Chapter 5: How I met my love
The next day, Finch returned to his townhouse after running a few errands to find John on the treadmill, running like a man possessed. Understanding his friend's need to blow off some steam, he wisely left the Wolf alone until dinner time, when he was able to coax John to the table with his favorite pasta.
John picked listlessly at his food, but Finch couldn't blame him. After all, Finch did understand the frustration of having to leave the love of one's life behind due to circumstances beyond one's control. Finch, very grateful that his friend would only have to suffer for a month instead of a lifetime, resolved to be patient with John.
After the dinner dishes had been cleared from the table and placed in the dishwasher, Finch retired to the living room with a glass of red wine and a good book as was his habit on his rare evenings at home. John, too, tried to read quietly, but soon he was up and prowling restlessly around the house, making soft growling noises deep in his throat. Finch did his best to ignore his new roommate, but John's growing agitation soon became too much to ignore. Finch closed his book. "John, would you like to talk? It does help."
John sighed and threw himself down in an armchair across from Finch. He ran his hand over his face and gave Finch a guilty look. "I'm sorry, Finch. I'm not very good company right now."
Finch gave John a reassuring look. "It's alright, John. I know you miss her."
John leaned forward and placed his forearms on his thighs, letting his hands dangle in between his knees. He looked over at Finch, tears pooling on his lower lids. "It's like a piece of me, the best piece, is missing. We've only been mated for a few months, but I've already grown used to having her presence with me all the time. She centers me;she calms me down. And now she's gone."
Finch nodded. "I too have been there. I didn't have a Wolf bond, but I know what it's like to miss someone so much you feel like you are not yourself and you'll never will be alright again."
The two men fell silent, both lost in their own thoughts for several minutes while they contemplated the women who had come to mean so much to them. Finally John spoke. "Did I ever tell you about how I met Joss?"
Finch shook his head. "I know she was the detective on duty when you were brought into the 8th after the fight on the subway and that she spoke with you briefly before my lawyer arrived. I never heard your version of that night."
John got a faraway look on his face. "She knew me, Finch. She watched the fight on some surveillance video and she knew me. She didn't see a monster;she didn't see a dirty bum. She saw ME." John paused and took a deep breath. "She didn't know my story, but she understood it." John paused as he stared off into space. "She asked me if I needed help."
Finch cocked his head to the side. "When was the last time anyone asked you if you need help?"
John gave him a little shrug. "I honestly don't remember. I'm not the kind of guy who gets that question a lot."
Finch nodded his understanding. "Is that when you fell in love with her?"
John looked thoughtful. "Possibly. She was the first person to show me any compassion in years. She gave me hope."
Finch took a sip of his wine and then swirled the liquid around in the glass as he stared at it while he decided if he wanted to ask his next question. "How did you feel about Pam when you were with her?"
John shrugged. "She's beautiful, strong, smart, everything a She Wolf should be, except…," His voice trailed off as he reached for the right words.
"She lacks Joss's compassion?" Finch helpfully supplied.
John nodded. "Pam has no heart."
They both fell silent for a time after that, lost in their thoughts once again. Then Finch broke the quiet. "John, I am curious about something Pam said. She keeps referring to the fact that you and she are descendants of the Old Bloodlines. What exactly does she mean by that?"
John gave a little snort of contempt. "You have probably noticed that Pam and I share several physical characteristics?"
Finch nodded. "Yes, you are both tall, athletic, and you both have the same blue eyes." He took a another sip from his wine glass. "Why?"
"Those are all characteristics of the Old Bloodlines; the original Wolf families. The legend is that during the Roman invasion of Britain during the time of Christ, several warriors volunteered to be changed into Wolves by Druid priests to better protect their families and village. Those warriors were the very first Wolves, and their descendants are considered to be more powerful than Wolves who are not from those families." John lifted his lip in a small snarl. "It really doesn't mean anything, but some would consider us nobility."
Finch's eyes opened wide. "Like Dukes and Duchesses? I would consider that a very big thing!"
John snorted and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "The idea is similar, but there are no titles and no money. We simply were whelped into the 'right' family." He placed air quotes around the word right.
Finch blinked a couple of times as he processed this new information. "You don't believe yourself to be nobility?"
John shook his head. "I've known a lot of Wolves in my life and those of us from the Old Bloodlines are no better than any other Wolf. Joss, Lionel, Dr. Cho, Lassen. I would trust all them before I would trust Pam."
"I see your point." Finch licked his lips and the decided to ask a question that had been bothering him. "Why did Pam call Joss a mongrel?"
John's face went hard and his eyes were icy. "It's a slur on Wolves who were turned. It's the worst thing a turned Wolf can be called. Imagine the worst name Joss would've been called before she became Wolf."
Finch gasped and looked apologetic. "I'm so sorry John!"
John blew out a calming breath. "No, no, it's OK. You didn't know, but Pam DID. Pam is a believer in the Old Ways, so she considers turned Wolves to be less Wolf than those who were born into the pack and definitely less than a Wolf from the Old Bloodlines."
"So she's a bigot," Finch stated.
John nodded.
"John, if the worst happens, do you think you could mate with her? Can you bond with someone you don't love or trust, even to protect the pack?" Finch could not imagine his friend, with his big, caring heart, tied for life to a bigot such as Pam.
John looked down at his hands and shook his head. "I don't know. Alphas have mated with other Wolves they didn't love before, but I don't know if I could mate with anyone other than Joss." John closed his eyes as he composed himself. "She has to win that challenge."
Finch shifted in his seat. "What if she doesn't and you refuse to mate with Pam?"
John stared into the fire. "Then Pam becomes the Alpha and Joss and I are exiled from Pack life forever."
A few days later, after Joss was finally cleared for normal activity by Dr. Cho, she was awakened at an ungodly hour by the curtains of her bedroom being thrown open, allowing the sunlight to stream in.
"Rise and shine Jossie!" Shaw chirped in a fake sing-song voice.
Joss slid down under her covers, pulling them up over her head. She was had not slept well since Pack night; she missed John too much. Instead of sleeping she had spent the nights staring at the ceiling fan overhead as it went around and around. She was really in no mood for Shaw and her games. "Go away Shaw, I'm armed!"
Shaw was, of course, not deterred. "So am I, but I'm not the one who has a duel to the death in a month," she said as she peeled back the covers on the bed leaving Joss exposed.
"What does that have to do with you breaking into my house and waking me up at the butt crack of dawn?" Joss snapped irritably as she sat up and glared at her friend.
Shaw crossed her arms and glared right back. "Today is the first day of your training. Pam is in it to win it, and she WILL kill you. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen."
Joss sighed and flopped back on her pillows. "Do you really think you can train me to stand up to her in month? She's had years of training and experience."
"Actually, yes," Shaw said. "Pam is overconfident and has let herself go since she got the boot from the CIA. Did you see the cellulite jiggle on her thighs in that dress she wore to Pack Night? "
Joss laughed while Shaw smirked at her.
Shaw sat down on the bed. "Kidding aside, Pam is out of shape, and you aren't. You already know the basics of hand-to-hand. I've had the same training she has; I can show you how she is going to come at you and how to counter."
Joss looked thoughtful. "You really think she's out of shape?"
Shaw nodded. "It's common with agents to relax when we leave the service. I avoided it because John and Harold dragged me into their little operation right after I got burned, but Pam didn't have that. She's still deadly, but she is not in prime condition." Shaw hopped up off the bed. "So let's get moving!"
"Can we at least have some coffee first?" Joss asked hopefully.
Shaw grinned at her. "I'm not a barbarian!"
"What do you know about Krav Maga?" Shaw asked as she faced Joss across a practice mat in the basement gym of one of Finch's safe houses.
Joss dutifully recited what she knew of the martial art. "It's Hebrew for 'Contact Combat.' The Israelis developed it. It's hybrid of several other fighting disciplines like boxing, judo and aikido. It empathizes neutralizing your opponent as quickly and as efficiently as possible. It's a very aggressive fighting style."
Shaw nodded. "It also teaches you to go for the vulnerable parts of the body like the eyes, the throat, and the stomach. In other words, fight to win."
Joss smiled. "I've seen John fight." She tried to not get distracted by the thought of John's graceful but deadly movements as he took down several bad guys at once. Her heart ached at being forcibly separated from him.
"He's one of the best," Shaw grunted. "Pam spent a long time in the CIA, longer than John or me, so we have to assume she's good as well. Challenges like the one she issued to you usually involve knives, so we'll focus on those techniques. I'll show you how to use your knife effectively and how to disarm an opponent."
Shaw picked up a couple of small knives with rubber blades used for practice and tossed one over to Joss. "Let's dance," she said grimly.
Several hours later...
"Again!" Shaw shouted as she swung for Joss's head for what seemed like the millionth time that day.
Joss, exhausted and dripping with sweat, blocked the blow at the same time she blocked Shaw's other hand as it slashed towards her stomach holding the rubber practice knife. Joss now held both of Shaw's wrists on in her hands; swiftly she brought her knee up and made contact with the smaller operative's stomach. Not too hard, Joss didn't want to hurt her friend too much, but enough so Shaw felt it. Shaw hadn't been pulling very many punches during their sparring match, and Joss felt justified in getting her own licks in.
"OK, good." Shaw stepped back and flopped down on the mat. Joss, grateful for the reprieve, sank down next her. They lay there quietly for a some time, panting like dogs in the summer heat from their long day of training.
"Not bad," Shaw said. "You blocked me just about every time during that last round."
Joss touched her stomach, where a lovely bruise was forming over her solar plexus where the rubber knife had connected far too many times that day. "Not quite every time."
Shaw sat up. "You won't fall for that gambit again."
"No," Joss sighed. It had been a painful lesson, but a valuable one. Had Pam tried that move on Joss before Shaw's training she would have ripped Joss's stomach open. Joss tried not to think about that; the fact the Pam was out to kill her, not just take her place as Alpha, was becoming all too real.
"I need some red meat," Shaw grumbled.
"I need some chocolate," Joss said as she got to her feet.
After Shaw had left for the night Joss took a hot bath and then crawled into bed. She hoped she was tired enough to sleep, but that was not to be. After a couple of hours of lying there, staring at the ceiling fan overhead as it went around and around, she rolled over on her side and reached out to lay her hand on the spot where John would normally sleep.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was actually quite used to sleeping without John; neither one of them had a 9 to 5 job and late night stakeouts were a staple of their existence, but the last couple of nights had been different. Since she had mated with John, she had never been completely alone. Through their bond he had always been with her, and she had grown to cherish that connection. She had spent a good deal of her life solo since her uncompromising moral compass tended to demand that she go against the crowd. However, to her amazement, the thing that drove so many people away from her drew John in like a moth to a flame. He treasured her integrity, her principles, and he shared her drive to protect those who could not protect themselves. Losing her bond to him had hit her hard because it meant she was alone once again. After having tasted what it was like to have someone who consistently had her back, going back to being alone was a crushing blow.
Her chest tightened as she thought of her absent mate. She had no words for how much she missed him. He wasn't perfect by any means, but he was a good man and she loved him.
She moved over into his side of the bed and buried her face in his pillow inhaling his scent. It comforted her somewhat to smell the familiar woodsy-mixed-with-gunpowder scent, and she was finally able to fall into a deep and restful sleep.