Snow Day - Chapter 1

by jakela

This tale takes place before the end of S1

Snow Day – Chapter 1

A/N: This tale takes place towards the end of S1, before the episode No Good Deed

"Carter! Get in here!"

Taking a deep breath, Detective Jocelyn Carter rose from her desk, passing her fellow detectives who all kept their heads down, seemingly totally focused on their work, as she made her way to their Captain's office.

Joss knew that the man had never wanted her on the elite Homicide Task Force – he'd delayed the transfer until the union threatened to get involved, and then once she finally arrived, he'd dumped on her all of the Task Force's unsolved cases, so that it looked as though she was lazy and incompetent.

But Joss didn't look at those cases as an irritant or an insult to her capabilities. She knew that the victims, and their loved ones, deserved justice, so Joss put her head down and bit by bit, closed every single one of them.

This morning her Captain was supposed to be lauded at 1Police Plaza by the Commissioner for his leadership, especially in closing all of those unsolved cases.

The detectives expected him to take the rest of the day off, or at least return with a rare smile on his face, but instead he was furious.

And Joss knew that all of that fury was going to be directed at her.

"Yes, Captain?" Joss said quietly as she stood in the doorway of his office.

He glared at her while wrenching open the collar on his uniform, which was at least two sizes too small for his hulking frame. "I'll let you do the honors. Somehow," he flushed a deep, angry red, as he tossed two commendations on his desk, "the Commish got a file this morning documenting that you actually solved all of those cases."

Flinging a marker at her, he flushed an even deeper red as Joss nimbly caught it, instead of missing it and letting it clatter to the floor, like he clearly thought she would.

Stepping into the room, Joss turned towards a wall in his office, which had a chart listing every detective in his command with statistics on all of their cases.

Rising up on her toes, she carefully changed the number of unsolved cases from 1 to 0.

Joss then turned back around and carefully put the marker on his desk, gazing at him calmly.

With an evil gleam in his eyes, he shoved a huge stack of old, dusty, cracked folders across his desk at her. "Since you don't have anything to do," he sneered, "you can take these to the Archives. They need to be reviewed, categorized, updated in their database, and then cross-referenced into the new multi-department portal."

"But that's for –" Joss started to protest, but then she quickly closed her mouth as his sneer turned into a grin at her reaction.

Being sent to the Archives was reserved for rookies who were about to be cut, screwups who nobody wanted to be around and burnouts marking time until retirement.

Her partner Lionel Fusco had spent six weeks there after botching a sting several years ago, and Joss knew from his even more rumpled appearance on some mornings, that he still had nightmares about the experience.

"You think this is beneath you, Carter?"

"No, sir."

"Think you're better than everybody else with your fancy law degree?"

"No, sir."

"Good, because we wouldn't want the only…" he paused, and Joss knew that he was reminding her of the sexist and bigoted names she'd been called, sometimes to her face, "…female…here, to think we're not 'inclusive'."

Joss wanted to fly across the desk and strangle the man with his wrinkled, coffee splattered tie, but after her run in with Internal Affairs several weeks ago, she knew she had to stay calm, that there were eyes still watching her in the precinct.

"Yes, Captain."

She bent down and picked up the folders that had fallen to the floor, adding them to the towering stack, then hefted the pile in her arms. "Anything else, sir?"

He waved her away.

Joss turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

"Why are you here, Carter? You could go anywhere you wanted."

Their eyes locked, and Joss finally saw behind the anger and the bluster, the fear in his eyes.

Fear that she was gunning for his job.

And fear that she would get it, not because of the old boys club, or because she was next in the queue, or any of the other reasons he'd risen through the ranks that had absolutely nothing to do with actual police work.

Fear that she would truly deserve it.

"I'm here," she said softly, "for the victims, Captain. And I can't do that," for a moment, Joss let the anger at this petty, pathetic excuse for a man, show in her eyes, "behind a desk. You don't have to worry about that." Now she paused, reminding him of all the names he'd been called behind his back. "Sir."

For a moment, he looked away, clearly embarrassed, but then he ground out. "Don't come back until that stack is done."

"Yes, Captain."

She heard his door slam shut as she returned to her desk.

While the other detectives still kept their heads down, Fusco gave her a sympathetic gaze as she shut down her computer, and dumped the files into a huge tote bag. "Drinks later, partner?" he asked softly.

"Nah, I'll need a haz-mat team to clean me up afta spending all day in that toxic waste dump," she grimaced, thinking about the moldy, insect and vermin infested building that should have been torn down decades ago.

Despite her initial misgivings, and the rumors that still floated around about the burly Detective – including how he'd somehow managed to leapfrog over a dozen other individuals to get on the Task Force, and how their Captain, who Joss occasionally caught looking at Fusco with a mix of rage and fear, treated him with kid gloves - Joss was slowly getting to respect, and to her surprise, like Fusco.

"Thanks anyway," Joss added softly, as she tapped a slender finger on the police bobble head that decorated his desk on her way out.

XXX

John Reese silently rappelled into the gloom of the NYPD Archives through a formerly rusted over trap door on the roof of the ancient building.

He'd had a busy morning, first taking care of a relatively routine Number before the sun rose, then slipping into the Police Commissioner's office and putting a file on the man's desk, that had resulted in commendations for Detective Jocelyn Carter and her Captain.

While his employer Harold Finch had done a good job of erasing any digital traces of Reese's past visits – both legal and illegal – to the city, Reese knew that there was other evidence of the times he'd spent here that needed to be destroyed, now that he had decided to stay.

Over the past several months, Reese had broken into a number of other buildings in the city, including a recruiting office, the city planning department, the Port Authority, a tailor's shop in the Garment District, some former Agency safehouses and a dive bar on the Lower East Side.

Files, photos, old disc drives and other paraphernalia were swapped out with altered items that looked the same, but in all of them, Reese, and his previous personas, had disappeared.

He'd saved the Archives for last, not only because the massive jumble of evidence boxes presented a challenge in finding what he needed.

While the CIA was forbidden to operate on US soil, Reese and his former partner Kara Stanton had visited the city a number of times during the years that they had worked together.

Sometimes their visits were benign – they'd escorted valuable assets to CIA headquarters in Langley, VA for debriefing, other times they'd broken into foreign embassies and stolen classified documents, among other activities.

Other missions were more sinister, and potentially dangerous, like forcing a high level diplomat to defect after they'd planted items that made it seem as though the staffer was a traitor to their country, even though they were loyal. Other times they whisked away suspected traitors to black sites where they would be interrogated.

Occasionally, they assassinated people.

And while Reese had tried to keep those missions surgically clean and efficient, his mercurial former partner often relished wreaking as much havoc as possible, including hurting any innocent people who happened to be in the wrong place at definitely the wrong time.

"They're all guilty of something, Boy Scout, even you," she'd shrug, leaving Reese to clean up the mess that she had created.

While they had done a good job of concealing their real identities, and their more deadly assignments had been categorized by the police as 'suicides', 'accidental' and 'death by misadventure', Reese knew that even if those cases had been closed, the evidence was still lurking in a box somewhere in the old building.

Cracked glasses, an empty bottle of pills, a blood splattered scarf or a torn off button were proof of some of the terrible things Reese had done while he thought that he was serving his country.

Landing lightly on the uneven floor, Reese let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit surroundings, then he headed towards the shelves that contained evidence for the year 2008.

XXX

Joss sighed as she approached the ancient front doors of the NYPD Archives.

It was one of those rare early summer days in the city – clear skies, little to no humidity and a gentle breeze that enticed you to kick off your shoes, roll down your socks and let the cool air waft over your bare toes, if only for a little while.

Which made being sent to this drafty, dirty, leaky hellhole even worse, a place where the rats were as big as terriers, everything was covered with an inch high layer of dust, and while paper fleas were said to be a myth, your skin started itching the second you pulled open the creaky old entrance doors that shrieked your arrival.

Joss raised an eyebrow as she entered the ancient building. While the courtyard was still littered with trash, overgrown weeds and shrubs that had died decades ago, the interior, while still gloomy and smelling of mold, was now swept clean, cobwebs that had been draped like Spanish moss across the flickering light fixtures had been removed, and it was clear that someone was restoring order to the tall shelves that were crammed with evidence boxes from old cases. There also, thankfully, wasn't the skittering of creatures that Joss had heard when she last visited the place.

As she entered the dark entryway, two faces peered at her from behind the front desk. A small tan terrier and an even smaller gray cat gazed warily at her. Both looked like they'd had hard lives – the cat had a split ear and its tail was bent in an unnatural fashion, while the terrier had a deep scar across its chest and was missing several toes on its right front paw.

"I see you've both been workin' hard here. The last time I was in this place," Joss shuddered at the memory, "there were more rats than evidence boxes." Squatting down, Joss reached out her hand to them. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

Joss saw their expressions change from suspicious to curious and they slowly stepped forward, and in turn, sniffed her hand, then the cat purred, while the dog wagged its tail, as Joss scratched the canine behind its ears, while with her other hand, she ran her fingers down the feline's spine.

"Neva seen them do that before," said a low, gruff voice. Joss looked up at the shrewd, piercing eyes of an older NYPD officer.

Unlike many other cops near retirement, his body still radiated vigor and strength. His uniform was regulation perfect, while his snow-white hair shimmered with meticulously applied gel.

"See you met Miss and Demeanor," his sharp eyes softened for a moment, as he glanced down at first the cat, then the dog. "They're usually standoffish with humans. You're the first person they've ever walked up to."

"They do good work," Joss noted, as she rose to her feet. "The last time I was in here, the rats weren't leaving a sinking ship," she shuddered again at the memory, "they'd commandeered it."

"It's an ongoin' battle," the older man noted, as he helped her heft the huge tote bag she had stuffed with the folders on the reception desk, "place is full of cracks that are just beggin' for all sorts of things to get in, but they're," now he smiled at them, "dedicated."

As though they heard their cue, the two promptly disappeared into the gloomy rows of shelves.

"Dog fighting ring?" Joss asked quietly.

"Yep, almost a year ago now. Szymanski over at OCU" – Joss nodded at the mention of the helmet haired Detective – "needed some extra hands for a raid on the place. They were supposed to get the fighters used to first chasin' after prey, then eventually each other. Somehow, they both survived. Nobody else wanted them when we busted the ring, 'cause they were older, all beat up, and didn't trust anybody, but I figured anyone who could survive that hellhole deserved another chance."

"You gave 'em a purpose," Joss said softly.

"Started that way, but now, they sleep at the foot of my bed, and I fuss over 'em like they were my kids."

The older officer then walked behind the counter and flipped open a ledger. "Let's get you signed in, and see," he tilted his head towards the stack of folders now spilling out of the tote bag, "how much shit they expect you to shovel today."

XXX

Jasmine and baby oil.

For a moment Reese thought he was imagining it.

It was just a light, fleeting scent, but Reese had committed it to memory, from the very first time he'd smelled it in a dingy police precinct months ago.

There was only one person who wore that unique combo, which somehow managed to be light and feminine, and subtly sensual, yet warm and comforting at the same time.

Jocelyn Carter.

Scaling the worn stone walls of the Archives, then making his way across its leaky, sagging roof and descending into its gloomy depths without being detected had taken all of Reese's concentration, so for once, he hadn't been paying attention to her whereabouts or listening to her conversations.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Reese pressed an image of a falafal on his phone's screen.

"It's not my fault!" Fusco whined before Reese even said a word.

"Did I say it was, Lionel?" Reese couldn't help smirking.

"No, but it will be…right?"

"Not if I get the right answer." Reese's voice was low and silky with a practiced menace. "Why is Carter at NYPD Archives?"

He heard the burly detective breathe a sigh of relief. "Cap sent her there with a shitload of folders. She'll probably be there for at least a month, if he has his way."

While Reese knew that he should be relieved as well, part of him was disappointed – a feeling that he immediately batted away - that the petite detective wasn't looking for him.

He also realized that he was the reason she'd been banished here.

Fuck.

Reese had expected her Captain to take the rest of the day off, at his gambling den or with one of his floozies.

Or maybe even on the luxurious boat that the man was somehow able to afford on a public servant's salary.

After all, it was going to be a beautiful day.

But apparently, sharing credit with anyone, and especially with the lone female detective on the Homicide Task Force, was too much for him.

"Is…that…what you wanted to know?" Fusco's voice finally broke the silence.

"For now," Reese murmured. He disconnected the call, then turned at the sound of claws clicking against the cracked concrete floor.

XXX

"Nice day," the older officer commented, as he signed Joss in.

"It was," Joss grimaced, "'til I had to come here," as she relayed what needed to be done.

He grunted as he took a quick look at some of the files. "This is busywork on a bunch of old cases nobody gives a crap about. I'm surprised they're havin' you doin' this instead of some wet behind the ears rookie." Raising his head, he gave her a shrewd glance. "Who'd you piss off?"

Joss shrugged, then gave him her own shrewd glance. "Everybody."

He laughed out loud. "Sounds like you're my kind of cop."

XXX

Reaching into his other pocket, Reese squatted down and handed out treats to Miss and Demeanor.

He'd slowly made friends with the animals a while ago, watching as their emaciated frames had filled out and how their matted, patchy fur was now thick and glossy.

As though they had sensed that he was trying to build a new life just like they were, the two had never let the old cop who took care of them know about his presence.

Rising to his feet, Reese carefully put back the items he had taken out of the evidence box.

With a wink and another treat to his two co-conspirators, he made several adjustments to his work.

He needed some time to set his new plan in motion.

XXX

His laughter stripped the years away, and Joss suddenly recognized the older officer. He was Rocco Pietro, known as 'The Roc', the man who had singlehandedly almost brought NYPD to its knees before Joss joined the force.

Once a member of an elite unit that had been designated special privileges – and little oversight – to clean up the city years ago, what had begun as a way to bypass bureaucracy and focus on catching perps, had turned into, for a number of members of the squad, and several high ranking NYPD officers, a vehicle for corruption, violence and even more crime, this time committed by the very officers who were supposed to be stopping it.

Pietro, who at first thought he was doing the wrong things for the right reasons, realized that in order to really stop crime he had to speak out against the corrupt officers. Facing immense danger, he persevered, and the department slowly got cleaned up. While there were those who ostracized him to this day, most of the force realized, even it they didn't admit it, that Pietro had done what many of them wouldn't have.

"Talk about pissin' folks off –you pissed off the brass, the Mayor and half the City Council when you exposed a whole bunch of corruption back in the day."

Joss remembered how when attempting to kill Pietro didn't work, they tried to force him out by busting him down to flatfoot, giving him the worst beats to patrol and not backing him up if he was in trouble. Despite everything they tried, Pietro refused to quit, and as the news of how widespread the corruption was in the department spread throughout the city, they were too busy trying to cover their own asses than trying to get rid of him.

Lowering her voice, Joss leaned forward. "Why are you still here? You must have maxed out your retirement years ago."

Pietro nodded. "When they couldn't kill me, or push me out, they tried to get me to retire early – offered me four times the benefit package."

Joss raised an eyebrow. "But…"

Now he leaned forward. "They finally gave up and sent me here, around three years ago, and that's where," he gave her a roguish smirk, "I wanted to be."

Now Joss raised both eyebrows. "Here?"

Pietro chuckled at the look on her face. "There's still a few bad apples from that time that need to be thrown out of the barrel. I know the dirt's here somewhere, in this building. I just need to find it."

"And you'll stay on 'til you do."

"Yeah. I will," he nodded firmly, "until they carry me out on a stretcher."

Joss gave him a firm nod back. "You will."

He smiled at her. "There's a 'conference room' down the hall –" a cramped space where several lopsided desks and cast off computers had been crammed in – "where you can get set up."

Pulling out an old, rusty cart, Pietro tossed the tote bag of files on top. "You're the only one here today, so you can spread out."

XXX

His work done, Miss and Demeanor watched as Reese climbed to the roof of the building and disappeared.

Standing on top of the roof for a moment, Reese took in the warm sun, gentle breeze and the clear, deep blue sky above him.

It really was going to be a beautiful day.

With a smile, he descended to the ground and made a call, setting the next phase of his plan in motion

XXX

"Thanks." As Joss turned to head down the hall, Pietro's gruff voice stopped her.

"I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of, back when I was one of the 'Princes of the City', things that I'm not sure that I'll ever make up for."

Joss turned and gazed at him fully. "But you're tryin', every day. That's important. Not just to the people you hurt, but," her eyes had a faraway look for a moment, "to you."

He gave her another shrewd glance. "You know someone like that?"

"Yeah," Joss nodded, "I do."

"And is he…" Pietro paused, "makin' up for the shit he pulled?"

"Yeah…" Joss' eyes had that faraway look again, as she thought about a certain tall, darkhaired man in a suit. "He is. Even though," she smirked, "sometimes I wanna shoot him."

"You sound like my wife, Basilia. She says the only day she doesn't want to shoot me is the one that doesn't end in 'y'," he grinned.

"I know the feeling," Joss grinned back.

"They call me 'The Roc', but she's my rock. She knew that I could be a good man, even if I didn't believe it. Some days," he added softly, "I think she's right."

"I think she's right, too," Joss said just as softly, then she turned and pushed the cart towards the conference room.

XXX

Concentrating on her work, Joss lost track of time, so she was startled by the sharp barks from the dog and the yowls from the cat, seconds before the fire alarms went off.

"Drill?" Joss asked the older cop as she quickly stepped out into the hallway.

"Nope, and judgin' by their reaction," Pietro glanced down at the agitated animals, "we'd better get movin'."

Striding down the hall, Pietro scooped the animals into his arms as he and Joss hurried outside, blinking as they stepped into the now mid-morning sun. Engines from a nearby fire station were already pulling into the courtyard, as Pietro safely set Miss and Demeanor on a crumbling courtyard wall, telling them to stay there.

A burly fire captain leapt out of one of the engines, and approached the two officers. "Everyone's out?"

"Yep, all present and accounted for." Pietro noted.

With a nod, the firefighters headed inside, while the humans, the canine and the feline anxiously waited.

After a short period, the fire captain emerged from the building. "Looks like a case of spontaneous combustion – a bunch of stuff from 2008. You get 'em sometimes with these old boxes full of who knows what."

Pietro grunted. "I was just gettin' to that section."

"Good thing you didn't – it could have gone off in your face. We'll sweep the building top to bottom just to be sure." With a nod to both Pietro and Joss, the man stepped back inside to join his crew.

Pietro turned to Joss. "No need for you to hang around waitin' for them to get done. There's a nice little park next door. I'll text you if anything changes," he tapped his phone.

In addition to registering Joss in the ledger, the older officer had also put her phone number in his phone, in case she needed his assistance while he was in another part of the cavernous old building.

He smiled at Miss and Demeanor, who had now settled down and were sunning themselves on the old wall. "Go on," he jerked his head in the park's direction. "You can at least enjoy a little bit of this nice day."

Joss hesitated, but then she knew it would probably only be a short while before she was ordered back to the precinct and given some other crap job to do.

She slowly nodded, and headed towards the park.

XXX

As she stepped into the leafy, green space, Joss began to relax.

A small plaque noted that the park was being rehabilitated by a neighboring garden club. The cobblestone path had been repaired, new plantings were flourishing, and the older existing ones had been pruned and given new life.

A gentle breeze blew across her skin, as Joss raised her face to the dappled sunshine. She loosened her oh-so sensible ponytail, letting her thick, dark hair fall to her shoulders, then tied her jacket around her waist, rolled up her sleeves and opened a button on her shirt.

As the curving path led her to a small sitting area, Joss couldn't believe her eyes.

John Reese, sprawled on a park bench, arms and legs spread wide, head tilted back, with his eyes closed.

His black jacket and pristine white shirt were neatly draped over one of the arms of the park bench.

For a moment, Joss let herself drink in how utterly gorgeous he was. His plain white t-shirt emphasized his broad shoulders and strong biceps, while the thin material clung to his firm pectorals.

Joss' eyes drifted down his flat abdomen, then over his sleek, muscular thighs, while she tried, but failed, to ignore the oh so tempting bulge between those long legs.

'Stop it,' she told herself, 'the man's an outlaw, a vigilante, a criminal.'

'Yeah, there are a whole bunch of 'crimes' you'd like to commit with him', the little voice inside her shot back. 'You'd use your whole bag of tricks on that body, and then some.'

"Shut up," Joss muttered to herself.

She'd made up her mind to turn around and leave when a soft voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Hello, Detective."

His eyes were closed, but the smirk on his handsome face let Joss know that while he seemed to be totally at rest, the man had probably been watching her – and watching how she was watching him – the whole time.

"Are you allowed to be out during the day, John?" Joss said teasingly, to hide her reaction to him, "I thought sunlight," her lips quirked, as she thought about their usual encounters, which normally happened at night or in dark, shadowy alleyways, "would turn you into a pile of ash."

Joss slowly made her way over to the park bench.

Keeping his eyes closed, his grin widened as he slid over to make room for her.

"That's only if I were a vampire, Detective. Everyone knows that I'm," with a wolfish smile, Reese opened his startingly blue eyes, while his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "a werewolf."

"You do fit the lone wolf profile."

He shook his head. "Wolves are social creatures, Carter. Maybe I just haven't found the right she-wolf for me. They mate for life, you know."

"Yeah, I heard that."

They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Joss' sharp eyes took in some tiny flakes of what appeared to be rusted metal on his black jacket. She gave him that look. "You wouldn't have anything to do with the 'festivities'," Joss jerked her chin towards the flashing lights of the fire engines, "goin' on over there, would you?"

He shrugged. "There…might…have been a few…items…from a CIA operation in the city that…might…have gone up in…smoke, Detective."

"I thought the CIA was forbidden from operatin' on US soil, John."

Reese stared at her.

Joss sighed. "I forgot who I was talking to." She leaned back against the bench. "So…other than settin' stuff on fire, any other reason you're hangin' around, John?" She gave him that look again. "Looking for a few more laws to break?"

He shrugged again. "Maybe I just decided to take a little time off, Detective. You know, like a…snow day."

"Snow?" Joss laughed out loud. "This is gonna be one of the best days of the year, John."

"All the more reason to enjoy it." Reaching down under the bench, he pulled out a small, sleek jet-black cooler. Inside was a thermos, cups, a container of cream, stirrers and napkins.

"I figured you could use a cup, since you would have had, what, ten cups by now, Detective," he teased her.

"Four…or…five," Joss hedged, not wanting to admit how close he was to the exact number, "but who's counting."

Reese prepared her coffee, his long fingers just grazing hers, as he handed her a cup.

His eyes lingered on her mouth as she tentatively took a sip.

"Mmmm," Joss sighed. "This is from Lyric's."

Reese nodded. "Their secret blend."

"Folks have been tryin' to figure out for decades what's in it." She took another sip, sighed again, then gave him a sharp look. "And how did you know how I like it?"

Reese now took a sip from his own cup. "Had to learn everything about the woman chasing me."

She raised an elegantly arched eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Everything, Joss," he said softly.

Their eyes met and held again for another long moment, then Joss abruptly turned her face away, focusing on her coffee. "So…tell me what things John Reese does during a…" she slowly turned her face to look at him again, "snow day, besides deliverin' coffee and havin' a porto-potty –" while they had been talking, a luxurious portable toilet had been delivered, discretely tucked into a shady bower of trees – "that's probably nicer than my own home."

Reese looked up at the cloudless sky, thinking. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken time off, for no other reason than because he simply could.

"I…don't know," he finally confessed. "This is my first one…in a long time."

"And you decided to spend it here?"

"I decided to spend it with…a friend." His voice was even softer.

Joss didn't reply, but she smiled as she lowered her head to drink her coffee.

XXX

"It's my fault that you got sent here, Carter."

They had spent the last couple of hours – Reese had rigged three other boxes in far flung sections of the Archives that would have also appeared to be imminently combustible, extending the time that the fire department spent canvassing the building, per a text from Pietro to Joss, telling her that the building wasn't cleared yet - drinking their coffees and talking about everything and anything – sports, movies, travel, the latest scandal at City Hall, you name it.

He saw her big brown eyes open even wider, then watched as a dozen different emotions flew across her gorgeous face, then to his surprise she burst out laughing.

"Did you –" Joss clapped her hand over her mouth as another burst of laughter threatened to send a flock of birds squawking in a nearby tree skyward, "see my Cap when he found out? He was as red as a beet when he stormed into his office. He must have been –" she giggled, "red as," she giggled again, "Rudolf's nose when the Commish whipped out that other commendation."

"No," Reese shook his head, as he let a soft smile steal across his lips. "I didn't want to hang around too long. I did hear the commotion in the Commissioner's office, and," his smile widened, "a few choice words, then the door burst wide open and his staff went crazy pulling together your commendation before your Captain arrived."

"I would have paid to," her lips quirked, "hear that. His tirades are legendary." Her smile faded and she tilted her head at him. "Thank you," she said softly, "for tellin' me. I know that wasn't easy."

"I am…" Reese grimaced, "wrong…occasionally, Carter."

"But even when you're wrong –" Joss said with an impish grin, "you realized you were wrong about that, so you were still right!"

Now Reese grinned at her. "Well, you are a good Detective."

This time she laughed out loud and the birds scattered towards the skies.

XXX

"John Rooney?"

Joss' eyebrows almost reached her hairline as a young man rushed into the park with a huge, insulated container strapped to his back. With a flourish, he then unloaded a feast from her favorite clam shack which had just opened for the season a week ago.

Lobster rolls, steamers, clam fritters, French fries, onion rings, cole slaw, and strawberry shortcake, all to be washed down with their signature icy-cold lemonade.

"How –" she watched the young man scurry off after assuring them that he'd be back later on to clean everything up, "they're on Long Island!"

"Food truck show at the Javitts Center." Reese handed her a flyer that was nestled in with the napkins.

Joss raised an elegantly arched eyebrow as she quickly read through it. "And they just bring you food?"

"I might have…helped…the event organizer some time back."

Joss' brow crinkled as she thought for a moment. "He…and his uncle…they're employin' a lot of homeless folks, includin' a bunch of veterans. You helped him?" (*1)

Reese shrugged. "A little."

Joss gave him a long look. "Why do I think you helped him a lot."

Reese shrugged again. "Food's getting cold, Detective. Dig in."

Realizing the last time she'd eaten was well before sunrise, Joss dug in, Reese joined her, and neither one of them said anything for a long while.

XXX

"Go ahead, Detective."

Joss had emerged from the luxurious portable toilet with her pants legs rolled up and another button open on her shirt, while Reese tried – and failed – not to sneak looks at a hint of her delicious cleavage.

Joss paused, then she kicked off her shoes and slowly toed off her socks, sighing as the breeze blew across her bare toes.

Leaning forward, Reese ran a long finger down her foot. "Pretty feet, Carter." He slowly ran his finger back up her foot. "Very pretty feet." He raised an eyebrow as he leaned down even further. There was a word, with one letter on each toe, lightly painted on her toenails.

C-O-U-R-A-G-E-O-U-S

"I give myself a pedicure every week, and I," Joss felt her face grow warm, "like to paint in a word for the week."

"Like, uh…" Reese thought for a moment, "D-E-D-I-C-A-T-I-O-N"

"Yeah," Joss smiled and nodded, "like that. Keeps me focused, when I get dressed in the mornin' and when I go to bed at night.

Reese nodded slowly. "Reminding yourself of what's important."

Joss nodded. "Yeah. It's easy to get caught up in 'stuff' and forget why you're doin' something."

"Like…" he said softly, "your purpose."

Her eyes lit up and she beamed at him. "You got it! I don't ever wanna forget why I do what I do, you know?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I know."

XXX

It was mid-afternoon when Pietro texted Joss that the building was finally cleared.

Reese watched as Joss carefully put back on her socks and shoes, buttoned her shirt, donned the jacket that had been neatly draped on top of his, and lastly, pulled the thick dark locks that caressed her face in the way that Reese longed to, into that all-so-sensible ponytail.

"Thanks for…" she let her voice trail off, then Joss gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

"You're welcome," he replied with an equally soft, almost shy smile.

She stood there for a moment longer, as though she wanted to say something else, but then squaring her shoulders, Joss walked away, without looking back.

"Someone," Pietro patted his belly, as Joss entered the Archives courtyard, "sent over a whole mess of grub from the Javitts Center for us," he tilted his head at Miss and Demeanor, who were snoozing happily on the crumbling stone wall, "and the firefighters. Said it was from 'an interested party.'" He gave her that shrewd look again. "Someone you know?"

"Yeah," Joss nodded, as she petted the two animals.

"What is he to you?"

"A…" Joss realized she was saying it for the first time, "friend."

And with that, she turned and headed briskly towards the Archives. Joss paused, as she opened one of the heavy doors. "Comin'? We got work to do."

"Yes, ma'am," With a sly smirk, Pietro picked up Miss and Demeanor and followed her.

XXX

While Reese had pretended to have his eyes closed when Joss had walked into the park this morning, he'd memorized every detail.

The way the light breeze wafted her thick, dark hair across her graceful shoulders.

How the sun shone on her gleaming brown skin.

How for such a petite woman, she had incredibly long legs.

And how every time he saw her, that bone chilling weariness that he carried inside ebbed away, just a little bit more.

There were several women he could have called for a few hours of pleasure.

Easy.

No commitments.

No challenge.

And ultimately empty.

Yes, there were any number of women he could spend time with.

But there was only one woman that he wanted to be with.

And spending time with Joss today was exactly what he needed.

He put on his shirt, slipped on his jacket, adjusted the cuffs.

Reese allowed himself one broad smile, then he put on his other 'uniform' – the stoic mask.

It didn't fit as well as it used to, another sign that he was slowly coming out of The Dark.

As promised, the young man returned, and Reese helped him pack up everything, then gave him a large tip despite his protests that the tip was already paid.

Reaching under the park bench he picked up the knapsack that contained his rappelling equipment and tools, and slipped the thermos back inside the cooler.

Exiting the park, Reese placed the items in the trunk of one of Finch's vehicles which he had parked nearby.

As he closed the trunk, Reese slipped his keys back into his jacket pocket.

He was going to walk.

After all, it was still such a beautiful day.

And with that, Reese headed towards the Library.

XXX

"You look like you spent the day outdoors, Mr. Reese."

"Most of it," Reese nodded, as he took a closer look at his employer. "It looks like you spent some time outside, too."

"I did…take a…brief…sojourn along the river this afternoon."

Reese leaned a little closer. "It was a little longer than that, Finch. You've got…" he smirked, noting the redness on Finch's cheeks and especially his nose, "a sunburn."

"There are some very talented…artists…painting there," the older man replied, keeping his eyes fixed on his screen. "I might have lost…track…of time." (*2)

"I'll get you something to help with that, and…" Reese looked down at the empty waste basket, "a cup of tea?"

"A cup of tea would be nice." Finch adjusted his glasses, then raised his head to finally look at Reese. "Do you think it's…wise…spending…time…with Detective Carter, Mr. Reese?"

"Wise?" Reese smiled. "No." Straightening up, Reese's smile faded as he turned and gazed at the other man. "But I'm going to keep doing it, Finch," he said in a low, soft, but very firm voice, "even if you tell me not to."

The room grew silent as Finch's fingers stilled on the keyboard.

After a long pause, Finch finally nodded, then lowered his face and resumed his typing.

"I'll bring you a muffin, too, Harold," Reese said softly, then he left the Library.

XXX

Some time later Reese placed a small bag from a local pharmacy, a steaming cup of Sencha tea and a muffin onto his employer's desk.

"Thank you, Mr. Reese," Finch nodded, his eyes on his screen.

"I noticed that the cable to one of the communications relays looks loose," Reese noted. "I'll take a look at it before it gets dark."

"I appreciate your proactivity," Finch nodded again. "Please let me know if it will require additional attention."

"Will do," Reese nodded. He turned to leave, but the reclusive billionaire's soft voice stopped him.

"I do…understand, John." Pausing in his typing, Finch raised his head and looked at the other man. His eyes had a wistful yearning in them. "More than you know."

While Reese knew about Finch's longtime friend and business partner, the late Nathan Ingram, and his son, Will, Reese sensed that there was someone else that the older man was referring to, someone that he had to fight against being with every day.

The two men gazed at each other for a long moment, then Reese replied softly. "I know you do, Harold."

They nodded at each other, then Reese turned to leave again, but Finch's voice, now back to its normal volume, stopped him.

"Please let Detective Carter know, the next time you see her, that a package of documentation incriminating several current high ranking members of our police force has been delivered to an…interested party."

Reese raised an eyebrow. "This…interested party…just happens to work at the NYPD Archives?"

Finch nodded. "Officer Pietro was correct in that there was evidence against those individuals, but it wasn't in the department's archives. It was located in," a ghost of a smile graced the older man's lips, "an old, forgotten computer system located in the bowels of One Police Plaza that had never been shut off."

Now a ghost of a smile graced Reese's lips. "I'm sure she'll be glad to know." He turned and strode out of the Library.

XXX

Joss spent the next two weeks meticulously working her way through the mountain of folders that her Captain had foisted on her.

Every morning when she arrived at the Archives, there was a sleek thermos of Lyric's secret blend of coffee waiting for her on the crumbling wall.

Every noon, a sumptuous lunch was delivered for her, Pietro and Miss and Demeanor.

And every afternoon, the humans enjoyed tea and a bakery treat, while the animals had their own pet-specific treats to enjoy as well.

In between their patrols of the old building, Miss would curl up in Joss' lap while she worked, while Demeanor nestled down at her feet.

Joss helped Pietro review the stack of documents that Finch had had delivered to the Archives, then she manned the desk while the old officer headed to 1PP for a brief and rather tense meeting with the Police Commissioner.

While the statute of limitations had run out on their crimes, the department didn't want the bad publicity – and the reminders of the earlier, more deadly offenses that Pietro had exposed years ago to be brought up again – so after Pietro left the building, several older officers were summoned to the Commissioner's office, followed by a flurry of quiet resignations, so that, the identical announcements all stated, they could 'spend more time with their families'.

When Joss finally returned to her desk in the Homicide Task Force, the door to her Captain's office sprang open.

The other detectives kept their heads down, all seemingly focused on their work, as he stepped into the bullpen, with an oily, evil smile on his face.

"'Bout time you finally got back, Car-" his grin vanished as he gaped at her.

Instead of being frazzled, worn out and sleep deprived from her banishment, like everyone else who'd spent time in the Archives, Joss looked well rested, her skin glowed from a daily stroll through the little park, and judging by the gentle swell to her belly, she had been well fed.

Flushing a deep, angry red, her Captain turned around and stormed back into his office, slamming the door.

A few minutes later, he lurched out of his office, and down the stairs.

The detectives waited until his heavy footsteps faded away, then they all raised their heads.

Fusco gave her a thumbs up, Kane grinned at her, and the other detectives all nodded at her, even the perpetually grumpy Olsen.

Joss gave them all a nod back, then she leaned towards her partner. "Whattada we got?"

Fusco sighed as he opened a new case folder. "You won't believe this one, Carter…"

Rising to his feet, he handed her the folder, and the two started to work on their next case.

XXX

A week later:

'I shoulda known,' Joss shook her head as she entered the park.

It was another, rare, perfect early summer day.

There was John Reese again, stretched out on the same bench.

She raised an eyebrow at his attire. Instead of his usual suit, John was dressed in a dark blue t-shirt, charcoal gray cargo pants, and to her surprise, black retro sneakers. He hadn't shaved and his hair was gel free.

"Thought you were done with this old place, Carter." Reese smirked, as he slid over to make room for her on the park bench.

"I was…" Joss nodded, as she sat down beside him. With a nod, she took the cup of coffee that Reese handed to her, "but then…someone…" she gave Reese that look, while he kept his face perfectly bland, "granted NYPD a whole bunch of money to digitize everything."

"Really?" Reese nodded, as he took a sip of his own coffee.

"Yeah," Joss took a sip from her cup, then she sighed gratefully, "some high falutin' tech firm named IFT." (*3)

"Guess there are a few good people in the world, Detective."

"Yeah…" she smiled softly at him, "one or two. So…while they're inside, doin' their thing, thought I'd help 'The Roc' – Officer Pietro, clean up the yard."

"On your day off," Reese noted.

"Taylor's," Joss' face softened at the mention of her son, and she gave Reese a brief nod acknowledging everything he had done to save Taylor that was only a few weeks, but seemed like a lifetime ago, "at an all-day soccer camp, it's a nice day outside, and I figured…" she sipped her coffee again, "he could use the help."

"Need a hand?"

She raised both eyebrows. "What, you run out of laws to break, John?"

"Even 'criminals' take time off, Joss, or maybe," he smiled softly at her, "I just decided to take another snow day. The last one," he added softly, "was nice."

"Yeah…" she smiled softly back, "it was."

They finished their coffees in companiable silence, and then walked over to the front of the old Archives building.

Pietro was already there, dressed in casual, but as always, neat garb, as he unloaded an old pickup truck full of gardening tools and supplies.

"This is…John." Joss introduced the men to each other.

"Just John?" the older man gave her a curious glance.

"It's probably safer that way," her lips quirked.

Pietro gave Reese the long piercing look that had made perps quake in their boots back in the day, but then with a nod, he reached out his hand, and Reese shook it.

Miss and Demeanor, who had been sunning themselves on a section of the crumbling wall, jumped down to the weed strewn courtyard. Like their human, they gave Reese a long look, then they both trotted over to greet him.

The older officer raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I've only seen them do that with one other person." He tilted his head towards Joss.

Reese bent down to scratch Demeanor behind the ears, while Miss purred happily when he ran his long fingers down her spine. "Guess she's starting to rub off on me."

Joss made a snorting sound, then she picked up a rake, "Yeah, right," but her eyes were twinkling. "Let's get to work."

XXX

Several hours later, Pietro nodded in satisfaction at everything that they had accomplished.

All the trash was gone, the cracked flagstones had been thoroughly weeded, the old, dead shrubs had been ripped out, and the surviving ones were pruned, fertilized and mulched. With Miss and Demeanor's help, they managed to clear out several mouse infestations, and the animals had also alerted them to a rather large hornet's nest, which would be removed by professionals.

With a wink, he opened a cooler that was nestled in the back of his truck, stuck his hand in, and tossed an icy cold beer to Reese. "My wife's comin' in a bit," he opened his own beer, "so I won't have to drive home."

The two men leaned against the old wall, and drank their beers in companiable silence.

Pietro nodded towards Joss, who had stepped away to the other end of the courtyard to call her son. "Somehow Carter found a bunch of old paperwork that said that the park's beautification committee is supposed to tend the Archives outdoor area as well. They'll be able to hit the ground runnin' with the new plants tomorrow, thanks to your two's help." Pietro paused as he looked at the ancient building. "With the files being digitized, temperature controlled storage, the building being renovated, and now this," he shrugged, "they don't need an old dog like me anymore."

Reese tilted his head at the older man. "How do feel about that?"

Pietro thought for a long moment. "Neva thought I'd be ready, but I think I finally am. There's still some shit goin' on in NYPD – newer, smarter shit, that will need newer, smarter, good, cops to root those fuckers out. But my time," Pietro nodded firmly, "is done. Got a good woman, good friends," he smiled down at the animals. "Don't need much else."

"No," Reese nodded. "You don't."

"She's one of those newer, smarter, good cops," the older man raised his chin towards Joss, who with her back towards them, had turned her phone horizontally and appeared to now be in a conference call. "And a looker, too. What," he smirked at Reese's surprised expression. "I'm old, but I'm not blind." He gave Reese a shrewd look. "You're not blind either."

"No," Reese felt his ears getting warm, "I'm not."

"A smart, beautiful, good woman…"

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, it always is, but if you're as smart as I think you are, you'll uncomplicate it." Taking a long, final swig, Pietro placed his empty can on the crumbling wall. Then he slowly turned and gave Reese that piercing gaze again.

At the sudden change in the air, Miss and Demeanor raised their heads and gazed at the two men.

"Does she know…" his eyes flickered towards Joss, then turned back towards Reese, "that you tried to kill me," Pietro asked softly.

Reese shook his head as he put his own empty can down. "No. And," now he turned and faced the older man fully, "I didn't try to kill you, Officer. You just happened to be…" he shrugged in a apologetic gesture, "in the wrong place at the wrong time…"

(*1) This references the S1 ep Risk, where Reese went into the world of high finance to help their latest Number, a young broker named Adam Saunders. Saunders' uncle ran a fleet of food trucks, and at the end of the episode we saw those trucks pulling into a homeless establishment, and we met Joan, the homeless woman who helped Reese when he was on the streets. Reese was 'John Rooney' in that ep.

(*2) We know that the reason that Finch got a sunburn was that he was watching Grace painting along the river and lost track of time. In this tale, Reese doesn't know about her yet.

(*3) IFT is the company that Finch and the late Nathan Ingram founded.

A/N: Miss and Demeanor knew instinctively that they could trust Joss from the moment they met her, just like Reese did.

When Pietro talks about 'newer smarter shit' happening within NYPD, we know that he's probably gotten hints about the rise of HR, and that he's predicting, without realizing it, that Joss will be the one to finally take them down.

I stole the term 'Prince of the City' from the non-fiction 1978 book by Robert Daley and the 1981 film directed by Sidney Lumet. They were a group of NYPD detectives that while they were supposed to be fighting crime, became corrupt themselves.

So…Reese and Pietro met sometime in the past. We'll learn about that encounter in Chapter 2, which will be posted on Sunday, January 5th.