Late that night, John was awakened by Joss's screams. He leapt off the couch and ran to her. He found her sitting up in bed her eyes wide with terror and he understood instantly what had happened. He had seen it and experienced it many times before. Night terrors brought on by memories of war.

Keeping his voice low and soothing, he kept repeating, "It's OK, I'm here, I'm right here," as he climbed onto the bed. He took her in his arms so that he was sitting up and leaning against the headboard holding her against his chest, holding her tightly and securely. She buried her face in his chest and began to cry. He held her tightly, rocking her gently, talking soothingly to her in his soft voice.

Finally she got control of herself. "I'm sorry I woke you," she murmured against his chest.

John hugged her tightly, "It's OK, I've had my own nights where I woke up screaming. Do you want to talk about it? Who is Mary?"

Joss sagged against him, "Was I screaming for her?"

"Yes."

"I guess I owe you an explanation, since I ruined your night."

"No, you don't. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," John assured her.

Joss decided she did want to tell John about it; if anyone could understand it would be him. "Mary was my best friend in my unit in Iraq. She was from a small town in Georgia, and had the most wonderful southern accent. She was a pretty blonde with big blue eyes. Yeah, we were complete opposites, but we loved each other like sisters. We had each other's backs.

"She was honest and loyal to a fault. You would have liked her a lot.

"One night our base was attacked by insurgents with rocket grenades. Our barracks took a direct hit."

John nodded, he had been in Iraq at the same time, not too far away actually, and he'd heard about how the women's barracks had been targeted. It bothered him to think that his precious Joss had only been a few miles away, under attack, and he had not been there, even if he had not known her at the time. His elite unit could have stopped the attack cold.

"I take it Mary died in the attack?"

"That's the short version, yes. I got a Purple Heart, she got a coffin." She wouldn't look at him.

"What's the longer version?" he asked softly, stroking her back.

For an answer, Joss pulled down the covers so John could see an ugly scar on her upper thigh. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached down and lightly ran his fingers over it. It looked to him that something fairly large, with an irregular shape had pierced her thigh.

"We were asleep in our room when the attack began. Before we could get to our designated shelter, the building collapsed on us. A chunk of wood got stuck in my thigh, pinning me in the wreckage. Mary got it worse, she got a chunk of steel in her chest". Carter paused, tears filling her eyes, her voice choking. "She didn't die right away…she called out to me…asking me to help her. I couldn't move…I couldn't get to her…" Carter buried her face in John's chest and began to sob again.

John pulled Joss into a tight hug and held her while she cried. He knew what it was like to watch a friend die; he'd done it a few times. He knew well that helpless feeling when you realized that your buddy was doomed and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. He'd woken up screaming over it many times himself.

John held her and stroked her hair while she cried for her lost friend. When she had completely cried herself out, he reached over to the box of tissues on the nightstand and handed her several sheets. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, an act John found oddly endearing.

John smiled down at her, "Feel better?"

Joss sighed and laid her head back against his chest, "I don't think I will ever feel better."

"Do you have this dream often?"

"No, not anymore. When I first came back from over there, I had the dream every week, sometimes two or three times. Now I just have it when I'm stressed."

"So being here with me in my place is stressful?" John gently teased.

Joss actually smiled up at him. "I think it's the death threats and getting shot. You make me feel safe."

John was briefly stunned into silence by that revelation.

"Try and get some rest, I'll be right here, for as long as you let me." he reassured her. Joss snuggled down, with her head back on his chest. A few minutes later, her steady breathing told him she was asleep. He followed her a few minutes after that.

Joss woke the next morning, confused. It took her a minute to remember where she was. Then she realized she was sleeping on someone.

"Good morning," said an amused and familiar soft voice. Joss looked up into the amazing blue eyes of John Reese. She could not help but smile at him.

"Thanks, for last night," she said shyly.

"It was my pleasure, Carter," John said, letting go of her reluctantly and sliding off the bed before he did something more than just hold her.

John headed for the kitchen, "Do you like pancakes?"

"Pancakes? Love them!"

"Good, I always fix them for pretty girls who spend the night."

John had his back to her, so he did not see Carter's face fall. She wondered how many times he had fixed those pancakes. Suddenly her appetite vanished.

Looking around for some sort of distraction before she started grilling Reese on his love life, Carter spied Reese's sniper rifle sitting out on the coffee table. "Wow, is that a Barrett M107? I never thought I would see one of these again! May I?"

Reese smiled and nodded and Carter picked the big gun up, lifted it to her shoulder and looked through the sight. She handled the weapon like a pro. Contrasting her enthusiasm for the weapon with Finch's nervousness just having it in the same room made John's smile even wider.

They had so much in common; like him, she had been through the horrors of war and lost friends to it. She was comfortable around the weapons he used in his work. She challenged him constantly, and she didn't take any crap from him. She understood him in ways no other person ever had.

And yet she was still all woman. He let his eyes travel down her luscious curves to her perfectly shaped and surprisingly long legs. He wanted to lock this picture of her in his mind; her standing there in nothing but his white dress shirt, hefting his big gun like the pro she was. This was going to fuel a lot of fantasies later.

John nearly burned the pancakes watching her, but he rescued them in time and they shared compatible breakfast discussing the case. John decided to spend the day hunting Chu Vang since drive-bys fit his M.O.

"What am I supposed to do?" Joss grumbled.

"Stay here, stay INSIDE," John gave her the same BAMF look that had caused several hardened criminals to wet themselves. It didn't work on Joss.

"No, seriously, what AM I supposed to do all day?"

John actually understood what she was saying, the idea of being cooped up all day against his will was a special kind of hell for him. When he was recuperating from the CIA's bullet wound, he'd been ready to chew his leg off in frustration. She was like him, used to being on the streets, doing something worthwhile.

"I get about a thousand channels, including all the movie channels. Order all the movies you want. I can also have Finch bring some books over."

Joss almost bit his head off, but stopped when she realized he was really trying to help. She sighed, "I'll think of something, I guess."