"Fusco? Seriously I'm grateful, but I could do without the " I could have told you so."" Carter is tired, her hair is still damp as are her clothes. She's uncomfortable, pissed off and worried about the man who is currently being treated by a sweet natured veterinarian who didn't bat an eye-lash when they'd practically dumped a bleeding John onto "Waggy Tails'"doorstop.
It's probably a good veterinarian practice – it seems clean and the chairs in the waiting room are comfortable. The sign on the door had said "closed" until it let them in. Several pretty kittens and puppies watch her from posters stuck on the walls reminding her of the importance of worming and microchipping. John probably doesn't have worms, Joss thinks and he doesn't need a microchip for Harold to locate him. Finch is better than any hand held device when it comes to locating what is lost, whether the person wants to be found or not. He probably pays better than most people coming into the surgery to get their pet neutered too.
Glancing at the man sat beside her, Joss takes a look at what he is reading before wriggling on the plastic chair to let the circulation in her legs start flowing again and letting her head fall back against the wall. Her back hurts from the impact of the bullet against her vest and she feels like arguing because being alive is really great and the waning adrenaline in her system is making her shaky. Thank goodness that Fusco had kept up interference with the precinct and let her use his phone to tell Taylor that she was alright.
"You know that Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake broke up like ten years ago right?"
"It's nostalgic." Lionel is defensive as he puts the ancient copy of "The National Enquirer" back on the little table between them. "Remember when you could turn the radio on and people could actually sing? Not just get famous for being auto-tuned on The X-Factor?"
Joss smiles. "My mom raised me on Nina Simone and Led Zepplin. You're preaching to the choir. Britney Spears though, seriously?"
"It wasn't the "Hit Me Baby One More Time," video if that's whay you're thinking," Fusco retorts. "I liked the ballads. "Lucky," and "Everytime." Realising that he's just given her prime blackmail fodder, Lionel gives her the side-eye. "Also Metallica and Iron Maiden."
"Relax." Carter tries not to grin. "You pulled me and Reese out the river and got into a shoot-out to cover us. For that you can listen to Justin Beiber on repeat and I won't say a word."
"Yeah well you can thank glasses guy for the cruise. SWAT team took care of the snipers on the ship, so as usual they'll get all the glory. I get rewarded with sea-sickness and a guy with a boat that smells of fish so that I can rescue your sorry asses."
"And my undying gratitude. Any news on the girls that were imported?"
Fusco shakes his head and looks at the phone in his hand even though he would have heard it ring if he'd been contacted. "The plates of the minivan went out as soon as I had them. They won't get far. Your car's been impounded, I've ordered you a cab; should be here any minute. I'd give you guys a ride but all three of us together seems like pushing our luck if I get pulled over. Here," he gives Carter her wallet back. Opening it, she takes a deep breath of relief when her badge catches the light. "Your gun's in my car, our mutual friend towed away your car and conveniently erased CCTV footage. There's nothing to tie you to any of this."
"Thanks." Joss pockets the wallet. "What about you?"
"I'm cop in the right place, right time, responding to gunfire while birdwatching."
"Birdwatching?"
The scrape of a door opening halts the conversation and the pair watch as the pretty middle aged vet holds the door to the surgery open so that Reese can hobble through. His hair is still damp, his face pale. Wearing someone's old sweatpants that are too big, a green scrub shirt that's too small and leaning on an impressively carved walking stick he looks utterly ridiculous.
Carter bites her lip so as not to giggle with amusement and relief, Lionel has no such restraint.
"Nice look, man."
John gives him a tired glare before making his way towards the seating area and sitting down stiffly.
"Any news on Kent or the girls that were taken?" He asks immediately.
Joss shakes her head. He looks like absolute crap but she's still pretty sure that given a target to go after he'd still try and go after them all guns blazing.
"Kent's in the wind, the LAPD are looking for the girls. We're waiting for further intel."
"Ma'am?" The veterinarian holds out a paper bag with a couple of boxes in it. "You might want to take these since I don't anticipate the patient doing so and he needs them. Dosage is on the boxes – grind them up in his food or coffee if he refuses, and I want to see him in a week to check for infection. Earlier if he has any problems. Book him in under the name "Stubborn"."
Ignoring the thoroughly affronted man beside her, Joss takes the bag and peeks inside at the packets of pills. "Should I buy him a collar?" She can't resist asking.
The woman obviously gets the joke and gives her a wink. "What you get up to in your free time is up to you but keep it gentle for at least a couple of weeks, and don't let him off the leash. No running around," she gives John a stern look. "You were lucky. No bone fragmentation or major vascular damage but it's going to take time and physio for your muscles to get back to full strength. You can keep the walking stick so long as you promise to use it."
"I promise." Joss doesn't need to look at John to know how utterly insincere his voice is when he gives assurance that he'll do so. The smile is genuine though when he thanks her for her care.
"Cabs here," Fusco says glancing out the window. "Since your cell's gone then call me when you get home ok?"
"Yeah." Joss quickly squeezes her partner's forearm. "You're one in a million. I owe you."
"I won't forget this." John's words are quiet as he shuffles along out the door next to Carter, but she sees the hint of a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. Lionel might be a hard-bitten cop, a dogged if not always squeaky-clean guy, but something within him was evolving and that needed to be acknowledged and proper gratitude given.
"You know Taylor's keeping dinner warm, you're welcome to join us," Carter suggests.
"Nah. But thanks anyway." Lionel's brown eyes crinkle and he nods towards the door. "I've got a date with my kid. Leftovers on pizza later and a Simpsons marathon – it's traditional."
"Each to their own," Reese murmurs, following Joss outside.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's not a surprise to Carter that John wants to get cleaned up and changed. It is however somewhat of a shock that he trusts her to share the location of where he actually lives.
He'd given the cab driver directions without asking her. Of course Joss had paid since he didn't have any money, or really anything at all other than borrowed clothing. The building he'd asked them to stop at wasn't overly ostentatious but clearly expensive. They'd gone up in the elevator, her fidgeting because he was swaying slightly and obviously trying to balance on his undamaged leg without her noticing. Taking his arm would be acknowledging his temporary weakness which she knows that he would hate, but watching him struggle is painful to her too. Eventually it stops, the sleek steel doors opening onto a bright and airy corridor. Ignoring all the doors John limps down the carpeted tunnel before stopping at the very end, just before the fire-doors. With a grunt he reaches up towards one of the air vents and fishes out a tiny filament tied just inside it. When he replaces the grate a bronze key is in his palm.
"This way." He brushes past her determined, not looking at her. When he unlocks the door at the other end of the corridor he seems almost shy when he lets her in the apartment.
It's beautiful, is her first thought. It could belong to anyone, is her second. When Reese nods to say without words "Take a look" when her eyes widen at the view from the windows, she pads over and stares out at the city. Framed in glass she feels tiny.
"This place is yours?"It's a bit of a redundant question. Why else would he have brought her there so that he could change his clothes?
"For now." Two words can say a lot more than the speaker intends. Joss sweeps her eyes around the huge bedroom, the state of the art kitchen. She has no doubt that the stairs curving above to the higher floor lead to rooms equally impressive. It's obvious that Finch had a hand in purchasing this. Thinking of her own little space with its photos stuck on the freezer, DVD's and video games trying to spill onto the floor and every inch stamped with memories be they faint coffee stains on the carpet or novelty mugs in the cupboards, Carter wishes that she were home. Wishes that she could take John home. Despite the decent heating this place is cold.
"Finch?" John's found what looks like a burner phone in a cupboard. "Any news?"
Joss waits for him to finish the call and looks at the tiny people scurrying far below. If there was a God is that what he or she would see?
"The girls from "The Juno" have been recovered safely. One of Kent's men was killed but the other looks like he'll testify against him." John sounds a little calmer. Given the news she lets out a breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding to.
"Those girls won't be safe without amnesty." She points out.
"Taken care of," Reese says, rubbing a hand through his hair. "They're already in a safe house and their interests are being well looked after."
"And Kent?"
"Harold doesn't know, but it's only a matter of time before he's caught. He's suddenly gone up to number one on the most wanted list. Whoever brings him in is going to be a hero." Pulling the ill-fitting scrub shirt over his head, he drops it on the floor. "I'm just going to clean up."
"Okay." She watches as he puts the walking stick on the kitchen counter and limps off down the hall for about twenty seconds before any awkwardness or propriety is pushed away. John's holding on to the wall and opening the bathroom door with the other hand before she gets to him.
"This is stupid. Let me help you." Wrapping an arm around his waist Carter eases him down on the wooden bench that is bolted beside the big marble tub when they get inside. The green tiles cast a slightly sickly glow to both of them when she catches their reflection in the big mirror above the basin. For a moment she meets his eyes, mirror images a little confused. Her hand is still on his shoulder, his knee touching hers. Filling up the basin with warm water, Joss wets the washcloth folded on the side.
He doesn't move or speak when she runs the warm water over the sharp planes of his cheekbones, obligingly closing his eyes when needed. He lowers his head when she wipes the cloth over the tense ridges of his shoulders, the hollows beneath his collar bones. The water runs down the taught planes of his chest, but he stays silent although his breath hitches when she cups his cheek.
He could kill her in an instant if he wanted to, she thinks. But then he'd most likely kill himself before he'd harm her.
Brushing dirt from old scars Joss bites her lip so as not to embarrass them both by crying. She's seen him fight like a demon, ignore injuries that would leave most people screaming. Tenderness is his undoing. He doesn't seem to know how to cope with it. Leaning into her touch like a tame tiger.
It's halfway when she's wiping down his left arm and taking his hand in hers that Joss realises that she's humming nonsense words. Kissing the top of his head, she breathes in the smell of him and lets him wrap his arms around her waist.
She doesn't dare take the sweatpants off. He's aroused and quite frankly she'd let him have her any way that he wanted at the moment.
Bad idea. He'd blame himself for forcing himself on her or taking advantage of her compassion. If she was going to have him then it couldn't be excused as a pity fuck. When she had him, and now it was a case of "when" rather than "if" they'd meet each other as equals.
"I'm going to get you something to wear." her voice doesn't quite sound like her own. Untangling herself she pads into the hall and into the main room. It takes a few minutes to find a closet with jeans, a few polo necks and longer still to find the under-wear drawer. Black socks and briefs – simple and easy compared to her jumble of mutli-coloured lace, cotton and satin. Shoving them around the door to the bathroom, Joss heads back to the kitchen. She finds a glass in the cupboard and slakes her thirst, but it's what's on the sideboard that catches her attention.
A pumpkin pie. Slightly burnt on one side, obviously home-made. Very obviously for her and Taylor.
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