him and had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard body molded so completely to hers. She could feel the wild thud of his heartbeat at her back, and knew he wasn't as unaffected as his smooth tone let on.
"As an officer of the law, you of all people should know what the penalty is for such a heinous crime."
"I'm sorry John. I promise it will never happen again." Every nerve ending in her body tingled, keyed up and anticipating the moment he would press his lips more firmly to her heated skin. She craned her neck in an unspoken invitation. "Surely you could let me off with a warning?"
"Now Joss," he chuckled, nuzzling his nose down the line of her neck. "How would you ever learn your lesson if I did that?"
"Oh lesson learned, believe me," she gasped. "Maybe we can work out a deal?"
She would play along with the game for now, but she didn't really want to stop. John had unknowingly awakened something in her that had been locked away since her ex-husband walked out on her and Taylor all those years ago. He respected her, made her feel safe, cherished, desirable. Their friendship meant too much to her to gamble it away; but now she was beginning to think it might be worth the risk.
The arm around her waist shifted her slightly to keep her anchored firmly against him. "That is a tempting offer - and later I would love to hear what you have in mind - but this offense can't go unpunished."
His lips ghosted back up the column of her neck to rest near a particularly ticklish spot under her ear. "I know a guy who knows a guy that could get you tickets for the next home game," she laughed.
"Yeah I know Finch too." Joss could feel the knave smirking against her skin. "Bribery won't work my dear. A man can be critically injured - fatally even - if his viewing of a key fourth quarter play is interrupted." His sigh of regret didn't fool her. "I'm afraid there's no room for leniency. You'll have to serve out the full sentence."
Well hell, when he said it like that the ruling sounded much more sensual than sinister.
"Can you handle that Carter?" John's fingers lightly massaged the skin above the waistband of her jeans while he waited for her answer.
Joss knew he was leaving the choice up to her as to how far they would take things tonight. He was giving her a chance to say no, to change her mind, to walk away and continue dancing around the attraction arcing between them with their friendship safe for another day.
His stubbled cheek scraped hers when she turned her head slightly. "Joss?"
"Joss?" His raspy voice yanked her back to the present.
Real life was intruding now, much like it had then when a phone call from Harold interrupted their heated moment. She never got the chance to answer John's question, never got the chance to ask for his help until it was too late. Her determination to bring down HR had taken over and taken her away from everyone she loved for almost two years.
How different would her life be, what would they all be doing now if she had reached out to John sooner? Joss dropped the remote on the coffee table beside her jacket and turned to face him with a strained, yet sincere, smile.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good, just taking it all in," she hedged, then jutted her chin towards the hand hanging at his side. "What's that?"
John glanced down, then at her and held out a blanket she instantly recognized. It was the dark red fleece they had picnicked on while tailing a sweet little old grandma turned black widow through Central Park. "Found this upstairs. Thought it might help until the heater kicks on."
"Thank you." Joss accepted the soft bundle, her hands brushing his. Emboldened by his earlier response to her, she quickly grabbed his wrist and led him to the sofa to sit beside her.
She draped the blanket around her shoulders and willingly curled in to his side when he tugged her close, needing the intimate contact as much as he seemed to.
"I've missed you." The soft admission slipped out in the comfortable silence that surrounded them.
"I've missed you Joss," his voice cracked with emotion. John cupped her cheek in his palm and lowered his head to hers. "More than you will ever know," he murmured against her lips.
His mouth brushed across hers slowly, in maddeningly tender strokes. Each scrape of his full beard against her skin sent a hot current of pleasure rushing through her veins, urging her to touch any part of him she could reach - the muscled breadth of his chest, his broad shoulders, his bearded jaw.
Her heart swelled with love and a longing that had been denied for far too long; but all too soon it was over. John released her and fell back against the leather cushion with an uneven sigh.
Joss opened her eyes to meet his and knew it was time. The tough questions of 'how' and 'why' were written all over his face, and they would not be put off any longer.
Seeking to lighten the moment, she ran her fingertips over his whiskered chin one more time. "I never thought I would see this look again," she teased.
A brief smile tilted his lips then faltered around the unshed tears gathering. His bright eyes traced the contours of her face in an almost palpable caress before he reached out to tuck a damp curl behind her ear. "And I never thought I would see you again."
The heater rumbled to life upstairs, but she was too consumed by the sensation of John's fingers stroking the curve of her cheek to notice the noise or the rush of warmth stealing through the loft.
"If I had known…" He swallowed hard and closed his eyes before searching her face again. "How is this possible?" he asked gruffly. "Where have you been?"
The raw pain marring his features struck her hard, a painful reminder that she was not the only one who had suffered over the last two years. "It's a long story."
"We've got time Joss." His hand slid down to her shoulder, then her arm to grasp the hand clutching his black dress shirt. "Tell me."
His pleading whisper dissolved any remaining hesitation she might have offered.
"I don't know where to start," she confessed. The beginning obviously, but some of the details from that time were so damn hazy it was hard to know what had happened and what was part of her feverish imaginings. Joss clamped her lips together then plunged in. "Honestly I can't remember much after…." She floundered, finding it hard to say the words -"after I died"
John seemed to understand and squeezed her in encouragement. "When I finally came to I was in a federal hospital of some sort, surrounded by doctors and a team of FBI agents."
Joss blew out a rough breath as memories of from that awful day washed over her. She had been scared, disoriented, cut off from her family, and so weak she couldn't put up much of a fight.
"The agent in charge offered to place me in witness protection until HR was brought down. I refused and pushed back as hard as I could, but he told me that Special Agent Moss had already signed off on the paperwork. Final arrangements had been made for my new identity; all that was needed was clearance from my doctor to travel."
She tried to catch John's down turned gaze, but he wouldn't look at her. His eyes were focused on their clasped hands, yet she could tell he was listening intently to every word.
"I would have contacted you if it was at all possible; but the FBI had confiscated my cell phone along with the rest of my belongings. Even the landline in my room had been taken out." Joss tried hard to ignore the panic that lashed at her when he dropped his hold on her hand.
"Later that night I found out from one of the agents guarding my room that more than a week had passed since the shooting. She wouldn't say much more than that, just that the Bureau told my family I was dead, and everybody believed it...especially after the funeral service that morning."
A faint rumble of thunder rattled the window and the sleet began to fall harder. John dragged in a deep breath and turned his head to stare at some indistinct point across the room. Her heart constricted when a lone tear rolled down his cheek followed quickly by a second. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but the muscles clenching in his jaw stayed her. Instead, she swallowed down the emotions stuck in her throat and continued.
"Agent Moss came by the next day and asked me to work with their task force just long enough to bring HR down for good. He promised me the FBI would protect my family in exchange for my testimony and the evidence I had already collected -"
"I would have protected you and your family Joss," John interrupted. His eyes snapped back to hers, anger changing them to a shivery baby blue. "With my life if necessary."
That claim brought up the frightening memories of John falling under Simmons's gun that night. She was already responsible for getting him shot once, if he had been hurt again - or killed - because of her... The thought of losing him turned her fear into frustration and propelled her to her feet. She paced to the window nearest the couch, the blanket slipping low around her shoulders as she looked out over the frosted cityscape.
"I know you would have and that's exactly what I was afraid of. Simmons shot you John, he almost killed you," Joss said without turning to face him. "I couldn't lose you," she finished softly.
"And you think I could handle losing you?" Fury laced the question, and even though she knew it was deserved on some level, it still stung. Couldn't he see that her disappearance was for the best?
"I did what was necessary to keep you - to keep everyone I cared about - safe. It was easier that way." Joss didn't need to turn around to know John was off the couch and standing behind her. The heat from his large body enveloped her and chased away some of the shivers running up her spine.
"Easier for who Carter?" he snarled. His long fingers bit into her shoulders as he whirled her around to face him. "Easier for Shaw to lose one of the few friends she had in this world? Or for Harold to feel like it was his fault, like he had failed to protect one of his friends?"
Joss opened her mouth to defend her decision, but John spoke over her.
"Surely you don't think it was easier for your mom to bury her only child and raise her grandson alone? Or for Taylor - your son - to face the rest of his life without his mom by his side?"
The intensity coloring his accusations took her aback. Of course she had thought about those things, she had spent hours agonizing over the decision. She had known it would be difficult on everyone left behind, but she also knew it would be temporary, that one day she would return and the threat would be gone. She had done the right thing…hadn't she?
Damn him for feeding those doubts that had lingered for two long years.
"Was it easier for me Joss?" His voice dropped to dangerously low whisper. "Easier for me to live with the memory of you bleeding to death in my arms? To live with the loss of my best friend, the woman I -"
Loved.
John didn't have to finish, she knew exactly what he was going to say. He couldn't live with her death, anymore than she could live with the loss of the man she loved.
"I was doing what I thought was best," she growled back.
God, how could he not see how difficult this choice had been for her. How could she make him understand how miserable the last 430 days were for her? It had not been easy for her family and friends; but life with the FBI hadn't exactly been a cakewalk for her either.
Joss pushed against the doubts plaguing her, the fears that caused her to second-guess every move she made. Had she fought as hard as she could? Should she have made more of an effort to reach out to John? There were definitely times she could have contacted him without Ben or anyone else finding out, but she was too scared to risk it.
After her first close call in Fallujah, she was just thankful to be alive. Life looked fresh, clean, and full of possibilities. She had beaten the odds and survived, she was one of the lucky ones that made it home.
She had felt that same sweeping sense of gratitude lying in her hospital bed after her emergency c-section; but was too focused on caring for an infant and holding her crumbling marriage together to give it much more thought than that.
But after Simmons shot her, it was like a switch flipped inside of her. Hell she had died on the operating table. The surgical team had managed to bring her back; but it was a sobering experience, one that had left more than just physical scars. Instead of looking at this as a third chance at life, she had started to feel like she was not supposed to be here, that her survival had been a mistake. She had always believed that when your time was up, it was up. Her number had been up that night…yet she was still here. Why?
"Yeah, well you were wrong." John roughly released her and walked away.
Oh no, they were not going to leave it at that. "Was I?" Joss called after him. "Simmons got away."
"He didn't get far."
No he hadn't. Curiosity had gotten the better of her one late winter night and she had swiped the case file out of Ben's briefcase to read the gruesome details. John had made sure Simmons and Quinn paid for her death - dearly.
"He shot you," she countered. "And you saw what they did to Fusco. Simmons was going to kill his little boy John; and he wouldn't have hesitated to kill my son either. I couldn't take the chance that Taylor or anyone else I loved might get hurt because of the fight I picked with HR."
For a moment Joss wondered if John had heard her or the awkward admission she had not intended to make so soon. He had moved to stand next to the slipcovered breakfast table with his back to her and his head bowed.
"I would have died before letting anyone hurt Taylor or you." His hoarse reply was tinged with pain and traces of disappointment and vulnerability. A cold sense of despair washed over her. Some how she needed to make John understand why she had made the choices she had.
"You once told me I had too much to lose, and you were right. But you need to know that you're included in that John." She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose then released it slowly through her mouth. "I did what I thought was best to protect Taylor, my mom, and you, because I couldn't lose you either."
Joss opened her eyes to watch the muscles along his shoulders bunch under his dress shirt at the reminder of that hallway conversation. She took an involuntary step forward, feeling helpless and wanting to ease the tension settling there.
"Even though I didn't ask for or need your protection?" John let out a mirthless laugh and turned his head slightly to give her a view of his strained profile. "Why didn't you at least call me? Let me know you were alright?"
"It was too dangerous." His light blue eyes finally cut to her, and the disdain shining in them made her flinch.
"They almost found me once," she said faintly, without as much heat as before. "I couldn't risk it."
"Found you where?" He ground out the question before the words had fully left her mouth.
"After I was medically cleared for travel the FBI did what they could to alter my appearance, and then relocated me to a small apartment in Phoenix. Once it became clear HR wasn't going down without a fight, and that I would be in Witness Security longer than anticipated, my handler helped me get a job as a civilian secretary with the Glendale Police Department to maintain my cover."
It had taken months to get comfortable 'hiding in plain sight'; and even after she had, Joss refused to let her guard down with the other auxiliary staff members and officers. Any one of the men and women she worked with at GPD could have been tied to HR or another corrupt gang of cops; and she would not do anything that would jeopardize her chances of getting home to her family - even if that meant being rude to someone who was overly friendly and being called names like 'ice queen' or 'frigid bitch' behind her back.
"Late last year there was a security breach at the FBI's New York office. Part of the information that was stolen contained files with the names, aliases, and locations of witnesses that were in protective custody." Joss recalled the tiny spark of hope that had flared up when Moss told her about the break in. Her first thought was that Harold and John had finally figured out the truth and were looking for her, but then… "HR's hit man tracked me as far as Mesa before the Bureau caught up to him. He took three good agents down with him."
John said nothing, but the hands resting on the table fisted the drop cloth in a white knuckled grip.
"Would you have stayed away John?" she pressed. They both knew the answer already, but he had the good grace to own up to it.
"No. I would have come after you to make sure you were safe and bring you home."
"Exactly. And if you had HR might have followed you and we both could have been killed."
"Or you could have trusted me Carter, instead of lying to the people you supposedly love, and we both would have survived," he snapped.
Joss steepled her hands as if in prayer and held them to her lips, silently begging him to see her side of things.
"You were needed here in New York John, taking down HR and helping Finch save his numbers. I needed you here, watching over Taylor for me until I was free to come home."
He shot her a derisive look over his shoulder then turned his back on her. John's unspoken rejection battered her already wounded pride. She tried to mitigate the sting by telling herself he just needed time to adjust and get over the shock. Maybe in a couple of weeks…or months…he would be willing to talk to her again.
Joss removed the blanket from her shoulders and laid it on the coffee table before picking up her partially dried coat. She wasn't ready to leave, but it was probably for the best. If she stayed, they might say things they would regret later. Besides, she needed to head out to Newburgh before the weather got any worse.
"I know this is a lot to take in." Joss ran her tongue across her bottom lip then clamped them together as she shrugged on her coat and grabbed her purse. "And I'll understand if you don't want to see me again."
That would break her heart, but she was a big girl. She had been fine on her own long before John Reese showed up, and would continue to be fine no matter what he decided. If he needed time to cool down and figure things out the least she could do was give that to him. She owed him that much, in fact Joss couldn't say she would react any differently if their positions were reversed.
She squared her shoulders and headed for the door, determined not to look back or beg him to go with her; but she didn't even make it ten steps before John's arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close and halting any forward progress.
"Where are you going Joss?" he whispered against her temple.
"I want to see my son and my mother. I need to leave before the weather turns bad." Maybe he would let her borrow one of Finch's cars - if she could work up the nerve to ask him.
"Most of the roads out of the city are already icing up. It's too dangerous," he argued.
"I've driven through ice and snow before. If I head out now I can make it before things get worse." Although she said she was leaving Joss made no move to leave the safe haven of his embrace.
"I can't let you do that." His arms tightened around her as if to prove his point.
"I'll be fine John."
"The roads and the weather are only part of it Joss. We believe you are in danger… the machine gave us your number yesterday."
"In danger?" So he did know she was alive and in the city. Well she would be ready if the fool decided to try anything. "HR is dead, and no one else outside of the FBI and you knows that I'm back in town. Who could possibly want me dead?"
John spun her to face him but kept one arm around her hips to hold her close. "I think I should be asking you that question. Up until two hours ago I didn't even know you were alive."
Joss watched the tug of war between anger and affection playing out across his gorgeous face. He was furious over the deception of the last two years as she had feared he might be; but those feelings they had started exploring back then were there as well.
Until they were on more solid footing, she would keep her troubles to herself. There was no need to worry John over something she could handle by herself and would probably never happen.
"Maybe your machine is malfunctioning again." she fudged. "Or maybe it likes me and wanted you guys to know that I was alive."
"Or it could be a real threat. Either way I'm not taking any chances." John's blue eyes narrowed in thought, as though weighing his options. "You'll stay here with me for now."
The presumptuous command rankled her. Suddenly his hold felt more constricting than comforting. While it was touching that he wanted to protect her after all that had happened between them, she was not ready to trade one lock and key for another. She shook her head and started to refuse.
"John I can -"
"Don't," he cut her off. "Don't fight me on this Carter."
Joss opened her mouth to argue, but closed it just as quickly. One look at his firm jaw and stormy eyes told her it would be pointless. This was not her John. The man in front of her was the ruthless enforcer, vigilant guardian. He wouldn't be talked out of something once his mind was made up. Yet…
She saw the glimmer of fear flicker across his face before his warrior's mask slipped completely in place, and her stubborn heart softened a little more. Damn it, she didn't want to give in so easily, but she also didn't want to cause him more pain than she already had.
Fine, she would stay with him - temporarily. It would only be a few days at the most, and then she could go back to building her new life.
"Okay." Joss glanced down at her hand resting on his chest, then back up into his eyes as she surrendered. "I'll stay."
The wave of panic that had engulfed him at her initial refusal gradually ebbed with that quiet promise. She had agreed to stay with him and he was not about to let her out of his sight, not even after the danger had passed.
John looked into her sweet, upturned face and steeled himself for the now familiar rush of disbelief that crashed over him every time their eyes met. More than an hour had passed since Joss had seemingly materialized out of thin air; yet he found it nearly impossible to wrap his mind around the fact that she was alive and in his arms.
Impulsively he reached out to touch her cheek, caressing the velvety softness before weaving his fingers through her hair. It was taking every ounce of willpower he possessed to ignore the urge to carry her to his bed and make love to her until he was thoroughly convinced Joss was really alive and not part of some convoluted dream. His body begged him to rip off the layers of clothing separating them; to spend the next twenty-four hours exploring every inch of her warm, flower-scented skin; to take her softly, slowly, over and over until she promised she would never leave him again.
He lowered his head to do just that; yet anger over the lies and deception of the last two years held his desires in check.
Two years. For two agonizing years Joss had let them all believe she was dead, never once reaching out to him to explain or ask for help. She had claimed it was too dangerous to contact him, that she was afraid to lose him if HR found out; but the truth was painfully obvious - she didn't trust him. His heart hammered clumsily against his chest, and his eyes slammed shut at the sense of betrayal that poured over him.
After everything he had done to prove himself to her, after the closeness they had shared, Joss had turned to the damned FBI to protect her and her family instead of him. A cold ache stole through his body, slowing the rush of blood that surged through his veins. He felt the strained distance between them widen with each passing second; but he was helpless to stop it, even if he knew how or wanted to.
"John?" Her faint whisper skimmed over his lips which were hovering inches above hers. He eased back to watch confusion, then apprehension furrow her brow.
He allowed his gaze to linger on her delicate face a moment longer before his hands fell away to curl into fists at his side. His body protested the loss immediately; but John tamped it down. He didn't trust himself to touch her while he was caught in the middle of the war between joy and anger being waged inside him.
Joss must have sensed the change rippling through him. She retreated several steps then swallowed hard before she spoke. "On second thought, I think it might be best if I stay at my mom's for a few days. I need to see my son, and if I leave now I can still make it before the weather gets worse." She took another step towards the door. "We can talk when I get back."
"No." Despite the conflicting emotions buffeting him, John knew he would not be able to let her out of his sight - not now, probably not for a very long time.
"I don't need a babysitter John." A brief flash of fire sparkled in her eyes, and the sight of her tiny chin jutting out in stubborn defiance threatened to topple his hastily built defenses. "I'll be fine."
There was his feisty detective, the beautiful spitfire of a woman he had accidentally fallen in love with. John schooled his features into a more neutral mask to curb the unexpected smile tilting his lips.
"I'll take you out there tomorrow Carter, after this storm passes." He grabbed her elbow before she could dance out of his reach and pressed on, not giving her the chance to voice the arguments he saw swimming in her dark eyes. "But for now you're staying here with me."
Joss' safety came first just as it always had. His own jumbled feelings would have to be sorted out later, after he figured out who wanted her dead this time.
"Guess I'm still stuck with you huh?" she groused, but John noticed the playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"And you are still trying to do everything on your own." The retort was meant to be lighthearted, yet it came out as an accusation, flat and angry.
Silence reigned between them for the space of several heartbeats as his unintended barb found its mark. The muscles in his gut clenched when he saw her smile wobble and fall; but he did not stop her when she pulled away from his grasp. His heart railed against his inaction, his fingers trembled with the need to yank her back into his arms. Common sense told him to let her go and his mind agreed. Holding her close again would only confuse things more than they already were.
As far as his body was concerned, common sense could go fuck itself.
"If you really want me to stay here," she broke in, clutching her purse strap as though it were a lifeline, "I should probably grab a few things from my place." Joss' gaze flickered to the tarp-covered furniture, the frosted windows, the dimly lit kitchen, the dark landing above, looking at anything but him…
John's gaze followed the same path hers had taken, and agreed. He had no idea if any of his belongings were still there, much less her… wait, 'my place'? Those two words drew him up short. She had a place to stay and things to get?
Irritation pricked his bruised ego as John realized he didn't even know how long Joss had been back in New York. A few hours? Days? Weeks?
That was just one of a few hundred questions he intended to get an answer to before the day was done.
Not about to let her go by herself and disappear again, he nodded in agreement and picked up his coat on the way out the door. Mindful of her injured ankle - which seemed to be improving and was one more thing she needed to explain - John ushered her into the car and pulled out of the underground garage onto a slick street. Ice was already beginning to build up on the sidewalks. The city's sanding trucks were keeping the side streets drivable - for the most part - but traffic was already stacking up.
In hushed tones, Joss directed him through the city until they reached a quaint brownstone in Sunset Park forty-five minutes later. He parked a handful of spaces down from the front door and automatically reached over to stop her when she grabbed for the door handle.
After the last ambush that had taken her away from him - on a street just as safe and peaceful as this one appeared to be - he was not taking any chances. John carefully scanned their surroundings, cataloguing possible hiding places, potential trouble spots, searching for anything that might surprise him.
"I don't suppose you would want to wait in the car?" he asked as he ducked down to get a better view of the building's second floor.
"Why don't you wait in the car?" she returned with her brows lifted in challenge.
He sent her a quick smirk then released her arm, making a mental note to ask Finch to dig up her old ballistic vest and gun. Joss stepped out onto the curb, but he was faster and jumped out to hustle around the car to shield her from any threat on the street as they picked their way up the slippery walk.
They made it to the steps when his senses prickled in alarm. John immediately tucked her behind him and pulled his SIG from its hiding spot at the small of his back as he searched for the threat. Nothing seemed out of place, not the teenager who was paying more attention to his phone than the dog he was walking; not the elderly woman climbing into a waiting cab or the driver assisting her; nothing but…his sharp gaze landed on a black SUV sitting at the curb with mud-caked fenders and what appeared to be bullet holes in the rear panel and back window. The pounding in his ears grew louder as he recognized the vehicle he shot at last night
He muttered a curse under his breath and started formulating a plan to catch the bastard and above all, keep Joss safe. Harold was still tracking down the car's owner, but it could have been stolen for all they knew. The person he chased down at Sarah's might be waiting inside or -
A blistering wave of apprehension raced down his spine as a horrifying thought occurred to him: Joss was the mysterious visitor at the farmhouse last night.
That would explain so much - the car now parked outside her building, the supposed 'threat' to Sarah and Taylor, his odd reaction and the feelings of closeness to her, her sprained ankle, and finding her bracelet.
John rounded on the woman behind him and backed her up until she was trapped between the apartment's dusky brick wall and the unyielding wall of his chest. "That was you," he snapped.
The hard knot of dread burrowing into the pit of his stomach unraveled into barely controlled rage when her chin dipped in confirmation.
Dear God, he could have killed her!
His goal had been to eliminate the threat, not injure it. If his aim had been a little more accurate, the lighting a little better, his timing more precise, at least one of those bullets would have found its target last night.
Against his will, his mind replayed the end of that chase over and over, only this time he did manage to stop the car. John shut his eyes, but even that could not block out the nightmare his imagination was creating. Terrifying visions of prying open the car door to find Joss' lifeless body sprawled inside with his bullet lodged in her chest.
"Damn you!" His voice broke as the full impact of what might have happened struck him again. His hands found her shoulders and clamped down hard to shake her roughly. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was scared…it - it was too soon…" Her tear-filled eyes darted back and forth between his, imploring him to understand, but how could he? That fear had almost cost her life, his too, because he knew without a doubt that he would not have been able to live with himself if he had taken her life, accidentally or not. "John please -"
He raised his hands to ward off any further pleas and took an unsteady step back on the sidewalk. This new revelation had scattered all the emotions he was finally getting together, and he didn't trust himself to face her right now.
John firmed his jaw and motioned for her to lead the way to the front door. Joss hesitated and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something yet decided against it. Without another word she led him to her door and took a step inside after she unlocked it; but again he stopped her and walked through first. He cleared the apartment room by room before holstering his weapon and allowing her inside.
"Take what you need for the next week," he instructed. "We don't want to stay too long."
"I'll only be a minute." Joss nodded, and moved somberly towards her bedroom leaving him alone in the living room.
John glanced out the window to survey the street again, then skirted the coffee table and couch to duck into the kitchen and check the lock on the back door a second time. Satisfied that it was secure, he turned to head for the living room to keep an eye on the front walk and wait for Joss; but a stack of papers sitting on one end of the granite-topped island snagged his attention. Peering over his shoulder like an errant schoolboy afraid of getting caught by the teacher, he stalked over and leafed through the pile - a couple of magazines, a recent copy of the New York Times, a plane ticket…
He picked that up to examine more closely, noting the time stamp and the alias she had been living under all these months. Joss - Anna Martin rather - had landed in New York City a little less than twenty-four hours ago, flying in from Phoenix yesterday just as she had said.
Part of him was relieved to find that she was telling the truth, while another decidedly more bitter part of him couldn't help but wonder how long it would have taken her to come to him if they had not run in to each other earlier.
John set the ticket down and picked up a notepad lying off to the side that was covered in doodles and what appeared to be a Thanksgiving menu on the first page. A genuine smile stretched the corners of his mouth as he read the list - of course Joss would be planning a big family dinner for the upcoming holiday. He had not celebrated many holidays after he left home, and had stopped altogether after he joined the ranks of the CIA. But that had all changed when a persistent NYPD detective cornered him several years ago and refused to let him turn down her invitation to Thanksgiving dinner - or Christmas dinner the following month. Family and tradition were important to her, and he had been honored to be included…plus that woman cooked one hell of a turkey.
Last year was absolutely awful, one of the worst holiday seasons he'd endured since he'd learned of his sister's death through the Company grapevine eight years ago. Everyone had tried to put on a cheerful front for Sarah and Taylor; but the effort failed miserably in the face of the empty place at the dinner table. Most of the food went uneaten and wound up being donated to a soup kitchen in Newburgh.
This Thanksgiving would be vastly different. There was a reason to celebrate, and in spite of his anger and all the questions that still needed to be answered, he was thankful beyond measure to have Joss back.
John flipped to the next page to find out what else she had planned, but the notes there ripped the smile from his face. In her neat, flowing handwriting was a phone number with an out of state area code and the name Ben.
"Who the hell is Ben?"
He scanned the rest of the page and saw a range of dates for the week after next, followed by: 'meet for dinner, West Village.'
Was he someone she had dated while living in Arizona? And why did that name sound so familiar? He flipped through the rest of the notepad - blank of course - rolling the name around in his mind, when it suddenly clicked. Ben must be FBI Supervisory Special Agent Benjamin Falcon.
Now it was all starting to make sense. Agent Falcon - a man she obviously trusted more than him - was likely the agent assigned to her while she was in witness protection. The car parked out front, probably even her apartment, was set up in his name to protect her a little while longer. That was understandable given the circumstances of her homecoming, maybe a professional courtesy of sorts; but 'meet for dinner, West Village' didn't sound very professional to him.
Had the agent and his witness grown too close during those long nights out in the desert? Were they going to take things to the next level now that the danger was over and she was no longer in federal custody?
The sound of paper crinkling didn't register over the thundering pulse in his ears. He wanted to punch something - or someone. Joss was his damn it, they were…well he didn't know what they were now; but before her alleged death they had been well on their way to becoming more than friends. The connection they shared was something special, something that didn't come along every day.
Maybe that didn't mean as much to her as it did to him.
John tossed the crumpled pad of paper onto the counter and strode back to the living room to wait for Joss; but she was already there, standing in front of the bay window with two bags in hand.
"I didn't bring much with me." Sheepishly she lifted the moderate sized suitcase and overnight bag towards him as though he needed proof. "I had planned on going shopping once I settled in."
He nodded, about to offer to take her on their way back to his loft when a faint pulse of red light flickering through the window behind her caught his eye.
Something wasn't right, that was not a light but a -
"Joss get down!"
Instinct took over and John launched himself at her, tackling her hard and rolling her under him to shield her small body with his larger one as the windows exploded and glass fell in a deafening shower all around them.
Ta-da! What do you think? Now I know what you're going to say - "Not another &#! cliffhanger!" - but it had to be done, and I don't enjoy this anymore than y'all do...well maybe just a little :-D But please don't hate me, especially since this is a tad bit later than I had promised. I had a terrible time with the first and last three pages. I wanted to get their reunion just right and keep everybody in character as much as possible, but there was a lot of emotion there to deal with so I might have gone a little overboard here and there. Also I promise Darkhero, Agent Falcon won't be another Adam lol. He's just there to - well you'll find out eventually.
Oh, quick question since I have not watched an episode since "Endgame". Has Fusco gotten a new partner yet? I'm toying around with the idea of giving him one for this story, but I don't know if that would work out the way I want it to or make things too messy. Hopefully you guys can help me decide ;-) feel free to leave that in a review or PM me and let me know. Now I've got to go work on chapter 11 of "The Things We Say", but I'll get started on chapter five soon! As always let me know what you think. I also want to send a huge thank you to all of my fantastic readers for continuing to read my stories, and check in on me, and all of your support, encouragement! - Meli :-)